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svt-luna · 2 days

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hi! i really adore each member’s dynamic with luna 🫶 can i request for a chapter where the group’s over protectiveness comes to action when it comes to luna? it can be any member you prefer. thank you!

(pls keep on writing i really love ur blog 🤗)

ᡴꪫ ⋆ All EYES ON HER: SEVENTEEN’S ULTIMATE PROTECTIVE MOMENTS ࣪ ! ˓ ౨ৎ ࣪˖ ─── now playing…

synopsis: A compilation on the countless times the members have fiercely protected Luna, proving that anyone who messes with her has an entire team to answer to.

hello!! I apologize for taking so long with this request, it took a long time for me to get to it but finally, it’s here now. you didn’t specify what kind I should do, so I decided on a youtube compilation instead, I hope you don’t mind! happy reading, my loves 🤍💛

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ youtube compilations

[added captions are in brackets] ᡣ𐭩

bold dialogues are spoken in english ᡣ𐭩

indented italics are additional voice overs ᡣ𐭩

Ah yes, folks, welcome to this episode of ‘How SEVENTEEN is Basically Luna’s Private Army at This Point.’

I mean, if you didn’t already know, our girl Luna isn’t just the 14th member of SEVENTEEN— no, no, she’s also the epitome of princess treatment.

Miss thing, is protected by her 13 bodyguards… I mean, bandmates.

I cannot stress this enough… the amount of times these guys circle around her like she’s made of glass is honestly a whole genre of content at this point.

You’d think they signed a secret contract that says, ‘Thou shalt not let Luna so much as trip on a pebble or breathe near a stalker without at least five of us nose-diving in front of her.’

I’m starting to think they all have a group chat where their one goal is: ‘Keep Luna safe. At all costs.’ I mean, the devotion is real, people.

Anyway, buckle up because we’re diving into SEVENTEEN’s ultimate protective moments over the years. From stage accidents to creepy fan encounters— these boys do it all. *swoons*

So grab your popcorn, maybe a tissue, and get ready to witness Luna being treated like the literal K-pop princess that she is.

LUNA’S AIRPORT SASAENG INCIDENT

I feel like this video itself just shows you how much the members are super protective of Luna.

On a side note, y’all weirdos really need to leave them the fuck alone

The airport was abuzz with the usual energy that seemed to follow SEVENTEEN everywhere they went. Fans had gathered on the other side of the barricades, screaming, phones flashing, as they tried to capture every moment of the members’ journey to the gate.

It was early— too early for most of the members to be anything but a little groggy. They had a long flight ahead to Seattle for their ‘Be the Sun’ tour concert, and it showed in the occasional yawn, tired smiles, and slow movements as they waited in line to enter their gate.

Luna stood in the middle of the line, nestled between Wonwoo, who was in front of her, and Seungcheol, who lingered protectively behind.

[In just a few seconds you guys would see how Choi Seungcheol became my bias]

[on a side note… look how hot he looks 😩 DADDY!]

Luna was chatting quietly with Wonwoo about the new show she was watching late last night, her voice calm as she ran through the reason why she got zero sleep.

Everything felt routine.

The members bowed and waved occasionally to the fans and cameras across the barricades, but it was all in the usual ebb and flow of their lives on tour. There was nothing unusual about the morning, just the soft hum of their conversations and the distant screams of their loyal Carats.

[I love how they still try their best to greet Carats despite being so tired 🥹]

And then it happened.

In the middle of her sentence, Luna was cut off by the sound of a man’s voice— a deep, rough yell from somewhere beyond the barricade. He was shouting her name, which wasn’t entirely strange. Fans often called out to her, but there was something different in the way this man shouted. It wasn’t the excited, breathless tone of a fan. It was urgent, desperate, and far too aggressive.

[guys I’m being so fr rn, this clip till this day pisses me the fuck off]

Before Luna or anyone else could process what was happening, there was a sudden movement from their side.

Out of nowhere, the man broke past security and somehow made it too close, far closer than any fan should’ve been allowed. He wasn’t behind the barricades anymore— he was there, within arm’s reach of the members.

[LOOK AT THIS FUCKING BUM]

[If I see him istg it’s on sight]

[I didn’t bother blurring his face cause… why should I?!]

The air around them shifted, the fans behind the barricades screaming in shock, but it was too late. Luna didn’t have time to turn and see him before she felt it.

A tight grip suddenly clamped down on her right arm.

It was jarring, a harsh pull that yanked her back, shocking her out of the moment. The man— eyes wild and frantic— was tugging her towards him, shouting about how much he loved her. “Luna, Jiyeon-ah! You don’t understand, I love you! I’m in love with you! I need you to know! I’m obsessed with you!”

[yeah we can tell, loser]

Luna’s breath hitched in her throat. The world around her blurred as the fans screamed louder, their voices tinged with panic. For a split second, her brain froze, and she couldn’t fully process what was happening. The man’s hand was too tight, too rough, and before she could pull away, she felt herself being dragged towards him.

[look at her face, motherfucker! look at how scared she looks]

[TWICE HER SIZE AND HE FUCKING YANKS HER]

But then, in an instant, everything shifted again.

Before Luna could even react, she felt a firm grip around her waist— a strong, grounding force pulling her back from the man’s grasp.

[IT’S THE SPEED!! IT WAS THE WAY HE REACTED!!]

[CHEOLIE’S REFLEXES ARE NEXT LEVEL]

[🫠🫠🫠]

Seungcheol, who had been just behind her, moved like a flash, his expression steely as his arm looped securely around her. His fingers pressed tightly against her waist, holding her in place, but his other hand wasn’t idle. With a swift, practiced motion, Seungcheol reached out and grabbed the man’s arm, yanking it away from Luna with more strength than the man had anticipated.

“Let go.” Seungcheol’s voice was firm, sharp with authority but calm, almost dangerously calm, as he shoved the man’s hand off her with little effort.

[GOODBYE WORLD]

[I– no words… there are no words]

[Honestly, if I were that sasaeng, I’d just tell my heart to stop right then and there]

[Choi Seungcheol is scary wbk]

At the same time, Wonwoo had spun around, his eyes dark with alarm. His hand immediately found Luna’s, grasping her left hand firmly as he pulled her back to safety, away from the chaos. The sudden switch from casual conversation to this whirlwind of confusion sent a surge of adrenaline through him. His usually stoic face was a mixture of concern and anger as he held Luna’s hand tighter, making sure she wasn’t being pulled any further.

[brb I’m gonna cry]

[Wonwoo was holding onto her for dear life]

The sasaeng stumbled backward as Seungcheol released him, but it wasn’t over yet.

The moment Seungcheol tore the man’s hand off Luna’s arm, the rest of the members immediately closed in, surrounding her like a protective shield.

[They look so worried 🥺]

[Jiyeon is so loved]

Security finally rushed in, grabbing the man and pulling him away from the members, the fans still screaming in horror and disbelief at what had just unfolded.

[Also what took y’all so fucking long 😠]

Seungcheol barely had time to check her well-being before he was pushed back into action, taking control of the situation as the leader.

As the fans continued to scream in both shock and confusion, Jeonghan was by Luna’s side in an instant, his face painted with worry. His hand hovered near her shoulder as he looked her over, asking softly, “Are you okay?” before Mingyu stepped up beside him, eyes scanning her for any sign of distress.

“I’m okay,” Luna nodded as she shook caressed the now red flesh of her right arm.

[MY PRONOUNS ARE J.E.O.N.G.N.A RAHHHH]

The members formed a tight circle around her, creating a barrier between Luna and the crowd as they took turns asking her if she was alright. Jeonghan, Mingyu, Seungkwan, Dino, Wonwoo, and Dokyeom stood close, their faces unusually serious, while Minghao, Joshua, and Vernon kept a vigilant eye on the situation, making sure no one else could get close. Even Woozi, Jun, and Hoshi, who had been half-asleep just moments ago, were now alert and focused, standing protectively near her.

[they baracaded her real fast]

[THIS IS HOW THE SECRET SERVICE REACTS WHEN THERE IS A THREAT TO THE FUCKING PRESIDENT]

[WE LOVE TO SEE IT]

Luna, is still in shock. Her heart pounded in her chest, her mind still trying to catch up with what had just happened. The touch of the man’s rough hand still lingered on her skin, but the warmth and safety of her members anchored her in the present, pulling her out of the chaos and fear.

Meanwhile, off to the side, fans caught a glimpse of Seungcheol in full leader mode, visibly angry as he appeared to scold their security team.

[HE IS SO FUCKING HOT FOR THIS 🥵]

[THIS👏 MAN 👏 DOESN’T 👏 PLAY 👏 WHEN 👏 IT 👏 COMES 👏 TO 👏 HIS 👏 MEMBERS]

Seungcheol’s body language was sharp and commanding, hands gesturing firmly as he instructed them on how to handle the situation. No one could hear exactly what he was saying, but it was clear from his tone and expression that he was furious. His jaw clenched, his eyes steely, he pointed toward the barricades and the area where the man had broken through, making sure there would be no more mistakes.

[blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name…]

[What I’d give to hear what he’s saying rn]

Fans watching from the other side couldn’t help but be struck by how protective and authoritative he was, silently appreciating the way SEVENTEEN took care of their own.

Once all that was taken care of, Seungcheol finally turned back and glanced down at Luna, his voice now softer but still firm. “You okay?” His eyes scanned her for any signs of distress or injury as he gently caressed her arm, his brows furrowed with concern.

[WHERE DO YOU GET A MAN LIKE THIS?!]

[I’m in love with him it’s not funny anymore 😔]

Luna nodded slowly, though her heart was still racing. “I’m okay, Cheolie… thank you,” she managed to whisper, her voice shaky but steadying.

“Thank you, Wonwoo oppa,” Luna turned to the man next to her who gave her a silent not, clearly still disturbed.

But Seungcheol wasn’t fully convinced she was fine… none of the members did. They could tell from how she twisted the rings on her fingers.

Seungcheol placed his arm around her shoulders, keeping her close as they moved forward, ensuring she was safe and that the man was well out of reach. Meanwhile, the rest of the members hovered around her. Jeonghan was beside her, now holding her hand, his grip tight and his presence still solid and reassuring.

[HAVE I MENTIONED I LOVE JEONGNA]

[the way Cheol and Han kept holding her till they entered their gate 🥹]

The fans, who had just witnessed the entire event, were still in a state of shock, but now their screams had shifted. Instead of panic, there were chants of Luna’s name, filled with concern and admiration for how the members especially Seungcheol and Wonwoo had handled the situation.

It was only then, as the adrenaline began to fade, that Luna realized just how much she had been relying on them. Without them, without their quick thinking and protective instincts, she didn’t want to think about what could’ve happened.

‘FEAR’ WARDROBE MALFUNCTION IN JAPAN

The concert in Japan was in full swing, the arena lights flashing to the heavy beat of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Fear’ as they performed for thousands of cheering fans.

[Another one of my favorite clips, ladies and gentlemen]

The energy in the air was electric, the members synchronized perfectly with their intense choreography and sharp vocals. Luna was in the center of the stage, dressed in a sleek black attire that matched the rest of the members— black leather pants that accentuated her legs accompanied by a black sleeveless top with a zipper running down the back.

[MOM LOOKS HOT BTW 🥵]

The moment was flawless— until it wasn’t.

In the midst of a spin, as she did the choreography with the rest of the members, Luna felt the distinct sensation of her zipper giving way.

A chill ran down her spine as the entire back of her top unzipped, fully exposing her skin. Her black top was now hanging loose, barely held together by the fabric at the front.

But Luna, ever the professional, didn’t miss a beat. Her face remained fierce and intense, completely matching the dark, brooding mood of the song. Not a flicker of panic crossed her expression as she continued to sing, her voice steady, her movements sharp. Her body flowed with the choreography as if nothing was wrong, even though her mind was racing.

[her top was literally hanging by a thread]

[I don’t know how she does it. I would have panicked]

[It’s a good thing the zipper was at her back 🫥]

Some of the members noticed almost immediately. Being behind her in the formation, they had a clear view of her exposed back. Hoshi, who was a few steps to the side, caught a glimpse of her loose top during a turn, his eyes widening slightly in realization— however, he was a few steps too far to do anything about it.

Just as they transitioned to another part of the routine, Luna shifted her glance to the side and locked eyes with Dokyeom, who was right behind her. His eyes were filled with concern, his expression subtle but clear— her back was fully exposed, and they needed to fix it.

Luna, ever so composed, gave him a single, almost imperceptible nod. The kind of nod only someone who knew her well could catch. It was all she needed to convey her understanding.

[Again, it amazes me how fast they pulled this off]

[it took me like five times to understand how DK did it]

[Watch Dokyeomie closely]

Dokyeom, without hesitation, stepped into action while maintaining the choreography flawlessly. As they moved through the next steps, their bodies swayed and spun in perfect sync with the music, but every move was calculated.

Luna, still dancing and keeping her facial expression strong, swept her long hair from the back to the front in one fluid motion, letting it cascade over her shoulder. She exposed her bare back fully to Dokyeom, who was quick to react.

[HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵 HOT 🥵]

[maybe that’s why it’s so hard to catch DK zipping her up… Jiyeonie is too distracting]

With the precision and speed that only a professional dancer could pull off, Dokyeom zipped up the back of her top as if it were part of the routine. His fingers worked fast, pulling the zipper up in one smooth, swift motion while simultaneously stepping to the side, his feet moving in perfect time with the beat.

To any fan watching from the crowd, it would have looked like just another part of the choreography, so seamless was their execution. Luna barely flinched, continuing to sing with full power, her movements never faltering as she danced across the stage. The members around them barely blinked; they had seen what happened and knew the situation was under control.

[LIKE— WHAT?!]

[one minute her back was fully exposed and the next no skin at all!!?]

[THAT’S TALENT RIGHT THERE 👏👏👏]

The arena was still filled with flashing lights and screaming fans, but among them, some of the more eagle-eyed fans caught the moment on their phones. Every angle of the stage showed Dokyeom's swift actions and Luna's incredible poise. Twitter was already lighting up with comments about how professional they were.

As the final chorus hit, Luna and Dokyeom made eye contact once more. Luna, still keeping in character, mouthed a soft, “Thank you,” barely visible to the cameras, but enough for Dokyeom to see. He gave her a quick wink and a nod, his lips curling up into a small, reassuring smile before they both turned their attention back to the performance, moving seamlessly into the final formation.

[I want to be so good at something that I am this casual on stage]

From that point forward, no one would have guessed anything had gone wrong. The performance continued flawlessly, but fans watching from the crowd and at home couldn't help but be amazed at how fast and professional they both were. It was a moment of pure teamwork, a quiet display of trust and coordination between members that reminded everyone just how close SEVENTEEN really was—onstage and off.

THE BLANKET BLOCK ™

Now, let me introduce to you ‘The Infamous Blocks’. There are three in total— ‘The Blanket’, ‘The Body’, and ‘The Bear’. I might sound like I am joking but I’m being so serious…

Lets start with the ‘Blanket Block’

The night was electric with excitement, the air buzzing with anticipation as fans lined the barricades of the red carpet at MAMA 2017 in Japan. The event was one of the most awaited of the year, and the energy surrounding the venue was palpable. Cameras flashed wildly, fans screamed with glee, and a sea of lightsticks waved as the SEVENTEEN van rolled to a slow stop at the edge of the carpet. The sleek black vehicle gleamed under the lights as if announcing the arrival of something grand. One by one, the members began to step out.

First came S.Coups, stepping confidently onto the red carpet, his sharp black suit catching the light just right. The fans erupted in cheers, phones already out and recording as each member made their way down the line. Mingyu followed, waving briefly to the crowd, and then Seungkwan, whose grin brightened as he acknowledged the fans’ excitement. Each member received their share of attention, but it wasn’t just for the boys the crowd was waiting.

[they looked too good to be true this night]

Inside the van, Luna sat, fixing her dress, her hands smoothing over the soft fabric nervously. She knew the moment she stepped out, all eyes would be on her. But more than the eyes, it was the cameras. The predatory gleam of lenses ready to snap her from every angle made her feel vulnerable, and exposed. Tonight, she was wearing an elegant, sleek black dress— classy but form-fitting— and she knew the moment she stepped out, the cameras wouldn’t be kind if they caught anything inappropriate.

Jeonghan, who had just stepped out of the van, paused at the door and leaned back inside. His pink hair gleamed under the overhead lights, but his gaze was focused entirely on Luna, not the crowd.

He noticed her slight hesitation and saw the way her hands twitched with uncertainty as she adjusted her dress. He leaned in closer, his voice soft and comforting, though the words were lost to the flashing lights and the fans’ endless chants. Whatever he said, it calmed her enough for her to take a deep breath and prepare to step out.

[I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HE SAID TO HER]

[I’m desperate, please]

But before she could fully exit the van, Jeonghan reached inside and swiftly grabbed a dark blanket that had been folded near the seats. With a smooth, practiced motion, he unfolded it and held it open in front of the door, shielding Luna from the prying eyes and flashing cameras that would’ve otherwise had a clear view of her legs and dress as she maneuvered out of the car.

[GOODBYE WORLD PT. 2]

[YOON JEONGHAN IS THE STANDARD]

He didn’t rush her, didn’t make a big deal of it; his movements were calm, unbothered as if this were second nature to him. The blanket draped in his hands, blocking the lower part of her from view.

[I WANT HIM]

[LORD HE’S PERFECT IN EVERY WAY POSSIBLE]

Luna, catching the gesture, couldn’t help but feel a wave of warmth and gratitude. Her face softened as she adjusted her dress under the cover of the blanket. She took a moment to gather herself, making sure every inch of fabric was in place, every crease smoothed out.

She met Jeonghan’s eyes for a brief second, and the silent exchange between them said more than words could have. A nod of reassurance. A small, grateful smile.

[she just swooned… don’t at me]

Jeonghan, still holding the blanket like a shield, waited for her signal. Only when Luna gave him the okay— a subtle but confident nod— did he let the blanket drop.

[HE– I– can’t. I need him in my life]

In a smooth motion, he tossed it back inside the van and extended his hand to her. Luna stepped out gracefully, her confidence restored as her feet touched the ground. The cameras immediately went into overdrive, capturing every inch of her, but Jeonghan remained beside her, his hand still on hers, helping her as they moved forward together.

[MOM AND DAD ARE SO FUCKING HOT]

[CAN I BE THE THIRD IN THIS RELATIONSHIP?!]

[please, I’m begging… I can be a pet… I can bark]

The cheers from the crowd doubled as Luna appeared. The fans, who had been screaming the members’ names, now turned their attention to the only female member of SEVENTEEN, and the energy shifted.

But Jeonghan never let go of her hand, guiding her with a quiet but firm presence. He knew how these events worked, how easily one wrong angle could lead to unnecessary scrutiny. And so, even as they posed together on the red carpet, his body was angled ever so slightly in her favor, offering her the subtle kind of protection that no one would notice but her.

[😩😩😩😩]

[look at them]

The fans closest to the barricades noticed it, though. They had seen the entire interaction, from the way Jeonghan covered her with the blanket to the way he never once let her fend for herself. And it didn’t go unnoticed how he tossed the blanket away only once he was certain she was completely comfortable. Luna's smile was as radiant as ever, but beneath it was the comfort of knowing that, even in a sea of flashing lights and camera lenses, someone always had her back.

[ICONIC. SIMPLY ICONIC.]

[one of the most iconic Jeongna moments]

THE BODY BLOCK ™

Next is my favorite out of the three… the ‘Body Block’

The night sky over Seoul was illuminated by the flashing lights of countless cameras, the red carpet stretching out like a sea of glamour and anticipation. It was the Cartier event of 2022, an evening that promised to bring together the city's most elegant and well-known figures.

Among them were Luna and Mingyu, two of Cartier’s most prominent models and brand ambassadors. Their presence alone was enough to send a ripple of excitement through the crowd, but the fact that they both wore red, in perfectly coordinated outfits, had the press buzzing.

[RED IS THEIR COLOR]

[I’m sorry– they looks so hot and intimidating]

Luna stepped out first, her heels clicking softly against the smooth surface of the red carpet. She was the embodiment of grace, her tall, slender frame draped in a stunning, floor-length red dress.

The dress was an exquisite piece— a bold, deep crimson that shimmered under the camera lights. It was strapless on one side, while the other featured a delicate, thin strap that wrapped over her shoulder, highlighting the gentle curve of her collarbone. The material clung to her figure in all the right ways, its fabric flowing down to her feet like liquid silk, pooling elegantly around her ankles. A daring slit along one side revealed a hint of her leg as she moved, but it was done tastefully, maintaining an air of sophistication and class.

[I WAS DROOLING WHEN I SAW HER]

[she doesn’t look real 😭]

[like– I’m convinced she’s a hologram]

Mingyu followed closely behind her, equally striking in his tailored red suit. The suit jacket was perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders, the crimson fabric complementing the sharp black of his shirt underneath.

[DOUBLE KILL]

[I AM SORRY— sir?!]

[I am loyal to Seungcheol… am I?]

Together, they made a captivating pair, their outfits harmonizing in a way that felt almost intentional, like they were meant to stand side by side on this particular night.

As they posed for the cameras, the flashes were relentless, a barrage of light capturing their every move. Luna stood tall, her chin slightly raised, one hand placed elegantly on her hip while her other arm hung loosely at her side. Beside her, Mingyu struck his own pose, the definition of cool confidence, his dark eyes locking with the cameras as they both stood center stage, an image of luxury and refinement.

[They’d be so hot together… I didn’t say that 😀]

And then it happened— so quickly that it could have been missed by anyone not paying attention. As Luna shifted her weight, turning her body slightly to change her angle, one of the thin straps of her dress slipped from her shoulder. The movement was subtle, barely noticeable at first, but as the strap fell, it revealed the bare skin of her shoulder.

[EVEN HER SHOULDER LOOKS PRETTIER THAN ME]

[DOES THAT MAKE SENSE!??]

Luna’s eyes flickered downward for a moment, a small crease of surprise appearing on her otherwise composed face.

Without missing a beat, she calmly reached up and tugged the strap back into place, her fingers grazing the cool fabric as she pulled it back over her shoulder. Her expression remained neutral, her movements composed— professional, as always. But Mingyu had seen it. The moment the strap fell, his attention snapped to her, eyes narrowing with concern for a fraction of a second.

[I’m convince every single member has spidey senses when it comes to her]

In a split-second decision, Mingyu moved. He stepped directly in front of Luna, his tall frame blocking her from the cameras with an easy, natural movement. His back was now facing the cameras, shielding her from their view as she adjusted the strap. His broad shoulders and the crimson jacket became a makeshift curtain, offering her privacy in an instant.

[🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[LORD IT’S ME AGAIN]

[JEHUENDUWGYWGEJIWUDGUWBWKAIYWGUWB]

Luna looked up at him, her fingers still smoothing over the strap of her dress as she finished fixing it. Their eyes met, and for a moment, no words were needed. A small, appreciative smile touched her lips, her eyes softening as she gave him a simple nod of thanks.

Mingyu, always effortlessly cool, returned the gesture with a brief smile of his own, his eyes flickering with a silent understanding. Then, just as smoothly as he had positioned himself in front of her, he moved back to his original spot, turning to face the cameras once more, as if nothing had happened.

[THEY ALWAYS MAKE SURE SHE’S READY BEFORE THEY FUCKING STOP 🥹]

[they are so obedient too]

The photographers continued their frenzy, completely unaware of the quiet, protective exchange that had just taken place between the two. To them, it had been a seamless transition— nothing out of the ordinary. But to those paying close attention, the subtle moment of protection from Mingyu was not only graceful but instinctual, a sign of the quiet care he had for Luna, his fellow ambassador, and friend.

Together, they resumed their poses, their red outfits glowing under the lights, and once again, they became the perfect image of poise and elegance. But those who knew— who saw the quick flash of concern in Mingyu’s eyes and the gratitude in Luna’s smile— recognized the deeper connection between them, one that went beyond their roles on the red carpet.

The event continued, but that brief moment lingered, caught by the lucky fans who were watching closely enough to see the exchange, a testament to the unspoken bond shared by the two.

THE BEAR BLOCK ™

And finally, the ‘Bear Block’

The soft glow of the hotel room’s ambient lighting bathed the cozy space in a warm hue as Minghao and Luna sat side by side on the edge of her bed, engaging with fans in their casual Weverse live. Luna’s hotel room was comfortably minimalistic—soft cream-colored walls, sleek furniture, and the faint scent of lavender wafting through the air from a diffuser on the nightstand. Behind them, a plush teddy bear sat tucked into the pillows, a gift Luna had received from a fan earlier that day, its little beady eyes gleaming under the camera's light.

[IT’S THE OTHER SET OF TWINS OF SEVENTEEN]

[the 97 line twins]

It was a typical live stream for the two— comfortable and relaxed. Luna, in her soft oversized hoodie, was leaning back against the bedpost while Minghao, dressed in his usual stylish yet casual attire, lounged next to her. Their conversation flowed naturally as they laughed and answered fans’ questions. Minghao would occasionally break into Chinese, his voice smooth as he spoke in his mother tongue, and Luna, always eager to learn, would repeat his phrases with childlike excitement, though her pronunciation was less polished.

[they are so cute 🥺]

[I love this duo so much]

Minghao chuckled each time she got it wrong, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “No, no, like this,” he’d say, gently correcting her, the fondness in his tone unmistakable. He would then patiently translate the meaning into Korean for her and their fans, smiling as Luna exaggeratedly repeated the words again, determined to get it right.

[I am so soft for them]

The chat was buzzing with messages, and the number of viewers kept rising steadily as more fans joined in, thrilled by the duo’s easy-going dynamic. Luna, always full of energy, glanced at the screen, her sharp eyes catching one of the rapid comments. She leaned forward to get a better look, her long hair cascading down one side of her face as she brought her face closer to her phone.

"Wait, what does this say—" Luna began, her voice trailing off mid-sentence. Just as she was about to read the comment aloud, Minghao, who had been fiddling with the teddy bear on the bed, made a swift movement. In a fraction of a second, without a word, he gently but firmly pressed the soft bear against her chest, covering her entirely from view.

[this cracked me up 😂]

[the fact the Hao just shoved the bear in front of her was just hilarious]

Luna froze for a heartbeat, her eyes widening in surprise as she realized what had just happened. Her body had leaned forward just a little too far, and in her oversized hoodie, there had been a chance she might have inadvertently revealed something on camera that wasn’t meant to be seen. Minghao, with his ever-watchful eye and sharp instincts, had noticed it instantly.

[Hao really said: “not on my watch.” 🧸]

Her breath hitched for a moment as she glanced at him, her face a mix of shock and silent gratitude. Minghao, his expression calm and collected, simply nodded at her in a way that conveyed everything without words. He didn’t make a big deal of it; his actions were smooth and almost invisible to the casual observer. His nod was one of quiet understanding, a signal that she didn’t need to worry— he had her back.

[He’s also so fucking hot, lawd]

Luna’s heart swelled with appreciation, but she played it cool. With a soft exhale, she shot him a small, grateful smile. “Thank you,” she muttered under her breath, barely audible but enough for Minghao to hear.

He gave a subtle smile in return, his eyes crinkling slightly as he continued to idly hold the bear in place, casually moving it as though it were part of their lighthearted banter.

Luna straightened back up, her posture relaxed once more, and resumed the conversation as if nothing had happened.

Luna’s smile returned as she read through more comments, her face as calm and composed as ever, a professional through and through.

[CUTIESSSSSS 💕💕💕]

They continued answering fan questions as the live stretched on, but the silent gesture lingered in the air like an unspoken promise— proof that, no matter what, Minghao was always watching out for her, and Luna was never truly alone.

LUNA’S TRAINEE STORY IN GAME CATERERS 1-2

“It says here that you are known to cause fights.” PD Na said.

[THIS ENTIRE STORY RIGHT HERE]

The sudden statement caught everyone off guard. The members burst into laughter while Luna sat there, shocked and confused, unsure of how to respond.

“Me?” she asked, pointing to herself, her voice tinged with disbelief. “Fights? Where did you hear that?” She laughed, still trying to process the unexpected accusation.

[She’s just that bitch. She didn’t even know]

PD Na pointed at his paper, a teasing grin on his face. “We did our research. It says here that you caused a lot of fights when you were a trainee.”

A chorus of agreements erupted from the members, with many of them pointing at her and Jeonghan, nodding vigorously.

“That’s right!”

“He’s right!” they echoed, their voices overlapping as they teased her.

"This is amazing," Dokyeom laughed harder.

“What?” Luna turned to look at her members, her confusion deepening as she tried to piece together what they were talking about. "Huh? What are you guys talking about?"

Then her eyes landed on Jeonghan who was already watching her, and it all clicked. The realization dawned on her face, her expression shifting from confusion to understanding, and then to amusement. “Ah,” she laughed, finally catching on.

[SHE TOOK ONE LOOK AT JEONGHAN AND KNEW EXACTLY WHAT THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT]

Jeonghan, always the instigator, just grinned back at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

[he’s proud too]

As the memory clicked into place, Luna laughed harder, her laughter bubbling over as she covered her mouth with her hands. “This is amazing,” she marveled, still giggling. “How did you guys find out about that? I had completely forgotten about it.”

PD Na watched her with amusement, leaning forward slightly. “Can you tell us about it?” he asked, clearly intrigued.

Luna glanced at Jeonghan, who nodded in agreement, his smile knowing. She turned back to the group, preparing to recount the story. “It was when I was a trainee, and I was new at ‘PLEDIS’. This happened about five months after I joined,” Luna began, her hands moving animatedly as she spoke. “This one time, I just had the hardest day. The training was intense, I was sick at that time as well, and I remember stressing over my exams because I was still in school.”

Everyone listened carefully, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement. Her members, who knew the story well, giggled quietly, already anticipating where it was headed.

Luna continued, “I hadn’t eaten the entire day. I came to the practice room, and I had an apple. Then, one of the trainees came over, and he was teasing me.”

She paused, mimicking the boy’s actions by raising her hand as if holding something up high. “He took my apple, raised it up, and teased me to take it. He kept doing it and wouldn't give it to me up to the point that I just started crying,” Luna admitted, laughing at the memory of her younger, more vulnerable self.

“Aww,” the members and producers chorused, a mixture of sympathy and amusement in their voices.

[THEY ARE SO SOFT FOR HER WTF 🥺]

Luna pressed on, “Then, all of a sudden, Jeonghannie oppa came in.” She placed her hand on Jeonghan’s leg, and though he made no move, he continued listening to her, his smirk growing as he anticipated the end of the story. “He saw me crying, took one look at the apple, and then he went…”

Luna mimicked Jeonghan’s deep, angry voice and stern expression, saying, “‘Give it back'.”

