#i feel like i never finish things sometimes

[andhumanslovedstories]

I am not closely following the election results tonight, but I am occasionally seeing flashes of them out of the corner of my eye. The most obvious sign that things aren’t going well right now is the complete lack of celebrating on my dash. I know what tumblr looks like when it’s happy. Maybe I’ll go to bed tonight and see something different in the morning. I hope to god that is the case. But I’m thinking about the way I’m thinking right now, and I want to get some stuff down before the future kicks in.

In 2016 I was in a period of my life I affectionately refer to as as my fuckup era. I wasn’t even fucking up really. More just chilling out and falling short of the vague expectations I’d had about what I was supposed to be doing after I graduated college. While my friends from college rented apartments in the city and got jobs that didn’t supply you with a uniform shirt, I lived at home and worked as a barista at a fancy movie theater. That’s a real job you can do for almost five years. I didn’t have a clue what the back half of my twenties should look like. The only long term plan I had in my life was moving out west with my best friend, and my plan for finding a job once I was out there was basically to cross my fingers and hope.

Those days weren’t bad on the whole, but it felt like I was not actually living a life so much as I was goofing off in the waiting room. Sometimes that felt embarrassing, sometimes it felt fun, and sometimes it felt like I was completely pointless to the world.

On 2016’s Election Day, I went to bed early. After watching the votes come in, I needed the night to be over. I woke in a world that felt different than it had been the night before—not just in the actuality of who would be president but down to its foundations. I realized for the first time how much hope I’d had in human nature because now I didn’t feel it anymore. It’s almost silly when I think about it—so many horrible things had already happened that year, people had done horrible things as long as there have been people, and I didn’t think I was naive to that—but something clicked into place that morning.

It felt the same way my world had changed a year earlier, in 2015 during my last semester of college. My college victory lap felt like a prolonged downward spiral. Very early in the morning on a Monday, after pulling an all-nighter and overwhelmed by self-loathing that I could not just motivate myself to work on a paper that had been my only thought all weekend, I self-harmed for the first time in a way that was impossible to pretend it was anything else. Earlier that weekend, I’d tried staving off the urges drawing or writing on my arm, something that did (and does) usually work. I’d written this quote in silver sharpie on my forearm: “Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.”

I picked that quote from the Ms. Marvel comics and liked the words so much, I thought that I wouldn’t be willing to purposefully mess it up by hurting myself there. Didn’t work. They just made me feel more ashamed of myself as I did it.

That was the worst I had ever felt. Then, on the Friday of that week, a friend of mine was senselessly, brutally murdered.

It doesn’t feel now like there was ever a time before her death. My memoir class is now where I wrote about her. My favorite professor is now the one who held me as I cried. My final thesis, the culmination of my history degree, never got finished and certainly never got polished. I turned it what I had and got an A minus. Sometimes I think of rereading that paper to see if that’s the grade it actually deserved. We hadn’t been the closest friends, but my name was still on the email admin sent to professors, listing students who might be emotionally affected by this tragic event. Grace’s murder hangs over every memory I have with her and everything she ever touched. It feels like its own type of obliteration to leave her reduced to her death.

Grace wanted to be a lawyer because she believed in justice and also liked arguing. She could be rude when she wasn’t interested in what you were saying. When you caught her attention, you felt like the most fascinating person in the room. She was so proud of being Jewish. I watched her become proud of being gay. She was so universally friendly that it took me a year to realize that she actually liked specifically me. She had a somewhat silly laugh and an astonishingly luminous smile.

I thought less of the world and the people in it because of how she died. Trump’s election in 2016 felt like that.

After he won, I left stasis. From November through December, I thought harder about my future than I ever had before. Who did I want to be? What did I most value? What did I think was worth protecting? What work wouldn’t kill me to do? At one point, in presumably a fit of madness, I thought, “what if I got into politics.” Epiphany eventually hit me. By the time of Trump’s inauguration, I was already enrolled at community college, getting my pre-reqs for nursing school.

Now it’s election night again, eight years later. I live on the west coast with my best friend, in a house that we bought together. I work as a nurse in a hospital in a city where there are homeless encampments off every highway and someone begging for change on every corner. Meanwhile, there’s Palestine. Meanwhile there’s Sudan. Meanwhile refugees drown in the sea and border patrol shoots jugs of water. Even hurricanes have human cruelty now.

I don’t think people are inherently good or the universe inherently kind. But I am very good at tricking myself into thinking it for a little while, and when I do, I can remember the a specific feeling from Friday of my senior year, from that morning in November— how fucking hard the disappointment hit me because I had expected people to be better than this. It makes me want to be better than that.

I believe, and hope that I always will, that we can make a better world. I don’t know what it looks like, but I think I will see it in my lifetime. Those of us who can believe such things owe a bit of that naïveté to the world—not to excuse atrocities or think them impossible but to believe that we can stop them at all. You have to have a couple people sprinkled around who are genuinely shocked when people do bad things. It’s not that the pessimists are wrong, but you need the occasional counterbalance. I want to be a reasonable cynic’s pleasant surprise.

Every shift, I interact with people at their lowest and worst. I see the direct pipeline from pain to anger to violence, and how fragile that pipeline can be. So many situations can be changed by things as small as a warm blanket or a kind word. Violence can be quite easy to avert. Crises can be quite simply to resolve. Even when I know that whatever I do that shift will not change the circumstances of a person’s life, I think that what I do that shift still matters.

I’m lying in bed, writing this post instead of looking at the news. I wonder how tonight will change me. Been thinking about what I’ll do if Trump wins. Been thinking about how whatever I think I need to do under Trump will still need to be done if Harris clutches out a victory. I guess this is a pessimist’s optimism: to a degree the election doesn’t matter. Good is not a thing you are. It is a thing you do. Our better world will always take a lot of work.

But please god please, why can’t it be just a little easier to do it?

[bumblingbeezzz]

I think somebody out there wants me to kill myself lmao. I keep seeing things on here that could all potentially ruin my mood, and now I see holes getting shot through one of my lifelines amidst the sinking sands of depression. I knew Goku was never entirely a righteous hero, but in fact got a lot of thrill from fighting, which is why he would sometimes leave a worthy opponent alive so he can fight him again, even if they were an extremely dangerous individual to let roam free. But this says that it's literally all he cares about? Some of the claims OP made are, at the very least, not backed up in the source provided by the other poster. It doesn't say here that he only feels companionship not love, and that he would only care for a second if his family and friends died.***

It's pretty messed up. The same article makes both Goku and Toriyama not look so great all at once. In it, he also admits that his motivation for writing DBZ was nothing more than money, and doesn't say that he learned to love it or have any connection to his fans (in fact, he mentions intentionally messing with them and being contrary to their wishes), just seems to imply that it was an easier job than most. I'm tempted to share this with the person who got me into DBZ but also I don't want to ruin anything for them. Then again, they're the type to say "I prefer the brutal truth" so...

Ah fuck but what about all my followers who like DBZ? Goddammit...I wanted to say my piece but I guess it's selfish of me to ruin it for others. But, well, actually there may be some consolation for those who already saw this, because Toriyama also states that he forgets some of the things he writes. He also says he doesn't take care of his illustrations after he finishes them. Which is really weird and kind of disheartening to hear that he had so little passion for the story he built and shared with so many fans worldwide. But the point is, it seems that many fans are closer to the material than even he is, and as I've said before about the Harry Potter series, you can separate the content from the creator by acknowledging that 1) it is fiction and 2) there is a difference between who the author is, how the author interprets their own work, and what enjoyers make of it. These characters live in our consciousness as we built them too. We put our own heart into it just by immersing ourselves in it. Yeah, sure, Toriyama had a different vision of Goku than maybe a lot of fans did, but that doesn't make those interpretations we acquired and stored less valid. We all used our own imaginations to interact with what we watched or read. The version of the character that you see, and which makes the most sense to you is "real," because it's all unreal anyway.

And honestly? A more complex Goku who loves fighting for the thrill of it AND fighting for his friends makes the most sense anyway. We've seen it, we've seen his genuine care and concern. He's proven himself to be "pure of heart."

***Edit: They do actually include more sources that I didn't initially see which does confirm this, at least the part about seeing his family more as companions, though that doesn't change my final statement.

I just really find the fact that the creator of dragonball has stated that Goku canonically cannot feel any kind of love, just ‘companionship’, to be a extremely interesting fact. Like, if his family died he’d be like ‘No!’ and then he’d get over it fairly quickly as if they were only just acquaintances. Same goes with the rest of his friends.

The series creator apparently doesn’t like the anime’s portrayal of Goku. They always cast Goku as a hero, when in the manga he’s really only ‘saving people’ as a side bonus that comes with fighting a stronger opponent. He doesn’t purposefully go in to save anyone unless there is a fight happening at the scene.

So, If Goku hadn’t hit his head, he would’ve just been another Raditz. And it also explains why he’s rather cruel towards Gohan and neglectful towards Chichi.

Apparently Vegeta is the actual exception to his own species. He actually genuinely loves his family, -a rare trait only Goku’s mother was proven to have- whereas Goku is apparently literally unable to have those feelings. It’s kind of ironic; Vegeta is probably the one that would be the most ashamed and resentful to admit he has those kinds of feelings.

[hannieween]

playing dumb | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: loser jeonghan, grad student jeonghan, grad student reader › genres: fluff, smut (18+) › word count: 6.6k

› 🎧easy – jaehyun | cream soda – exo (lol) | feeling lucky – bibi

› this one shot is part of my hannieween fest/kinktober special!

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with little to no plot, dom reader, sub jeonghan, jeonghan is a little pervy, oral fixation, big cock jeonghan, jeonghan is a little bit inexperienced in sex, oral sex, hand job, use of sex toys (cock ring), overstimulation, dacryphilia, early ejaculation, cumming on skin, a bit of hair pulling, dirty talk, a little bit of humiliation kink again, a little bit of praise kink, corruption kink, slight exhibitionism. pet names: pretty boy, baby boy (his) baby (hers)

› acknowledgements: @kwanisms @cheolism @whipped-for-kpop-fics, @junekissed for helping me come up with ideas for this fic, and terminology bits, thank you. i couldn't have done it without u. i love you 🩵

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

JEONGHAN LIFTED HIS ARM IN THE AIR, LETTING OUT A QUIET GRUNT.

“Yes, do you have a question?” the professor asked, seeing his arm in the crowd of people listening to her lecture.

Jeonghan finished yawning, shaking his head. “Just stretching.”  

A stillness blanketed the room as your fellow classmates bore their eyes into the man sitting next to you. Shaking your head, you tried hard not to roll your eyes at his lack of correctness, or self-awareness.

Professor Blackwood resumed her lecture, unbothered by the small interruption. Granted, in her years of experience, a restless student like Jeonghan might be inconsequential.

But he was puzzling to you. One look around the room would be sufficient to determine that he was the one standing out from the students sitting in the sloped tiers of the lecture hall.

It was not only his attire, a pastel pink hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of worn white sneakers. But his attitude… his attitude was your biggest gripe with him. While everyone was immersed in the lecture, writing down notes on their tablets or computers, he was absentmindedly toying with the string of his hoodie. 

Sometimes, he would shift in his seat, letting out a loud cough that broke the stiltedness of the lecture, or would make the most out of the ordinary question to the professor, causing a pause.

You could tell out of the corner of your eye that he was bored, crossing one ankle on his knee, he had started to shake his foot.

You could have sworn you hated him at that moment, but the lecture was boring if you dared admit it. As much as you had wanted to listen to the lecture, compiling notes and questions for it, it had dragged on.

For one thing, political language in works of fiction wasn't something you had much interest in delving into, so it had been a real disappointment for you to learn that it was boring.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat again, sighing through his nose. He could just get up and leave. But he never did. Part of you believed that he was just too much of a pretentious guy to actually leave, as though he did not want to miss the opportunity to be the most annoying person in the room.

You found yourself sighing too out of boredom, making Jeonghan stir on his seat and direct a quick glance at you. You did not need to use your peripheral vision to know that he was smiling to himself, the quiet exhale told you that much. 

“Now moving on to Foucault’s discourse on Orwell’s 1984…” The professor changed slides of the presentation for the third time in the one hour you had been listening and something in you twisted in great annoyance, but you did not let it show.

Jeonghan however had resorted to creating shapeless doodles on the margins of the book splayed on the table. The book was so tattered and beaten that you could not believe it was brand new just a week ago when Jeonghan brought it with him. You had seen him remove the plastic from its shiny cover to proceed then to crack and bend the spine like it was his sworn enemy.

The little or no attention he paid to the books he acquired for the courses was irritating. He would scribble on the pages, underline paragraphs with whatever pen he could get his hands on, and bend the corners of the pages so he would not miss the last one he read. On one occasion, you saw him tear out the first few pages of a book he was reading and then make little paper airplanes.

Even if he wore a different ridiculously oversized hoodie every day, his attitude would catch the attention of anyone who looked around. The rest of the people sitting in the lecture had a different behavior. While everyone, including you, was prim and proper, he was just plain laid back always.

So, why did you have a bone to pick with him? Well, despite his evident boredom, he was top of the class. And you were a little bit of an overachiever. Not only that, ever since Jeonghan discovered how easy it is to get under your skin, he has done it constantly, like it is his favorite pastime.

Jeonghan knew how to get under your skin, and also on it.

You smoothed your hands over your lap, your fingertips brushing at the hem of your pencil skirt. Suddenly, your seat started to grow hot, not quite literally, no. This was a feeling purely set by the thought of Jeonghan being on your skin, just like he was last Friday night.

Jeonghan saw the motion of your hands, your skirt hiked up on your thighs, giving him a view of your skin. He subconsciously stuck a pen between his lips, and you saw the pink tip of his wet tongue, making you press your thighs together. When that did not work, you crossed one leg over, pressing as hard as you could.

The skirt inched up on your thighs. There was a sparkle in his eyes, he was sure your focus was on him now. Memories mixed with fantasies flew inside your head, making it impossible to resume listening to the lecture, now you were lost in wanting, in the need to recreate what you had done on impulse a few nights before.

Jeonghan shifted on his seat, spreading his legs a little. Your eyes widened slightly, the air leaving your lungs upon getting a clear sight of the outline of his growing erection peaking on the gray sweats he wore.

You bit your bottom lip in an attempt to pull yourself together, but instead, your fingers itched to reach out and grab him.

He stilled, reading your body language. For a minute you wondered if he believed you to be capable of grabbing him under the desk and jerking him off in the middle of the lecture. As he pushed his hips forward slightly, you saw how hard he was, his boner leaning on his thigh. He was thinking of the same thing you were.

Now, Jeonghan does not know what got into you that night, but he is thankful as fuck that something did.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled softly through your nose. You hated him. You hated that he knew how to get your attention, whether it was with his stupid behavior during class, or tempting you to tell him to repeat what happened that Friday night.

That Friday night.

All you had to do was film a video for a paired task.

Somehow, everyone had already been paired when you went out looking for any potential partners to do the task. “I’m up for it if you don’t find anyone,” Jeonghan had said timidly.

There was nothing more to his offer, and he was the best in the class, so you thought it could be an opportunity to finally put those unconformities you had with him to rest.

Except that, your little attempt at doing the task failed miserably by a long shot.

It never crossed your mind that you would ever get to see his place. A very simple studio, with everything necessary, but it still looked very minimalist, except for the corner where there were stacks of books against the wall, rising up almost to your height.

You wished to say that one thing led to the other. But you did not know what was going through your head when you gave him a kiss.

Jeonghan was sitting on the floor, trying to read from the set of prompts you had prepared beforehand to make things quicker and finish your paired task. Around him on the floor laid the pages of his copy of Frankenstein, which he had mutilated because it helped him find his notes easier.

This is the guy who practically steals the top-grade award every semester. If he went to another program, you would get those awards.

While Jeonghan’s book remained scattered on the floor, your own Frankenstein copy sat on your lap. It was a hardback, and the only modifications it had suffered were adhesive notes sticking to the corners where you had made note of all the important stuff.

You leaned over on the floor, pretending to take a look at the pages sitting beside his legs. He stole glances at you, thinking that you were perhaps looking elsewhere, at your phone, or your nails like you sometimes do during class.

But no, you were pensively outlining the features of his face. Jeonghan had a thing for biting his bottom lip or pushing his tongue on it. There was a beauty mark adorning his cheek daintily. The heavy set of eyelashes made you envy him a little, but the bitter feeling would fade every time his eyes found yours.

Jeonghan was truly one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen. He used his fingers to tuck a rebellious strand of hair behind his ear, stealing another glance at you. He was nervous, you could tell from the way his breath sounded shaky as he let out another exhale through his nose.

You have seen him play with his tongue a lot before. Besides constantly licking his lips, he tends to stick the tip of his pen between his lips, keeping the tip of his tongue pushed out between his teeth. It was distracting, but not for the right reasons.

Sometimes, your mind would wander during class with thoughts about the places you would want to feel that tongue. Other times, when he fidgeted a lot with his hands, you would think about his fingers, his knuckles brushing against places you wanted him to feel.

“Jeonghan,” you blurted, commanding his eyes to you as you leaned over to him, knowing that would give more access to his gaze to wander over your cleavage. “I know you’re not reading that, look at me.”

The intrigue in his eyes was also nearly palpable in the room. Part of you could not really believe what you were about to do, you wondered for how long you had felt like this for Jeonghan. You were about to find out.

“What?” he frowned slightly, his gaze trying to read you but getting no clarity. The tips of his ears were red, and you noticed then, they got red whenever he talked to you. Or any girl for that matter.

“Look at me,” you repeated, but his eyes were already on you, trying to figure you out. There was something about him, maybe it was the stupid clothes he wore, or that he got a nervous stutter whenever you were near him.

Maybe it was the fact that you found it cute that he refused to wear his glasses to school, forced to squint at the board every time. Or that you thought it adorable to find out that behind him he had a collection of mini figurines on his desk.

The truth was, there was something about Yoon Jeonghan. Maybe it was the ridiculous yellow hoodie he was wearing that night, or that he got nervous every time you went near him.

Jeonghan was a loser. And you kind of liked that about him.

“Do you want to fuck?”

His pretty eyes widened in shock, but he tried to mask it off quickly, blinking a couple of times without looking anywhere else but your face. “What?” he asked quietly and very slowly, as if he was not sure of what he heard, of having hallucinated what you said.

“Do you want to fuck?” you repeated, dragging out the words for him with a small cooing tone. As you said each word, his gaze went over the features of your face, his eyes widening once again when you finished uttering the question.

“Wh-what about the assignment?” he stuttered, visibly trying to keep his cool.

“I’m bored. And we could finish it later,” you shrugged slightly, putting on your best confident face. Part of you found it cute that his first instinct was to ask about the assignment, and not why you wanted to fuck him all of a sudden.

Jeonghan paused to ponder, and you could see on his face that the gears in his brain had begun to turn. “Are you kidding me?” he stuttered, licking his lips anxiously. “Is this some sort of trick?”

You replied by giving him a soft smile, tilting your head to one side. “Sit on the bed,” you whispered, close enough to his face that you could see each of his individual lashes.

At the sound of your command, Jeonghan could not resist himself any further. Whatever protest he had thought, he brushed them all away with a blink of his pretty eyes. He rose to his feet, turned away and sat on the bed, his hands placed neatly on his lap.

Now it was your turn to contemplate him for a second. “How would I be tricking you?” you mused, getting to your feet to stand in front of him.

He raised his gaze to meet yours, his mouth parting slightly as he swallowed nervously. “I-I don’t know, I…” he blinked slowly, smiling in pure shyness at his own stuttering. “Why would you want to f-fuck me?”

“Mm,” you hummed, inching closer to him so you could reach out and hold his face. “Like I said I’m bored,” you mumbled, bringing up a finger to touch the tip of his nose. “And you, Jeonghan, are terribly skittish… it’s nagging.”

