#i might start looking to see if there’s like. a second hand one or something I can get from eBay or something

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 14

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: swearing, a smidge of angst, and some good ol' fluff because that's what BBF is all about!

WC: 2900+

Part 1 | Masterlist

You look up as the door creaks open, your hand sweating against Jake’s palm. Your chest tightens and your head swims. Suddenly, your vision blurs.

…

You hear your name, but it’s muted, like someone is saying it underwater. You open your eyes and see two anxious faces hovering over you. You try to sit up, but your head is heavy and your limbs are weak and you’re disoriented because Jake and Bradley’s voices are getting louder and more overwhelming with every second. You want to tell them to be quiet but the words can’t seem to form in your mouth, or, rather, you’re far too exhausted to make the effort to speak.

Slowly, you sit up, blinking into your lap as Jake says something about an ambulance. You pass a hand over your brow, noting the sweat that’s gathered there, as Bradley starts listing off the various nutrient deficiencies that you may or may not possess. You glance up at the two of them feebly.

Both enormous, grown-ass men are crouched before you, staring at you in terror.

“What happened?” Jake asks and you blink at him slowly, wondering the same thing.

“Are you okay?” Bradley says, tilting his head to the side so he could catch your gaze.

You nod uncertainly, because you’re not a hundred percent sure that you are. You look around unhurriedly, taking in your surroundings. You’re on the porch of your house in a cute little dress, and the porchlight is on because it’s dark out. And then it hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re still on the porch. Has Bradley been informed of the relationship? Or did he already know? Was he angry? Did you get caught in the crossfire and get knocked out?

You blink anxiously – and more alertly – between Jake and Bradley, trying to assess the situation. Neither of them seems to be paying any attention to one another; only to you. “What…” you start, but your voice croaks and you bring a hand up to your throat self-consciously. You clear your throat and start again. “What’s going on?” you ask casually, as though you’re not sitting unsteadily on the ground with no recollection of the last god knows how many minutes.

Bradley’s eyes widen in outrage. “What’s going on is you fucking fainted!”

You look at him with soaring eyebrows. “I did?”

“Right before Bradley came out to take out the trash,” Jake says, giving you a meaningful look.

“Ohhh,” you reply, dragging out the word. “The trash.” You nod again, trying to organize all of the information in your presently scrambled brain. “The trash,” you repeat.

“It’s garbage day tomorrow,” Bradley clarifies.

“Right.” You rub your sweaty palms on your thighs. “Garbage day.”

“And then you just” – Bradley makes a motion with his arm to indicate that you toppled over like a tree might fall when it’s chopped down, and you eye him thoughtfully, doubting your collapse was that dramatic. “You're lucky Seresin was here to catch you. You could have cracked your head open on the concrete.”

You glance over at Jake who’s keeping an unusually straight face. “So lucky,” you mutter without a hint of sarcasm because you don’t think you’re quite capable of that just yet. Nonetheless, Jake throws you a pointed look.

“You’re home late,” Bradley says casually, but you could tell that he’s concerned. “Did you party a little too hard?”

You furrow your eyebrows at him. “Me?” you ask, amused that he’s the one asking you this question and not the other way around.

“Did you take something?” he asks. “Not judging,” he adds. “Just need to tell the ambulance what you’re on.”

Jake briefly drops his head into his hand, but recovers just as quickly. “I don’t think she’s on anything,” he says quietly.

You give Jake a sour look because the only thing you’re on is four vintage cocktails and an espresso, and he knows it.

Bradley sighs. “Where were you, anyway?” he asks. “That Jake had to go pick you up?”

You narrow your eyes at your brother and then at your boyfriend, who is expertly avoiding your gaze. Clearly, he’s decided that Bradley is not equipped to handle two calamities in the same evening. “I was on a date,” you state contemptuously.

Jake stares at you rigidly while Bradley cringes. “I'm guessing it didn’t end well?”

You press your lips together irritably. “You could say that.”

Jake rolls his eyes and stands up. “Ambulance is here,” he says just as the ambulance pulls up and two paramedics rush up your driveway.

“Fuck,” you mutter. “You guys actually called an ambulance?”

“We thought you died,” Jake replies curtly.

You look up at the back of his head as he waves over the medics. “Maybe check for a pulse next time,” you say, your ability to utilize sarcasm apparently restored.

…

After you are thoroughly checked out and given the okay to stay home for the night, you trudge tiredly to the living room couch, Jake and Bradley hot on your heels.

“You should go to bed,” Jake says as you plop down into the cushions. “You need to rest.”

You close your eyes, sinking further into the cushions with a groan. “I won’t make it,” you respond, feeling the exhaustion as if it were a physical thing weighing you down.

Bradley places his hands on his hips. “Jake’s right, you need to get some sleep.”

“I am,” you whisper, your eyelids heavier than they've ever been.

“I’ve got an early day,” Bradley says apprehensively, as though he doesn’t want to leave.

“Go on, I’ll stay with her,” Jake says.

Bradley waits a beat, considering the offer, and then turns to look at his friend. “Thanks, man.” Bradley replies, giving Jake a pat on the shoulder. “I appreciate it.”

Jake nods without looking him in the eye and, once Bradley is upstairs, he approaches you slowly. He takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

You open your eyes about halfway, watching him warily. “I don’t think it’s contagious,” you murmur.

Jake doesn’t laugh. Instead, he eyes you grimly from his corner of the couch.

“Why aren’t you talking?” you ask, getting a little nervous because Jake isn’t normally the quiet type.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes and then squeezes his eyes shut and brings his hands up to his face. He pulls in a lungful of air, and then another. And then he lets out a sob.

You open your eyes all the way and even lift your head up off the cushion slightly. “Are you crying?”

Jake inhales sharply again and then releases an unsteady breath. He rubs the moisture from his eyes away roughly and lets out another sigh. “You scared the shit out of me,” he mutters, his voice just barely above a whisper. His glistening eyes finally meet yours.