The room exploded into shrieks. The members erupted in howls and laughter, some leaping out of their seats, while others covered their mouths in teasing disbelief. The laughter was contagious, filling the room. Luna and Jeonghan remained seated next to each other, smiling as the room buzzed with the chaotic energy of their shared memories.

[only same reaction]

As the laughter in the room finally began to die down, Luna continued the story, still smiling. “The trainee still wouldn’t give it back and thought Hannie oppa was joking with him,” she said, recalling the moment. “Then he went, ‘I said give it back,’ but the trainee just laughed at him. Oppa was one of the oldest, so it was a bit disrespectful…”

PD Na, fully invested in the story, leaned in slightly. “Then… what did he do?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

Jeonghan, his voice calm and deep, answered this time, his eyes still carrying that signature droopy look as he smirked lazily. “I cursed him out.”

The casual delivery of his words contrasted with the intensity of the moment, making the members erupt into a chorus of teasing.

"Ooh, he cursed!"

"He really cursed him out!"

"He cursed!" they repeated, pointing at Jeonghan and laughing even harder.

Luna nodded, trying to keep a straight face, before wrapping up the story. "Then after that, we left, and he bought me food."

[out of all the things PLEDIS could’ve fucking released in that training room it could have been this!]

Before PD Na could reply, Seungkwan jumped in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There was also this one time. Maybe a year after that incident."

PD Na raised his eyebrows, intrigued. "There's another one?"

Luna, confused, turned to look at Seungkwan, who was seated behind her. "What else is there?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

[SHE’S LOST]

"It happened a year before we debuted," Seungkwan leaned forward, his voice carrying a nostalgic tone. "Noona is beautiful. She's really beautiful. Even back then when she was younger, she hasn't changed at all. Not once. She looks the exact same. The only thing that changed is her height." He emphasized each word to PD Na, while Luna listened quietly, her members nodding in agreement.

[I AGREE]

"She was an extremely popular trainee," Seungkwan continued. "A lot of boys liked her."

[SAME]

With that, a chorus of agreements spilled from the mouths of the members. "That's true," Mingyu said, nodding along with the others.

[GOOD. SO WE ALL AGREE.]

"There was a time when two trainees were literally arguing about her because they both liked her, and they decided to talk to her about it and make her decide," Seungkwan added, glancing over at Luna with a grin.

"I remember this," S.Coups chuckled, his eyes lighting up with the memory.

Luna’s eyes widened as she finally recalled the story. "Oh, right! Once they saw me, they started arguing in front of me," she nodded, using her hands to illustrate the scene.

[She explained that as if it’s the most normal thing in the world]

"Right. They were literally fighting in front of her," Seungkwan affirmed. "The members present tried to make them stop, but one thing led to another, and they both grabbed Luna by each hand," Seungkwan demonstrated the movement, grabbing Wonwoo’s arm to illustrate the point.

[WHAT I WOULD DO TO SEE THIS]

"Jeonghan… He was the angriest I've ever seen him in my life," Seungkwan said, raising his hand as if swearing to the truth.

[WHAT I WOULD DO TO SEE THIS PT. 2]

Seungkwan then stood up, pulling Wonwoo to his feet to act out the scene. "Jeonghan went up to them and just…" He mimicked Jeonghan’s aggressive stance, facing Wonwoo head-on, his expression fierce.

"Jeonghan had really long hair back then, so it was swaying like this," Seungkwan added, shaking his head from side to side, imitating the way Jeonghan’s hair had moved during the confrontation. "'Let go,'" he said in a deep, angry voice, perfectly mimicking Jeonghan.

[ANGRY JEONGHAN + LONG-HAIRED JEONGHAN = 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

Another chorus of amused, teasing "Oohs" erupted from the members, while Luna sat laughing, her shoulders shaking with mirth.

S.Coups, still seated, shook his head with a grin. "I had to get him off. It was the first time I saw Jeonghan angry as well," he confessed, looking at Jeonghan with a mixture of admiration and amusement.

[good lord. PLEDIS RELEASE THE FOOTAGE NOW. I KNOW YOU HAVE IT THERE SOMEWHERE]

PD Na directed his attention to Jeonghan, raising an eyebrow with an amused smile. "It seems like you're involved in a lot of these stories."

[He knows what’s up]

Before Jeonghan could respond, Dokyeom cut in with a knowing grin. "Jeonghan is the most protective of Luna."

[I BEG TO DIFFER BUT ACCURATE]

Luna quickly interjected, shaking her head with a smile. "No, it’s because he was the first person I became friends with when I joined. He was the person I was most comfortable with."

[🥹🥹🥹]

Jeonghan finally spoke up, his tone nonchalant as if the answer was obvious. "How else am I supposed to react during that situation?"

[right. right. right.]

Hoshi chimed in, nodding in agreement. "He’s cool."

"Very cool," Minghao said.

[He’s hot too]

Seungkwan, ever the dramatic one, couldn’t resist adding his flair. "I swear it was like a drama," he said, his voice filled with exaggerated emotion. "It was like you could hear the song play… 'Almost Paradise'…'" He sang the familiar tune, sending the room into another round of laughter.

[YESSSSSSSSSS]

PD Na, still chuckling, looked back at Jeonghan and Luna. "It’s because she’s your best friend. You two are the closest."

Both Luna and Jeonghan nodded, confirming the bond they shared.

"She's like your younger sister," PD Na added thoughtfully.

[sure]

Jeonghan, who had been nodding in agreement, suddenly faltered. "N– y–yes," he stuttered, quickly changing his answer.

[HE AINT SLICK AT ALL]

The subtle exchange of looks between Jeonghan and Luna that followed didn’t go unnoticed. Jeonghan's eyes lingered on her for just a moment, while Luna remained composed, though there was a fleeting glint of something unspoken in her eyes. It was a small, almost imperceptible moment, but the hesitation in Jeonghan’s response added a strange tension to the room that only the members noticed and understood as if there was more to the story than they were letting on.

[CALL ME INSANE BUT THERE WAS SOMETHING THERE]

[THE MEMBERS KNOW TOO]

PD Na, oblivious to the undercurrent, chuckled again. "I never thought you would be the type of person to fight," he remarked to Jeonghan, amused by the contrast between his usual calm demeanor and the stories being told.

The room burst into laughter again, and in perfect sync, both Luna and Jeonghan replied, "You’d think."

[GOD I LOVE THEM]

LUNA’S ALMOST FACE-PLANTING OFF THE STAGE

It was the encore stage of SEVENTEEN’s ‘Be The Sun’ concert in Los Angeles, the never-ending loop of ‘Very Nice’ ringing through the arena as the crowd screamed and chanted along. The energy was electric, and all fourteen members were spread across the stage, bouncing with uncontainable excitement.

[it’s always this song btw]

[shit always happens during this never-ending song]

They’d already run through what seemed like a dozen rounds of the song, yet the adrenaline kept them going, fueled by the roars of the fans.

Luna, like the rest, was in high spirits, hopping from side to side, her voice blending with the sea of cheers as she waved down to the fans in the pit.

[SPIT ON ME– w-what?!]

She had found herself at the very edge of the stage, close enough that she could see the eager faces reaching up toward her, arms outstretched and phones recording every moment. Luna smiled and waved, her fingers making heart signs as she interacted with the fans who screamed her name in delight.

[She’s adorable and hot at the same time]

[like– how does one achieve that skill]

Her hair was slightly damp from all the jumping, and she pushed it out of her face, not noticing the sheen of water accumulating by her feet. The other members had been throwing water bottles into the crowd moments earlier, and the puddles left behind were nearly invisible under the bright concert lights.

In the heat of the moment, Luna took a step forward, her foot catching the slick surface beneath her. Her sneakers slid out from under her, and for a brief, terrifying second, her body lurched forward, dangerously close to toppling off the stage. Her balance was gone, the crowd gasping in unison as they watched her stumble.

[SHE LITERALLY WAS THIS 🤏 CLOSE TO SEEING JESUS]

But before gravity could pull her down, two pairs of hands shot out— firm and fast. Dino, who had been dancing nearby, immediately grabbed her left arm with a firm grip, his reflexes kicking in as he sensed her falling. At the same moment, Vernon, who had been casually walking past on her right, caught her other arm, his hands locking around her elbow with precision. Together, the two maknaes stabilized her, each holding on tightly as she regained her footing.

[THEY BOTH LOOKED EQUALLY TERRIFIED]

[Someone bubble wrap Jiyeonie I’m so serious]

For a moment, everything seemed to pause. The three of them stood frozen, catching their breaths as the arena’s lights flashed around them.

[the way the three of them just froze]

Luna’s heart raced as she realized how close she had been to a disastrous fall, right in front of thousands of fans. She turned to look at Dino and Vernon, their hands still gripping her arms firmly. Their faces mirrored a mixture of concern and relief, and they exchanged a silent understanding in that brief, weighty second.

Luna, her chest heaving, mouthed the words, “Thank you… I almost died,” her eyes wide with mock dramatization.

Her words, though lost in the chaos of the concert, were picked up by eagle-eyed fans close enough to lip-read the exchange. Dino let out a relieved laugh, his lips quirking into a smile, while Vernon gave a subtle nod, eyes flicking toward her with a smirk, as if to say, “Yup, you almost died.”

In the span of a heartbeat, the moment passed. Dino and Vernon released their hold as she straightened herself, shaking off the near-incident. Luna turned back to the audience with a bright grin, as if nothing had happened, raising her arms and encouraging the crowd to scream even louder.

[SHE’S SO UNSERIOUS 😂]

The fans, unaware of just how close she’d been to falling, cheered even harder, oblivious to the small protective moment that had unfolded before their eyes.

As the three continued dancing, the members spread back out across the stage, the concert’s rhythm never missing a beat.

THIS LIVE THAT MAKES MY BLOOD BOIL

Hoshi’s live had started like any other, full of laughter, easy conversation, and the familiar warmth of interacting with fans. As he sat in front of the camera, casually talking about everything from the group’s upcoming schedules to his favorite food that day, the comments section filled with excitement, fans from all over the world typing out their love and admiration for SEVENTEEN's energetic tiger.

[AH YES, ANOTHER CLIP THAT PISSES ME THE FUCK OFF]

But then, the live took an unexpected turn as both Joshua and Luna suddenly appeared on screen. Joshua casually strolled into the room, his ever-present smile lighting up his face as he greeted the viewers. “Hey, everyone!” he said, settling down beside Hoshi.

Luna followed quietly, a soft, polite wave to the camera as she sat next to Joshua. Her presence, while usually met with joy from fans, always came with its fair share of negativity as well, something she’d long since come to terms with as the only female member of SEVENTEEN.

At first, the chat exploded with excitement.

“OMG Joshua!!”

“YAY, Jiyeonie is here too!!”

“Look at these visuals!!!”

But quickly, as always, the tide began to shift. Hidden between the floods of hearts and cheers, darker comments started appearing.

They always did.

“Why is she even here?”

“We only wanted Joshua and Hoshi, not her.”

“She ruins it as always.”

“Please leave, no one wants to see you.”

Luna sat quietly, her eyes flickering over the comments, her usual smile frozen on her face. She had grown used to this, a side effect of being the only girl in a thirteen-member male-dominated group.

[YOU MOTHERFUCKERS BETTER ROT IN HELL]

[look at her face!]

No matter how much love she received, there were always those who couldn't accept her presence.

Over the years, she had developed a thick skin.

She knew she didn’t need to prove herself to anyone, that she was just as much a part of SEVENTEEN as any of the others, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable to read such words over and over again. It was as though the hate was a dark cloud that hovered just beyond the warmth of the stage lights, waiting to seep in whenever she let her guard down.

Joshua, sitting next to her, immediately sensed the shift in her demeanor. His sharp eyes noticed how her usual bubbly chatter had quieted down, how she glanced at the screen but didn’t engage as much as she normally would.

[I am just happy she has them 🥺]

[she doesn’t deserve the hate]

Without a word, he gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, his touch comforting and protective. His gaze met hers in a brief exchange, asking the question without saying a word: Are you okay?

[🥹🥹🥹]

Luna looked up at him and gave a small nod, her lips curving into a soft smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It wasn’t the hate that bothered her, not anymore— it was how people could hold so much anger and vitriol for someone they didn’t even know. Still, she remained quiet, determined not to let the negative comments ruin the mood of the live.

[BAE JIYEON WE LOVE YOU ALWAYS AND FOREVER 💖💖💖]

But Hoshi, ever the observant one, wasn’t about to let it slide. His bright, playful expression faded as he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes scanning the comments section intently.

[ngl his shift in attitude gave me fucking chills]

[Hoshi really went from 🐹 to🐯]

Luna watched out of the corner of her eye as his fingers moved across the screen, quietly and deliberately reporting the hateful messages one by one. Only she and Joshua could see what he was doing, but fans started speculating in the chat as well, noticing the change in his expression and how his focus shifted from conversation to something else entirely.

[HE REALLY SAID “TRY ME BITCH”]

[he was mass reporting the shit out of them hoes]

Then, after a few moments of silence, Hoshi sat back, his face serious, his usually playful tone replaced with something much firmer, more resolute. His voice carried an edge that left no room for argument, yet he wasn’t aggressive— just calm, measured, and unwavering. He addressed the chat directly, his eyes staring straight into the camera.

[HELP— HE IS GENUINELY TERRIFYING ANGRY]

“If you don’t have anything nice to say, then you should just leave,” Hoshi said, his words clear and firm. “This live is for all of us to have fun and spend time together. I won’t tolerate disrespect toward any of my members. If you don’t like it, that’s fine— but I won’t have people being rude. That’s not what SEVENTEEN is about, and that’s not the kind of fans we want. So if you’re here to spread hate, you’re not welcome.”

[SHIT– I… 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️]

[RAWR! THAT’S THE TIGER IN HIM]

He paused, his expression softening just slightly, but his message was unmistakable. “Let’s all just be kind to each other, okay? That’s the kind of energy we need.”

[AMEN TO THAT!]

[YOU LOSERS HEAR HIM?!]

The chat exploded with a mix of reactions. Supportive fans immediately flooded the comments with love for Luna, agreeing with Hoshi’s words and calling out the haters who had been leaving negative comments. But there were still others who continued to protest, claiming they had a right to their opinions, or that they hadn’t said anything wrong.

Through it all, Luna stayed quiet. She occasionally responded to a few positive comments, forcing a smile here and there, but her heart wasn’t in it. Joshua and Hoshi tried their best to lighten the mood, playfully nudging her to join the conversation, but the damage had already been done— not because she was hurt by the hate, but because it confused her.

How could people carry so much anger, so much spite, for someone they didn’t even know? It was a question she couldn’t answer and one that weighed on her more than the comments themselves.

[she looked sad the entire time]

[I’m so sorry, baby 🥺]

As the live continued, the mood eventually lightened again, thanks to Hoshi’s relentless energy and Joshua’s calm, steady presence. But for Luna, the evening felt a little heavier, her mind drifting back to the reality of her position as SEVENTEEN's only female member. She would never let the hate break her, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t exhausting.

“BAE JIYEON MARRY ME!”

The air was buzzing with excitement inside the venue as fans eagerly waited for the fan sign event to begin. The members of SEVENTEEN sat in a line, comfortably seated behind a long table on the stage, each with their markers in hand, ready to greet their Carats up close. The stage lights cast a soft glow over the group as they casually chatted amongst themselves, waving occasionally to the fans in the audience, who were waiting for their turn.

Luna, seated between Joshua and Minghao, was twirling her marker absentmindedly, her attention drifting between the other members' conversations and the distant murmur of the crowd. The relaxed energy around her was something she always cherished at fan signs— a rare chance to connect with the fans on a more personal level.

[I HAVE SAID IT ONCE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN… SHE IS BEAUTIFUL… AND SMOKING HOT 😍🥵]

But just as Luna was about to engage in a conversation with Minghao, a loud, booming voice from the audience broke through the steady hum of the crowd.

“BAE JIYEON, MARRY ME!”

[Honestly… valid]

The sudden, bold declaration reverberated across the room, sending ripples of surprise and laughter through the fans. Luna, completely caught off guard, froze mid-spin, her eyes widening as she looked up toward the sea of fans. Her heart jumped in her chest, not from the proposal itself, but from the unexpected shock of it all.

[She’s adorable]

[She’s also concerned]

A chorus of laughter and amused giggles rose from the audience. Luna, still recovering from the jolt of surprise, reached for the mic in front of her, her lips curving into an amused smile.

She was about to reply, maybe tease the fan back, but before she could even bring the mic to her lips, the response came— not from her, but from the thirteen members seated beside her.

[And there they go…]

A resounding, collective, and very loud “NO!” erupted from her bandmates. The word shot across the room in unison, like a protective shield around her, each member adding their own flair to the rejection.

[THEY CRACK ME TF UP 😂]

Seungcheol was the first to react, playfully crossing his arms over his chest and giving a mock glare toward the fan as he leaned back in his seat. “Absolutely not,” he added, shaking his head as if to cement the point.

Dino and Jun, sitting a few seats down, followed suit, their arms shooting up into the air in exaggerated protest. “No, no, no!” They chanted, shaking their fingers dramatically, their expression both comical and stern.

Hoshi, always one to escalate things, leaned forward in his chair, his voice loud and booming as he pointed into the audience. “You’ve got some nerve!” he said playfully, though his eyes sparkled with mischief. “Jiyeon’s not going anywhere, you hear me?”

The fans roared with laughter, thoroughly entertained by the group’s immediate and united defense. Even Woozi, known for his quieter reactions, shook his head silently, his lips forming a firm, resolute “no” as he glanced down the line at Luna, his protective instincts subtly showing.

Mingyu, seated at the far end, leaned into his mic. “Good try, though,” he deadpanned, earning another round of chuckles from the audience.

[MENACES]

Luna couldn’t help but laugh, her shoulders shaking as the members continued their playful scolding. It was a chaotic chorus of no’s, some loud and exaggerated, others quiet but firm. The overwhelming display of protection from her members warmed her heart, and she could see the amusement spreading among the fans as well.

[JIYEON JUST SAT THERE LIKE: “YUP 😇”]

Even the fan who had shouted the proposal was laughing along, clearly enjoying the playful banter his boldness had sparked.

As the ruckus continued, Luna finally leaned back in her chair, shaking her head with a grin. The mic still rested in her hand, but there wasn’t much for her to say— her bandmates had already spoken loud and clear.

Then, amidst the fading echoes of laughter, Jeonghan, who had remained relatively quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up. His voice was calm and smooth as he brought his mic to his lips, his usual playful smirk replaced with something more composed.

“Sorry, but that question is sensitive for us,” he said nonchalantly, though there was a glint in his eyes that made it clear there was more truth to his words than his tone let on.

[Translation: “Only I get to ask her to marry me.”]

The laughter in the room softened, and for a split second, a quiet fell over the stage as Luna and the rest of the members registered the weight behind Jeonghan’s words. It was a joke, of course, but Luna knew Jeonghan better than most— and she could tell he was serious.

He always was when it came to her.

Luna’s laughter faded into a softer smile, a silent understanding passing between her and Jeonghan as their eyes briefly met across the table. He gave her a small, reassuring nod, and she returned it, appreciating the subtle way he always looked out for her. Even in moments like this, where the line between playfulness and sincerity blurred, Jeonghan’s protectiveness always shone through.

[STOP FLIRTING WITH MOM, DAD!]

The fans, blissfully unaware of the deeper meaning behind his words, erupted into laughter once again, the lighthearted atmosphere quickly returning. Luna, feeling the warmth of her members’ care, picked up the mic at last and shook her head, addressing the original fan who had proposed.

“I think you got your answer,” she said with a teasing smile, the laughter in her voice unmistakable.

[Translation: “Only Yoon Jeonghan gets to marry me.”]

The fans cheered, and the rest of the members continued to playfully banter as the fan sign officially began. But throughout the rest of the event, Luna couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the family she had in SEVENTEEN— their protectiveness, their loyalty, and their unwavering support. It wasn’t always easy being the only female member, but in moments like this, she knew she wasn’t alone.

And there you have it, folks! Just a small glimpse into SEVENTEEN’s ultimate protective instincts when it comes to their one and only Luna. I mean, if you ever had any doubts about how loved this girl is, well… think again.

Thirteen men— yes, thirteen— willing to risk it all, fight the world, and probably even dive into traffic if it meant keeping her safe. So, a quick reminder to all: Never— and I mean NEVER— mess with Bae Jiyeon unless you want these maniacs after you.

But hey, can you really blame them? Luna’s got their backs, and they’ve got hers. It’s a whole family thing at this point.

Thanks for watching! Don’t forget to comment on more wholesome SEVENTEEN content you want to see next! See you next time— unless you’re out there trying to propose to Luna… in which case… good luck with that!”

comments…

@/lunababybae • 10 months ago ╰ Luna’s sasaeng attack pisses me off but angry and protective Cheol makes up for it 🥵

@/mimilyemily • 10 months ago ╰ DID YOU SEE HOW FAST CHOI SEUNGCHEOL AND JEON WONWOO REACTED AT 1:00 GOOD LORD

@/gyusshadow • 10 months ago ╰ OUR LEADER SCOLDING SECURITY FOR LUNA 🥺 MY MAN RIGHT THERE!!!

@/moonlight_1997 • 10 months ago ╰ Jeonghan caressing Luna’s red arm 1:25 idk if I am to feel soft over him touching her like that or pissed off that her arm is red because of that sasaeng 🙃

@/saythename • 8 months ago ╰ Seokminie zipping Jiyeonie up that quick during Fear is a skill and a hot skill at that!

@/jeonwoowonwoo • 7 months ago ╰ They are all so protective of her, it’s super endearing 💖🥺

@/mrsbaebae • 7 months ago ╰ THE THREE BLOCKS ARE ICONIC!!!

@/jeongnanana • 7 months ago ╰ THESE MEN ARE THE STANDARD WTF!? JUST THE WAY THEY TREAT LUNA IS PROOF ENOUGH 💕🤭

@/gyuuuuudaily • 6 months ago

╰ YOON JEONGHAN DEFENDING LUNA DURING THEIR TRAINEE DAYS IS STILL ONE OF THE BEST STORIES I HAVE EVER HEARD TILL THIS DAY!!!

@/bbbiiibbiii • 5 months ago ╰ That exchange of looks from Luna and Hannie at 19:57 😍😍😍

@/missbitchhhh • 3 months ago ╰ note to self: “How to get Svt to notice you = ask Luna to marry you.”

@/shadowmyshadow• 2 months ago ╰ I have completely erased that Hoshi live from my mind. Seeing Luna sad and quiet like that breaks me 🥺

@/kpppopieaddict • 1 week ago ╰ They are all down bad for her wbk (I am too).

ೃ⁀➷ comment or message me to be added to the tag list :)

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Taglist: @yeoberryx @minminghao @angie-x3 @jennwonwoo @k13endall @heeseungthel0ml @chisskaa @megumi2020 @yoonzzziino @lllucere @smh-anon @yveclipse @randomworker @bunnystrm @iamawkwardandshy @gratefulbunny1 @bmo-bri @syren-ash @megseungmin @multiplums @unlikelysublimekryptonite @night-storm7 @cookiearmy @seokqt @btskzfav

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gutsby · 8 hours

Text

Honor Among Thieves

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Marrying Brooklyn’s most dangerous man was easy. Divorcing him proves to be a bit harder—particularly when you’re pregnant with his child.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Breeding kink. Hurt/Comfort/We-Almost-Just-Died-Sex. Morning sickness. Manslaughter. Brief coerced kissing. Beefy, mob boss Bucky is a possessive expectant father who just wants to make sure he knocked you up properly

Descriptions of violence throughout.

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

Bucky’s words reverberated like a shotgun’s report, skimming across two dozen feet of marble, glass, and stainless steel before reaching your ears on the opposite end of the room. He was standing at the threshold of the kitchen, and your back was turned to him. Lucky thing, too, or else he would’ve seen the smile threatening to tug at both ends of your lips—effectively blowing your cover.

“Really, I don’t have the slightest idea, Barnes,” you told him, and it took everything in you not to laugh. Having just narrowly preserved your composure, you continued, “You keep me locked in this prison all day and expect me not to find ways to entertain myself? Well, this is all it is.”

Like hell it was, you could already hear in Bucky’s head. Feeling him eye you up and down from the archway, take his first steps into the room, loosen his tie, most likely.

“Prison?” You registered a low scoff, and his voice was already so much closer than it’d been five seconds ago.

Your husband was striding as quickly as his smooth, dark, tailored suit would allow, and he was undressing as he walked. You could hear the clothes coming off but pretended not to notice. Instead staring more intently at the crab bisque simmering on the stove before you, you licked the spoon you were holding and hummed a little.

“Yes,” you answered, simply, “Prison.”

Bucky was by your side in no time at all. Up close, he smelled like rosemary, oakmoss, and gunpowder.

“Well, this is news to me,” he said. He dragged out the middle syllables of his words longer than was necessary, likely to make his move sidling up closer to you. The last sound had scarcely died in his throat more than a second or two before you felt an arm loop around your back. A hand coming to rest on your hip, then his voice, again:

“See, I never knew they built ‘prisons’ up in first-class penthouse apartments in Brooklyn. Must be pretty nice.”

Bucky stepped behind you, and you were half-certain the black suit jacket he’d come home wearing was fully removed. Again, you pretended not to see, or care.

“It’s a metaphor, James.” But your voice wavered.

“A metaphor?” Bucky’s head sank into the soft groove between your neck and your shoulder, and he kissed it.

“Yes.”

Your mouth made a sound more akin to a breath than a real, enunciated word, and you knew Bucky felt it too. He sensed this headstrong, no-bullshit façade of yours was sure to come crumbling apart any second, and each new brush of his hands and lips would be making it happen. Knowing this, he wasn’t in a rush to get the rest of his clothes off. He did, however, start to toy with yours.

“Tell me more. Am I really holding you hostage, doll?”

You took a ladle and started to stir, trying to stay cool. Meanwhile, your husband tugged gently on your dress.

“Hostage, housewife, same thing,” you muttered, low.

For once, it was Bucky’s turn to break character, as he laughed. It was short-lived and sweet, and he pressed another kiss to the skin of your neck, as if in apology.

“Right, right. I forgot. You were forced to marry me.”

“Right,” you shook your head, just slightly emboldened by the way you’d made him crack, if only for a moment, “I’m forced to marry you, move into this horrific little shanty in Brooklyn”—gesturing to the multi-million dollar apartment surrounding you both—“and then you leave me here, all by myself, with nothing to do while you go play Godfather with your mobster friends. It’s not fair.”

By the tail end of that last sentence, you and Bucky both were already grinning a little, coming to terms with just how ridiculous it sounded when you phrased it like that. Still, your husband seemed game to keep the bit going.

“Now that’s just not true,” he said, tone all faux offense.

You felt the soft snap of a ribbon coming undone, and in a second realized it was the satin bow holding the back of your dress together. The fabric loosened, and Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, over your front—of course.

“I didn’t leave you ‘by yourself’ at all, doll,” he said, and suddenly, his palms were fanning out, over something, “Gave you this baby to keep you company, didn’t I?”

The ‘something’ he was touching now was your belly. All soft and smooth and protruding out in a perfect little globe beneath your dress, no bigger than when he’d left for work that morning. Bucky treated the bump like it was a novelty all the same—like he was seeing it for the first time and couldn’t believe he was actually the one responsible for making it get like that. It had gotten to be a hobby of his, nearly, just how much he loved watching it grow. He had his fingers splayed out across your tummy virtually every chance he could get, and that didn’t stop whether you were out in public or sharing a moment in the comfort of home; he couldn’t get enough.

Which was why Bucky was right when he’d said you knew exactly what you were doing when he came home that day. You knew just the kind of effect that wearing a tight, white dress while cooking dinner would have on him, and you hoped it would rile him up just like this: with his hands roaming over every inch of your body, making soft, sweet circles along the swell of your belly, and kissing your neck again and again. Biting some, too. Getting so worked up he was all but gnawing at the skin as he drank in your scent and got lost to pure instinct.

If it wasn’t clear that Bucky had had a breeding kink before, you saw it written plain as day across his face every morning and night since he’d first learned you were pregnant. Like all the life force within him was just a byproduct of the knowledge that you were his—and this baby, growing bigger each day, was a mix of you both.

You hated to say it, but fatherhood suited your assassin-trained, mob-heading, bloodlusting husband better than anyone could have predicted in a million years or more.

Presently, Bucky flipped you around and sank to his knees. He slid you over to the counterspace area, away from the stove, and made sure to flip each knob to ‘off’ to make sure there wasn’t a chance you’d get burned. You cast one last look at the crab bisque and knew at once your hard work would have to be put on the back burner for now, because Bucky wasn’t hungry for that.

Still, you kicked a foot in soft, muted protest when you felt him slide his hands up your legs, under your dress, and start to reach for your panties. You let out a breath.

“I spent two hours perfecting the seasoning on that, Barnes,” you chided him, gently and without much admonition in your voice as you pointed to the soup, “You say you want a good little housewife but won’t even leave me un-fucked long enough to try any food I make!”

“And I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky replied, head disappearing beneath your skirt so he could take your underwear off with his teeth instead.

But, much like your reproach, your husband’s strained apology held less than half of its professed sincerity. Your blue cotton panties were discarded in a second, your hips pushed back against the cool white marble behind it, and Bucky, almost too cheekily, brought his head back up from underneath your dress just to steal a quick look at your belly, then up at you. He was smiling.

“Anything you make tastes amazing, honey. Daddy just needs to eat a little something beforehand, that okay?”

He already knew what you’d say. The sweet, shit-eating grin hovering over your lower half knew all that and more. Bucky just loved to tease, taking the hem of your dress between his index and thumb, and rubbing all the more tenderly, murmuring again, ‘That alright with you, pretty girl?’ and ‘My wife likes getting tonguefucked in the kitchen, doesn’t she?’ while his breaths spread over you.

You nodded that you did. Momentarily forgetting the three-course meal you’d had planned for him since early that morning, you let your knees fall limply apart from one another, and Bucky’s broad form filled the space in between. The fabric of your dress was snug, especially so over your belly. Your husband pushed the material up your hips and let it rest just high enough to expose your warmth to him. Angling your hips back the slightest bit, trailing his fingers up your thighs and inside them, gently, Bucky let out a low groan against your body, and you could feel the vibrations of it travel up your spine.

“I really am mean for keeping you here all day, aren’t I?” he teased, sliding the tips of his fingers between your glistening folds and watching you jolt in response.

“So— so mean. Bucky, please.”

Your voice was far more hoarse than circumstances would seem to beget; your husband had just eaten you out that morning. Nevertheless, your hand was trembling as it reached for his head. Your pull was taut and dire. While your fingers threaded in through his hair and your body opened itself more and more for him, you could feel that kind smile, even if you couldn’t see it. Frankly, the swelling of eight-and-a-half months made it difficult to see much of anything below the waist, but Bucky made sure to let you know he was there. By holding your hand, skimming his lips against your skin, starting, just then, to sink his fingers in toward the heat of your body, and softly pulling his face away so he could look up at you.