“Sorry,” he said hoarsely, clearing his throat, blinking repeatedly as you dragged the pad of your finger to caress his cheek. “I-I still don’t get why-,”

“Don’t play coy, Jeonghan, it doesn’t suit you,” you smirked, enjoying the way he trembled beneath the tip of your finger. “I think you’re cute.”

“Cute?” he chuckled dryly, his gaze falling far in the room as if he were directing it to an imaginary camera behind you in sheer incredulity. “What the fuck?”

But his eyes found your face again when you sunk your fingers, threading his long dark hair from the crown of his head and then back. “I can’t really ignore the way you’ve been staring at my tits, Jeonghan, and I am in a bit of a giving mood.”

“Oh god,” he mouthed, shaking as his hands clutched the bedcovers beneath him. “Wh-what—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to look-,”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a low coo. “You can stare, Hannie. In fact, tonight you can do more than that.”

“Wh-what?” he repeated slowly. “More?”

You nodded, smiling gently at the confusion plastered on his face. Driving that confusion deeper, your fingers coiled in his hair, giving a tug. “Do you want to kiss me, Jeonghan?”

His eyes immediately traveled to your lips, giving you a small nod with his head. “Yeah, I do,” he said faintly.

You smirked, trying to mask your own nervousness. “Don’t move,” you whispered, looking at his eyes and then his lips before dipping your head to meet his mouth with your own.

As you had intuited before: he was a good kisser. The slow and gentle pressing of your lips against his was matched in an instant in the same manner. Helping yourself with your hands on his hair, you tilted his head back, hugging his lips with your own in a deeper kiss. He hummed, which led you to think that he liked that.

“That was good,” you mumbled, pulling back to see his dark eyes glimmering.

You stopped cradling his head with your hands, taking them to your chest where you slowly started to undo each button of your dress shirt. His eyes followed your fingers as they trailed further down, your shirt parting to show your white lace bra.

“Oh, look at you,” you mumbled mockingly. “Hard already. Just by seeing my bra?”

Jeonghan shifted on his bed, his parted legs gave you the sight of the erection tenting his grey sweats. The tips of his ears could not get redder, and you saw how he trembled slightly due to a hard shudder coursing through him.

You allowed the dress shirt to fall from your shoulders and to the floor, uncovering your chest for his view. His mouth parted, and for a moment you thought he meant to say something but never found the courage to do it.

So you made it easier for him. “Do you want to touch me, Jeonghan?” you mumbled sweetly, tucking a strand of dark hair beneath his ear.

He appeared to be unable to speak, his gaze fighting to stay on your face instead of your tits bulging beneath your bra. “Ye-yes,” he whispered, wasting no time and raising his hands to cup your tits over your bra.

He did it sloppily, his fingers shaking slightly over the lacey hem of the cup of your bra. He licked his lips again, raising his eyes to meet yours, a question written on his bright eyes.

“I’ll give you another kiss if you unclasp my bra,” you mumbled with the ghost of a smirk on your face.   

His throat bobbed, a silent groan escaping him before his hands circled your back, fingers desperately searching for the hook of your bra.

“It’s on the front, Jeonghan,” you whispered with a soft smile.

“Oh…” he blurted with a nervous giggle, moving his hands to the front, looking at the intricate hook before giving it a try and unclasp it. “Ho-how do you do it? Like this?” he asked innocently, his fingers going around the clasp, undoing it by pure luck.

The bra came off, freeing your tits in a nearly obscene way. Jeonghan blinked as you slid your bra down your arms, making you smile wider at the shocked look on his face.

His eyes coasted from your face to your neck, from your collarbones to your chest. It was then that he pushed his tongue on his lower lip, right before sinking his teeth into it.

You grabbed his hands, taking them to your chest. His eager fingers squeezed your tits gently at first, a sigh escaping him when his hands came into contact with your skin. “You’re so warm,” he muttered softly.

“You’re cold,” you giggled, a shudder coursing through you when his fingers experimentally pinched your sensitive nipples.

“Sorry, I could just…” he whispered, making an attempt to remove his hands.

“No, it’s okay,” you mumbled, grabbing his face again, your fingers tangling in his mane of dark hair. “You deserve a kiss,” you said, keeping your touch gentle as you leaned down to kiss him again.

You felt the sharp intake of breath right as your lips touched his, he closed his lips on yours in a wet kiss. Jeonghan moved his hand to your waist, making you stiffen slightly under his cold touch.

Brushing his hair back, you moved a hand to hold his chin, while the other rested on his shoulder. “Are you ready for more?” you asked.

“Yeah, I want to keep going,” he replied with a weak tone.

“If you want to stop, you can say anything and I will,” you told him with seriousness coating your words.

He nodded, considering your proposition before saying: “We could establish a safeword.”

You arched one eyebrow, about to ask him if he was experienced in that. “How-,”

“I watch a lot of porn,” he explained hurriedly, noticing your expression. “I should also mention that I’m clean, and I have condoms… though they’re already expired,” he finished with a frown.

“That’s okay,” you chuckled, letting go of his chin. “I’m also clean, and on birth control. Well, what is your safeword?”

His eyes swam upwards, looking at the ceiling before returning to you. “Quixotic.”

You gave him a bemused look. “Can I ask why?”

“Because this is what it is, unreal. No one would believe me if I ever dared to tell a soul about this...” he said, his gaze trailing from your face down to your semi-naked body in front of him.

“Alright, baby boy,” you sighed, pleased with his reaction. “Are you okay with this, then?”

“A thousand percent,” he blurted, a shy smile adorning his face.

“I’m going to start undressing you now,” you said, carefully grabbing the sides of his hoodie.

“Ye-yeah, okay, go ahead,” he said, and you noticed that the stutter came and went. But he raised his arms, allowing you to remove his hoodie. He wore nothing beneath it, so you encountered his sleek torso.

“Lie down,” you instructed next, running your palms from his chest down, enjoying that his eyes were on you all the time, not losing a moment.

You searched around the room, spotting the mini figurines on his desk. They were hand-painted, and you assumed that they were special edition collectibles. “You have a lot of toys, Jeonghan,” you mumbled. “Did you put them all together?”

“Yes,” he croaked nervously. “All of them.”

“Such skilful hands,” you smirked, relishing in the awed look on his face upon being showered by your genuine praise. “Do you have more toys that you would want to show me?”

“Sh-sh-show you?” he whispered, and part of you believed for a second that he was unable to bring his voice any louder.

“Do you have toys for me to play around with? With you?” you asked, giving him a knowing look.

He gave you a perplexed look. “How did you know I-,”

“It’s not hard to guess, Hannie,” you tilted your head to one side, pouting slightly. “I mean, you don’t have a lot of girls over, do you? Do you go after other girls that aren’t me?”

“No. No,” he emphasized firmly. “You’re the first girl I’ve brought over in… like forever.”

“Mmn,” you hummed, pleased with his answer but not letting it show. “Well, tell me where I can find these toys,” you mumbled sweetly, littering lips with small, taunting kisses.

“In my drawer,” he choked out. “Bedside table.”

“Alright,” you leaned over, placing a sweet kiss on his bottom lip. “Don’t move,” you ordered, getting off the bed and his lap, to circle the bed, his gaze following you.

You smirked when you noticed that the only part of his body that moved was his eyes.

You opened the drawer, finding a bottle of lube that was already spent halfway through, a bunch of condoms that were indeed expired, and toys. “You have a wide variety here,” you pointed, giving him a look. “Do you play with yourself often?”

“Y-yeah,” he closed his eyes in shame. “Like I said, I don’t bring a lot of people over.”

“Mmmn,” you hummed, pretending to be pondering what to pick. Jeonghan indeed had a lot of toys, ranging from cock rings, dildos, fleshlights, and vibrators. “What shall I pick for tonight?”

“T-tonight? You mean there will be more nights like this?” he stammered uncontrollably.

“Only if you behave tonight,” you conditioned with a small smirk, but deep down you knew that he was going to be perfect for you.

And that was almost maddening.

“Pick whatever you prefer, I’m down,” he said, and you saw him grow a little bit more confident.

“I have an impression that you’re into cock rings,” you smirked at him, looking at the variety of cock rings he owned, some with vibrators, some without. You grabbed a simple set of two adjustable cock rings, which were slick and black.

Jeonghan shifted slightly on the bed as you returned to him, placing each of your knees on the sides of his hips. His hands tentatively found your hips, grabbing you over your skirt. “God,” he whispered to himself when you lowered the weight of your body on top of him, sitting on top of him.

It was then that you noticed by feeling his erection just how big he was. You shot him a look that told him you were impressed. “Jeonghan-,”

“I’d advise you to hurry,” he said, trembling slightly under your weight.

You emitted a nervous giggle despite yourself. “Don’t tell me you finish fast,” you said with a mocking tone, trying your best to mask your awe. You ground your hips, pressing your ass down on his bulge.

“Fuck,” he gritted with a tiny tone, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you mumbled sweetly, leaning over to prop a light kiss on his bottom lip. “There’s nothing wrong with that, Hannie. In fact, we can have more fun with that.”

He blinked twice, a frown appearing on his face. “What? How?”

You brushed his cheek with the back of your finger, finishing by cupping his chin. “I could put this on you,” you motioned to the cock ring in your hand, “and I’ll have fun making you come again and again until you can’t anymore.”

An exhale escaped him, his eyes widening once again. “Fuck, please, yes, yes, please do that,” he blurted quickly, much as if he could not contain himself.

“Want me to use you, Hannie?” you asked, realizing that you had hit a weak point for him.

His eyelashes fluttered, a small choked-out sound coming from his lips. “Yes, please... use me.”

You smiled, pleased with his answer. “Let’s put this on you, baby boy,” you said, moving from his lap to stand before the foot of the bed. Hooking your fingers on the band of his sweat, you dragged them down his legs, leaving him with his white briefs only.

“Mmn,” you hummed quietly, looking at the way his erection was tenting his underwear.

Slowly, you tugged the fabric down, Jeonghan bit his bottom lip, keeping his gaze on your expression. The band of his briefs inched down, and his cock sprung free, resting on his lower abdomen.

Fuck. He was big, even bigger than you imagined when you felt him. You would take a while adjusting to his size, you knew it. Your mouth salivated at the thought, the thought of riding him raw, the thought of making him come inside you, over and over again. You wanted to make him yours, to ruin him.

“Let’s take this slow, yes?” you said primly, pressing a knee on the bed and between his legs to lean down and press kiss on his pretty lips.

“No, please, don’t take it slow,” he choked out, a hand sneaking beneath your skirt to feel your hip.

“I haven’t even touched you yet,” you emphasized with a smirk. “That bad you want me already?”

He nodded his head eagerly. “Suck me, fuck me, I don’t care, just have your fun with me,” he pressed, removing his hand from your hip.

“What if my kind of fun is to torture you slowly?” you tested him, studying him with your eyes.

His lower lip trembled slightly when you slid your hand from his chest down his abdomen. “I d-don’t wanna come too soon,” he said, cursing under his breath when your fingertip reached his pubic hair.

“Could you come untouched, then?” you wondered, quirking an eyebrow.

“I don’t know. Right now I feel like I could,” he replied.

You gave him a soft laugh. “Oh, I’m going to have fun with you,” you assured.

“Please do.”

Your fingers inched further down, circling around his shaft. A strangled gasp left him, his breath brushing against your lips, reciprocating your quick kiss as you started jerking him off slowly, exploring his cock.  “You know how many times I fantasized about this?” you asked with a low tone.

“This?” he closed his eyes. “I don’t know, once?”

“You constantly get on my nerves, Jeonghan,” you rolled your hand on his cock, smearing him all over with his precum leaking from its slit. “I wanted to have you like this since you started sitting next to me.”

“Really?” he breathed with the ghost of a smile. “I knew it.”

“You planned it?”

“I didn’t plan shit,” he blurted with a hollow laugh. “I hoped. I hoped you looked at me, I wanted to talk to you, but never could.”

The movement of your hand stilled. “All the things you did to nag me, you didn’t do them on purpose?”

“Not at first, no. I promise,” he smirked innocently. “I just noticed that you would pay attention to me, so I started to do it more frequently.”

Shock buried itself deep within you, making the features of your face go lax, and your mouth opened wide in shock. “Oh, you bad boy,” you whispered reproachingly, switching to a wide smile.

You moved back so you could get a better view of his body, his cock still in your hand. You were stroking him gently, but he was hard for you, his tip reddened and leaking precum as you had never seen another do.

“Yeah,” he said softly, noticing the light shock on your face. “Please hurry.”

“Alright,” you conceded at last, moving the cock ring on his shaft, adjusting it firmly to his girth, then you did the same to his ballsack. “How is that?” you asked with a gentler tone.

“I can take more,” he said, his brown eyes absorbing you.

“There?” you asked, adjusting the ring to strangle him a bit more.

“Ye-yeah,” he breathed, shifting on the bed in nervousness. “Fuck,” he said under his breath when you continued stroking him with one hand, checking him for any signs of discomfort but only finding pleasure on his face.

His mouth dropped open, his eyes fluttered before shutting, and his throat throbbed as he swallowed.

You leaned over, smirking to yourself before you gave him a broad stroke to his long shaft with your tongue.

“Fuck!” he forced out, his eyes snapping open.

You laughed, licking the reddened cockhead, picking up the precum that was leaking from the slit. Jeonghan was a babbling mess, trembling on his bedcovers, breathing raggedly. His face was priceless, scrunched up in utter bliss, his cock covered in your drool.

You teased the swollen ridge of his head with the tip of your tongue, licking it playfully with swift jabs, a hand squeezing his balls gently, the other stroking his long shaft, pushing him further for his early release.

What caught your attention was that he made no move to touch your head or your hair. His hands balled into fists, clenching the bedcovers in an attempt to hold a little longer.

But you continued pumping him with one hand, ignoring the way his eyes widened. Circling his cockhead with your lips, you began sucking it as you would a popsicle, making slurping sounds. You teased him like this, making you with the bulbous head of his cock, holding his gaze with your own.

The expressions he made were priceless, his mouth open, his eyes coasting from yours to your lips on him, to your hand pumping him.

“Ah–fuck, do-don’t—I’m gonna, I’m gonna, g-god,” he murmured quickly but gave you enough time to remove your mouth from his head.

It was too late, a long and pleased sigh left him as ropes of cum spurted from his tip, and just kept coming, dripping from his slit down to his shaft, covering your fingers around him. You cussed with a sigh, looking at the warm mess coating your hand, the beads of cum scattered on his lower abdomen.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he drawled pathetically, closing his eyes tightly. “Fuck, it just feels so good,” he said, mouthing apologetic words over and over.

“You’re good, baby,” you hushed, noticing the furious red tinting the tip of his ears in shame. “Can I keep going?”

He gulped before nodding with his head. “Yes,” he croaked, but his eyebrows drew inward slightly. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, stroking his shaft with your dirty hand, smearing him with cum all over. “I’m having fun.”

“But-but…” he trailed off when you moved, climbing down the bed.

Putting on a show, you finished undressing before him, removing your skirt and your ruined panties with your dainty fingers, leaving your high-knee socks on purpose. You climbed back on the bed, moving towards him, placing each knee at his sides on the bed.

Jeonghan just fell into a deeper fascination. You saw it on his face, how his features fell upon the sight of you utterly naked and on top of him.

“I said don’t worry,” you mumbled, stroking him gently again with your hand, enjoying that his cock was still hard. “I can make myself feel good, and you’re going to help me with that.”

“How?” he croaked.

“Well, we agreed that I’d use you, no?” you cooed softly. “And I want to suck you and ride you until you’re spent.”

His hands searched for you, his fingers caressing your legs, feeling you up timidly. He gave you a tiny nod with his head, unable to utter a word.

“You want that, baby?” you muttered, his cum already cooled in your hand but you just kept going. “You came so much, Hannie… I want you to do that when you’re inside me.”

“I-I… fuck. I want that too—all of that,” he said, now building up confidence. “I want to feel you, please?”

“Not before you come again like this,” the motion of your hand-picked up some speed, your fingers tightening around his shaft.

“No, please, please, I need to feel you,” he closed his eyes, tears falling from the corners when you moved back to wrap your mouth around his sensitive cockhead. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, no, no…”

He sucked in a breath, the grunts spilling from his lips only egging you on. You sucked him harshly, tasting his cum with your tongue pressed to the tip, hollowing your cheeks out as your hand kept pumping him relentlessly.

The ring helped keep his erection for longer, but something inside you told you that he could do this even without it. A cunning thought told you that he would be a great sub for you with little training.

“Too much,” he breathed without complaint, there was an elated smile on his face as he sank his head back onto the pillows. “God… ah, please…”

Instinctively, you removed your mouth from his cockhead just as ropes of cum spurted from its reddened tip. Jeonghan tensed and writhed on the bedcovers, choked-out sobs falling from his parted lips. You moved your lips to kiss his shaft, as more beads of cum dripped down. 

“Thank you… Fuck, that was amazing,” he croaked languidly, opening his eyes.

With a shudder in excitement, you noticed the clumped eyelashes, and the tears falling from the corners of his pretty eyes. You realized then, that Jeonghan would become your obsession.

His cock started to go soft in your hand, but somehow you knew that it would not take him too long before he was ready for round three.

“You did amazing, baby. Let’s take this off for now,” you mumbled sweetly, arranging your fingers to get the ring off him, not paying attention to the mess smeared all over him and your hands. The dirtier the better.

And it seemed like Jeonghan shared the same fascination. He bit his lower lip, much as if he could not resist it.

“Can I ask you something?” his tone was low, but timid at the same time.

“Sure,” you conceded with a small smile.

“Did you know that I like you?” he asked, his voice shaking so much that he ended with a mere whisper.

“No,” you replied with honesty, getting a tingling feeling inside you, blooming into a shudder.

“Really?” he cocked his head on the bedcover. “So what would you have done if I had rejected your advances?” 

You paused, sitting on top of his messy abdomen. You coughed up a low chuckle, shrugging with ease. “Then I would have moved on,” you blinked at him slowly, enjoying the dazed look in his eyes. “I guess I hoped that you liked me too.”

He clicked his tongue softly negating with his head as he said, “Insane… this is insane.”

You found yourself smiling broadly at him, your chest swelling with endearment for him. You brought a clean hand to pinch his chin, and he instinctively opened his mouth, biting the tip of your finger softly, the act so innocent that it made you chuckle.

A rush coursed through you upon having his wet tongue on your fingers, but you were distracted swiftly, noticing that he had grown hard again. “I take that you’re ready for me?”

“Fuck… yes,” he whispered with a mischievous smile.

“What’s that?” you arched one eyebrow.

He made a small motion to shake his head. “Nothing...” he said, but then he reconsidered, “So I mangled a copy of Frankenstein and that was it for you? Should I do it more often?”

 “No,” you deadpanned, the conversation suddenly turning serious to you. “I hate what you do to books… But you know what? Maybe.”

“Ah, okay, okay,” he laughed, his breath hitching when you repositioned your hips on him, aligning your pretty pussy with his long dick. “Fuck,” he gritted, shooting you an exasperated look. “Raw?”

“Only if you want it, Hannie,” you cooed softly, grabbing his shaft. “If not, I’m okay with you eating me out.”

“I haven’t actually given head before,” he blurted, anxiously gripping your hips in anticipation, but then he gave you a nod with his head. “I want it, please, I want to feel you.”

You smiled at him. “Oh, you really are perfect,” you sighed, shifting on top of him, enjoying his gaze on your body, right where you were about to meet with his cock. You slipped the tip of his cock between your folds, teasing yourself and him a little.

“Ssshit,” he hissed, moving on the bed anxiously, but his dark eyes were still on your pussy, waiting for you to give him what he desperately wanted.

His hands clenched on the soft skin of your hips, his fingernails digging into you so harshly you knew you would leave marks in a few minutes.

“Don’t make me tie you,” you said, your tone quivering slightly. It was then when you paid attention to your own body, the way you were aching to feel him, to feel the stretch his long cock would make you feel, you wanted to know how deep he could reach inside you.

“Another night, maybe?” he teased, mustering some courage.

