#i know a need a tag that’s not the main tags so people stop bothering me. however i’m lazy

[cloudabserk]

i love when people contribute to my posts. please tell me more about how itachi did all that for sasuke’s own good and sasuke is a heterosexual family man

[cathymee]

maybe it's to maintain a sense of tension & turmoil that would eventually reach an explosive peak, a sense of tug-of-war, a back-and-forth to hammer home the ideals they want to deliver and for the viewers to chew on, but although these arguments regarding hiroshi & his stance as a man torn between his loyalty for his country & the loyalty for his Filipino friends and lover is of course important, how they write these scenes & the points they present from this week alone is getting too repetitive...? literally the argument scenes from last night & tonight between adelina & hiroshi is basically the same; the ideas were the same, the dynamics were the same: the aggressive, radical adelina, bristling rage and fear over the injustices she's seen thus far, and the cautious, inspiriting hiroshi, all hopefulness and reassurance one moment as a lover, defensiveness and sternness as a japanese soldier in another. this debate will be ever-present ofc, it is one of the series' biggest conflicts, but it is unfortunately so easy to tell when it is a.) being pulled up as a main topic to move the plot along / be a necessary conflict for character development/introspection / be the conflict to deliver the morals & messages the writers want to send to their viewers, or b.) when it is being pulled up only for the drama and filler to pass the time. like watching the characters sit down to argue for 10 minutes, do other things for the plot for 2 minutes, then sit down again to argue for the next 20 minutes. lol.

[tarmac-rat]

People Who Don't Like Cyberpunk 2077 Stop Posting Your Hot Takes in the Main Tag challenge

[seresinhangmanjake]

I love all your Feyd works! Thank you.

My request is regrding a sensitive topic. So if it makes you feel uncomfortable, please feel free not to write it.

Reader has arranged marriage with Feyd. After a few years they all discover (including her) that she has fertility issues and has trouble getting pregnant so the Baron wants them to divorce. Wife is becoming hopeless. But Feyd who’s utterly in love and devoted to his wife will not have it and pledges loyalty to her.

Worth To Him

Notes/Warnings: obviously this is about fertility problems. It is a sensitive topic. If this bothers you, please do not read. Mention of period sex.

Words: 1500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Sobs wrack your body. One after another after another that keeps your breaths shallow and ragged. Tears coat your lashes, weighing them down. You gave up trying to see clearly through them an hour ago and let yourself get lost in the haze of blindness.

You can’t stop it. You haven’t been able to stop for days. You clutched your pillow like a lifeline, crying into the plush material in a way you haven’t since you were a child. You’ve really proven yourself useless now. You officially have nothing to offer this planet, and the Baron has made that well-known. But what else can you expect when you are incapable of doing the things that are expected of you? How can you expect not to lose the one thing you care about if you cannot give him what he needs?

“If you cannot provide him an heir, you are worth nothing” is what the Baron declared in front of all that exists of his court.

Nothing—the word bounced around the walls of your skull before it finally sank in. You’ve never been nothing until now. You’ve always held some sort of value in some manner or other, even if that manner is in being a political pawn. But no. Here, now, you’re nothing to these people.

At first, you pleaded with him, nearly fell to your hands and knees and told him you’d only been trying for a few months. A few months barely qualifies as adequate time. On your home planet, medical intervention is not discussed until the couple has gone a year with no success. But you’re not on your home planet; there is no medical intervention, and all the Baron said in response was: A few months is too long. You will divorce in a week's time.

Feyd doesn’t know. For the last five days, he’s been on Arrakis, and it was on the third day of his absence that you once again woke to stained sheets. He’ll be disappointed in you, just like the Baron, just like the people of Giedi Prime, just like your parents who agreed to marry you to Feyd for the sake of an alliance that will soon be broken. 

When he returns, they’ll tell him, and he’ll nod with acceptance because that is what he does under order, and you’ll be shipped off. You’ll never see him again. He’ll remarry. He’ll become a father to a child by a woman who is not you. He’ll raise what the people want. He’ll do them proud.

You wonder if he’ll miss you as you will miss him. Will he ever think of you and wish you were in her place? Will he look at the children she’s borne him and wonder what your children would have looked like had you the chance to have them? Will he see their hair and imagine your locks flowing down to their little shoulders? If he peers into their eyes, will he prefer them a shade to match yours instead of hers? You wonder if he’ll be filled with sorrow at what could have been. 

Selfish to think it. There’s no reason to assume he will not enjoy the pleasure his new wife will offer. Neither are you fair in hoping that when he’s inside of her, making the children the Baron demands, he will be thinking of you. 

You cry harder. Your pillow will take ages to dry. Perhaps you’ll move on to his. Soak in the scent of him before you’re ripped away from him and returned to what will be considered by many the end of your life. No other Lord, or future Lord, will take you, not after being owned by a Harkonnen—tainted meat, as they say. You’ll be a burden on your family, an embarrassment to your House’s people, a waste of valuable blood. 

—

Touch stirs you: a soft brush of fingertips over your tear-stained cheek, a thumb grazing over your parted mouth. 

Then a voice. “Wake up.” Your groan of resistance is cut short by a press of lips against yours. A quick peck and then another. “Wake up,” it says, and then one more kiss, much longer this time, that you return before bothering to open your eyes. Your arms wrap around a familiar neck. A tongue gently glides along yours. And then it’s gone. Stolen from you. You want it back. 

Your eyes snap open. At the sight of him sitting beside you, you gasp, quickly scrambling onto his lap. He holds you without question or word. He holds you close to him. You hold him like you never will again. 

Leaning into his body, you push him down onto the mattress and he lands on his back with a chuckle. Your legs straddle his hips, your weight resting comfortably on top of his, and with his hand in your hair, he pulls you back into a kiss. Gentle at first, a caress, then harder, needier, greedier. He could bruise you if he wanted, leave his mark, and you invite him to. Something to take back home with you—a bruising kiss. You hope it hurts. You hope you internally bleed and purple blooms around your mouth. You hope it never fades and you wear the reminder of him for the rest of your life.

His lips part. His tongue is back in your mouth, asking for yours. You savor the slick warmth, knowing you’ll never again be kissed like this. To be honest, you never thought you would be kissed like this at all. You didn’t know kisses like this existed. If someone had told you a year ago that this man would be kissing you this way, with a passion you wouldn’t have dreamed him capable of releasing, you’d have laughed them out of the room. 

He unlocks your mouths for a breath and gifts you a smile. Rare. Almost out of place on his face. The first one you received was five months into your marriage, and you’ve never gotten used to them. 

“I missed you,” he says, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind your ear. 

You want to tell him how you’ve missed him, how painful it’s been without him by your side, but you don’t know that you can speak the words, not without every emotion you’ve felt over the last few days bubbling to the surface and overpowering your joy at seeing him—the last time you’ll greet him upon his return before you’re gone. 

He frowns. “You didn’t miss me?” he asks, and since you can’t deny him a damn thing, you gather the will to say: “Of course I did,” but your throat catches midway through. You can’t look at him. He allows it for a few seconds, giving you a chance to meet his stare on your own, but when you don’t, his fingers on your chin turn your face back to his so you can no longer avoid the prying blue shade of his irises. 

“What is it?” he says.

“I know he told you.” There’s a brief pause before your husband hums in acknowledgment. Fingertips trace up and down your spine over the thin material of your nightgown. “The doctor was ordered to examine me after I bled. He’s not sure I’m able to give you a baby. And the Baron–”

“My uncle does not make my decisions for me,” he declares, and you’re so stunned by the defiance that it takes you a moment to collect yourself. 

“Feyd, do you not understand? I don’t know if I can do it,” you tell him. “My body is–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts. “You’re perfect, and you’re mine. You will never belong to another man, nor will I belong to another woman.” 

“Neither of us has a choice.”

“You believe so?”

Your brow pinches, mouth setting in a line. If he’s playing a game, you’re not enjoying it. “As if you aren’t aware of who has the power here.”

“I am aware,” he says. “But Rabban is dead. I’m all that’s left of our line. If he wants his heir, then I’m keeping my wife.”

He speaks with such certainty that the charge of excitement you get whenever you watch him take command of his armies seeps into you, giddily wiggling all of your little nerve endings. But the feeling fades as fast as it came. It changes nothing. Whether or not he defies his uncle does not alter your circumstances. 

You sigh. “But what of your heir?”

“We’ll keep trying,” he says. “You’re not going anywhere. I'm too attached. He doesn’t get to marry me to a woman like you and then take you away.”

“A woman like me, who might not be able to give you what you need,” you say. “Why aren’t you bothered?”

“Having my heir is not where your worth lies to me. If we cannot have a baby, we will take someone else's,” he tells you without snicker or grin. His fingers fist into the material of your nightgown. “Now take this off. I want my wife.”

“I am still bleeding.”

He scoffs. “When have I ever cared?”

[shinestarhwaa]

LOVEGAME || WOOSAN

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Wooyoung x San x Fem reader

Word Count: 2.9K

Tags/Warnings: Dirty language, switch!wooyoung, switch!san, switch!reader, threesome, polyamory, established relationship, woosan!soccer boyfriends, fxm & mxm content, they're horny af, so am I, fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, anal play, sex toys, squirting, double stuffing, cockstepping, cockslapping, spanking, mommy kink, brat taming, degrading, praise, namecalling, fingersucking

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @vesvosmozhno @therealcuppicake @unholywriters @enbymingi @jjoongstar @igbylicious

ENJOY!

"You did it!" You screamed as you ran towards your boyfriends. San was walking upfront and he immediately wrapped his arms around you before pulling Wooyoung into the hug as well. "I'm so proud, you have no idea!"

You pressed a kiss onto Wooyoung's cheek, who had just scored the winning goal. "You really saved our asses," San grinned as he ruffled Wooyoung's hair. Wooyoung giggled and flipped his non-existent long hair. "I know."

"Both of you are gonna get so lucky tonight, come home with me please?" San laughed and laid his hand on your lower back. "We have to shower darling, we're covered in sweat."

"San, I couldn't care less honestly, I just need to be filled up with cock right about now," you hissed. Wooyoung laughed and pulled you close to him. "Oh I'm not saying no to that."

Soon enough you were in Wooyoung's car, who was driving you to your house. You sat in the backseat with San, who couldn't keep his hands off of you. His hands roamed your soft thighs and he spread them apart. San's fingers trailed up your inner thigh, disappearing under your denim skirt.

"Baby, San, can't you wait until we're home? It's literally like 10 minutes away," you sighed. You saw that Wooyoung was watching the two of you through the rearview mirror, a big smirk plastered on his face and eyes full of lust. "See, you're getting Wooyoung all distracted and he's supposed to be driving."

"Wooyoung can drive just fine while I get your cunt nice and ready for us to play with tonight. You know what I can do in 10 minutes, don't you sweetheart?" San's voice was husky and full of arousal as he grunted in your ear when his hand cupped your clothed, wet pussy.

See the thing is, watching your boyfriends playing on the field always got you hot and bothered. You weren't sure if it was the jersey's, the teamwork, the calves or the fact that they had an insane amount of tension between them on the field but God, did it get you wet.

It was almost impressive that nobody knows about the polyamourous thing going on between the three of you. Some people have been suspicious, assuming San and Wooyoung are a gay couple or that you've banged them before but they didn't know it was more than that. You loved them with all your heart and the sex you're getting is just a big bonus.

San's fingers rubbed your clothed clit and you felt your wetness spreading, soaking the delicate panties Wooyoung had kindly bought you a while ago. "You're so easy aren't you? Wet in only a minute time."

"Jokes on you Choi, she's probably been soaking ever since she saw us step out on the field. Stop stroking your ego," Wooyoung said from behind the wheel. "Yeah Choi, stop stroking your ego, stroke something else," you grinned as your hand cupped his hardening cock.

San grunted as he slipped his fingers into your panties, sliding them through your wet folds. "You've got such a perfect little cunt baby, can't wait to ruin it later." "You're all talk, Sanie, who says you're ruining me later? Who says you're not begging on your knees while I step on your precious cock?"

His eyes were on fire now and he plunged two of his thick fingers into your awaiting hole. You gasped and fell forward into his embrace. San didn't ease you into it at all, taking advantage of your wetness by immediately pumping his fingers in and out of you at an inhumane pace.

"S-Sanie slow down, slow down," you cried, but San didn't care. "No baby, I'm just opening you up nicely. How else are you gonna fit our cocks in there?"

You panted and cried out his name as he kept going, ultimately finding your g-spot as he curls his fingers inside of you. San attacks your neck with countless kisses and little nibbles - a habit he's taking over from your other lover.

Before you could announce your upcoming climax he withdrew his fingers and sucked them clean as Wooyoung parked his car at your house. You panted softly and adjusted your skirt before exiting the car. The sound of your heels clicking on the concrete was like an aphrodisiac to the guys. Something about it made you feel powerful and sexy, which was probably why they enjoyed it so much as well.

You told them to follow you into the house and you ordered them to wait in the living room. They sat on the couch as you stayed in the hallway, getting rid of the miniskirt and tanktop you were wearing. You were only left in a lacy lingerie set and your heels before you entered the living room again.

The two boys were sloppily making out, cocks hardened in their jerseys. When they heard the clicking of your heels again they stopped and their mouths fell to the ground, as did Wooyoung, who immediately got on his knees. You smirked and came a little closer.

"I bet you like what you're seeing, hm?" Wooyoung nodded enthusiastically, loving the moments where you dominated them. "San, be a good boy and get on your knees beside Youngie."

San wasted no time when he heard the serious tone in your voice, taking place next to his boyfriend. "The two of you have played a very good game... So I should reward the two of you. But I think that you still need to earn it... Don't you?"

"Y-Yes, mommy, anything for you," Wooyoung breathed out. He switched easily into his submissive side, while San always needed a little more convincing. He stayed quiet for now.

"Well Wooyoung has been a good boy, to my surprise, you've been a bit naughty, my Sanie," you smirked. "Take those jerseys off boys."

The guys didn't waste any time, the football jerseys laying on the floor as they sat on their knees with their hard cocks out. "That's more like it..."

You cupped Wooyoung's cheek, pressing a kiss on his head before standing in front of San. "Now you've been naughty haven't you?" "I...I have," he mumbled. "Speak up when I talk to you," you spat. "I have," San mumbled again. You rolled your eyes as San didn't obey you to your liking.

Wooyoung looked at you with full anticipation for what was about to happen. Your eyes narrowed as you stared into San's eyes before lifting your foot up and placing it on San's cock, pressing your heel down into his shaft.

He cried out and bucked his hips upward, only hurting himself more. "You disobey me just because you like getting your cock tortured, isn't that right?" You ask San. He looks terribly embarrassed before he nodds, his eyes focussed on yours.

"Well if you want me to step on your cock and play with you, you ask me nicely, is that clear, my little whore?" You ask him. San nodds and pressed kisses over your knee and thigh. "Yes, Y/N, next time I'll ask," he sighed, still bucking up his hips.

"Well you're not getting off on my heels now, San," you said before kneeling down and taking his cock into your hand. "Wooyoung would you be a doll and help me punish our big boy?" Wooyoung smirked and nodded, scooching closer to San, sitting himself behind his boyfriend. San leaned back into Wooyoung's embrace before he yelped when you slapped his cock. "Y/N!" he cried.

You just smirked and did it again and again, making him shake, tremble and breathe heavily. "You act so big, so cool, until someone's torturing your precious cock, isn't that right? You love it, don't you?" Wooyoung whispered into his ear.

San moaned when he started to pump his shaft up and down. Wooyoung kissed the nape of his neck as you tossed your heels into the hallway and got rid of the lingerie set. San watched you undress as Wooyoung jerked him off at a quick pace, earning soft mewls and cries from him.

"You two are menaces," he grunted as he felt himself get closer to climaxing, cock twitching in Wooyoung's hand. He was feeling like putty in his lover's hands until he found the strength to escape Wooyoung's embrace.

San panted while he grabbed the both of you by your arms, taking you to your bedroom where you were both seated on your knees in front of him. "I'm done with your teasing, you're not winning from me in this game. Mouths open, now."

Wooyoung and you opened your mouths instantly. San smirked and slowly slid his cock into Wooyoung's mouth, pumping it in and out a few times before switching to your mouth. With every switch he got rougher, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

San laughed and thrusted harder into your mouth, making you tear up. "Who's the whore now, huh?" He scoffed. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you pressed your thighs together, looking for any kind of friction.

The taller male pulled his thick length out of your mouth again, pushing it into Wooyoung's. The younger moaned around the shaft as he started to play with his own neglected cock. You leaned down and lowered your mouth onto his leaking tip, licking it clean. Wooyoung mewled and bucked his hips up, forcing his cock into your mouth.

San threw his head back and moaned loudly when Wooyoung started to deepthroat him. You felt Wooyoung's hand in your hair, gently pushing your head down onto his dick as he kept bucking his hips up. Tears flowed down your cheeks as he did so and you could feel your pussy leaking arousal by now.

San pulled his cock out of Wooyoung's mouth and watched the scene you had going on with the younger. "Fuck, that's hot," he grunted. Wooyoung was a moaning mess, getting his cock sucked by you. Soon enough you were pulled off his cock before he could cum.

"Can I put a vibrator in your pussy?" Wooyoung asked as his tongue licked a stripe up from your left breast to your jaw. "A-a vibrator? Yeah, you can," you moaned. Wooyoung brought you to the bed and searched through the drawer of your nightstand. While Wooyoung was searching for the right toy you and San laid down, bodies colliding as you made out with him.

San's tongue slid over your bottom lip as he opened your legs, fingers finding your sensitive clit in no time. You whined when he pinched your clit before rubbing it in quick circles. "San, Sanie," you moaned his name.

"My good little slut," he grunted, rutting against your thigh. "W-who's the slut here, hm, Sanie?" "I think we established all three of us are sluts for each other, sweethearts," Wooyoung stated before joining you on the bed with a vibrator in his hand.

Wooyoung turned it on, putting it on your clit on the lowest setting. San's fingers travelled to your mouth instead, inserting two of his fingers in there. You moaned and took them into your mouth, sliding your tongue over them and wetting them nicely.

Your breath shook when Wooyoung turned the vibrator up. The buzzing sound only riled you up more and you started to grind your pussy against it, still working on San's fingers. "You're so needy, aren't you?" Wooyoung smirked as he watched you fuck yourself against the vibrator.

"Y-yes, God, it just feels so good, I'm not gonna last," you warned him. When Wooyoung heard this he turned the vibrator up to the highest setting, making you scream his name out loud, saliva running down your chin as San's fingers still laid on your tongue.

Your body was shaking and thighs were trembling as your orgasm rocked through you. Wooyoung showed no sign of stopping the vibrator, but he pushed it harder into your clit instead. Your eyes rolled back into your head when the overstimulation soon enough became too much.

"N-No, so sensitive! W-Wooyoung please! Please!" You begged him, but he did not budge. He moved the vibrator around your clit and send you right into the seventh heaven, bringing you to a second orgasm.

"Gosh, baby," San groaned as he watched Wooyoung ride out your orgasm and put away the toy, "looked so pretty squirting for us."

You looked at them in horror before noticing the grey sheets had turned into a darker shade beneath your wet pussy. "I squirted?" "Such a good and pretty pussy, doing so well," Wooyoung smirked. "God, you and your filthy mouth," you said, rolling your eyes before connecting your lips into a messy kiss.

You laid on top of wooyoung as you kept making out with him, moaning into his mouth when your pussy slid over his hard cock. "Put it in," you whined against his lips. He smirked and reached down for his cock, slowly sliding it into your pussy. When you cried out Wooyoung's name you suddenly felt a mass press against your back.

"Don't keep me out on the fun here," San said with a smirk. He stroked his rigid shaft a few times before sliding it into your pussy alongside Wooyoung's.