“Baby?” he breathed.

Your eyes locked with his as he slid two fingers inside you. The stretch alone was enough to put your brain on the fritz, but, fighting the first shockwaves of pleasure:

“Y-Yeah?”

He withdrew. Pressed them back in and let out a grunt.

“I need you to do something for me.”

You couldn’t fathom what that might be, but you nodded anyway. ‘Anything’ was what you managed to choke out.

“And you might not like it, doll.”

Your eyes widened some.

“O— O-Okay, what?”

Bucky’s fingers curled inside you, and a short, sharp streak of dizzying pleasure pulsed through your body. Your knees felt weak, and your mind even worse, but with what little resolve you had left, you were able to keep your eyes entirely open and fastened to his. A look that struck you as almost bittersweet crossed your husband’s features, and you saw his gaze soften again.

“I need you to wake up,” he said, calmly.

“What?”

Your toes curled tight underneath you, and the warmth between your legs leapt up to over a thousand degrees.

“Melaya, I need you to wake up.”

At the same time, your blood ran cold in your veins. Surely, you couldn’t be hearing him right if the voice he used was so gruff and low—and laden with a Russian lilt.

“Bucky? What— What do you mean?”

But you knew. Or suspected something of it anyway.

Now the sound from your own throat was hardly one that you recognized as yours, so shrill and high and strange—what could he mean by that? Why was he watching you in that way? Your husband wasn’t smiling so brightly anymore, and the once-gratifying conflagration between your legs had grown to an almost scorching degree, no longer nice, generous, or pleasurable in the slightest.

“We need you to wake up now, honey. Right now.”

His tone, too, was distorted. Grating.

“Bucky, I-I don’t underst—”

“WAKE UP!”

Natasha shook you hard, and it hurt.

She didn’t mean for it to. She just needed you up and out of bed, and you’d been asleep for almost fourteen hours.

You started at the fifth or sixth shake, nearly punching yourself in the face when you tried yanking a set of covers up and over your head and discovered, shortly, that there was none. You were splayed out on a bed in an as-yet unfamiliar home—Steve’s new place—and, while you slept, you’d kicked all of the blankets you’d been given the night before off your body and onto the floor.

Your eyes were wide as saucers as they darted to Nat’s.

There was no need to say what had happened—she knew these dreams were getting worse by the day.

It’d been a week since you fled your Brooklyn apartment in an all-out terror. A week since a senseless, short-sighted idea on your part had led to the discovery that your husband was once part of a HYDRA sleeper cell whose activation phrase turned him into an agent of total destruction at will. A week since you’d seen a half dozen bodies litter your living room floor, more still being bludgeoned by the so-called ‘Winter Soldier,’ as Bucky had formerly been known. A week since you’d sobbed in Natasha’s arms and begged her not to let you go back. A week since you’d been obliged to hide out in Steve Rogers’ new bachelor pad upstate, because, frankly, there was nowhere else you could safely live until this whole ordeal with Bucky was settled—if it ever would be.

A full week since you’d learned you were pregnant, too.

As far as you knew, your husband was wholly unaware of this fact, and of Steve’s most recent real estate purchase up in Buffalo, and you’d been existing in a semi-serene and largely dissociated state for the past seven days.

Your gaze adjusted to the light, and you blinked up at Nat, feeling damp in just about every place on your body. You looked down and found yourself drenched in sweat.

“Hydrate. Please.”

It wasn’t so much a request as it was a standing order: Nat holding out a glass of water and instructing you to drink. Though your first instinct was to make a face and shake your head—you’d found that any new fluids in your body this early in the morning would only get thrown back up when you made your first frantic trip to the toilet—you accepted it anyway. You drank three big gulps to appease the woman standing next to the bed, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled

“I’m gonna go puke now,” you said.

“Aim for inside the toilet bowl if you can,” Steve called out from the doorway. By the look on his face, you’d been doing a pretty shit job of aiming vomit lately.

“My bad, Rogers.”

You had a hand on your stomach, slowly easing back up into a seated position, when you heard something being flung across the room, followed by a ‘HEY!’ and a crash.

“Your aim sucks, too, Romanoff,” Steve griped, loudly, “And I was kidding. She can puke wherever she wants.”

By the door, a hefty hardcover book lay open on the floor. Apparently Nat’s options for projectiles had been limited.

“All good, Rogers,” you offered anyway. Fighting a smirk.

You were starting to stand, and your head felt as if you’d just taken your first steps off a rocking boat. Your other hand jumped to your mouth, and you muttered, ‘Fuck’ before brushing past Nat and her outstretched arms.

She held your hair while Steve retrieved the glass of water, as well as a towel. The unsightly first trimester ritual proceeded as it had for all of the last week, with Nat rubbing circles in your back and Steve making well-meaning but completely useless live commentary like, ‘Babies are a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?’ At the conclusion of each new stupid remark, Natasha would shoot a dirty look his way, but you never let her shoo him away. Through no conscious choice of your own, Steve had become something of a comfort blanket over the course of the past chaotic days. At the very least, you two were no longer at each other’s throats flinging accusations and exorbitantly-priced tumblers in the other’s direction, which was a marked improvement from where you were the day after you and Bucky’s wedding.

At length, you lifted your head from the toilet, and he daubed at your cheek with the towel—mostly just trying to wipe off spit and your own queasy-looking expression. He succeeded in clearing away just the former, but you forced a smile all the same, then shared it with Natasha.

Nat couldn’t smile back. In fact, the grimace on her face only etched even deeper, and her forehead creased.

“This is a horrible time to be asking you this, I know—”

“Nat, please.” Steve groaned.

Nat, what? There wasn’t a lot more that could catch you off guard after all the shit you’d come to see that week. Still, Nat’s breaths were both measured and slow, and you could see she was chewing on the inside of her cheek like she wasn’t quite sure how best to phrase her words. This, coming from one of the most astute legal minds this side of the Hudson River, gave you pause.

“Ask anything. I’m pretty numb, if you haven’t noticed.” You rapped on the side of your head for comedic effect, but neither Natasha nor Steve laughed or cracked a grin.

“How do you feel about filing for divorce tomorrow?”

At the sound of Nat’s words, you felt the bile jump back up your throat. You knew there wasn’t enough food or fluid to make much of anything now, but all the same, you craned your neck back over the toilet and retched. When nothing came out, as expected, you turned back.

“What?”

Natasha looked a little ill herself, but still, she continued.

“How do you feel about just…fast-tracking a divorce from him and taking off new? We’ll talk assets later.”

Assets? Fast-track? Divorce? What the fuck?

“What the fuck, Nat?” you repeated as much out loud.

It normally wasn’t your thing to be so blunt with her, but the inquiry certainly seemed to invite some extra candor. You swiped at your mouth for any excess spit that might’ve trickled out, crudely, and in a second, Steve was handing you the towel. Then helping you to your feet, holding your arm and lower back in a grip you could feel was secure. You were unsteady on your legs, so he and Natasha guided you over to the sink, where you could regain your bearings and freshen up a bit. Sneaking a look at your reflection in the mirror was a bad idea; your face was sallow, and the rest of your body had every appearance of being horribly weak, for lack of a better word. You caught a glimpse of a gash sitting just above your left temple and immediately looked away. Stupidly, you hoped Steve and Nat hadn’t seen it.

“He did that to you,” Nat said without missing a beat.

You winced, and you washed your hands, not looking up.

“I thought you said it wasn’t him. Soldat, you told me.” And for a second, your eyes flickered to Steve, whose expression was a touch more sympathetic, if not visibly discomfited now. Like he didn’t want to speak for once.

He did, anyway: “Doesn’t matter if it was Winter or him, really. Point is he hurt you while trying to protect y—”

“And yet, you asked me to forgive him just last week for killing my dad in the same type of rage,” you replied, and instantly regretted the accusatory tone you’d taken on.

Your anger was misdirected at Steve. It wasn’t his fault for sharing the truth about your husband’s—his best friend’s—past when you’d asked him. These were queries you’d made, helping to form justifications for your own decision to stay after what had happened in Madripoor. Obviously, Steve would be biased to help support his friend in a time of need. But now things were different; Bucky had never been activated as soldat and ended up hurting someone he’d loved before. Steve was free to change his mind after seeing that happen and urge you to leave, or at least reconsider, your marriage to Bucky.

The second look you gave him attempted to convey as much, a bit more apologetic as he and Natasha led the way out of the bathroom. Steve smiled and held your arm again, though you probably didn’t need it. You walked downstairs to the kitchen together. Over by the toaster, Sam was inspecting a charred bagel with a scowl

“Rogers, you really need to ditch this shit,” he said, gesturing to the rusted metal contraption that appeared to be from 1918, and had just burnt two bagels to a crisp.

“It was a gift from a friend, piss off,” Steve replied, grinning a little. Reaching for the blackened bread roll and even going so far as to take a bite, crunching loudly.

“Did your friend happen to fight in World War II?” Nat asked. She lent one look to the archaic machine but said nothing further, opting instead to take a seat at the kitchen table, where a sea of papers was strewn about.

Then, to you, “Come. Sit.”

Somewhere in your tentative stroll from where you stood to where she sat, and in the middle of the men’s toaster bickering, Sam called out that he’d have bacon and eggs ready in a second. Steve offered up his singed sesame bagel in the interim, and you told him no thanks. With a still slightly throbbing skull and a nauseous gait, you took the chair next to Nat’s and looked down at her papers.

Honestly, you thought your present condition might warrant some leeway when it came to holding off on the heavy-hitting topics first thing, but, to your surprise, Natasha slid a crisp white packet over almost instantly.

“Nat, what the fuck?” you groaned for the second time.

“Read it. Give it a second to digest, then we can—”

“No!” you cut in, pushing the packet back to her with a little more force than you’d meant, “I-I can’t. Not now.”

On the very first page, in bold and capitalized typeface, there was printed a brief string of words you’d never wanted—or thought you would ever need—to see:

‘VERIFIED COMPLAINT: ACTION FOR DIVORCE’

“It’s just the petition. No harm in taking a look,” Nat said.

You could hear a faintly gentler tone in her voice, even as you shook your head and looked away from the papers.

“I don’t want to. I can’t do this right now.” You kept shaking your head for a couple seconds after, turning your gaze instead to the bay window of Steve’s kitchen.

A nice, sprawling yard stretched as far as you could see. In the distance, a fuzzy white horizon was punctuated the slightest bit by the outline of a wood fence, but apart from that, the land was empty. The lot was secluded. Happy and effervescent in a nearly cloudless sky, the midmorning sun cast its rays without so much as the threat of a storm’s hinderance. You fixed your eyes on the clear expanse above and silently wished it would rain.

Before more than a minute or two had passed like that, Sam was approaching the table with two platters. Steve balanced four more by himself, watching the sway of one plate of scrambled eggs in his arms with a wary look before setting each one of the dishes on the table.

“Bon appétit,” Steve said, butchering his French just about as badly as Sam had the bagels. You and Nat thanked them both anyway and started clearing off the table, pushing papers away in favor of steaming plates. Sam and Steve sat down, and all of you began to eat.

While you dutifully piled on each scoop of eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, gravy, and grits—far more than you knew you could feasibly consume—you wished again for a rainstorm, and maybe a quiet breakfast. One that wasn’t marred by talks of legal separation and lengthy battles in court, if you could help it at all. To this end, and perhaps against your body’s best interest, you shoveled two supersized spoonfuls of egg in your mouth, so that if Nat tried reviving those subjects again, you could put off the conversation by simply continuing to chew. You felt your stomach turn inside you but, stubbornly, ate more.

You had just swallowed it all, about to make way for a warm, flaky buttermilk biscuit, when a sound cut in, and your belly flipped again. Your teeth had barely sunk into the bread a second when Nat set her own food aside, then used two fingers to push something toward you.

“Just skim it. Let me explain what the process can be,” she said, tapping her index on the first line and meeting your eyes as if to plead. She had to have known she’d be met with resistance—from you, of course, but also Steve. She raised a defensive hand to him before he even cut in:

“Come the fuck on, Nat. Will you give her a break?”

“I’m saying this for her sake! I’m doing it for her.”

“And throwing divorce papers in her face over breakfast is really the best way of going about it? Is that for her?”

Sam swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, glanced down at the top paper, and seemed to brace himself.

“Guys, is now really the right time—” he started.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Steve barked over him.

Natasha ignored the plainly disdainful look from the latter, lifted her hand off the paperwork and instead trained her gaze solely on you. Just like she had in Zurich. Focusing intently on your face, ignoring whatever Steve or Sam were saying in the moment, she turned to you and found your expression was stale. Unmoving. Frankly, half of what was running through your mind right then was how badly you wanted to puke again. As if the eggs had turned rotten in your gut the second they reached their destination in your GI tract, you felt a heavy, oppressive fog of nausea taking shape between your ears, and you just wanted everyone to stop talking.

Sam and Steve continued on without a hitch, agreeing vaguely but also appearing to bicker over other things, like when was the most appropriate time to have this conversation. Natasha was leaning in, reaching for your hand this time, and you knew she meant well. You would bet any large sum of money there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body, and she was doing this for your benefit. All the same, you were grateful when the front door swung back on its hinges, and a new person walked in. Nat, Sam, and Steve all suspended their conversations.

“Hey, wh—” the blissfully unaware, semi-stranger began.

“Sharon!” Steve cried, “Would you tell Romanoff she’s being a goddamn pest with no sense of boundaries?”

Sharon halted at the threshold of the house, skating a look between Nat and Steve at first, then Steve and Sam, then just at you. The look didn’t linger for long, and before you knew it, she was setting down a fistful of grocery bags and twisting her mouth into a frown.

“Will you shut up, Steve?” was her only response.

Sam rose from his chair and pointed as if to say, ‘Yeah, that’ before joining her in the foyer to help carry in the Wegmans bags. Natasha leaned back in her chair with a vaguely pleased look, and Steve just rolled his eyes. He slapped his palm overtop the stack of divorce papers still laying before you and, seemingly undeterred, continued,

“Do you think it’s fair for her to force divorce papers on this poor soul—” pointing to you, the poor soul, apparently, “—when it’s been a week since she left?”

Sharon started handing off the frozen stuff first, sliding a box of Stouffer’s across the counter to Sam, who then deposited it in the freezer. These exchanges took place in relatively quick succession, with Sharon only chancing a look toward the kitchen table once or twice as they did.

“I think she should do whatever the hell she wants,” she said, “And I think their divorce is none of our business.”

Fair enough take. One that you could respect, at the very least, even if you weren’t certain she particularly cared for you at all. You reckoned she had no reason to, and on the whole, appeared to be a pretty reserved person.

You wanted to add a word in her defense, reiterate to Steve that he didn’t have to go to bat for you, the poor, defenseless soul, right now. Instead of being able to speak, though, you felt an upsurge of something heavy in your throat. You clamped a hand to your mouth again, cheeks flushing with the heady sensation and also out of embarrassment, then pushed your chair back and stood.

“I— gotta—” you stammered, just audible to the table, through the wall your fingers had made over your lips.

You sprinted up the stairs without another word.

The first trimester ritual repeated, and ten minutes later, you re-emerged from the bathroom feeling two big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs lighter and still none the happier, healthier, or wiser. You took a peek in the full-length mirror at the other end of the room and discerned from a distance of ten feet that you looked like dogshit.

You flopped down on the bed face-first, heedless of the pool of sweat that still encompassed roughly half of it, and let out a weak, muffled breath into the sheets. Someone had been gracious enough to replace all the blankets and pillows you’d kicked off last night. When you heard a knock on the door, it sounded a lot like Nat’s.

You rolled to the side, eyes screwed shut in frustration.

“If you’ve come to tell me my marriage is a fucking dumpsterfire, I agree completely, Natasha. I’m dumb.”

A little huff of a half-laugh sounded from the doorway. You opened your eyes and saw Sharon standing there.

Up close, she looked a little paler than you’d remembered seeing her last in Switzerland. Soft beads of perspiration dotted her neckline from what had likely been a hot and arduous journey walking up the driveway with all the food, and presently, she seemed tired. She wore a simple gingham blouse that had her eyes shining with vibrance, though, and both hands, you noticed, were full—she had a mug in one and a spoon in the other. She smiled kindly.

“The mob tends to have that effect,” she said, strolling in. Setting the mug on the nightstand and easing the spoon into it, stirring, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

You had no idea what all she knew about your marriage. You weren’t so sure you could extricate yourself from all the blame of having the thing go up in flames in four short weeks. Nevertheless, you smiled back and offered up something good-humored in return, like, well, I’m not exactly winning wife of the fucking year anytime soon.

Again, Sharon chuckled. It was small. She leaned back against the nearest armchair and, pointing to the cup she’d left to rest on the nightstand, said in a soft voice,

“Give that a minute. It’s hot.”

You glanced over and saw a little string that you guessed was attached to a teabag sitting at the bottom of the mug. The drink smelled like chamomile, maybe. You sat up, readjusted your pyjama top, then slid your socked feet underneath you so you could scoot closer to the edge of the bed. On a deeper inhale, you decided the tea was definitely chamomile. And too hot, as Sharon said.

“Thank you,” you told her.

“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” she replied. Letting out that funny little chuckle of hers—one too low to be considered a full laugh, but very close—and then, seeming to realize what she said might’ve sounded off, “Like— I heard what happened with Schröder. Him trying to drug you after the wedding and all…that. I— I’m sorry.”

Bad time to be making jokes, she appeared to chastise herself, but you just nodded along with the faintest grin.

“It’s OK. I’d pay money to be knocked the fuck out now.”

You grinned bigger, and she smiled too.

“It should make you sleepier, if you wanted to nap.”

You replied that you would, in fact, love to be unconscious right now if it meant not having to put up with all this bullshit morning sickness, and you slowly reached for the mug. Sharon stood up, and while you took your first sips, she fluffed the pillows behind you.

She was right. The tea felt like a hug. You settled under the covers and brought the cup to your lips once more, taking two big draughts before setting the drink aside. Yeah, that shit’ll put you right out, no drugs needed. You sank even further under the sheets and watched Sharon hover between the bed and the doorway, looking around as if trying to find something to do—some way to make herself feel more useful, if you had to guess from the pensive look in her eyes. Finally, she settled closer to the door and gave you one, fairly sanguine look. The warmth of your drink had already begun to nestle inside your weary bones, and your eyelids felt heavier. Still, you tried to return the sunny look before getting fully settled.

“Thanks again, Sharon. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She started to leave. In fact, she’d already made it three-fourths out of the room when something stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to you, and you looked up.

“This…probably doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from me, but—whatever you decide to do with Bucky…is okay. We’ll support you, whether you choose to raise this baby with him or do…whatever it is you want to do. Don’t let Nat or Steve or Sam or anybody tell you differently. It’s your choice, y’know, whether you wanna stay married…”

Sharon trailed off, and somewhere inside, you could tell she meant to finish with words like, ‘…even if you didn’t get to make the choice to get married in the first place.’ You appreciated it. You beamed with just your head poking out from over the covers and thanked her again.

And, before she left, for the second time, she stopped. She walked over to the nightstand and bent slightly at the waist, just enough to set something small down. You turned to the side and saw a vial—a minuscule tube—on the surface. Your eyes widened, realizing what it was.

“Sam picked it up in Madripoor. He said Steve had given this to you…to, uh, give to Schröder, and I thought you should have it back,” she said, pausing, “Just in case.”

You eyed the little vial of poison on the nightstand and nodded, still not completely understanding. Your head throbbed, your stomach was still turning, churning. Your brain was about ten blinks away from logging off entirely and drifting to sleep. All you could do, then, was repeat what Sharon had said as you exchanged one final look.

“Just in case.”

Your eyes closed, and you fell asleep very soon after.

You couldn’t have been out for more than an hour; you were sure of it. However, the next time you glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, you saw it read 11:04.

P.M.

Shit.

SHIT.

That chamomille tea was no fucking joke.

Just as your thoughts drifted back to Sharon, the conversation you’d shared, the drink she’d given you, the poison she’d left behind for you to keep, you heard her voice all over again—and now, not just in your own head.

Presently, she was standing over your bed again, though the room was much darker this time around. She pressed a finger to her lips, hey, please, please, be quiet, alright? At first you wanted to make a sharp and strangled sound. A cry for help? You weren’t sure. Didn’t know. Couldn’t see very much of the woman at all, except for the outline of her face from the moonlight streaming in through the window. She stared and ‘shh’ed’ some more.

And you were contemplating yelling out a loud obscenity in response to it when next she cut in, markedly gentler:

“Keep it quick. Nat and the guys will be back in thirty.”

You blinked hard into the darkness and waited for your vision, or else your still-missing voice, to return. It didn’t. You just stared back, eyelids going up and down and up and down like a goddamn idiot gone sluggish off one too many Quaaludes, and it was several seconds more before she gestured behind her, into the shadows.

You tensed under the covers, chock-full of terror. You squinted, and shrank, and might’ve nearly pissed yourself were it not for the intervening force of a face.

A familiar face.

Bucky’s face.

You leapt up from the bed, displacing each one of Sharon’s cool and careful warnings from your mind all at once. You didn’t mean to, and as soon as she’d shushed you again, you shut your mouth. Fell still. Sharon slipped out of the room, reminding you both, again, that you had to be quiet, and you had to be quick. Then it was just you and Bucky. Silence and slightly less than five feet of space between you two. Then, shortly, no space to spare at all, as you ran to meet each for a hug a second later.

Your head struck his chest, and it was hard. That, alongside the python’s squeeze he wrapped around your body, hugging you to him in the tightest embrace imaginable, had your mind reeling, skull pulsing just a bit. You pulled back and stood smiling up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide, drinking the sight of you in.

‘Are you hurt?’ were his first words.

You shook your head that you weren’t, still unable to talk.

“Why are you— Who— who brought you— I didn’t—”

It seemed Bucky was equally hard-pressed to form a sentence himself, while his eyes were roaming wildly, all over you. Looking for bumps or bruises or cuts, whatever the wound might have been. He stumbled to the lamp and flicked it on. You tilted your head left, reflexively.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said. Sudden and swift, “I’m good.”

But you didn’t move your head too far to the right, either, for fear he might see the cut above your temple—the one soldat had caused when he’d pushed you to the floor, trying to protect you from a threat he couldn’t see.

As it was, your husband seemed to be too much in shock to see anything else apart from what stood immediately in front of him. He hugged you again. He kissed the crown of your head. He constricted your body so tight in his arms you felt a pressure start to build behind your eyes, and suddenly you weren’t so much pulling away as you were wrenching your body from him. When you met Bucky’s gaze again, the sweet blue irises were glossy.

“Nat wouldn’t say where you were, just that you were safe and needed to be…be alone for a while, but I—” He stopped, and it was as if he couldn’t even finish with the words, because his breath was stuck in his throat and his eyes were stinging too much. He looked down, briefly.

You wanted to reach for his hand but hesitated. He took yours a second later, holding extra tight as he continued:

“I thought I’d— thought you might’ve…left. I don’t know. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and then she— Sharon, she called me tonight, said you were here, so— so—”

You felt a pang of guilt holding his gaze, seeing how all the hurt that had come to accumulate behind those eyes over the last week went spilling, at length, into emotions he was either too overcome or sleep-deprived to express. The weight of this suffocated him, made him extra quick to speak his mind but slow to make sense of just about anything that was coming out of his mouth. He stopped, sucked in a breath, then pinched your hand in his, and you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea what to say.

“I was scared, Bucky.”

It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth. Your husband nodded as though you’d just said the most profound thing in the world. His knuckles went white from just how hard he was gripping your hand, his head bobbed along in agreement, and for a moment, you winced to think that he might hug you again. Instead, the fingers tangled between yours just made a tighter knot.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.

“You scared me,” you added, voice wavering.

Your left hand was going numb. You didn’t want to give him pause—possibly hurt his feelings—by freeing your touch from his, but that grip was brutal. Deathly rigid and unforgiving. Thoughts of Brooklyn and Madripoor came flooding back; Bucky was so much stronger than he realized. His tone, in contrast, was dulcet and soft.

“I didn’t know I’d get like that. I should’ve told you, doll.”

“I shouldn’t have tried the activation in the first place.”

You shouldn’t have tried digging into Bucky’s past all. When all there seemed to be at every turn was a brand new way for him to hurt you, or the people you loved, maybe there came a time when you had to stop asking questions altogether. Maybe that was what his mother and all the women who’d gone before her had known to do, what you had been too stupid to see all along. There was no knowing these men at all, only taking them as they were and learning to cope with what they became.

Bucky shook his head.

“No, doll, it’s not on you,” he murmured low. Still forceful

Thankfully, he released your hand to cup your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. You felt your pulse in your palm, throbbing from where he’d held it. When he let go the second time, his expression was considerably softer.

“Listen, I’ll take you home, we can talk things over. As long as I know you’re safe, it doesn’t have to— to—”

Hey. He was already halfway toward the door before he realized you weren’t following him. He turned and gestured forward. He beckoned you, brows drawing in.

“Baby? C’mon.”

You didn’t budge.

Your feet were rooted in place, as though cemented to the floor. No matter how much you wanted to appease him, go along with whatever he asked, you couldn’t. You shook your head, and Bucky tilted his own, confused.

“Baby?”

“I’m leaving, Bucky.”

You couldn’t hear your own words slipping out between your teeth, only the blood rushing through your ears. Bucky stopped and turned to face you completely.

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“What— what do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?”

“I want a divorce.”

That part you did hear yourself. You wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t seen the light break off from Bucky’s eyes, expression going limp the instant your words registered with him. You nearly wished you hadn’t said them at all, seeing just how far his face fell and how hurt he looked by them—but quietly, from somewhere more rational-headed inside yourself, there was a voice reminding the rest of you that it needed to be done. You couldn’t keep pretending like this wasn’t what had had to come next. What you’d been skirting with Nat all day and hadn’t been able to bring yourself to admit before now.

Your husband still didn’t seem to be computing it fully. He walked closer to you, and his gait was unsteady.

“Divorce?”

Your vision was bleary; you hadn’t even realized tears had begun to brim at your waterline as you watched him.

“It’s what we need, Bucky,” you could barely get it out.

“I don’t,” he shot back, not missing a beat, “I don’t.”

“It’s what I need.”

“You don’t mean that.”

His voice was hoarse, face shifting from lax incredulity to one of a wince—screwed up in a way that said he felt ill. You shook your head but couldn’t look away from him.

“You don’t mean that,” he repeated.

“It’s what I want,” you pressed on, just as sick yourself.

“You said what you wanted was me.” Again, Bucky’s voice splintered, and you could feel the pain in it.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.”

Gritting your teeth, unsure where else to fix your stare on his face but those eyes—while your own betrayed their feelings too easily, fraught with wet, rolling tears—you shouldn’t have been surprised when his went wider.

“What are you talking about?”

The question was short, sharp, and biting, spoken with such haste as might be mistaken for anger, but the eyes softened his look at once. The anguish painting them now as he stared back at you were a proof, beyond a doubt, that it was betrayal, not rage, which steered him. He turned, and it was as if he couldn’t see a thing but you; his elbow clipped the lamp and knocked it over, but still, he just stared. In turn, the ceramic appliance rolled onto its side, toppled the mug and the vial beside it, and all three went crashing to the floor. Bucky didn’t blink.

“Wh—” he started again, but you didn’t hear the rest.

You remembered Sharon. Heard a flash of her last admonition in your head—be quiet, be quick—and without thinking, you fell to your knees. You tried retrieving what pieces of chipped lamp and shattered mug you could, quickly. You spotted the small vial on the floor and shoved it in a pocket. Your hands swept over the broken pieces without any real idea of what you were doing—all except needing to clean Bucky’s mess—and then swiftly, stupidly, you tried picking it up by yourself.

Of course, a shard cut you. The little slit that was left in its wake could have been no wider than a fraction of an inch, but still, it bled. You looked down at the cut, just then starting to sprout red from left to right along the side of your palm, when a new sight crossed your vision. It was fast, too. All but thoughtless in the way it broke in, gripping your hand in his, and yanking you to your feet. Bucky hadn’t seen that you’d cut yourself, it seemed, and, out of instinct, had grabbed your hand to help you up. As before, his grasp was like a vice, and his thumb pressed right inside the lacerated flesh, sending a whole new maelstrom of pain shooting up your wrist and arm. Now, as then, he was heedless of his strength and his sheer, brute force, that he didn’t even see the effect of his grip. He just held on, held you, tighter, tighter, and—

“STOP!” you shrieked.

You shoved him off. Pried his touch off your palm and gripped your forearm in your other hand and pored over the sight, seeing the gash almost doubled in size from just where Bucky’s finger had sunk into the fresh wound. You let out a sharp, muffled cry through lips that tried to stay closed—remembering Sharon again. You shook your head, clenched your jaw, and tore off the other direction.

And when your husband reached out, eyes wide with their own shock and apologies, ‘Baby, fuck, I’m so sorr—’ you threw him off again. With your non-bleeding palm, you thrust your hand against his chest and pushed hard:

“Don’t touch me!”

When he reached for you again, as if by force of habit, you held up a defensive arm and sobbed out, ‘Stop!’

‘Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—don’t fucking touch me.’

You screamed it. You didn’t mean to. Thinking only vaguely of the need to be quiet, and almost entirely on the stabbing pain in your hand, the imprint of Bucky’s touch on your body, and the blood trickling down your forearm, you darted into the bathroom and threw the door closed behind you. You locked it. You meant to.

Twenty minutes might as well have been twenty years in Bucky Barnes’ mind. In a moment like this, following yet another supreme fuck up on his part, he felt powerless. He had had to fight the instinct to barge into the next room over with every fiber of his being, and, making fists by his sides and pacing the floor and hating himself was all that seemed capable of occupying his mind just then.

He’d knocked on the bathroom door at least ten times. He’d been ignored each time, no matter the duration.

He still had your blood on his thumb, and it made him ill.

You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.

While he uncurled his hand from a fist just long enough to stare at the streaks of red stretched over his finger, he heard those words replay over and over again in his head. He’d said it—swore it—himself, and still your blood was turning a cool, dark, dry shade of crimson on his thumb.

This wasn’t how he’d meant for any of this to go. Still, notwithstanding his best intentions, none of it mattered. He’d seen a sincere look of fear in your eyes looking up at him, and nothing in the world would change what he’d done, or who he was. He’d caused you pain tonight, last week—though his memory of that was still so hazy and dark he hardly knew what else had happened, even now—and above all, he’d failed you as a husband, a protector.

You were likely curled up in a ball by the bathroom sink, cowering in fear because of him. The thought sent another tidal wave of nausea thrumming through his skull, a lump in his throat growing larger alongside it, and before he knew what he was doing, Bucky was striding back to the bathroom door. He banged his fist against it.