Your heart fluttered upon seeing a tint of attitude behind that tiny, but devilish smirk. “Another night…” you conceded, pushing his cock with your fingers so that its bulbous head met your entrance, your mouth instantly falling open when you started to ease down on his long and veiny shaft.

“God,” he whispered.

“Oh, Jeonghan!” you cried, sinking down on him with a raw and drawn-out moan. You continued to sit down on him, shuddering as his dick stretched your walls deliciously, making you take your other hand to stroke your clit in gentle motions to ease the slight sting.

“Well, that is all the time I have for you today,” Professor Blackwood called loudly as your fellow classmates stood from their chairs, dragging them across the floor loudly, snapping you awake from the memory.

You jolted quite embarrassingly, licking your lips in an attempt to bring the muscles of your face alive. Realizing that had been fantasizing about Jeonghan for the remainder of the lecture, you could feel that your panties were soaked, and sticking to your throbbing core.

Jeonghan did not move from his seat either. He was bouncing a knee, sharing the same tension you were feeling, he shot you a knowing look.

“My place or yours?” you smirked. 

› author's note: HEYOOOOOO

it's finally here! i am sorry it took me so long, the last 10 days of october kicked my ass 😭😭😭😭 i am still recovering from those days lol

it also took me a while to write this one because i can't for the life of me, imagine jeonghan as a loser because to me he is the coolest human being on earth. even if he is a loser at times, i just can't, he is the coolest to me :3

also, remember his iconic s-s-s-s-say the name ? that is what i pictured whenever i wrote that hannie stuttered 😭

anyway, that is it. i'll come back with more hannieween fest fics and maybe i'll post lights out soon hehehehe

toodles! thank you so so much for your support! 🙂

support me on ko-fi? 🥹🩵

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[1-800-local-slut]

Sticky and Disgusting

In honor of my favorite crash out, my favorite tweaker, here's how I feel like nasty sex with JJ would be. I know I was supposed to upload last night but I was bawling my heart out, so I hope this makes up for it <3

༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻༺༻

𑁍 JJ fucks, and he does it good too. He's driven women insane, married women, and single women alike text his phone about how much they miss him, how they just can't forget him.

𑁍 But since meeting you, he's elevated his skills quite a bit and knows how to get you in the mood and usually he gets horny first

𑁍 Walking down the street and sees a swimsuit he wants to see you in? Hard. Laying down and randomly thinking about you? Hard. A hug? I don't even have to say it at this point

𑁍 JJ likes listening to something that puts him in the mood

𑁍 Anything with a slow pace he can roll his body perfectly in time too

𑁍 He's willing to get down anywhere anytime, but he's the type that when he gets the chance to make things nice he will

𑁍 His favorite place is your room. You're his kook princess, and you have this fancy ass bedroom with your parents who hate him downstairs and your brother who also hates trying to tone out the noise of you whimpering JJ’s name like a prayer

𑁍 Blue LED lights, a ring light that he fingered out how to set different colors too, and now you two were fucking under a sea of velvet-colored lights

𑁍 He would take it slow depending on his mood. He's slowly rolling his hips into you, his necklace dancing in your face, and your legs are trembling while he's leaving wet kisses down your sweaty neck and whispering perversions in your ears

"Say my name, I know you can do it." "You like that? Yeah, I know you do."

𑁍 And he's so cocky because he knows no one fucks you as good as he does.

𑁍 He knows every part of you, which fleshy part of your body to press down on to have you arching your back off the mattress and wondering what you did to receive a blessing like this

𑁍 Speaking of pressing, JJ likes fingering you. He'll pull you into his lap, shirt pulled up to reveal those tits he loves so much and make out with you slowly but aggressively while he finger fucks you just right

𑁍 Your eyes are closed while he picks up the pace and he's watching you lean back with your legs shaking around his waist as his palm rubs against your clit. The room is hot and JJ's fingers are covered in cream as you let out pleas for release.

𑁍 JJ can never deny you (yes he can, he's done it before when he wanted to see how long he could edge you too and you got pissed and didn't blow him for two weeks) so he keeps going until you boil over to a finish that JJ has only seen in porn. He wished he set up his camera, so he could get that sound on video

𑁍 There was always next time. And you'd let JJ do anything to you and he loved that so much

𑁍 The first night he realized was when his hands automatically went to around your neck and gave you a tender squeeze and when he withdrew his hands an apologized, and you shyly told him to do it again. He came so hard that night his eyes hurt from how they rolled back in his head

𑁍 And it never ends with that, from there, JJ holds up his fingers for you to lick clean and because you're his girl you eagerly do it that makes JJ's heart swell

𑁍 He likes missionary. It's simple, but he gets to look you in the face while he does things to you that would kill your grandmother if she knew.

𑁍 Having you on your back while he sinks slowly into you at first just to see your reaction when he first slides in

𑁍 That warm, creamy feeling, like putting his nuts in warm pudding. He likes to go in, all the way to the base first, just to see you look in his eyes while wearing the necklace with a little 'J' around your neck that you got for your six-month anniversary that made him cry when he first saw it

𑁍 He starts rough though. He just needs too. Sometimes he eases into it, but on certain nights he just can't

𑁍 He loves when you moan his name with a gasp that says that's the stuff that you love, when you let out choked little moans of 'right there' and 'just like that baby'

𑁍 Oh and high sex? Don't even get him started. Its a little ridiculous, the way he twitches a little more and presses soft kisses all over you because JJ is a little love bug when he's high and doesn't have it in him to bruise your ass cheeks

𑁍 Angry sex. JJ gets angry, so very easily. And he loves when you're willing to let him get it out of his system on you instead of someone's property.

𑁍 He's grabbing your face and making you look him in the eyes, he's holding a firm grip on your waist while he plows into you like he was trying to fuck you to sleep (which he has done time and time again), he has you with your ass raised in the air and slapping it like a punching bag

𑁍 He's trembling from rage, and from how good you are for him, how he's shaking and his brows are furrowed while you bounce back against him. Your manicured nails are gripping the sheets, and his hand is fisting your hair while holding you into the pillows

𑁍 Don't be afraid to take control over him though. JJ likes it when you push him on the bed and sit down on his dick like it's where your meant to be.

𑁍 He wants you to ride him like you hardly care about him. He wants you to bounce up and down, nails scraping down his chest ignoring how red he's turning and how he's whimpering out warnings that he was about to cum

𑁍 When you start bouncing up and down harder, while he's twitching and trying to hold onto your hips, and you do that little grinding thing when you circle your hips around and rub up against his abs so he cums inside of you while letting out moans that were so out of character that he would refuse to admit that was him if anyone ever saw that on tape

𑁍 Drunk sex, when you two stumble in from a party tipsy and you're suddenly desperate to blow him and who was he to tell you no.

𑁍 Take him down your throat and he'll cum right there. He's done it a few times. He watching you bob your head up and down, eyes staring up at him with an evil glint in your eyes

𑁍 Leaving kisses all over his chest and down his stomach, your lip gloss and lipstick smearing down his stomach and he feels a warm fluttering feeling in his stomach

𑁍 When you both cum, it makes a mess. He likes it messy, he truly does. When he pulls out and cums on your stomach or his personal favorite is cumming on your pussy so he can't tell when your mess ends and his begins.

𑁍 When you leave a creamy ring around his base, or when he cums on your ass cheeks. When he face fucks you like you're a human flesh light and you have tears and spit streaming down your face before giving him a sloppy kiss that has him weak in the knees, when he cums so hard he drools a bit and you kiss him anyways because you love anything from him, when you ride his face like a mechanical bull and when you get up he looks like he just went down a water park ride.

𑁍 You two always, and I mean ALWAYS leaving a giant stain on your sheets, his sheets, his bike, your clothing (mostly ending up being your swimsuit or panties from him pulling you aside at a kegger and rubbing you through the cloth of your swim suit until you came and quickly had to duck before a group passing by saw you two), and it's always a terrible mess to clean up.

𑁍 Sweat, spit, cum, tears, it's a disgusting mess and by God JJ lives to make it any chance he gets

[the-winter-spider]

Mine | One Shot

Parings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word count: 10k+

Warnings: Probably the fluffiest thing ive ever written, of course angst.

A/N: Yall this AU bucky branch ive extended has been life changing for me lmaoooo

The first time you meet Bucky Barnes, he’s already looking at you, a soft, open look in his eyes that sends a jolt through you. You’ve just started a new job in town and ended up here at a cozy, dimly lit bar one night after work. You sit down a few stools away, glancing over at him—he’s warm, approachable, not exactly the type you’d expect to find sitting alone.

You look away quickly, heart suddenly racing, though you’re not sure why. He’s a stranger, just someone you’ll see tonight and probably never again, but something about him feels safe in a way you haven’t felt in years.

A few minutes later, he moves closer, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Rough day?” he asks, voice gentle, as if he’s been waiting for you to say something first.

You nod, a little surprised by both his forwardness and the kindness in his tone. You’re used to handling things on your own, keeping walls up that no one’s ever bothered to climb. But something about Bucky makes you want to drop your guard, if only for a moment.

You offer Bucky a small smile, feeling strangely at ease under his gaze. “Yeah, you could say that,” you reply, letting out a quiet sigh. “It’s been… a long week. Just finished my first week at a new job, and I’m still finding my footing. Everything’s just a bit overwhelming, you know?”

Bucky nods, understanding flashing in his eyes. “New job, new town?” he asks, his tone inviting, like he genuinely wants to know, not just make conversation.

You nod, surprised at how easy it feels to open up. “Yeah, both, actually. I just moved here, so it’s been a lot of… adjustment.”

He tilts his head, his expression warm and reassuring. “That’s a lot to take on. I remember when I first moved here… let’s just say it wasn’t exactly a smooth transition.” He chuckles softly, the sound low and comforting, and you can’t help but smile.

“Really?” you ask, curious despite yourself. “What brought you here?”

His gaze softens as he considers the question, as though he’s debating just how much to share. “Needed a fresh start,” he says simply, a hint of something unspoken in his eyes. “Figured this was a good place to do that.”

You feel a pang of recognition—you understand that need to start over, to build something new. “I get that,” you murmur. “Sometimes… sometimes you just need a change to get things back on track.”

“Exactly,” he replies, his eyes brightening as he leans a little closer. “Sounds like we might have a bit in common, then.”

There’s a brief silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like the two of you are sharing something without needing to say it outright. You feel your usual guardedness slipping, replaced by a warmth that’s both thrilling and unsettling. It’s strange—he’s still a stranger, and yet he feels familiar, like someone you could trust, someone who understands.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his voice gentle, his gaze steady. “Just to celebrate surviving the first week. It’s no small thing.”

You smile, nodding as a rush of gratitude fills you. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Bucky signals to the bartender, ordering two drinks and settling back beside you, his posture relaxed. Bucky leans in, a warm smile lighting up his face as he listens, his full attention on you. It’s like he’s hanging on every word, nodding and chuckling at all the right moments, his eyes crinkling at the corners every time you say something that amuses him.

“So, then,” you continue, trying to hold back a laugh as you recall the memory, “I walked into what I thought was the meeting room, you know, just trying to make a good first impression… only to realize it was the break room. And everyone just kind of stared at me like I was some intruder there to steal their coffee.”

Bucky lets out a genuine laugh, shaking his head. “Oh no! And you didn’t just play it cool?”

You grin, rolling your eyes. “Nope, not at all. I panicked and mumbled something about being ‘lost’—in the most literal sense. And then, to top it off, I nearly backed into a coffee machine trying to escape!"

He laughs harder, the sound warm and genuine, filling the space between you. “I think that’s endearing,” he says, his tone sincere. “Bet they thought you were charming.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say sarcastically, unable to hide your smile. “If by ‘charming’ you mean they think I’m the odd one in the office now, then yeah, absolutely. As if being the 'new girl' wasnt enough"

He smirks, leaning his chin on his hand as he watches you, that mischievous glint still in his eyes. “Hey, at least you’re memorable. It’s not every day people meet someone with personality.”

You laugh, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, so I have ‘personality’ now?”

“Definitely,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “You’re… different. In a good way.” His gaze softens, and for a moment, you see something more serious flicker in his eyes, something that makes your heart skip a beat.

Trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in your chest, you shake your head, focusing on lightening the mood. “So,” you say, grinning, “what about you? Any embarrassing first-day stories?”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, way too many,” he says, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “When I started at my last job, they had this big company lunch. I was so nervous that I accidentally grabbed the CEO’s sandwich off his plate, thinking it was from the catering table.”

Your jaw drops. “No! What did you do?”

He laughs, shaking his head at the memory. “Honestly? I didn’t even realize until I’d taken the first bite. The CEO looked at me, just stunned, and I kind of just froze, sandwich halfway to my mouth. I thought for sure I was going to get fired on the spot.”

You’re laughing so hard you nearly spill your drink. “So, did he say anything?”

“Oh, he said plenty,” Bucky says, chuckling along with you. “But, somehow, he found it funny. Or maybe he just took pity on me, who knows? Either way, I survived, but I don’t think I’ll ever live it down.”

You both sit there, laughter fading into comfortable silence as you sip your drinks, sharing those lighthearted moments and embarrassing stories that somehow make you feel closer. After a few beats, he glances at you, his expression softening.

“It’s nice, you know… hearing all this,” he says quietly. “Feels like I’m getting to know the real you.”

Your cheeks flush, but his words make you feel seen in a way that’s both thrilling and terrifying. “Yeah… I think maybe you are,” you say softly.

His gaze holds yours, an unspoken understanding passing between you. And as you sit together, in the dim light of the bar with laughter still lingering in the air, you realize that this—this feeling of being understood, of being truly known—is something you didn’t even know you were missing. And with Bucky, it feels like you’re finally finding it.

By the time you’re finishing your second drink, you’re feeling lighter, the weight of the past week fading away, replaced by a warmth that seems to linger between you and Bucky.

“Well,” he says after a moment, glancing at his watch but making no move to leave. “Thank you for letting me share your first-week celebration. I don’t know about you, but I’d say this is the best part of any first week—meeting someone you didn’t expect to.”

You blush, looking down with a shy smile. “Yeah… me too.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, and in the back of your mind, you realize you’re hoping this won’t be the last time you see him. Maybe he feels the same way, because as you gather your things to leave, he clears his throat, a hint of nervousness flickering in his eyes.

“So, listen… if you ever want some company after work or need someone to talk to about the craziness of starting over, I’d be happy to be that person,” he says, his voice soft, a little uncertain.

Your heart skips a beat, and you smile, feeling that warmth spread through you again. “I’d like that, Bucky. I’d really like that.”

With one last shared smile, you both exchange numbers, a quiet promise lingering in the air that this, whatever it is, isn’t just a fleeting moment.

“You know,” he says, after a quiet moment, “if you’re free tomorrow, i can show you the best place for coffee in the morning.”

For reasons you can’t explain, you say yes. And it’s the first of many yeses you’ll say to him, even if you can’t shake the feeling that opening up to someone can only lead to getting hurt.

The next morning, you meet Bucky outside a quaint little café, the kind with mismatched chairs and hanging plants that give it a cozy, lived-in feel. Sunlight spills across the sidewalk, and there’s a crispness in the air that makes everything feel brighter, more hopeful.

You both order coffee and pastries and find a table outside. As you settle in, he looks over at you with that same soft, open smile that feels like a balm to your heart. You’re not sure if it’s the warmth of the coffee or his presence, but somehow you feel yourself letting go, leaning into the morning with him as if it’s a part of something bigger.

“So, did you always know you wanted to be here?” he asks, taking a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours.

You shake your head with a little laugh. “Not exactly. Moving here was… spontaneous. I just needed a change, I guess. I don’t know if it’s where I want to end up, but it feels like a good place to be, at least for now.”

He nods thoughtfully, a smile tugging at his lips. “I get that. Change is… good sometimes. Scary, but good.”

There’s a brief silence before you turn the question back on him. “What about you? Have you always been here?”

Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. “No, I bounced around a lot before I landed here. I’m from Brooklyn, actually. Grew up in a small apartment with my mom and sister, Rebecca. It wasn’t much, but it was home.”

He pauses, his gaze drifting, and you can see a fondness there, mingled with nostalgia. “My sister used to make me these ridiculous lunches for school. You know those sandwiches where it’s way too much peanut butter, like it’d practically glue your mouth shut?”

You laugh, picturing a young Bucky struggling with a lopsided sandwich. “So what, she was trying to get you to stop talking?”

“Maybe! It probably worked a few times,” he says with a grin. “She was older than me, and she loved teasing me. But she’d also defend me to the ends of the earth if I needed it. She was tough but loyal—still is. We used to spend summers playing stickball in the streets or riding our bikes down to the pier until the sun set. Those were good days.”

You find yourself smiling, caught up in the warmth of his stories. There’s something about the way he talks about his sister and his childhood that feels so genuine, so open, and it makes you feel safe somehow, like you could share parts of yourself that you usually keep hidden.

“Sounds like you were close,” you say softly.

“Yeah,” he replies, nodding. “We still are, even though we don’t see each other as much these days. But you know how it is. Life gets busy, people drift….” He trails off, looking a little pensive, but then he catches your gaze and offers a reassuring smile. “But we still check in. She likes to give me a hard time about how I’ve ‘softened up’ over the years.”

“Oh, so you used to be a real troublemaker, huh?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But only in the fun ways. My friends and I—especially my best friend, Steve—always found ways to keep things interesting. Steve was the wild one, though, always dragging me into things. He’d get these ideas—like, one summer, he convinced me we could make a raft and take it out on the East River.”

“Wait, you didn’t actually try that, did you?” you ask, laughing as you imagine two boys clinging to a makeshift raft.

“Oh, we tried,” Bucky says, shaking his head with a chuckle. “It was a disaster. We were out there for maybe ten minutes before the whole thing started falling apart, and we ended up soaking wet, half-drowning, while everyone on the shore was just watching and laughing. My mom nearly had a heart attack when she found out.”

You laugh, clutching your coffee cup as you picture the scene. “So, I guess you didn’t end up the next great explorers of Brooklyn?”

“Nope, that dream died real fast,” he says, grinning. “But that was Steve for you—big dreams, no plans. I think that’s why we were close, though. He’d always push me to do things I wouldn’t even think about trying. He’d challenge me in ways that I didn’t know I needed. Kind of made me who I am today.”

You see a glimmer of nostalgia and perhaps a little sadness in his eyes as he talks about Steve, and you wonder if they’re still close. But before you can ask, he leans forward, his expression softening as he looks at you.

“So, how about you?” he asks, changing the subject. “Any siblings?”

You nod, taking a small sip of your coffee. “Yeah, an older brother. We were close growing up, but life kind of… pulled us in different directions. He was the one who kept me out of trouble, actually. He fled home as soon as he was old enough” You chuckle sadly “Always thought he was the responsible one, and I was the daydreamer. Guess some things never change.”

Bucky’s eyes light up, as if he’s seeing a new side of you. “Daydreamer, huh? What kind of dreams?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re not sure how to answer. But then you feel that familiar warmth between you, the kind that feels safe, inviting you to share a little more of yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t know anymore,” you admit softly. “I guess that’s part of why I moved here. Trying to figure it out, trying to find something that feels… real.”

He nods, his gaze understanding, as if he sees right through you in a way that’s both comforting and a little terrifying. “Well, I think that’s brave,” he says quietly. “Taking a leap, starting fresh… not everyone has the guts to do that.”

The way he says it, so genuine and reassuring, makes you feel like maybe you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, like maybe the path isn’t as uncertain as it once felt.

The conversation drifts into comfortable silence, and you both take a moment to sip your coffee and enjoy the warmth of the sun. After a while, he leans back, his expression thoughtful as he looks over at you.

“You know, meeting someone like you… it’s kind of a rare thing,” he says, his voice soft but full of a sincerity that takes you by surprise. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels… right.”

His words settle into your heart, and you feel a warmth spreading through you, a connection that feels deeper than anything you expected to find in a new town, with a man you’ve only just met. And in that moment, with the sunlight catching in his eyes, you feel a quiet certainty that this��whatever this is—might be the beginning of something real.