You let out a scream and you teared up as you felt your boyfriends completely stretch out your poor hole. You fell on Wooyoung's chest and panted out when both of them slowly started to move their cocks in and out of you.

"Such a good girl, you're gonna let us fuck you like this right? Fill you up nicely like the beautiful cumdump you are, pretty little slut," San hissed in your ear. "O-oh my God, please," you begged. It hurt like hell but the pain mixes with the immense pleasure soon enough, taking over your brain.

When they start to rut into you, your eyes roll back and you can't stop moaning out. You're not the only one having a tough time though. San was hissing and huffing in your ear while Wooyoung grunted as he fucked up into you. Sweat collected on your bodies, moans filled the room and the bed was shaking and holding on for dear lord.

"T-too much, too much," you cried out when the pace got picked up again. You reached behind you to pat San, to show him it truly was becoming too much. He slowly slipped out of your cunt and made you sit up on Wooyoung's cock.

It was stretched so well now you easily slid up and down his shaft. "Wooyoung, oh god Woo!" You cried as you bounced on him. San spread Wooyoung's legs and played around with his hole lightly, earning some whines from him. It only took a few more thrusts until Wooyoung announced his orgasm, hips bucking up and muscles spasming as he released inside of you.

Before you could even process Wooyoung's climax you were pulled off him and pushed down onto the matrass. San slid into you from behind and started to pound you hard and deep.

"This is for slapping and stepping on my fucking cock babygirl," he grunted in your ear before absolutely losing his temper, jackhammering his shaft inside of you. You cried and screamed his name, all muffled by the pillow your face was burried in.

Soon, San started to moan, chasing his own orgasm which he reached within seconds. He spurted his seeds into your awaiting cunt, which was clenching and spasming around him.

He slipped out of you and turned you around to let you breathe for a bit. "So, you each got your fill, can I cum now?" You asked when you gained your breath again. "How do you wanna cum?" Asked Wooyoung, who also came back to life after his intense orgasm.

"Eat my pussy, both of you... Both of you between my legs, now," you sighed. The two boys wasted no time, laying between your spread legs, watching the mess they made of your sopping cunt.

San teased your pussy with some kitten licks, tasting the mixture of his and Wooyoung's semen on his tongue. Then Wooyoung joined in, flicking his tongue on your clit repeatedly. "O-oh that's it, yes, there," you moaned when Wooyoung sucked at it. San moved up slightly, attacking your clit right next to Wooyoung.

Their tongues started to swirl together, tasting your pussy while also tasting each other. You ran your hand through your hair and moaned out when their tongues moved faster alongside your clit, turning up the stimulation.

"Baby, oh God, I'm so close, lick it baby, just like that, use it, use it, Fuck!"

A wave of pleasure overruled your body and you climaxed on their tongues, arousal and cum dripping out of your hole into their mouths. Wooyoung cleaned your pussy up while San licked the slick off your thighs and ass.

"Look at that," San smirked, "all nice and clean again."

You were so fucked out after your orgasm you could barely react to them. Wooyoung grinned and gave San a kiss on the lips. "You were rough on her." "She was teasing me, that's what she gets. That's my love game," he laughed. "You're a menace," you mumbled, pulling both of them close, "love game, my ass."

"Your ass gets a turn next time."

[saintslewis]

𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

- drabble.

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black! fem reader

summary: reader will never let the paddock forget who Lewis Hamilton is.

warnings: cussing.

saint’s team radio 🪩: this is just a lil something. I was pissed tf off yesterday because of some lewis “fans” and i will never miss an opportunity to let ppl know who my goat is 🫦. enjoy

ps, i’m not adding actual reporter’s names for this so i made up random names.

taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @emjayewrites @purplelewlew @hopefulromantic1 @motheroffae @exotic-iris13 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen

-

The tag from your denim jacket had been irritating you since the second you put it on but you chose to forget about it, often adjusting it with your nails or a little shimmy of your shoulders.

Holding the mic from Sky Sports F1 wasn’t all too odd for you, the broadcast team only handing it to you when talking about Lewis and his achievements. Your support for the Stevenage driver was strong, often being as labelled as biased but you couldn’t care less. The support was mutual between the two of you, usually lingering on the line of friendship but doubt and time was always against you.

Your sunglasses sat on your braided head with a bored expression on your face, just wanting to get this segment over with so that you could go back to your individual blogging and interviews. Standing patiently in front of the cameras while other reporters ran around unorganised, you played with your beaded ‘44’ bracelet.

“My goodness, Y/n! I have no clue how you are so calm, this is always so hard!” One of them exclaimed, laughing in the process. “Not to mention the outfit! You look like you could go to a party!” Another laughed, her smile faltering when your eyes snapped to her, expression never changing.

After a while, the segment began and off the reporters went on a scripted tangent about other teams before getting to the main topic; Lewis. “Now, onto a different subject, Lewis Hamilton’s performance in that car has been nothing short of a…disaster if I could say.” Jimmy said, deciding to look at you as he spoke. Almost as if he was challenging you.

“For a specific race weekend or overall? His teammate, George is doing significantly better. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like he doesn’t know how to drive.” Jennifer spoke, poorly making an attempt of a joke.

“I’m not too sure why you’re speaking as if he is a rookie. You lot can see that Mercedes hasn’t been doing well as a collective yet you’re targeting one driver who has brought then 8 constructer titles rather than the other who has one win.” Lifting your mic, you spoke with a clear voice, never stuttering.

Frank shook his head and tried to chuckle. “Look Y/n. We understand he’s your boyfriend or whatever but we need to be factual here. What Ferrari has done is a mistake by signing him. I mean, there needs to be more space for others and he’s taking up space.”

“And Alonso’s dusty ass doesn’t need to leave? Using my support for Lewis to try and justify your dislike for him is unprofessional. I have no clue how you have the gumption to say all this.” You responded, still not moving from your spot.

The other 4 reporters stared at you in shock along with other people stopping in the paddock, surrounding the space just in front of the official f1 hospitality suite.

“There’s no need to use aggressive language, Y/n.” Jennifer lifted her hand to place on your shoulder but you moved away in time. “Aggressive for who?” You challenged, tilting your head.

It had gotten quite. “The viewers. It’s not a lie, Lewis is just not good anymore. He needs to make space.” One of them spoke up but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to anyone else other than Frank, your eyes trained on him.

“What? We need to speak with the producers, having an independent journalist was a mistake.” Frank smirked.

“You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. Thanks for having me, Sky Sports F1.” You turned to the camera to blow a kiss then you gave the mic you were holding to whoever would catch it.

Walking away from the set, you knew what you did was undeniably unprofessional but those people had always had a vendetta against Lewis and any reporter/journalist who support him. Breathing out, you sashayed your way through the paddock with people staring as your braids glided in the slight breeze.

The buzz of your phone shook you out of your racing mind, a little gasp escaping your mouth as you read the notification from instagram.

lewishamilton no joke, that was the best thing i’ve ever seen. glad we have that interview together in 5 minutes :)

You first looked around the paddock after reading that message but you figured that he watched it live just like everyone else did. Your anger for that segment had clouded your thoughts so much, you forgot about the interview you were supposed to have with the champion.

Rushing to the large luxurious paddock club, you received all types of looks from those who either clearly watched the broadcast live or they’re looking at your outfit, although the latter was made up in your mind.

Luckily, he hadn’t arrived to the designated room you booked to have the interview with him but as soon as you got your phone out to record and your notes, the screams and excitement were heard from outside the door and a smile couldn’t help but sneak on your face.

You have only interviewed him three times in your entire career but every time you did so, he never wanted it to end, always trying to make it longer by asking his own questions to you or just sharing a laugh.

With security opening the door for him, he entered the room and spotted you with a smile on his face. He entered alone in the mercedes shirt already on. No words needed to spoken by either of you, Lewis opening his arms for a hug to greet you. Once in his embrace, you thought it’d be quick but to your surprise, it lasted a few moments longer.

“Hi Y/n.” Lewis spoke, a hand still on your shoulder. You took a quick breath and immediately relaxed on the spot. “Hey Lewis.”

“Your response to Sky was insane but I liked it.” He chuckled, sitting across from you with his legs open and a ring clad hand sat comfortably on his lap.

You didn’t want to show him how the sight affected you especially when your emotions are sky high so you remained calm on the outside. “It’s just…I’m pretty sure I lost my job just now because of how I reacted.” You sighed out, flicking a few braids back.

“Some of them had said worse things so you’re okay.” Lewis responded, his tone wasn’t all too sure but he just wanted to lift your mood. “Yeah but I’m black. They used micro aggressions too.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at everything once recalling back to that moment.

“I heard. I’ll have a word with Sky.” He reassured you. “Oooh okay, Sir.” You joked, masking how the reassurance made your stomach flutter. You’d like to think he was openly flirting with you but you quickly put that thought at the back of your mind.

“I just don’t want those people to forget who you are, you know? I’m sure you hear this all the time. You know what you’re doing and you’re the best at it. I wanna remind the people who the goat is.” You rambled a bit, noticing his smile growing as he listened to you.

“You’re too kind, really. I know what I am, it’s just a little tough right now.” He shrugged as he fully leaned back into his seat. “If you need me to fight anybody in your team, let me know.” You winked, flashing a comical smile that made Lewis laugh.

Giving you a once over, Lewis leaned forward and rested his tatted arms on his knees. “You look good today. You always do but today…phenomenal.” He spoke, his voice noticeably relaxed. “Don’t make me blush, Sir.” You smiled, failing terribly at hiding your feeling.

“That nickname, Y/n,” He chuckled. “Is that door locked?” He asked. All you had to do was nod at the man and Lewis smirked, licking his lips in the process.

“C’mere.”

saint’s notes 🪩: slightly rushed, george pissed me off, hope you enjoyed. bye. <3

[legendary-lunatic]

I have been apart of the Danny Phantom fandom since it was airing on TV, I love it with a burning passion and probably always will- and not to be a jerk but it’s annoying as hell that half of the fandom content is DC crossover stuff now. I’m pretty sure you have your own tag, stop tagging the main fandom tag- which to be clear, is “Danny Phantom.” It’s not a character tag, it’s a fandom tag, stop clogging it.

DC/DP is basically its own fandom now, if people wanted to find it they know it’s there. There’s no way for me to block it, Tumblr still pops up with an annoying banner that tells me something is there I don’t want to be reminded of every ten seconds. And even then, why is it that I have to filter content for my own fandom?

When I click on the Danny Phantom tag I’m expecting to see Skulker, or Johnny 13, or Young Blood, or other Danny Phantom world content or lore- do y’all even bother with that or do you just see Danny as a pre made ghost OC? Cause you can just do that and not tag an entire other fandom. I want Danny Phantom shit based around the Danny Phantom Universe with Danny Phantom characters.

This was not here to this degree four years ago, what the heck happened?

I say this as a member of my college Comic Book Club- I Love DC. I absolutely adore DC- In fact I like to go to the DC part of Tumblr for DC stuff and I am currently reading Batman comics- Why am I getting posts about it in my Danny Phantom fandom? Half the time you are tagging content which doesn’t even have Danny in it at all and you just automatically associate the Bat Family with the Danny Phantom tag because that’s your obsession.

I get it, you can love crossovers, that’s great. So do I- tag it right. Stop using the main fandom tag. Crossovers are okay in moderation, like sprinkles on ice cream— the topping should not be swallowing the entire meal. I should not walk in and be served an entire bowl of sprinkles and asked ‘would you like some ice cream with that?’ Like, Yeah obviously, I came for the ice cream, not sure why you assume I wanted some other random thing.

“Hi, can I order a bean burrito?”

“One deluxe hamburger coming right up.”

“That’s not even remotely what I asked for or what’s on the menu.”

“Don’t care, NEXT.”

You need to understand this is not a normal case or I wouldn’t even say anything. This isn’t some cute crossover that passes every once in a while and can be tagged as all the fandoms involved for visibility- you are literally swallowing up the fandom. We know you are there, please, please stop. Do not give me the blocking lecture, in fact I have already blocked you; Probably hundreds of other people already have, and if anything you’re just pissing off Danny Phantom fans who otherwise might enjoy seeing your content every once in a while when it’s relevant or when they look for it. There are a lot of DpDc fans with cool art I wouldn’t mind seeing if I’m curious, but now I’m just blanket pissed by anything popping up in my feed that should not be there.

How did we get here? I’ll even do you a favor and not tag this as DPxDC because I think it’s rude to bombard another fandom with content they probably don’t want to see. You should try it.

I’d say this goes for other fandoms as well, but to be frank seeing one post in a thousand about a crossover idea isn’t nearly the same as every other post.

[httpscomexee]

No, You Don't

Day 3 of Kink-Tober - Bondage

Summary: You knew he was crazy for you, but not that crazy.

(Find What I’m currently writing by checking my pinned post)

Parings: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: (Lmk if I missed any) Stalking, implied murder, blood, revolution, pv (Not very long), intruder, drugging, language, cheating, and finally, bondage kink. (I absolutely hate this, but lmk how you guys feel).

Main tags: @cellyx33 @shybluebirdninja

Word Count: 3295 (Find my Kink-Tober list here)

P.S. If you would like to be added to the Kink-Tober tag list, just let me know.

He had everything figured out. It was the perfect plan to ask you to Prom. Everything was going to plan, at least on his side. He had already bought some flowers, and he made a poster all by himself (with a little help from Ned), so now all he needed to do was find you, ask you. Tell you his lines, the ones he rehearsed in front of the mirror about a thousand times. He knew exactly where you were right now. As soon as he turned the corner, he knew you would be standing at your locker. But he pauses. His eyes glued on you and…

Flash…?

What were you doing… his hands on your waist, and his lips connected to yours. Peters turns back around, using the wall as his shield.

He thinks about it. He wasn’t sure whether or not it was even true. It made no sense to him, he never expected you to kiss Flash of all people. But he knew he would have to do something about it. Something to ensure you were only his…

“Hey!” You hear his footsteps behind you before he stops in front of you, a huge smile on his face as his body keeps you from walking any further. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Home, Peter. I’ve had a long day.”

“Yea, I heard what happened, I’m sorry.” He steps aside, and starts walking next to you. He’s been rather clingy this week.

“It’s not that big of a deal, why are you apologising?”

“Well I know how bad you wanted to be in the play.”

“Not bad enough to care.”

“Then what’s bothering you?” You.

“I’m just tired, exams really snuck up on us this year.” You throw him a lame excuse, hoping he would just leave you be.

Obviously you didn’t hate him, but you weren’t exactly close to him either. You had no fucking idea who he was until he randomly decided to start popping up behind you in the halls, asking you random questions, or telling you random things about yourself, then the second Flash showed up, he shuts up, and leaves. It was weird, and you didn’t think much of it. You had even told Flash about it, which he wanted to kick Peter's ass, but you easily made him drop the situation, deciding it would be best to ignore it.

“Yea…” His voice goes quiet, and you know Flash is nearby.

“Hey baby…” Flash wraps his arm around your waist and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Hey loser.” He nods towards Peter, who offers him a half-witted smile and nod.

“Sup Flash.” He shuffles awkwardly on his feet. “I’ll uh… I’ll catch you later Y/N, nice seeing you.” Peter turns, walking in the opposite direction from the exit.

“He’s so weird.”

“Hey don’t mean!” You smack his arm jokingly, his arm moving to go around your shoulders and press another kiss to your head.

“What? I’m not wrong. You know he’s fucking weird. He follows you everywhere you go.”

“I know… I think he’s just lonely.” You shrug, walking out the door as he holds it open for you.

“I’m still taking you home right?”

“Yes Flashy.”

“And date night tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

Well shit… You groan, rolling onto your back, letting the outfit you had planned for tonight fall onto the ground for you to pick up later.

It didn’t bother you much that he cancelled the date the first time. Then there was a second time, then a third, and this was the fourth time. You were starting to get annoyed. It was a different excuse every time. There was first studying for an exam, he didn’t even show up to school the next day for the exam, then there was his dad in the hospital for breaking his arm, the next day you saw pictures on his facebook of him playing golf, last time is was his car broke down, and he didn’t want you driving because your car was in the shop, and now this.

Of course, you didn’t believe him. His mother always got back from work at 7PM, and the date was planned for 8. Also, you knew there was Saturday school today because your bestfriends little brother went there every Saturday. You are honestly debating just ending the relationship.

But he’s so sweet. You think to yourself, turning onto your side and hugging a pillow as you keep yourself from crying over some stupid boy. You’d been with him for three years now, and he wasn’t such a jerk in the beginning.

When you first started dating, he would show up randomly at your house while you were in your pyjamas and minion slippers eating pizza for breakfast, a beautiful set of flowers in his hands, a new one every week to replace the old ones. Now he doesn’t even buy you water. You knew something was up when he stopped throwing his arm over your shoulders in public. He’s only been doing it since Peter has been hanging around you.

Peter.

God he was annoying. Where did he even come from? You were just chilling in the halls looking through your locker like it was a fridge and some random snack would eventually appear, then he was there, with that stupid smile on his face that made him look like the most innocent puppy, the most adorable stupid smile, and all he said was ‘hi.’ before awkwardly walking away, you could swear he was sweating bullets.

You knew he liked you. He couldn’t possibly make it more obvious. With his daily goodmorning texts that you’ve only responded to about 3 times in the past two months, and nightly goodnight texts, and the three times a week good afternoon text when he wakes up late. You haven’t even put his name as a contact in your phone, you know that would only piss off Flash when he does his weekly “Do you have any boys in your contacts?” check every Monday.

Wow.

You lie there, staring at the wall.

How stupid were you? You were in one of the most toxic and un-trustworthy relationships possible and you’re only just now noticing it?

You put your all into Flash, making sure he was okay every second of the day, always the one planning days out. You were even expected to pay for the dinner tonight. Stupid considering he was the rich one in a big house.

You pick up your phone to check his location, he was home, and his little brother was at school. His parents were working.

You sigh. His little brother is at school. A bing comes from your phone, your friends name popping up as a notification: Hey, still going out with Flash tonight?

You toss your phone to the foot of the bed and sit up, not caring when it bounces off the mattress and falls to the floor and under the bed. That piece of shit. He was cheating on you. It was obvious, and you’ve deflected that thought a thousand times, you’ve never wanted to believe it, so hearing it was enough for the waterworks to break, thanking God you were home alone so you could cry as loud as you want, which you do.

Leaning back against your headboard, your hands move to your eyes as tears begin to fall down your cheeks, an occasional sob coming from your throat as you stand up. You were so fucking done. You take some jewellery from your desk, necklaces and bracelets he had bought you when you first started dating, and you throw it into a bag, then you storm over to your wardrobe and you find two hoodies that you had borrowed from you, tossing those next to the little plastic bag, your tears still falling from your eyes and clouding your vision as you curse profanities and complain about what’s happened. Then you freeze.

Your parents weren’t supposed to be home, but the sound of the floor creaking just outside of your room has your heart stopped. You were never a fan of being home alone, making every little sound scare the shit out of you.

But this wasn’t just a little sound. It was the creak of the floor, just a few inches from your door on the right most piece of wood that had made the sound, and that only happens when it’s been walked on. So yea, you were scared, and confused. Someone was outside your door.

“Layla?” You shout out, thinking maybe your sister got home from school early, but there’s no response. “Mom…?” Your voice begins shaking, and you reach back inside of your wardrobe, gripping the neck of a metal bat before approaching your door. “Is that you Hank?” You call another name, your dog's name, then your heart skips as you head quick heavy steps running down the hallway, and back down the stairs. “Alexa, lock the front door!” You shout, not sure why. You want them to leave, but you just lock the door and you dart down the stairs, following the sound of your dogs growling. You turn the corner and there Hank was, his hair standing on his back and his ears pinned to the back of his head. He was a big dog, a German Shepherd with a damned strong bite force. Something your moms ex found out the hard way. But Hank wouldn’t attack without a command, so he stood there, blocking the exit as he stared up and the man dressed in all black, a hoodie over his head. “Who are you?” You shout, gripping the bat harder as you prepare to help your dog fuck this dude up.