“Honey?”

No answer.

“Baby, please open the door.”

More silence.

The moment brought to mind a memory from the night you two had been married. How you’d fled to the en-suite bathroom and locked yourself in it; how Bucky had rattled the whole doorframe with the force of his knocks, demanding you come out. He’d hardly known you then. You hardly knew him now. The realization of this made the weight in his throat all the more excruciating as he stood, and, wincing with pain, Bucky kept knocking.

“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.”

Pleading now. His voice was hoarse all over again.

Had he been the slightest bit more desperate and reckless, he might’ve been tempted to muscle through, kick the door in with his boot. But Bucky knew better. He could already guess how much that action would terrify you now, while tending to an injury that he himself had inadvertently made worse. Barreling inside would be neither romantic nor sweet, just sinking what may then be a lethal dose of salt in the deeper, metaphorical wound. He refrained. Instead of continuing to knock, he dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes.

“Please believe me, baby,” he tried again.

He’d said it so quietly he feared you might not hear it. Then, a little bit louder, ‘Please, please believe me.’

No sound to be heard inside but running water.

“You mean everything to me, doll.”

By now, his voice was clogged with pain, teetering on the brink of agony as he rested his hands on the door, and willed you to open it. Say something to him. Anything.

“I’d never mean to hurt you. Not in a million years.”

For a moment, he heard nothing more. Just how desperately he needed to hear a voice in reply could not be overstated. Craving a new sound worse than oxygen in his lungs. At first, when he heard something other than himself nearby, it nearly knocked him back with joy.

A voice right next to his ear, “But you did, didn’t you?”

The joy lasted less than a second.

The voice beside him was low. And close. Not coming from the other side of the bathroom door, as he might’ve reasonably expected from you, and not even in the tone of a female’s voice, as he might’ve seen, were Sharon to have appeared by his side. This new voice was deep, and masculine, and in his ear now, chuckling some as a gloved hand pressed the barrel of a gun to his temple.

Bucky didn’t blink.

You stepped outside not wanting to see him.

The bleeding had long since stopped, thanks to the aid of a cool, damp washcloth and a few minutes’ pressure, but even once it ceased, your legs were reluctant to carry you back. You dreaded the thought of having to resume your conversation with Bucky—of having to look him in the eye and tell him all over again that it wasn’t safe for you to be married to him. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, either. This wasn’t your honeymoon, where you could stay locked in the bathroom, try climbing out a window, and hope for the best like you’d done before. You had the man’s child inside you, for fuck’s sake.

That uncomfortable subject and at least a dozen more were already swarming your brain as you made your way out of the bathroom. You’d taken a few extra squares of toilet paper to press into the cut, were looking down at it with a tense, uncertain gaze as you ventured out, when you were obliged to stop just a few steps into the room.

“Hi, honey.”

It wasn’t Bucky.

Your eyes snapped up to the source of the voice in an instant, and, on seeing you were right—that it wasn’t Bucky but a gaunt, grinning blond with a gun to your husband’s head—you almost screamed at the sight.

You’d wanted to scream, anyway. It would’ve been the sane thing to do, and one that nobody could’ve blamed you for in the moment, you reckoned, but strangely the sound never came. You just stared at the two, eyes wide and jaw slightly more lax as your lips made an ‘o’. Bile jumped up in your throat. You wished it would choke you.

‘Please. Don’t.’ was all you could get out.

Johann Schröder’s smile stretched wider.

“Don’t what?”

The question was clearly meant to be derisive, rhetorical. Still, with your fingers trembling, you tried answering:

“Don’t hurt h—”

“Why?”

You watched the gun sink deeper against your husband’s face, and he flinched. Your stomach clenched inside you.

“Why shouldn’t I hurt him, hon? Seems like he’s gotten pretty damn good at doing it to you,” Schröder sneered.

His words stung. The grin didn’t flinch. And, as if to punctuate his sentence, or else remind your husband that he was tied to a chair and entirely at his mercy now, Schröder struck Bucky in the face with the butt of his gun. If an onlooker hadn’t known better, they might’ve mistaken you for the one who’d been hit, though—at last, you unleashed that scream, and you reached out for Bucky, hands open and pathetic and desperate to help.

“Think it hurt as bad as your hand?” Schröder hummed.

Your feet were stumbling forward, “He didn’t mean—”

Another resounding thud against Bucky’s skull, this time hard enough to split his lip in half. If he’d grimaced in the slightest, you would’ve seen the teeth smeared with blood. But, true to form, James Barnes didn’t wince. He hadn’t even seemed to acknowledge the blow as it landed. Just stared at you and, with eyes as hollow and deadened and faintly pleading as you’d ever seen them before, manifested their silent apology to yours—again.

“Bet he didn’t mean to hurt anyone as the Winter Soldier, either. Still couldn’t have felt too good for all the folks he butchered, though.” At that, Schröder’s sick amusement morphed into a laugh, and he was taking Bucky’s collar in his other hand. Shaking him lightly while he spoke.

“Couldn’t have felt all that great for your dad, I bet.”

The diversion turned to you, all toothy smiles and mocking eyes. He didn’t care. He let you stagger another step toward the two of them, even try to get your hands close to Bucky. But when you’d drawn too close, he stopped you cold. Not thinking much else in the moment, you made a move to push Schröder’s arm away, hard, and were shortly rewarded with a shove of your own. He knocked you sideways onto the bed, and you landed on the hand you’d hurt. Before you could let out so much as a sound yourself, Bucky’s voice tore in:

“Schröder.”

Schröder turned. He raised his Ruger to your husband’s head again, as casually as if he’d asked him for the time.

“Yes?”

“Don’t touch her.”

Schröder turned to you. Though he didn’t move the Ruger again, he did point his finger at your form, haplessly curled into itself amidst the covers and pillows.

“Why? Saving all the rough stuff for later, are we?”

You cowered as his free hand reached for you, and just as your husband’s eyes went wide and a vein nearly tore through his skin from how hard it protruded, you cried,

“What do you want?!”

Schröder stopped. He brought his hand to a halt just south of your thigh—and then he dropped his weight on the bed beside you. He gestured indistinctly, almost disbelievingly, toward Bucky. The latter appeared near-apoplectic, nails raking down either arm of the chair.

“What do I want?” Schröder quipped, incredulous, “What do you want, doll? To stay married to him?”

And you knew he’d intended the question to be hurtful; you knew it by the glint in his eye, the goading tone of voice and the look he’d flitted to Bucky—nondescript and yet saying a world more than words could ever convey. He knew what had gone on between you, had likely heard your last conversation in its entirety, and was now using it against you. Mostly to taunt, then to injure your husband with truths he hadn’t yet uncovered himself.

Schröder’s eyes were shining with sadistic delight as he took your hand in his. He didn’t waste another second.

“No, no, that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”

Ignoring the screech of Bucky’s restraints as he tried to lunge out of his chair. Hearing him curse when he failed.

“—you said you’re leaving him, right?”

Schröder slid the thin, glistening ring off the hand he’d been holding before you could even think to stop him.

“—said you want a divorce, is that it?”

Then his grin got so big and conceited and enlivened by the sight of pain working its way onto Bucky’s face that any good sense you’d had left inside you was abandoned in a blink. You didn’t hesitate, or else try and make a pass to retrieve your ring—you just hit the man in the face.

Your fist was small, and his chin was hard. You knew before you ever threw the punch that it’d probably hurt you more than him, but you did it anyway. It succeeded, at the very least, in catching Schröder by surprise and swiftly pissing him off. Seeing this and feeling a bit bolder, you were somehow able to dodge his hands when he lurched for you again. Inside, your own anger flared.

“Why the fuck do you care?” you spat.

You found momentary respite in the corner of the bed, sliding back against a wall that would only protect you for so long. As soon as Schröder regained his bearings, he had you back in his sights and his grasp just as quick.

He dragged you back. He pulled you up. He dug the tips of his fingers so hard into your side that you thought the flesh might tear in two across your ribs. But it didn’t. Crescent-like indentations did leave their mark in a grisly set of five, though. You felt the sting of it as Schröder loosened his grip, then sucked his next breath through his teeth as if calming himself. Your gaze only hardened.

“I care,” he said, once he’d completed this slow inhale. He replaced his touch by pinching your face in one hand and bringing it up to his, expression more like a snarl. Then, raising the gun to your face in his other hand, “because I made a deal with your father. Remember?”

You did. Your head jerked back by force of instinct, but he held it. From every direction, then, you had nothing to hear but the sound of your own pulse thrumming a fast, panicked tempo in your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth without a drop on your tongue. And, had that deafening fear and revulsion been anything less, you likely would’ve heard something else beneath it all.

Would’ve felt it, if you weren’t already so numb: Schröder’s hand sliding its way down your body, diamond ring still stuck to the tip of his index finger. You sensed it as though seeing yourself from another perspective—watching his hand trail lower, lower, lower until something in Bucky split in two and he bellowed:

“SCHRÖDER—”

He said something more after that; you were sure of it. You just couldn’t hear him, or see him, or discern much of anything else but your own racing heart as the man who’d just beat your husband twice and lifted a gun to your head proceeded to press his touch to your belly. Almost conscientious and gentle as he lowered it.

“Was this part of the deal, too, doll?”

Your eyes widened. Realizing—then feeling fear seize you completely. Forgetting the metal at your temple and shaking your head with a force, but slow enough that your husband wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile, across from you both, Bucky seemed more than sufficiently occupied by his own blinding rage—he spit a glob of blood to the floor and, with his teeth bared again, swore he’d kill him.

Over and over and over again, oaths of taking Schröder’s life and making it gruesome and painful and slow filled your ears, but none of it stuck, for either you or Schröder. Instead, your maniacal captor just smiled, leaning in.

“I said, was this part of the deal, Mrs. Barnes?”

The heel of his palm sank into your stomach, and as the shock of his first words began to fade, a pain replaced it. His hand made an impressive demonstration of flattening and forcing itself so hard against the skin that a flurry of stars cropped up in your eyes, and you cried:

“Stop! I-It wasn’t— just— just stop. Stop.”

“Stop? Was it part of the deal or not?”

Schröder bore down even harder.

“It just happened!” you keened. Unsure why you felt compelled to answer for what had gone on at all—addressing the baby in this awful, oblique way—though reckoning it had something to do with the pressure he was applying to your stomach. You tried to squirm back.

But your stuttering pulse and your pleading gaze and the ache in your stomach proved to be all too much for any real progress to be made. You’d scarcely moved off an inch before he drove his palm deeper, and with the agony of a body about to rupture beneath it, a shriek clawed out of your throat. Your mouth fell open, and for once, you couldn’t curtail the pain, or fear. Schröder’s hand had just forced the noise from your mouth, along with some mindless, broken pleas to stop pushing, it hurts, please, please, when the face above yours only brightened. Schröder’s cruel, snide mouth flashed a smile above you, and before you could whine again—

He kissed you.

It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second.

Still, the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. And felt perverse. So deeply nauseating and unsettling to every last nerve, muscle, tendon, and bone in your body that the response it evoked could be nothing less than visceral. You didn’t need to think at all to shove him off. Whatever might’ve given you pause with a loaded gun to your head was forgotten in a second, and soon enough, you weren’t alone in letting your reproach be known.

It started off with a crack, then a harsh, crude splintering of wood. A violent rift, from what you could hear of it, and when you turned your head, your suspicions were confirmed: Bucky had snapped half the arm of his chair away from the seat, and his right hand was almost freed.

Whatever barrier he faced in being bound more than four times over with rope seemed immaterial to him now. He could strain as hard as he pleased—feel the coarse synthetic fibers dig into his flesh and leave streaks of red, if not break the skin itself—and any pain, as before, hardly appeared to register with your husband at all. He just muscled through it, thrusting his wrist even harder. The whole force of this movement rocked the chair on its legs, and just when you sensed it might collapse beneath his weight, you felt Schröder stand up. The man didn’t need to move too far or do much else other than drop his hold on you and flip his gun to point it at Bucky instead.

Even when he had, though, Bucky didn’t flinch. His hands were in fists and his drive was like a machine’s—he tried forcing his way out of the right hand’s restraints, and the second the wood gave way, he was shoving it off.

Blind to the firearm Schröder was holding, or his words:

“Stay where you are, Barnes.”

Bucky was just then shaking off the rope that had been loosened by the break in the wood, jaw still tight as ever.

“You’ve got three other limbs to free, my friend, just—”

Schröder was still speaking when you saw his finger slip to the trigger, and it seemed to you it was itching to pull.

“James, stop!”

That plea came from you. More of a strangled cry, really—no more pleasant for either man to hear than it was for your throat to shriek. It did, however, stop Bucky cold. Your husband paused just long enough to meet your gaze. And in it, you saw, at least, that he was all there, if not enraged. But not soldat, or anyone else but himself.

You sighed in relief, despite what seeing two red rivers seeping out of Bucky’s mouth might otherwise provoke.

It was him. You might’ve smiled if another hadn’t cut in.

Schröder seized Bucky’s wrist. With it, you saw his hand just as mangled and bloodied as his lips. Knuckles cracked, slit, and soon to be littered with bruises of every shade, he shocked you again by how calmly he took it. Even when Schröder sank a thumb inside a big, gaping crater of a flesh wound he’d found on the back of his hand, your husband didn’t blink; he just looked at you.

‘I’m sorry.’

When the barrel of the gun returned to his head—this time, at the rear, as Schröder had circled back around the half-broken chair and was leaning over him—you could see the apology lodged in his eyes on full display.

“For safekeeping.” The man wielding the gun seemed almost pleased as he dropped your ring inside the breast pocket of your husband’s shirt, before patting it gently:

“Now where were we?”

A beat. Bucky’s right hand twitched beside him, but evidently, he knew better than to move in that moment.

“Right, right—” Schröder pretended to be remembering, tapping steel to Bucky’s skull, “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”

More silence.

You wanted to speak, beg Schröder for mercy, anything.

“Do you know why that is, Bucky?”

But before you could utter even a word of protest, the voice pressed on. Schröder was leaning in his ear.

“—what you did to her?”

The baby. Brooklyn. All the bloodshed that had ensued last week, leaving your husband completely in the dark. Of course, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been himself, and was scarcely more able to control his actions as the Winter Soldier than he could in a dream.

To your horror, Schröder reached down for Bucky’s hand, and, still holding the gun to him with the other, lifted it.

Pointed it.

Pushed it closer to you.

“C’mon, Buck. You don’t want me touching her, right? Why don’t you feel for yourself what she’s been hiding?”

Your blood turned to ice. You’d never felt so immobile—paralyzed—in your life, but seeing the hands drift closer and closer and feeling defenseless to their course, your body went numb. Your limbs grew heavier than lead.

And when you felt the smug, smiling blond guide your husband’s touch toward your head, you understood it all.

You were perched at the edge of the bed a foot away. Schröder was nudging Bucky forward in his chair, urging him to reach out and tilt her chin a little, go on, that’s it. And neither one of you had a choice, so he touched you. His fingers, directed by someone else, were obliged to brush the skin of your chin, your jaw, your cheek, and your brow, before finally settling above your left temple.

Your husband felt the cut—touched the stitches.

You winced, but not from any physical pain. It was Bucky’s face as the tips of his fingers skimmed the wound. The look of chagrin that crossed his eyes. Then bewilderment. Fear, as plain as anyone could see it— was he the cause of that? Had the hurt been from him?

You couldn’t bear to answer him, so you looked away. It was Schröder, again, who had all the power to speak.

“Can’t remember pushing her down?” he said, tone dark, “Making her split her head open on the bedside table because soldat didn’t know his own strength—only that he had to keep her safe—and sensed a threat outside?”

Bucky shook his head. His face was grave.

Schröder kept making him prod the skin.

“It’s bruised here, too. You feel it?”

Your husband did, and you thought it might break him. So tender and forlorn were the eyes, raking over every spot where a touch, his touch, had left you hurt before.

If nothing else could bring you back to your senses, the wounded look in Bucky’s gaze was sure to get it done.

You hardly thought again, just croaked: ‘It’s not his fault.’

Schröder’s hand then descended your neck, your torso.

As if he hadn’t heard you at all—

“You already saw what happened to her hand.”

—and forcing Bucky’s touch lower still.

“But what about here?”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt your husband’s hand come to rest on your stomach.

It was like a fire had ignited in your lower half, and nothing close to the soft, pleasurable kind. Not the flutter felt in anticipation of a touch from your husband, not the desirous sort. In fact, you dreaded it now; seeing Schröder over his shoulder, urging him closer, making him flatten his big, broad, scorching palm over your belly.

What should’ve been the ecstatic scene you’d conjured in your mind at least a hundred times since marrying him—the picture of domestic bliss as you said it, smiling, I’m pregnant—was now nothing short of torture. Choice all but stripped from you here, forced to emerge inside this terrible place, you found yourself needing to shrink back, shake your head, look to Schröder��s stubborn, unyielding gaze and beg him not to make you do this now. Not now.

Not here, with Bucky’s skin a shade of glacial white and his eyes going wide, taking on a look you’d never seen.

“What do you—”

He stared hard at the hand on your belly, but it didn’t last for long. As if realization were trying to seep in, he couldn’t meet it. His eyes flitted back to your face.

“Baby, what’s—” he tried again, stammering.

“—right, that’s it, Mr. Barnes.” That was Schröder.

Satisfied in the suspense of the moment keeping your husband still, he lifted his hand from Bucky’s and snapped, that’s it, and clapped him over the shoulder.

Congratulating him before the truth had even sunk in.

“A baby, that’s right! You’re going to be a father, Buck.”

And how far was the look on Bucky’s face from the one you’d dreamed before. The lips you’d envisioned in a smile now twisting bleakly, parting slightly, and the eyes you’d once hoped to be bright and elated only staring back with rings of red enveloping the irises. Whatever tears formed at his waterline were decidedly not of joy.

Only guilt.

“You did it.”

Desperation.

More moisture in his eyes as his hand started to tremble across your stomach, voice hoarse and soft, “Is it true?”

You didn’t need to nod. You just watched him, let your own eyes fill with the worst, stinging tears you had felt in your life, and from the silence that followed, Bucky knew.

As if the life beneath his palm were something dear, but still too much for him to comprehend, he shook his head. He stroked his thumb over the cotton of your pyjamas and tried inching closer, as much as his restraints would allow him. Then, with words that were audibly strained, but always gentle, he lowered his voice—as if to keep the communication between you two, despite your position:

“I love you.”

His hand was still on your belly as he said it. He reached up to cup your face. Even lower than before, “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry.

That much was evident from every look he’d given you tonight. Every move he made a de facto apology, all actions in the vein of atonement, it couldn’t possibly escape your mind or his that he knew he’d done wrong. It was only a matter of accepting this—maybe coming to terms with the fact that your life wasn’t safe in his hands—for the guilt plaguing Bucky to multiply. Paralyze him.

There was no better time for Schröder to strike. Just as the anguish had flooded Bucky’s face completely, and his hand had had to lower itself from want of strength, a sound split the air. Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that it didn’t even register at first, but the impact was real, and it was harsh: Schröder punched him squarely in the jaw. The next, swift snap was his nasal bone taking a blow, and breaking beneath it. Blood breezed down and into his mouth. Feeling warm, his lips and chin doused in a second, he sensed nothing else. He might’ve groaned.

He caught another swift right hook, and his mind went blank. Nothing of substance threatened to materialize between his ears, save for the rush of blood through and from his skull and the dim recognition of something ugly.

Something horrific.

He couldn’t protect you.

His body was as much an idle waste as it was a danger. Useless now, as he was tied to this chair, and a risk to your well-being even if he weren’t. The hazard was him.

Schröder hit him again, and Bucky realized that the ringing he’d heard in his ears was your screaming.

“I’m doing her a favor,” Schröder spat before shoving him back in the chair, almost knocking it sideways.

The blond advanced with ease. His knuckles were drenched in blood; none of it was his. When he reached for Bucky again, the resistance was slight, and a simple, firm grip on the collar was all that was needed to drag his frame to sit straight. Bucky was barely upright for a second before the next—and worst—blow struck his face. His whole head rang with it, reeling, but still, he could make out the words as they were spoken to him.

“She’ll never be safe with you, Barnes. Never—” and at the last, Schröder lowered his gun. Started to loosen the rope from Bucky’s left arm, “—I could free you now, and you still wouldn’t get within an inch of what you want.”

He nudged the rope away and let it fall to the floor. Bucky lifted his hand, but the effort was in vain. No sooner had a finger of his stirred than Schröder was delivering a kick to the chair and letting it splinter. Topple. Skitter a half-foot across the hardwood floor with Bucky’s ankles still bound to it, before finally, gracelessly, breaking apart.

Bucky was on the floor, blinking through a stream of blood and a sea of muddied thoughts when Schröder kicked the chair again. The rope slackened some more.

“Her own father knew as much, so he made me a deal to take her off of your hands. Settle his debts the way he should’ve done the first time around,” Schröder said, and now his tone was lower. Lethal as it ever was, and stern.

“I know how much you hate to lose your playthings, Buck, but this one’s better off with me, I promise.”

And, as if to emphasize his point, Schröder turned and reached for you. Bucky’s own hands were slow, fumbling in fits and bursts to get the rope unwound from his ankles, but they were determined. He just couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, the ringing to subside, or his brain, in its concussed state, to let him move with a little more agility. He’d been hit too many times. He could barely lift his head off his shoulders and hold it straight, so he was forced to stay where he was, keep at his task, and listen.

“You’re weak when you’re not soldat.”

Using his knuckles, Schröder brushed the blood that was evidently all Bucky’s across your cheek, and you flinched.

“When you make the switch, still…you’re inhuman.”

Then he tilted your head, making you show them both the mutilated, stitched-up flesh above your temple. Again, you tried to slink away, but his touch was firm.

“Don’t you think your bride deserves better than that? Your child? Forced to live in fear of that thing you are?”

Blood coursed down Bucky’s face, and his lips were curled apart in a grimace, mouth hanging slightly ajar. His eyes fixed their look on you. The rope was undone.

He’d just started to try and stand when the edge of his vision blurred. He felt the lacerations in his face pulse as one, and with it, half his sight went skewed to the left. Schröder couldn’t help but crack a smile seeing him stumble, pitch back, and barely catch himself on the bedside table. When he stood, he was mostly hunched.

“Look at you, Buck. You can’t try and save her like this,” Schröder taunted, drawing you closer, “So stop trying.”

The man’s hand was like ice holding your face. The grip grew tighter when he saw your husband limping your way, and before either one of you could move, the index of Schröder’s other hand had slid down to the trigger. He didn’t wait to give another warning before he did it—just pointed the gun and fired one shot over Bucky’s head.

His aim was good. The bullet missed your husband by less than an inch. The gun had gone off by your ear, and immediately, you seized the side of your head as a sharp, searing pain cropped up. Your skull was still ringing when you heard the thing discharge again, and you realized it had been aimed at Bucky’s neck. He’d ventured another step, and Schröder had fired a second round to graze the top of his shoulder. Crimson bloomed through his shirt.

Bucky should’ve stumbled again. He might’ve staggered back with a grunt of pain, lifted a quick, reflexive hand to feel the wound, but the sense of it all was slow to reach him. The moments that passed him were delayed just the same, as if the world around him were distorted—the fibers of time tugged and stretched before his eyes—and he could hardly keep himself straight. When he got another look down the barrel of the gun, he didn’t blink. Couldn’t see, really. It was all misshapen sights and sounds and a dim recognition that his mind was in a fog.

Somewhere from within that mist, he heard, faintly:

“I’ll go— I’ll go— I’ll go with you, I’ll go— just stop.”

Schröder turned to you, and the smile that he wore was cruel, but Bucky wasn’t able to make out the expression.

All he could see then, to the faintest extent, was you—your face, gripped hard in another man’s hand, eyes pleading and wet with tears, and a slightly slack jaw.

“Leave him for me?” Schröder repeated, sneering.

You nodded. Blinked. Rolled your tongue along the inside of your cheek before pulling it back and biting down once. There was a hint of a wince in your eyes, but, from what Bucky could tell, it vanished just as fast as it came.

Your lips parted again. Your eyes widened a little.

“So the girl has some fucking sense.” That was Schröder.

He’d had his weapon re-holstered and your face firmly seized in both of his hands in no more than a second.

What came next surprised no one, though the sensations of disgust and rage were as quick to turn a stomach as the shock would have done. Schröder bent down and, having pulled your face closer to his, kissed you again.

Schröder’s mouth was glistening with a grin and Bucky’s own blood—smeared all over your face from how hard he’d been holding you—when he looked up and turned.

“Sensible and sweet, isn’t she? Tastes like it, too.”

Bucky saw nothing but red. It wasn’t just blood crowding his vision now but violence and rancor and outright hatred, stirring his limbs to start moving again when the rest of his body was plainly too battered to venture an inch in that condition. He staggered again, watched you again, and had made it almost halfway across the room when another sight slowed him, if only for a moment.

Schröder’s lips were back on yours, as if to mock him, but what startled him, really, was the way you’d opened your mouth. You couldn’t mean it. Clearly. Schröder was gripping your jaw, forcing it open—it had to be—and he was coaxing your tongue out from inside and weaving it with his. Once more, time moved like molasses, and that was all your husband had had to see: you kissing him back, gripping his arm through the thick, black tactical gear, and still parting your lips more and more for him. Like you needed a touch, or something, worse than ever.

That stalled Bucky, though he was nowhere close to stopping now. Briefly preoccupied, and seemingly shocked as well that you’d accepted the kiss so eagerly this time, Schröder didn’t see the approach. If he had, he likely would’ve turned and made a move for his Ruger, but as it was, he had only to blink—and there was Bucky.

He hit him with a force that was blinding, directly to the side of his head so hard that he’d had no choice but to separate from you. Schröder was stunned one second and on the floor in the next. Bucky threw him there, kicked him down, and, wavering for only a moment to cock back the shoulder that’d been shot, he ignored the pain and punched the man again. And again. And again.

There was a callousness, an indolence, and an ease with which he was able to inflict the pain, that much was evident. What didn’t seem so natural, at least in Bucky’s mind, was the weight that was in his hands: Schröder’s body felt limp before he’d even landed the second blow.

The pressure grew heavier and heavier in his hands the harder, and more frequently, he delivered each hit, but for now, he didn’t care. Bucky kept on punching until the face beneath him was gnarled and bloody, and his own fist, too, slashed every which way with more cuts than he was able to count. He would’ve kept going—could’ve ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder for as long as it would take to ensure the man was dead—but as it was, he refused to ignore the voice he heard. It was yours.

Muffled now, as your body was bent to the side and your head drooped lower still. Your voice was soft but clear:

“Bucky, please, stop.”

He did.

He dropped the man’s collar from his hands as soon as he’d heard you say it, and he turned away as if nothing had transpired behind him at all. His focus was on you.

“Baby—”

To his surprise, he watched you spit on the floor.

Your face was grim and almost sick, and you spit again.

The look grew even worse, and afterward, you didn’t waste a second more; you stood and left the room.

Bucky was stunned at first, and his instinct had been to follow. Then he heard a rattling sound beside him. He glanced down and paled, seeing Schröder there.

His face had turned blue much sooner than Bucky had expected—and not from any bruising but a lack of oxygen in his lungs. He was choking, foaming slightly at the mouth while he gasped for air. Surely, it hadn’t been the hits that caused it. The whites of Schröder’s eyes were as conspicuous as he’d ever seen them. Desperate.

Bucky swiftly got the sense that the life of his former captor was lost, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to watch him die. He left what remained of Schröder’s form to continue writhing on the floor, choking and sputtering for a breath that would never come, and went after you.

Downstairs, he found you hunched over the kitchen sink—spitting, retching, and trembling, too, but breathing.

You let the water from the faucet fill your mouth, and you rinsed again. You winced as something stuck your cheek.

Bucky drew closer, quickly, and when he was right by your side, he saw you spit a shard of glass into the sink. He looked over to the counter, and he spotted three more

They were minuscule, really. Nothing quite the size to leave a wound too deep, but sharp enough to cut your lips, your tongue, or the insides of your cheeks. When Bucky leaned in, he saw droplets of red joining the flow of the water beneath it. You coughed over and over again

“Don’t,” you croaked, seeing Bucky reach for the glass.

Before he could reply: “It’s the poison. From Madripoor.”

Your husband’s blood went cold in his veins. He didn’t touch the glass, but he did press closer to you, feeling his insides churn as the cogs started to turn in his head.

The vial of poison you’d been given to slip in Schröder’s drink at the Foxy Den—how the hell had you gotten it back? Why would you think you needed it, if he— but no, that couldn’t be the case. There wasn’t a shot you just—

“—put it in your mouth?” Bucky couldn’t curb the fear in his voice. He reached for you and spun you to face him.

“Did it kill him?”

Your eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing; his mouth was dry.

“I didn’t want to kiss him,” you went on, voice shaking a little, “I didn’t— I just— I couldn’t get him the poison any other way. I knew he’d kiss me again, and when he did—”

“I know,” Bucky said. He smoothed the hair from your face, shaking his head. Feeling his stomach clench with fear and dread as he hurried to get a look in your mouth.

You’d snuck the vial inside your cheek, then crushed it between your teeth before Schröder had kissed you. You’d all but forced him to swallow the poison, shoving your tongue down his throat, but what of the stuff that remained? The rough, trembling fingers of Bucky’s hand were trying to pry your lips apart as gently as they could, ensure all the serum was out, but at present, you wouldn’t let him. You pushed back gently, though not too far to prevent your own touch from roaming his shoulder.

“The bullet—” you started.

“Barely nicked me,” Bucky cut in, “Baby, I need to see—”

That you’re safe. That you won’t be hurt in any way. He couldn’t finish the thought himself, having seen what the poison did to Schröder. Instead, he just held you closer and fought the lump that was starting to form in his throat. Adrenaline had worked well enough to clear his mind of the haze, but the rest of him was all high-strung.

Your clothes clung to you both, wet with blood and sweat. Your breaths were fast. Your expressions were feral, eyes no calmer as they scanned over the other’s form and soaked in every trace of what had happened. Bucky in his formalwear and you in something close to a chemise—like your honeymoon night all over again—you each got a glimpse of the gore ornamenting yourselves and let the room fall quiet, if only for a minute or two.

Your husband was the one to break the silence, at length, with cracked and grisly hands sliding down to your hips.

“You’re okay?”

His touch shifted you back in place to sit on the counter.

“I’m alright.”

You wanted to say more; assure him, in a voice as sedate as you could manage, that this wasn’t his fault. Whether he would believe a word of what you said was a separate question, but, at any rate, it didn’t matter. The next thing you knew, Bucky was slotting himself in the space between your legs and pulling you into his arms.

In spite of himself and all the wounds, he held you tight.

“You’re alright,” he repeated.