Over the next few weeks, life begins to settle into a new rhythm. Days are marked by coffee dates that turn into long walks down the quiet streets, and those walks stretch into late-night conversations on park benches under streetlights. Bucky has quickly become your favorite part of the day, and even though neither of you has spoken about how you feel, there’s a growing closeness—a feeling of inevitability that’s hard to ignore.

One night, after a cozy dinner together, you find yourselves lingering on a quiet bench, watching the lights of the city reflected on the river. The silence between you is easy, comfortable, but there’s an unspoken tension there, too—something that hovers in the space between words, in the quiet glances you both share.

Bucky looks over at you, a warm smile playing at his lips. “I can’t believe it’s only been a few weeks,” he says, his voice soft. “Feels like I’ve known you… longer.”

You nod, feeling your heart race at the sincerity in his eyes. “I know what you mean,” you murmur, glancing down to hide your own smile. “I don’t usually… open up to people like this. But with you, it just feels easy.”

He grins, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. “So you’re saying I’m easy to talk to?”

You laugh, nudging him with your shoulder. “Don’t get too cocky, Barnes. I’m just saying you have… potential.”

“Oh, potential, huh?” he teases, giving you a mock-hurt look. “Wow. Just when I thought I was doing well.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling a lightness you hadn’t felt in a long time. Somehow, Bucky has a way of making you feel like yourself, like you don’t have to be anything other than exactly who you are.

As the night deepens, you both head home, reluctantly parting with lingering glances and unspoken words hanging in the air. But when you finally get home, your phone lights up with a text, and you feel a thrill run through you as you see Bucky’s name.

Bucky: So, I’m not getting cocky, but… any chance I passed the “potential” test?

You laugh, typing out a reply.

You: I’d say you’re doing okay… so far.

Almost immediately, he texts back.

Bucky: Just okay? You’re killing me here. I might have to try harder.

You: I think I can handle that.

There’s a pause, and you watch as the typing bubble pops up again, wondering what he’ll say next.

Bucky: Just so we’re clear, I’m pretty sure you’re the highlight of my day. Don’t tell anyone—I’ve got a reputation to maintain.

You feel your cheeks warm, smiling at your phone. It’s strange how quickly he’s managed to find his way into your heart, and even stranger how natural it feels to be talking to him like this.

You: Highlight of your day, huh? That’s some big talk, Barnes.

Bucky: It’s not just talk, sweet girl....I mean it.

You pause, taking in the sincerity of his words. For a second, you wonder if he can feel the same pull you do, the same feeling that this could be something real.

You: Guess I’ll see what you come up with next time.

Bucky: Oh, so now I’m being challenged? I’ll have to think of something special.

You: Good luck with that, I’m a tough critic.

Bucky: Challenge accepted, darling.

His use of the word “darling” sends a thrill through you, and you feel yourself blush, biting your lip as you smile at the screen. The lighthearted back-and-forth carries on into the night, each text feeling like another step closer to something you’re both tiptoeing around, something you’re both afraid to fully acknowledge yet.

And as you finally say goodnight, you feel a contented warmth settle over you, the kind that promises there’s something real here, something waiting to unfold. But for now, the unspoken words, the quiet glances, and the sweet, flirty texts are more than enough, leaving you falling asleep with a smile on your face.

--

One night, you’re both walking through a nearby park, the cool evening air wrapping around you. It’s late enough that the world feels almost empty, like the two of you are the only ones who know this quiet part of the city. You’re talking about your favorite childhood movies, laughing over memories, and you feel a lightness in you, a happiness that’s been dormant for so long you’d nearly forgotten it was there.

“So you’re telling me,” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow as he glances over at you, “that you actually dressed up as an elf for three Halloweens in a row because of Lord of the Rings?”

You laugh, feeling your cheeks flush. “Yes! I was obsessed. It was all I wanted to do for years. I think I had pointy ears stashed in every drawer.”

Bucky grins, his eyes twinkling. “I can’t believe I missed out on that... bet you made a cute elf.”

“Oh, please.” You roll your eyes, trying to stifle a laugh. “It was… an intense phase. I still cringe a little thinking about it.”

“I don’t know,” he says, nudging you playfully. “I think it sounds perfect. I used to dress up as a knight when I was a kid. One time, I even convinced Steve to be the dragon.”

You laugh, picturing a younger version of him, full of life and laughter. “Please tell me there’s photographic evidence of that.”

“There might be,” he teases, smirking. “But I think you’re going to have to stick around a little longer before I start sharing the embarrassing childhood photos.”

Something in his tone, playful yet sincere, makes your heart skip a beat. You realize how much you look forward to these moments, how he’s become a part of your life in a way you never saw coming. There’s a softness about him that pulls you in, a kindness that makes you feel safe, and the thought of seeing where this goes fills you with a quiet excitement.

You walk a bit further, the silence between you comfortable, and he glances over, a question lingering in his eyes. “So,” he starts, a little hesitant. “Are you… happy here? I mean, you said you needed a change. Do you feel like this is it?”

You think about his question, about how you arrived here hoping to find a fresh start, not knowing if it would ever feel like home. But now, as you stand beside him, there’s a sense of belonging that surprises you.

“Honestly?” you say, your voice soft. “I think I am. It’s strange, but being here… it’s like I can breathe again. Like maybe I can finally be myself, without all the expectations I left behind.”

Bucky nods, his expression thoughtful, and he stops walking for a moment, turning to face you. “I’m glad,” he says quietly, his gaze holding yours. “You deserve that. You deserve… to feel free.”

His words sink into you, and for a moment, all you can do is look at him, taking in the gentleness in his eyes, the warmth in his smile. It’s almost too much—the idea that someone could see you this clearly, understand you so deeply.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “You don’t know how much that means to me.”

He reaches out, brushing his fingers against yours in a simple, tender gesture. “You don’t have to thank me,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I’m just glad I get to know you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his words that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re both standing there, the world around you quiet and still. You want to say something, to let him know how much he’s come to mean to you, how his presence feels like a light that’s brought you back to yourself. But the words catch in your throat, so instead, you simply squeeze his hand, letting the warmth of his touch speak for you.

----

Another evening, you’re both sitting on a small bench at the edge of the park, looking up at the stars. Bucky has his arm around you, pulling you close against the chill of the night, and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling a peace you haven’t felt in years.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asks suddenly, his voice soft, as though he’s been thinking about the question for a while.

You’re quiet for a moment, surprised by the question. You used to avoid thinking about the future, unsure of where you fit in, always second-guessing yourself. But now, with him, the idea of the future doesn’t feel as daunting.

“Yeah,” you say finally. “I do. But it’s different now. I guess… I’m not so afraid of it anymore.”

He nods, a small smile on his face. “I’m glad,” he says, his voice filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. He hesitates, glancing over at you. “I know we’re just… starting this, whatever it is, but I hope you know that I’m here, for all of it. I don’t… plan on going anywhere.”

The sincerity in his words makes you catch your breath, and you feel that familiar warmth rising in your chest, a mixture of gratitude and something deeper. You don’t say anything, instead reaching up to brush a gentle hand against his cheek, letting him know that you feel the same, even if the words are still forming in your heart.

As the night deepens, you sit there in a comfortable silence, his arm around you, his steady presence grounding you. And as you look up at the stars, you realize that for the first time in a long time, you’re not afraid of what lies ahead.

But yet, every time he leans a little closer, touches your hand, or tells you something vulnerable, you can’t help but feel that old anxiety creeping in, telling you to be careful. It’s as if you’re back to being a kid, watching your parents’ marriage shatter right in front of you. You’ve told yourself for years that love can’t be trusted, that letting people in only leads to pain.

---

One evening, when you’re sitting beside him at your favorite spot near the river, he reaches over, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re safe with me, you know?” he says softly, sensing the hesitation in your gaze.

The words linger in the air, and you look down, feeling your defenses rise again. “I don’t think you understand,” you murmur. “People leave. Or worse, they hurt you without even meaning to.”

Bucky takes your hand, holding it gently, grounding you. “I know,” he says quietly. “But maybe… maybe you don’t have to do this alone anymore.”

The river flows quietly beside you both, the soft murmur of water filling the silence between you. Bucky’s hand is still gently wrapped around yours, grounding you with a warmth that feels both comforting and unfamiliar. Part of you wants to pull away, to shield yourself from the vulnerability you feel creeping in, but there’s something about him that makes you feel safe, even when the memories are so raw.

You take a shaky breath, finally letting your eyes meet his. “My parents… they didn’t have the kind of love that you read about, or see in movies. It was messy and… destructive. They fought constantly—screaming, blaming each other for everything wrong in their lives. Growing up, I thought that was just how it was supposed to be. That love was meant to hurt.”

Bucky listens intently, his expression softening as you continue, no hint of judgment in his gaze. He’s just… there, holding space for you in a way that makes you feel seen, like you don’t have to hide.

You swallow, feeling the ache of those memories resurface. “I used to tell myself that when I grew up, I’d find someone who was different. Someone who wouldn’t treat me like my father treated my mother.” Your voice drops, barely a whisper now. “But when I left home, I fell for someone who was just like him. He was… careless, selfish. I gave everything I had because I thought that was what love was. And he hurt me, Bucky, over and over, but I convinced myself it was my fault, that if I just tried harder, he’d change.”

Bucky’s grip on your hand tightens, his gaze filled with a fierce protectiveness that you didn’t expect. You can see his jaw clench, as though he’s holding back words he wants to say, but he lets you continue, giving you the space you need.

“When he finally left,” you continue, your voice breaking slightly, “I felt… empty. Like I’d failed. Everyone always leaves, and somehow, I believed it was because of something I did or something I wasn’t. For a long time, I thought I didn’t deserve anything better.”

You feel a tear slip down your cheek, and before you can brush it away, Bucky reaches out, gently wiping it with his thumb. His touch is so tender, so careful, that it breaks something inside you, a wall you didn’t realize you were still holding up.

“You didn’t deserve that,” he says softly, his voice full of conviction. “None of it. And it wasn’t your fault.”

You try to look away, the old shame rising up, but he places a gentle hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing soothing circles on your skin. “Hey,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “Look at me.”

You meet his gaze, and the kindness there is almost too much to bear.

“I don’t care what your past looked like,” he says, his voice steady and certain. “None of that changes how I feel about you. You are worth more than any of the pain you’ve been through. You deserve love that feels safe, that feels steady. You deserve someone who chooses you, every single day, this is worth the risk to me, you're worth it to me"

The words sink into you, healing in a way you never thought possible. His hand rests on your cheek, grounding you, and for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be right. That maybe love doesn’t have to hurt.

Bucky leans in, his forehead resting gently against yours, his voice a soft promise. “I’m not going anywhere. I know it’s hard to believe, and I know trust doesn’t come easy. But I want to be here for you. Every single day.”

Your eyes close, and you feel his warmth surrounding you, filling the empty spaces you’ve carried for so long. He stays close, his presence steady and unyielding, like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed.

When you finally find your voice, it’s soft, almost trembling. “How can you be so sure?”

He smiles, a gentle, understanding smile that melts every last piece of fear you’re holding onto. “Because I know what it’s like to feel broken. And I also know that finding someone who understands, who sees you for who you really are… that’s worth everything.”

In that moment, you feel a shift inside you, a glimmer of hope where there used to be only fear. Bucky is everything you thought you’d never find—kind, patient, willing to fight for you even when you’re not sure you can fight for yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, a tear slipping down your cheek, but this time it’s not one of sadness. It’s the relief of knowing that maybe, just maybe, you’re not alone anymore.

“I don’t know if I know how to love like that,” you admit quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky’s hand gently trails down to your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet his. “Then we’ll learn together,” he says softly, his gaze filled with a warmth and patience that takes your breath away. “One day at a time.”

And as he pulls you into his arms, holding you close against the quiet backdrop of the river, you let yourself believe that this—this love, this kindness, this man—might just be the home you’ve been searching for all along..

You stay there together by the river, wrapped in the warmth of Bucky’s arms as the soft murmur of the water flows beside you. His steady heartbeat under your cheek is calming, and you close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the safety of the moment. It’s as if time has slowed, like the world has paused just for the two of you, letting you both breathe.

After a while, he pulls back slightly, enough to look down at you, his hand still resting gently against your cheek. There’s a softness in his gaze, a vulnerability that mirrors your own, as if he’s waiting for just the right moment.

His thumb traces a soft line along your cheek, and he hesitates, as though he’s searching for the right words. Finally, he takes a deep breath, his voice low and steady, full of a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Will you do me the honor,” he begins, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine, “of being mine, darling?”

The question hangs in the air, his words so simple yet carrying so much weight, so much love. You feel the familiar urge to pull back, to put up your defenses, but with Bucky standing there, his gaze unwavering, you realize that you don’t want to run anymore. Not from him.

A warmth spreads through you, a quiet happiness that feels like it’s been waiting for this moment all along. You meet his gaze, feeling every ounce of his love and devotion, and you realize that, with him, you don’t have to be afraid. Not of love, not of loss—because he’s here, and he’s choosing you.

With a soft, shaky breath, you nod, a smile breaking across your face as you whisper, “Yes, Bucky. I’m yours.”

A look of pure joy lights up his face, and he pulls you close, pressing his forehead against yours as he lets out a relieved laugh, as if he’s been waiting for this moment as long as you have. His hand cups the back of your neck, and he murmurs softly, his voice full of warmth and certainty, “I'm not going anywhere ever, your stuck with me angel"

He leans in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips, and in that moment, everything else fades away. It’s just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other, and you feel like you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

As he pulls you back into his arms, holding you close against the night, you know that this—this love, this connection, this man—is home. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe love doesn’t have to hurt; maybe it can be kind, steady, and true.

---

Over the next few months, Bucky weaves his way into every part of your life, becoming as familiar and comforting as home itself. He’s there for all of it—the quiet, mundane moments, the small victories, and the heavy days when the past creeps in and weighs on you. It’s as if he knows exactly when to be there, a steady presence who never asks more of you than you’re ready to give.

One day, after a long day, you find yourself curled up on the couch with him, your head resting against his shoulder. You’re both wrapped in a comfortable silence, but he can sense that something’s weighing on you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, his fingers trailing soothingly along your arm. He doesn’t push, just leaves the door open, giving you the choice.

You hesitate for a moment, the familiar fear creeping in, but with him, it’s easier to let down your guard. You take a breath, leaning into his warmth as you begin to speak.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever stop carrying all of it with me,” you admit softly. “My parents… their anger was everywhere. They’d go from silence to shouting, always blaming each other. As a kid, I used to hide in my room, but I could still feel it, like their anger was seeping through the walls.”

Bucky’s hand stills, his fingers curling around yours, grounding you. He doesn’t interrupt, just listens, his eyes filled with a quiet empathy that makes it easier to continue.

“I used to think it was normal, that that was just… how love looked. Chaotic, painful. When I got older, I started building walls, just to keep people at a distance. It felt safer that way.”

He nods, squeezing your hand gently. “That must have been so hard,” he says quietly, his voice laced with understanding. “To grow up thinking that’s all there was to love.”

You nod, letting out a shaky breath. “I know it sounds strange, but I thought maybe I’d somehow inherited that anger, that chaos. Like… if I let anyone close, it would just repeat. That I’d end up hurting them, or they’d hurt me.”

Bucky’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, turning so that he’s fully facing you, his thumb brushing tenderly across your cheek. “You’re not them,” he whispers, his voice steady and sure. “And you don’t have to carry their mistakes.”

The kindness in his eyes, the unwavering gentleness, makes you feel like a knot is loosening in your chest. You hadn’t realized how heavy those fears had become, how deeply they’d settled into you.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper. “For being here. For listening.”

“Always,” he says, his hand still resting against your cheek. “I’ll be here, no matter what.”

On a lighter day, Bucky’s there for your small victories, too, celebrating them as if they’re his own. You remember a Friday afternoon, when you’d finally completed a major project at work, one you’d been stressing over for weeks. You’d texted him, excited but exhausted, and by the time you got home, you found him standing in your kitchen with a bottle of champagne and a cake with “You did it!” iced onto it in wobbly, uneven letters.

“You did all this… for me?” you ask, laughing as you read the words on the cake.

“Of course,” he says, grinning as he pops the cork on the champagne. “You’ve been working so hard, and I thought you deserved a little celebration.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling the warmth of his joy for you radiate through the room. “You know, no one’s ever celebrated something like this with me before.”

“Well,” he says, pouring two glasses and handing you one, “then it’s about time someone did, and in honoured it gets to be me"

You clink glasses, and as you take a sip, you realize just how much he’s become part of your life, filling the empty spaces you’d once thought would always be there.

You sip the champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on your tongue as you look at Bucky, the warmth of the moment settling over you like a blanket. He’s watching you with that easy, genuine smile, the kind that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world. You’d been working so hard, pouring everything you had into that project, and it was like he knew exactly how much you needed someone to see you, to be there, to celebrate this small victory with you.

“Really,” you say, setting down your glass and shaking your head with a laugh. “I still can’t believe you did all of this… for me. The cake, the champagne… It’s so thoughtful.”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “You deserve it. I know how hard you’ve been working.” He glances at the cake, chuckling a little. “Even if the cake looks like it was made by a five-year-old.”

“It’s perfect,” you say, a laugh escaping you as you look at the uneven letters again, and he grins, that familiar glint of mischief lighting up his eyes.

Over the past few weeks, he’s taken to saying those three words to you—quietly, simply, as if he’s known them all along. It usually happens in those gentle moments, the ones that sneak up on you and make you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. The first time he’d said it, you’d felt the words catch in your throat, and he’d squeezed your hand, smiling softly.

“It’s okay,” he’d whispered. “You don’t have to say it back. I just… wanted you to know.”

And he’s been true to his word, never pressuring you, never expecting more than you’re ready to give. He says it without hesitation, as though his love for you is as natural as breathing, and each time, it feels like another piece of the armor around your heart softens. You’ve been holding those words close, letting them settle, and tonight, with him standing here in your kitchen, celebrating you, it’s like they’re finally ready to take flight.

You take a breath, setting your glass down and looking at him, really looking at him. He’s so patient, so steady, just waiting for you to be ready, and in that moment, the words slip out, simple and true.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

For a moment, he looks surprised, his eyes widening just slightly. Then a slow, radiant smile spreads across his face, and he lets out a soft, relieved laugh, like he’s been holding onto a breath he didn’t realize he’d taken.

“Yeah?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, and there’s a gentleness in his gaze that makes your heart feel like it’s glowing.

You nod, a warmth blooming in your chest as you watch him, feeling the weight of those words sink in, wrapping around the two of you. “Yeah,” you say softly. “I love you.”

He takes a step closer, reaching out to take your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in that familiar way that makes you feel safe, cherished. He doesn’t say anything else—he doesn’t have to. The way he looks at you, like you’re the most precious thing in his world, says it all.

You stand there together, the sound of quiet laughter and clinking glasses filling the air, and as you look into his eyes, you know this is just the beginning of something beautiful.

---

One night, over a year after that moment by the river, you’re sitting on the back porch with him, wrapped in a blanket as you watch the stars. It’s quiet, peaceful, and he has his arm around you, pulling you close as you lean into him.

“Can I ask you something?” you murmur, breaking the silence.

“Anything,” he replies, his voice soft.

“Do you ever… I don’t know… feel like you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop?” you ask, the vulnerability of the question catching in your throat. “Like things are too good, and maybe it won’t last?”

He’s quiet for a moment, as if he’s considering your words, and then he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I used to,” he admits. “But then I realized that waiting for something to go wrong just robs you of all the good things you’ve got right here, right now.”

You nod, letting his words sink in. He has a way of grounding you, of making the fears that once felt so overwhelming seem smaller, more manageable.