“I uh… I don’t want any trouble. I tried knocking but you didn’t answer, and the door was unlocked.” It was true, your mom never locked the door behind her when she left to work.

“So you think it’s okay to just walk in?” Your voice is stern, and you approach him, his eyes landing on your bat “Hank, go lie down, good boy.” You tell your dog, and he hides his teeth before leaving the door, giving the man a little side eye before walking away.

“I don’t want any trouble, I was just worried…” His voice cracks mid sentence, and you swear you recognised the voice. “P-Peter…?” He’s silent as he drops his hands and stares at you. He looks back at where your dog was standing before removing his hoodie. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” You shout as he walks towards you.

“You weren’t answering me texts, and they weren’t going through. I was worried.”

“So you come into my home uninvited?” He doesn’t say anything again, and his eyes drift down to the metal bat in your hand, which you keep a nice grip on.

“I’m sorry…”

“Get out.” You tell him, pointing towards the door he came in through.

“I just wanted to talk.”

“Well I don’t, get out.”

“I have a gift for you.” Of course he did.

“Look, I get you’re trying to be friendly, but I have a boyfriend, Peter.”

“No, you don’t.” His voice lowers, almost sinisterly as he approaches you, a little too close for comfort as you take a single step back. “Can we go to your room? Your dog is…” He turns around, his eyes landing on the dog who’s cautiously watching him. “A little paranoid.”

You think about it for a moment before sighing. What harm could he possibly do? You wonder, then turn towards the stairs as you lead him up to your room, the rightmost piece of wood creaking under your weight, and he closes the door behind him for you.

“What’s in it?”

“It’s a surprise, but do you have a restroom I could use first?” He asks, and you look him up and down, not sure you trusted him enough to even use his restroom, and you notice his gloves.

“Yea, it's over there.” You nod your head towards a closed door in your room, and he goes into it quickly after he places the box with a little pink bow on your desk.

What could he have possibly gotten you? You trail your fingers over the little pink bow on the white box, and curiosity gets the best of you, your index finger and thumb pulling open the bow, and then you open the box. The item inside is covered by black feathers, so you push them aside, and the second your eyes catch what's in the box, you’re horrified. An immediate sick feeling bubbling up through your stomach as you cover your mouth and involuntarily gag. That was a fucking finger. You tell yourself, sickened, but it wasn’t the worst part. The promise ring on the finger was Flashes. It was a little cold band, adorned with a little pink heart, and cute diamonds curling around the band itself. You had the same one on your ring finger.

You had to get the fuck out of there. You tell yourself, but your hand pauses just before you touch the door handle, which was covered in some sort of white shit. Spider webs? You tilt your head in question. Your phone. Where was your phone? You quickly make your way to your bed, tossing the sheets around in search of your phone, then the bathroom door opens. Peter stepped out, his hoodie off in place of a grey shirt you’ve seen him wear often, but it never had the dark stains on the front that it did now, and his presence immediately makes you back away from your bed, and to the other side of the room to create distance.

“I said it was a surprise.” He sighs, tossing his hoodie to the floor before reaching up and removing his shirt, leaving his chest naked. He was fucking built.

“You need to leave, Peter.” Your voice shakes, but it’s confident.

“Come on now, he was cheating on you. He deserved it.” His voice lowers as he stalks towards you, only stopping when your back hits a wall. You hear your phone buzz, and behind him you see the screen light up with a text from under your bed. You had dropped it earlier.

“Peter-”

“Shh…” He shushes you, pushing his lower body against you, still dressed in your pyjamas. “You deserve so much better than him.”

“Peter, leave. Now.” You whisper, your intent was to shout, but you can’t seem to with his proximity. It made you nervous.

“I just wanna touch you…” He tells you, one of his hands reaching to gently touch your waist.

“This is your last warning.” He chuckles, he thinks you’re joking. Fine. You tell yourself. I warned you. Your knee comes up, striking him in his stomach and he groans and curls over in pain as you rush over to your bed, your fingers an inch away before some sort of white string, the same on the handle of your door, shoots out and grabs your phone, looking back, it was now in his hand, the little white web connected to it.

“I tried to do this the easy way.” He squeezes your phone, and it crushes in his hands. “But I’m done waiting.” He growls, moving back towards you as you try to crawl away, but he grabs your ankles and yanks you back before reaching down and pulling you up by your hair. “You don’t want to behave? Fine.” He tosses you onto the bed, moving you and manhandling you with his strength as he moves you to take off your shorts and top, leaving you in your red lace set. “See how pretty you are? Fuck.” He groans a little before bending down, leaning to lick a place between your thighs.

“Peter!” You shout, attempting to back away, but his grip moves to tighten on your waist.

“Just stay still…” His voice shakes with urgency, “I need to have you, I can’t wait any fucking longer…” He groans, pulling you close and forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist before pushing his lips to yours, your hands instinctively pushing him away, but his hand just moves up, wrapping around your throat to keep you close, and you continue batting at him, but he seems locked onto you. “Stop fucking fighting me…” His voice shakes more, he’s desperate, you realise as he starts to hump you, your centre still covered by your thin lace panties, you hated to admit it, but it was turning you on. “Take these off…” He demands, but begins to do it himself, leaning back to hook his fingers through the lace of your panties before tugging them down your thighs, your hands swatting at him the entire time. “That's enough…” He growls, lifting you by your thighs as he throws you further back onto the bed, then he grabs your wrists and pins them against the bed frame.

“Fuck- Peter-!” Suddenly, your mouth is covered by more of the webbing as it shoots from a device on his wrist, then your wrists are also covered by the thick webbing, making it impossible to move your arms at all.

“Just stay still… We both need this.” You groan, the sound stifled by the webbing on your face. “You’ll love me when you feel how much better I am than him…” He reaches down and undoes his jeans, the sound of his zipper seeming to cloud your head before he slides the jeans down with his boxers, his cock springing free from it’s confinement, and he gives it a few strokes before inching closer to you, the sound behind the webbing on your face becoming more desperate. “God girl, staying so still…” He presses a kiss to your head as he lines his cock up with your pussy, seemingly admiring it as he strokes his dick. “Such a pretty pussy…” He whispers against your ear, then he slowly begins to slide his cock inside of you, not wasting any time in pumping in and out of you as he fills you perfectly. “Feels so good…” He groans, but it turns into a moan as you feel him already leaking inside of you. That was fast. You look him in the eyes as he pulls out faster than he’d gotten inside of you, his eyes meeting yours. “Fuck I’m sorry… You just feel so fucking good…” He groans, leaning down to press kisses to your throat and down your collar bone, and you’re frozen in fear, and in second hand embarrassment.

He reaches up, and tears the string off of your mouth, a whine coming from your lips as it painfully pulls on your skin, and you part your lips, short breaths leaving your throat as you sit with him between your legs, not sure what to do.

“I’m sorry baby I-”

“Get the fuck off of me…”

“Don’t talk to me like that…” He warns, pulling his pants back up with his boxers before reaching into his back pocket.

“I said get the fuck off of me Peter-” Your voice catches in your breath as he holds two little capsules in his hands, tearing one of the plastic things open with his teeth before attaching the needle to the bottle in his other hand.

Oh shit, oh shit.

“Won’t be such a smart mouth after this, will you?” He takes the lid off the needle with his teeth, then sticks it into the side of your neck, making you yelp, and of everything that’s happened today, that had to be the worst part.

 You fucking hated needles.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 5 - Know Who You Are

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: very internal chapter for Bucky. He’s having many thoughts. Enjoy!

Chapter Title from Lights Up by Harry Styles

Word Count: 12.9k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: Bucky does his job, and a little more. Contains usual tags.

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff

Chapter 4 - Chapter 6

Read on A03!

Bucky had never seen Her stop moving.

When She was at Her desk, she’d be typing at an almost impossible speed. If She was eating, her fork would tap on the rim of the container to the beat of whatever song she was listening to. When She spoke to most people, she’d rub her skin like she was trying to wipe something off it.

When he followed Her through the halls, she would always go faster than he’d expected to, and he’d never lost Her in a crowd, but he had started to follow Her a little closer than he needed to, just to reduce the risk. 

It wasn’t a real risk. That wasn’t the real reason. Outside of the damn trick with the garage She’d pulled on the first day, Bucky hadn’t lost Her once.

He wasn’t really sure why he’d started to follow Her so closely.

He was real lucky She hadn’t asked. If She did, She’d somehow find all the exact right words to push all his goddamn buttons and pop the real answer out of him regardless of him not being sure of it himself.

Bucky didn’t know how She did that. Look at the people in front of Her—across Her desk or standing prouder than they should be, when Bucky knew She was about to rip them apart with teeth aimed for their neck—and say all the right things to get exactly what She wanted.

He couldn’t tell if it was because of that thing behind Her eyes. If other people were seeing it just like he was, but simply didn’t have Bucky’s resolve or will to ignore it. How She was beautiful and sharp and spoke too fast for anyone to do anything but listen.

Because Bucky could ignore it. She could tell him to stop looming in the shadows and he’d ignore Her, because she wasn’t his boss, and the shadows were the best place for him to be.

Over the past two weeks, he had made the mistake of looking at Her a few times, after She’d asked him to do something. And that made him certain it was that thing in Her eyes, because he’d listen. He taken a step forward, just enough for some light to cast over his face, and then have to pretend nothing had happened at all.

He’d spent a lot of time staring at Her, when She wasn’t looking. Trying to work out what that thing was. What could possibly be giving Her the ability to speak so easily, when words were hard. What made Her so beautiful it made Bucky’s head spin.

It wasn’t artificial or a lie—He’d ruled that out with Her turning out not to be Hydra—but it wasn’t human, either.

It was Her, but She still seemed like more than a woman.

And Bucky couldn’t find a damn answer for why Her eyes were always deeper than they should be.

She wasn’t an alien. Sam would’ve noticed if that was the case. She wasn’t a robot either, because Bucky had heard Her vomit twice more in the past few weeks, and he was pretty sure robots didn’t do that.

She wasn’t an enhanced.

Bucky was pretty sure She wasn’t enhanced.

There had been no serums or accidents on Her file. Nobody hid that they were enhanced, except for the spider-kid. He’d never seen Her display enhanced characteristics, and two days ago he’d seen Her double-check her left from her right and then lie of the floor of Her office for two hours. 

“What are you doing.” He’d grunted from the couch, and She’d rolled her eyes, twisting to kick his shin.

“I’m thinking. Duh.”

He’d raised his brows, and his lips had fucking betrayed him. Twitching up in a smirk as She just lay there, flat on Her back with her eyes squeezed shut, lips pouting and nose wrinkled. 

“Duh.” He’d repeated, keeping his tone dry. “How did I not work that one out myself. My apologies for bothering you, sweetheart, didn’t know you were thinking.”

“It’s okay.” She’d shrugged. “I forgive you.”

“Oh, good. Wasn’t sure I coulda lived with myself.”

She’d only hummed, rolling Her head and looking at him. Right in the eyes. 

Bucky wasn’t supposed to look at Her. That was the most important rule of this. 

She never seemed to goddamn respect that, and Bucky had been having more and more trouble looking away.

“Can you please get me a pen?”

He’d frowned at Her. “You got legs. Get it yourself.”

“Yeah, but I’m down here.” She’d waved a hand over to Her desk, still holding Bucky’s gaze. “And the pen is there.”

Bucky had given Her a flat look. “I’m over here, too.”

She’d just shrugged, pushed up on Her palms, and grabbed the pen herself before flopping back down and spinning it between Her fingers.

Bucky still hadn’t looked away, and he’d tensed when it hit him that he hadn’t expected Her to push it. She never pushed it. She’d always ask once, and when Bucky said no, She’d just do it herself.

She’d been doing most everything herself. He’d seen it in all Her meetings, and during Her conversations with her co-workers, and whenever that assistant of Her’s would try to offer to do something for Her. She’d just do it herself. All the damn time, and that felt almost as dangerous to Bucky as how he’d still been damn staring at Her- 

“James.”

He’d grunted, and She hadn’t stopped calling him that. He hadn’t bothered correcting Her—it didn’t feel like something that would work in his favor— but it still kept scratching something at the base of his spine that he didn’t want to entertain. “What.”

“Do you speak Mandarin?”

Bucky had frowned at Her. “Why does that matter.”

“I have an email in Mandarin.” She’d shrugged. “I can’t read it.”

“Use Google.”

“I don’t trust Google.” 

“But you trust me?”

“If you speak Mandarin, yeah. Please?” She’d offered him a smile, and it had been sweet, but real. The thing in Her eyes had turned and glowed with it, and there hadn’t been any poison, and Bucky had translated the goddamn email for Her. Stomped over to Her desk and grunted that there was a company that wanted some funding to fight some human trafficking shit, then returned to the couch with a scowl. 

She’d whacked his leg when he passed Her, and fucking thanked him.

That had to be how She got everything she wanted. Just by being impossibly pretty on the floor and smiling. 

And there were four things at the top of his log now.

One, She was smart, and every single second, She seemed smarter. Bucky had stopped trying to work out exactly what She’d say, and why she’d say it, because he was never right. It was never something he expected, and half the time She didn’t  seem to keep up with Herself.

It was almost amusing, how She’d speak too fast, and with such certainty, only to skip whole thoughts and veer off track without ever noticing.

Two, the kind, likable, caring thing She had going wasn’t a show. She was loud and mean and crude, but She also smiled like it was the only option, and got coffee for Her assistant every morning, and when Bucky would pull out his thermos, She’d glare at him until he added the sugar and honey.

Three, She really never stopped moving. On the subway she’s still spin around and around until She stumbled and slammed into Bucky’s chest, every single time. As if She couldn’t stand to stop moving, even for a single damn second.

And that was how he’d worked out the last thing. 

She had no regard for her own personal safety or value. She’d fall every damn time, and She’d just do it again. Bucky had considers just letting Her crumble to the floor a few times, because She needed to learn.

But he still caught Her, every time.

And She’d always smile at him after like it was nothing, and then keep talking and moving without a single worry of how—if Bucky was worse at his job, had slower reflexes, and didn’t want to get punched by Sam—She could’ve crashed right into the seats.

She’d walk right into the road, as soon as there was a pedestrian sign, even if a car wasn’t slowing at the red light. Bucky had even seen Her raise her brows at the car, like She was daring it to hit Her. It was the same expression She’d use during one of Her long boring meetings, when some balding asshole would challenge Her, she’d sit a little taller in Her chair, and pull them apart with about ten careful words. 

She wasn’t an adrenaline junkie. Not like Steve had been, picking fights he couldn’t win, that Bucky had needed to save him from. She only seemed to pick fights She could win, but Bucky hadn’t worked out if that was simply because She knew the difference between a safe bet and a gamble, or because She didn’t think anything could hurt Her.

There was a chance She just didn’t care if she lost.

And Bucky was going to go out of his damn mind, because that made his job harder, and not in the way he’d expected it to be. 

It was babysitting. He’d been calling it that to piss off Sam, but goddamnit, when Bucky was actually doing the job instead of trying not to throttle Her, it was babysitting. Making sure She didn’t get hit by a car, keeping a careful eye on the people in Her meetings that seemed more interested in how She moved than what she was saying, walking Her to and from Her house and listening to Her talk about whatever the hell popped into Her head.

He liked it. 

Fuck him up and down, Bucky goddamn liked this job. As soon as he’d put those gummy sharks on Her desk, she really had forgiven him, and the job had become a job instead of a war. And he liked it. 

He was good at it. Sam could never know that Bucky had been wrong, because he was really damn good at this job. There had been no more Hydra threats, and She still hadn’t agreed to let Bucky install proper security in Her apartment, but She was far safer with him than without him. Every single suit in Her office would cast Bucky a weary look when they saw him, and he’d heard Her mutter to her assistant that none of the bald cunts had tried to hit on Her in a month. When She went on a tour or visit somewhere, everyone would remain a respectable distance from Her and Bucky as they walked. The subway was too loud, and there were too many people in a way that scratched on the base of his skull, but he’d managed to keep Her from falling ten times just this week, and it inflated something bright and warm in his chest.

He felt useful. This was more busying than anything he’d been doing since the Flag Smashers, and he never had too long to just sink into the anger and exhaustion of everything, because She never stopped moving so there was always something to do.

And that bright and warm thing was starting to become addicting, flaring and flashing whenever he’d catch Her, and help Her, and be goddamn helpful in a visible, provable way to someone who was important.

She was, tragically and undeniably, important. To Sam, and all the assholes who’d been with Stark, and everyone else who liked Her. 

Not to Bucky. He wasn’t immune to Her… whatever she was, but She wasn’t important to him. The job was important to him, and She was the job, and just because Bucky didn’t hate Her anymore—and She made him feel useful—didn’t mean She was important to him. 

Just because he felt a little more tethered to his own body when the bright and warm feeling was spurred in him—and just because She was the only person who ever spurred it—didn’t mean She was important to Bucky.

She never shut the hell up, but he hated it less than he had before. Her voice was nice to listen to, and Bucky had memorized Her speech pattern faster than he thought he would. She’d round odd vowels and draw out strange syllables, but it made Her every word sound purposeful, even when Bucky knew it wasn’t.

And She never made him talk. He was allowed to just listen and stare over Her head in a weak attempt not to look at Her, and whenever he had something to say he’d say it, and She’d laugh and keep talking.

She laughed a lot. Even more than Sam. There was always a casual amusement over Her beautiful face, and it made that thing in Her eyes dance and shine in a hypnotic way.

It was likely even there now, as She shifted on Her feet and tore at the playbill in Her hands. 

Bucky couldn’t be sure it was there, because he’d have to look to check and he couldn’t be allowed to do that right now, but it probably was. There was really no reason for it not to be, because She was humming to herself. That was a certain sign that She was finding something to be entertained by as they waited in this goddamn line. 

Technically, She was waiting in the line.

Bucky was stood off to the side, staring over Her head with carefully timed scans around the room.

This place had proper security, but it was also crowded and filled with rich people, and Bucky couldn’t let his guard down. That was this whole damn thing, guard Her and don’t think about anything else.

Not about how he was about to be stuck in a tight little space in the dark, watching a fucking play for three hours. Not about how loud it was, how there were so many people, and the base of his skull was scratching again. 

Certainly not about how She’d marched out of Her apartment in impractical heels and a long dress, and Bucky had made the mistake of looking right at Her.

She’d met his eyes. That thing had been right below the surface, and Bucky needed to come up with a codeword for it, just to put it somewhere tangible in his internal log. He couldn’t just keep calling it that thing, but he also couldn’t ask about it or he’d sound insane, and he was certain that he wasn’t.

For this, at the very least, Bucky knew he wasn’t just seeing things or losing his mind. Because She’d looked at him on the sidewalk with a small frown, and the sun had started to shift under the horizon so everything was golden, and that inhumanly beautiful shit had become impossible to ignore.

She was ethereal. Glowing. Bucky felt like he was looking at something he wasn’t supposed to, and his tongue had been numb in his mouth, and that thing in Her eyes had been shimmering as She scanned over him. 

He’d felt like he was being inspected. Bracing for Her to snap something about how he’d fucked up, even though he’d followed all the dumb orders, and She hadn’t seemed to be that thrilled about this whole situation either- 

It shouldn’t have loosened the iron around his lungs, when She’d given a small nod and looked down to Her purse.

“Nice sweater.”

“Thanks.” He’d grunted, forcing him gaze back over the top of Her head. Bucky couldn’t look at Her. It was distracting, and made heart do a little kick on his ribs, and sparked a craving for Her to look at him. He didn’t need Her approval. She was just loud and captivating and beautiful. Anyone would be in danger if they looked too long.