His face sank into the crook of your neck, and you felt his muscles contract again—pulling you closer—as he drew a shaky breath against your skin. You hugged him back.

“Are you?” Your voice was small.

In a blink, Bucky resurfaced. He lifted his head from your neck and, still holding you, hadn’t seemed to have heard.

“The baby,” he said quickly.

He stepped back. Lowered his gaze and his hands to trail over your hips and near your stomach, and he stared, as if trying to make sense of something dire. His blue eyes were wide, and they assumed such a look of panic that you feared a blood vessel might actually burst in one.

After all the great lengths he’d gone to, ensuring you were safe and taking extra precautions, on the off-chance you might be pregnant, here you were.

And there he went, sliding his touch lower and lower again until his hand was pressed into your belly, and the gaze you’d once thought soft before had all but melted into tenderness—delicacy. Complete, loving unreserve.

When his eyes met yours a second time, they were shiny.

Wet with the only kind of tears you’d want to see in them.

“You’re really…” he started, just to taper off, blinking.

And then his cheeks were dotted with the tiny, round droplets, and he’d finally ventured a smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you couldn’t keep from reaching for him. The second you’d lifted your arms you were back in his, lips and nose smushed against the front of his stained white button-up and breathing deep.

Or trying to, anyway. Bucky had you squeezed so tight to his chest you had nothing but his shirt to inhale at first. You didn’t mind, and when he pulled away a moment later, you realized that your eyes, too, were filling up quick. You had to steel yourself against a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to emerge—the aftermath of a half-dozen traumas laid bare over the last hour—but the longer you were here, and the more your husband stared at you like that, the quicker your courage was depleted. In the span of five seconds, your senses were shot to hell. All you could think was what you could feel, and all you felt was Bucky: his arms and his hands and the raw, blistering heat between your bodies. The rest was noise.

It surprised you both when you kissed him. Physically, your mouth and his were hardly up to do it, injured as they were, but the impulse was strong, and it flowed between you. As soon as your lips latched onto his, Bucky was holding your face, molding his body to yours without so much as a second thought, and the mouth you met was sturdy. Hungry in the way it kissed back.

A string of words from Schröder flashed in your mind—‘Never be safe’—and you grit your teeth together, snagging the cusp of Bucky’s lower lip as you did it. He groaned. Before you could even try to apologize, though, he was gripping your face harder in his hands and coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. His front was still flush with yours, and your legs were starting to wind around his hips. Your husband nudged you back against the cabinets, and from the force of that push, you felt it.

Felt him.

Surely, it had had to take two very fucked up individuals to get all hot and bothered from a bloodbath that had just taken place; but, again, here you were—together.

And there you went, grinding your lower half with his.

“Doll?” Bucky broke out, word slurred just a little.

For a second, you thought he was going to stop you. Your eyes scanned his, and you were already planning to apologize for being so horny, it must just be the—

“You know I love you, right?” he breathed.

You blinked. You were about to nod, when you felt the bulge in his slacks start to rub against your barely-clothed heat, and something akin to a shockwave coursed through your frame. It couldn’t be helped. A monsoon of hyper-sensitized pleasure trembled over the skin in a way you’d never felt it before, and suddenly you were letting out a moan: a muffled cry of, ‘Yes, I-I know.’

Your husband swallowed and stared, slightly taken aback by the reaction his erection had produced. He’d never felt that either. At least from what he could remember.

The truth was that he’d never had a pregnant wife before—someone whose body was now extraordinarily responsive to his touch, nearly aching for him.

When you scooted your butt to the edge of the counter and dug your heels in the backs of his legs, humping him, almost, he got the idea. Bucky swallowed again.

“I love you too, I— I—” you started, already out of breath, “I just really need you to fuck me. Can you— please—”

Bucky didn’t need to be asked once, much less twice. He already had his belt, button, and zip undone before you could even look down, and then your own pyjama shorts were sliding off too. The counter was cool against your skin, but your husband’s warmth was more than enough to compensate for the loss. You smiled again, sheepish.

“It’s just…hormones,” you said, quieter toward the end.

You weren’t sure why you felt so ashamed to simply say, ‘James, I’ve been damn near insane with desire ever since you put a baby in me. Can you give me five more?’ But you did. You felt your cheeks start to heat as your lower half was left exposed to the air, and Bucky slipped his hand down between your legs, practically groaning:

“Honey, you’re soaked.”

There wasn’t one iota of shame in his tone.

He was more than happy to find you drenched beneath his touch. He had a smile on his face and a warmth bleeding from every fingertip as he caressed that soft, tender spot. You didn’t need to tell him what was on your mind, either. He sensed something was making you shy, and rather than have you say it aloud, he just touched you gentler, stroked the skin more affectionately, and tilted his head so only you could hear him, quiet as ever:

“That’s my girl. Feeling good for me?”

You felt your heartbeat between your thighs.

“My baby,” Bucky went on, voice dulcet and slow.

Your body was trembling at the edge, waiting. Impatient.

“My wife,” he said that with a smile, into your neck.

He lowered you onto his length, and you whined.

“Mother of my child.” The smile got bigger.

You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Feeling him slide inside the most precious, wet, pliable part of you, stretching you out, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. You felt full in a whole new way; the groan Bucky let out when you were impaled down to the base of his cock said he shared the feeling. He throbbed inside you.

“You’re—fuck.” Bucky’s words broke off at the sensation.

Your walls were as slick as ever, your body delicate, rolling your hips to the first gentle thrusts that his shaft carved inside. Neither one of you could last long like this.

Still, at the threat of sublime pleasure, you felt fear, briefly: Schröder’s implacable stare—and the thousands more like him in HYDRA. You couldn’t help but grip Bucky tighter, willing these thoughts away with the rhythm of your body over his. Feeling him fill you up, fuck you with quick, deliberate thrusts and hold you, ‘That’s it, take what you need, sweet girl, you’re okay.’

You wished you were. You wanted to be. With every stab of Bucky’s hips, you hoped this would be the last night you ever feared for you or your child’s life, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. This was everything your husband’s varied ‘enterprises’ entailed, and a life with him meant never knowing a day without it—fear.

The head of Bucky’s cock grazed an especially sensitive ridge in your walls, and you whimpered into his shoulder.

You smelled blood.

He pushed you back against the counter and pounded harder, breaths heavy and labored and gruff as he spoke:

“You’re okay, baby, it’s alright.”

Your mind tried clinging to that thought, nodding along as if to convince yourself. The pleasure grew stronger, and your body was hot. Everything was heightened. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips or his rough, bloodied touch from roaming you wherever he could reach, and he kept rutting his hips, assuring you gently, again and again, that it was all okay. He was right here.

The pleasure from the depths of your body was beyond your control—you couldn’t help it when the band inside of you snapped. You held Bucky closer and you moaned, more desperate and needy and soaking for him, taking something from him, and knowing the bliss you felt would only steal the dark thoughts for a moment or two.

Bucky’s eyes said it just the same. He couldn’t keep stuffing you full, feeling his pleasure hit its peak, and finally painting your insides without sharing that look.

You were less than halfway down from your highs when you felt him go still, panting fast, then hold your face.

“I love you.”

It was desperate. Hoping for something.

“I love you, too,” you told him, and you meant it.

But there was more. Both of you knew there was more.

“I can’t be married to you, Bucky.”

You didn’t know why it had to come out now, but the emotions were there—his gaze had all but drawn it out.

Still sheathed inside you, your husband tensed. He looked as if he might try and shake his head, but the movement was stalled by his own momentary shock. He’d known the words were coming, but the sound of you saying them now wasn’t any less jarring to hear. Before he could reply, you found yourself cutting back in:

“Not now, at least. We need some…time. To think.”

You weren’t sure what you were saying, just that your lips were moving and every new word was hurting him more.

“Even with Schröder gone, there are so many…dangers for both—or, all—of us, and I don’t know…I just can’t—”

—imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like his.

You didn’t need to say it.

The pain in Bucky’s eyes already communicated as much, and the conviction in your own only convinced him that you’d meant it—and what you said was the truth. You couldn’t stay in a marriage that wasn’t safe.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something more, the man surprised you when he squeezed your hand.

Nodding, almost imperceptibly, in front of you.

“I can wait,” he said, “Whenever you’re ready, doll.”

His voice was hoarse, words strained from the lump in his throat as he spoke, but the message was sincere.

“Whenever you feel safe,” he added, softly.

You wanted to hold him again. Like before, your eyes began well with something stinging and harsh, but the look you’d fixed on him was filled with nothing but love. You would’ve reached for him then, if he hadn’t moved his hand to his pocket. He felt around inside it, briefly.

Then Bucky retrieved your wedding ring.

Holding you up against him, pressed snugly into the counter with your legs still wrapped around his lower half, he pinched the silver band between his forefinger and thumb and held it up to you. It glistened in the light.

“The next time you wear it, I want it to be because you chose to marry me. Not for anything, or anyone, else.”

Nothing arranged, no game, no being forced to stay.

You nodded and had to blink through a layer of tears.

Bucky’s thumb traced the moisture, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. He’d had to keep blinking himself, and before you could reach for him, he kissed you.

“I really hope you marry me again one day, Mrs. Barnes.”

You smiled, having parted but still holding on.

“I think I would like that, too. One day.”

The next thing you heard was a sound at the front door: what sounded like a crash. Half a dozen sets of feet stumbling inside, crowding the foyer, making a loud, frantic clamor that you and Bucky knew only too well. The two of you scrambled to get your clothes back on as Steve, Nat, Sam, and Sharon all seemed to yell at once.

You had one hell of a story to tell them.

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yandere-yearnings · 18 hours

Note

Weird thought rant ‼️

I always see in smuts that the MC gets a belly bulge and all that but okay, hear me out, how about MALE belly bulge? I have no idea if that’s possible due to male anatomy but I just thought that would be something

Join the cause and support Male belly bulge 😸

dw nonnie, i'm alr w/ you😌✨ (+ for reference it is possible!!)

anyway, this, for vio bc i feel like it'd be more prominent on him than my other ocs. also as a little smth for all the vio fuckers who continue to dominate the inbox🥰

NSFW under the cut!

“Shit.” Gasping breaths. Intakes hitched harder and harder. “Fuck, please. Please, I’m sorr-”

Vio's words never quite made it out of his mouth, not when your fingers quickly found their place within the wetness oozing from the space between spongey tongue and roof. Teary greens straining to meet your gaze, pleading mercy like what you were doing to him was torture, even though Vio was the one who slammed his ass back to meet your hips each time, without fail.

“Aren’t you a fucking mess?” The amusement in your voice was palpable, and you knew it got him off, what with the way he keened, forehead pressing to the sheets and hands fisting the fabric as though it could save his life. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard an apology from these pretty lips,” your point was driven home when he gagged, and your spit-slicked digits slipped out just for you to smear it to a shine on them, “best not start now, hm? It might make me wanna take pity on you and then-”

He cried your name, and you watched the muscles in his back ripple as he convulsed. Sweat glistening, mesmerising in the way rain droplets were when they ran races against glass windows, dripping into the divots of sacral dimples you were aching to dig your thumbs into.

“And then who’s gonna fuck you like this, huh?” Your cleaner hand reached out, wrapped around his throat tight enough to choke him, and pulled him up. It drove you deeper into him — had Vio's eyes rolling to the back of his skull, had him clawing at you with almost the same intensity as he moaned. “Fuck you this good,” your hand trailed to his abdomen, where skin stretched thin, “fill you up, make you scream. You know I’m the only one who can do it for you. Only I know who you are, what you deserve. Right, Vio?”

“O-Only you,” Vio rasped, “only you, Y/N. Please.”

“You keep saying that,” you hummed, pressing a kiss to his jugular absent-mindedly. His pulse was fluttering, light and so fast in a way you thought suited the image of delicacy he’d crafted for the world. The way his body molded to your shape said otherwise, unbreaking, despite your efforts to do just that. “What are you begging for? What have I not given you?”

“Everything.” Wisps of blue flurried in your vision, and they were all you could see for seconds after Vio tilted his head back on your shoulder. The ocean, in the colour of his eyes. Lapping waves that undulated and moved towards you. “This much isn’t enough.” Seasalt at his nape, on your tastebuds, becoming addictive. “Give it all to me.” Threatening to drown you. “Y/N.”

For a second you were gone, and then his voice, weighted only momentarily, had you snapping back into reality, into motion, into him. “Greedy,” you tittered, index up his Adam’s apple to tap on his chin and push it down, “can’t you see that I already am?”

“Fuck.” Vio's eyes widened, the slightest bit — you wouldn’t have caught it if you weren’t looking. Your palm smoothed over where his belly bulged, applied a little pressure and watched his pupils blow. It was funny to you that he hadn’t noticed before. “Fuck. Y/N, wait.” Between his legs, Vio's dick twitched, clearly not as spent as either of you had first assumed, not with how it was leaking now. “Wait!”

There are things you’d never know about him; what type of pleasure coursed through his veins on seeing the strain you put on him, if it was a physical fulfillment, if it was solely the feeling, or the thought, being claimed, stretched, ruined. You never wandered about it long — after all, it didn’t matter. In seconds, the ocean overflowed for you. He spilt for you.

Vio lost his mind for you.

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kurishiri · 2 days

Text

william v.s. darius . . . william rex epilogue 🌹

— this translation may not be 100% accurate or contain creative liberties due to characterization or narrative flow purposes. if you enjoy, please consider reblogging, but don’t repost these or claim these as your own!

— cw: very suggestive scenes that are awkwardly translated. also i translated this at 1am; you've been warned lmao

Kate: So we’re going shopping!

William: That we are. It’s become less crowded now, which would make it the ideal time for window shopping, right?

W: Let’s choose something together. One that would suit you.

Unlike the lively buzz of the street fair, where many people had gathered,

here, we didn’t have to worry about our surroundings, so we could walk at our own pace.

(Will knew that, so he invited me here.)

(…And the fact I could spend time together with him like that was a delightful reward as well.)

William: That outfit looks charming. It seems like it would fit your air.

Kate: Wah, this looks wonderful! It goes well with the skirt next to it too.

I was happy at how we walked side by side as well, in a good mood, and——

Kate: …Could we hold hands?

William: What a coincidence. I was just thinking the same.

When his beautiful fingers touched mine, our fingers intertwined together.

Kate: Hehe, thank you.

I squeezed his hand back, when…

Kate: Ah.

As if being led away, my eyes stopped on something,

with that something being a crimson red ribbon that went with a dress that left quite an impression.

When William followed my gaze, he narrowed those red eyes.

William: Indeed, I can easily imagine you in that.

W: Then, this dress is for you.

—— Time skip; William’s room ——

Kate: …How does it look?

I tried on the dress that I had gotten as a present as soon as we returned.

In response, Will, who was sitting on the sofa, narrowed his eyes, making their way from the top of my head to my toes.

William: Would you mind spinning around for me?

Kate: Like this?

When I did as I was told, the crimson ribbon fluttered.

William: It does suit you.

Kate: Thank you. Then I’ll be wearing this on our next date.

I looked down at myself, biting down on the feeling that sprung from within me,

when I realized the way he was looking at me.

His gaze on me seemed to hold a bewitching smile,

and I felt a familiar twinge that had been locked within me resurface.

Kate: …Will.

I found myself drawn to him, until I stood right across.

Kate: I want you to kiss me.

William: ——Then come here, my robin.

With that invitation, I sat atop his legs, and when our faces drew together, close enough where I could feel his breath…

His hands caressed my cheeks.

Those eyes, the color of blood, held a hint of amusement.

Kate: …Don’t keep me in suspense like that.

William: Hehe, my apologies.

W: I simply wanted to see more of you being honest with your desires.

Becoming more excited with how his fingers teased my lips, I took his finger into my mouth. [1]

William: ……… [surprised]

W: Pfft, haha. It makes me happy that you’d like to have a taste of my fingers as well.

W: But then you won’t be able to kiss me like that, right?

Kate: Ah…

Withdrawing his thumb, half-open lips met with one impatient for a kiss.

Kate: Mn…

His tongue slipped in, giving me a numbing sensation as they playfully intertwined together——

And when he let go, he gave a small smile.

William: …You are free to decide what it is your heart seeks and what you would like to do.

Kate: …I know.

William: And perhaps your heart may change. Our feelings can’t be restricted, nor should they ever be.

W: Of course, not by others, and not even by ourselves.

Kate: …So that is to say,

K: I am free to do as my heart wants. And even in this very moment [2], I love you, Will.

William: Yes, I figured as much.

Kate: Huh?

William: Your heart is close to mine, and we are not separated in the slightest.

W: That is how my heart feels——at any moment in time.

Kate: Will…

My lover before my eyes seemed to always, no matter in which moment in time, take pleasure in unraveling what was in my heart.

Feeling this, I…

Kate: If we stack even these smallest moments… they can become an eternity.

William: …Indeed.

Our lips met once more, being fondled affectionately in my mouth.

William: And I would like to have a taste of you, to my heart’s content.

W: If it is as you say, and these small moments can become an eternity… I would like to embody it.

Kate: …Will…

When I kissed him, he sought me deeper.

William: Should we take it to the bed? Or…

Kate: …Haa… I want more… like this…

William: …I imagine it would be quite frustrating to move, after all.

With the ribbon of the dress undone, my chest relaxed [3].

As if the wrapping of the present was removed, my skin was now exposed,

and my nipples gave way to my desire.

William: …Kate.

With his lips calling my name, his tone filled with emotion, pleasure rushed through me.

William: Could I engrave my feelings in you?

He sucked on my breasts, leaving a mark as red as his eyes.

The throbbing in my core excited me and trickled within me,

and I welcomed his palm as it slid in——

While indulging in the sweet excitement he gave me, I tasted the pleasure of this small moment in time.

Fin.

will vs darius jude vs nica alfons vs ring

← prev fin

NOTES:

[1] I wasn’t sure how to phrase this; part of it may be like midnight or 1am translating, but I also wasn’t completely sure how to translate this part of the line [その指先をはむりと含んだ] (sono yubisaki wo hamuri to fukunda) as well. So I’m mostly kind of guessing based on the context of the lines that come after.

[2] Kate uses the word [刹那] (setsuna) here, which means a moment or instant, though this particular word, unlike another similar meaning word, [瞬間] (shunkan), [刹那] is derived from the Sanskrit word kshana, which in Buddhism refers to the “shortest possible interval of time.”

[3] They say here [胸元が緩む] (munamoto ga yurumu), where [胸元] refers to like the chest or breast area (but can also mean the solar plexus), while [緩む] means like to loosen, slacken, relax, that kind of thing, both for tangible things like parts of the body and intangible things like rules. I’m not really sure exactly how to translate this, but it’s probably referring to how a woman’s breasts are bare, without the support of anything like a bra.

END NOTES: the difference between will and darius' end was interesting, like how they both treated the boy. they're probably trying to hit home the differences between them... which darius seemed to pick up on. i wouldn't say i'm very good at translating william, per se, but i did enjoy his story as well, and just the way he spent time with kate and darius! i feel they highlighted a lot of characteristics of his here that i feel many would like, appreciate, or be drawn to.

full masterlist 🌹🪽

#again apologies for any awkwardly tled lines!#but still i hope you enjoyy #i meant to get this done yester #but .. stuff happened ;v;#ikemen villains #ikevil #イケメンヴィラン #ikevil william #ikevil william rex #william rex #ikemen villains william #cybird ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #otome game #otome #ikevil translation #ikevil translations

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moyazaika · 3 days

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could you imagine a rapper yandere that disses anyone that even MENTIONS their darling/"girlfriend" is a way that isn't worshipping. and he disses hard.

When I say "girlfriend" I mean, the rapper knows the name, address, occupation, phone number, email, etc, has a shrine full of photos that he hired people to take over someone that doesn't know anything about it.

reader is just another person who listens to music and knows his name in passing and his reputation for dissing anyone who talks "bad" about his girl. reader respects it, but doesn't really listen to rap so they move on with their life, completely unaware that THEY are the girl.

it's a complete coincidence that the features and traits that he raps about are the exact same as them. There are plenty of people with that trait.

and no one bats an eye that no photos of the "girlfriend" exists to the public. It's no surprise someone with his level of fame would want to keep their girl private.

"I saw you yesterday at your grandma's, it's a real shame what happened to your grandpops, I need some new fertilizer in my garden, been growing some bad crops, your girl Morgan so bad you're getting blowjobs from your grandma?"

*camera noises*

(I'm not a rapper, apologies for ✨cringe✨)

hey so please don’t apologise i actually fucking love this idea. 😭😭❤️‍🩹 this would be so so cute bonus points for being set in the early 2000’s so we’re in that era of pop and rap where it’s rlly just a few big names dominating the charts, the fun awards shows, cool fashion; y2k baby!

and in this new age of music you’ve got this chart topping rapper who (unlike the other guys in his genre) seems to be rapping not about his opps or his cars or his cash or his bitches but… how much he loves his gf. it’s incredibly endearing.

if only his gf actually knew she was dating him!

and when he stays on top of those charts, wins all those music awards; there’s bound to be jealousy and bitter envy. other artists complain. celebrity interviewers and journalists eat it up; “so what do you think of this mystery girl that seems to be the subject of all his music?”

his competitor rolls his eyes, “dumb as fuck, the both of them. always banging on about how lovely she is how pretty and smart she is… this bitch is a one hit wonder, you feel me?”

… he did not like that. drake vs kanye 2.0 ensues except this time there is no coming back for the poor soul who has the balls to say that. rapper ‘bf’ puts the poor guy’s life on blast.

‘industry plant? least i’m not a plant by the government / makin’ sure them anti bullying campaigns is working.”

okay, that’s not so bad right?

“your funny’s up, but your syndrome’s down, like your money after i put this out—but your dick stays up / when you drive ‘round and look for little boys to spend a night with in town.”

oh! well. looks like nobody’s going to mention this mysterious girl rapper bf adores so much ever again :’)

#ooooh the album cover being a single colour #and it’s like the colour of ur eyes #and i just know this man has a tattoo of ur name somewhere the cameras can’t see #not cus he’s shy (fuck no)#but because he can’t scare u off before he introduces himself to ya #ring ring #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere headcanons

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masonmontz · 20 hours

Text

hellooo everyone :) hope you like it

REMEMBER: english is not my first language

angst word count: 9,5k

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Y/N has a new boyfriend” Declan spoke and silence was the response he received. Mason felt his heart skip a beat and then fall to the floor, causing Mason to get a lump in his throat.

He just stared at Dec, trying to swallow the food he had put in his mouth before hearing the news. It took a lot of effort to swallow.

“I’m not hungry anymore” Mason pushed the plate away, feeling the strange sensation in his stomach, the same feeling that kept him awake at night.

Lauren looked at him with pity and Mason felt like an idiot. Declan cleared his throat, realizing he shouldn't have told Mason the news, but what could he do if you were friends with him and Lauren too?

“Sorry mate, I shouldn't have said that” Declan apologized to Mason, but he shrugged it off, not placing the blame on Declan.

“Who is the guy?” Reece asked, because after all he is also your friend. The restaurant seemed silent with the awkward atmosphere that remained at the table and Mason just stared at the plate he barely touched.

“David. They work together” Lauren spoke and Mason looked at her, but Lauren was already looking at him waiting for Mason's reaction. Mason looked down and felt everyone's eyes on him, Dec, Lauren, Ben, Reece, Aimee and Henry.

Mason felt like he was a bomb about to explode and everyone wanted to see the moment it happened.

“Sorry guys, I’m going home” Mason got up quickly and without looking at his friends, ‘cause he already knew that everyone noticed how affected he was by the news that you were dating, but he didn't want to see the pity in everyone's eyes. “Declan, pay my portion and I'll give you the money later.”

Mason left the restaurant quickly, but he heard Aimee's heels behind him and he sighed, knowing he wouldn't be able to outrun the stubborn woman running after him.

“Mase, wait-” she called him, and Mason only stopped walking when he felt the cold air on his face, needing some fresh air. “Hey.”

“I can't take this anymore, Aimee. I can't” Mason's voice was cracked, and the state he had been in for almost two months was deplorable. “She left me in the shit.”

Mason knows that Aimee is your best friend and he knows that you two talk daily, but he needs to talk to someone ‘cause Mason feels like at any moment he will reach his breaking point.

His eyes filled with tears, and he was looking out into the cold night but Aimee could see his eyes were wet.

“I'm so sorry, Mase. I tried to talk to her about it but she won't let me” Aimee hugged Mason from the side, putting her arms around his shoulders, even though he was taller than her.

Mason looked at her devastated, and Aimee felt her own heart ache at the sadness on Mason's face.

“I really can't take this anymore, it's too much for me, Aim” Mason sighed and brought his hands to his face, because he still felt his heart tighten in his chest, he wasn't hungry and he felt like he could vomit ‘cause of the emotions that were going through him.

He missed you.

He was sad.

He was alone.

And you left.

“You know you can talk to all of us, right? We're your friends, Mason, and you can run to us whenever you need to. You don't have to deal with all of this alone” Aimee held his hand and Mason nodded, but he knew Aimee had been busy lately because she was planning her own wedding with Henry, but she was so nice that she offered to be Mason's support since you left.

“I know, thank you” Mason tried to smile, but he knew he gave the saddest smile anyone had ever seen. “Tell them I apologized for ditching dinner.”

“Don’t worry, but please, take care of yourself.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

You and Mason have been friends for years, you met in school and you had some friends in common. Everyone knew that Mason had been in love with you since you were a teenager, but you were never able to see him as anything more than a great friend. Not since the night you kissed for the first time.

You also knew that Mason was in love with you, but sometimes things don't happen the way we want, and even though he always treated you much better than your boyfriends, there was nothing you could do if you didn't like him back.

The night you were celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday in a place where all your friends were was when Mason decided to make the first move.

He asked to deliver the gift he bought for you away from the others, and he gave you the most beautiful bracelet you had ever seen, it was gold and had your initial as a pendant, but it also had shells and stars, books, teacups and everything you liked the most. It was so delicate that you were moved when you realized how much Mason knew you.

When you hugged and thanked him that's when Mason kissed you, and that's okay, at that moment you didn't care and kissed him back. It was terrible to realize that that was the best kiss you had ever had, no one had ever kissed you so intensely, with so much love and passion.

Your mistake was going home with him after the party, ‘cause Mason was all over you the whole night and everyone could tell something was up, and you were also wrong for kissing him back every time, maybe giving Mason hope that it all meant something.

At first it didn't really mean anything, but after weeks of having sex with him, even you who had an impenetrable heart found yourself attracted and in love with him. Mason made you smile, Mason treated you well and always put you first, and when you realized that, you also realized that you never put him first. And you never would.

You were working so hard at work to get the job the company was offering in Australia that it wouldn't be fair to him ‘cause you wouldn't be able to give him what he deserves if you had to move.

Mason didn't accept staying away, so he said he didn't care if you didn't give a name to what you had. You weren't just friends but you weren't dating either, you knew his parents but not as his girlfriend, and Mason accompanied you everywhere just as... someone you were sleeping with. That was it.

For months it was like this. It was your house that Mason went to after games, it was you he called when he lost a game and wanted comfort from someone he loved or when they won and he wanted to celebrate with someone. You, always you, no one else.

Mason loved you so much that he felt his heart jump with joy every time someone said your name or when he saw a message from you on his phone. Everyone thought you were his girlfriend, but Mason was too embarrassed to tell you that you weren't his girlfriend. Even he couldn't understand what was going on between you, so imagine telling others.

But your time was limited, and everyone knew it.

Almost a year later you received the proposal you had dreamed of for so long, and you were so happy that the idea of leaving England wasn't scary at all, it was wonderful. You only told your parents at first, then Aimee ten days before you left.

You didn't know how to tell him that you were moving, especially since you knew Mason wouldn't handle it very well. He was injured and had some problems with his Chelsea contract, and Mason was looking to you every day for comfort to feel good.

He found out before you could tell him, and only because you left the plane ticket where he could see it, but it wasn't intentional, you just forgot to put it away. You still remember his face when Mason turned to you with the ticket in his hand, and you felt your heart skip a beat as you realized the argument was closer than you thought.

“Why do you have a plane ticket to Australia?” He asked quietly, but deep down you knew Mason knew what it meant.

You couldn't lie to him anymore and you had to be honest, no matter how much it hurt.

“Cause I’m moving to Australia” Mason looked at the paper in his hand once more, probably wanting to see the date. The day you would leave.

“In ten days?” You just nodded, sighing when you saw Mason’s lip tremble. He put the paper back where he had found it and stared at you. “And when were you going to tell me? When you were getting on the plane?”

“I was planning on telling you right away, you weren't supposed to find out like this.”

“It wouldn't hurt any less if you had told me sooner. How long have you known you were moving?”

“Almost two months” Mason agreed and you could see a piece of his heart break, then another and another. “C’mon, let's talk about it.”

You held out your hand to Mason, but he didn't take it and just stood there staring at you. You walked over to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the couch with you. Mason sat on the couch and you knelt on the floor in front of him, resting your arms on his knee as he stared at you in so much pain that you felt your heart clench.

“Mase, you know how much I wanted this job, I worked really hard for this transfer and I finally got it” you explained to him, gently stroking his leg. “Don't be mad at me, but we knew I would have to move if I got the job.”

“It's not that I didn't want you to get the job, I just didn't think it would happen, it seemed so far away and you didn't tell me. I'm the last to know” he spoke, staring at his hands without looking at you, but you brought your hand to his chin and made him look at you. “And we both know that our relationship isn't going to work out.”

“We just don't date because you don't want to, if it were up to me you know you'd be my girlfriend” he spoke softly and you sighed, knowing it was true.

“Mase, I know you have a crush on me and yeah, I have a crush on you but-”

“Y/N, I don’t have a crush on you, I’m in love with you. I love you” he said and you felt your heart race ‘cause you never let Mason confess his feelings to you, and you knew that what he felt was much bigger. “How can you say that I have a crush on you when I've been doing everything for you for almost a year? It's not fair to me.”

“Well, I never asked you to do anything for me. Mason, I'm sorry, but I also never promised to offer you more than I already do” you got up from the floor and sat next to him, but Mason continued to stare at the floor in front of him.

“I love you and I've loved you since before I kissed you for the first time, how funny is that? And even after months of sleeping next to you, having sex, wanting to be good enough for you, you don't feel anything for me? How can you be so cold?”

“I never wanted this relationship to go ahead ‘cause I always hoped to go to Australia. You've got Chelsea, you've got enough women to last you the rest of your life, live it, Mason.”

“I don't want any other woman, it's always been you, Y/N. It's always been you, and you acting like it's nothing is what hurts me the most” a tear ran down Mason's face, but he quickly wiped it away, which was in vain because he couldn't stop other tears from falling, and before you knew it Mason was crying, sobbing. “Why are you doing this to me?”

You didn't know how to respond, so you stayed silent as you watched Mason cry. And the scene was sad, because there was nothing you could do to comfort him, what was done was done.