You stare at him. “Did you actually think I died?”

“I’ve never seen anybody faint before,” he admits.

“You’ve seen planes being shot out of the sky,” you remind him. Surely this can’t have been more traumatic than his job.

Jake gapes at you. “Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.”

You grimace. “Eww. You don’t have to be so graphic.”

Jake chuckles and sniffles. “I’ve never been more terrified in my life.”

You drop your gaze into your lap. “Is that why you didn’t tell him?”

Jake sighs and brings a fist to his mouth. “What would I say, Baby B? ‘Hey, by the way, I’m dating your sister and she’s so stressed out about it that she’s fallen unconscious on the doorstep?’ Sorry, bro?”

You pout sullenly. “That’s not why I passed out.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Because if I’m the reason –”

“You’re not the reason,” you assure him, although you’re fairly certain he hit the nail right on the head.

Jake releases another heavy sigh. “I’ll tell him tomorrow.”

You close your eyes and rest the back of your head on the cushion once more. “Okay, Seresin,” you respond calmly. “But, if you don’t, I will.”

Jake slides closer to you on the couch and puts his arm above your head. You lift it slightly so that he could tuck his arm underneath, and then you let him pull you in. Falling asleep in this kind of embrace is all you’ve ever wanted since you met him but, alas, this moment feels less than magical.

…

The following morning, you’re startled awake by an obnoxious grinding sound that gradually turns to a sort of whirring. Bradley is in the kitchen making his morning shake. You glance around the room because you’re alone on the couch.

“Is Jake gone?” you call out to your brother.

“Good morning to you too,” Bradley calls back and then walks into the living room holding two shakes. “Made you breakfast.”

You cringe at the green liquid in the glass. “I prefer to chew my food.”

“Well, you’re in luck then,” he says. “Because the blender’s busted so this might be a little chunky.”

You hold back a gag. “Thanks,” you croak, taking the glass from Bradley’s hand as he sits on the couch at your feet.

“Sleep well?” he asks, taking a large gulp of his shake.

“I think so,” you respond, propping yourself up on a throw pillow and taking a sip. “This isn’t so bad, actually.”

Bradley shoots you a self-satisfied look. “I put Nutella in yours.”

You smile at him. “Sorry for the scare.”

Bradley watches you silently for a moment before taking another swig of his breakfast. “I’m concerned, Y/N.”

You sit up straighter. “I’m fine now.”

Bradley shakes his head. “I’m talking about Jake.”

You blink at him innocently while your guts twist in on themselves with dread. “What about Jake?”

“Have you noticed anything off about him lately?” he asks.

“Uh.” You gulp, stalling. “Not really. Have you?”

Bradley sighs. “He’s just been sort of…I dunno. Weird.”

“How so?” you ask, even though you know exactly how so. No doubt Bradley has taken note of Jake’s sudden disinterest in women and it strikes him as odd, considering his history.

“That chick he was dating, remember the one we teased him about? I’m pretty sure he’s still with her,” he says.

You take a long sip of your drink before responding. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I’m not sure,” he says. “I just have a bad feeling about it.”

You glance up at him nervously. “Why?”

Bradley meets your gaze with a defeated expression. “She’s changing him.”

You are far too guilt-ridden to keep looking your brother in the eye, so you drop your gaze to instead study the puke-green color of your shake. “For the worse?” you ask quietly.

Bradley sighs. “I can’t tell.”

You bite your lip, trying not to frown too hard. “He shouldn’t have to change,” you say.

Bradley nods slowly. “That’s what I was thinking.” You swallow another chunky mouthful of your breakfast shake as Bradley rises from the couch. “You should get some more sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you after work.”

As Bradley shuffles about the kitchen, you contemplate your relationship with Jake, wondering if Bradley might be right. You fell for Jake long before he became boyfriend material and there are qualities about him you wouldn’t change for the world. But have there been things that you’ve tried to correct? Have you been unwittingly changing him? Shaping him into something he was never meant to be?

As you sit there in thought, Jake walks through the front door with a paper bag and a tray of coffees. “I brought breakfast!” he calls when Bradley peeks his head out of the kitchen.

“Thank god,” you mutter, setting down your half-drunk shake.

Bradley gives you a look. “I heard that.”

You purse your lips to hide a grin. “I’m hungry!”

“I fed you!” Bradley exclaims.

“I’m hungry for real food, not plants,” you whine.

Jake enters the living room proudly. “Real food, coming right up,” he declares.

“Oh my god, I love you!” you exclaim.

Jake’s hand freezes in midair as he’s about to set down his offering on the coffee table. You meet his gaze in alarm, realizing what you’d just said. What you’d just admitted. Meanwhile, Bradley strolls into the living room, humming a tune, as oblivious as ever.

Your heart pounds in your chest as Jake slowly lowers the bag onto the table, his eyes still locked on yours. “I made you breakfast,” Bradley says, sticking his hand into the bag to retrieve a wrapped bagel. “But him, you love.” Bradley proceeds to unwrap his bagel. “I see how it is,” he says after taking a bite.

You swallow around a giant lump in your throat, suddenly not remotely hungry. “I…” you start, your voice wavering uncontrollably. “I… love food,” you conclude.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You were talking to the bagels?”

You notice Jake suck in his cheeks as he tries not to laugh.

You nod vehemently, feeling like you might just faint again. “Can you pass me one?” You reach your hand out, ignoring Jake’s face completely as he hands you a bagel.

“Alright, kids,” Bradley says. “I’m out.” He starts for the door but, just before leaving, he calls out, “Behave.”

The sound of the door closing behind him makes you severely nauseated, because it directly precedes the moment you have to face Jake. You glance up at him slowly as he digs his own bagel out of the bag. Finally, his eyes meet yours. “’Sup, Baby B?” he says nonchalantly, and you can tell that he’s prepared to overlook the slip if you are. For all he knows, it was a completely innocent statement and meant nothing at all.