“Yep.” She’d hummed, looking back up with keys spinning on her finger. “C’mon.”

They’d driven here. She’d grumbled something about Happy and Sam being on Her ass, but Bucky had been relived. Getting on the Subway with Her looking like that might have made him go insane. She would’ve kept spinning and crashed into him again, and he would’ve had to steady Her back to her feet and touch Her bare skin, and look at Her, and that shouldn’t be his job but it was becoming it, and that was dangerous. 

This whole night was going to be dangerous. She’d only told him about it yesterday—something about a play She’d helped fund, gifting her tickets to a full performance as a thank you—and he hadn’t slept that night.

She’d said it would rude not to attend, but She’d said it with a sigh, like She was trying to convince herself.

If Bucky had been given more warning, maybe he would’ve been able to talk Her out of doing it. Or at least talk Sam out of making Bucky go, because talking Her out of anything seemed pointless. Bucky had watched Her somehow hustle herself into more money during a budget cut meeting last week. 

And he shouldn’t be here. This was more than babysitting or guarding. This hadn’t been on his responsibilities list, and She looked too pretty, and it was dangerous-

“Bucky.”

He blinked down at Her, and that had been a mistake. She’d gotten closer without him noticing, and now he could see that thing flashing and rolling, almost tugging him in further. 

Bucky had needed to clear this throat before he spoke. That was annoying. 

“What.”

“How many quick exits are in this building?”

“Three.” He grunted. This might be a test, and it didn’t matter if he passed, but he still couldn’t stop fucking looking at Her. “Why.”

She just shrugged, craning Her neck around the room like she was looking for something. “How about bathrooms?”

“How the hell would I know where all the bathrooms are.” Bucky snapped, crossing his arms. “I’m not a damn blueprint, kid-“

She gave him a flat look. “No, but you know. How many.”

Bucky scowled. He did know. When he hadn’t been able to sleep, he’d passed the time scanning over blueprints of the theatre, just to be prepared.

He didn’t like the dry faith in Her voice. Like there was no possible scenario where he didn’t know. It made him stand too-tall again, and there was the warmth, and goddamnit, She was smiling at him again-

“Eight.” He muttered, narrowing his eyes when Her smile grew. “Three men’s, three women’s, two gender-neutral.”

“Huh.” She tilted Her head at him, then gave a small nod. “Thank you.”

He frowned down at Her. The moment She looked away from him, She was wearing the tight expression that she usually had before a meeting she had labelled in orange on Her calendar.

She hadn’t explained all Her color-coding to Bucky when She’d showed him her calendar—something about him knowing what they were doing that day, for proper preparation—but it had been pretty easy to decode himself. Red meant it would be easy and quick. Green meant She was going to spend the whole time not paying attention. Blue was for personal things, purple was for when She didn’t want to be bothered, and orange signaled that whatever She was about to do, She didn’t want to do it at all.

Bucky didn’t know what this had been labelled as.

He had a pretty good guess.

“You don’t want to be here.” He grunted, and She blinked up at him with wide, pretty, doe eyes. 

It hit Bucky in the gut a lot, lately, how sometimes She’d look like a doe, then a bird, then only seconds later a lion or wolf or shark. Those same open, nervous eyes on his right now could narrow and sharpen in a second, and those parted lips could curl into a predatory sneer even faster.

He still wasn’t sure what She was. 

His working guess was something primal. Maybe She’d been in ice too, for thousands of years, from a time before Bucky could even imagine. Then they’d thawed Her out just to fuck with him. 

Because She shook her head, and it was a mesmerizing movement. A little softer and less controlled than Bucky usual saw Her, making the low light of the lobby shift so well over Her face, and he smirked. 

It was unspeakably satisfying, when he managed to get one of those reactions. She never showed them to anyone else, but She’d slip for Bucky, and that was almost as addicting as the flare up his spine. 

“Of course I want to be here,” She muttered, glancing around the room as if She was afraid someone would hear Her obvious lie.

She was truly a terrible liar. She would flush and speak slower, because She’d be thinking through Her words. Bucky had been able to spot it every damn time.

“Sure you do,” he drawled Her name, raising his brows. “What part of this are you lookin’ forward to, exactly?”

“The play.” She snapped, and Bucky felt his smirk grow. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking something.” She gave him a pointed look. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Bucky just shrugged, and tore his gaze to scan back over the crowd. He could feel Her glaring at him, see her shifting on Her feet in the corner of his vision, hear Her chewing on her lips, and three, two, one-

“Bucky.”

He hummed, keeping his gaze fixed over Her head, and she poked his arm.

“Bucky.”

“I heard you.” He grunted, forcing his face to remain set in a firm, neutral mask.

“You didn’t acknowledge me.” She muttered, and he just shrugged. 

“You need something, do-“ He cut himself off with a small cough, keeping his voice flat in the hope She wouldn’t notice his slip. “Kid?”

She let out a long breath. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

He raised his brows, still not looking at Her. He had to brace himself, before he just threw himself into the lava like that. “I thought you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Shut up.”

Bucky’s smirk grew, and it was only a beat before She was whacking his arm again. 

She kept hitting the metal arm, and it was never hard, but he was starting to get worried She’d bruise her knuckles.

“James.” She hissed, and Bucky could feel the heat of her body. The crowd had pushed them together, and suddenly he’d just have to dip his chin and he’d be looking at Her.

His hands drew into fists, but it wasn’t to shove Her away. Everyone was pushing around like idiots, and She had a bad center of gravity and sense of balance. She could fall, and the logically, quick thing to do would be grab Her and steady her now-

Bucky heard Her moving to whack his arm, and caught Her hand.

His gaze dropped to Her’s before he could stop himself. Her eyes were wide on his, and Her lips were swollen from being chewed, a little lipstick had been smeared and wiped from its place, and Bucky suddenly felt very warm.

The theatre was cold. He’d worn this damn sweater because She’d told him the theatre was cold, but now She was staring at him, and Bucky felt like he was on fire.

That couldn’t be good. 

“What.” He grunted, and his voice weirder than usual. Heavy. 

She better not mention it, or he’d stop speaking to Her all together, and the whole point had been to coax Her into admitted she wanted to hear what Bucky thought.

Buck knew She hated not knowing things. He’d worked that out a week ago, when She’d been talking to him about something, forgotten a word Bucky probably wouldn’t have known anyway, and then cut off the whole conversation to try and find it. He’d seen Her do the same thing on the rare occasion that she forgot something in a meeting, a few times when She’d been talking to her assistant and forgotten some weird fact, and once when she’d been in a meeting and forgotten a fact.

She’d chewed on Her lips until they were swollen then, too, and the moment the door had closed behind the suit, She’d started trying to work out what she’d forgotten.

She’d found out. On the list of annoying things about Her that Bucky was keeping, one of them seemed to be that she always seemed to know everything. She didn’t keep notes, going into Her meetings. She’d ask people their thoughts on something, and then smile to herself like that’s what She’d thought they’d say. Bucky had seen Her get her assistant the exact right lunch order without asking every time, and She was always finishing people’s sentences, and She’d been goddamn right about the sugar and honey thing in the oatmeal. 

Bucky would never tell Her she’d been right, but he didn’t have to. She’d always shoot him that goddamn sweet smile whenever he started to eat, and She knew.

Even now She was scanning over his face like his thoughts were on full display for Her to see. They weren’t. Bucky was very goddamn careful to work out that people never saw what he was feeling or thinking, because that gave them power over him, and he was real damn sick of people having power over him- 

“I have to be here,” She muttered, narrowing Her eyes on Bucky’s. “I’m here because I’m the face, Bucky, and I said I’d be here, so I’m here. We’re not leaving.”

Goddamnit. 

“Hard to see a face in the dark.” Bucky grunted, forcing himself to hold Her gaze and not feel it, because he wouldn’t break rank here. It was a theatre, in public, and he was not that pathetic. 

She didn’t seem to be backing down either. “People will notice if I leave.”

“Who gives a shit about people-“

“I do.” She snapped, and now Bucky could feel Her breath over his face. “Probably you too, Sargent, or else you were just in the army for the guns.”

Bucky felt something in him balk and stir at that. He had been there to fight for people, but that was dozens of body counts and seven decades of brainwashing ago. 

“I meant what people think,” he snapped. He had to hold ground. “You don’t look good, sweetheart, and I fucking know you don’t want to be here-“

The thing in Her eyes flashed. It was a little like a moon, catching and reflecting around inside Her body until Bucky could see something furious written over her face. 

“You don’t know shit, James-“

“Then look at me and say you’re thrilled to be here.” He said Her name with matched venom. She was really fucking close. “C’mon, kid, say it.”

Her tongue flicked out between Her lips, and the moon in Her eyes was starting to shift. 

“Maybe I don’t want to be here.” She snapped, raising Her chin, and Bucky recoiled slightly. He hadn’t expected Her to fold at all. “But I have to be, so it’s doesn’t matter if I spend have the time throwing up my fucking lunch, I’m staying.”

Bucky frowned at Her as she glowered, and he’d missed it. It would’ve been obvious in better lighting and without the makeup, but there was slight sweat clinging to Her brow and an uneven pattern to Her breath that signaled not well. He’d seen it on longer, odd days when She’d barely been speaking to anyone, and any other word had an extra edge like She trying to bite off a piece of something for substance. 

She wasn’t feeling well. It was probably that damn condition She wouldn’t tell Bucky about, that wasn’t anywhere on Her files. He should ask Sam later, because She’d said six people know, and Sam seemed far more qualified for that list than Bucky was, so it was a good place to start.

Bucky would need to know what the condition was, to guard Her better. It would make him better prepared, ensure he could ready himself for looking at Her for prolonged periods of time—another thing to add to the annoying list, She was still inhumanly beautiful when She looked to be caving in on Herself—and allow him to catch it before She did something stupid like this.

If She didn’t feel well, She shouldn’t be doing this shit. She wasn’t an enhanced, and the seats were nice but not that nice, and the longer Bucky looked the more he could see it, all over Her. A sunken look to Her features, where they were usually full of that painful look of life. Of movement. There were lines in Her brow that he’d never seen before, and a tension in Her shoulders that made Her slump—as if something was pushing Her down by force—and Bucky had fucked up. If She passed out during the damn play, he’d have to carry Her home to Her apartment, and She still wasn’t letting him in there, and it would be a whole fucking thing-

“You can go, you know.” She muttered. “I’m not going to call Sam and fucking snitch or something.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, drawing back up to look over Her head once more. “Nice try.”

 “They have security, Bucky.”

“Shit security.”

“I’m serious-“

“So am I.”

They’d reached the front of the line.

Bucky hadn’t realized he was still holding Her wrist until it was being tugged away.

And he was staying because it was his damn job. Because She might not want Bucky carrying Her home—should it come to that—but She’d hate a random stranger even more. 

A stranger that might be Hydra. That might touch Her and take her away, and Bucky would’ve failed the simplest mission of his damn life.

He had to stay. Even if the theatre was just cold as She’d claimed, when they found her seat in a high, dark, isolated box. Even as the show started, and the damn drums seemed to be drilling themselves into Bucky’s chest, and these assholes could act but the mechanical aspects seemed sloppy, and She kept leaning back to fucking look at him.

Bucky had no damn clue why She kept doing that. He wasn’t a part of the show. If anything, he was a horrible piece of decoration. He was standing in the shadows with his arms crossed, and the few other suits who’d been given tickets kept shooting him weary glances, but She knew he was there. She didn’t need to check, and look at him, and make him look at Her. It was distracting. It made him hot again, and Bucky needed to focus on monitoring the theatre, but he kept looking at Her to see if she was looking at him.

He also needed to look at Her to check how bad that condition was getting to Her. If he started to hear Her heartbeat, he’d carry Her home kicking and screaming. She shouldn’t be in this loud, dark, crowded area while She was in pain, and he could see Her knee bouncing as she looked at the show, and maybe he should go and check if Her eyes were glazed-

She got up without warning. All but stormed past him to the bathroom, and Bucky only bothered to grab Her bag before he was following Her.

“Left.” He grunted when She stopped at the end of the hallway, and She whipped around with wide eyes.

“Jesus, Bucky-“

“Bathroom’s to the left.” He repeated, crossing his arms, and She shook Her head slightly.

“I-“ She choked on something, grimacing as She pressed a hand to her brow.

Her skin was flushed enough for Bucky to see under the makeup. 

“Go,” he snapped Her name, taking a firm step forward that She flinched from.

She’d never done that before, and it made his skin fucking itch.

“C’mon kid,” Bucky tried again, making his voice as soft as he could manage. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe the tensed expression was She was looking at him was the condition, and not just Bucky. “Get to the bathroom-“

“Can’t-“ She was almost spitting the words, every sound more strained than the last, and Bucky frowned.

“Take your right-“

“I don’t- fuck-“ Her hand moved over Her stomach, and this time when Bucky moved for Her, she just crumbled.

He herded Her into the women’s bathroom. Everyone was watching the show anyway, and this didn’t seem like a state anyone should be abandoned in. It reminded him too much of a feral animal, how She collapsed over the toilet and curled into Her own body, scratching at Her own skin until it was over

Bucky felt like he should be doing more. He was just damn standing here, and Her hair was falling over her face, and maybe he could-

“I-“ She coughed, twisting to glare at Bucky over Her shoulder. “I can’t tell my left from my right, Bucky.”

He frowned at Her. “What?”

“You said go left.” She muttered, slumping back on the stall, holding his glare. “I don’t know which fucking way that is.”

“It’s- It’s just left.” This was an odd joke, even for Her. Left was left. “That way.”

She didn’t even damn look where he was pointing. “I just- I don’t know it, okay? And- Fuck-“

Bucky tossed her bag at her feet as She started fumbling around, and She looked up at him with a weary expression.

“Thanks.”

He only grunted. “You look shit.”

She didn’t. She still looked like a sunset, just a little washed out. Like one of those watercolor paintings Sam had made him do for therapy.

That wasn’t the point.

“Shut up.” She muttered, pulling out Her phone before looking up at Bucky with a small frown. “Can you wait outside, please?”

“No. We need to talk-“

“We’ll talk after-“

“We can talk right damn now-“

“I’m taking off my bra, Bucky.” She gave him a pointed look, and there was the heat again. 

He would have to go outside. Reasonably, She’d be fine, and there was no way Bucky could just turn around and tell Her he wasn’t looking without getting hit with a wadded-up ball of toilet paper. There was only one entrance in and out of the room, and when Bucky shuffled outside, he’d be blocking it. 

He didn’t like this. She was in there, alone, and if someone dropped through a vent, She might not have enough energy to scream properly. Her passing out also seemed to be a very real option on the table, and She certainly wouldn’t call for Bucky if that happened. But he couldn’t go back in there. He’d crossed the privacy line once already, and She might not appreciate that he’d be crossing it again for Her safety.

And She was taking off Her bra.

That meant that things would be exposed. Things that Bucky wasn’t allowed to see. Her things.

He was a grown ass man. He could say tits. He couldn’t think about them, not in insolation, but he couldn’t about them on Her as a part of the guarding Her. It was cold in the building, and Bucky didn’t know how exposed tits could contribute to hypothermia, but he was pretty sure She’d be fine. But he also didn’t know Her condition, and if it raised Her risk factors for things like that, and Sam would fucking kill him if Bucky showed up at his office and said She’d died from frozen tits-

His hands were in fists again. Clenched at his side as he glowered at the door, and this wasn’t his job. He was protecting Her from Hydra, not the temperatures of old buildings and sicknesses. He was better at this than he’d thought he’d be, and it might be the easiest thing he’d done to get better since She’d stopped acting like he was Satan, and the idea of Her fully collapsed over the bowl of the toilet with no one to help might yank at the base of his skull, but that wasn’t Bucky’s job. Or problem.

She wasn’t his problem, outside of keeping Her and Hydra incredibly separated. 

He had to work on remembering that. 

His name was James Buchanan Barnes. The floor was carpeted, and the clock on the wall was wrong. He liked that She hadn’t yelled at him once tonight, because he wasn’t counting their smaller fight in the lobby, and it made everything easier when She wasn’t angry enough to yell. He didn’t like that She was still in the bathroom. It couldn’t take that damn long to take off a bra, and the longer the seconds ticked by on that damn clock, the more an iron started to weigh on Bucky’s chest. He needed to make sure She hadn’t gotten herself damn killed in the bathroom somehow, in the five fucking minutes they’d been separated. He wanted to push back into the room, snap that She needed to communicate better because radio silence was going to get Her kidnapped and give Bucky an aneurysm-

The bathroom door pushed open.

She still looked like an impossibly beautiful car crash, walking out of the bathroom in long steps, fixing Her hair as she moved.

Maybe not a car crash. That was entrapping, but hideous from every angle.

More like the jungle. A lot of life, flushed back into Her face when Bucky caught her narrowed gaze, and hiding something in every corner that was always hard to find if you didn’t know where to look. 

Bucky knew. It was his job to know, so he could see in the way Her hands were shaking slightly, and Her eyes were slightly glazed on his that She needed to lie the hell down, somewhere dark and quiet. That was what sick people did, when they were rubbing their temple and wincing at the flickering of the hallway lights. They went peaceful places, where nothing could bother them, and She was letting out a slow breath and turning away, walking back down the hall.

Right past the stairwell. 

Shit.

Bucky hissed Her name, catching up with Her in half a second and she just kept damn walking. Marching. 

She never walked, She marched. Like wherever She was going was the most important place in the world.

That wasn’t the damn point.

“Where are you going.” He grabbed Her wrist, and she didn’t even stumble. 

“Back.” Her voice was flat. Too flat. No humor or taunting joy in it. Just flat, and Bucky could feel his gut wind tight and heavy at the sound. 

It was the warning feeling.

Something was wrong.

“You are not going back in there.” He grunted, and She scoffed.

“Yeah, I am.”

“You’re sick,” Bucky said Her name with his calmest, firmest voice. This couldn’t be a debate. If She went back in there, he’d spend the whole time staring at Her and trying to work out what the gut wrench was about. It wouldn’t be safe, and there was no damn reason for Her to torture herself like this. It wasn’t helping a single fucking thing. “Go home.”

Her jaw clenched, and She shook her head. “I have to stay-“

He narrowed his eyes. “Why.”

“It’s my job, asshole-“

“And my job,” Bucky snapped, and he was a little surprised that bait had worked so well. He couldn’t let it show. “Is to make sure you don’t fucking die.”

She rolled Her eyes, and the moon was almost simmering inside of them. “I’m not going to die, you dramatic old fuck-“

“You just threw up all the food and fluids in your body,” he grunted. “If you pass out, I am not carrying you home.”

That was a lie. She didn’t have to know that. But based on the ways She scanned over him, raised her chin, and braced her body, she’d worked it out Herself. 

Bucky really needed to learn how She did that. 

“I’m not going to pass out, James, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

He just shrugged, and held his goddamn ground. “You might.”

“I won’t.”

“You could, sweetheart. I’m not a doctor, but no food makes people pass out.”

She scowled, and Bucky realized She was gripping his wrist right back. “If I pass out, I’ll wake up. I have to be here-“

“No, you don’t.” Bucky grunted, tugging his own grip slightly. “You showed your face, people saw, go home and rest.”

She was chewing on Her lips again. Never breaking Bucky’s gaze, and squeezing his wrist so tight that—if it wasn’t the metal one—he’d be worried about bruising. Her breathing was heavier than normal, but it had increased since She left the bathroom. Either She was about to throw up again—that wouldn’t be good, but it would give Bucky an excuse to carry Her out of the building—or there was something else he was missing, related to the way Her free hand seemed to be restlessly grabbing at the air- 

“I’m not going home.” She muttered, and the flatness had returned. Any white-hot fury Bucky had drawn out of Her was gone. His gut was heavy again. “I’m out of groceries.”