“Look,” he says, pulling back slightly so he can look into your eyes, “I know you still have walls up baby, I know you’ve been through things I can’t even imagine. But none of that changes how I feel about you. You’re it for me sweet heart"

The sincerity in his eyes makes your heart race, and you feel that familiar warmth, that sense of safety you’ve come to cherish with him. You open your mouth to respond, but he reaches out, crashes his lips to yours, as his lips meet yours, everything else fades away. The quiet of the night, the cool breeze, the blanket wrapped around you both—none of it matters except the feel of him, warm and steady and here. His hand cradles the back of your head, gentle yet certain, as if he’s savoring this moment just as much as you are. There’s a tender urgency in the way he kisses you, a depth of feeling that words could never fully capture.

His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you even closer, and you find yourself letting go, allowing the barriers you’ve held up for so long to slip away. In his arms, every lingering fear, every shadow of doubt feels smaller, quieter. He’s the one constant you never thought you’d find, and here, beneath the blanket of stars, you feel safe enough to let him see all of you.

You run your hands along his shoulders, feeling the strength there, the solidity, as if to reassure yourself that he’s real, that he’s yours. He senses the hesitation in your touch and gently deepens the kiss, pouring his own quiet reassurance into each soft brush of his lips against yours. He’s unhurried, savoring the closeness, the warmth shared between you, as if he has all the time in the world.

When you finally pull back to catch your breath, his forehead rests against yours, his eyes soft and full of that familiar warmth that’s always steadied you. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering as he looks at you, his gaze tender and unguarded.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp. “I hope you know that.”

Your heart swells, and you can’t help but reach up, your fingers tracing his jaw, memorizing the lines of his face. “I do,” you whisper, smiling as you take in the love shining in his eyes. “And you’re everything to me, too.”

The moment is gentle, intimate, a quiet affirmation of all that you’ve come to mean to each other. As the night drifts on, you find yourselves wrapped in each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses and whispered promises, the world around you falling away until it’s just you and him, together in the safe haven you’ve created.

---

It isn’t until months later, on a quiet afternoon in your small apartment, that you realize how much he’s changed you. You’re both in the kitchen, making dinner, when he wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. In that moment, feeling the solid warmth of him, something inside you finally softens, and you feel that long-buried fear of love start to melt away.

Turning around to face him, you look into his eyes, your heart pounding but steady. “You’re… you’re home,” you say softly, finally daring to voice the truth you’ve been feeling for so long.

Bucky smiles, and it’s the warmest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen. “And so are you,” he murmurs, brushing a gentle kiss across your forehead. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

As you lean into him, you feel a deep sense of peace—a peace that tells you love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real, that sometimes, it’s okay to let yourself be someone else’s. And for the first time, you let yourself believe that you can be loved without fear.

In his arms, you know that no matter where life takes you, he’ll always be there, steady as ever, reminding you every day that you’re his, and he’s yours.

The soft simmering of the pot on the stove fades into the background as you hold each other in the kitchen, wrapped in a quiet warmth that feels like it’s seeped into every corner of your life together. The room is filled with the comforting scent of herbs and spices, but all you can focus on is him—his arms around you, his steady breathing, the familiar warmth of his presence.

You look up at him, and there’s a softness in his eyes, a light you’ve come to recognize as the kind of love that expects nothing but offers everything.

“I don’t know if I tell you this enough,” he murmurs, running his fingers gently along your back. “But you… you make me feel whole. Like I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

His words settle over you like a balm, soothing any lingering fear you still carry. There’s a deep sincerity in his gaze, a warmth that has become your comfort, your safety. You feel your heart swell, a surge of gratitude that he’s here, that he chose you even with all the jagged edges you thought would push people away.

“Bucky,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “I never thought I’d find this. Find… you.”

He smiles, his hand coming up to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “I know it wasn’t easy for you to trust me. But you’re everything I ever wanted… everything I never thought I deserved.”

You laugh softly, the sound breaking through the quiet as you realize how much he’s come to mean to you, how he’s become the constant in your life, the calm in your storms. “You deserve all of it, love....Every bit of happiness there is.”

His eyes soften, and he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, lingering as if he’s savoring the moment, as if he’s savoring you. “Then stay with me,” he whispers, his voice low and full of emotion. “For as long as we have… let’s make this our forever.”

Your heart races as his words sink in, and you feel a warmth bloom within you, a peace that you’ve only known with him. The future, once clouded by fear and doubt, now feels open, full of possibility, and you realize that with him, you’re no longer afraid of what lies ahead.

You take his hands in yours, feeling the roughness of his palms, the strength that’s always there, supporting you. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say, looking up into his eyes. “I’m yours, Bucky. Completely.”

He smiles, a look of relief mixed with pure joy lighting up his face, and he pulls you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as he holds you like he never intends to let go.

“I’ll remind you of that every day,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice a soft promise. “You’re mine. And I love you… more than I could ever put into words.”

In that quiet moment, held close in his arms, you feel it—this deep, steady love that you never believed could be yours. And you know, as long as you have him, you are finally, truly home.

Bucky’s arms wrap around you a little tighter, pulling you closer, and in his embrace, you feel every ounce of love and devotion he’s offered you so freely. His hands rest at the small of your back, gentle but firm, grounding you. The simmering sounds from the stove fade into the background as he holds you, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in this shared moment.

He dips his head, his lips brushing softly against yours in a kiss that’s unhurried, tender, but filled with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your jawline, a soft reverence in his touch, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

You feel the roughness of his palms as his hands settle along your waist, his fingers splaying across your back, drawing you even closer. The air between you feels charged, a steady, simmering warmth that’s both comforting and thrilling. You let your fingers trail up his shoulders, feeling the strength and warmth there, feeling safe and cherished.

“Bucky,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean into him, pressing soft kisses along his jawline, savoring the way his breathing hitches ever so slightly at your touch.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his gaze soft but intense, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. “You’re everything,” he whispers, his forehead resting gently against yours as he closes his eyes, breathing you in. “Everything I never knew I could have.”

---

A few months later, everything feels like it’s slipping out of your hands. Work is stressful, you’ve hardly had a moment to yourself let alone with Bucky, and the anxieties that you thought you’d buried start creeping back in, tainting every small moment of happiness with doubt. Bucky notices, of course. He’s always paying attention, always picking up on the little things.

After a long, exhausting day, you come home and find him waiting for you in your small, cluttered living room. He’s made dinner, and the smell of pasta fills the apartment, a small act of love that you know he did just to make you feel better.

But instead of feeling grateful, all you feel is overwhelmed.

As you set your bag down, you glance at him, trying to ignore the pressure building in your chest. “You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “I don’t need you to take care of me all the time, i can do it myself!"

He blinks, taken aback by the edge in your tone. “I know you can baby, ” he says carefully. “I just wanted to make things a little easier tonight"

“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t need you to!” you snap, unable to hold back the frustration boiling over inside. “I’m fine on my own....I’ve always been fine on my own!"

Bucky’s face falls, and he sets down the plate he was holding, his gaze steady but pained. “Where’s this coming from?” he asks quietly.

You don’t know how to answer, not when everything feels so confusing and raw. “Maybe… maybe we were a mistake,” you murmur, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Maybe we got too close too fast.”

His jaw clenches, hurt flashing across his face. “Do you really mean that?” His voice is low, almost breaking. “Or are you just scared?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut, because he’s right. You are scared—scared of getting hurt, scared of being vulnerable, and scared of what it means to love someone so deeply. And yet, instead of admitting it, you double down, pushing him further away.

“What if I am scared, Bucky?” you snap, crossing your arms. “Maybe I don’t want to put myself through this. People always leave, and were in so deep! I, I’m just—” You stop, your voice catching as the memories of your parents’ fights come rushing back, the anger, the silence, the way love had turned to something dark and painful.

Bucky steps forward, his expression softened but resolute. “I’m not your Father, we're not your parents” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not going to walk away just because things get hard.”

You turn away, trying to hide the tears that have started to well up. “How can you say that? You don’t know… what it was like.”

He takes a breath, his hand reaching out to yours, fingers warm and steady around yours. “Then tell me,” he says, his voice steady but full of emotion. “Help me understand, so I can be here for you the way you need.”

The walls you’ve built around your heart feel like they’re crumbling, and you struggle to keep them in place, to hold onto the safety they give you. But Bucky’s still there, holding your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

With a shaky breath, you finally let go, everything you've been keeping inside for the last couple weeks pours out of you, your eyes like waterfalls. Bucky has his arms wrapped around faster than you could wipe your tears away. His grip firm, as he rubs circles on your back. Holding you close, and you feel the weight of his presence, grounding you, filling the empty spaces with a warmth you were about to let yourself lose.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs softly, his fingers brushing soothingly along your back. “No matter how scared you get, I’m here. You’re not alone, you’re worth it, i promise angel”

You pull back, looking up at him, feeling the truth of his words sink into you. The fear is still there, lingering around the edges, but somehow it feels smaller now, less overwhelming.

As you hold his gaze, you realize that this—this moment, where you’re both standing on the edge of your fears and still choosing each other—is what love is meant to be. It’s not about perfection or never fighting. It’s about standing together, even when things get messy, even when it feels like everything is falling apart.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean it, ant of it Bucky I’m just… scared of losing you.”

He smiles, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Then hold onto me,” he says softly “Because I’m not letting you go"

---

Bucky has been working long hours lately, pulling extra shifts and coming home exhausted. You’ve noticed how he’s barely had a moment to breathe, how he comes home later every night, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes as he falls onto the couch. You’ve asked him if everything’s okay, and every time, he just smiles, brushes a kiss across your forehead, and says he’s fine, just a little busy.

What you don’t know is that Bucky’s been saving up for something big, something he’s been dreaming about since the day he realized he couldn’t imagine a life without you. He’s been setting aside every extra dollar to buy you a ring, one that feels worthy of you. But between work and stress, his nerves are stretched thin, and even though he tries to be patient, exhaustion is starting to get the better of him.

You come home from work and find him in the kitchen, staring blankly at a half-prepared dinner, his face worn and tired. You reach out to touch his arm, concerned. “Bucky, you don’t have to do everything, you know. I could’ve picked something up.”

He doesn’t look at you, just sighs, his voice tense. “I’m fine doll, I can handle it.”

You press a little further, sensing something beneath his words. “Are you sure? You’ve been so… distant lately. I just feel like we barely talk anymore.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffen, and he glances over at you, a flicker of frustration in his gaze. “I don’t get why you’re always questioning me,” he snaps, voice sharper than usual. “I’m here, aren’t I? It’s not like I’m going anywhere, i've told you"

You flinch at his words, feeling a familiar ache settle in your chest. “I’m not… I just don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, and you can tell he’s trying to keep his emotions in check. “I’m not shutting you out, alright? Not everything has to be a big deal.”

The words feel dismissive, and something inside you snaps, the old fears rising up. “I just… I need to know what’s going on, Bucky, you know this, I-I....You say you’re here, but it doesn’t feel like it right now, It’s like you’re already halfway gone already..."

The moment you say it, his expression changes, a spark of hurt flashing across his face. “Are you serious?” he asks, his tone suddenly defensive. “I’ve been working myself to the bone for us, trying to make things better. I’m here every night, putting in the effort, and you’re just waiting for me to mess up. Waiting for an excuse to push me away! "

Your breath catches, his words cutting deeper than you expected. “That’s not fair,” you say, voice trembling. “You know why I have a hard time trusting people, why I get scared. You’re the one who made me feel safe again. And now it’s like… it’s like you’re proving me right.”

He looks away, jaw clenched, but the frustration and exhaustion finally get the better of him. “Maybe I don’t know how to prove it to you, then,” he mutters, anger shading his words. “I don’t know what more you need from me!"

The words hit you like a punch to the chest, and suddenly the air feels too thick, the walls of your house are suddenly too close. Without thinking, you grab your coat, needing to escape the pain before it breaks you completely.

“Where are you going?” he calls after you, the anger giving way to worry as he realizes you’re actually leaving. “It’s 2:30AM! Y-you cant just walk out!

You pause at the door, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look back at him, the hurt and fear finally spilling over“I’m leaving before you leave me,” you choke out, your voice barely a whisper. “I told you would! Everyone always does.”

With that, you slip out the door, stepping into the quiet, empty street. You start walking, the chill of the night biting into your skin as you try to hold back the tears. The memory of his words lingers, replaying in your mind, amplifying every insecurity you’ve ever felt.

But then you hear footsteps behind you, and before you can turn, Bucky’s voice reaches you, a soft, desperate sound. “Wait, Baby please, just… stop for a second"

You hesitate, swallowing down the sob that’s caught in your throat as he steps closer, his face a mix of regret and something you can’t name. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, his own tears spilling over “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You take a shaky breath, your voice full of the hurt you can’t hide. “You’re right, though. I don’t know how to believe you’ll stay. I can’t get rid of this feeling that you’ll change your mind.”

He closes the gap between you, his gaze softening as he reaches out, brushing a tear from your cheek. “Hey,” he whispers, his voice gentle, grounding. “I’m not going anywhere. You know why I’ve been working so much?”

You shake your head, your mind still reeling.

He lets out a deep breath, pulling something from his pocket, a small, worn ring box. “This...This is why I’ve been putting in those hours. Because I want to be with you, forever....For good.”

You stare at the box in his hand, the realization washing over you like a wave. Bucky steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve been saving up to buy you a ring. Because all I want is a life with you. No running, no more fears. Just us...till death do us part and all..."

The words sink in, and your heart feels like it’s breaking open and mending at the same time. “Bucky, I… I didn’t know.”

“I know, you weren't suppose to sweet girl” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close. “I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just… scared, too. Scared that maybe you’d never really believe I’d stay or be too scared to stay yourself.."

You cling to him, feeling the warmth of his embrace seep into you, grounding you. For the first time, you let yourself feel the truth in his words, the steady, unyielding love he’s shown you all along.

As he holds you in the quiet of the night, you finally feel something shift deep inside, a sense of peace replacing the old fears. And as you look up into his blue eyes, you know, without a doubt, that this is what home looks like.

Bucky holds you close, his arms wrapped around you as you both stand on the empty street, the quiet stillness of the night surrounding you. You can feel the steady beat of his heart as he holds you, each thump anchoring you back into the moment, reminding you of everything he’s done to show you he’s here to stay.

After a few moments, he pulls back just enough to look at you, his gaze soft and full of a warmth that nearly takes your breath away. He glances down at the small ring box in his hand, then back up at you, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“I was planning this whole big thing, you know,” he says, a soft laugh escaping him as he looks at you, his eyes bright with a tenderness that makes your heart ache in the best way. “A perfect night, the right words… I wanted it to be special. Because you deserve that, you deserve everything.”

Your breath catches, your eyes filling with tears again, but this time they’re tears of joy, of a hope that’s finally free of the shadows that used to hold you back.

“But somehow,” he continues, his thumb brushing softly across your cheek, “this feels right. Standing here with you, just… us, no walls, no fears.”

Slowly, Bucky lowers himself down onto one knee, opening the small ring box to reveal a simple but beautiful ring that catches the glow of the streetlight. His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, his voice thick with emotion.

“I know we’ve both been through a lot, and I know we’ve still got our fears,” he says, his voice barely a whisper, each word carrying the weight of everything he feels. “But there’s no one else I’d rather face them with. You’re it for me. You’re my home, my everything.”

He takes a steadying breath, his gaze unwavering as he holds the ring up to you. “Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m never going to leave?”

You feel the tears spill over, but this time you don’t bother wiping them away. Nodding, you barely manage to whisper, the easiest words you ever said before “Yes...Yes, Bucky, I’ll marry you"

A bright smile breaks across his face as he slips the ring onto your finger, then rises to his feet, pulling you back into his arms. He kisses you softly, a lingering kiss filled with every unspoken promise between you "I love you Bucky Barnes"

As he pulls back, his eyes meet yours, a smile playing on his lips. "And I love you, forever" he whispers, his voice filled with warmth and certainty. “You’re the best thing that's ever been mine,”

[akamitrani]

— Backstage Pass —

David Howard Thornton x Fem!Reader (Pt.1?)

Warnings: Mild suggestive, flirting (and the massive amount of tension that comes with it), release of the tension, slow burn.

Summary: You manage to get backstage access to a Terrifier panel where David is present, you end up striking a conversation with him and one thing leads to another.

[A/N: Hi guys, this is my first ever published fanfic – Be kind ☠️ – Sorry if anything lol. Btw, I hope y'all like to read fr cuz this fanfic surely is for readers]

[ · · · ]

The low hum of the convention floor buzzed around you, but for the moment, it felt as though the world had quieted down. You stood backstage, just outside the makeshift white room where David was preparing for a panel at the horror convention. Your excitement of meeting the actor behind Art the Clown was palpable, it was the man himself – the warm, approachable, and genuine David

You had spent the better part of the day anxiously navigating your way through autograph lines, fan meet-and-greets and photo ops, but now, standing backstage, you had a rare chance to speak with him outside the chaos. You never expected an encounter like this but here you were, a quiet moment with the very man who had terrified and fascinated you all at once

David’s head peeked from behind the curtains, his bright blue eyes meeting yours – “Hey! You’re the one who was talking about makeup techniques earlier, right?” – his voice had a casual charm, free of any of the sinister vibes Art was known for

You nodded, a bit stunned that he’d even remembered you from earlier in the day – “I'm Y/N by the way... And yeah, I’m just starting to get into prosthetics, but I love how the horror community brings so many elements together”

He smiled, a grin that reached his eyes and softened the sharpness of his features – “Y/N. And oh I totally get that. There’s something about horror that feels like a puzzle, you know? Acting, makeup, lighting… everything needs to come together for the whole thing to work”

It felt like a small moment of mutual understanding, and you couldn’t help but feel drawn to his enthusiasm. Here was David, the man behind the terrifying clown, speaking with such openness.

“So...” – David said after a beat, his tone playful – “what’s your favorite kind of horror?”

“It’s a toss-up but I’d say psychological horror, something that messes with your mind, makes you question what’s real” – You said

He nodded thoughtfully, his expression turning serious for a moment – “Yeah, that kind of horror is powerful. But I have to admit, sometimes I miss just making people jump... It’s a bit of a guilty pleasure for me”

You laughed loud, the sound echoing through the quiet backstage space – “I bet! It’s a great feeling though, knowing you can make people react like that”

David’s eyes lit up, a mischievous glint appearing – “Well... I think we’ve got some time for a little more talking, but it’s not going to be quieter once the panel starts, I'll eventually get busy... You’re sticking around, right?”

You hesitated, the pull of curiosity and excitement making you eager to continue the conversation – “Of course! After the panel, would you like to talk more? What about... Grabbing a drink?”

David raised an eyebrow, the playful smile tugging at his lips again – “Perfect, was just thinking the same thing. And I could definitely use a quiet moment away from the crowd... There's a nice café nearby, just behind the building”

You felt a jolt of anticipation. This was no longer just a fan encounter. The conversation had shifted from polite exchanges to something more personal, a subtle invitation hanging in the air

“Perfect!” – You replied, feeling your nerves melt away – “See you there then”

“I'll be there as soon as the panel is finished" – He replied

[ · · · ]

sorry but I don't have the patience

to write a 'in between' lol

You entered the café David mentioned about earlier, the ambiance was calm as expected. Dave was already there tucked in a corner booth, his eyes eventually meet yours and he sweetly waves at you. Walking in his direction you sat down, wasting no time to start chatting. David had his hands wrapped around his coffee mug, leaning slightly forward, completely engrossed in the story you were telling him

“And that’s when I realized..." – you laughed, glancing down in embarrassment – “I’d been talking to the director with fake blood still smeared all across my cheek!”

David chuckled – “You’d fit right in on a horror set with a story like that” – he said, tilting his head with that trademark playful smile – “Sounds like you were born for the genre”

You felt a warmth rise in your cheeks, not just from the flattery but from the way he looked at you — as if you two were the only people in the room. For someone who could be so chillingly silent in his role as Art, David had an openness and kindness that made you feel immediately at ease

Both of you shared another laugh, you noticed his fingers drumming gently against the ceramic cup, a little habit he seemed unaware of. The small, endearing detail felt so far removed from the menacing persona he played on screen. In that moment, you wondered how many people really got to see him this way, relaxed and unguarded

“So” – David said, breaking the silence – “I have to ask... why horror? Why would you willingly choose a field that involves blood, guts, and a thousand ways to terrify an audience?”