But you know otherwise. And perhaps it’s the residual stress or the lack of sleep, or perhaps it’s the fear that your brother might be right about your influence over Jake, but you suddenly feel compelled to tell him. You suddenly feel like he has a right know. “I wasn’t talking to the bagels,” you blurt out.

Jake glances up at you in surprise. He gives you a small smile. “You don’t say,” he responds wryly.

You let out an impatient sigh, annoyed that he’s being so flippant. “I’m being serious.”

Jake nods. “Oh, I know. You were talking to the coffee, obviously.” He tries to hand you a cup.

“Jake!” you exclaim. “Stop being an idiot! I’m telling you I love you!”

Jake sets the cup down and blinks at you with a small, wonderstruck smile, like he can’t quite believe that you’ve said it again. “You mean it?” he asks.

You stare at him wide-eyed, alarmed that that’s all he’s got to say. But it’s not as if you can take it back now. You nod hesitantly.

Jake straightens his back and grimaces, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

You watch him in outrage. His reluctance to engage on account of your brother is no longer cute. You attempt to compose yourself, to hide the pain your face might otherwise betray. You rise from the couch in silence and begin to walk away.

“No” – Jake starts, catching you by the arm before you’ve even cleared the coffee table – “that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry.”

You yank your arm out of his grasp, but he just takes your waist instead. “Let go!” you shout, twisting away, and Jake immediately releases you, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Wait,” he pleads desperately.

“Wait for what?” you yell. “For you to finish freaking out?”

Jake looks like he might be on the verge of tears. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“I wasn’t looking for you to say it back,” you declare. “But I admit that I was hoping for a more considerate acknowledgement.”

Jake takes a step toward you. “Can I touch you again?” he asks, holding his hands about six inches away from either of your arms.

“No,” you respond stubbornly, not looking him in the eye.

Jake sighs, bringing his hands up to his eyes and sliding them bleakly down his face. “Do you really think I would have ever done this if I wasn’t already in love with you?”

You glance up at him, still frowning. “Done what?” you ask quietly.

Jake furrows his eyebrows. “Can I please touch you?”

You press your lips together to keep them from quivering and nod your head.

Jake put his palms on either side of your face and takes another step toward you so that he could rest his forehead over yours. “I’m sorry I’m an idiot,” he says.

You let out a shallow sigh, wondering if perhaps you’ve overreacted. “You don’t have to apologize for being yourself,” you respond glumly.

Jake snorts. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, feeling your mouth stretch into a tiny smile despite your irritation.

Jake brushes his thumbs across your cheeks. “I loved you before I even realized I liked you.”

You meet his gaze skeptically. “That seems improbable.”

Jake grins. “Ever the romantic.”

You roll your eyes as his hands fall to your shoulders.

“I never would’ve gone there with you – kissed you, lied to Bradley” – Jake frowns slightly. “Never in a million years, Baby B. If I didn’t know without a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with you.”

You gaze up at him, justifiably speechless. The fact that he didn’t make a move until he was absolutely certain sets your heart aflutter. You squeeze yourself into him and mutter sheepishly, “So, you love me back, then?”

Jake chuckles and wraps his arms around you tightly. “You’re unbelievable,” he says. “Of course I fucking love you back.”

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[fromthestacks]

I’ve been sitting with this for a couple days because I want to respond (hopefully) thoughtfully. And on the one hand, it’s a really good point and I can see how all the “I hate men” stuff could wear on the guys who AREN’T, you know, raging assholes. But on the other hand, my forty years of lived experience is pushing back on that. Long-winded rant under the cut.

I have a fair amount of men in my life by choice- family, friends, boyfriend. The ones I choose to spend time with are, by and large, really good guys. They’ve also heard more than their fair share of my own “I hate men” rants, and to their credit they’ve never been upset about it. They know I don’t mean them because my words and actions back it up, and they understand where I’m coming from because they hear the stories accompanying said rants and generally agree with my assessment.

All this to say, as much as I sympathize with the good guys who have to listen to the “I hate men” rants, I also very much don’t, because they have arguably more power to help shift that narrative than I do. The shitty men of the world do not care that people think they’re shitty, they are not changed by reason or logic. Men who, for example, sexually harass women don’t (generally) hear the many, many stories from women’s perspectives and have a lightbulb moment where they realize how wrong they’ve been. They will likely never be Ebenezer Scrooge throwing open the windows to wish the town poors a merry Christmas. But maybe, just maybe, if enough of the good guys start speaking up to call them on their behavior, that might have even a small effect on them.

“It shouldn’t be our responsibility” well no shit, grown adults shouldn’t need to be spoon fed basic human decency, but here we are. Women telling men how much we hate being catcalled doesn’t seem to be fucking working, so if the good guys aren’t willing to try telling them, then I’m out of ideas that aren’t along the lines of Goodbye Earl.

One last thing, this is getting away from me. I work a public service job, and it involves a fair amount of face time with people needing help finding things and using stuff like printers. I’m always polite and reasonably friendly, but it’s never anything beyond professionally kind. Even at that, it’s more than half of my interactions with men that leave me feeling uncomfortable. I’ve had men try to take my hand, I’ve had men ask if I’m single thirty seconds into me walking to their computer to help, I’ve had men stand right behind my chair while I’m looking something up. “Why don’t you just say something to them?” Because I’m not trying to get assaulted or shouted at, I’m trying to make it to the end of my shift and go home. It’s extremely well documented that a lot of men don’t handle rejection well, which ends with a lot of women getting assaulted or worse. And the thing about THAT is, you never know which men are gonna be the ones to lose their cool. So you just hedge your bets and tread carefully with everyone in case.