Bucky raised his brows. He could fix that. That was something he could do. “Well then, do- Kid, Sam showed me this thing called DoorDash-“

“I- No.” She tugged Her wrist back from Bucky’s grip, and he let go without a second thought.

He didn’t know what he’d do if She ran. Probably catch up, then fight again. At least then, maybe, he’d be able to drag some life back into Her voice.

Because this was weird. Wrong. He’d heard Her tired and annoyed, but there had always been an underlying sense of energy. Infuriatingly unwavering resolve and energy. Even when She’d been on the floor of the bathroom, or She’d deflated in Her office, there had been the shake of Her body. 

This was just a shell. A hollow, empty husk that kept moving Bucky’s gut, and he’d be sick if it kept up. 

“I’m not going home.” She muttered, tugging at Her hair, and Bucky frowned.

She was holding his gaze, but She really did look so damn hollow. She was leaning backwards. Ready to go back to that small, dark fucking box, where Bucky would have to just stand in the cold, and She’d just be sitting alone in the shadows-

Damn it. 

“You don’t want to go home.” He grunted, and She stood a little taller, leaning further back. 

“I-“

Bucky reached out, and caught Her before she just start moving again. “C’mon. We’re going.”

She swallowed, but didn’t yank out of his grip. “I have to-“

“You’re the CEO,” he said Her name, holding Her gaze. He’d have to make sure that didn’t become a habit. “The boss. You don’t have to do shit. We’re going.”

“Bucky-“ She sighed, shaking Her head almost frantically. “I- I’m not fucking going home-“

“I didn’t say you were going home.” He snapped. “I said we’re going.”

She paused, and Bucky didn’t miss the way a little spark returned to her eyes. Barely a kindle. More than before. 

He’d take it. 

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?” Her voice was dry, but not withered. Bucky’s gut unraveled slightly. “Are you finally going to kill me?”

He rolled his eyes, and started pulling Her down the hall. She didn’t fight him. “I was never going to kill you.”

“Yeah, but you’ve thought about it-“

“I’ve thought about a lot of things.” He muttered, glowering at the hallway when the image of Her tits in the bathroom, cold and hanging out of this impractical dress, flashed in his head. “I’m not killing you.”

She hummed, and when Bucky glanced over his shoulder, She was watching him. The moon was bright in Her eyes, and Bucky wasn’t sure where that glow was coming from, but he did know that he really had to stop damn looking at Her. The heat and light was building up his spine, and it couldn’t be healthy. 

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

Bucky grunted, forcing his gaze back ahead. If he slammed into a wall, She’d never shut up about it. “Out.”

She snorted. “I worked that one out myself, genius-“

“We’re getting you food. And water.”

“Aw,” She bumped Bucky’s shoulder, and he had to get better at tracking her proximity. He didn’t know how She was so good at slipping past it, but it was dangerous. “You’re not gonna kill me, you’re gonna feed me-“

“I don’t want you passing out.” He muttered, keeping his gaze fixed ahead. “I told you, kid, I won’t carry you-“

“Yeah, you would.”

That got him to look at Her, and She was grinning up at him, and it was all teeth and lips but there was nothing vile behind it. Every one of Her features had returned to a mockingly natural, comfortable ease, and there was still the moon rolling her eyes, but She was… relaxed. 

Next to Bucky.

That didn’t make any damn sense.

“What makes you so sure. I might just leave you on the floor,” He grunted Her name, and She shrugged.

“No, you’d carry me, then yell at me, then use it as a reason to not let me go to these events anymore.” She dropped Her voice suddenly, Her smile only growing. “Look, kid, passing out makes you vulnerable to Hydra. Doing it in public is dangerous. You’re staying in your office.”

Bucky scowled. “I do not sound like that.”

“Yes, you do-“

“No, I-“ He let out a long breath. Sam said to pick his fights. This wasn’t one worth having, especially because it was the exact type of fight She’d win. “Shut up. What are you eating."

“Right now, nothing-“

Bucky grunted Her name, and She laughed.

Something slammed into his body. He’d seen Her smile, and heard Her snort and giggle to Herself—the way where everything seemed to be one massive joke that only She was in on—but She’d never laughed before. Not where Bucky could hear it. Not where he was still touching Her and looking at Her, and all the life had returned to Her face like a flood, and that could be a problem. There was something clean rushing through Bucky’s nerves, deeper and stronger than the electricity up his spine, and it was addictive. He only realized they were outside because Her hair was starting to tangle from the wind. He’d still been warm, his gaze trapped on Her’s as She kept grinning at him. 

For a very long second, standing on the sidewalk, he wasn’t sure where he was. He only knew that She was still grinning at him, and it felt impossibly important to make Her laugh again. Even if it was at him, the sound had made the tension in his gut vanish, and She’d let him pull her out of the theatre, and goddamnit he was somewhere dark, but all he was really noticing was how the headlights of passing cars were moving over her face-

Cars. They were outside. On the sidewalk.

He needed to get his shit together. 

“Have you ever been to a 24-hour diner?” She asked, and Bucky blinked at Her.

Food. They’d been talk about food, before he’d lost his damn mind. 

“I’m not a fucking fossil, you know.” He muttered Her name, and it was really sounding like a name, now. He’d been saying it too much, and it was too easy to say, and it really was Her.

She was still goddamn grinning at him. “That’s not an answer, Bucky-“

He rolled his eyes. “I have. I didn’t like it.”

“Why?”

Bucky frowned at Her. It sounded like a real question, and She didn’t ever ask him things She didn’t want to know, but that really didn’t seem like it mattered. 

“Food was shit.” He grunted. “Tasted like ash.”

She hummed, tilting her head at him with an almost open expression. “What did you get?”

“Lobster.”

“That’s why it tasted like shit.” She shrugged, tugging on Bucky’s arm, and he moved without thought. “Diner lobster is fucking horrible, Sam shouldn’t have let you eat it. I won’t.”

Bucky frowned down at Her again. He had to give up on not looking at Her, just for the night. It wouldn’t be safe to not look at Her.

Just for the night.

“You won’t what?” 

“Let you eat lobster.” She said, as if it was simple. Obvious. “We’re expanding your horizon, Sargent. Haul ass.”

Bucky was starting to understand how She always got what she wanted. It might be the exact same reason She’d said relax, and he had. Following Her was frighteningly easy, being near Her was easier, and the fact that She never shut up was becoming more like a call to motion than something to endure.

“What did you think of the play?” She asked as they walked down the sidewalk, and Bucky shrugged.

“Fine.”

She rolled Her eyes. “What a stunning endorsement-“

“I wasn’t watching it.” He’d been watching Her. She didn’t need to know that. “What I saw seemed fine. I don’t know what the hell else you want me to say.”

She just shrugged, folding Her arms over her chest. 

She looked cold. Bucky could see the goosebumps on Her skin.

That wasn’t his problem. 

“I liked the costumes.” She said, frowning into the air, and Bucky was never sure if these conversations were ones he had to pay attention to. 

He would anyway.

“They looked well made. Deliberate. A lot of time the costume department can be under too much pressure, and it’ll show through, but this one was good. The acting was alright, but I couldn’t really tell from our shit-ass seats. Couldn’t really see the set either, but the lighting seemed okay, which is good because we funded those LEDs, but we also funded the speakers, and they crackled at few times-“

“You fund the microphones?” Bucky asked before he could stop himself, and She frowned at him. 

“I don’t think so. Why’d you-”

“Speakers were fine.” He muttered. “Never peaked with the orchestra. Only when the actors were talking. It’s their head-mics.”

She blinked. “Huh. You into theatre, Bucky?”

“No.”

“Then how’d you-“

“I like engineering.” Bucky wasn’t sure why they were having this conversation. Why Her expression was so open, like She actually cared to hear about this. “Took a course on sound tech.”

“A course?”

He shot Her a glare. “College course.”

She only hummed, glancing back around the shops, and dropped it. Bucky didn’t know what the hell had just happened, or how it was going to come back to bite him the ass, but She’d been walking through the night like She knew exactly where she was going, and it was suddenly very obvious that She’d just been fucking wandering when he saw Her speed up at the sight of somewhere open.

She was still wearing Her dress and heels, and Her makeup and hair were still a mess, but when the hostess started at Her, she didn’t even blink. They got a booth away from the windows—good, nobody could see them if they passed by the diner—and Bucky had barely opened the menu before he felt Her eyes on his once more.

“How many college courses have you taken?”

He glanced up at Her, and she still look like She damn cared. Bucky really needed to work out how to properly ignore Her, later, while he was also working out how to not ever look at Her. 

Not tonight. It was already long and confusing enough on its own.

“Seven.”

“Why?” She looked real damn innocent. Curious Bucky wasn’t sure was happening.

“Never went, before the war. Wanted to catch up on more of what I missed.”

“That’s cool.” She looked down to Her menu, and Bucky watched Her wearily. 

She’d make fun of him. That was what She did, was turn everything into a joke, and Bucky was already pulling up the words to defend himself before She even got to take a shot.

“I didn’t get the damn chance to go,” he grunted, glowering at Her across the table, and She just met his gaze with the bored, amused expression he was used to.

“Yeah, I’d imagine it’s hard to, during wartime.”

Bucky frowned. “I didn’t have money, either.”

“That’ll do it, too.” She hummed. “It’s what got me.”

“Got-“ Bucky cut himself off with a shake of his head. He must have heard Her wrong, or missed some part of the conversation. There was no way what She was saying fit into his log. “Where’d you go to college?”

She sighed, watching Bucky carefully as she spoke. “I didn’t.”

“You run a Stark company.” He said, sounding a little like a damn idiot, and She shrugged.

“Yep.”

“How-“

“Do you really want to know?” She asked, giving Bucky a pointed expression he didn’t appreciate. 

“I fucking asked, sweetheart.” He grunted, leaning back in the booth. “How.”

She let out a long breath through Her teeth. “I- It’s a long story.”

“And I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky raised his brows, and she swallowed.

“I- I used to- During the blip, I was seeing this…” She trailed off, frowning at Bucky, and he’d never heard Her talk this slow. It was different than the lie slowness. It was deliberate and uncertain, something guarded and spiked all over Her features, all entirely cautious of Bucky. 

Of his reaction. 

He held Her gaze, raising his brows in a silent prompt, and it—somehow—worked.

“I was seeing this guy.” She muttered, Her words quickly started to pick up. “He ran in Stark’s crowd. Rich guys jerking each other off for knowing Iron Man, when I’m pretty sure Tony hated all their guts. No, actually- I know he hated all their guts. Happy told me I was the first person at all those parties that Tony liked.”

Bucky could see that. He’d only met Stark once, really, and it hadn’t gone well, but he’d still seen the asshole up close. They spoke in a similar ways, had a similar gate to their walk, and the same air of unnatural authority.

The biggest difference between them seemed to be that everyone liked Her, and Bucky could look at Her and understand what he was seeing.

“But I- I wasn’t feeling well, at the party.” She chewed on Her lips, Her leg bouncing under the table, and the paper napkin was stared to be shredded under Her fingers. “It was weird, I didn’t know anyone, and the guy I was with wouldn’t talk to me, so I told him I was going to the bathroom and then I snuck out onto a balcony. Stark appeared like, five minutes later, and he didn’t recognize me, so I told him I was someone’s date. He knew the guy I was with, and he noted that it was…” She paused, frowning at the air. “Odd. For us to be together. Then I told him that I didn’t fucking ask for his opinion, and he told me he wasn’t judging, because he hadn’t exactly been making good life choices either, lately. We talked for a while, and then he asked me what I did for a living, I told him I was technically unemployed, and he said his old Stark Foundation CEO got killed in the blip, and he liked me, so the job was mine if I wanted it.”

Bucky frowned at Her. There were gaps through that whole story that he didn’t really have to right to pick at, but She also had only given him more questions. 

“He just… Gave you a job.” Bucky repeated, scanning over Her open, tired features, and She nodded.

“Technically he forced me into a job.” She gathered all the little shred of paper in front of Her, and started to arrange them in a pattern Bucky couldn’t follow. “I said no, he asked me why I was really there, and when I told him, he said that if I didn’t take his job offer, he’d hold it for me until the foundation either went under or I accepted it.”

“Why were you really there?”

She looked up at him, and Bucky felt a little wired. That moon was waxing and bending in Her eyes, he couldn’t look away, and it was like tunnel vision. Like She was slowing everything in the universe, narrowing it all down to the sight of Her, with smudged makeup and glowing features, in this diner, looking at Bucky. 

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like how he could see something equally raw in Her expression, and how he wanted to touch it and sooth it. How Her lips were slightly tinged purple, and it was real damn cold, but She wasn’t complaining or whining. Just fucking watching Bucky.

“I had to be.” She said, and before Bucky could—against all reason—push Her further, the waitress came and took their order.

They both got burgers. She ordered first, and then Bucky froze up the moment the waitress looked at him, and She said that he’d be having what She was having. 

Before he could snap at Her about that, the waitress was gone, and She was talking again. 

“And it’s a good job. Insane pay, good benefits, important work. I mean, I’m not saving the world,” She gestures loosely to Bucky, and he frowned. “But I’m helping people.”

“That why you work so much?” Bucky kept asking questions before he could think them through. He didn’t have a good defense for it. She’d just be there, and he’d never seen anything like whatever animal She was, and nothing in his log was fitting together so he had to know more. 

And She was in this strange, soft mood where She hadn’t called Bucky an idiot or asshole in an hour, so he might as well take advantage of it.

“I work a lot because I like it.” She muttered, Her attention dropping back to the paper on the table, and the weight in Bucky’s gut returned. He’d immediately fucked it. Of course he had.

“What, uh-“ He swallowed, fighting his body’s idea to lean forward until She had to look at him. “What about it. Do you like.”

“It’s an important job.” Her answer was fast. Half-mechanical, with clipped words instead of loud, frantic ones. Rehearsed. “Pays well.”

Bucky raised his brows. “You already said it pays well.”

She glanced up at him with a small frown. “I- Uh-“

“If you hate it,” Bucky drawled, holding Her gaze. “Just fucking say it, sweetheart.”

His aim was to challenge it out of Her. Or it could crash and burn, and he’d get fired again.

Her eyes flared, She sat a little taller, and Bucky had gotten the first option. 

The better one. 

That thought slipped through his head in half second, and She was already talking before he could grab it and squash it.

“It makes me feel useful.” She snapped. “And I’m good at it. I fucking amazing at it, James, and I like doing it, so you can shove that right up your ass. I like using all of Tony’s blood money to make stupid plays and distribute vaccines, and I like making all the dinosaur board member have to back me up all the time because they hate me, but they haven’t ever had all the good press they get with me at the head, and I’ve done more in six years than any of the other dickbags did in decades. Plus, they can pay me less, so they’d be insane to fire me.”

She took a heavy breath, and Bucky frowned at Her. “They pay you less?”

“I don’t care about the money,” She muttered, flushing slightly. “And you can tell me to shut up, by the way.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “What?”

“I know I talk a lot.” Her knee was starting to move the table. “You technically don’t have to be doing this, with me, so if you ever want me to shut up, just tell me.”

“I asked you the question.” Bucky said, not bothering to hide the confusion in his voice. It felt like the night was past that. “You answered it. Far as I remember, that’s how conversations usually go.”

Her lips were swollen, and now She wouldn’t look at him. It was worse. Bucky’s head kept turning back to Her laugh on the sidewalk, and he wanted to hear it again. Just to check that it had been real. To ensure that She hadn’t driven him so mad that he was hearing things, and She’d really laughed. 

“You didn’t like the box seats.” 

She blinked up at him. “What?”

“You said you hated the seats, in the theatre.” Bucky was going to bash his own head it. This was a terrible conversation starter, and She was already frowning again, so he had lost his mind because there was no way in hell She’d laugh for Bucky when she was staring at him like that-

“I- When did I say that?”

“On the sidewalk,” he grunted. “When you were talking about the set.”

“Oh.” She pulled her lower lip between Her teeth, Her tongue poked out for half a second, and Bucky felt hot again. “I don’t remember that.”

He shrugged. “I’m not the one who said it-“

:I believe you.” She cut him off with a shrug. “That does sound like me, I just don’t- I say a lot of things. I don’t expect you to remember any of them.”

“You’re loud, do-“ He needed to stop doing that. Soon he’d slip up and call Her doll again, and this taut ease that they were settling into would snap. “Kid. It’s hard not to hear you, and you said it twenty minutes ago.”

“I don’t know.” She gave him a small grin. “You could have dementia.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, and before he could spar back, She was turning away, giving the waitress a sweet, impossibly soft smile as their food was derived. It was even better than the smile She’d given him on the floor of Her office. Bucky wanted to see it again. 

“It was the box seats.” She mumbled, poking at Her food with a fry, and Bucky grunted for Her to continue. “I never like the box seats. They’re a relic from the 19th century, and classist symbol, and they’re not even good seats. I feel fucking weird in them, and nobody should go to the theatre to feel all high and important, they should do it to watch the fucking show.”

Bucky scanned over Her face, drawn in concentration as She ate, and rolled with the first question that popper into his head. “You like the theatre?”

She nodded. “I like art.”

There was a pause, and Bucky allowed himself to stare at Her until she met his gaze. It was an intimidation tactic. He had to. 

“What?”

“You just said art.” He kept his voice dry. Neutral. It didn’t matter if She wouldn’t talk to him. He wanted to learn things about Her for his log, and that was it. If She fell back into cold silence, Bucky would be able to handle it. “That’s not really informative.”

She gave him an odd look, and Bucky couldn’t work out of it was annoyance or caution. “I like a lot of art.”

He raised his brows, and She let out a long sigh. 

“I just- I like it. I think it’s fun, and cool, and the epitome of humanity, to make things that don’t make sense otherwise.” She frowned back down to Her burger. “It’s not- It’s a whole rant, you don’t want hear it-“

“I asked.” Bucky said, pushing forward before She could argue. “If I want you to shut up, I’ll tell you d- sweetheart. Trust me.”

She leaned back slightly, Her words slow again. Cautious slow. “If you let me start about it, I will go until you stop me.”

“You’re talkin’ a lot of talk.” He shrugged. “Right now it seems like you’re dodging my question.”

The challenge strategy seemed to work best. She sat up in Her seat, narrowed her eyes at Bucky and pulled her cheek into Her teeth, giving him half a second of a last chance before She started.

He didn’t take it.

And She was gone.

“I like art because it’s human, James.” She kept Her hands on the shredded papers as she spoke, and Bucky gave up on following whatever pattern she’d set for herself. “And I think people are cool. We are a funky, stupid, silly species, and we do insane things like try to conquer space, and I think that’s cool. And art is just saying that’s cool in a million fucked up ways, and I love it. I love paintings and sculptures because someone made that, and I love music because I’m not insane, and I love dancing because I love music and I have a fucking body, and I love- Fuck, I love stories. There the most human thing in the world, no other earthly species does that, and I love movies, and books, and TV- Did they have TV before you got solidernapped?” She tilted Her head at him, but Bucky didn’t bother to answer. 

She was just moving too fast, and he knew that in a second-

“No, you did because of that World Fair speech, but most people didn’t buy TVs until after the war. You had radio more, right? Radio plays? Did you ever listen to a radio play?”

Bucky paused, checking that this was a genuine question, then nodded. “I listened to a few. Steve liked them.”

She hummed, and Bucky braced for a question about Steve. She already knew Sam, but Sam had only known Steve after. Nobody else alive had known him when he was just Stevie, the smart, artsy kid that ran out of breath running a block.

“Did you listen to the War on the Worlds?” She asked, and Bucky blinked at Her.

“I- Was that- It was the Orson Wells one.” He frowned, because that had been when he was barely twenty. “Steve liked it. Made me listen to it twice after-“

“All that fake panic shit.” Her eyes were wide on his. “That’s- Shit, Bucky, that’s cool.”