You took a sip of your coffee, considering an answer – “I think it’s the honesty of it... Horror doesn’t hide from what people fear. It embraces it. And creating that… It’s almost like a dance between knowing what scares people and making them feel safe enough to face it. It’s–”

“Powerful” David finished for you, a look of understanding in his eyes – “Yeah. I think I know what you mean” – he paused – “That’s exactly what draws me to it. There’s something about the way people’s walls come down when they’re scared. You can see who they really are”

Your eyes met with his, a silence settled between you and him, charged with something unspoken. You felt a flutter of nervous excitement, this was David Howard Thornton, a master of horror, sharing his personal thoughts with you as if you were an old friend

“Hey-” – David’s voice softened, breaking the tension – “I just realized how late it’s getting. But honestly…” – He glanced down, almost shyly, before looking back up with a small grin – “I don't want this conversation to end just yet”

You hadn't realized how much time had passed, you feel your heart skip – “Me neither...”

He hesitated, then gave a casual shrug – “I have a bottle of wine back at my hotel...” – he said with a hint of playful mischief – “If you’re up for it, we could keep talking there... No pressure though — I promise I’m far less terrifying off the set”

You both laughed, but you felt a thrill run through your body. You weren’t entirely sure what to expect, but the invitation in his eyes, the warmth in his smile, left little room for doubt

“Well...” – you said, mirroring his grin – “as long as you leave the clown mask behind”

David let out a low, warm chuckle and reached out, his hand brushing against yours just briefly – “Deal.”

[ · · · ]

at the hotel

The elevator doors slid open, then shut with a soft thud – the hum of the machine filled the otherwise quiet space between you both. David stood closer, his presence palpable as the two of you ascended to the upper floors. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, the subtle hint of his musky cologne, the faint rustle of his clothes as he shifted slightly

The tension from the café was still there – unspoken, but thick. You could both feel it in the air, like an electric charge that had been building ever since the moment you'd first exchanged words. But now, in this small quiet space, it was almost impossible to ignore

David caught your eye, a soft smirk playing at the corner of his mouth – “I’m glad you agreed to come. It’s nice to get away from the madness for a bit you know”

You nodded but you could feel your heart rate picking up, the proximity between you and him making your thoughts scatter – “Yeah, it’s… really nice” – your voice sounded quieter than usual, and you couldn’t help but notice how close he is standing, how his shoulder brushed against yours every so often

The elevator dinged, signaling the arrival at David’s floor, you both stepped out. David led the way to his room, his long strides confident, though there was a subtle energy about him – something different than the actor you’d seen on stage. The man before them now seemed grounded, a little more vulnerable, but still just as captivating

As you two reached the door, David turned to you with a quiet smile – “Make yourself at home” – he said, pushing the door open and holding it for you to enter. The room was cozy, warmly lit

You stepped in, the scent of fresh linen and something faintly musky lingering in the air, his cologne you thought. You took a moment to glance around but David was already moving toward the small bar area by the window, pouring two glasses of wine

“Care for something?” – he asked, glancing over his shoulder with a playful glint in his eyes

“Sure, why not?” – You replied, voice a little breathless. It was hard to focus on anything other than the man before you, the way he moved, how effortlessly he carried himself. It was a strange mix of charm and allure, the kind of presence that seemed to draw people in without effort

David handed you the glass, his fingers brushing for just a second longer than necessary. His touch lingered, and you both looked up at the same time, locking eyes. There was something in his gaze – soft yet intense.

“Cheers” – he murmured lifting his own glass, clinking your drinks together

The conversation flowed easily at first, light and casual, but the air felt heavier now. David shifted slightly, moving a little closer as he leaned against the back of a chair, eyes never leaving yours. It wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite.

You set your drink down on the table, feeling a quiet tension building – “You know... I never thought I’d end up in a hotel room with someone like you”

David raised an eyebrow – “Someone like me?”

You laughed softly, a little nervous – “Yeah, someone so… different from Art”

David’s smile deepened, and he moved a fraction closer – “I think I’m a little more like Art than you realize” – he teased, there was a softness in his voice and a hint of something else, something that wasn’t just playful

“I don’t know…” – your voice faltering for a moment – “M-maybe you’re right”

David didn’t say anything for a moment, but his gaze darkened just slightly, his focus never wavering. He stepped a little closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the best way

“You know Y/N” he said quietly, almost a whisper – “I’m glad you stayed”

[···]

The silence between you both thickened, hanging in the air. David's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly as though he was considering something. Drawn to the warmth of his presence, you got closer. David didn't move away. Instead, he stood perfectly still, giving you space to decide what to do next. A quiet hunger in the way he looked at you.

“I dont want to rush this” – David said softly, voice low and deliberate – “But, I can't pretend I'm not completely drawn to you”

You reached up, fingers brushing against his arm, the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. David inhaled sharply, his body tensing just a bit at the contact.

“Are you sure?” – he whispered, his hand reached out, fingers barely grazing the edge of your wrist. You nodded, voice barely above a breath – “Yeah, I'm sure.”

David's hand gently cupped the side of your face, thumb grazing the curve of your jaw – savoring every second. David's face was so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

His lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative at first. His hands slid down, pulling you closer. He grabs your waist hard and you accidentally let out a small moan... That's when he finally kisses you, letting out a low whimper himself. The kiss gets deeper, sucking and biting. You respond instinctively, fingers threading through his gray hair, drawing him in as the kiss became more urgent, more desperate.

You break the kiss for a moment to catch your breath, foreheads resting against each other and trying to collect yourselves. This had been building all night, ready to break.

“You're incredible” – David murmured, his voice thick with desire

You met his gaze – “I can say the same about you”

“I've wanted this all night” – He confessed

David's hands slid down your back, guiding you firmly towards him, towards his thighs. Now straddling him, your fingers tightened in his hair as his hands moved, exploring the curves of your waist, savoring every detail about it. His hands slid down your dress, up your thighs and finally resting on the hem of your panties... His eyes pledged for yours, for assurance – You nodded

“You're not going to regret this” he whispered

[levandright]

BEST FOR YOU ✦ P.SH

pairings : ex! sunghoon x fem reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : hurt with comfort, sunghoon gets closure ୨ৎ word count : 1.5k

synopsis. sunghoon reflects on his past relationship with you, feeling the weight of your breakup and the distance that has grown between you. as he sees you move on, he is reminded of your shared memories and the love you once had. coming to terms with the changes in your lives, sunghoon finds peace, wishing you well as he lets go of the past and the connection you once shared. lev notes : this is inspired by the song best for you by slchld <3 i actually cried when i first finished writing the draft which was shorter (around 700 words) and this is my first ever angst!! hopefully it doesn't dissapoint >.> i genuinely had such a hard time writing some parts but i pulled through with the power of friendship!!

sunghoon sat in his room, the dim light of his desk lamp casting shadows against the walls. the air conditioning hummed softly, the only sound filling the silence of the quiet evening. he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as his gaze drifted to the window. the stillness in the air matched the quiet that had settled within him—a feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how many times he tried to distract himself.

there was something about the loneliness tonight that felt different. it wasn’t just the silence that made it seem so heavy, but the creeping ache in his chest that had been growing for months, ever since your breakup. sometimes, in the middle of a busy day, he would forget that the person who used to be at the center of his world was no longer there. but in moments like this, when it was just him and solitude, the reality of it all hit harder than he cared to admit.

the soft glow of his phone screen illuminated his face as he unlocked it, absentmindedly scrolling through his instagram feed. it wasn’t like he was looking for anything specific—just trying to fill the emptiness in the room with something, anything. his thumb paused when he saw your post. you were smiling brightly, laughing with your friends at some outdoor café. the image felt almost surreal to him.

he had never been the type to go through his ex’s social media, not anymore. but today, something had drawn him in. he couldn’t help but wonder how you were doing, how you were living your life without him. it had been a while since you breakup, and he had been trying his best to move on, to accept that things were over between you two. but seeing you this happy, living the life you’d always dreamed of—it hurt.

your smile was the same as it had always been, bright and effortless. but now it wasn’t for him. it wasn’t because of him. that realization hit harder than he expected. his heart clenched, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

he continued scrolling through your feed, stopping at another post—a picture of you and him, taken months ago at the park. he remembered that day so clearly, the way the sunlight had filtered through the trees and made everything glow. it had been a perfect day, one that had felt like it would last forever. how naive he had been, thinking that nothing could tear you apart.

but everything had changed.

back then, you and sunghoon had been inseparable. high school sweethearts. you had shared everything with each other: dreams, laughter, and even the inevitable frustrations of growing up. you were each other’s safe haven. but life had a funny way of pushing people in different directions, of breaking apart the very things that once seemed unbreakable.

he remembered the late nights he’d stayed up studying, only to have you call him crying, talking about how much the distance between you two was weighing on your heart. and then there were the times he was too exhausted from his part-time job to really listen, too caught up in his own world to hear the desperation in your voice. he was juggling university, work, and trying to hold onto a relationship that was slowly slipping through his fingers.

sunghoon had never been good at balancing everything. he had never been great at handling the outbursts or the tantrums that sometimes came from the overwhelming pressure of your long-distance relationship. back then he had only been able to offer quick reassurances, tired words that meant little in the face of your pain. and when the break-up came, it felt like a punch to the gut.

the reason you drifted apart was simple, yet so complicated at the same time. you both had grown, and in that process, you had grown away from each other. the person he was back then, caught between uni and a part-time job, he had failed to truly see the depth of what you needed. and now looking back, he wished he could have done better.

"i should have tried harder," he whispered to himself. "i should have been there more."

but that didn’t change anything now. he couldn’t go back in time and fix his mistakes. all he had now were memories, and the reality that those memories would never become anything more.

the pain of that realization had hit hardest after the breakup, it felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. for so long, he had imagined his future with you. suddenly, he was adrift, lost in a world that no longer made sense. he remembers nights lying awake, replaying the last few months of your relationship, questioning what he could have done differently, feeling anger, confusion, and heartache twist together inside him.

eventually, he learned to let go of the resentment, to see things with a little more clarity. you both had grown, and sometimes people simply grow in different directions. even now, he knows that his feelings for you haven’t faded, that part of him will always love you in some quiet, unspoken way. but he’s come to accept that you’re better off without him, that he needs to let you go fully.

and then, one night, it happens. he’s scrolling again, mindlessly, when he sees it. a new photo—one that’s different from the rest. you’re standing next to someone, a guy with an easy smile and a warm, gentle presence. jay.

jay, sunghoon had heard about him from mutual friends. he was kind, thoughtful, everything sunghoon wished he could have been for you back then. and now, it was clear: you had found someone new. someone who made you happy. someone who could give you everything he couldn’t.

sunghoon sat back in his chair, feeling a lump rise in his throat. it felt like the final confirmation that you had truly moved on, that his place in your life was nothing more than a shadow now. he’d always imagined a future with you. he’d imagined growing old together, supporting each other through everything life threw at you. but now, all he had were his memories—and even those felt like they were fading, slowly but surely.

he looked at the photo again, your smile still as bright as ever, but this time, it wasn’t for him. it was for jay. and a strange peace settled over him. you had found love again. you were with someone who made you feel the way you deserved to feel.

sunghoon took a deep breath and opened your chat. he had been avoiding it for so long, unsure of what to say, but now he knew. he wanted to reach out one last time. he didn’t expect anything in return, but he needed to say what was in his heart. after all, he had never been good at letting go, but it was time.

his fingers hovered over the keyboard as he searched for the right words. they trembled slightly as he types:

“hey y/n… i saw your post. i just wanted to say, i’m really happy for you. you deserve all the happiness in the world, and i know jay will treat you the way you’ve always deserved to be treated. thank you for everything, for all the memories. i’ll always wish you the best.”

he paused, staring at the message for a moment before pressing “send.” a weight lifted off his shoulders as soon as he did, his heart heavy yet at peace. by saying goodbye in that simple message, he was letting go, wishing you well—even though he knew he’d never see your smile in person again.

sunghoon sat back in his chair, his eyes drifting back to the photo of you and jay, the one that had started all of this. for the first time in months, he wasn’t angry or sad. he wasn’t resentful. instead, he felt an odd sense of closure, a peaceful acceptance that the two of you were no longer meant to be.

his mind wandered back to the first time he saw you, in the school library. you had been sitting at a table, a pile of books in front of you, your head slightly down as you concentrated. when your eyes met his, you smiled shyly, and something in him had shifted. it was as if the world had slowed down just for that moment. that smile had been the first spark, the first flicker of something that would grow into an overwhelming love. that first smile had stayed with him, a memory he carried through every moment you shared.

“i fell for you right then,” sunghoon whispered to the empty room. “and i think, a part of me will always love you.”

he closed his eyes and leaned back, letting the memory of that smile wash over him. it was bittersweet, but in that moment, he finally understood. you had been his first love, and though that chapter had closed, it would always be a part of him. and that was enough.

he whispered a final goodbye to himself, letting the memory fade into the stillness of the night. with it, he carried a silent promise to move forward, even if it meant holding a small piece of you with him forever.

as he drifted off to sleep that night, he silently wished you well, hoping that wherever life took you, you would find everything you were looking for—and more.

perm taglist. @honeychocos @honeybelleee @manaah02 (open!)

©levandright

[beef-brisket]

Emily cringed: Yeah, fair enough... well, let me know if you need a hand. I'll get started on some dinner.

Adam smiled at his sister. Once she left, he could finally breathe. He enjoyed the silence. And the air smelled normal. Not musty like old wood.

Thankfully, Adam didn't actually feel sore. He thought giving birth leaves you in pain for weeks after. But he felt fine. Like it never happened.

He ran his hands over his body. Nothing had really changed. He thankfully didn't have tits. Well, bigger tits- pecks. His hips were slightly wider, but nothing his usual baggy shirts wont fix.

The only thing that sucks is his dick being gone, which hurts Adam's soul as much as he thought it would. He's devastated. Maybe he can beat that short creep up, make him bring his dick back. Then Adam will kick him in the dick for BEING a dick.

Yeah. That's a good plan. Lots of dicks involved. Just how Adam likes it.

But Adam will focus on payback after doing a few paragraphs of his essay.

Nearly an hour later, Emily walks in with some food, he almost didn't realize because of how in the zone he was.

Emily: ...Addy?

Adam: mm?

Emily: Food.

Adam perked up and looked over at his sister. He eyed what seemed to be pasta.

Adam: Fuck yeah. Thanks sis.

She hands it to him, and he starts eating while reading over what he typed.

Emily: You've done a lot... how is it coming?

Adam: Just have two more bullshit paragraphs- then the conclusion.

Emily: Wow. I didn't think you'd be done so quick.

Adam: I did do some before we left, the car ride here AND the first night here. I know I look like a loser stoner, but I'm not. Sometimes~.

Emily sighs: Mom wants you off the weed, Adam.

Adam: Don't rat me out, man... hey, uh. Can you not tell her what happened? She already worries about me too much, and this will make her chain me up in the basement and never see light again.

Emily: I mean- you are always getting into trouble.

Adam: No, I'm not!

Emily: ...you got kidnapped by a dead witch that YOU woke up.

Adam: Okay, fair. But I didn't know that bullshit would work! It's a fucking candle! Any cunt could have lit it.

Emily: And unfortunately that cunt was my brother. We told you not to.

Adam: ...I'm a cunt. What can I say?

Emily: Just. Eat your pasta and finish your report then shower. You look like you've just been kidnapped by witch and put through a whole day of trauma.

Adam: Ha! Bitch, you don't know the half of it. And I'm not traumatized. I'm fine! I'm ready to go back and kick his little ass!

Emily: Don't you fucking dare. We talked about this. Tomorrow, we're going home.

Adam: Yeah, yeah, I was joking. I'll spend the next five years beefing up, THEN I'll go back and kick his ass!

Emily: ...make that ten years.

Adam: Rude!

Emily laughed and left Adam to it.

Oh, he was going back all right. Maybe not tomorrow or next week. But he will be back, and he'll fuck that dude up. Assuming he hasn't been burned alive again. Stupid bastard.

Adam looks down. He can't help but wonder about the baby. Charlotte. She seemed to be crying when she was born, Adam wasn't really focused on her at the time. But he hopes she's okay. This crazy shit wasn't her fault.

Hopefully, she's a better person than him.

Charlie: Say it.

Lucifer: eh...

Charlie: Dad. Say it.

Lucifer: I-Immm. I'm s... sssss...

Charlie: Say. It.

Lucifer: ssssssooo... sssssooorrrr... charlie! This is hard!

Charlie: DAD!

Lucifer: Agh! Fine! I'm sorry for kidnapping you-eventhoughyoulitthecandle- forcing you to be pregnant with my hundreds of years old daughter, forcing that pregnancy to happen in a day, forcing you to stay in one birthing position, not cleaning you up afterwards, taking your bodily autonomy away AND forcing you to marry me. I'm sorry... A... Aa... Aaron.

Charlie: Adam!

Lucifer: Adam! I'm sorry, Adam!

Charlie: Very good.

Lucifer: Fantastic! Can you tell me where he is, now?

Charlie: No... you've lessened his pull to us, right?

Lucifer: Yes, I have.

Charlie: Then he'll come when he's ready. No more forcing. He'll come to us eventually. But when is not your concern. Until we see him, you need to learn some basic human skills. I have a lot to catch up on to! But this will be a great time to learn! So, again! From the top!

Lucifer: AGGGHHHHHI wish I was dead!

Charlie: Well, you're not. AGAIN!

Lucifer: I'm sorry, Anthony.

Charlie: Adam!

Lucifer: Adam!

I know that Halloween is over but I still gotta talk about this Hocus Pocus au I thought up

(Human) Adam just moved to Salem, the witch capital of the U.S and the whole town is telling ghost stories of Lucifer Morningstar, the famous male witch who swore he’d be back to take revenge on the townspeople before he was hung by the neck until dead.

Adam thinks this is a crock of shit, so he and his new friend Lute and his sister Emily sneak into Lucifer’s house (which has since been turned into a small museum) legend tells that Lucifer can only return if a virgin lights the black flame candle and Adam is being less than honest about his sexual exploits to his new friend.

As a joke to freak them both out he lights the candle. Unfortunately for him, it works and the witch appears in a violent gust of wind

That’s all I got but I just like the idea of Adam trying to escape from witch Lucifer

MY DUDE I LOVE THIS!!! @fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

And I'm going to have him and Lute be like freshmen in college so Adams like 19-20 and Emily is like say a senior in high school her and Adam are a year apart.

And yes they had Emily out trick or treating because she's short en to get away with it and said "teenagers are allowed candy too".

-

Lute: Adam come on this isn't funny, the curse is real.

Adam: It's not real because witches and magic aren't real. The trails were just so they could hang a bunch of people who didn't agree with their beliefs.

They looked around the museum house and at night it's creepy especially being in the woods. Emily turned on a light so they could see.

Emily: Can we go?

Adam: No look at all this cool stuff! And that book? Says it's bound in real human flesh...... Gross.

Lute watched as Adam went over to the black candle.

Lute: Don't light that! If a virgin lights the candle it's said that Lucifer Morningstar will come back from the dead.

Adam burst out laughing: Good thing I'm not a virgin then.

Emily raised a brow: You only dated Eve for like a week.

Adam: You can have sex in a week!

The truth was they only made out a little bit and then her folks didn't want her having a boyfriend until after she graduated from high school.

So yes, Adam is a virgin. But his fucking sister doesn't need to know that!

He pulled out his lighter and smirked, curses and magic what a load of shit.

Lute: Adam no!

Adam lit the candle: See, nothing to-.....

The house started to violently shake, the floorboards glowed underneath and a laughter could be heard.

Lute: The fuck!?

Emily glared at Adam: A virgin lit the candle.

Adam: W-what!? It's okay! I'll just blow it out!

He blew out the candle but the flame came back.