SO. What this very long-winded rant is saying, is that a lot of women encounter a lot of shitty men, and it sucks absolute donkey dick to deal with. If the good guys out there want to stop hearing about how terrible men are, they need to step the fuck up and help, because women are exhausted. The other, smaller, part that they might not like is that it’s not our job to constantly reassure them that I don’t include them when I say “I hate men”. If I’m spending time with you, and trusting you with these stories or complaining or whatever, then go ahead and take it on faith that I don’t mean you.

Maybe I’m alone in feeling this way, I don’t know. Just needed to get this out there.

I couldn't have said it better myself.

[wikiangela]

you're my happily ever after (so i'll take my chance now, risk it all somehow)

rating: G

words: 2.6k

8x06 fix-it, because I'm pissed - I or my fics aren't going anywhere tho <3

thank you to @evansboyfrend for beta reading, ily 🫶

[also on Ao3]

It feels like the whole world is crumbling down. It feels like the Earth should shake, burst on fire, open up and swallow everything around. As dramatic as it is, he kind of expects it to happen, and it’s weird that he’s still sitting here. His ears are ringing, panic rising in his chest with each of Tommy’s words. He watches Tommy get up and head for the door, and he’s frozen to his spot. It’s not- it can’t be. It fucking can’t be. “Wait,” he finally manages to say, trying to keep his voice from trembling, “did you just break up with me?” He asks, hoping to any entity that listens that he just misinterpreted it, that he got it wrong. Because- because he can’t lose Tommy. He’s falling for him so fast and so hard. He’s ready for the next step. He’s ready to move in together. He’s ready to talk about one day, eventually, maybe getting married. He knows he wants that. He knows what he wants, and he wants Tommy.  “Yeah, I guess I did.” Tommy answers, glancing back at him, his expression sad but firm. But Buck knows him. Knows that this mask will crumble into something devastated as soon as he leaves. That Tommy’s heart will shatter, just as Buck’s is right now. He can see through Tommy, he knows that he cares about Buck. It just- it doesn’t make sense. What was he even talking about… It was all so much, so fast, Buck’s brain is still scrambling trying to understand it all.  “Believe me, I didn’t see-” Tommy starts, but Buck shakes his head and interrupts him. “No.” He stands up, his legs feeling shaky. Tommy fully turns towards him, confusion in his face. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” He frowns.

“I mean, no, you’re not breaking up with me.” Buck says more confidently than he feels. Because this can’t be it. The last six months, the best six months of his fucking life, can’t end like this. Can’t end at all. He won’t have this. “I know you care about me. And I care about you. And I don’t want to break up.” He sees Tommy open his mouth to speak, his expression hardening – putting on a mask again, trying to hide the hurt. He speaks again before Tommy can. “If you truly, genuinely want this, not because you think it’s gonna be better for me or you, but because you don’t want to be with me, fine, I can respect that. But I won’t accept it without a fight. I- I wanna fight for us, Tommy.” Buck steps closer to him, hoping that Tommy doesn’t step back, that might just break him. He doesn’t, he’s stuck in place, sad eyes on Buck’s. “Let me fight for us. You-” he adds quickly, on a roll now, not wanting Tommy to interrupt until after he’s done, after he’s said his piece. He needs to say it all now, let Tommy know how he feels. He can’t watch him leave without trying to fix it first. Tommy’s looking at him intently, just listening, not even trying to speak. “You gave me a second chance once, when I fucked up our first date, and I- I want to believe it wasn’t for nothing. So- so you’re my first man, so what?” Buck throws his hands up in frustration, he thinks he’s starting to sound a little frantic, speaking faster and faster. He just can’t let Tommy leave without him knowing exactly how Buck feels. “It’s far from my first relationship ever. Why- why is it so different just because you’re a man? It shouldn’t be. I don’t need to date other people, experiment or whatever else. I’ve dated people, slept around, did it all. I know how that goes, how it feels, and I don’t want to do it again. I know what I want, Tommy. And I want you. And don’t you dare tell me how I feel.” He feels anger seep in, Tommy’s words ringing in his head. What the actual fuck was he thinking? “I’m a grown man, I know how I feel. Yeah, it’s new and exciting, but it’s also real. It’s real to me, and- and if there’s any chance of forever, I want to take it. And-” he takes a breath. He feels like he’s been speaking in one breath, feeling a little lightheaded now, his heart hammering. Or maybe that’s just the panic. “And don’t start with the whole ‘I’m not your last’ bullshit.” He shakes his head again, tears welling up in his eyes, anger still building. Really, what in the world? How could Tommy want to just throw away the most wonderful relationship that’s happened to Buck in years? Maybe ever? “You don’t know that. I don’t know that. Yeah, we could break up one day. But you could also be my forever, and I could be yours. I’d love a chance to find out, even if it hurts in the end. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe I’m the only one here brave enough to risk it. And- and what about my heart, huh?” Tears are threatening to spill, his voice shaking now, with sadness and anger, and desperation. He can’t let him go, he can’t. “You said I’d break your heart eventually. But this, right now? This is you breaking mine.” He finishes, almost panting now, his monologue taking the wind out of him, wanting to say everything on his mind, in his heart. He hopes he got his point across. 

“Evan.” Tommy just whispers, with a pained expression. There are tears in his eyes, too, one lone one slipping through, falling down his cheek. Buck’s hand itches to reach out and wipe it off, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to anymore. 

“Give us a chance, Tommy. Let us fight for this. Fight for me, for us. Fight with me.” He’s aware he sounds like he’s begging at this point, but he doesn’t care. This is too important. “I thought it’s been so good between us lately-”

“It has!” Tommy rushes to say. “It’s been amazing. You make me so happy. That’s why I’m scared, I just- I’m sorry, Evan, but I can’t let myself get hurt like this again. Because I- I’ve been there before, and it was hard to get back up, and with you- I don’t think I’d be able to ever recover from this one.” He admits, his stone-faced facade crumbling, and Buck can see his own feelings reflected in Tommy’s expression. Sad, devastated, heartbroken. 