He frowned, the hot feeling over his skin spreading, and She was looking at Bucky the same way She looked at her computer, or Her assistant when the girl was talking, or the air when she was thinking. Like it was to only thing in the world that could be worth Her attention.

His spine was flaring again, and he knew, logically, this wasn’t some sort of trap, but goddamnit nobody should be that beautiful and infuriating, and look at him like that.

And She was waiting for him to speak. Her leg was bouncing, and She was chewing her lip until it was almost bloody, but She waiting for Bucky.

His words were too slow. They were hard to remember. Bucky’s head kept moving away from him and imagining ways to force Her to stop chewing her lip.

“Uh, I- Is it?” He sounded like a fucking idiot. He needed to get a grip. “Doesn’t seem that cool. It was just a radio show-“

“It caused national panic.” She shrugged. “I mean, it was an exaggerated national panic, but that’s still sociologically interesting, And it was Orson Wells, and he’s a historical dude. Citizen Kane, that Rita Hayworth movie. Other examples.”

She giggled to Herself, from Her own shitty joke, and Bucky needed Her to laugh again. Now. 

“Why are you watching Citizen Kane.” He gave Her a pointed look. “That movie’s as old as I am-“

“You’re older.” She shot him a small grin, drawing one knee up to Her chest as She spoke. “And I’ve only seen it once. I prefer TV and books. They’re better for long term storytelling, and fuck- You know Arrested Development?”

“No-“

“It’s a TV show,” She said, and She was still fucking looking at Bucky. “You’d like it.”

Bucky snorted. “I don’t like most of the shit the future’s got going on, sweetheart. Sam’s already tried putting me on a lot of things, and he’s had no luck-“

“Sam has terrible taste in everything.” She dismissed Bucky with a wave of her hand. “You’ll like Arrested Development.”

Bucky had no reason to believe Her. She knew him far less than Sam did, and Sam had failed to find a single damn thing for Bucky to enjoy half as much as he’d enjoyed things from the 40s. The birdbrain had even found some list of things inspired by 40s movies and music, and it had all been a dead end. 

Bucky was pretty sure the part of his that enjoyed useless things had died when he fell off the train. He did cookouts with Sam because those were people he liked, and—according to some very annoying therapists—Bucky needed social interactions with people he liked to live. He’d only been listening to music because there was always some playing near Her—as if She was a damn walking radio—and he didn’t watch TV because none of it was interesting to him.

But She kept throwing suggestions at him, along with long descriptions that were likely more entertaining than the actual shows and books, and Bucky realized he’d stopped pretending to listen, and was actually adding Her offerings to a new internal log. People had been animating a lot in the past decades, apparently, and She thought every single thing, from a strange sounding shows about a sad horse or a family that made burger, was so fucking good, and Bucky should watch it. It was the same review She gave every movie, and book, and show, and-

“I am not watching a musical,” Bucky cut Her off with a grunt of her name, and She rolled her eyes.

“You’d like it.”

“I don’t like musicals.”

“You’d like this one,” She shrugged. “It’s stupid, there’s a girl whose mom fucked so much that she doesn’t know who her dad is, and now they’re all on an island in Greece trying to figure it out.”

Bucky frowned. “You said it was called Mamma Mia, that’s-“

“It’s Italian. And they’re in Greece, and the characters are American, and the songs are Swedish.” She paused, frowning at the air. “Actually, one of the dads is British. You should watch it.”

“I think I’ll pass on that one,” Bucky drawled, and he didn’t flinch when the fry hit him in the face.

It was the third time She’d done that. And the first time She’d looked dangerously close to apologizing—Bucky didn’t know how he’d handle that, not when it was real—so he’d eaten the fry, and She’d giggled, and he was going fucking insane.

“You’re no fun.” She was half pouting, but the moon in Her eyes was making her glow from within, and Bucky should’ve just let her keep vomiting in the theatre. He’d backed himself into a dangerous position, where She kept smiling, and he wanted to see it over and over again. “You’d like it, Bucky, it’s stupid-“

He couldn’t fight the slight smirk on his lips. “You callin’ me stupid?”

“If you don’t listen to me, yeah-“

“So you are.” Bucky’s smirk grew, and She flushed.

“No- I- You’re not stupid, I just think you’d like it.” She was frowning at Her plate, and Bucky blinked. She’d never missed a beat before, and he’d said much ruder, far more mocking things that weren’t at his own expense, and She’d never just curled up like that.

He muttered Her name. “I didn’t- uh- Why would I like it?”

She glanced up at him with a weary, almost caged expression. “I- It’s fun, in a mindless way where you don’t have to think, you’re just listening to songs, and I think you-“

Her phone buzzed on the table, Her attention dropped to it in a second, and Bucky wanted to grab it and smash it on the table.

It wasn’t a reasonable reaction, but he wanted to know what he seemed like to Her. There was a suddenly, stuttered flash over Her features that made Bucky’s fists clench, and told him that whatever She was reading wasn’t good, but, goddamnit, She was looking at Her phone and frowning, and things would be a lot better if She’d look at Bucky and keep smiling.

But She wasn’t. She was shrinking slightly into Her body as she typed with the shaking fingers of one had, and She was rubbing her leg with the other, and Bucky realized She’d gone worryingly still, the table no longer rattling and Her small papers abandoned- 

She was cold. Of course She was cold. It was the middle of the night, and She’d chewed up all the ice from Her water. And it wasn’t his job to take care of that, and Bucky had already crossed enough not his job lines tonight, but She was chewing on Her lower lip and looked like She was being hunted when she was just reading something on Her phone, and he could make it better just by-

He pulled off his sweater before he could restrain himself, and half tossed it across the table at Her.

It landed on Her face, and when She pulled it off—taking far longer than needed—She was watching Bucky with an amused expression. 

“You’re cold.” He muttered, holding Her gaze. “If you get hypothermia, Sam will kick my ass.”

She just stared at him, and Bucky couldn’t read that expression, over Her pretty features. It was painfully open, almost like She was inviting him to move closer. 

But then She pulled the sweater over her head, setting Her phone face down on the table, and smiled at him again.

It was softer.

There was that clear feeling again.

“I wasn’t that cold, Bucky-“

“You were still.”

“I was still what?”

“Not moving,” he drawled Her name, gave her a flat look, and She just fucking laughed.

“Oh, yeah, Shit.” She leaned back in Her booth, crossing her arms over her chest as She just laughed, and Bucky was going to go insane.

His sweater was a little too big on Her. Enough to cover Her hands, to make the sleeves flop around, but She wasn’t pushing them up, and he wanted to lean forward and see if Her fingers were cold too, just to check, for security-

“Just because I wasn’t moving doesn’t mean I was tired.” She said, and Bucky rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, it does. You’re like a butterfly.”

“What?”

“You never stop fucking moving, kid-“

“You’re thinking of a hummingbird, Bucky. And that’s a myth, it’s not a hummingbird, it’s a shark.” Her smile grew until Bucky could see teeth, and they were a little crooked, but fuck him, that somehow made Her more beautiful. “Are you calling me a shark.”

“No.” Bucky shrugged. “I’ll stick to butterfly.”

And he’d never say it, when She shrugged and they fell into a long moment of silence that didn’t make his head turn into overdrive—the bouncing of Her knee resumed, the rattle of the table moving to his ears and dying as only a sound—but butterfly suited Her. Everyone loved butterflies. They were beautiful.

Bucky had seen them in a garden, once, in the 40s. He’d been freaked out by how delicate they were, but how they were flying so damn high, and one had landed on him, and he’d been so sure he was going to kill it. 

She really seemed like a butterfly.

“If I ask you something,” She said slowly, frowning at Her empty plate. “You can’t be weird.”

Bucky braced himself, but nodded. “What’s your-“

“I want you to do the security.” She mumbled, and all Her little papers were being crumpled in Her fist. “Please.”

“In your-“

“Yes.”

Bucky wanted to push further, work out what made Her change her mind—they hadn’t even mentioned that since the theatre—and file it into his log, but She looked real damn tired. 

“You can come over Sunday.” She offered, and all Bucky could do was agree.

He’d push Her on Sunday. Maybe Monday, if Sunday ended up being a fight.

The gut feeling was gone, though. Bucky was strangely certain Sunday would be fine.

He’d push Monday, anyway. She looked so fucking tired.

“You want to go home?” He asked, and She nodded, glancing at her phone.

“Yes, please.”

She was tired. Bucky knew Shew was tired, when She held onto his metal arm as they stood, and ducked Her head behind him at the sight of the sun, breaking the skyline.

They’d been there all damn night. She needed that rest he’d been telling Her to get, hours ago.

But Bucky found himself walking slower to match Her steps, and keeping Her upright with a careful touch incase She’d try to push him away, and smirking to himself as She mumbled more about books She hadn’t told him about before.

This sure as shit wasn’t his job.

He didn’t think he could force himself to stop.

End Note: I love making grumpy men have emotions. How silly of them.

Thank you so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[colorfullyminded]

TLDR

Okay I cannot believe I'm about to go off like this, but this has been bothering me for awhile, and it's only making me more spiteful. I have been enjoying the influx of Billford art lately. Amazing, great wonderful. What I have Not been enjoying, is the absolute vitriol the Billdip fans have been getting since the influx of TBOB. I was a billdip shipper for awhile. Hell I was a billdip shipper when I was a Parapines shipper-- I liked shipping Dipper with boys. I was also like 14 or 15 at the time. Obviously, if you follow me now, you'll probably notice what my main ship for Dipper is. I grew out of Billdip, and moved on to Pinescone. I have been shipping Pinescone for 10 years. However, not once did I go around saying "Lol, glad I matured and became a better person and shipped something healthier", nor did I post in the billdip tag, condeming people for a fictional ship! And saying mine was better because it was less problematic.

"I'm really glad people stopped shipping Bill and Dipper together. Bill is a 1000 year old triangle demon, and Dipper is 13--" Stop. Repeat what you just said.

"Bill is 1000 year old triangle--"

Repeat that last word to me. "....triangle?" TRIANGLE! I'm sorry what?! This ship is already completely wild enough. You're getting mad at this fictional age gap-- AND BILL IS A FUCKING SHAPE! A FUCKING SHAPE! This ship was weird from the moment GO! And Billford isn't any better. IT'S STILL A SHIP WITH A FUCKING SHAPE! And you're going to sit on your high horse and look down on the Billdip community. On top of it-- they have an age gap too! Bill is still thousands of years old or whatever-- however long it's been, who knows? And Ford was in his 20s or so when he met Bill. That's still a huge, ridiculous age gap-- that Bill could easily use and manipulate; which he did....and then also caught feelings and became a sad ex, but that's beside the point~ Both of these ships are still insane. And again, the bigger thing I think people are just ignoring about these ships--is that Bill is a TRIANGLE! THREE LINES CONNECTED TOGETHER! And this is the hill you're going to die on? ...Cause apparently it's mine. First of all-- as many people pointed out-- Ford Pines did not exist until the second half of the final season. People couldn't ship Fordbill because there wasn't any Ford to introduce.

"Well, even before Ford, I never shipped Billdip! I always disliked it." ...Okay, that's totally fine. Not everyone needs to like or agree on the same ship. Lord knows there's probably people who don't really care for Pinescone either. There's a lot of popular ships that I can't stand. But I'm don't go into a ship tag I don't like, screaming to a void for self validation. I don't go around mocking other people for ships that they had in 2014-- or even still today! It doesn't matter! I did that when I was a kid-- and then realized that was rude, and it was better to just ignore the ships I didn't like and enjoy the ones that made me happy. And grow a community of kind, like minded friends. And listen, I am all for safe spaces and being able to block things that make you uncomfortable. I am not saying people who find the BillDip ship uncomfortable to be idiots or babies or overly sensitive-- or anything like that. I think if something makes you uncomfortable, that is okay and I think it's perfectly fine to blacklist a tag that you don't want to see. I also think it's imperative that people tag things as accurately as they can so people looking at your work can know if one of your pieces has a thing that they don't like-- and therefore can avoid. What I don't appreciate is the fanhate for this ship that is sprouting up like weeds. You can not like something, you can be disgusted by it (I have my Gravity Falls ships I can not stand, nor do I feel comfortable with), but attacking real people for a FICTIONAL SHIP-- two characters who are drawings on a piece of paper and can not be affected mentally, physically or emotionally by fanwork; who still retain the same shape after everything we put them through-- to the point that you send death threats, or threaten to Doxx, or just harass relentlessly, I have always found that more childish and disgusting. You are causing real world pain to people. Me fucking up Dipper Pines is not going to do anything to him-- because he doesn't actually exist. He's a cartoon character. I could squash him and stretch him in Wonka's taffy machine--- I could throw him mock speed at a wall and watch him explode on impact-- but he still exists. He's not dead; I can pick him up and dust him off, and If I wanted-- I could decide that eh, 'Not a scratch on him'. And I'd be right. Because he is a cartoon character, and I am just a fangirl. I can not change anything about him-- I have no ability to make anything I headcanon canon. And even if I was the original artist-- it doesn't change the fact that Dipper would still be nothing more than a creation. A construct of shapes; he can not be hurt or traumatized in a way that leads to real life consequences-- because he is not real. I am not a cartoon character. My friends are not cartoon characters. Artist and Writers who stay in their lane...are not cartoon characters. If you hurt us...it will linger. It will leave a scar. If you can not tell the difference between Fiction and Reality, then I think maybe media might be too much to handle-- and I think you need to really reevaluate yourself.

And just to vent some other things that i keep seeing that are frustrating: You can't claim the twins are only 13-- and then on August 31st go "Happy 20-something Birthday Mabel and Dipper!" And then proceed to drop a picture of them as adults. Well which is it? Do they age or not? Because Gravity Falls showed them canonically aging. If you think the twins age-- then you can't suddenly turn around and go, 'no you can't ship them-- Dipper is a child!' but you drew him as an adult. So sorry, it looks like you can't draw the twins grown up anymore. You claimed they're 13, so better draw them 13 forever--. Aged up stories and works exist for a reason, especially for a fan who grew up on the series. The characters might have grown up alongside them. It's not unlikely for a person to ship Billdip when Dipper is much older.

And on that note, for people who are like 'well older billdip is fine-- it's just people shipping him during the show that deserve to die.' Okay... and like I said, this rant is coming from a recent influx of Billford shippers spitting on Billdip shippers. You know? The TOXIC Old Man Yaoi!

You're still shipping something that is problematic. You are still shipping something twisted and wrong. And I am not judging you. I am here for this divorced arc. I am thriving. But you can't just pick and choose what is and isn't okay. And let me first off explain; if there is something that personally triggers you about a toxic ship, and you want to avoid that-- again, perfectly understandable. Perfectly reasonable. You are the makers of your content space. And I am not judging anyone for that. I want people to be safe. I want people to have a good time in fandom spaces. I want people to not have to deal with the things that upset them or frighten them, or disgust them. But you can not say one is fine, and one is not. They're both bad! They're both toxic. In real life, these ships would both be charged with serious crimes! And yes, there are some crimes that are worse than others, and if you asked me what I thought was more problematic-- I'd say Billdip-- but both of these ships are extreme, and severe in their problematic content. You are still consuming problematic content. If it's a personal thing, that's fine; avoid it. But don't sit there throwing stones from your glass house.

[vodika-vibes]

Ordinary Day

When you flee to Pabu to get away from your life, you don’t expect to find happiness there. You’ve never been so happy to be wrong in your life.Summary:

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Reader

Word Count: 834

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I wanted to write something cute and sorta fluffy so I did.

You like your home.

Sure, it’s a bit small, nothing compared to the grand mansions that you used to live in when you were a child, but your home is cozy and warm and safe…and that’s something that you never had growing up.

Yes. You love your home.

Even the squeaky floorboards on the stairs, and the way that the kitchen faucet drips if you aren’t careful to make sure that it’s turned completely off.

But, you have to admit, your favorite part of your home has nothing to do with your home itself, so much as your neighbor, and boyfriend of two months, Crosshair.

You roll out of bed early, and lazily shower and dress before you start opening curtains and windows. 

It’s your day off, which means, naturally, that you’re awake with the sunrise. Still, it’s a nice day, so you don’t mind as much as you normally do.

You grab some of the dough that’s been in the fridge overnight, and toss it on the counter so you can have fresh bread later, before you go about opening the curtains and windows in the main part of the house. 

Carefully, you tie the curtains to the side, and then push open the window before locking it into place, and a small smile crosses your face when you see Crosshair messing with the speeder in front of his house.

“Does Tech know you’re messing around with his speeder, Cross?” You ask, your voice light as you lean against the window frame.

He straightens and looks at you, a small smirk crossing his face, “Morning kitten.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname, though it’s mostly for show, you both know it doesn’t bother you half as much as you act. “Good morning, Crosshair.” 

He flashes a small smile, “What Tech doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“Mm-hmm, but will it hurt you?”

“I can take him.”

You laugh softly, “Wouldn’t it be better to not start a fight in the first place?”

The toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth moves from one side to the other, “Nah.”

You laugh again and shake your head, “I’m going to hazard a guess that you’re the older brother.”

Crosshair’s grin is sharp, “How’d you guess, kitten?”

“I just have a feeling about these kinds of things.” You reply, and then you sit on the windowsill and swing your legs so they’re outside the house, “So, why are you awake so early?”

“Wrecker snores.” Crosshair replies, his gaze dropping to your bare legs for a split second, before snapping back to your face, “You?”

“Ah. Well, today is the first day of my vacation, so naturally I woke up with the sun.”

“Oh, naturally.” He teases with a smirk, “Hate it when that happens.”

“It’s the worst.” You agree, cheerfully ignoring his teasing, “You going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I was planning on spending the day away from everyone, on the other side of the island.” Crosshair replies, as he drops his bag in the speeder, “I just need a break from people.”

“That’s fair. Well, don’t let me stop you-”

Crosshair watches you for a moment, and then he folds his arms across his chest, “Wanna come?”

“I thought you needed a people break?”

“Come on, Kitten. We both know you don’t count as people.”

“Thanks…I think.”

“Are you coming or aren’t you?” Crosshair asks with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m coming. Untwist your panties, Cross.” You hop down from the windowsill, and hurry over to him. 

“Hm, you spend a long time thinking about my underwear, kitten?” Crosshair asks as you stop next to him.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder.” You reply primly.

“Yeah? Well, that’s a shame, because I spend a lot of time thinking about yours.”

“I think that makes you a pervert.” You muse thoughtfully.

“But not you?”

“Of course not.” You grin at him.

Crosshair chuckles and tosses his toothpick to the side, “So, this counts as a date, right?” You arch a single brow at him, “Which means I can kiss you whenever I want, right?”

“Is that how that works?”

“You know, I think it does.”

“Hm…well, if that’s the case, then yes. I suppose you can.”

Crosshair is quick to take advantage of your permission, as he crashes his lips against yours and tangles his fingers in your short hair to keep you close. “There,” He says as he pulls away, “That’s a proper good morning.”

“Hm…is it?” You ask with a dreamy smile, “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He laughs, “Brat. You can get more kisses when we get to where we’re going. In the speeder.”

“You’re so bossy.”

“You love it. Get in.”

“I’m getting, I’m getting.” You reply with a laugh as you climb into the passenger's seat, before leaning back and stretching out.

You love so many things about Crosshair…but these surprise trips, where it’s just the two of you exploring for the sake of exploring, you think you love the most.