“I will wait for you to come back” he whispered, and then turned his face to look at you.

“Mason, that’s the point. I don’t know if I will ever come back. What if I like Australia? Or if I find someone there?” At that moment Mason felt like he was going to have a panic attack, and he was sure he was running out of air to breathe. “Go and live your life and forget about me, that's what I'm asking.”

“I can’t do this, Y/N. I can’t. I love you and I have loved you since I was eighteen, how can you ask me to forget you? How can you ask me to forget you after sharing so much of myself with you?” He stood up, putting his hands in his hair and breathing quickly.

“Don't forget me then, but I won't promise you that I'll come back.”

“How can you pretend you don't feel anything for me? You can confess it, no one has to know.”

“Because I don’t love you back.” You said it, and even Mason knew it was a lie, but it still hurt.

“You do. Don’t lie. If you don’t love me you shouldn’t act like you do” he said between sobs. “Don’t do this to me, please. I’m begging you to stay.”

“I already made my decision long ago, you're not going to change that Mason” you spoke with a lump in your throat, wanting to cry but refusing to cry in front of him and making things more difficult.

“Just say you love me back” he begged, and Mason looked like the saddest man you'd ever seen.

“I'm not going to say anything ‘cause things can't get any harder than they already are. Everything it's over between us, Mason. In ten days I'm going to Australia and you're going to stay here and conquer the world. Without me.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

Mason sighed as he entered his quiet London flat. It was strange to return to a place that had once been the place he considered home, but now London was no longer his home, and neither was Manchester.

Because the place Mason considered home for a long time was in Australia, and now it was someone else's home.

Mason was going crazy and he was sure of it, but he swears that when he threw himself on the bed where you used to lie he smelled your perfume. That's where Mason broke down.

“Why did you do this to me, Y/N?” He spoke to himself, closing his eyes and feeling the tears run down his neck ‘cause he was lying down. A sob escaped his lips, it was the first time he had cried since the last time he saw you and Mason realized that he didn't know how to deal with the things that were happening in his life.

His contract with Chelsea ended and Mason joined Manchester United, but he was far from a happy man. Even with so many insults and threats, he didn't cry once, and every smile he gave when he went to Manchester United was fake.

Mason was just surviving and doing whatever he was told to do, ‘cause all his thoughts were about you, from the moment he woke up in the morning until the time he lay down to sleep.

And Mason even had the false idea that you were also thinking about him, but no, because now you have a boyfriend. Mason feels his own body heat up with anger when he thinks about another man touching you, kissing you in the same way he did.

Mason's phone vibrated in his pocket, and he sighed because he didn't want to look at the message. And it was something that had become a habit for him, if no message was from you, why would he be excited to receive one?

But he still picked up his phone to check and was not at all surprised to see Aimee's message.

Mason threw his phone on the mattress, looking around the room and seeing that you hadn't left anything there, not even a sock, and it was as if you had never entered that room.

The worst part is that every time Mason saw Aimee he remembered that you two were always together too, because you were like twins, you were always together and did the same things. He also heard that you and Aimee had a falling out over your decision to move to Australia, but had talked things through before you traveled.

Y/N has a new boyfriend. Declan's voice crossed Mason's mind again, and that phrase had been haunting him ever since he heard it.

Mason knew you loved him, he could see it in the touches, the looks and even the secrets you shared with each other. You were too stubborn to tell him that, and Mason knew it wasn't fair to ask you to give up on a dream, but he wished he could have heard at least once the three words he always wanted to hear from your lips. Just once was enough, because then Mason would know that all those months together had been worth it.

Mason can't understand how you don't miss him, someone you shared everything with until months ago and now he's a stranger. How can you not miss him when Mason has been missing you even when he's sleeping? Don't you miss him when you're taking a shower with your new boyfriend? The thought makes Mason want to vomit.

But now you have a boyfriend and it's him you say I love you to, it's him who asks to hold your hand, it's him who admires you sleeping.

Mason didn't know it was possible to feel so jealous of someone while having a broken heart. It's been five months since you left and Mason feels like his heart hurts more every day, and he doesn't know how long it will take for him to heal.

He needs to forget you ‘cause you've definitely already forgotten him, but he doesn't know how. Mason discovered that he needs you the same way he needs air to breathe.

But you moved on and Mason moved on with a broken heart, in a helpless state, and even though he'll never open up to anyone the way he did to you, at some point that pain has to pass.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹ 3 months later ✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“No, I didn't forget the dress, mum” you said in a phone call walking through the London airport while talking to your mother. She was traveling to Ireland and wouldn't be back until next week, so you were alone for the next few days. “Yes, I will wait for you to come back, you know I will stay in England for twenty days. I know. Yes, I will. Bye, I love you too.”

You almost groaned at the amount of people walking around London airport, and it would be much harder to find Aimee than you thought. After eight months, you are back in the rainy, cold weather of England, and you missed it so much that you felt like you could cry at any moment.

Aimee and Henry's wedding is in three days, and that's why you've brought yourself back to England, ‘cause you wouldn't miss it for anything.

Australia is a great place to live and you love your job there, you've made some friends but... Australia is not London.

“Y/N!” You heard Aimee's voice before you even saw her, and your eyes filled with tears when you saw her waiting for you at the airport exit. It was like a scene from a movie, but you ran and hugged each other while you cried.

“How can you go and live far away from me? My God, I hate you, I was dying missing you” she cried, and you didn't let go of each other for long minutes. “Did you miss me?”

“Of course I missed you” you wiped the tear from your tear-streaked face, and it was impossible to stop smiling when you knew you were home again. “You look so beautiful. How is everyone? Are you looking forward to the wedding?”

“I can't believe I'm without my best friend when I get married, let's start there. And yes, everyone is fine, everyone is excited to see you again” you and Aimee walked towards the airport exit carrying your bags, and the reception you received was heavy rain at the exit. Nothing better than being in England.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“I heard you have a boyfriend in Australia” Henry said with a smirk on his mouth, and you blushed. “Why didn't you bring him?”

“First, we’re just having sex, he’s not my boyfriend. Second, why would I bring him to your wedding?” You put a piece of pizza in your mouth, wanting to ignore what they were talking about.

Josh wasn't really your boyfriend, you worked together and enjoyed being together, but he was in love with someone else and you knew it, so you never wanted anything from him. Your heart was only half in Australia too.

“And what was that photo you posted on Instagram months ago?” Aimee asked and you looked angry at her. They were nosy and wouldn't change.

“He mentioned me in his stories, what could I do?” You shrugged it off, because it really wasn't that big of a deal.

“Everyone saw it” Henry said, and he emphasized when he said “everyone”.

You looked at him and thought of Mason. In fact, Mason hadn't left your thoughts for months, he was what you thought about twenty-four hours a day. You looked at the table without looking at the two of them, and even though you didn't want to show that you cared about Mason, they were able to read your face like a book.

“You know he's coming to the wedding, right?” Aimee asked and you agreed. “It's the international break and he has a few days off, he'll be in London during those days.”

“I know.”

You were nervous about seeing Mason again after so long, even more because you left without saying what he wanted so bad to hear.

It wasn't fair to confess your feelings when you were moving to the other side of the world. It wasn't fair to him and it wasn't fair to you, that's why even after so many months with him and knowing how much he loved you, you refused to tell him how you felt about him, because you knew it would be worse.

Deep down you know that if he brings someone else it will hurt, but you can't feel hurt when it was your decision. Maybe, just maybe, if Mason is over you it means that going back to Australia and moving on is the best option, even if you feel incomplete.

God, it's so hard to love someone and want to do the right thing.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Should I wear red lingerie?” Aimee asked and you looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You’re not supposed to have sex until the wedding” you looked at yourself in the mirror, admiring your bare legs in the long-sleeved black dress. “Do I look hotter or is it just me?”

“You are hot, baby.”

You and Aimee are getting ready for her bachelorette party at a club in London, one you used to go to as teenagers. She's invited her bridesmaids and other friends, and it's sure to be an amazing night.

You can't believe your best friend is getting married.

The club was full of people, the music was lively and soon you found the place reserved for Aimee's bachelor party, because there were balloons, glitter, feathers and lots of pink and white.

In Australia you made some friends but it was different being with the people you grew up with, who know you inside out and like the same things as you.

Aimee cried every fifteen minutes when she remembered that she was going to marry the love of her life in two days, and in the end someone always cried with emotion with her. She and Henry loved each other since they met, it was incredible to see how well they worked together, how much Henry treated her well or did everything for her.

You always wanted someone like that by your side.

As you watched Aimee talk to Kylie, probably about the wedding or about Henry, you remembered that you had a person like that for you.

And you ruined everything.

You felt your heart skip a beat when you thought about Mason again, and even after the drinks you had already had, you felt sad when you remembered that besides pushing Mason out of your life, you were also alone.

A few months ago, before you moved, you asked your mother how she knew that Richard, your stepfather, was the right person for her. She and your father had a bad marriage and she was not happy, and you and your sister suffered the consequences of that failed marriage, but with Richard she was glowing with happiness.

“It needs to be someone special.”

Someone who doesn't argue with you, someone who celebrates the little things, someone who makes you happy most days. Happiness isn't eternal but it's moments, and if someone makes you sad more than happy, there's something wrong.

You had someone special, and you realized it when you stared into that empty, silent apartment in Australia, far from everyone you love.

You were lost in thought, but you came back to reality when Aimee screamed and pointed behind you, and then you heard male laughter.

A laugh that you could recognize anywhere.

You smelled Mason's scent before you even saw him and your legs went weak as you realized what was happening.

“Hi boys” Aime squealed, cheering as Henry walked up to her and kissed her in front of everyone, causing the girls to clap. You’d have smiled if you weren't feeling Mason's gaze on your back.

It was ridiculous that you were afraid to turn around and look at him, but you were scared to death. You turned so you could look at his face, even if it was the only time that night. You couldn't help yourself ‘cause you needed to look at him, so you turned around.

You met his eyes before you could react, because you knew he was watching you, his gaze heavy on your back. His face was serious now, and the worst thing was that you noticed that his eyes no longer had that sparkle they had when you were together.

You were the one most to blame for this.

You couldn't look away from him but you couldn't say anything either, you were just taken out of your thoughts and had to look to your side when Declan shouted when he saw you. You smiled at your friend, happy to see him, because Declan was your family too.

“Hello, D” you hugged him, closing your eyes and feeling emotional. You don't know how you managed to go so many months without seeing them. “How are you?”

“I'm fine. And you? Did you realize that England is your place?” Lauren walked over and Declan wrapped his arms around her neck. “This woman has been talking about you every day since you moved in, I couldn't take it anymore.”

“That’s not true” she complained and rolled her eyes smiling, because Lauren was also one of your best friends. “By the way, we missed you, Y/N.”

Mason was standing in the same spot and you finally turned to him after talking to Declan, and you almost rolled your eyes when you saw them all move away purposefully. It was like seeing a ray of sunshine after a storm, and you felt like nothing else mattered when Mason had his eyes on you like you were the only woman in the room.

It was ridiculous to try to explain how handsome Mason looked. He was wearing black pants, a black men's tank top, a white wool coat and Converse.

“Hello Mason” you said, and even with the loud music he would hear, because it seemed like there were only the two of you there.

Mason scratched his throat before answering you, he seemed as nervous as you were, and deep down, you were glad for that.

“Hello” he mumbled but you could read his lips. Oh, how you missed his voice.

You took a step towards him, ignoring that everyone was looking at you, and you were lost with the Mason colony around you.

“You good?” You asked and Mason just nodded, but then Reece appeared hugging Mason by the neck and breaking the bad mood between you. He was drunk and you noticed, he was laughing at nothing and holding onto Mason. You smiled, because you had missed him too.

“Oh, did you remember you have friends?” You rolled your eyes and hugged him, feeling Mason's gaze on you. “I missed you, Y/N.”

“I missed you so much, Reece. There is no one like you in Australia.”

“Mason missed you too, but he doesn't tell anyone” Reece whispered in your ear and you smiled, not looking at Mason so he wouldn't realize his friend was talking about him, but before you could do anything, Mason left and went to Declan and Lauren. “He's been a complicated boy these past few months.”

“I fucked up with him and he hates me now” and it was true, Mason probably started to despise you after you were such a bitch to him.

“He loves you, but he is so stubborn ‘cause you hurt him.”

Mason was now on his back, and God, you just wanted to hug him and feel safe again as you felt his arms around you.

Mason ignored you perfectly for a long time, you couldn't get close to him and you didn't know how either. Was it fair to want to talk to him and then leave again? Maybe Mason is just protecting his own heart because you already broke his heart once, it's not right to break his heart again after so many months.

Henry said that he had decided to come to the same club as Aimee ‘cause he wanted to have fun with her and the boys, and you smiled at his confession. Aimee knew he was coming and hadn't told you anything, who thought it would be a girls' night.

“Where's your boyfriend, Y/N?” Declan asked hours later when you were both sitting on the beanbags, the music lower now and you could talk without shouting.

Before you could answer Mason stood up, saying he was going to get a drink from the bar even though the table was full of drink options. You looked at him disappointed ‘cause you wanted to be able to talk to him or tell him that you don't have a boyfriend, and he preferred to leave than hear you talk about another man.

“Our boy Mason is jealous” Reece laughed and you decided to go after Mason, without answering Declan's question.

It wasn't hard to find Mason, he sat in one of the chairs at the counter and had his back to you, so you quickly sat next to him. He noticed when you sat down next to him but didn't say anything, just continued to stare at the untouched drink in front of him.

“Running away is not something you usually do” you said and Mason finally looked at you, raising his eyebrows.

“I used to do a lot of things that I don't do anymore” not that you deserve Mason being rude, but it's clear that Mason still resents you.

“And that's why I know things between us aren't resolved yet” you saw Mason sigh, and you wanted so much to be able to hug him, but if you asked him to he would probably run away from you.

“Yes, everything is resolved. We resolved it when you decided to leave” Mason held the glass and threatened to get up, but you grabbed his arm and stopped him from leaving. “Please let me go, don't make me suffer again.”

“I don't want to make you suffer, Mason, I just want to talk to you for a while” you practically begged him, but Mason was still trying to pull away from you.

“Talk about what? About how my life went to shit after you left? That I was here suffering while you started a new life in fucking Australia? You wanna know about that to laugh at me because I was an idiot?”

“Don’t do that, please” you whispered, because Mason had no idea how much you suffered away from him. You never told him, of course he doesn't know.

“I gave my all to you, Y/N, and that's the worst ‘cause I still love you so much that my heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest” he said looking at you and you felt your own hands tremble, Mason always had that effect on you. “You can't just leave and come back wanting to talk to me like everything is fine, because it's not.”

“Please don't act like it wasn't difficult for me too” You felt your eyes water and Mason shook his head in disbelief.

Because it was really difficult. You spent weeks thinking if you did the right thing, if leaving everything in England was the best option, if ending the best thing that had ever happened to you was the best choice, and there was only one answer in your head.

“Yeah, I know. By the way, where's your boyfriend? Is that why your life was hard in Australia?” Mason asked and drank all the last drink he had ordered. “I went to hell after you moved out, and while you were there enjoying your new life I stayed here because I was dropped off without notice. Don't feel rejected because I don't want you to fuck me again, you rejected me first.”

Mason turned his back and left the club without saying goodbye, leaving you alone with the guilt and regret consuming you.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

You took at least five deep breaths before ringing the bell on the white door in front of you. You also don't know how or why, but your fingerprint was still registered at the entrance to the building where Mason has a flat in London, and after convincing Aimee to tell you if he was there, she finally said yes.

You regretted it the second you rang the doorbell, especially since it was only seven thirty in the morning, but you had been up all night and would go crazy if you didn't go there. You raised your finger to press the doorbell again but heard a grumble coming from the other side of the door, and you hated yourself ‘cause you probably woke Mason up.

He opened the door wearing only underwear and a crumpled face. You swallowed hard.

“Y/n?” He spoke in a hoarse voice, and before he could tell you to leave, you entered the apartment cause you needed to talk to him. “Is there something wrong?”

Mason closed the door and looked at you, waiting for you to answer. You took another deep breath, but it still wasn't enough to make you less nervous.

“It was difficult for me too, it still is” Mason raised his eyebrow. “Don't think that just because I never said what you wanted to hear, I didn't feel anything, I just knew that our time together had an end date and there was nothing to change that.”

“Look, I don’t want to-”

“You’re gonna listen to me, Mason” you stopped Mason from speaking, and then he kept looking at you. “It's not fair for you to say that I didn't suffer, because no one was in Australia with me to know that, you don't know how many nights I cried on the phone with Aimee wanting to give up everything to go back to England and to you.”

“And I don't care if you think I don't care about you, but know that you were one of the best things that ever happened to me and you can't treat me badly like you treated me yesterday, it's not fair to me either” you stopped for two seconds to breathe, and Mason looked at you without saying anything. “You know how much I always wanted this job, Mason, and you can't imagine how much it hurts me to realize that I'm gone and I was much happier here than I am in Australia.”

A tear fell from your face and you wiped it away, Mason brought his hands to his face and sighed, taking a step towards you, but you stopped him from getting closer.

“I'm not here to ask you for forgiveness, I just needed to say a few things.”

And you were gone as quickly as you arrived, leaving Mason and his own thoughts alone.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

Mason felt like shit for the rest of the day, mainly ‘cause he knew he treated you badly. The problem is that Mason gave you everything, and when he least expected it, you broke his heart into pieces.

Those were terrible months, Mason was training, he was irritated with everyone and especially on the field, which caused him to be sent off and made the coach discuss with him. Mason spent months without sleeping through the night, got drunk at every party he went to, and even spent weeks without talking to his own family so no one would ask about you.

Aimee and Henry's wedding is tomorrow and Mason would rather be anywhere but there. He can't even imagine what it's going to be like to see you so beautiful and in a relationship with another man who's oceans away, but Mason knows it's going to be very difficult.

“Why do you have such a shitty face?” Declan asked as he took the beer Mason handed him, and Mason had been quiet for minutes while they were watching an old football match that was on the television.

“Y/N came here this morning” Mason spoke softly and threw himself onto the couch, sighing as he remembered the words you spoke to him. “I feel like shit again, bro.”

“You've been feeling like shit for eight months, my friend” Mason rolled his eyes, but he couldn't disagree. You came back and turned over all the feelings that Mason thought were gone, when in fact they were stored and emerged to squeeze his heart again.

And he knows that in a few days you'll be gone again, he knows it'll be shit again and it'll be another eight months to forget everything.

“I feel like we haven't ended things between us yet, but I'm not ready for that. Man, I love her so much, she's gonna kill me again” Mason confessed, and for months he hadn't talked about you to anyone but Aimee. His mother would always ask, but Mason wouldn't talk about it to her, or anyone else.

The funniest thing was that even the fans said that there was something wrong with Mason, but he always said that everything was fine while putting that sadness deeper in his heart.

“Don't let her bring you down again then” Declan said it like it was obvious, but it was easy for him because he had Lauren, Jude and he was happy.

“It's not that simple.”

“Make it so.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“You look so pretty, I'm gonna ruin my makeup from crying this much” you said as you shook your eyes to stop crying as you looked at Aimee in the wedding dress. “I have never seen such a beautiful bride.”

“Please, stop, you're making me emotional and I can't cry” Aimee said looking at the ceiling, and then you approached and hugged her, saying once again how beautiful she was. “You look beautiful too, that color looks wonderful on you.”

“I know, I really look good in blue” you joked, and she laughed as the two of you checked to make sure everything was ready for Aimee to get married. “Let's check if we have everything.”

Aimee agreed and went to the window to see the place where the ceremony was taking place. All the guests were already there and in a few minutes it would be her turn. The day was beautiful, and everything was perfect. You walked over to the window, looking down at where the guests were sitting, and even without meaning to, your gaze quickly found the person who had been your thoughts for months.

Mason was laughing with Declan and Reece, and he had no way of seeing you there but you could even see his eyes closing as he laughed. He looked so happy, he didn't look like the same sad-hearted man you'd met two days ago, and for a moment you felt good that Mason was smiling.

“Did you talk to him?” Aimee asked, and you nodded.

“He hates me” you shrugged because it's the truth.

“He doesn't hate you, don't be silly, Mason loves you so much, he just didn't know how to deal with you leaving.”

“It doesn't matter now” you wiped away a tear and turned to Aimee, smiling at her. “So, something old?”

“My grandmother's earrings” Aimee pointed to her grandmother's gold earrings, and they really were beautiful.

“Something new?”

“My dress.”

“Something borrowed?”

“My shoe.”

“Something blue?”

“The sexy lingerie I'm wearing underneath.”

“Oh, spare me the details” you rolled your eyes, and then smiled nervously ‘cause the time was finally coming. Aimee's father came in to call her and you finally left, but not before wishing her good luck.

You went down to where the ceremony would be and greeted a few people, some surprised and happy that you were back in England. Lauren waved and called you over, so you quickly walked over to her, sighing because Mason was there too. You felt your hands sweat as you walked down the hallway, as well as your heart racing.

“Hey guys” you said and almost groaned when you saw that the empty seat Lauren had saved was next to Mason. “Is this place for me?”

Mason looked at you and you almost forgot how to walk, because he had this effect on you, making you nervous with just a look. He was so handsome, he looked like he was ready for his own wedding. You quickly looked away from him, but Mason didn't stop looking at you for a second.

“Sure” Lauren smiled and you wanted to kill her. You sat next to Mason, controlling your breathing, and even so he didn't stop looking at you, leaving you blushing.

“You're drooling man, control yourself” Reece spoke softly to Mason, and Mason cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, making RJ laugh. You were talking to Lauren because you had nothing to talk about with Mason, but his cologne was all around you, making you drunk by the smell of the perfume he had been using for years.

Everyone cried or got emotional when Aimee walked in, especially Henry who cried like a baby when he saw her walking towards him. You and Lauren were almost sobbing throughout the ceremony, and Declan was already laughing at you.

When they said their vows was when you and Mason looked at each other, and a racing heart because of his deep gaze on you made you come closer and hold his arm, leaning your face against his suit in a loving way, and it was the closest to love you had come in eight months.

Because Mason means love to you, and not even so many months apart have changed that.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“I'm nervous, I forgot the speech paper” you whispered to Anthony, Aimee's brother, and he shrugged with a laugh.

“Not my problem, Y/N, I've already said my speech.”

“Okay, I can do this” you took a deep breath and he helped you climb onto a chair. Everyone had already eaten dinner and everything was so spectacular, it would be a wonderful night for your best friend.

You trembled as you saw all the eyes on you, but you held the microphone and smiled to pretend you weren't nervous.

“I wrote some words on a piece of paper but I forgot the paper at home, so I'll have to improvise, I hope the bride and groom don't mind” everyone laughed at what you said and you felt your cheeks heat up, speaking in public wasn't very easy, speaking at a wedding was even worse. “I remember the day Aimee came to me when we were in college a few years ago and said she met the coolest guy in the world and I said "impossible, no man is the coolest in the world" and yet she said he was.”

“In fact Henry, you proved that you are really a very nice guy and Aimee was right, ‘cause she shines when she looks at you, just like we can see in your eyes how much you love her. I could tell you all about some of the embarrassing moments of the two of them, but I prefer to talk about love cause I think everyone would like to hear it.”

“I once asked my mom how she knew my stepdad was the right person for her and she told me it had to be someone special. It's a person who doesn't mind being silent by your side because they know that everything is fine even without talking. It's someone who makes you happy just by remembering that person for a minute of the day or the whole day. It's someone who doesn't judge you, doesn't embarrass you or devalue what you feel.”

Even without wanting to, your gaze fell on Mason, and he was staring at you on top of that chair with a microphone in your hand. He was paying attention to every word that came out of your mouth and you almost lost focus because it hurt so much knowing that you would never have him in your life again.

“You two are each other's special person. I'm sure everyone here has someone special, and it's worth dropping everything when you know you have someone by your side to love you and go through everything with you, because that's how love works.”

Your eyes filled with tears and you had to stop looking at Mason ‘cause even he got teary-eyed listening to you. You looked at Aimee and she was crying and trying not to ruin her makeup as she ran her hand over her eyes, and Henry next to her smiled as he wiped a tear that ran down his face too.

You also had to wipe away the tear that ran down your face.

“Here's to Aimee and Henry. May their lives be wonderful” you raised your glass of champagne and everyone raised their own, toasting to their new life together. Anthony helped you down from the chair and you quickly went to your seat, but in reality you wanted to go out and cry.

Mason didn't take his eyes off you and you started to feel suffocated, especially since he hadn't even wanted to come near you for two days and he still left you in pieces when you tried to talk to him.

“I've never heard such beautiful words, Y/N” Aimee Aimee hugged you and you smiled, still with tears in your eyes. “Thank you for coming, thank you for being my best friend. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Aim.”

You didn't even make it to the table because everyone stopped to congratulate you on your beautiful speech, and when you finally got there, Mason was no longer there.

“Where is he?” you asked RJ, and he said that Mason had gone to the bathroom, before anyone could stop you again, you went to look for him.

You waited a few minutes before Mason came out of the bathroom and saying that he was surprised to see you waiting for him was nothing new. You stared at each other for a few seconds before another guy came out of the bathroom and you and Mason had to break contact, so you pulled him by the hand and walked down the hallway until you found another door.

Mason didn't say anything as he followed you, and when you saw that it was a warehouse and there was no one there, you went in and pulled Mason with you, pushing him against the wall.

“I love you” you whispered and Mason's eyes widened, shocked because he finally heard the three words he wanted to hear so much. Maybe it was too late and you would never be together again, but at least you got your feelings off your chest and told Mason. “Oh my God, I love you.”

“What?” Mason put his hand over his mouth, not wanting to show his smile, but he was smiling so much it was impossible to hide it. “I didn't hear.”

“I love you, I love you, I love-.” You had never felt such relief when Mason reached out and pulled your mouth against his.

Kissing Mason is like Christmas morning, or the morning of your birthday or the birthday of someone you love. Feeling Mason's arms is like feeling like nothing in the world can bring you down ‘cause you have someone protecting you from everything and ready to fight with you.

“Does he ask to hold your hand?” Mason whispered and then kissed you again, and you couldn't respond because you were busy feeling the wonderful taste of his lips. “I bet he doesn't kiss you like I do.”

Mason held you with both hands on your neck, and then he brought his hand to the back of your neck and grabbed your hair, making you pull your mouth away from his and look at him.

Why did he have to be so handsome?

And that stupid blond hair, that made you want to take his clothes off completely.

The look on your face was probably desperate with desire ‘cause Mason smiled and ran his tongue over his lips, staring at your mouth.

“No” you confessed, feeling Mason smile. “You're the only one who knows how to touch me and how to love me.”

Mason smiled when you responded and pulled your mouth against his once more, wrapping his arm around your neck and holding you against him. It was okay, you didn't want to be anywhere else but in his arms.

Mason pushed you against the wall and you gasped ‘cause his body against yours gave you protection. How did you manage to go so many months without him? You only knew one home, and that was next to Mason.

You'll never be able to live in Australia alone again.

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

“Are you ready for a wedding?” Mason asked as he kissed your skin, and he whispered it because of the blue panties you were wearing. You weren't discreet when you left the wedding together and you heard your friends cheering when they saw you get into Mason's car, and you hadn't been able to stop smiling for hours, ever since he kissed you for the first time. “Something blue…”

You sighed as Mason showered you with kisses, you were numb with his body on top of yours. You didn't know how much you had missed this, these moments with Mason where you completed each other like soulmates, because only he knew how to drive you crazy.

“There is still something borrowed and something old missing” you said, closing your eyes and bringing your hands to Mason's hair. His breath was on your groin and you almost moaned, because you were tired but you needed Mason so much that you felt like you were going to explode. “But we can think about it.”

“I don't want you to think about anything but me right now, love.”

✦‎۟ ࣭ ⊹

It's been a month since you got back to Australia and you and Mason have been trying to keep things at arm's length, but it's really hard because when you're waking up, Mason's going to sleep or when you're working, Mason's waking up.

But ever since you set foot in England again, you knew that this was where you belonged, and when you returned to Australia, you didn't think twice when you asked for a transfer again.

Your boss agreed and said that you could get the same position in England, but you would have to wait a few weeks for all the paperwork to be ready. No one knew you were coming back because it would be a surprise to both Mason and his mom or his friends.

And at that moment you were at Manchester airport ‘cause the first place you were going was home. Mason. You don't even know if he's at home, if he's training, he might even be with someone else there and you feel like you might faint when you think about it.

It's already getting dark and cold, but you’re at an Uber with the only two suitcases of stuff you'd taken to Australia with you. The car dropped you off in front of Mason's house and if you weren't so nervous you would roll your eyes at the size of the place.

You rang the bell at the gate and after a few rings you heard a bark and raised your eyebrows, because you didn't know Mason had a dog.

“Hello?” His voice was hoarse and you almost cried, you were missing him so much it was making you sick.

“Hi, were you the one who asked for a girlfriend?” you were smiling and everything was silent for a few seconds until you saw the door to the house open quickly. Mason ran barefoot on the wet grass and you couldn't stop the tears from falling down your face.

“What the fuck? Are you insane?” Mason pulled you against him, lifting you off the ground as you jumped against him and wrapping your legs around his hips. “I thought you were in Australia, my god I missed you so much. I love you, I love you” Mason whispered and squeezed you, without letting you go.

“I love you, I'll never leave, never again” you cried as you hugged him, trying to hold onto Mason everywhere so he would never let you go again. “You are my home Mason, I'm sorry for everything, I know I don't deserve it but I just want to be with you forever.”

“I can't believe you're back, I'm dreaming” Mason finally let go of you and put you on the ground, then he pulled you in and kissed you after more than a month away from your lips. “You're still going to kill me by doing these things to me.”

Mason pulled your bags and pointed to the entrance of the house, and you walked as he pulled your things. You stopped when a puppy ran out of the house towards you, and you bent down to pet it.

“Oh my God, we already have a child?” you joked and Mason just smiled and crouched down to be close to you. The puppy jumped on your legs and then ran to Mason, who petted his fur.

“This is Ace, he’s a boy and he has been my new company since you left me alone.”

“Ahh, poor boy, he had to put up with you crying for long weeks.”

“His mommy is home now” you stood up and looked at Mason, kissing him once more.

“My home is wherever you are.”

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artsymeeshee · 3 days

Note

I’m about to spam your account with likes and I apologize in advance for that but I’ve had autistic burnout/been in a bad headspace for a few weeks now and your art just genuinely makes me really happy?

The AroAce Ford stuff makes me feel seen in a way I don’t really get elsewhere and the happy Sea Grunks and general family bonding just gives me such a sense of…security? If that makes sense? I’m rambling now, I’m sorry, I just wanted you to know how much your work means to me. It’s like a warm blanket.