“We can- we can take some time apart.” Buck says around a lump in his throat. He feels like he can’t breathe. All he wants is to rewind until before he dropped the moving in bomb which must be what made Tommy freak out. He could say anything else, and take it slower, and maybe they’d be on their way out right now, a date night like they planned. “If that’s what you need. A break. But not for good. And then let’s come back to it clear-headed, knowing for sure what we want. And if you still want to break up, I- I’ll respect that. But I already know what I want,” he repeats firmly, decisively. “I want a future with you. I want to move in together, and one day down the line get married, and- and I want it all with you. We can slow down if I’m rushing this. I tend to do that, and if it’s scaring you, I’m sorry.” He adds, not wanting to backtrack any of this, but aware of how intense he’s coming off. He’s never been more serious about anything in his life. “But the past six months have been the best in my life. I’ve never felt so happy, so free, so comfortable, so safe. And I’m not giving up on you, Tommy. I will fight for you until I can’t anymore, until you tell me that you don’t care about me and I should just fuck off.”

“Evan. You know I’ll never say that.” Tommy responds quietly.

“I know. Because I’m confident in us, in the fact that you do care, and you do want me. I know that.” Buck emphasizes, and realizes, not for the first time, that he never felt like this before. This secure. This confident about someone wanting him. “I also know you’re just trying to protect yourself, your heart, and I get it. But I can’t let you go without a fight. I won’t. I messed up a lot in my life, and I won’t mess up this. I refuse to. Because I-” he takes a sharp breath, the words pressing on his lips. He doesn’t want to say it for the first time in a possible break up, a moment of such anger and devastation. But he needs to put it all out there. Needs Tommy to understand how much he’s trying to throw away right now. “I love you, Tommy.” He confesses, sees Tommy’s face melt into the saddest expression Buck’s ever seen on anyone, tears spilling freely now. Both of theirs, he realizes, feeling wetness on his cheeks. “I’ve been falling for you a little bit more with each day we spend together, with each minute. And I know- I hope you feel the same. But if you can look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t-” he swallows thickly, the thought alone is too much to bear. 

“I can’t do that.” Tommy interrupts quickly. “Of course I love you, Evan. It happened so quickly it kind of scared me a little.” 

“I noticed.” Buck says dryly, and Tommy lets out a humorless chuckle. “If you ask me, which you didn’t, by the way, you decided for both of us, which was an asshole move,” he points out, and Tommy looks away, as if ashamed. Good. Buck loves him, which means he’s gonna call out when he’s acting shitty. “I’d rather give us a real try and get my heart shattered if it comes to this, instead of always wondering what if, always wondering if you’re my one who got away. Which you would be.”

“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, takes a step towards Buck, now just half a step away. “I’m sorry, maybe breaking up is too hasty. Impulsive,” he scoffs at himself, probably remembering how he called Buck that just a few minutes ago. Well, so maybe they’re both a little impulsive. Not a problem, in Buck’s opinion. “I don’t- I don’t want to break up. I never want to be away from you.” He says, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand flinches at his side, like he wants to reach out, grab Buck’s, touch him. Buck hopes he does. “It just- it seemed too fast. Like you got wrapped up in the moment. It’s still so new, I thought we were taking it one step at a time, and I didn’t-” he takes a deep breath, as if bracing himself, and Buck knows what he says is going to sting – and it does, it feels like a gut punch, actually, “I didn’t think you were as serious about this as I was getting. And I realize we should’ve done the mature thing and talked it out. I’m sorry. It’s just, we’ve barely talked about any future here. But I want it, of course I do. I’m just- I’m scared. My heart has never been in this much danger.” He looks into Buck’s eyes as he says it, more vulnerable than ever. This is everything Buck wants right now, for them to talk, to discuss this, to try fixing it, instead of one of them running away and the other giving up and not fighting for it. Buck’s been there, he doesn’t want a repeat.

“Tommy.” Buck is the one to close the distance between them, carefully brings his hands up to cup Tommy’s face, giving him a chance to back away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he breathes out a sigh of relief, like he craved Buck’s touch as much as Buck craves his. “You remember when I told you I wanted something with you? Even though I didn’t know what that something was yet?” he asks and Tommy nods slightly, Buck’s palms still resting on his cheeks. “I’ve been serious about you since that precise moment. About pursuing this, and wanting some kind of future with you. I know I tend to rush into things, it’s been a problem before.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “I tried not to do that with you, but I failed, clearly. I just think from now on, we both should stay and talk and try to work it out if we have any issues with something. If you still want me.” He adds a little anxiously, but relaxed when he feels Tommy’s palms settle on his hips.

“Of course I want you, Evan. I always will.” Tommy says, that loving look in his eyes, that always makes Buck’s heart melt a little. That look that Buck loves so much, that made him think that Tommy might feel the same way.

“Good. Like I said, I’m not letting you go. Ever.” He says decisively, a huge weight that’s been there since the topic even started finally lifting off his chest. This might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and no matter the conclusion – which he’s pretty sure will be the happily ever after he’s always craved – it’s worth the risk, it’s worth everything.

“Good.” Tommy echoes, that gorgeous, scrunchy smile of his slowly spreading on his face, and it’s like sunshine came out from behind stormy clouds. “I don’t intend on letting you go, either. I love you, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry for… for this mess. For overreacting.”

“That’s fine, we’re past this- well, actually, we are gonna talk about it more, but at least we’re on the same page now, I hope.” Buck says, slowly leaning in. “I love you so much. I never want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.” Tommy says again, and Buck just wants him to stop saying it. It’s fine, they’re fine now. “You won’t. You have me for as long as you want. I promise.”