[ukranianacearo]

(Doom x reader/mitsuri) 🙏

Can you do it? Please

Mitsuri!reader (wrote with feminins pronouns in mind)

Words: idk 😔

Genre: Fluff (angst at the end)

Tw: just mashle usual type of violence and mention of death, spoilers for KNY

Tag: @futuristiclanddinosaur

Synopsis: Misuri!Reader as Doom's lover

Author's note: I have only watched the first 2 or 3 episodes of KNY... So idk if this is good or bad 😔 I had to do a quick research on more of Mitsuri's character so I could write this better. Sorry for any mistakes and hope you enjoy! More under cut

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♪ | You probably knew each other from the time you got lost in the woods around his house when you both were younger.

♪ | He was surprised that someone as shy and timid as you entered the woods.

♪ | He talked to you a bit and then walked you to the main exit.

♪ | You apologized profoundly about wasting his time and that you would come to see him again with something to thank him for his favor.

♪ | He wasn't all that eager for that and probably thought that you were joking or not being serious, but he also didn't stop you.

♪ | Guy was so stunned when he heard from you again. And you brought him some homemade food (for the sake of the plot let's say you did pancakes) and a self made necklace.

♪ | You were already surprised when he didn't comment on your pink and green hair (you didn't know that he was just blind), but you were even more surprised when he accepted your gift. Although, somehow hesitant, but he accepted them nonetheless.

♪ | After that, you would just go out to those woods to hang out with him. It really didn't bother him much when you came to hang out and he was still training with his sword.

♪ | You actually were exited to see him practice and cheered him for being strong, mentioning that you also have strong physical abilities and that your wand is in your sword too.

♪ | He was intrigued and said that if you wanted to, you could train together some time. Man wanted to see how strong you were

♪ | He was definitely surprised when you could keep up with him. But it was a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

♪ | After that you guys just hanged out a lot, telling stories, training, etc.

♪ | He slowly, but surely, was getting a little big crush on you.

♪ | He loved every aspect of you; your caring and loving attitude towards your friends and family, your dedication to protect others, your fighting techniques, everything.

♪ | Your voice soothed his worries like nothing else.

♪ | Man was so grateful for you, he appreciated that you still were friends with him even after learning who his father is, how much people he had to kill, etc. He was surprised that when you learned that he was blind since birth, instead of being uncomfortable about it, you were even more amazed of his skills.

♪ | Imagine his shock when he learns that you were supposed to be wed with a man you barely knew.

♪ | He was more angry about the fact that the guy always critiqued you, the said guy seemed to have problem with everything you did and had: your hair, the fact that you train (in the guy's words, "that wasn't feminine), your strength, your personality, etc

♪ | He already was pissed enough at your parents for being shitty af, but now they not just allowed, but encouraged their own daughter getting married to a man who does nothing more but critique her? He was ready to add names on the list of people he killed.

♪ | He doesn't do it just because you said there was no need.

♪ | He might never have seen your hair, but he would stand on that it was pretty nonetheless, just like the rest of you.

♪ | He was surprised that one day, when you came to hang out as usual, you were crying. He didn't know how to console you, so he just patted your back and then rubbed circles on it with his hand.

♪ | That was enough to easy your feelings a little bit and eventually you calmed down and told him everything

♪ | You told him that the guy started critiquing you again as always, and at this point you couldn't handle it no more. You were very upset, but didn't want to do anything too dramatic, so you just took the papers that confirmed that you were engaged to him and destroyed them in his face. Then you just walked out the house.

♪ | Doom acted calm about it, but still let you express your feelings freely.

♪ | He knew it wouldn't be the best idea to let you in his house with his crazy siblings and his father, but he also couldn't leave you outside.

♪ | That was when you officially net his family. As a friend thought. Which wasn't Doom's favorite thing, but it wasn't the time to get upset about something like that. And Doom is a patient man, he can wait.

♪ | It probably was chaotic but most didn't pay a mind. Maybe Famine or Delisaster teased Doom, but mostly they didn't care. Innocent zero did say something along the lines of "Don't be carried away from your missions" or "Don't let the girl get to your head, you're just going to delude yourself and the girl". But if it didn't interfere with his plans he wouldn't give a damn. Maybe he'll use you to his advantage thought.

♪ | After some time, you were used to living there and opened up more. Doom was happy to know that you're living better than before, even though you now count as a criminal.

♪ | At some point you just left your hair have it's natural colour and started wearing clothes that you liked and not the ones your family deemed "more important".

♪ | I feel like, when Doom would realize about his feelings he wouldn't know what to do, but would be chill about it

♪ | Mostly, just because he knows that if he let's it shown you'll be in even more da ger than you already are

♪ | And also because he knows that neither Delisaster nor Famine will let him live it down.

♪ | Domina might start to see you as his older sister ngl.

♪ | I think Doom wouldn't be very touchy, but he still would like to have some physical contact. Might pat your head, or put his hand on your lower back, something like that.

♪ | Might at some confess to you, but I think that he won't. Just to keep you safer, I guess.

♪ | If he does confess and you accept him, he'll be very happy and will show it through a small smile.

♪ | Likes to play with your hair. It's so soothing to the touch and long. He likes to run his hand through it (and if he can't, he likes to twirl it or braid it).

♪ | If he confesses, it means that he is certain that no matter what happens, he won't let you die. Even if he has to give his live in exchange and even if it runs against his father's plans. He has respect for his father, but you were the first person to be there for him at all times, through everything, no matter what piece of new information about him you learned.

♪ | Now, if he doesn't confess

♪ | Oh boy

♪ | Regrets not telling you about his feelings when you die on the Eclipse Day.

♪ | You were fighting against an opponent who had an ability that contra attacked yours very good. And while you did defeat that person, you were left with serious injuries that lead to your death. Your two of three braids were cut shoulder length, one of your arms cut off and your leg injured.

♪ | He held you in his arms as you passed away. He didn't want to believe it, but he knew that you didn't have much time. You, too, knew it.

♪ | As your time alive grew shorter, you felt more easy, knowing that you'll die I his arms and not in the arms of the cold wind.

♪ | For the last time, you decided to chat with him. You made sure he promised that whatever he wanted to do next, he had to finish it in time.

♪ | Feeling brave in your last moments, you asked a question that was based off your assumptions.

You cough blood while trying the bravery and the words in you. Doom's big and warm hands held you bridal style as he was standing near the place where you fought the enemy. It felt comfortable, to know you'll pass away in this away: in the hands of the one you love the most, the one who helped you a lot and the one you wanted to see again. Suddenly, Doom felt your hand, that wasn't cut off, cup his cheek gently and weakly, as you had almost no energy already.

- "If we're going to be reborn..." - you started, coughing out a little bit more of blood. - "... Let me be your bride, okay?" - Doom felt his heart sink at your question. How could this feel so beautiful yet tragic? He didn't know, he didn't need to know. Because all he needed is a little more time with you.

- "If you let me have you, I'll find you and marry you in every one of the timelines. No matter how much time it will take me to find you, or how bloodied will be your or my hands, if you just let me be with you... I promise to put a ring around your finger." - Your heart flutters hearing his determined tone. You smile and let a loving sigh leave you mouth as you feel weaker. Doom notices that and his grip on your waist and lege tightens slightly. He doesn't want you to disappear now, and neither do you, but you're both aware that this is your last minute. Your hand let goes of Doom's cheek and slowly fall to your side as you pass away. Doom's heart sinked completely.

♪ | Don't worry, you're later revived with Innocent zero's spell after he got defeated by Mash.

♪ | As you met with Doom again, you couldn't handle the level of your happiness and just started crying while hugging Doom. Doom hugged you back.

♪ | Anyway, happy days in the prison lol <3 Idk how long his sentence is, but if you guys leave the prison after all, he'll be more than happy to spend the rest of your lives together <3

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This is my take on writing Mitsuri!Fem!reader, sorry if it isn't accurate enough 😭 anyway, I hope you enjoyed and bye bye xoxo

[wooziorgans]

HOLIEST | KINKTOBER DAY 1

pairing: angel!jihoon x male demon!reader

main prompt: corruption kink

warnings: anal sex. loss of innocence (technically virginity loss). bottom jihoon. top reader. biblical themes. jihoon can stop/slow time w his angel powers. reader knows people’s desires. jihoon’s a little hesitant at first but fully consents. jihoon has punched reader in the past. “taking your wings out” is a euphemism for sex. jihoon is not biblically accurate. angels don’t need to clean themselves out for anal sex.

word count: 4k WHOOPS

a/n: happy october! this is officially the start of my kinktober event and we’re starting off strong! this is wayyy too long, but for the first day i think i’ll let it slide. also tysm for 300 that’s insane. what.

also if anyone wants to be added to the tag list pls lmk

You raise the glass of whiskey to your mouth. Just as the amber drops start to fall into your mouth, they stop. You huff, half in annoyance, the other half an unbridled amusement. You remove your hands from the glass and lean back in the comfy armchair. The glass stays in its place, floating, and you know it’s him.

“What do you want, Jihoonie?” You purr softly, not bothering to turn around to face him.

“We had a deal.” The angel huffs, and though you can’t see him, you can almost imagine the furrow of his brows, the way he’s surely stomping his feet as he speaks. You hum, still not acknowledging him, and that seems to piss him off more. “You were supposed to send him to hell. Not purgatory.” Jihoon sighs, and you look up to the large bay windows to see his reflection running a hand through his long blond hair.

Jihoon’s wearing actual human clothes, and not the white robes you see him in most of the time. You swipe your glass out of the air, hand covering the top of it to trap the whiskey inside as you set it down. Angel physics are weird; even after all of the encounters you’ve had with Jihoon, you still haven’t gotten the inconvenience of his powers. Finally, you turn towards him.

“I don’t know what you mean. I sent him to hell. Where were you? Blessing his wife so that she could continue her affair now that her husband was dead? For someone who preaches that he’s so holy, you really must not see the irony of your decisions.” You laugh, stark and short.

“She wanted a child. It’s not my fault our schedules interfered.” Jihoon snaps, and you stand abruptly. You walk towards him, confident strides that seem to knock the air out of his lungs. The angel has interacted with plenty of demons before, but none of them seemed to have the same effect on him as you did.

Jihoon suspects that it has something to do with your own power. The ability to know exactly what people desire. It’s quite troublesome. “Blessing people seems to be your scapegoat for all of that desire bubbling under the surface, angel.” You coo, hand sliding under his jaw to tilt his face upwards. Your thumb catches under his lip, tilting him up by the chin, and you can hear his breath shutter. Jihoon takes a few steps back.

You laugh quietly. The sound is low and sultry, and it has Jihoon forgetting why he’s even here. “I- I do what I’m told to.” You follow his steps, smirking.

“Is that so? I’m sure no one told you to wear human clothes, angel.” Jihoon steps back more, trying to get away from your touch, but he does nothing to remove your hand from his face. “You’re getting the hang of being on Earth. Though, you’re not wearing shoes and your shirt is made of mesh.” You back him into the counter of the bar, still maintaining a bit of distance between your chests.

“I had business to attend to in Busan. I was on the beach. This is a perfectly acceptable outfit.” Jihoon scoffs, hands reaching behind him to grip the ledge of the counter. You step closer, tightening your hold on his chin. Your thumb swipes over his bottom lip and you can feel the muscles in his throat move as he swallows.

Jihoon finally actually looks up at you, face flushed with parted lips. “You’re such a sweet angel; always looking out for humanity.” You push your thumb against his teeth, and Jihoon pulls back slightly. But you can feel it; the thrumming throughout his whole body. You’ve felt it in your soul thousands of times with humans, but the only angel who gives you the privilege is Jihoon.

“We agreed this couldn’t happen again.” Jihoon’s breath picks up as you slot yourself against him.

“No, angel. You said it couldn’t happen again. I said nothing of the sort.” Your grip on his face falters, other hand sliding up his side to grab onto the waist of his jeans. “What was so bad about last time?” The lilt in your voice is teasing, and if you didn’t have Jihoon trapped against the bar, or half as worked up as he is right now, he might’ve taken the opportunity to punch you. He’s done it before, but only in your first few meetings. Distant history.

“You kissed me!” He hisses, in a half attempt at getting away from you. If he wanted to actually leave you, he could disappear just as fast as he arrived. He stays put, and you know that it’s driven by the desire he so desperately tries to cage down. The part of him that must remain holy tries to fight back, no matter how much he wants this.

“What else happened?” You tilt your head to the side, nose brushing against his as you lean forward towards his face. You can hear him audibly swallow, and it only makes you want him more.

“I got… well, y’know… worked up.” There’s a slight shake in Jihoon’s voice, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him.

“But you enjoyed it, yeah? You kept thinking about me, didn’t you?” You purr, breath hitting his ear as you whisper. Your eyes darken, a slight red sheen to your irises. If Jihoon could see your face, you’re sure he’d fold a lot faster. You like the chase though, and so you graze his earlobe with your teeth.

Jihoon lets out a small whine. If you weren’t so close to him, you might not have heard it. One of his hands lets go of the counter, moving to your side to grip at your dark shirt. You place a kiss to his jaw, nipping at the smooth, pale skin.

“Tell me what you thought about last time,” you whisper, “tell me what you desire.” The bite in your voice isn’t malicious. You’re using your power on Jihoon, and there’s a chance it won’t work. It typically doesn’t work on other celestial beings.

“To feel good. Please. Let me sin; just once.” The distance in his voice shocks both of you. It worked.

You pull away from him, lips smacking as they disconnect from Jihoon’s neck. You stare at him for a moment, taking in the flush on his face in the low lights of your penthouse. He won’t look at you. He can’t, not with his involuntary omission.

Jihoon is undeniably beautiful; truly devine in the careful chisels of his face. Though he is, by creation, an angel, angelic is one of the only words you can think of to describe his features. He’s so innocent and pure, even with the slight fuzz of distortion caused by him stopping time, and god do you want to ruin that.

“Come. Sit, and we’ll talk.” You don’t give him the option to follow you on his own. Your arm wraps around his waist as you pull him back to the armchair you were sitting in when he showed up.

You take a seat, stretching out as you wait for Jihoon to sit down. There’s one issue with that: the armchair is the only seat in this section of the penthouse. Jihoon just stares at you, and you pat your lap. He doesn’t move.

You sit up in the chair, arm snaking out to grab Jihoon by the waist and pull him down onto your lap. His back hits your chest as he squeaks softly as you spread your legs to sit him in between them. The wide seat holds both of you with room the spare.

The warmth of your skin, that which is a part of you from being forged in the depths of hell, sends chills up Jihoon’s spine. Your hands smooth the weird fabric of his undershirt, pressing down on his stomach. Your lips latch onto the side of his neck, teeth grazing against his sweet spot.

Jihoon’s full body reacts to you, back arching away from your chest as his head falls back. “This is what you want, right?” You whisper into his ear. Jihoon nods, gasping softly as your hands slide over his thighs. “Good, because I’m going to ruin you.”

He’s so sensitive and responsive, moaning lowly at your confession of your own desires and the hot sparks that shoot through his entire body from your hands on his thighs. You massage the flesh through the smooth denim of his jeans, squeezing the firm muscles as you reattach your lips to his neck.

Your thumb brushes over the growing bulge in Jihoon’s pants as your other hand travels up the mesh of his undershirt. Briefly, your nail catches on his nipple, eliciting another moan from the angel as you continue to move your hand upwards. You reach the light blue fabric of his button up and carefully slide it off of his shoulder.

Jihoon takes the cue, shrugging the other side of it off. The oversized shirt pools at his elbows, before Jihoon pulls it down, over his wrists and off of him completely. Your lips work steadily on his neck, littering the flawless skin with deep purple bruises.

You pull away from his neck as your hand slides over his growing cock. Jihoon mewls, hands gripping at the arms of the chair. You run both hands under the mesh tank top, feeling his radiant skin with your full hands. Jihoon stiffens as your fingers brush over his nipples.

“So sensitive.” You whisper, hands finding the bottom of the tank top as you pull it up his torso. “So pure.” You press your nose into one of the dark bruises on his neck as you reach his armpits with the shirt. Jihoon stalls for a second as he lets you just feel him.

His head short circuits until he feels you tug at the tank top again. He lifts his arms for you, and you slip the fabric over his head. Jihoon’s bare back presses against your chest. One of your hands snakes around his neck to cup his jaw. Your thumb presses into his chin to tilt his head back against your shoulder.

Jihoon goes willingly, lips parting as he closes his eyes. He already seems gone, head fuzzy with lust. That’s when you tut softly, other hand tracing the defined muscles of his chest. Your fingers pinch at his nipple, twisting and prodding carefully. Jihoon moans rather loudly, disrupting the quiet atmosphere.

“Unfreeze time.” You mutter into his neck. You know your senses are muted because of it, and you want to feel the full effect of the angel. Jihoon pulls away from you, straightening his back out. You can see two, almost scar-like lines on his shoulder blades. You run your hands over the skin, and he shivers, head falling forward as a low moan slips past his lips. You do it again, this time dragging your nails around the area.

Jihoon stifles a cry, jerking away from you. In a moment, the lines on his back are gone, replaced by beautiful white wings that start to unravel themselves. And then the fuzz from the time dilation is gone.

The glass of whiskey clatters onto the table, rolling in its place before settling on the wood. Jihoon’s wings are at full span, only for a moment, before they’re tucking themselves back into his shoulders. You pull him back to your chest, one hand slipping around his waist. He moans, but it’s louder, whinier, higher.

He’s getting desperate.

You abort your mission, opting to pick him up and flip him around a you stand. Jihoon gasps, hiding his face from you as he wraps his legs around your waist. “Don’t get all shy on me now, angel. After you’ve just shown me your wings?” The euphemisms goes way over his head, and he only offers you an actual explanation.

“I have to take them out to… you know, do the time thing.” You chuckle deeply as you walk towards the bed. The back of your leg hits the side of the mattress and you sit down.

Carefully, you peel Jihoon away from you to look at his face. He goes easily, hands finding the side of your face. All at once, both of you lean in with closed eyes. Your lips meet carefully, but the softness is gone quickly.

Your hands squeeze at his ass, and Jihoon whines into your mouth. You take the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, and Jihoon attempts to match your movements.

It’s messy, wet, and a little uncoordinated, but Jihoon’s a fast learner. His hands grip at your shirt, tugging it as he kisses you with a fire that wasn’t there the last time. It makes your stomach twist with your own want for him; how eager he is, how much he wants this— wants you.

You can already see the effects of your teasing in how desperate he’s getting for stimulation. You shift back on the bed, supporting yourself with one arm as the other grips his ass tightly. Jihoon pulls at your shirt again, and you help him slide it off, only breaking your kiss to fling the fabric off your body and onto the floor.

Quite quickly, your hands find Jihoon’s jeans, toying with the button. He whines softly, hands raking over your back, across your own shoulder indents, and you shutter. The skin there has always been incredibly sensitive. You grip his ass once again, flipping him over and onto his back.

Jihoon gasps against your lips as he hits the mattress. His large brow eyes are sparkling, pupils blown out. Your hands get to work quickly, undoing the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper open. He’s gotten better at wearing pants, as weird as that sounds. You were the one to teach him about boxers, and you’re presently surprised to find a pair of black ones sitting on his hips.

You pull away from his lips to see him, and he whines softly, chasing your lips. You don’t give him what he wants. Instead, you dip your hand into his pants and run your palm over his hard cock. The weight of it seers your palm. It’s heavy, thick, and so incredibly hard. Divine, you think.

Jihoon moans, back arching off the bed as his hands grab at whatever they can find, which are the white sheets of your bed. “What do you want me to do, angel? Tell me and it’s yours.” You growl, squeezing his cock as your fingers continue to travel downwards.

“Ngh, fuck. I want you to fuck me. Please, oh god- please.” Jihoon whines, chasing your touch as you start to pull off his jeans.

“You—” You nearly tease him, for using the big guys name in vain and for swearing. But you opt out of it. For once. “Ass up, angel.” You instruct, and he listens, planting his feet into the mattress and lifting his hips up.