- K, a very tired autistic AroAce who loves Ford Pines

;w; Thank you so much!

I’m glad my art has been a huge source of comfort. It has for me as well, which explains all the wholesomeness I’ve been drawing lately haha.

Aroace Ford will forever hold a special place in my heart. He’s been a great reminder whenever creeping doubts come up about being aroace personally, so it’s always nice to see people get the same sentiment.

#ask #toomanyfandomstowrite

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ninjatrashpanda · 2 days

Text

The Other Shoe (Waiting for it to drop)

Written for @bucktommypositivityweek Round 2! Today's prompt is "Coming Out Scenes!"

Read it on AO3 here.

“I, uh, I think it’s time to face the music,” Buck whispered, tugging on Tommy’s sleeve. His eyes wandered over to his parents, who had watched him and Tommy like hawks throughout the entire reception, though Buck had a hard time predicting what they were thinking. On one hand, therapy had been going well, and while The Buckleys would probably never be the big happy family Buck had wished for as a kid, Mom and Dad were trying. They had been nothing but supportive about him being Connor and Kameron’s sperm donor last year, and Buck would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt a pang of appreciation when they had stood up for him against Chimney’s father and stepmother.

On the other hand, well, these were his parents, and old fears die hard. While they had apologized for how they had treated him and Maddie and become better, there was a little voice at the back of his head that told him they’d just be disappointed again. The fact that his mother hadn’t managed to get rid of the bewildered look on her face since he had dragged Tommy into Chimney’s hospital room didn’t help.

“Should I be scared?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

Buck chuckled, though it sounded more like a nervous exhale. He stole another glance at his parents, then shifted his gaze to the floor, kicking at an imaginary speck of dust. “Nah,” he said, though he admittedly wasn’t even able to convince himself of that. “Not scared. Just... prepared.”

Tommy followed Buck’s gaze across the room, where Buck’s parents stood stiffly by a wall, half-empty champagne flutes clutched tightly in their hands. Buck knew they had been mingling just a few minutes ago, but he still couldn’t help but feel that they looked, well, out of place. While they were nothing but polite, they didn’t really mesh with anyone else, and always seemed a little awkward.

“They don’t seem like they bite,” Tommy observed, in that casual, dry tone Buck had grown to appreciate over the past few weeks. In an instant, a part of his anxiety evaporated and bubbled to the surface in a barely held back snort.

“Not literally, no.” Buck ran a hand through his hair with a shake of his head, the slight smile Tommy had brought to his face staying on his face. “It’s just... history, you know? They’re trying, and I get that, I do. But sometimes it’s like...” He trailed off with a shrug, struggling to find the right words. “It’s like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Tommy nodded, his hand reaching out to squeeze Buck’s. Buck had told him the basics, how Maddie had practically raised him, how their parents had been neglectful and controlling. He vaguely knew about Daniel, too, though Buck hadn’t delved into the whole Savior Baby thing yet. The subject was…touchy, to say the least, and while he knew he had to breach it at some point, he wanted Tommy to have as neutral an opinion on his parents as possible. They were putting in the effort, so Buck figured they deserved that much.

“Well,” Tommy said, squeezing Buck’s hand again, a bit firmer this time, “if things get weird, you’ve got me for backup. Just say the word, and I’ll distract them with my fake mouth static.”

Buck couldn’t help but let out a genuine laugh at that, which surprised even himself. Tommy had a knack for diffusing tension, and Buck was grateful for it. It was one of the reasons he had gravitated toward him in the first place. He tightened his grip on Tommy’s hand, drawing strength from the contact, before letting go and straightening up.

“Good idea. You’re renowned for your fake mouth static after all.”

“Damn right I am.”

They stood there for a moment, neither quite willing to take the first step towards the inevitable conversation. The reception was starting to wind down, (because the nurses were kicking people out now) so at least if this developed into a scene, not too many people would end up seeing. Chimney, now recovering well after the whole viral encephalitis debacle, was in high spirits, chatting animatedly with Hen and Karen. Maddie was close by his side, smiling brighter than he had ever seen, seemingly refusing to let go of her new husband’s arm.

The love between them gave Buck a tiny surge of courage. If Maddie and Chimney could find happiness after everything they had been through, then maybe things could work out with his and Maddie’s parents too.

“Alright,” Buck said, straightening his posture, bracing himself for impact. “Let’s do this.”

They crossed the room together, Tommy a step behind Buck, offering silent support. Buck’s parents straightened as he approached, their faces neutral masks. They clearly didn’t know how to react, and Buck could hardly blame them for that.

“Hi,” Buck said, forcing a smile. “You probably have a few questions.”

His mother’s eyes softened, but there was still a glimmer of uncertainty in them. His father cleared his throat, his grip on the champagne flute tightening just slightly. The atmosphere was stiff, and the air felt thick enough to cut it with a knife.

“Hi, Buck,” his mother replied, her voice wavering just a bit. Buck was actually (positively) surprised that she used his nickname, though he had to admit it sounded almost foreign in her voice. “Yes, we, uh…” She glanced at his father, who nodded, urging her to continue. “We do have some questions, but—”

“We don’t want to push,” his father interjected, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. “We’re just… trying to understand.”

Buck nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. They weren’t throwing accusations and bad faith arguments around, so that was a good start. Still, Buck knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. He hadn’t spoken about the big B yet, after all.

“Yeah,” Buck said, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite outgrown. “I figured. And, uh, it’s okay to ask. I know this is… a lot.”

He could see the moment his mother tried to put on a brave face, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “We were surprised, that’s all,” she said. “When you came into the room with…”

She trailed off, her eyes moving over Buck’s shoulder to where he knew Tommy stood just a foot or two behind him. He took a deep breath. This was it. No going back. He had thought about it for weeks at this point, had said it out loud to himself in the mirror, but not to anybody else, not even Maddie or Tommy.

“Tommy.” He turned slightly, reaching out his hand out to Tommy, who took it into his own with a smile as he stepped up. “Mom, Dad, this is Tommy Kinard. He’s my date. He, uh… he’s the reason I figured out that I’m bisexual.”

The words hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. Buck could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the sound of his blood rushing through his ears almost deafening. He knew this moment was pivotal (one of the most important in his life, probably) and the weight of it pressed down on him like the world on Atlas’ shoulders.

His parents exchanged glances, and Buck could see an onslaught of emotions flitting across their faces: surprise, confusion, and perhaps a flicker of something that could be hope. His mother’s fingers tightened around the stem of her champagne flute, and his father took a small step closer to her.

Tommy, for his part, stayed by Buck’s side, his presence a quiet but powerful anchor. He gave Buck’s hand a reassuring squeeze, a silent promise that he was here, and that he wouldn’t leave. Buck was grateful for that; it reminded him that no matter what was going to happen, he wasn’t alone.

His mother was the first to speak. “Bisexual,” she repeated, as if testing the word on her tongue. Her brow furrowed slightly, but there was no trace of anger or disappointment in her tone. Instead, she seemed...curious. “I…well, I didn’t expect that.”

Buck could see his father’s jaw tighten momentarily before he let out a slow breath. “Buck,” he began, his voice careful, deliberate. “This is…this is a lot to take in. But I want you to know that we’re listening. We’re trying to understand.”

Buck nodded. This wasn’t a rejection, not outright. But it wasn’t exactly acceptance either, not yet, at least. Still, it was something, and in this moment, something was better than nothing.

“I know it’s a lot,” Buck said, his voice quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to get it all at once. I only figured it out a few weeks ago, too. I just wanted you to know, because…because it’s who I am. And Tommy… he’s important to me.”

His mother’s eyes softened at that, and Buck could see her shifting, recalibrating her thoughts, trying to process this new piece of information about her son. “Tommy,” she said, as if tasting the name for the first time. She looked at him then, really looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that was almost…gentle. “It’s nice to meet you, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, his usual confidence replaced by an almost shy nervousness. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Buckley. And Mr. Buckley,” he added, nodding respectfully toward Buck’s father.

Buck’s father gave a small nod in return, though his expression remained unreadable. “Tommy,” he repeated, his voice a bit more measured. “You’re… Buck’s boyfriend?”

Buck sucked in a sharp breath. Obviously that question would come up. He should’ve been prepared for it, but he wasn’t. He and Tommy hadn’t even really had that conversation. He’d certainly like for Tommy to be his boyfriend, he just wasn’t sure if Tommy was at that point yet. It had only been a few weeks after all. They had been on four dates, one of which was a complete disaster, and another that hadn’t even been a date at first, but an apology for the date that had been a complete disaster.

“Yeah,” Tommy said, his tone steady. “I’m his boyfriend. And I know this might be surprising, but Evan…he means a lot to me. I care about him.”

Buck’s breath hitched in his throat. He hadn’t expected Tommy to say it outright. He had expected a lighthearted “Not yet” or “We’re seeing each other.” That he’d gone right ahead… Buck’s heart swelled just a little bit. He squeezed Tommy’s hand a little tighter, grateful beyond words. Tommy’s answer made Buck just a little braver.

Finally, his mother spoke again. “I…I see,” she said, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. She looked at Buck, her eyes searching his, as if trying to reconcile the son she knew with these new things she was learning about him. “And you… you’re happy?”

Buck felt a lump rise in his throat. It was such a simple question, but it carried so much baggage. She wasn’t asking if he was happy with Tommy. She was asking if he was happy with himself, something that would’ve been absolutely unthinkable just three years ago.

“I am,” Buck replied, his voice growing more assured. “I’m happy, Mom. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

His mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and she nodded slowly, as if coming to a decision within herself. She reached out then, tentatively, her hand hovering in the air for a moment before she placed it on Buck’s arm. “That’s all we want, Buck,” she whispered, her voice wavering a little. “We just want you to be happy.”

His father, who had been silent for most of the exchange, cleared his throat again. “It’s…a lot to adjust to,” he admitted, his voice gruff but not unkind. “But if this is who you are, and if this man makes you happy, then…well, we’ll do our best to understand.”

Buck felt a surge of relief wash over him, so powerful that it nearly knocked him off his feet. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it was something. Something good. It was yet another step toward healing their relationship, and for that, he was grateful.

“Thank you,” Buck said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for not, like, freaking out.”

His father gave a small nod, and his mother’s hand tightened on his arm, a silent reassurance that they were, in fact, trying. Tommy smiled and wrapped his arm around Buck’s shoulders, Buck leaning into his side almost automatically, enjoying the warmth of their connection.

His mother glanced over at Tommy, her expression softening further. “You’re welcome to join us for dinner before we fly back to Hershey, Tommy,” she said, a small, tentative smile tugging at her lips. “We’d like to get to know you better.”

Tommy’s eyes widened at the invitation, and Buck didn’t blame him. It was already unusual that Tommy had met his parents this early, but getting invited to family dinner? That was big. “I’d love to, Mrs. Buckley. Thank you.”

Buck’s father gave a curt nod, not quite ready to add anything further, but his stance had relaxed just a little. There was still a long way to go, a lot of conversations to be had, but in that moment, Buck knew they were moving in the right direction.

As the reception continued to wind down, Buck stood there with Tommy by his side, his parents before him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt a cautious sense of optimism. The journey ahead would be challenging, there was no doubt about that, but they were all still here, still trying, and that was more than Buck could have hoped for when he first approached them.

As they exchanged a few more words, lighter now, less fraught with tension, Buck realized that this was what he had been waiting for all along. Not just acceptance, but the willingness to grow, to move forward together. And maybe that was enough to help the wounds of the past heal.

#911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #evan buckley #tommy kinard #margaret buckley #phillip buckley #bucktommypositivityweek #bucktommy fanfic #fanfic

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cloudysarts · 3 days

Note

Hi there!!

I want to say that your “Mabel’s muse” Au concept has absolutely called my attention, Bill mentions multiple times (Dipper and Mabel’s guide to mystery and fun and TBOB) how he likes Mabel’s personality and wanted her to be his ally…sooo the idea of an alternative time where he decided to approach her and where she trusts him and considers him as her friend is absolutely full of potential

I just think about how many stuff would change and how bill would be a little more genuine with her as he for once isn’t pretending to be an all-wise being and having to constantly rise the ego of Genius minds…instead he just has to party with a teenager whose idea of fun is quite similar to his…he doesn’t have to be the “supreme being” for once just a silly fella in order to earn Mabel’s trust

Also about how some episodes would have to take a completely different route:

maybe “Mindscapers” wouldn’t even take place…because I doubt that Mabel would trust a Bill if he went inside Stan’s head

Bill possessing her during the “sock opera”episode instead of dipper

Also don’t get me started on “the last Mabelcorn” episode. All the angst and horror that Ford would feel when he finds out about the whole friendship with bill situation reflecting himself on Mabel and probably Dipper being the one who search for the unicorn hair while ford tries to convince her that Bill isn’t trustworthy

I apologize for my rant but I seriously love your idea and sorry if it’s a bit confusing English isn’t my first language

I hope you have a nice day and thank you for reading this silly thing!!

first of all, your english is great!! second of all, i am SO sorry it took me so long to respond to this ask, it just made me so happy that i wanted to take my time to craft a response!!!!!! :DDDD (context: for people who don't know what my 'mabels muse' au is, you can check it out over here!)

you are practically SPOT ON with my ideas for this au!!!!!! but i'm gonna briefly run through all the things you brought up!!

first of all, yes, absolutely!!!! for bill, partner-ing up with mabel was a very nice change of pace. he likes stroking the ego's of genius', just for his own amusement, but he doesnt get the THRILL of just getting to PLAY very often!! he's a very childish being, at the end of the day. he enables mabel's selfishness, while getting to indulge his own, silly passions right alongside her!! and obviously, mabel LOVES being enabled <3 i imagine most of the dreams he gives her would make any normal persons eyes bleed

as for your episode ideas, you're mostly right!!! :) mindscaperers does, in fact, NOT happen in this au. in my head, i imagine gideon trying to summon him, only for an 'I.O.U' to appear where bill should be. he's busy hanging out with his favorite pre-teen!!! so gideon skips straight to his backup plan, aka, gideon rises ^^

for sock opera, i'm still on the fence a little bit. one of the reasons bill is hanging out with her at all in this au is because, unlike in the regular timeline, this bill actively wants stanford to be brought home. the reason mabel is important to him, is because he can see timelines where she presses the button in not what he seems, and keeps him from returning. in his mind, he has the greatest shot of success if mabel doesn't press it. in this au, she doesnt even hesitate to trust stan, because she has another, trustworthy voice in her head, yelling DON'T PRESS THE BUTTON. its 2v1! ANYWAY, the reason any of that matters for sock opera, is because he wouldnt have any need to possess anyone, because he has no interest in smashing the laptop! BUT.....i can see him doing it anyway. i figure, most likely, he gets mabel to (willingly) let him use her body, so that she can work on her sock opera while her body sleeps. i just imagine a bill-possessed mabel up at 3 am, covered in hot glue and googly eyes as he tries to work it out shjdkfhjsdkf. but......honestly, he probably destroys the laptop in the process :) just to fuck with dipper <3 not that dipper ever finds out its her. he has no idea that mabel was ever possessed/has no reason to suspect her, because at this point, he still doesnt think bill is real. that is....until the last mabelcorn.

IN the last mabelcorn, mabel reveals to ford that she does recognize bill, and that he lives in her brain! she says it really excitedly, at the table, while dipper kind of just rolls his eyes about it. to her, its vindicating, because it's the first time anyone has ever acknowledged bills existence. but to ford, its HORRIFYING, because he knows it isn't just a coincidence. he knows he has to do something, but he doesn't know what, right away. this is where our ideas differ a little bit, because i think that mabel still WOULD be the one retrieving the unicorn hair! ford just didnt tell her what the hair was for. ford sends her off, because he wants to brainstorm a way to get him out of her head, preferably without hurting her/her memories. he also plans to bill-proof dippers mind in the process, just in case mabel is too far gone already. the events here happen basically the same (with minor tweaks), but instead of dipper suspecting that ford is evil/bill-possessed, this is where he finally learns that bill is real at all. ford tells him about his backstory, and explains the REAL reason he sent mabel out to get the unicorn hair, etc etc. he loves mabel a lot, but hes not sure how to go about dealing with this situation yet. its not HER fault she trusted bill, but he knew that if he just tries to tell her hes evil, she wont believe him. shes known 'her muse' longer, and as of right now, he's never lead her wrong. just like what happened to him in the past...

i wonder how mabel would feel if she only heard the end of that conversation...

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primofate · 2 days

Note

hey my love, i really really like your ruthless prince. just read it after i got into genshin like 3 months ago, amazing!

but i do have to tell you that you’re not allowed to publish the book, especially to sell it for profit. it’s fanfiction, based on something that is copyrighted. the only reason fanfiction is allowed to exist is because the people who make it don’t get any money from it. what you’re doing is illegal and could get you into serious trouble. for your own sake please leave it on platforms that are free.

it’s not fun but that’s just how it works. i’m in my first year of studying law so if you have any questions i can try and answer them however i might have to refer to outside sources rather than off the top of my head. i apologize for this but i wouldn’t feel right knowing what i did and not saying anything to warn you.

I really hope you come back to my blog and read this.

You are probably the 100th person to come on here and tell me what I'm doing is illegal.

I usually don't get pissed at comments like this but it gets tiring when you get messages like this nearly monthly. AND THEN you're here preaching to me as if I don't know crap. For you to say that you study law and that you're going to try and answer any questions I have...??? Ummmmmm... No thank you.

I think YOU'RE the one who should read up first before sending people things like this.

Here you go: https://www.theverge.com/2021/11/12/22777194/genshin-impact-fanfiction-merchandise-rules-creators

If you don't know where to read, I screenshotted the most important part for you:

MIHOYO ALLOWS FANFICTION TO BE SOLD.

Hope that's clear to you. Some of you really don't know how self-important y'all sound.

Have a good day!

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barefoot-joker · 7 hours

Text

Snake in the Garden Pt 5~Yandere!Lucifer X Reader

Hey, guys! Welcome back to Snake in the Garden! I do apologize for my long absence. College has started back up; my depression has been kicking my butt and writing block for this chapter were just a few reasons for the delay. However, I'm back with a bang! I highly recommend reading the warnings on this chapter as it does get a bit intense. Oh, and from the bottom of my heart: thank you all so much for supporting this fanfiction! I cherish every like, reblog and read every comment posted on each chapter. I plan to have multiple parts after this one, so I hope you stay. Also, the taglist is open, so if you'd like to be added don't hesitate to comment! As always, have a great day/night and enjoy part five!

Words: 9626

Warnings: Swearing (more than usual), Non-Con Touching, Non-Con Kissing, Non-Con Sexual Advances/Harassment, Reader is forced to wear skimpy clothes, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Body Horror, Lots of Blood, Various Characters gain Trauma from Lucifer, Lucifer goes into Beast Mode, Lucifer's Obsession goes off the rails, Possessive treatment to Reader, Talk of hanging by snake, Kidnapping, Talk of watching someone die, Major Yandere Behavior from Lucifer, Reader gets Pushed Around, Reader gets put in a Cell, Degrading Name Calling-mainly to Reader, Talk of Cannibalism, Reference to Disturbing use of Body Parts, Talk of Sexual Actions, Talk of Drinking Blood, Reader Suffers Abundantly in this Chapter, Seriously who gave Lucifer a Sword

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I gasped and my eyes widened as I stared at the two beings in my living room. The one who spoke was a larger man. He appeared to have a dad bod underneath his white, purple and gold robe. The black mask he wore had two large horns attached and his golden facial features held a smug look. Behind him stood a female. She too wore a black mask, her horns curled inwards. She appeared to be wearing a black tunic with black skin tight pants and light gray thigh high boots to match. The crude white stitched mouth scowled at me, almost acting like I was wasting her time. I gulped, both sets of eyes watching me like a hawk. “W-who are you? What do you want?”

The masked man set down his bag of Doritos (which I realized were from my cupboard) and offered a hand. “The name’s Adam, sweetheart. I’m the First Man.”

I looked down at his hand and then back at him. He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “If you’re the First Man, does that mean that Lucifer sent you to come get me?”

I stepped back in fear as he cackled, holding his stomach. “Heavens no! I hate that son of a bitch!”

I lowered my guard a bit. “If you’re not with him, why are you here?”

Adam stopped laughing and brushed his robe. “I’ve come to take you to Heaven with me.”

“But I have no business there. I’m not even dead!”

“I can grant you permission. Let’s say it's one of the perks of being a celebrity.”

He pointed his fingers at me as if they were guns and he clicked his tongue. I looked between him and his companion. She tilted her head towards her master as if to say take his hand. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Come on! Lucifer can’t touch you while you’re on Holy ground. And I have a funny feeling he’d like to get his claws on you, if you know what I’m saying.”

I cringed in disgust at what he was implying. “Besides, I can be your bodyguard! I have special privileges being famous after all. And my wingspan is bigger than Lucifers!”

I looked down at my engagement ring. The snake seemed to coil tight around my finger as the eye glimmered, daring me to trust in the Heavenly man’s words. I bit my lip and looked up at him, his female companion now by his side. The sword at her side glinted and I could picture it ramming into my fiance. I could see the light leave his eyes and blood spill down his snow white skin. The betrayal would show on his face as it had mine when he took me to Hell. I felt my lips twitch into a smile as I realized that maybe, just maybe, these two were my allies. My eyes met Adam’s and I gave a quick nod. “I’ll go with you.”

His smile curled up by his eyes. “Good choice, babe. Lute prepare the portal.”

“Yes, sir.”

The woman stepped forward and raised her sword to the sky. She began to draw a symbol that looked like a cross and chanted under her breath. “In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, let these three souls enter Heaven freely.”

As soon as she finished, gold mist began to circle the ceiling. It began to sprinkle down around us, causing me to sneeze. “Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

I looked up and was amazed to see a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds. Sunlight streamed down and it felt warm on my skin. “It’s ready, sir.”

“C’mon, babe! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!”

“Wait!”

I brought my fingers around my ring and forced it off. Relief flooded my body as I set it on the coffee table and I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I was finally free. “I’m ready now.”

I let out a squeak as he hoisted me up by my waist, his hand traveling a bit low to my butt. I didn’t have much time to think about it because his golden wings opened up and pushed us upwards. The wind from the angel’s wings swept my hair and I couldn’t help but let out a gasp. Even on a bright sunny day on Earth that sky couldn’t compare to Heaven’s. The blue of the sky was a bright baby blue and the clouds were the purest of white. I reached out a hand and laughed at how light the cloud felt passing through my fingers. “Beautiful isn’t it,” Adam questioned.

“It’s better than I could have ever imagined!”

“This isn’t even the best part.”

I focused my gaze ahead of us and my eyes widened. I could see a patch of clouds with bright pastel colored buildings, almost too bright to stare at. We landed on said patch and the mist surrounding the area brushed away, bowing to the First Man. Adam set me down and I was hesitant to place my full weight down. The cloud itself was soft and yet I didn’t fall through. Casting my eyes up, I saw a golden fence stretching a long distance that I couldn’t even begin to see the end of. In the middle was a set of golden doors creating a gate, pearls and diamonds adorning the bars. I gasped as I realized these were the Pearly Gates that people claimed to see as they passed on. As soon as it clicked, a short, blonde haired man with lightly saturated clothes and white wings appeared behind a podium. He flashed a smile with his pearly whites and beckoned us over. “Hiya! Welcome to Heaven! Can I get your name please?”

“Oh, um, Y/n L/n.”

He flipped to the appropriate page in his large book and when he found it he used his index finger to skim through all the names. He muttered under his breath as he searched, his eyebrows wrinkling after a few seconds. “Um, I’m not seeing you on my list. Perhaps you’re in the wrong place-”

“She’s with me, pretty boy.”

Adam crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently. “I told you not to call me that. It’s Saint Peter. Besides, she has to be on my list if she’s passed on. She’s dead, right?”

“No, but-”

“Adam, you can’t just bring living people here! It’s against the rules! Oh my goodness, what if He finds out-”

“He won’t! Now let us in, jackass!”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. I will not get in trouble again for your shenanigans!”

“You listen here-”

“What is going on here?”

All of us looked up to see two females flying down towards us. The one on the left was much taller than the one on the right. Both had gray dresses with purple and white accents. They landed in front of us and I could see them clearly. The one on the left appeared to be an adult woman with dark grayish brown skin. She had gray scaleras with white irises, long winged eyelashes and white freckles below her eyes. Her gray hair was long and was twisted into thick curls. A glowing white crown with blue jewels floated above her head as her black lips set in a frown. The one on the right looked like a child, her skin a lighter grayish brown tone. She too had white freckles under her blue eyes, the irises being an ombre of purple. Her light purple hair reached the hem of her dress and her black lips formed a pout. Both of their six white wings relaxed at their sides. “Sera, tell this dickhead to let us in! He has no right to keep us out here!”

“Sera, he brought in a human! One that has not yet passed on!”

The taller woman, Sera I assumed, raised her hand. “Enough. Let the girl speak on her own terms.”

Everyone turned their gaze towards me and I could feel my stomach twist in knots. My fingers fiddled with the fabric of my nightgown and I found my eyes were more interested in my bare feet. “Um, I’m Y-Y/n. I lived on Earth but Lucifer kidnapped me. He wants me to be his bride.”

I glanced back up at Sera and a shocked expression graced her features. In a second she flipped back to a more relaxed face, her black lips smiling at me. “My child, you have had quite the journey. Come.”

She moved to the side and gestured her hand towards the gate. I looked at Adam and he pushed me forward. “But, Sera-”

“It’s alright, Saint Peter. This is the one exception I will make.”

“Alright.”

He waved his hand and the gate opened, sunlight streaming through. I took a few hesitant steps forward and the four angels followed behind me. The buildings that I saw before glowed in the sunlight and the golden paved road appeared like marble. The two females stepped in front of me, calm smiles on their faces. “How rude of us to not introduce ourselves. I am Sera, the high Seraphim.”

She bowed her head as the child-like angel giggled. She bounced in front of me and was quick to take my hand, shaking it ferociously. “I’m Emily, the other Seraphim! But you can call me Emmy, Em, E, whatever. Welcome to Heaven!”

I smiled and pulled my hand away from her light grip. “Thank you. It feels so surreal being here honestly. I didn’t picture Heaven to look like this.”

“We are quite the close knit community. Everyone is friendly, polite and the nicest of the nice. We pride ourselves on being the best and most innocent of creatures,” Sera said.

“Oh you’re going to like it here, Y/n! We’ve got the most delicious food you’ll ever taste and the beds are like you’re sleeping on a cloud, they’re so soft! You can indulge in any hobby you like and we even have ice cream with rainbow sprinkles!”

I chuckled at Emily’s enthusiasm. “Sounds like fun. Where might I be staying, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You’ll be with me, toots. I have several bedrooms in my bachelor pad.”

Adam wrapped an arm around my shoulder. His fingers played with the strap to my nightgown and I felt a pit in my stomach as he slid it down my shoulder. His black fingers caressed the skin and I couldn’t help the shiver that ran down my spine. I didn’t know what was worse: Lucifer’s gentle touch or Adam’s commanding one. “How about we get you something new to wear. Lute, take Y/n and get her some new clothes. While I enjoy seeing those pretty shins of yours Y/n, I prefer to see them just for myself.”

His fingers slightly dug into my shoulder and I gulped. Was he being possessive or was it just my imagination from being around Lucifer? Lute signaled for me to follow her and as we walked the golden road I wondered if I truly was in a better place. I thought back to Earth and how I longed to be there with S/o. I wondered if he was looking for me or if somehow the Devil made him forget all about me. I held onto the hope that he was searching everywhere, calling everyone he knew and scouring every town in our state. “Hey, pay attention! We’re here.”

“Sorry.”

I hadn’t noticed Lute had opened a wooden oak door and was pointing at it. I walked in and she shut it behind us. I looked around the room as she rummaged through a closet. The purple floor was made to look like tiled marble and the light blue walls were a pastel version of the sky. The bed itself was King size and had purple sheets and blankets to match. A white knit duvet laid over top and the whole thing looked so soft. A nightstand with a purple based lamp stood on either side of the oak headboard, a wooden oak desk stood under a stained glass window, a purple wooden dresser stood next to the door, and the purple closet was next to another wooden door. Lute walked over and threw a pile of clothes at my chest. I looked up at her and could feel the anger behind her mask. “This will be your room. Bathroom is behind that door. Change and roam around as you like. Just don’t disturb Adam or myself. We’re busy people, got it?”

I blinked in shock at her tone. Why was she so displeased with me? It was Adam’s idea to bring me here. When I didn’t answer, she grabbed me by the hair and pulled. I shrieked as searing pain tugged at my scalp. “I said, got it?”

It sounded like she was gritting her teeth. I nodded my head rapidly. “Yes, yes! I got it!”

As she let go, she pushed me and I landed on the edge of the bed. “Just because you're in Heaven doesn’t mean you’ll get Heavenly treatment. You’re only here because Adam said so. If it was my choice, you would still be rotting in Hell being Lucifer’s bitch.”

She scoffed and turned, her heeled boots clicking against the tiled floor. I sat in disbelief even as the door slammed behind Lute. Clearly she despised me. The question was why. It took me a few minutes to get over the awkward exchange, finally looking down at the pile of clothes. Lute had chosen a boring arrangement: a white tank top, a golden jacket that was just the neck, shoulders and puffy sleeves, dark purple puffy harem pants, and black gladiator sandals. While I matched Adam's color scheme, Lute made it so I didn't stand out. I sighed and walked to the other wooden door. Opening it, it did house a bathroom like she said. I stepped in and locked the door behind me. Sure, everyone is supposed to be friendly, but with the way Adam made me feel uncomfortable I was not risking my safety. The bathroom held a toilet, shower, and a white marble counter with a sink. Silently I stripped down and put on the angelic garments. I had to admit while the clothes Lucifer gave me were soft, these felt, well, heavenly. I looked at myself in the mirror above the counter. I looked so pale from receiving no sun down in Hell and my eyebags matched the purple of my pants. I sighed and turned the faucet onto cold water. The frigidness felt nice against my fingertips as I tested the temperature. Satisfied, I splashed water onto my face and rubbed it in thoroughly. I breathed in deep and looked at myself in the mirror once more. My cheeks felt a bit warm from the cool contact, but I felt a bit better nonetheless. Drying my hands on a towel hanging on a metal bar behind me, I unlocked the bathroom door and headed back into the bedroom. As I was trying to figure out where I was going to explore first, I heard two voices. Curious, I stepped to my bedroom door and opened it slowly. Nobody was in the hallway, but I could hear the muffled conversation taking place next to me. Hesitantly, I walked into the hall and to the golden door next to mine. I put my ear up close to the wood. I couldn’t tell exactly who was talking to one another, but from what I knew it sounded like Adam and Sera. “-can’t believe you would bring her here, Adam! Do you know how dangerous your actions are?!”