“What if I want you forever?” Buck whispers, his face so close to Tommy's, their lips almost brush. It sends a shiver down his spine, like he hasn’t kissed him in days, when they just exchanged a quick kiss hello a few minutes ago.

“That works for me.” Tommy smiles again, and finally dives in for a kiss, but it lasts barely a second before he’s pulling away, Buck trying to follow. Tommy chuckles, running a comforting hand up and down Buck’s side. “But maybe let’s put a pause on the whole moving in together thing, huh? At least until we fully talk everything through.”

“Yeah, good idea.” Buck nods, his gaze flickering between Tommy’s eyes, now sparkling happily, and his pretty, kissable lips. It feels so good to be able to just have a mature conversation and resolve whatever issues arise. If they keep doing that, he thinks they’re going to be okay. He’ll make sure of that. “No need to be impulsive,” he adds, his lips twisting into a teasing smirk.

“Okay.” Tommy chuckles quietly, his cheeks reddening. “Just kiss me.” 

Buck doesn’t need to be told twice. He kisses Tommy like he means it, like he’s his person, like he’s the love of his life, trying to put all those emotions into a kiss. He knows for sure he’s getting the same intent back. And at this moment, in his kitchen, narrowly avoiding losing his love because of a stupid reason, he decides it. One day, not too quickly, but not too far into the future, he’s going to ask Tommy Kinard to marry him. And he’s more than sure of the response he’ll get.

[also on Ao3]

[chamomiletealeaf]

Omg I just thought of something for my fellow curly/black hair readers.

Going home with Simon after meeting him at a bar with your hair straightened, a tight little lowcut dress pushing your tits up and that you have to be careful bending over or lifting your arms too high in because it would expose your tiny panties and your ass hidden underneath it, and some strappy heels.

And god does Simon notice. He can’t keep his eyes off of you the entire night and the way you pull the hem of your dress down over your ass when it rides up. He’s already imagining bending you over and shoving his face into your clothed pussy from behind, letting your dress ride up to expose your ass.

He makes his move and he ends up in your bed a few hours later where you both cum like you haven’t in years. And when it’s time to shower, he invites you in with him.

“Oh- um- I can’t get my hair wet.” You say.

“Just put it up love it won’t get wet.” He responds, brushing a strand out of your face.

You both stand in the bathroom, water running and fogging up the room with the steam, and you don’t have long until the humidity starts to make your hair frizz up and shrink.

“Hm. I- no really I can’t. The humidity is-“

Simon laughs.

“Oh honey, you’re adorable. C’mon nothings gonna happen. You’ll live I promise.”

You looked at the way his body glistened with sweat and the steam from the room and you’d hate to miss out on seeing the water run down his rough, sexy body. You just gotta make sure your hair doesn’t betray you and give away your secret.

“Ok.” You relent.

Simon hugs and kisses you in the shower, running his hand up and down your body while you dodge your head out of water every time you get too close.

“You got a lot of brushes in here. What you got one for each strand?” He jokes.

You laugh nervously, hoping he won’t realize the dramatic ratio in shampoo to conditioner you have that would give away more of your secret.

“C’mon relax love. What’s the matter? I’ll get out if you’re uncomfortable.” He says concerningly.”

“No it’s- it’s not you, I just… you like me right? I’m pretty?” You ask.

“What? Love, I wouldn’t be here if I thought you weren’t, nothing’s gonna change that.”

“Nothing?”

He grips your chin and tilts your head up so you look into his eyes.

“Nothing. What are you an axe murderer or something?” He jokes with a smirk.

You giggle, feeling better.

“No.”

You bite your lip anticipating your next move, and you finally give in.

“Lemme get under the water for a second.”

And you move under the stream, soaking your hair. You watch how it shrinks up and curls, but Simon doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy watching the water run down your tits and how pretty your skin looks all sleek from the water.

After your shower, Simon goes back into your room and waits for you to finish up in the bathroom. Your hair is drying up, and you can’t leave it without styling it or at least putting in some leave-in conditioner, but doing all that would take too long, but it’s too late to hide it now.

After about 10 minutes Simon knocks on the door.

“Hun? You ok in there?”

“Yeah! Um- one second.” You panic, looking at the curls on your head refusing to work with you.

“You sure? You’ve been acting kinda weird. I know we just met but you don’t have to hide anything from me.” He says.

You put one of your styling brushes down and sigh. You might as well just let him see now. You really liked him, and if he didn’t like all of you, better to learn that sooner than later.

You walk over to the bathroom door and open it, still in your towel, and Simon doesn’t say anything.

You look up at him after a second and you see him wide eyed, a smile forming on his face.

“It- doesn’t usually look like this. I haven’t finished styling it so it’ll be better when-“

“I love it.” He cuts you off. “As if you couldn’t get any prettier.” He says as he cups your cheek.

“Is this why you were worried about the water?” He asks with a laugh.

“Um- yeah, I thought you wouldn’t like it.”

“Oh love, I would’ve made a move sooner if I knew this was what was hiding, not that you were any less sexy before.” He says, booping your nose.

You giggle, feeling a little stupid that you had no problem letting this stranger man fuck you senseless, but you were too nervous about him seeing your natural hair.

“You think it’s pretty now? Just wait till it dries. It’s just gonna get bigger.” You joke.

“Can’t fucking wait.” He says with an excited expression on his face, then he picks you up to bring you back to the bedroom where you both spend the rest of your night.

Hopefully this one night stand won’t be just that.

:)))))

[zweigsangel]

ballerina!reader and chris fluff with strict ballet teacher?

you’re standing in the ballet studio, ankles aching, breath coming in frustrated little huffs as your teacher drills you yet again on the same sequence. she’s pacing back and forth, tapping her stick against the floor with that familiar, grating rhythm.