Lute and Emily's eyes went wide when they saw a man that matches Lucifer's picture come out from the back room.

Lucifer: And who do I owe the pleasure to? Hmm? Oh, you.~

Adam turned around and jumped, what the fuck!?

Lute: We should go.

Adam: Good idea.

They all turn to run out the door, Emily and Lute make it out but the door slams in Adams face locking him in.

Adam: Fuck!

Emily bangs on the door: Adam!!

Adam tried pulling on the door but it was no use. Chills crept up his spine when a low laugh echoed in the room. He turned to see Lucifer standing there with his book now in hand.

Lucifer: Oh, you weren't leaving already were you?~

[smolzizking]

! `'what I think mha boys would be like together'` !

Just some of my headcanons of what I think some mha boys would be like in a relationship with reader :3 (might do a girl vers of this) or a part 2 of this one

contains: Izuku x reader, Katsuki x reader, Kirishima x reader, Denki x reader, fluff

Izuku :

Izuku is definitely the one to compliment/ praise you over everything, oh you styled your hair different than usual? “You look so pretty/handsome” or you finally finished that book/game/drawing you’ve been trying to complete “that’s amazing Y/N!”. Mostly uses your first name but he does have some nicknames for you; mostly being shortened versions of your first name along with “My star, lovey, babe”, is anxious to make first moves on anything but if you initiate something (holding hands, a kiss, etc.) he’ll join in when you initiate it; though when he does get the confidence to initiate something it’s mostly holding hands or snaking his arm around your waist lightly grazing your hip. Loves giving you little head kisses, cheek kisses! Makes you little paper dolls of you two for special occasions <3

Katsuki :

He’d definitely not change much when he’s dating you, maybe more softer towards you than the others but other than that Katsuki is still the same ol’ Katsuki. Gets you gifts on special occasions (he knows exactly what you like and dislike cause he’s been sneakily analysing you so he could use it to an advantage) , helps you with choosing outfits, hairstyles etc. tries to sound less harsh when giving you advice but it can be sarcastic at times, only refers to you with your first name with the slight nicknames on cards or gifts but never from his lips, ruffles your hair and plays about with your hair (pleatting it, twirling it around his finger) doesn’t wait for you to initiate anything- will initiate holding hands, kisses, cuddles first, Katsuki will boast about you, he’ll just bring you up in every conversation like “My Y/N done that too though better than you” , “Yeah Y/N knows that too, they knew way before you did extra!” Isn’t one for showing PDA but shows a lot of affection privately in his words “It’s better being just the two of us than a crowd of extras” will not admit but he loves it when he lays on your lap and you play with his hair <3

Kirishima :

Kirishima would defo’s would be glued to your side helping you with anything, holding your hand and somewhat having his hand on you (shoulders, head, waist, nothing too intimate) asks you to join him when he’s working out, sometimes will ask you to even join in, non stop compliments- compliments are literally spilling from his lips he’s just so loving of you he can’t help not to tell you how beautiful/handsome you are. Matching clothes. He would love to wear those matching shirts that have the arrows pointing to left/right saying things like ‘I’m hers/his’ even if your not into that kinda stuff he’d even do things like matching pfp on socials! Kirishima would definitely listen to music with you, even if you both share different taste in music he wouldn’t care as long as he gets to do something with you and learn more about you he’d love it <3

Denki :

I feel if anything he’d just get more funnier when he’s around you, he wants to hear your laugh whenever he does something stupid, loves to play video games with you (if you like them ofc) if not he just likes to have you around him whenever he does play games, will say silly lines like “what’s cooking good looking” and other lines, loves to play with your hair, hold your hand and trace over your bones and veins, Loves to lay on your lap whenever you guys hang out at one another’s dorms. Will ask for your help with anything especially if it’s for tests, loves to talk to you about everything, literally everything there’s times he’ll ask questions that really make you think where it takes you weeks to finally answer and he’s sadly forgotten his question.

Hope you enjoyed this <3 I might do other parts to this one but I’m not sure yet ;-;.. but anyways I’m working on a lil project that might take a bit so I’m posting this just to not seem and inactive for long periods of time ⭐️

[ahyperactivehero]

If you're still feeling DBD drabbles I'd love some post-canon Edwin and Crystal bonding (making fun of celebrities together? studying magic? comparing rich neglectful parents?)

I love a good Edwin and Crystal bonding moment! I hope that if we ever get season 2 we get to see more of them bickering and bonding. Because these two remind me of me and my sibling so strongly it almost hurts <3

(reminder that i am taking election night drabbles, although i can't promise they'll be posted tonight. i'm working on as many as i can, but it is getting late! i'll likely finish most of them tomorrow unfortunately)

Drabble 2 

Crystal and Edwin were at war. Or at least, that’s what Crystal would have labeled themselves as. According to Charles this was simply, ‘Edwin when he likes you,’ which Crystal wanted to be judgemental about, but she had her memories back and she could remember what a menace she’d been to people she liked.

“It is not hard, Crystal,” Edwin stressed, leaning heavily on to the desk in front of him. At some point in time he had abandoned his coat and jacket and rolled his sleeves up in what had to be the most laid back outfit Crystal had ever seen him in.

Yet there was nothing relaxed about Edwin. She’d never known him to be a particularly relaxed person, but there was a strange undercurrent of stress that was running through him that she was pretty sure wasn’t always there.

She sighed again for what must have been the millionth time and dropped her phone onto the couch next to her. It’s not like anyone she actually liked contacted her that way. In fact, she’d been arguing with her mom the last time someone had actually reached out to her, which had only resulted in Crystal storming out of the house and crashing in the agency’s office for a few days.

Which brought them to where they were now. Edwin tapped the book in front of him, looking for all the world like a young teaching assistant annoyed with his students. “If you would simply try, I know you cou-”

Violently, she shoved herself up off of the couch. Her feet banged against the floor, almost loud enough to rattle the windows, and for once she was glad Charles wasn’t here. She didn’t want him to see her like this.

“I have tried, Edwin! I’ve tried, okay! Have you ever tried shutting up?!” she asked before throwing herself back down onto the couch, her back turned towards the world as if that might somehow block out the ghost.

One of Crystal’s favorite and least favorite things about Edwin was that he never seemed to be dissuaded by her poor attitude. Sometimes, it even seemed to encourage him. “If you had actually tried, you would have cast the spell,” Edwin said. There was no heat to his voice, not even an ounce of actual anger to him– even though Crystal was sure he was pissed.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe if she did that she’d be able to block out Edwin’s voice and the tears at the same time. “I did try,” she said, all of the fire in her voice having faded until it sounded broken and sad.

The sound of soft footsteps filled the room. Edwin’s familiar sounding boots shuffled against the floor until he reached the couch and seemed to hover there for a moment. 

“Ah,” he said. “I see.”

And Crystal wasn’t sure what he meant until she rolled over and saw him looking at her phone. 

“You are fighting with your parents,” he said.

“So what?” she asked and snatched her phone out of his hands.

“So, magic, especially one as instinctual and ingrained as yours, is highly influenced by your emotions.” Crystal glared up at him from the corner of her eye, which forced him to hold his hands up in defense. “Not because you are a woman, or whatever else it is you might be thinking I meant. Just because magic works that way.”

They needed a new couch. She poked at a hole that had long since been worn into the cushion and pulled out a bit of stuffing before sticking it back inside. “So I’m just going to keep fucking it up?” she asked.

Edwin sat down on the floor with his back to the couch. It was almost easier to talk this way, the two of them back to back. At least then she didn’t have to see his judgmental face, and he wouldn’t have to see her cry.

Not that she was crying, of course.

“No,” Edwin said quietly. “You will not keep ‘fucking it up.’ Although it will likely take time for you to get used to doing magic with such intentions, not just relying on your instincts to guide you.”

She pulled another thing of stuffing out before shoving it back in. “What’s so wrong with instincts?” Her ancestors had done fantastically for her so far.

Edwin shuffled, but she couldn’t figure out what he had done. “Nothing. Instincts are, as Charles would say, brills. They help keep you alive and safe and have been developed for exactly that reason.”  He shifted again, and this time Crystal could feel him fully leaning back against the couch, and the goosebumps that a ghost in too close proximity caused raised along her skin. 

“But what happens if you can’t trust your instincts? What if something has changed or been manipulated and you can’t trust them?” he asked.

And Crystal knew they were talking about something heavy, something that Edwin would definitely rather not talk about with her. But here he was, talking about it with her just the same.

“You mean Hell?” she asked. She rolled over just enough to get a peek at the top of Edwin’s head. Even though she could see very little of him, she could tell that he was nervous and that made her nervous.

“Not strictly speaking of Hell. There are plenty of supernatural beings with the ability to manipulate you or your senses for their own gains.” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes barely catching hers. “But yes, I was referring to demons like David.”

Her nails had already been bitten down to the quick, but she chewed on them anyways. Buzzes shook the couch as more texts from her mom chimed in, likely just another rant about what an awful child she was and how she was making everything so difficult for them.

“They’re just saying those things because they feel like they are failing as parents,” Edwin said. He’d turned back away, his eyes staring into the closet as if it offered something particularly interesting inside. “And while that might be true, that does not mean that you are a failure.”

She snorted. “Oh yeah,” she said. “What do you know about it?”

Edwin’s sharp green eyes turned towards her before quickly cutting away. “You are hardly the only one to grow up with rich, neglectful parents,” Edwin said. “Why do you think I was sent away to school in the first place?”

Any and all fight she had had in her died. Fighting with Edwin was supposed to be fun and sharp and quick– it didn’t seem fair to fight him when he was being so honest.

A forced smile spread across her face as she reached out and bumped him with her hand. “Shoulda known you had rich parents,” she said. “Look at how you talk.”

Edwin furrowed his brow. “Everyone at school spoke the way I do.”

“Exactly.”

They sat in silence for a while before Crystal sighed and held out her hand. “Gimme the book,” she said. Which Edwin gracefully did.

The original language was too hard for Crystal to read, but Edwin had written it down in English and then wrote it out phonetically below that. It wasn’t very long, nor was it anything special, just a minor illusion spell. It wouldn’t be enough to trick anyone, or save her from a demon, but it was definitely a start. 

“Charles will be happy you’re trying again,” Edwin said as she ran her hands over the pages. 

“Oh yeah?” she asked. Was that a B or a D? Edwin’s handwriting was so nice it was almost hard to read.

“He takes his job very seriously as the brawn,” Edwin said, as if she needed to be told that. “But it makes him happy to know that you or I could defend ourselves with spells if we had to.”

Once again she snorted. “But you never do,” she said. “And I don’t see how this little spell is supposed to help.”

Edwin nodded. “Never need to. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be able to in return. Besides, this was one of the first spells I ever learned, and it's a great base to build on.”

And maybe that was a better way of looking at it. Not just defending herself or learning magic that some old, dead person other than Edwin had created when she could just use her own ancestral abilities. No, this was just another way to protect not only herself but the people she had come to love. 

Plus, wouldn’t it be nice to have a base spell that she could work on? If she could master this, maybe she could use some elements from it in her family's own magic.

Slowly, she read the words out as she tried to picture what she wanted to show Edwin. It wouldn’t be perfect, she was sure of that, but God if she wasn’t going to make this time work.

Purple petals and leaves filled the air as the image of the tree inside herself appeared in her palm. It was shaky, the picture almost glitchy and waving before reappearing slightly less detailed than before. It was as if someone had roughly sketched what was inside her without any special art talent.

But dammit, that was her tree, and she had cast it.

“It’s beautiful,” Edwin said. His eyes were wide, and he leaned in. Petals settled over him for a moment before passing through him on the way to the ground. She wondered if that was a ghost thing or a magic thing. 

“This is me,” she said. 

Edwin glanced at her before turning back to the tree. “Your ancestors’ tree,” he said, finally understanding. “I can only imagine how amazing it is in person.”

Pride she hadn’t expected to feel flooded her, filling her tree with even more light until it nearly blinded the two of them. Edwin folded her hands closed, shutting off the spell as they blinked spots from their vision.

She smiled sheepishly and he grinned back at her, one of the first true smiles she thought she had ever seen on his face. 

“We’ll work on that,” he said.

And they would.

[chelledoggo]

given the state of... things... i wanna really dissect the ending of episode 2 of TADC.

old news, yeah. but... i think the message of this scene hits harder in this time.

obvious spoiler warning below the cut!!! (also religion CW since i share a Bible verse at the end.)

so by now you probably know the ending all too well.

Pomni made a new friend in Gummigoo, hoping to help him find a better life in the circus... only to watch him be unceremoniously blasted into confetti by the well-meaning but completely tactless Caine.

and of course Pomni is understandably traumatized, going into absolute hysterics.

Caine, the oblivious godlike AI in charge of the show, believes he was just keeping things safe and in order, and shows no real empathy as he teleports himself out of the situation.

Pomni just stands there. dissociating. confused. God only knows what thoughts are going through her mind right now.

the ever-nurturing Ragatha, who's made it her mission to make sure everyone else is as happy as possible, tries to step in and raise Pomni's spirits.

of course, none of this is of any consolation to Pomni. like... how could it be? she watched her friend (presumably) die.

it's like those who believe in an afterlife watching someone die in front of them. even with that little bit of hope and comfort that you may one day see them again, that can't erase the horror you bore witness to.

Pomni stands there unresponsive. Ragatha feels helpless to comfort her.

Zooble approaches, letting Ragatha know that they've finished preparations for Kaufmo's funeral...

Ragatha turns to Pomni and extends an invitation.

this is enough to bring Pomni out of her traumatized stupor.

Ragatha explains the custom that the circus crew developed themselves. whenever a friend abstracts, they hold a "funeral" service to honor them.

now Pomni never knew Kaufmo. he abstracted just before Pomni entered the circus. they never had a chance to meet.

and yet Ragatha still invites Pomni to mourn him along with the rest of the humans.

Ragatha realizes that hopeful platitudes won't really do anything at this time. so instead she opens to her new friend a safe space to grieve.

Pomni accepts the invitation. she stands before the "casket" of a perfect stranger, unsure of what to think.

Ragatha takes her place next to the casket, allowing herself the rare opportunity to express vulnerability around the people she usually puts on a brave face for.

Pomni watches and listens as each of these people she'd only met yesterday share their eulogies for Kaufmo.

they share their experiences. their happy moments with their abstracted friend. and, most importantly, they share their grief and anguish.

Pomni obviously can't relate to any of these stories of Kaufmo. she never knew him.

but that's not the point.

the point is that she's witnessing the camaraderie of the humans in a way she never could before.

she's witnessing them in a vulnerable moment where they can break their goofy facades. and, more importantly, she's witnessing just how deeply these people love and care for each other.

brotherhood doesn't always take the form of trying to fix everyone's pain and cheer each other up. sometimes brotherhood is simply allowing those you care for to feel their feelings without judgement, and to hurt along with them.

and that's when it hits Pomni for the first time.

she's Not Alone

i think this scene hits harder after... recent events.

it's okay to feel the way you feel right now. it's okay to be anxious, scared, angry. it's okay, for right now, to feel... hopeless.

hope will come eventually. but oftentimes grief has to come first.

and that's okay. it's in the moments of communal despair that the seeds of hope are planted.

times of fear and suffering are inevitable. a perfectly happy outcome can't always be guaranteed. but comfort exists even in grief.

so take your time.

hope has no deadline. rest assured that it WILL come eventually, but don't rush or force it.

rest.

feel your feelings.

find those who can lament with you.

find those who need you to lament with them.

we should let ourselves hurt together today. and then we can hope together tomorrow.

"Rejoice with those who rejoice; weep with those who weep." - Romans 12:15 (NRSVUE)

[overnightheartbeats]

The thought of her already making an impression didn't sound right, but if his memory of when he first saw her was any indicator, then she was inclined to believe him. "I have to say, the dancing was unexpected, but it turned out to be my favorite part of the night." One conversation, one dance, and Laurel was hooked. That led her to a diner, and so on. “Hm, yeah,” she hummed in thought thinking of home. “California was home. I was tempted to be honest.” Juju probably would’ve loved it. “I just couldn’t bring myself to leave my dad. It’s just me and him now. No other family, really. Felt terrible to run off and leave him.” Being the second person to do that to him just didn’t feel right. “It does! I’m really excited for them to come over, soon I think.” Juju’s words crept into her mind, wanting to meet him and all. Not a good time to mention that though. “They said they’d try visiting soon, her and her boyfriend. Maybe next month?”

She was quickly discovering that she loved making him laugh. It was such a sweet sound, one she could hear again and again. “Oh, so you’re not above bribery? I’m intrigued.” The look on his face, with that smirk, invited trouble. And Laurel was immediately intrigued, ready to be bribed. His confirmation made her smile, because she still couldn’t tell if they were just joking around, but being kept warm by him seemed worth everything. “Sometimes both, so honestly any and all warm is appreciated. I promise not to touch you with my cold, cold hands.”

“You can hold me to anything you want, but yes promise no judgment on the awesome blankets.” Though, now she was very curious what kind of blankets these were. Did they have some amusing design on them? Or the character blankets, like Spider-Man or something? “And, I hope we still like each other at the end of this getting to know you session,” finishing her earlier sentence. Laurel’s features softened further, her smile growing as she returned the gentle squeeze. Well, well — now, it was her turn to smirk. Amusement tugging on her lips as they both agreed on this eventual next time. “do you? Time to bring out all my wooing skills then. Just to make sure I don’t miss my chance.” Talking about Jenny made her feel awkward, shaking her head at his comment. It certainly seemed like she was upset, but part of her hoped that wasn’t true. “I hope not, because you have very pretty eyes.”

That comforted her, knowing he was willing to share with her after her awkward question. "Thank you..for, more or less, feeling comfortable to answer." Laurel listened to him talk about family and the birthday celebration, exasperation was evident in his tone. She wondered if he genuinely didn't like celebrating his birthday, just something for her to know - future reference and all. “I have, but that’s nice to see - that kind of commitment to your family. I feel like most people are eager to leave their family and be independent. Hm, I’m glad they insist. You deserve to be celebrated, and cake is never too bad I hope.” She looked his way, trying to decipher if he was serious but his laughter confirmed it for her quickly enough. “Oh, tempting? Funny you say that, I was thinking the same thing. Well, the push and pull can be fun. I promise I’m not as stubborn as my sign says. Sexy, really? Consider me an expert on all things astrology then.” She definitely wasn’t one by any means, but laurel was quick to sign up. “Okay, next question: hobbies. Can I assume dancing is one of them?” Considering they had found the time to dance the two times they crossed paths.

"That you are or well I should say you already had." Laurel had made quite the impression even before he officially met her. "I am too. It worked out that I didn't stay in bed like my original plan had been. To be fair the Halloween party was fun all things considered. I did take you out on the dance floor. Wasn't all bad." His smile grew the longer he stared at her. "Is that where you're from? You did say Texas wasn't your home either. How come you didn't go to college out there? You could have left your dad and gone back?" Eli nodded his head as he smiled thinking of her friend coming to see her. "Bet that makes you happy. Do you know when you'll see her?"

Her laughter made him laugh, it was a contagious moment which they shared together in a odd little way. "Good to know bribery works on you. May end up being my secret weapon." A smirk crossed his features as he gave her a look to say he was thinking up ways to bribe her. "Fair point," he confirmed. "I'll keep you warm. Why not. Is it your feet or hands that get cold?"

"Alright I'll be holding you to that. Dont judge my awesome blankets." Though the thought of her finding the tiger blankets on his bed made him chuckle to himself. He heard her stutter briefly and looked over in fear he had said or done something wrong. But when he locked eyes with her he couldn't help but smile. Squeezing her hand a little bit tighter. "And what?" he prompted her to finish that sentence. "I promise next time you can get both lunch and dinner for me. I do like to be wooed." he shrugged giving a slight mischievous smile. "I really do think that if you weren't there she'd have clawed my eyes out. Took a lot for her to hold back I presume."