“Chill out, drama queen. Nothing is going to fucking happen, okay.”

“You don’t know what Lucifer is capable of.”

“The motherfucker hides during the exterminations. You really think he’d try and come up here?”

“Yes! When Lucifer desires something he won’t stop till it’s in his grasp. I fear he will make quite the grand entrance to come and retrieve his beloved.”

“Oh please. Even if he does come, I’ll have her wrapped around my finger to the point she’ll obey my every order.”

My eyebrows scrunched together. I could only assume they were talking about me. But why would Adam want me to comply with him? It’s not like I found him attractive or was even remotely interested in him. My ears caught onto light footsteps headed for the door, so I quickly rushed around a corner. I watched as Sera entered the hall, a look of disappointment gracing her features. She sighed and floated the opposite direction of me, Adam soon following after. I let my hands slip down to my sides and decided to take a walk to mull over the whole situation.

I didn’t really pay attention to where I was going, just focusing on my feet lifting up and down as I walked. It wasn’t till I heard ocean waves that made me stop. I looked to my left to see a gorgeous beach sitting in the distance. How odd.

I felt myself drawn to the calming sound of the tide seeping in and out as I made my way over. The wooden steps below my feet squeaked a bit and soon the white sand seeped around my sandals. I stopped at the water’s edge and closed my eyes. The breeze off the sea brushed against my flesh, the warmth feeling like a hug from a loved one. The smell of the salt reminded me of when S/o and I traveled a few towns over from ours to visit an aquarium. The animals were held in their natural waters behind glass panes, but the smell of rich salt permeated the air wherever you went. “Enjoying your freedom?”

My eyes shot open and I spun around. Laying on a long white beach chair was a taller woman. Her long blonde hair blew a bit in the breeze and caressed the top of the sand. She wore a dark purple sun hat with a lighter purple band, a dark purple bikini set, and purple rimmed sunglasses. Even though I couldn’t see her eyes, her aura wasn’t threatening. “W-what did you say?”

“I said enjoying your freedom, dearie?”

“Um, I guess. I mean I just got here so I wouldn’t know-”

“Come closer.”

I was taken aback by her tone. Though she was in a relaxed position, her voice was commanding, authoritative. I gulped and did as she requested. I stopped by her bare feet and could feel her eyes scanning me up and down. She hummed and her lips twitched into a small smile. “So you’re the one Lucifer is obsessed with now. I’ll admit I can see why. A pretty thing like you probably reminds him of the swans he would keep in gilded cages. While they weren’t ducks per say he found their beauty and grace appealing.”

I could feel my cheeks heat up at her compliment. “T-thank you?”

She chuckled and leaned back, soaking up the sun. “Your wedding will be the talk of Hell for quite a few months, I reckon. It’s not often that the King lends out his heart. You must be very special to him.”

“I found him as a snake. He was wounded and I patched him up. God, if only I hadn’t touched him I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

The woman scooted her feet over and patted the empty space on her chair. I sat sideways so I was able to glance at her. “So he took the form of a snake, eh? He hasn’t done that since he offered the apple to Eve. I always did find it interesting how slippery he could be, even when not in his snake form.”

“He’s so clingy. I hardly have any time to myself, he is always by my side. His claws touch me tenderly and when I look into his eyes all I can see is adoration. It’s disturbing.”

“Possessive as always. Perhaps your presence eases his depression.”

“I guess. I just don’t understand why he can’t get it through his head that I don’t want to be with him.”

“It’s called ego, darling. His pride gets the better of him. It doesn’t help that he’s the sin of it either.”

I brought my hand up to sit in my lap and found myself fidgeting with the finger my engagement ring had been on. “Apparently he’s so in love with me that he forgets he was married before. I realize his wife, Lilith I think her name was, left him seven years ago but he acts like I’m his first love.”

The woman was silent for a moment, the calm of the tide being the only sound between us. “Sounds like he’s just trying to find someone who makes him happy.”

“Yes, but at the expense of my own happiness.”

The woman opened her mouth to say something, but a familiar voice made us both look up at the wooden stairs. Emily stood waving her arm, a giant smile on her face. “Adam said you’d be out wandering so I thought I’d catch up and show you the ropes!”

“Sounds like fun.”

“Come on! I have so much stuff to show you!”

I chuckled and stood up from the chair. Just as I started to walk away, the woman’s hand clung to my wrist. Her grip was firm but gentle, making me turn back towards her. With her free hand she slid her sunglasses down her nose just enough to see her eyes. My eyes widened to see her light purple irises gleaming at me. “Please take care of him for me, Y/n. I can tell he truly loves and adores you.”

She raised my hand to her lips and left a light kiss on my knuckles. “Y/n, come on!”

The woman let me slip my hand from her grasp and as I slowly walked away she pushed her sunglasses back up. I was dazed as I reached Emily on the stairs, still reeling from what the woman had said. “Oh I’m so excited to show you everything! I think I’ll take you to the park first, ooo! Or I could take you to the zoo! We’ve got all of the animals Noah had on the Ark and more!”

I didn’t say anything as she grabbed my hand and pulled me away. Before we got too far I looked back at the woman, her hair blowing in the breeze.

I didn’t really pay much attention to what Emily was showing me or what she was saying. I was too focused on my conversation with the woman on the beach. Her eyes felt so familiar to me and yet I couldn’t place where I had seen them before. “/n? Y/n? Are you listening?”

I shook my head to see the young Seraphim looking at me concerned. “Huh?”

“I asked what you thought of the sunset. Isn’t it pretty?”

I followed her arm to see her pointing ahead of us. The clouds around us had turned pink, orange and light purple while the Sun had been cast to be a golden orange. “Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Are you okay? You seem distracted.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m here for you.”

Emily placed a hand on my shoulder, her thumb rubbing light circles. While the offer was tempting I didn’t know if I should tell her anything. I mean what did she know about Lucifer? Would she understand how the woman and I had connected while talking of the Devil? I looked over at her and could feel a wave of calm hit. Emily had this aura of trust and care surrounding her; her eyes sparkled and a friendly smile was placed on her black lips. I let out a sigh. “The woman I was with on the beach. Who is she?”

The angel looked puzzled, holding her chin in between her index finger and thumb. “I’m not entirely sure. She just showed up one day with Adam and Lute. I tried to talk to her but she brushed me off. Come to think of it, she only really talks to Adam. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just that she knew about Lucifer and I are to be wed soon. She also had information that isn’t known to the general public.”

“Maybe she heard it somewhere? I’ve heard Sera talk about Down Below every once in a while.”

“No, she knew too many details to have heard it in passing. Besides, she told me to take care of him, almost like she knew him personally. It was like she was giving me her blessing.”

“How mysterious.”

The two of us stood watching the sky slowly paint itself to night. It was refreshing to see something that S/o and I would watch any chance we got. “Y/n, may I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s it like on Earth?”

I blinked a few times, stunned by her question. “You’ve never been?”

“No. I was created way after Lucifer fell. My only purpose is to make the winners happy and enjoy their eternal life here in Heaven. Sera doesn’t view my position as something needed in everyday human life.”

I hummed and stared at the night sky. A shooting star passed by and I smiled in wonder. “I find it to be a lovely place. The town I live in is a nice community. Everyone knows their neighbors and it was the kind of place where if someone had a barbeque, everyone in the neighborhood was invited. I live by myself in a small house. It was kind of like an apartment but with no roommates. I even have my own little garden out back. It is my pride and joy.”

“That sounds amazing. Do you have any significant others?”

“I do. His name is S/o and he’s my world. Before I was kidnapped we didn’t have much time to spend with one another due to our work schedules. But when we were together, my god those were the best times. He made me feel like the most special girl in the universe.”

I smiled upon remembering my dear boyfriend. The memories of us on dates or him telling a stupid joke that I’d laugh way too hard at flooded my head. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes and I was quick to wipe them away. I choked back a sob and tried to focus on the stars. I didn’t want to become a crying mess in front of Emily. “Hiya, toots~”

The young angel and I turned to see the First Man standing behind us, his arms crossed in front of him. “It’s getting late, babe. Hows about you and I get to bed, hm?”

I looked at Emily, who gave me a curt nod. “I suppose.”

I walked up to him, only for him to snuggle me up to his side. “Thanks for watching her, Em! Go get yourself an ice cream or some shit.”

Before I could even say goodbye, Adam was dragging me back to my bedroom. He threw open the door and lightly pushed me inside. I stumbled and turned to look at him. “Alright, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning. If you need anything, and I mean anything, give me a holler. I’m right next door. Night, babe!”

He threw up a rock symbol on his right hand before slamming the door shut. What is with angels and slamming doors?

I shook my head and went to the closet. I looked in disgust at the pajama choice: a light pink babydoll nightgown with ruffles around the chest area and hem. I searched to see if there were any other options. Unfortunately, there were none. I headed to the bathroom with my pj’s and locked the door behind me. Stripping down, I slid on the nightdress. Looking in the mirror, I cringed at how short it was. I tried to pull the hem down but it stayed around my upper thigh. Growling in frustration, I unlocked the door and headed to the bed. I flipped back the covers and climbed in. I shifted around a bit to try and get comfortable. Even though the mattress was like a cloud, I preferred my bed back home. There I could have S/o’s arms wrapped around me as we cuddled. My homemade quilt and weighted blanket would keep us warm in the Queen sized bed. I could feel the tears from earlier gather in my eyes and slide down onto the pillowcase. I wrapped my arms around my midsection and curled into a ball. I ended up crying myself to sleep.

Over the next few days I found myself next to Adam’s side nearly all the time. The only time I was separated was when I was in the bathroom or when I was sleeping. Even being in the supposed happiest place for death I found myself very uncomfortable. Adam constantly had his hands on me: playing with the straps of my tops, smacking my butt, massaging my shoulders and hips, and his fingertips “accidentally” scraping my boobs. It didn’t help that Lute would constantly glare at me and her face would be pulled into a snarl. I suppose she thought I was disobeying her order to stay away from her master.

I thought about my interactions with the two as I pulled back the covers, getting ready to go to bed. A knock on my door made me pause. It was pretty late so I was confused as to who could be there. “Come in.”

The door slowly opened to reveal Adam. I gagged at how strong his cologne was as I could smell it all the way to where I was. “Um, hey Adam. What can I do for you?”

His footsteps sounded heavy on the tiled floor and the door shutting behind him felt like a blade stabbing into my heart. He lifted his hand and my breath caught in my throat when I heard the lock. I backed up but I felt the bed behind my knees. The First Man stopped right in front of me and allowed his lips to quirk into a deep grin. His hands came up and started to slide the nightgown straps down. Disgusted, I slapped his hands away and went to shove him. As my hands pushed on him, he was quick to grab my wrists and hold them to his chest. “You look so hot, babe. I was right to pick out this pj set. You fill it out perfectly.”

“Let go of me!”

I struggled to pull my hands away but his grip didn’t falter. “Adam, let go! Y-you’re scaring me!”

“Just go with the flow, sweetie. Can’t you see this was meant to be?”

He pushed me onto the bed and before I could get up he pounced on top of me. I was about to hit him but he pinned my wrists on either side of my head. He leaned down and began to kiss my neck. His lips were sloppy and he brought his tongue to lick against my vein. “I’m going to make you forget all about that fucking Morningstar. All that you’re going to have on your mind is the original Dickmaster.”

As he brought his lips down to kiss mine, I let out a growl and threw my leg upwards. I heard him let out a cry of pain before he fell onto the floor clutching his privates. “My balls! My fucking balls! God dammit, Y/n!”

With fear guiding me, I stumbled to the door and fumbled with the lock. “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

My fingers shook as I heard Adam rise, a groan leaving his lips. “I was going to play nice, toots. I really was. But it seems you want to play hard to get!”

I heard the lock click and I quickly threw the door open. I sprinted down the hall as I heard Adam yell after me. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I ran faster than I ever had. My escape was futile though as I slammed into a muscular body. I looked up to see Lute, her mask off to reveal a white bob and yellow eyes. I was frozen as I heard Adam huffing behind us. “Good job catching her, Lute!”

“What would you like me to do with the bitch?”

“Lock her in a cell.”

“Anything else?”

“Hit her or something for kicking my balls. That shit hurt.”

“Of course, sir.”

I cried out as Lute grabbed my hair and pulled me down the hall. I tried to pull her hand off but she just tightened her hold. With the pace we were going, the two of us ended up at a dark wooden door. Lute opened it and walked me to the middle of the dimly lit room. She opened the black metal door to the cell and threw me inside. I groaned as I felt my knee scrape against the cold cobblestone floor. I looked up at the angel who sent daggers into my soul with her gaze. “I told Adam you were trouble, but he insisted we bring you here. And after all the hospitality he showed you…you go back on his trust.”

“By hospitality do you mean perverted-” I growled out.

Lute brought her leg up and kicked my cheek. I landed harshly on my side and spit out some blood that oozed from my teeth. “Don’t speak of him like that.”

“Why? It’s not like he’s a saint!”

She growled and drove her foot into my stomach. I howled as sharp pain blossomed. “He’s better than you could ever be! I mean look at you. While he’s up here in Heaven you’re Down Below sucking Lucifer’s cock.”

Her foot hit my stomach again and I could feel bile rise in my throat. “How does it feel to know you’ll never achieve anything? Your legacy will be known as the Devil’s little whore and that’s all you're good for.”

I gave her a smirk before I coughed. “At least I probably give better head than you.”

Her eyes widened before they returned to slits. With her teeth clenched, she brought her right fist into my mouth. I felt my bottom lip split as some blood came shooting out. “Oh, triggered are we? Is this because you have pent up sexual frustration for your leader? Is that some kind of kink you’re into: master and servant?”

“Shut the hell up!”

Grabbing my hair, she slammed my head into the stone floor with a warrior cry. My vision blurred and the room felt like it was spinning. With her hand still tangled in my locks, Lute brought my head up and down several times to meet the floor. My cheekbone felt like it was on fire and I figured the bone was probably shattered with the force of me hitting the ground. “Think you’re tough shit, huh? I can tell you’re just a scared little girl. You were never meant for Heaven, even if you weren’t branded as Lucifer’s slut.”

I could feel my anger boiling. How dare she call me such vile names. “You think I chose this life? Hell no! I was fine being on Earth with my boyfriend!”

“Yeah right. You probably summoned that dirty retch. Why’d you do it? Did you want fame? Money? The glory of saying you fucked the King of Hell?”

“I didn’t do any of that shit! If I had it my way I would have never helped that stupid snake in my garden! Then maybe I wouldn’t be forced to be a bride against my will! Or better yet, then maybe I wouldn’t have met you or your motherfucking boss!”

She yelled in fury and brought her foot up to meet my chest. I landed on my back and the air left my lungs. I heaved in oxygen as she kept kicking me. I swear I heard ribs cracking under pressure. Lute didn’t stop there. She slammed her gray heeled boot onto my fingers and I couldn’t help but let out a scream. “That’s it! Scream, little girl! Pray that your hellish Daddy comes to save you!”

“S-shut up!”

I felt whiplash as her foot dug into my cheek, blood spilling down my bruised lips. “You know what we consider people like you? Fallen. Maybe I should cut your wings like we do all the others?”

“N-no!”

She roughly turned me over so that my back was facing her. I attempted to stand when I heard the sound of fabric ripping and cool air hitting my back. Lute however stomped me into the ground, her heel digging into my flesh. I heard her sword being unsheathed and saw its angelic light bounce off the cell wall. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean anything I said! Lute, p-please!”

She let out a cruel laugh and I yelped at her heel digging in further. “You’re pathetic, you know that? If you were half the woman that Adam claimed you to be, you wouldn’t go back on your word. Some advice for you, sweetie. If you say a threat, really mean it.”

I screamed as her sword pierced into the left side of my back. There had to be some kind of special angelic powers attached because this hurt way worse than when I would accidentally slice my finger while cooking. Lute reveled in my cries as she dragged the blade around forming some shape. Tears fell rapidly from my eyes as I slammed my fist down into the cold floor, trying to focus on something other than the pain radiating in my back. I was relieved when I felt the weapon retract, but the relief was short lived. A blood curdling shriek ripped through my throat as the sword entered the right side and began drawing a similar shape to its predecessor. Lute seemed to take her time, enjoying my wails bouncing off the walls. She harshly pulled the sword out and resheathed it. “While I would love to carry on my tradition of licking the blood of my enemies off my blade, I don’t want to taint my Holy body with your sin.”

“W-what did you d-do,” I stuttered under my breath.

I could sense a smirk gracing her features as she rounded in front of me. Reaching under my armpits, she hoisted me up and threw me against the wall. I cried out as the rough stone dug into my newly acquired wounds. “I just cut the wings off the fallen, dare I say, angel. Oh who am I kidding? You’re no angel. You’re not even as worthy as the dirt beneath my feet.”

“F-fuck you.”

I grit my teeth as she harshly gripped my chin, forcing me to look into her eyes. “What did I say about empty threats, sweetie? Or do I need to remind you?”

I shook my head as a dangerous smile overtook her face. “No, I think you need the reminder.”

Her hand moved to my throat and she made sure to drag my back up the wall as she let me hang. I weakly kicked my legs as I tried to get her to release me. I could feel my body shutting down as Lute squeezed. I was pretty sure I’d have bruises where her fingers lay. My hands started to slide off of hers as my vision began to get a black haze around the edges. “What is going on here?”

Lute let go of me in her haste and my butt collided hard with the ground. I couldn’t see who had entered as I heaved in deep breaths. “Miss Emily, what are you doing up? It’s late. You should get to bed. Here, let me escort you.”

“What were you doing, Lute?”

“Oh, um, I was taking care of a prisoner.”

I could see a familiar head peek around my attacker’s body, a gasp leaving the young Seraphim’s lips. “Oh my goodness! Y/n!”

Emily rushed past and cradled me in her arms, her hand gently rubbing my bruised cheek. “What have you done?! Y/n didn’t do anything to you!”

“On the contrary Miss Emily, Y/n here has committed a major sin. She rejected the orders of the First Man and I was told to punish her in any way I saw fit.”

“I rejected him because he wanted sex. You left that part out,” I hissed, my throat raw from screaming.

Lute bit her lip and I could see she was dying to cuss me out. “I could forgive Adam’s behavior up until now, but this, this is unforgivable! I need to talk to Sera about this. Violence isn’t the answer and neither is attacking innocent people!”

I could see a shadow cast over the white haired angel’s face and her hand reached for her sword. “There’s no need to discuss this with Sera.”

My eyes widened as her sword was unsheathed next to her side. Emily must have sensed something was off as well because her arms trembled around me. “Lute, w-what are you doing? Put your sword away n-now!”

“I can’t risk you running and tattling to Sera. Who knows what she’ll do to us. Adam and I belong here in Heaven! We’re doing good in God’s name! We will not be cast Down Below!”

She raised the blade and brought it down quickly towards Emily’s head. She screamed and with a newly found inner strength I forced myself up. I let out a warrior cry as I brought my arm up to protect my face, the sharp weapon making contact with my left shoulder. I heard fabric ripping and a glass shattering shriek from the young Seraphim. Glancing down I saw my arm was missing, it lying discarded on the dungeon floor. I let out a shaky gasp and stumbled into the wall. “Y/N!”

I went to go to Emily’s side but Lute stabbed her sword into my right shoulder, effectively pinning me to the wall. I screeched and realized there was nothing I could do. I helplessly watched as the evil angel went for the younger girl’s throat. However, a punch to her face made her drop Emily. She grunted as her head smacked the wall next to me and her body slid down to the floor. I looked towards our savior and felt the color drain from my face. There stood Lucifer, six red and white wings displayed behind him. His eyes were completely red as tall, curvy, red horns grew from his forehead. A flame hovered between them and the snake that usually rested on his hat was now wrapped around the tip of his horns. From this distance it looked like his sharp teeth had grown longer, his canines more prevalent. Lute grunted as she sat up holding her cheek, golden blood trickling from a cut. “You BASTARD! You can’t hurt an angel on Holy ground!”

“The rules don’t apply to FUCKING SCUM LIKE YOU! How DARE you lay your filthy hands on MY BRIDE!”

He rushed forwards and sent a hard punch to her gut. Lute let out a cry of pain before Lucifer grabbed her by the feathers around her throat. Her muscular legs kicked violently, her white gloved hands digging into black hands. I could hear the crunch of her neck bones breaking, golden blood flying out her mouth onto the Devil’s claws. “I can think of so many ways I can torture you with. What should I start with first, hm? I could pluck those white and black feathers from your wings and have them decorate a cape for my darling; Or I could have my snakes bite you all over your body as you screamed and writhed in agony. Oh yes, their venom would enter your bloodstream and there would be nothing you could do as it slowly overtook you, boiling your insides to ash; Or I could break each bone in your body beginning with your fingers and leaving your neck. After everything was broken and you felt that pain, I could slowly saw off each limb, starting with the tops of your fingers and going down each joint. I think I would like that! And after every vein, tendon, muscle and bone was cut off your body I could give them to Cannibal Town to feed the residents as a treat from their King. Just before you died, I could cut out your tongue, eyes and ears and give them to Alastor. I don’t know what the Radio Demon would do with them, but I know he’d find a way to make them useful. And as you would crash from blood loss, I would place your head on a spike outside my palace. It would be a reminder to not mess with me or my fucking bride! Oh, I’d have fun torturing your soul as surely Heaven wouldn’t want you as my hellish hands corrupted your purity!”

Lute bared her teeth and her legs started to slow down to a small wiggle. I watched on in horror as he threw her at the wall on the opposite side of the room. As he stomped towards her, Emily ran to my side. She took off the shawl around her shoulders and wrapped it around my left shoulder. She pulled it tight to try and staunch the bleeding. I hissed as the pressure sent shooting pain to my remaining nerves. Lucifer’s black tail flicked up and down, acting like a scorpion's. My pupils shrunk as I watched him wrap his fist around one of Lute’s wings. She scratched at him as he tugged, a scream ripping from her throat. “That! Is for even bringing my dear apple up here!”

He gripped her other wing and tugged, more bloodied feathers in his fist. “That! Is for throwing her around!”

He went back and forth ripping more and more feathers from each wing, a pile growing behind Lucifer as he called out something harmful Lute had done to me. “Get off me, you motherfucker!”

The Devil brought up one of his feet, slamming the heel of his black leather boot into her eye socket. I shrieked as he kept at it, more golden blood dripping down as her face was slowly being caved in. I couldn’t watch this any longer.

“LUCIFER, STOP!”

His foot was in midair as it froze. He looked over his shoulder at me. I scrunched my eyebrows together and let pleas slip past my bruised lips and raw throat.

“PLEASE, STOP! Just stop! You’ve done enough damage!”

He scowled and brought his foot down, turning to face me completely. White irises surfaced on top of his red scaleras, softening as they stared at me. “Y/n, she could have killed you! By God, your arm has been lobbed off! Why do you plead mercy for a disgusting soul like hers? She and Adam should suffer for what they have done to you!”

“It’s not worth it! Killing her won’t rewind time or heal me. Just, just let her be.”

He sighed and looked down at Lute’s crumpled body. I could hear her labored breathing so I knew she was still alive, just in a fatal condition. He walked over and crouched before me. Those white eyes of his were filled with rage and determination, but not directed towards me. He brought his hands up to my cheeks, tenderly rubbing them with his thumbs. “Okay. But I need to remove this weapon from your shoulder. I’m not going to lie, this’ll hurt like hell. Emily, stabilize her.”

“O-of course.”

The young girl moved her hands from my missing arm to underneath my armpits and Lucifer grabbed the hilt of the sword. “I apologize for the pain this’ll bring, my dear. I’ll go as fast as I can without the risk of damaging your nerves.”

I nodded and with that he pulled. I cried out in pure agony. Emily hushed me in an effort to make me feel better but all I could focus on was the pain. When the sword was fully out of my shoulder, Lucifer patted the top of my head and gave it a gentle kiss. He stood and turned back towards Lute, who had pushed herself up so she was in a sitting position. With the sword by his side, my fiance slowly stalked forward until he stopped in front of the fallen angel. I couldn’t see her due to Lucifer’s wings spread out but maybe he had done that on purpose. “You should thank my dear apple. She has shown you mercy in a time when she shouldn’t be so kind. But her kindness is one of the reasons I fell for her.”

I felt a sudden tension in my body. He had agreed to not do anything so why did I feel so uneasy? Suddenly he thrust forward and from the feminine scream that bounced off the walls I could tell he had stabbed her. “But on the other hand, I’m not so merciful. I am the King of Hell after all. What is it that you angels say about me? That I’m a rotten, purely evil, husk of a man who should have choked on his own apple while a snake hung me from a tree in the Garden of Eden? Well let me live up to my title. Let me show you how rotten and purely evil I can be!”

“Lucifer, no,” I cried.

He pulled the sword out of wherever he had stabbed it and lifted it above his head. He brought it down with a yell of fury and I screamed as golden blood sprayed everywhere. I squirmed as some of it had splattered across the room onto Emily and I. It was warm and sticky against my legs and face. I wondered if Lute was even alive after that blow. “You. Sick. Fuck! You’re a monster, you know that?!”

I was shocked to hear the female sidekick, even if her voice was shaky. “I don’t care! I don’t care what others think of me! The only one I need is Y/n! She’s MY darling! MY little apple! MY light! And no one, not even the fucker up here who calls himself Father, CAN TAKE HER AWAY FROM ME!”

My eyes widened and I couldn’t tell if it was Emily or I who was trembling the hardest.

He was crazy.

Absolutely batshit insane.

I finally realized how deep his obsession for me ran.

He cackled like a lunatic, throwing his head back. His whole body shook with how hard he was laughing. He brought the angelic weapon up again and swung down-

"LUCIFER!”

All of us froze. There in the doorway stood Sera, a multitude of eyes surrounding her gray curls. Her fists were balled at her sides as she walked in. “What is the meaning of this?!”

Lucifer didn’t even look at her, too focused on his prey in front of him. “I’m acting in self defense. Aren’t I, Emily?”

Sera looked at the two of us and Emily squeaked. “Is this true, Emily?”

“I-I-I-”

“Be truthful, my child. I don’t want you scorned for siding with the embodiment of evil.”

“...He saved us, Sera! Lute, she, she, she was going to kill me! If Mister Morningstar hadn’t stepped in both Y/n and I would be dead!”

The High Seraphim was taken aback, her eyes fading from her hair. “What?”

“Hey, what’s with all the commotion? Some people are trying to sleep-”

My gaze saw Adam walk in behind Sera, his mouth allowing a yawn to pass. The pit in my stomach grew as I feared how he would react when he saw the state of his right hand woman. Sure enough his eyes landed on her and his body tensed. “Holy shit…Lute.”

His hands balled up next to his sides and his eyebrows scrunched over the top of the golden eyes on his mask. “You, motherfucker! You, son of a bitch! You could have killed her-”

A screech ripped my throat as Lucifer whipped around and sliced through Adam’s arm. It flopped to the floor and a chorus of fear filled the air. The First Man was quick to grab his open wound, liquid gold coating his fingers. “What the fuck. What the fuck! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU CUT OFF MY ARM, YOU ASSHOLE!”

With Lucifer turned I could see the fire burning in his eyes. He was scaring even Sera, her taking a step back. “What is it they say? An eye for an eye? Well in this case it’s an arm for an arm.”

“YOU, DICKBAG! WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!”

“Why don’t you ask your little whore when she wakes up? I’m sure she’d love to tell you in great detail while she’s in between your thighs sucking you off about what happened.”

Adam growled and released his shoulder, his bloodied hand pointing at Emily and I. His index finger started to glow with a bright white light and I feared he’d shoot me. With the threat in the air, Lucifer brought the tip of the sword to the masked man’s throat. He pushed it in, not enough to draw blood but enough to make the consequence known. “Don’t. Even. Think. About. It. You’re lucky that my dearest told me not to kill anybody. Because believe me, my limit has been passed and I’m hanging by a fucking thread.”

Adam gulped and the blade moved with the bob of his adams apple. I could see fear in the egotistical man’s eyes and even his stance had changed to try and protect himself. “Say, how about I cut off the other hand to join its partner on the floor? I could make them into a pair of cup holders for my beloved and I to use as we sip your thick rich blood from bejeweled goblets.”

“W-why would you want to do that? My blood doesn’t even taste that good!”

“Let’s see, I could name a million reasons. But the first one that comes to mind is to punish you for assaulting my fiance! Did you really think I wouldn’t know about you constantly putting your wretched paws all over her?”

“L-look, you stole two of my wives. I was only returning the favor!”

Lucifer grit his teeth and I swear with how hard he pushed them together they would shatter. The glare that he sent towards Adam was lethal as his eyes turned completely red once more. His black knuckles turned white with how hard he gripped the hilt of the sword. “Those two were just to show how superior I am to you. Y/n is different. She is my true love! She’ll remain by my side for the rest of her eternal life and together we will rule Hell as King and Queen! And if you think you can take that away I’ll cause my own extermination! Any and all winners will be subject to my wrath! They will be slaughtered one by one and their souls forced to burn beneath my hooved feet! I’ll torture every last one of them as I send them to each ring of Hell, the Cardinal Sins and Overlords free to do whatever the fuck they want! UNDERSTOOD?!”

The sword was pushed a bit further into Adam’s neck, a light trail of blood sliding down from the small gash. The tension was so thick that the weapon in Lucifer’s hands wouldn’t be able to cut through it. “Y-you got it, man! Just don’t hurt me!”

The Devil chuckled and pulled away. “Oh, Adam. So above it all until your whole existence is threatened. Then you turn into a pussy and cower away.”

Throwing the sword into Lute’s left wing with a huff, he used his now open hands to conjure a red misty portal. When Lucifer turned to face Emily and I his white irises had returned to his red eyes and a soft smile reached his lips. He walked over, his bloodied boots clicking against the cobblestone. Slowly, as if to not scare me further, he crouched in front of us. His arms reached for me and as he got close Emily hugged me tight to her frame. Tears ran down my cheeks and wet their previously dry tracks. I shook my head and curled my legs into my torso, trying to get as far away from my fiance. “Please don’t hurt her, Mister Morningstar!”

His face dropped and he shook his head side to side. “You honestly think that I’d hurt my darling? I’m hurt, Emily.”

He reached for me again and before the young girl could put up a fight, he wrapped his arms around me. Standing up, he hoisted me bridal style and brought our foreheads together. He closed his eyes and nuzzled me close. A purr rumbled in his throat and he opened his eyes. That frightening look of adoration had returned, his pupils almost looking like little hearts. He gave my forehead a kiss and then turned towards the other angels. “Goodbye, cunts. Hopefully we never see you again.”

His presence commanded the room as he walked us towards the portal, the familiar dark red sky of Hell peeking through. “Let’s go home, my dearest Y/n. We deserve some alone time together.”

A sob wracked my body as he flew forward, the portal closing immediately behind us.

~~~~~~~~

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