"you’re not grounded enough," she says, in that disapproving tone that’s somehow both ice-cold and like fire scraping along your nerves. "you’re light in the wrong places and heavy in all the wrong ones."

you roll your eyes, but only when she’s turned around. you don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how much her words bite. but she catches it anyway, glancing over her shoulder and raising one perfectly drawn eyebrow. “you got something to say?”

you’re about to mutter something half-hearted in return, something safe, when the door to the studio cracks open and chris peeks his head inside. his eyes meet yours, and just like that, a smile creeps across his face. “angel,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

your cheeks heat instantly, and for a second, you can’t stop the little grin that escapes. you might be exhausted and sore, but the way he says it—like he really thinks you’re his angel, even here, sweaty and frustrated—melts some of that tension right out of you.

your teacher notices the shift immediately, spinning around to see what’s changed. “oh, i see,” she says, gaze sliding over to chris with that pursed-lips look. “so, we’ve got an audience now?”

“wasn’t planning on it, but if you insist.” chris winks, giving her a cheeky grin, and before she can tell him off, he’s slipping further inside, hands shoved casually into his pockets. he’s wearing that damn leather jacket you love, and he still has his skates slung over one shoulder, like he’s always ready to hit the ice if needed. he looks a bit out of place here in your ballet studio with its polished floors and wall of mirrors, but he couldn’t care less.

you can tell she doesn’t love the interruption. but she’s not gonna tell him off either. she sighs, glancing at the clock, and seems to decide she’s had enough of you for the day. “fine,” she says, looking back at you with that critical eye of hers, the one that says i’m letting you off easy. “we’ll continue this next time. get some rest—and stretch, for god’s sake.”

you breathe out, a shaky little exhale of relief, and give her a quick nod. but as soon as she’s gone, chris crosses the room, wraps an arm around your waist, and pulls you close.

“god, angel, i swear she’s out for blood.” his fingers trace along your spine, gentle but firm, and you feel that familiar warmth under his touch, the tension seeping right out of your muscles as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“you’re tellin’ me,” you mumble into his shoulder, letting yourself lean into him a bit. “she’s a nightmare.”

he laughs, soft and warm, his thumb rubbing little circles against your lower back. “well, you looked pretty damn good to me. but she’s right about the stretching thing.” he pulls back just a little, eyes meeting yours with that mischievous glint. “c’mon. floor. i’ll help.”

you groan, rolling your eyes, but he’s already guiding you down, practically dragging you to sit with your legs outstretched. he doesn’t care that you’re half-grumbling; he settles right in front of you, scoots up close so he can grab your ankle, and then starts to gently work on loosening you up, pressing just enough to stretch without pain.

“seriously, chris, i’m fine,” you say, a little bashfully. you’d been ready to drop straight to bed, not get a post-rehearsal stretch courtesy of your boyfriend.

he gives you a look, a smirk quirking at the corner of his lips. “don’t argue with me, angel. lemme take care of you.”

and damn it, you can’t argue with him—not when he’s looking at you like that, all soft and adoring, like he couldn’t care less about the sweat in your hair or the fact you’re probably a hot mess right now.

so you let him, because that’s easier than trying to fight back the smile creeping onto your face. his hands work their way down your calf, soothing and gentle, then up again to your thigh, lingering a little longer than necessary.

“this some sort of tactic?” you murmur, eyebrows raised as his thumb presses slow circles against your thigh. “maybe,” he says, that grin back on his face. “figure if i can’t come in here and defend you from the wicked witch herself, i can at least help you feel a little better after she’s done with you.”

you scoff, pretending to be exasperated. “you’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“and yet, here you are,” he murmurs, leaning in closer. his voice drops, softer. “and here i am. looks like you’re stuck with me.”

his forehead rests against yours, and he’s looking at you with so much warmth it’s almost overwhelming. but it’s exactly what you need—what you didn’t even realize you were craving after the hellish day. he’s right here, grounding you in a way no one else could. the ache in your body starts to fade, replaced with this soft warmth that only he seems able to give.

“hey,” he says quietly, still rubbing his hands along your legs, “don’t let her get in your head, alright? she doesn’t see what i see. she’ll never get it. but you’re… you’re somethin’ else, angel.”

you feel the heat rush to your face, like it always does when he talks to you like this. you try to deflect, roll your eyes, make a joke—anything to stop yourself from melting right there on the studio floor. “yeah, yeah. i’m sure you say that to everyone you stretch.”

he laughs, tugging you closer so you’re practically sitting between his legs now, his arms wrapped around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder. “nah, only my favorite ballerina.” he presses a kiss to the side of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “now, let’s get you home.”

he stands up, offering you his hand, and you take it, feeling the warmth and the solidness of him as he pulls you up. even with the sore muscles, the exhaustion, you feel lighter as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you close as you both head out.

“i don’t care what your teacher says,” he murmurs, squeezing you tight. “you’re perfect to me, angel.”

and in that moment, with his arm around you, his words soft in your ear, you believe him.

[ohbueckers]

HEART OF A WOMAN. you should call into work if that ain’t too much to ask, i could pour you up a drink and we could burn somethin’.