Your thumbs catch the band of his boxers, and in one quick motion, both remaining articles of clothing are down to his knees. Jihoon’s cock slaps against his stomach as you pull him free. He’s long and thick, dripping precum from his tip. His balls are round and full, and he’s completely hairless. You never knew a dick could be so pretty, but then again, it’s Jihoon. Of course his cock is beautiful.

Jihoon moans at the reverberation of his dick hitting his stomach as you pull his jeans all the way off. You smirk at the way he tries to thrust his hips towards you, silently begging for you to touch him. You want to, oh how you want to wrap your hand around his cock and show him no mercy, but you slip the knot in your waistband and push your own sweatpants down.

Jihoon stares at you, mouth watering as your own cock springs free. Finally, you give him what he wants. You lean forward, lips finding his once again as your hand wraps around his cock. He gasps into your mouth, tongue tangling with yours.

Your hand coats his cock in his precum, giving him time to adjust to the new sensation. You might be a demon, but you’re not an asshole. You can’t give him too much right now or he’ll break, and no matter how much you want to see that happen, it’s too soon for your liking. You speed up your hand, other hand caressing his thigh.

“More, shit, please. I need more.” Jihoon pants, his voice whiny and unsteady. You peck his lips, pulling away from him once again. He whines, as expected as you crawl off the bed to grab your lube from your bedside table. You flip the bottle in your hand, throwing it up as you get back on the bed.

“What’s that?” Jihoon asks, eyes wide. You smile softly at him as you settled back in between his legs.

“This,” you pop the cap off the bottle, “is lube. It’ll help me fuck you.” Jihoon whimpers softly. His pink lips, which are swollen from kissing, part with a quite wet sound. You push his thighs apart, and he goes willingly, spreading his legs as he lifts his knees up to his chest.

“How… how does it work? What am I supposed to do?” He asks softly, slightly breathless.

“Just sit back and look pretty for me, okay? I’ll do all the work. Just let me ruin you.” You squirt a bit of lube on your fingers. Jihoon just nods as you press the dollop of cold lube against his hole. He squirms, head falling back as you carefully push your finger in.

You give him a few seconds to adjust to having something in his ass, before you start pumping your single digit in and out. Jihoon grips at the sheets, unable to really form sounds— just silently gasping.

You push a second finger in, watching his expression carefully. “That feel okay, angel?” You ask, voice low and husky. Jihoon just nods. “How about you go ahead ‘n touch yourself for me, hmm pretty?” Jihoon takes a moment to wrap his hand around his cock, but he listens to you.

“So much,” he gasps softly, “so full, shit.” You just smirk, leaning down to kiss his chest. Jihoon isn’t really sure what to do with his hand around his cock, so he gives it hesitant tugs.

You wrap your hand around his, helping him slide it up and down his cock. Something about seeing him like this, so inexperienced and eager to learn, has you needing to leave him ruined. You want to see him crack. You twist your fingers inside his ass, scissoring them open against the tight muscles protest.

Jihoon gasps, pushing his hips down onto your fingers, accidentally pulling you in closer to his prostate. The tips of your fingers brush against it, and his eyes roll back as a strained moan leaves his lips. You twist them again, prodding at the spot to hear him squeak out such beautiful sounds again.

You push the tip of a third finger against his hole, sliding it all the way in. Jihoon gasps, fingers twitching under yours. You pump them in and out a few times, scissoring as best you can to open him up. He’ll need it.

He gasps as whines against the mattress, exhaling deeply as you finger him. When you decide he’s ready, you pull your fingers out. Jihoon whines softly at the sudden emptiness. “I think you’re ready.” You whisper, releasing your hand from his cock. Jihoon just nods, eyes fluttering shut in anticipation. “I can’t wait to ruin you.” You purr, placing a soft kiss to his chest as you find the bottle of lube again.

You coat your cock generously, sighing at the stimulation before you like yourself up. “Ready, angel?” You place a gentle hand on Jihoon’s thigh. He nods, squeezing his eyes shut as he waits.

“Look at me.” You demand, and Jihoon listens, eyes snapping open. “I want you to watch me put it in.” You pull him up to sit on his elbows. Jihoon looks down, lip in between his teeth as you tease his entrance with your tip.

You slide home in one motion, and Jihoon closes his eyes halfway through. The stretch is too much, so good, not enough. It’s foreign and it’s uncomfortable, but something twists softly in the angels stomach, has him craving more despite the discomfort.

You still your hips, letting him adjust to the stretch. Three fingers almost isn’t enough with how tight he is. “Ngh, fuck. Move, please.” Jihoon pants, chest heaving. You do as he says, pulling back out before thrusting back in. Jihoon moans loudly, back arching as his thighs shake.

You thrust in again, angling your hips up slightly, and his moans get louder. That must be his prostate. “Gonna get you addicted to my cock, angel. Gonna make you think about me all the time. Gonna turn you into my slut.” You groan, completely enamoured by the warmth of his wet walls. “I wanna see you break. Wanna teach you everything there is to know.”

Jihoon just nods, chest heaving as he takes it. “Please, shit. Teach me.” He babbles, too far gone to recognize what you’re saying properly. You can see it in his eyes, the way he can only focus on the pleasure of your thick cock kissing his prostate. You can see how gone he is, how much he loves this, and it drives you insane.

You pick up your pace, hammering into him to hear his pretty, high moans. It’s brutal; raw and messy. Animalistic almost, in the way you’re taking what you need from him. Jihoon can’t even really move or think, far too fucked out from the pace you set. But he loves it.

He loves the full body sensation of white noise that fills his ears and the rest of his head. All at once, it’s nothing, and then a hot flash of white floods his eyesight. Jihoon’s eyes roll back, and he cums, cock untouched as thick white ropes coat his chest.

He’s squeezing so tight around; you it’s too much. “Oh god.” Jihoon sobs, fists tight balls at his sides as his back lifts off the mattress. You give a few more thursts before you cum inside of him, palm pressing down on his stomach softly.

You’ve never been to heaven, but you think the flashes of white that coat the back of your eyelids must rival the pearly gates. You pant softly, hips stalling as you fill him up.

And then you pull out and collapse next to him on the bed. Your hand finds his blond hair, as you smooth it down over his forehead. Jihoon smiles softly, eyes heavy, as he rolls onto his stomach. He buries his face in the pillows, exhaling deeply.

Truly, there’s never been anyone or anything more beautiful than Jihoon to you. He’s truly divine; perfectly sculpted and soft. The fact that you got to have his first time, in the millennia you’ve known him, is slightly surreal as he lays next to you, completely naked.

“I should go. I’ve got to get back to Busan.” Jihoon sighs softly.

“Stay a while. Have a drink. We just had sex. You can’t expect yourself to get back to your angel duties right away.” You laugh softly, hand cracking down on Jihoon’s ass.

“Yeah, sure. As long as this means I don’t lose my wings. I still have to be holy.” He sighs, flinching at the sting, a soft moan leaving his lips.

“Oh, you’re the holiest thing I know.” You whisper, nipping at his neck softly. And you mean it.

tag list: @thepoopdokyeomtouched @noiceoofed @tychebaby @aaniag

[lemonwisp]

Okay folks here is my honest review of season 4 of the umbrella academy (not that it matters but this is from a person who’s obsession runs so deep I started a meme page for this show, I started making edits because of this show, I found out how to label my sexuality because of this show, after season 1 I bought all the comics and then I also bought the you look like death comics when they came out, I have nearly every funko pop (rip hazel and cha cha when I get you and when I get young Ben my collection will be complete) I love this show more than words can describe)

I was expecting it to be bad, in the way that season 3 was bad, and it wasn’t bad in that way, however there was still some awful cgi (tua really shows me that shows can have wonderful and awful cgi at the same time)

I enjoyed the first episode and became hopeful when Klaus got the dog tags but then he doesn’t even put them on despite keeping them. I loved Klaus’s friendship with Claire, I liked Luther acting like a golden retriever. Blah blah blah. I liked Diego and the piñata and the fact they called their firstborn Grace was really sweet

However the continuity errors in this season really bothered me. At the end of season 3 Klaus still has the dog tags and temple tattoo, in the promotional picture Klaus has the temple tattoo, yet in the show it wasn’t there.

The plot hole of Sloane not being there (I know realistically when Allison told Reggie the timeline she wanted she was being selfish but still)

Also the thing about Lila and hating bracelets totally goes back on the fact that Diego got her one in season 2 and she wore it all the time.

THE FACT IT TOOK THEM SO LONG TO GET TO MAINE BUT WHEN PEOPLE JUST WALKED OFF THEY GOT BACK TO THEIR HOUSES AND STUFF SO FAST

The fact Ray leaving was mentioned only twice and we never got more information on that.

The fact that Klaus pulled the lovers card and Dave didn’t come back! The fact Klaus had time to try to summon Dave and just didn’t. Klaus writing STOP on their hand and then that just disappearing. Also Klaus’s PTSD just not being shown anymore.

I’m not even going to talk about the Lila and Five situation because I’m so unbelievably angry about it. I’m obviously angry about Dave not being mentioned at all.

Also I thought Klaus being a medium was clever but also then it just turned into them being used and idk I just want Klaus to be happy

Also Ben this season was funny, but I just miss brelly Ben so much.

And while they were in the subway station I was waiting for Brelly ben to show up because the scene in season 3 of Ben BEING ON A TRAIN! I was like oh that must be brelly ben, like that’s where he went after turning into swiss cheese and then they’d get him and have him face sparrow Ben or something.

And after all of the lead up to how Ben originally died and it just being that Reggie killed him. I feel like that wasn’t that big of a shock value because Reginald seems like the type to do that. I also feel like it was kind of boring. But I did appreciate the fact the young cast were in season 4

Also I’m not saying Jennifer should have died but they said only one of them needed to die and I know it’s selfish to want Ben to live and I felt bad for Jennifer it’s just I didn’t really grow attached to her

I understand why it ended the way it did but also am upset with the ending. I admit the marigolds at the end were cute, but even though I know it’s self indulgent to wish for this I just wanted them to be happy. Or even if the ending was just like a time loop and it restarted back to season 1 would have made me feel a bit more satisfied.

I don’t know, it’s just that I’ve grown up watching tua, I’ve spent five years of my life hyperfixating on this show, and it feels like the actors care about their characters and the writers do not.

However I’m so glad I got to be part of this journey with all the other TUA fans, I thank everyone who supported my meme page I have on Instagram, who makes fan art, fan fiction, and edits about the show and comics, everyone who cares about TUA, and I’m sorry that it ended the way that it did because frankly seeing the fans care more about the characters than the writers hurts. Knowing the injustices done to the characters hurts, but I’m glad I’m not alone when I say season four kinda fucking sucked.

EDIT: NOT TO EVEN MENTION IN SEASON 3 BEN KEPT DRAWING JENNIFER THEN THAT WAS NEVER MENTIONED IN SEASON 4 and CLAIRE KNEW KLAUS WAS IMMORTAL LIKE WHEN DID SHE FIND THAT OUT

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - ninety-two | Mission Accomplished, right?

You sat on the couch and stroked Byeol as she napped, curled up in your lap.

“I know you don’t drink coffee, so here’s some hot chocolate.” San handed you the mug and sat next to you.

“Thank you,” you yawned. You took a sip of your drink and then combed your fingers through your hair and tried to fix the mess it became while sleeping. You looked over at Yunho, he seemed to be doing a not-so-bad job of making pancakes.

“She looks comfy.” San said as he gestured to Byeol.

You smiled. “Do you think cats know when people feel bad?”

“Mmm… I don’t know. Sometimes when I’m sad Byeol will come over to me so… maybe she does.” He smoothed his hand over her fur once.

You nodded. 

He watched you for a few moments as you pet her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I probably should.”

You went quiet again and he watched you as he waited.

“Sometimes I wish I were a cat. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”

“But you wouldn’t be able to play video games.”

“So? I’d be a cat. I’d have no idea video games even exist. I’d play the games Feather Toy and Ball of Yarn.”

He watched you, a half-smile on his lips from your joke.

You sighed.

“So how do you feel?”

You sighed again. “Better, now that Byungchul is being held by the cops and I know he can’t bother me.”

He nodded. “That has to be a weight off your shoulders.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

“I’ll talk to the legal team today and ask her how the case is coming.”

“They’ll have something already?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty fast workers.”

You nodded, impressed.

“So… should we tell the cops we’re dating or…?”

“Oh yeah, about that. We can stop fake dating in real life now, too. Since he’s behind bars and all.”

San’s eyes widened. “Oh-- oh yeah. We should stop pretending to date.”

“Yeah, I mean, Mission Accomplished, right? ‘We got em’.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” 

San looked and sounded dejected to you. You watched him out of the corner of your eye as he went back to petting Byeol.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine.” He smiled.

You nodded. You supposed you were wrong. “He knew it was fake too, so I guess we didn’t do that good of a job.”

He nodded with a laugh. “Well, at least I can take solace in the fact that I’m a much better real boyfriend than a fake one.”

You laughed loudly. “Well, then that’s all the more reason to break off our fake relationship; I wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way.”

He looked at you. “‘Anyone’s way’?” 

“You know. Anyone who wants to date you. If you fake date me, you won’t be able to actually date someone else--”

He opened his mouth to speak.

“--And anyway, Byungchul hopefully won’t bother me for a while, so we don’t need to pretend to be more than friends anyway.”

He thought for a second, closed his mouth, and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

You nodded and forced yourself to smile. “And anyway, since no one will expect you to stream with me anymore, you’re free.” You gestured like you were shooing an animal away. “I cut you loose, you’re free. You can do whatever you want with your free time and real date whoever you want.”

He nodded again. “Yeah, I guess I can.”

You went back to petting Byeol for a few moments before she got up, stretched, and moved over to San’s lap. You smiled, you supposed she was a daddy’s girl after all.

San looked up at you, noticed your smile, and scratched behind her ears.

“Hey, I’m done. Breakfast is ready.” Yunho smiled.

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a/n: “I wouldn’t want to get in anyone’s way,” anyone else want to shake her?

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🧋 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz​​ • @conwunder​ • @tinyelfperson​ • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​ • @jaytheatiny​ •

[razildor]

Work-in-progress Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @thequeenofthewinter thank! I'm still behind on tags, but I'm hoping to catch up soon! Posting on the phone is a nightmare damn.

Tagging: @holdingontojupiter @heylittleriotact @ollypopwrites @farore05 @thepalehorsevictoria @silshinobii @redheadsramblings @aldisobey and any or the normal people I tag lmao love you all

I've slowly been working on chapter 2 of Broken boards, Gilded Hands. Here's what I have so far!

Rook sighs deeply as she closes the back door from the bar she works at, stepping into the streetlight, Double shift with little to show for it in forms of tips. Great. Just great. She was hoping to earn enough to cover food for the rest of the week just enough to tie her over until payday. Shoving her coat on Rook heads down the street, towards the nearby store, looking to buy something to eat.

After paying for some cheap instant noodles, Rook heads towards the bus stop, digging into her pocket for some change, her heart dropping at the little amount.

“Fuck… Guess I'm walking, it's gonna take me at least an hour, but at least the weather's holding up.”

Walking away from the bus stop and into the night, Rook reflects on the last few days, wondering why the Maker made her his punching bag for the week, rubbing her face she winces in pain, the bruise there still smarts but thankfully no lasting damage, if you don’t count her pride. Rook’s mind flashed to hazel eyes filled with kindness and concern, hands covered in gold rings. She wonders what they would feel long running along her cheek, would the coldness of the rings cool her painful cheek, what would the fingers feel like slowly trailing down to hold her jaw with such gentleness as there was in the hazel eyes. Or the feeling as the hand comes to rest around her neck, adoring it with gold-

“Fuck! I’m an idiot… I really need to get laid, Maker’s balls I barely even know the guy!” Rook tells herself with a shake of her head, sighing as she continues to walk down the street under the streetlights, pulling her jacket closer to ward off the cold of the night. She was glad for the day off, she can figure out how to get some cash together to replace the cracked screen, maybe sell some of her crap that’s gathering dust in her apartment. Yeah, worth a try at least.

Rook frowns as she sees a water droplet suddenly land on her screen. Surely it’s not raining? Right? Another land, and another. 

“Aw shit-”

A sudden downpour comes over the woman, drenching her to the bone in mere moments as she runs along the street, taking a corner where she knew a place that should still be open at this time. Unless the Maker is really out to get her, a small cafe she gets her coffee from when she can afford it. An old fashioned place tucked away from the main part of the city. Seeing the lights and the flashing Open sign, Rook lets out a sigh of relief, heading in quickly.

The place was empty save for a few people Rook didn’t bother to look at, instead making sure she doesn’t drip all over the floor and give the workers even more work to do on closing. Taking a seat near the back close to the radiator, Rook peeled off her soaked jacket, draping it over the radiator to let it dry. Looking out the window, the rain was getting more heavy by the minute. She was glad to be close to the Cafe before it got really worse. 

Rook takes a window seat with a groan, glad to be off her feet at last, a twelve hour shift is brutal with little breaks between the hours. Rook idly plays on her phone, replying to a few messages she missed from Bellara, another from Neve asking if she was coming around in the week for dinner. She was grateful for the offer. She hated to fall back onto Neve during the tough times in the months. As Rook was replying a sudden flash from outside the window followed by a rolling thunder, making her jump, dropping the phone to the table with a thud that drew the attention of a few of the other customers yet they returned to their own drinks or laptops. 

Rook slowly took a few steady breaths, trying not to let the panic set in, such a silly fear she thought, yet it always drew bad memories for her. Flashes of someone’s face that she wishes to erase from her life yet always found a way to haunt her, be it in her dreams or during a damn thunderstorm. Fuck. She didn't need to be reminded of him and how he made her-

“Rook?”

The voice of someone oddly familiar snaps her out of her thoughts, head spinning to stare at hazel eyes, framed by a pair of reading glasses that perch on a noble nose- ah shit it was.

“Old man-... Emmrich?”

The frown that started to form on the man's lips quickly faded into a smile as he heard Rook correct herself, nodding as he took a step forward, standing on the opposite side of the time to give her space.

“That's right, I hope you're doing well? I see most of the swelling has gone down”

Rook brings a hand to touch the bruise, wincing a little from the lingering pain, yet a grin forms on her own lips. letting the hand fall to the table with a shrug, trying to calm her beating heart - because of the storm and not because of the handsome looking gentleman across from her- WAIT! 

“Ah.. Ye-yeah! It wasn't anything too bad, not the worst bailout I’ve had and won't be the last.”

She explains, waving nonchalant hands around, swearing Emmrich's eyes flicker to watch it for a second.

“Hm, I take it you had a- as you put it “bailout” that resulted in that stiff left wrist of yours?”

Rook looks at Emmrich, then to the hand she was waving around, then back to him, and his small little smile at the corner of his lips. Fuck how did he-

“How did you know?”

“Ah, my dear. I know the finer points of anatomy.”

Why in the Maker’s unwashed underwear did that sound hot?!

Her face blushed red at the thought, quickly covering it with a clear of her throat before looking at him.

“R-right, what are you a doc or something?”

A twitch of lips followed by a huff of laughter. 

“I’m afraid not, I teach the acts of Necromancy along Fade Studies at the Nevarran University.”

—-

Emmrich groans, the hand holding the cigarette out the car window shakes, the other threaded through Rook's hair, her tongue slowly running up his cock.

“Ah! Rook! Yo-you don't have to d-do this. I need no repayment for your phone.”

“I want to.”

Fuck 

Emmrich wets dry lips, half lidded eyes looking down at the redhead slowly taking him between her lips, his head pressed into the headrest, an uneasy hand bringing the cigarette to his lips, exhaling the smoke above them followed by a moan. 

“Oh, darling, that’s wonderful.”

“Can you take a little more?”

Rook moans around his cock, breathing through her nose calmly, taking more of him into her mouth, oddly enjoying hearing him guide her.