"Don't be. If I wasn't comfortable I wouldn't have answered. But yeah, we're close. I drop everything for them as you have clearly seen. As for the holiday birthday. It's alright. I've never seen a reason to celebrate it since it isn't even my actual one. Who knows when I was actually born. But family insist on it every year." He sounded exasperated but reality was he enjoyed it especially getting a cake after his complaining. "Tempting," he laughed. "But no. I wouldn't ghost you. Something tells me we'd be compatible. A little bit of a push and pull I'd guess but nothing we couldn't conquer if we worked together. I can be pretty level headed if need be. I find astrology rather sexy so I mean, if you want to talk eight world wonders to me then by all means."

[lucy90712]

We need angsty Kenan Yildiz storys!!

"Babe are you going to my match later?" Kenan asked 

"No I'm sorry I can't make it I have work until 5 then I'm going to the library to finish that group project that's due next week" I explained 

"You never come to my matches anymore" Kenan whined 

"I know and I'm sorry but after this project is done I should be able to come to a few more as long as they are after my shift" I said 

"I just miss having you there" he said clearly upset with me 

~~~~~~~~~~

"Kenan can you swing by the store on your way home we need a few things and I won't have time between classes and work to go" I said 

"Are you sure you don't have time I'm really busy today" he said 

"I mean I don't really have time" I said 

"I'll find a way to repay you if you can find a way to make it to the store" he said 

"I guess I can I'll have to take all the stuff to work though" I said 

"That works see you later love" he said running out the door 

~~~~~~~~~~

"What is it babe I've got training" Kenan said through the phone when he finally picked up

"Can you drive me to campus after you finish training my car won't start and I've already missed one class but I can't miss this afternoon as I have an exam" I said still stressed about the situation 

"Can't you call an Uber or get the bus?" He asked 

"The buses don't run from here you know that or I wouldn't have a car and an Uber is a lot of money we live quite far from campus" I said

"I'll send you the money whatever it is but I've got to go" he said hanging up 

~~~~~~~~~~

The tension between me and Kenan has been building up for weeks if not months. He's had a long and hard summer with losing in the euros with turkey and then pre season at Juventus and I've been as busy as ever. I wasn't able to go to much of the euros in fact I was only there for two days to watch one game as that's all I could afford in terms of the cost of going and losing out on money by not working. My parents are not well off at all so I have to pay every cent towards my education and my life in general so I have to work hard to survive. I'm lucky that I love with Kenan now but still I help him pay the bills as I refuse to live there for free as that wasn't how I was raised. 

I'll admit that I'm not home much but that's because when I'm not in classes I'm either studying in the library or working as that's the only way I'm going to get anywhere in life. My work ethic has been instilled in me since I was a child and I pride myself on how hard I work even if it means I'm not home much. This is Kenan's biggest problem with me as he wants me to be home when he gets home and to come to his matches but I can't and he knows why but still sometimes he gets mad at me. Kenan's schedule isn't anywhere near as packed as mine but still I find myself doing a lot for him which is my biggest grievance with him. It just feels like he's never willing to help me out even in the slightest it just seems to always inconvenience him in some way. That bugs me as I don't ask for much but sometimes I just need some support and he never seems to offer it. 

Today has been a particularly stressful day I left before the sun had fully risen and came back after it had gone down. I've had exams most of the day and then a closing shift at the store I work at so it's been a long day. My long day meant I missed Kenan's champions league game which he really wanted me to go to but I did tell him I wouldn't be able to make it. He was supposed to pick up a package before his game and take my car to get fixed but when I get back my car was still in the driveway and there was no package either instead Kenan was just laying on the sofa on his phone. 

"Where have you been?" Kenan asked 

"At school and at work like I said I would be why is my car still in the drive and where is that package?" I asked 

"I got busy so I didn't have time before the match" he said 

"Damn it Kenan can't you do anything to help me out" I yelled finally letting the tension boil over 

"Well your never here so what am I even doing helping you if never get to see you the boys keep asking me if we've broken up as you are never around" he yelled back 

"Look I'm sorry I can't be there every match but my education is important to me and to be able to continue with that I have to work you know my parents can't help me so I'm on my own I'm trying my best and if that's not good enough for you then maybe I'm not good enough for you" I said 

"Well maybe you aren't good enough" he snapped 

"You have to be kidding me Kenan you'd be a mess without me even with everything I have going on I still do so much for you while you'd barely help hold me up if I was falling" I said 

"Then maybe we aren't right for each other I don't need a girlfriend who needs me to hold her hand through everything" he said

"Fine then I'll go" I said 

I didn't know where I was going but I knew I needed to go so I grabbed my keys and slammed the door on my way out. It was dark and I couldn't see much of what was around me but I know the area well enough to roughly where I'm going. I just kept walking taking lefts and rights where I felt like it which is when I noticed someone walking behind me which isn't abnormal but my instinct told me that something wasn't right. To be sure I took a few quick turns only to see the guy still behind me but that could just be a coincidence so then I sped up hoping that would help me lose him but he sped up too. 

That's when I started jogging but that didn't help either which is when the panic sets in and I don't know what to do. The first thing that comes to my mind is to call Kenan but after our argument I don't know if he'll care enough to answer or come help me. I thought about my other options but none of them were going to help me or get to me in time so I had to swallow my pride call Kenan.

Please pick up. Pick up. Come on Kenan for once please just help me. 

"What y/n" he answered 

"I'm being followed I've tried to lose the guy but he's still following me now I'm running but he's running after me please Kenan help me" I said panicking 

"Where are you?" He asked 

"I'll send you my location" I said 

"I'll be there as soon as I can just keep going" he said 

I did exactly as he told me and kept running until I saw a car speeding in my direction which I knew instantly was Kenan. He must've seen me as he stopped the car just in front of me and hopped out. I ran straight towards him and he stopped me by pulling me into a hug and holding me tightly to his chest while I caught my breath. He yelled at the guy who was following me but I didn't hear a word he said I was still panicking and trying to calm down. 

"It's ok you're ok I'm here now" he said 

"Thank you for saving me I was so scared" I said 

"I would never leave you to be hurt by anyone else and I'm sorry for our fight earlier you're right I know you work hard and I could do more to help you" he apologised 

"I'm sorry for what I said too I know I should support you more than I do but even when I'm not at matches I'm thinking about you and the team" I said 

"I have an idea that might make things better and I know you'll try and fight me on it but I think it will make both of our lives so much better" he said 

"What is it?" I asked 

"You quit your job and I'll pay for your tuition and you don't have to give me anything towards the bills that way you can focus on school entirely and you'll have more time to come to some of my games" he suggested 

"Actually if you are really serious and you wouldn't mind then I'm happy to go along with that plan" I said 

"Then it's sorted and I'm sorry I wish things didn't have to get to this point for us to come up with a solution but I'm happy you're ok" he said 

He kissed me then we got in the car and went back home where Kenan helped me write my resignation email for my job and he got me a ticket for their next home game. Weirdly I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders straight away knowing I'd get to see Kenan more and I wouldn't have to stretch myself so thin that I could break at any point. 

[madeby-meru]

Jason Epsiode 9 Thoughts

Yesterday I played whatever I could of episode 9 on Jason's route and finished watching the rest on youtube, so I wanna share my thoughts (generally speaking tho, I actually enjoyed the episode! it was honestly refreshing after.... everything, lol)

beware of spoilers under the cut <3

Okay, this was quite surprising for me. From what I had spoiled myself already I could tell that I was going to like some things about the episode, but I was not expecting to feel overall so positive about it!

From the beginning, I personally really liked all the tidbits of the common route. I liked seeing Tasha and Zahra play cards (seeing their relationship and how close and friendly they seem, what they like, etc), and I also liked the time spent with the inters, they were fun and I generally enjoy seeing the MC interact with other characters. I did miss some more interaction with the other routes, I chose Thomas to work with and honestly it felt like he was barely even there :/ it would have been fun to see him more with the interns and talk about the project he was working on. I don't know, I like this type of "filler" stuff that tells you about the characters and how they act and interact with other people and in different situations, it makes them feel more 3d and real and I fell like this is something the game lacks a LOT. It's nice that we are very focused on our route from the get go cause we get many moments with them, but at the same time it makes the experience very isolating and you dont get to know anyone much besides your route (you also have way less chances to get affinity with other characters, which bothers me honestly, I don't like feeling "locked" with the LI i chose). It gets boring for me but I understand that's just preference and that many people prefer this, so I appreciated all the common route moments we had this episode.

Now, Jason.

God, I absolutely loved it, the more I think about it the more I like it. I liked getting to know more about him, I liked the vulnerable moments, the looks to the side, the sad face, the smidge of angst. The special scene was cute, he looked so soft and kind while keeping that playful air. I wish they had some more banter and more jokes but I liked how they interacted in this episode and how it seemed llike 2 actual adults subtly flirting and connecting. He was very charming here.

HOWEVER, I need to be honest and mentioned all the stuff I didn't like at all.

First of all, it really bothers me that in the spanish version the characters don't seem to have a defined speech style at all. The way Jason speaks sometimes feels SO weird and it doesn't fit him at all. It takes me out so much to hear him speak like that.

Then the writing is... ugh. It feels like it has not been proof read at all, so many repetitiveness? It takes me out of the story a lot and honestly, it feels poor quality and that it has little care put into it

And it really bothers me how they repeated AGAIN the whole "i have never seen him smiled genuinely like this" GIRL YOU DID ????? ON EPISODE 7 ????? YOU SAID THE SAME THING THEN ????? is anyone editing these dialogues be honest with me beemoov

Lastly, my biggest enemy this game: Ysaline

I really, REALLY, don't like her. It bothers me how utterly dramatic she is with the whole "deal with the devil" bullshit (and the amount of times this sentence has been repeated is so obnoxious, we GET IT, be original ffs). Specially cause what the actual fuck has this man done for you to antagonize him and judge him so much? 5 random people that you knew for 2 days told you he was bad and you ran with it, girl have some actual thoughts of your own and stop judging people you know shit about.

Because I am seriously asking, what has Jason done to be "THE DEVIL"? Work hard? Cause that's all I have seen.

(And where did that episode 5 stuff with the "You owe me a favor now" go ???? did everyone forget about this ???? this "deal with the devil" bullshit again ???? I was expecting this to be a relevant line but we are going on episode 10 and I only hear crickets, it has't even been mentionned I really hate how utterly disconnected the episodes feel and how we have literally no plot)

And god Ysaline gave me so much second hand embarassment when she kept accusing him og using Tasha to spy on Devenementiel ????? GIRL? First of all, you are the new hire of a 7 people company, what the fuck would your 16 year old sister have ???? Devenementiel doesnt even have confidential information why would Jason even CARE. This was EMBARASSING.

Also, Jason telling her that he motivated Tasha by telling her that Ysa would be better ?????? Bro what makes you think that, all you have seen of this woman is her being an absoute mess, doing the most stupid and ridicuous bullshit, NOT WORKING (miss girl was out strolling around the city looking for apartments during work hours, she barely even worked that day), and not being able to even organize a damn birthday party. What about this woman is capable or competent? Aren't you supposed to hate incompetent people? hm?

I really mean this but these two have so little chemistry that is DRY as a desert I don't understand what Jason could see in her cause everything we know about the character would point to him disliking her. In his route what would make sense is for Ysalinne to be super hard working person, someone competitive and very focused on her work that takes her professional life seriously. THAT is someone that I can see Jason liking and somewhat admiring and wanting by his side.

Anyway, tldr: I liked this episode, I hope we get more like this, I hope Ysaline grows the fuck up and I hope we have more fun banter and jokes and flirting instead of creepyness <3

[goldsnek]

So, I saw the question about tips for aspiring comic artists and it actually reminded me that I am curious about the topic as well😅

I like to write stories and I like to draw so it seemed logically for me to try my hand at comics as well but I'm struggling extremely with the layout.

It's seems very daunting when you sit in front of the empty page and you have to consider how to arrange the panels.

I'm the kind of artist that sometimes does big changes to almost finished works, so the idea of having to make a final decision before I even start with the actual drawing process, is kind of terrifying for me.

Long story short, how do you put your drawings into panels?

Do you really have to make a final panel layout at the beginning, the way I've been attempting to, or are there other possibilities I simply haven't thought of?

Last but not least, I want you to know that I absolutely love your comic, both because of your spectacular art and the amazing story! ❤️

Hello! Okay this is going to be long but I'll try my best to explain and be concise (and truly sorry for the english!) So, the first rule you need to have in mind is that you don't imagine the scene PER PAGE but PER SEQUENCE. What I mean is, you don't have to imagine a comic (like ''what I'm putting in this page'') but you have to imagine it as a video in your head, like you're directing a movie ( movies and comics are a lot more similar than we think as a media) For example, try to imagine someone waking up and going to open their window, that's a full sequence. it can be done in various ways, depending on what your character is doing and what's the ''mood'' of the scene. Remember always that your character emotions sets the mood for the entire scene. A thing that helps me a lot is ( like I said XD) watching movies, I focus on the mini sequences, a kiss scene, a fight, I pause the movie and rewatch that scenes various times, trying to understand the mood of the scene and how is shot. A sequence can even take 3 or 4 pages or even 10, it depends from whats happening, even more if it's a fight! But like I said the number of pages comes later. another importart thing to remember is that your characters needs ''a place to live'' If you make a story and never show a single panel with a background, the story is gonna lack something 100%; and I know... backgrounds are hard (I hate them) but you need at least 1 panel where you show the places your characters are living in. That is called establishing shot and it needs to be used when your character are moving to other locations. (or if you're talking about other characters in your comic and they are somewhere else) I'll show u some establishing shots now:

Took 3 different comics (narratively and stylistic speaking) Bone, Batman and TinTin to show you that even if the setting of the panels is extremely different, they still all have an establishing shot. Now, of course you don't have to put this in EVERY page, but like I said at least at the start of your comic, or when the characters are moving somewhere else, it's very important to show that. Also remember that the biggest panel you need to have in your sequence is the one where the most important action is happening. For example, if two people are fighting and someone gets slapped, that's the most impactful scene, so that's the scene that will need the biggest panel on your sequence, because it's the most important. Another rule is to make the camera breathe. Let me explain this properly, you, as a comic artist, are like a movie director with a camera. You need to turn the camera in various ways, up and down left and right, but always remember this : Never make a page of faces only. example, here are character A and B having a conversation, a page like this is extremely wrong, because the camera is basically attached to the character face and the viewer/reader is going to feel like they're suffocating in the room with the story characters :

You as an artist have the power to zoom the camera in and out, showing extremely tiny details or making a big panel that shows how Idk... beautiful or eerie or mysterious the background is. The biggest advice I can give you is to read a lot of comics, try to find series you love and study them, see how they make the panels, how the sequence are shown etc. The last rule (there are a lot more so if you have more specific questions just ask) I can give you and this is about your question in specific is that: Yes. Unfortunately you have to make the structure first and that has to be your final decision, if you make a 10 pages comic for example and you decide you don't like some stuff anymore and decide to change all the pages, you're just gonna end up in a endless cycle of always fixing and fixing and never be satisfied. Remeber this: The sketches and layout of the pages are the MOST important thing in a comic. The coloring, lineart, etc... it's just decoration. So hang on and start making layouts, and focus only on those for a period of time and then when you're 100% satisfied with the structure, you go and start adding the ''decorations'' Hope this helps! I'm not very good at explaining , especially in another language, but I tried my best XD

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Parings → Peter Parker x Pregnant! Reader

Warnings → angst, fluff, mental breakdown

Summary → Pregnant reader breaks down, feeling helpless, but Peter comforts her and try to make things easier.

(gif not mine)

You’re standing in the kitchen, staring down at the bowl in front of you, trying to muster the strength to finish preparing lunch. Your hands shake, and tears brim in your eyes. The weight of your growing belly makes it hard to stand for too long, and your back aches so much that every movement feels like a battle. You want to sit down, but the thought of asking Peter for help—again—makes you feel guilty. He’s already been doing so much. He just came back from patrol, he's already exhausted.

A sharp kick from your baby jolts you, making you wince.

“Okay, okay, I get it. You’re hungry,” you whisper to your belly, trying to rub the spot where the kick landed, but it only makes the baby kick again. Frustrated, you let out a shaky breath, your emotions bubbling up faster than you can control.

The kitchen door swings open, and Peter strolls in, his usual carefree smile lighting up his face. But the moment he sees you, his expression shifts to concern.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asks gently, walking toward you.

You can’t hold it in anymore. Tears spill down your cheeks, and you drop the spoon you’re holding. It clatters onto the counter as you bury your face in your hands.

Peter's arms are around you in an instant, pulling you close but careful not to press too hard against your belly. He guides you to a chair, easing you down as you sob into his chest.

"I can’t do this anymore, Peter," you cry, your voice muffled by his shirt. "I can’t even make lunch without feeling like I’m falling apart. My tummy’s so huge, it hurts sometimes, and the baby won’t stop kicking. I just... I feel useless."

Peter crouches in front of you, his hands gently resting on your knees as he looks up at you with those warm, comforting eyes. He brushes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his voice soft and soothing.

"Hey, you’re not useless. You're growing a whole human in there—our baby. That’s amazing, and it’s more than enough. You don't have to do everything by yourself."

"But I can’t do anything, Peter," you whisper, your voice cracking. "I feel so weak, and I hate that I need help with everything."

Peter shakes his head, leaning in to kiss your forehead. "You’re not weak. You’re the strongest person I know. And you don’t have to do everything alone. That’s what I’m here for, okay? I want to help you, I need to help you. Let me, please."

You sniffle, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "But you’re already doing so much. You shouldn’t have to take care of me too."

"I love taking care of you," Peter says softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. "And I love our baby—even if they’re a little kicker." He smirks, his playful tone breaking through the heaviness of the moment. "Just think, they’re already showing off their Spider-strength."

You laugh through your tears, a weak but genuine sound. "I guess they are."

Peter’s hands gently move to your belly, where he rubs slow, soothing circles over the spot where the baby is kicking. His touch seems to calm the baby—or maybe it's just the warmth of his hands—but the kicking slows down, and for the first time in hours, you feel some relief.

"See?" Peter smiles up at you, his eyes soft and full of love. "They’re calming down now. They just needed to know Daddy was here."

You exhale a shaky breath, feeling your body relax slightly. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’ll never have to find out," Peter promises, kissing your belly softly. "I’m always going to be here for you—both of you."

A moment of silence passes, and you lean back in your chair, closing your eyes as Peter continues to rub your belly. His fingers are gentle, and the rhythmic motion starts to lull you into a sense of calm you didn’t think you could feel today.

"Why don’t you take a break?" Peter suggests after a while. "I’ll finish making lunch, and then we can watch a movie or something. I’ll get all the pillows on the couch just the way you like them."

You hesitate for a moment, but the idea of resting—really resting—sounds too good to pass up.

"I don’t want to make you do everything," you mumble.

Peter shakes his head, standing up and kissing the top of your head. "I want to do this. I’ll feel better knowing you’re comfortable."

He moves back to the counter, picking up the spoon you dropped and continuing to prepare lunch as if nothing had interrupted him. His movements are so natural, so full of care, that it almost brings tears to your eyes again—but this time, it’s because of how much love you feel radiating from him.

You lean back, resting a hand on your belly as you watch him cook. The baby gives a soft kick, and you smile, feeling a little more at peace.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Peter glances over his shoulder, his smile bright and full of warmth. "You never have to thank me, babe. I’m the lucky one."

Once lunch is ready, Peter sets everything up on the coffee table in front of the couch. He arranges the pillows and blankets just how you like them, making sure you have everything you need before helping you lie down. You sink into the cushions, feeling like you can finally breathe again.

Peter sits beside you, pulling you into his arms, careful not to put any pressure on your belly. He hands you a plate of food, and for the first time all day, you feel like maybe things are going to be okay.

As you lean against him, his hand rests protectively on your belly, and you realize just how much you rely on him—not just for the physical support, but for the emotional comfort he brings you every day.

"I love you," you whisper, leaning your head on his shoulder.

"I love you more," Peter replies, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

And for a moment, everything feels perfect.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