03, CHAPTER THREE. COME THROUGH.

ju speaks. late chapter again lol and this election fucked me uuup but thank God for writing as a distraction. you can expect another part between now and monday mayyybe… i have some free time. pairing. wnba!paige bueckers x fem!oc. warnings. same old + sexual innuendos (we’re very familiar with my edging game).

present day, may 2025.

paige: yo 6:23pm

wyd?

nailea text me back bro 6:29pm

nailea: hmmm

busy

paige: busy my ass

nailea disliked a message

nailea: i’ve been at work all day. some of us don’t get to just play basketball, madison 😓

paige: ohhh is that right?

i’ll have you know i work hard af ma

nailea: hard enough for a reward?

paige loved a message

paige: bring that ass over here nai

nailea: i’ve got emails to finish

paige: they’ll be there tomorrow

i’m here right now. waitin on you actually

nailea: maybe i have been thinking ab it 6:32pm

paige: mhm?

well you ain’t gotta think no more let’s just do

nailea laughed at a message

nailea: you’re really ridiculous

paige: come over and tell me that to my face

nailea: depends on what you got there

a girl needs incentives

read 6:35pm

paige: i got plenty

few drinks, maybe roll up too. thought that might get you

nailea: it’s a start

send the address, i’ll come through when i’m done

paige loved a message

i sink back into the couch, letting my head rest against the arm, my feet comfortably draped across paige’s lap. the last few days, i tried to keep myself busy, focus on work, ignore the way my phone would vibrate and my thoughts would jump straight to her. the same old game. she’d sent a few texts, nothing too serious, just little things to test the waters i guess, and when she called yesterday, talking about how much she missed me, i could already tell she was pulling me back in, trying to see if that thread between us would hold.

paige kept her word, though—i can give her that. i said i’d answer, and she made sure i’d have a reason to. she knew exactly what to say, and it’s a shame that she always does, really. it’s messed up, but it works. i can’t say i haven’t missed this, either. the way she can look at me and make me forget everything i swore i’d remember, every reason i should’ve walked away.

and now, here we are, the sun setting behind her window and casting everything, even her, in some warm, orange glow that only makes her look all the more attractive. it’s like the universe is playing along, trying to romanticize something i know i should be more careful with. there’s an old celtics game playing on the tv, but neither of us is really paying attention to it. i watch her more than the screen, notice the way her fingers brush absentmindedly over my leg, the way she insists that she should be the one to hold the joint to my lips.

paige leans back, and her hand has inched from my ankle to a casual spot on my bare thigh. we’re both too deep in drinks and hits to make sense of it, but i’m not sure i would’ve said anything even if i was sober. she’s wearing one of her uconn tees, which i guess you could call old now, the shirt hugging her arms a little tight. her hair’s falling over her shoulders, looking a little shriveled but still perfect, and every time she glances at me, she wears this smug little smirk.

“…feels like everything i knew it’d be. more work and pressure than it seems, but you know me,” paige says, her grin turning a little self-satisfied, like she’s relishing every second of her own success. we’ve been catching up—if that’s what you’d call it—for awhile now. i should probably leave soon, sober up and drive home. i’m not that far. but i don’t want to.

she drags her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, eyes hazily drifting back over to me. “what about you, huh?” she asks. “you got that insane move up. what’s that been like?”

i roll my eyes, tilting my head against the couch arm to look at her. “it’s not that insane.”

paige grins, shrugging and taking a sip of her lazy attempt at a cocktail. i’d offered to make them myself, honestly not trusting the blonde to not fuck it up, but she’d insisted, hostess duties or something.

“still sounds like a pretty big deal. you’re all professional and shit now,” she rambles, and i can’t help but chuckle at her choice of words.

i shake my head, hiking one of my legs up. “it’s not like i’m paige bueckers or anything,” i tease, a stupid, huge smile on my face. how is she able to bring out the worst and the best in me? “no one’s asking me to sign their shoes after a meeting.”

she laughs, eyes half-lidded and glassy, gaze intimidatingly lingering on me just a little too long. “bet you got your own version of that, though. people hangin’ on your every word, just tryna get a second of your time. don’t lie.”

i shrug, eyes shooting away from her. i don’t get how she does it. “i mean, it’s been good,” i admit. “long hours, but it’s nice to finally get involved the way i always wanted to, y’know?”

her hand shifts a little on my thigh, just enough to remind me it’s there, and i glance down. “coulda called that years ago,” she murmurs, barely louder than a whisper. then, it’s silent for a moment. just long enough for me to think of something else to ask her before she beats me to it. “you happy?”

i swallow, suddenly feeling a little hot in the face. “i am,” i reply after a pause, furrowing my eyebrows with a nod, almost like i’m trying to convince myself of it. “the dream, right?” i let out a breathy laugh, and paige smiles.

it’s silly to think that the both of us could recall that conversation like it was yesterday. but this wasn’t the dream. not the one we had when we were kids. just our own fucked up, adult version of it. and somehow, someway, we’re still here. somehow, someway, we still can’t let it go.

“and the people? they treat you right?” she sounds like she really cares, but is still trying not to press too hard.

“everyone’s good. most of them, anyway.” she can probably see through every word i say. pick up on the way i describe everything as good. i hesitate, looking back up at her. “never thought i’d be this close with a pro team after graduating, that’s for sure.”

“bro, ‘kea really don’t play ‘bout you,” paige laughs, but she’s serious. rickea’s one of the first people i got close with during my internship, contrary to belief. i was barely around the team then, too. “and maya’s been talking all kinds of good about you since cam’s party.”

i can feel my face flush, and i shift to sit up next to her, suddenly acutely aware of how close i am to paige, how tangled up i’ve let myself become. the mention of her name has clearly been a sore subject. i’m not sure why i feel so guilty, paige was mine first, but my mind flashes to her anyway, and then to paige, who’s probably hearing everything maya’s been saying about me, while i’m here, in the middle of all of it.

i don’t wanna ask what she’s been saying, and i surely don’t wanna press further into how deep paige and maya might be. ignorance is bliss, right? but shouldn’t it be my business? is paige still my business?

instead, i force a shrug. “i mean, it’s not like we’re on the same level,” i say, clearly selling myself a little short. maya’s been here longer, knows what she’s doing better than i do. credit never hurt.

paige doesn’t say anything. she inches just a little bit closer, and the sound of a sold out stadium of cheers from tatum’s three pointer is suddenly going in one ear and out the other. a small smirk tugs at her lips, and she tilts her head, eyes not sure what to focus on as she rubs up and down on my thigh, hand inching a little higher everytime. “i agree.”

i squint at her. “you do?” but it’s less of a question. my eyes flick to her lips, and i know she catches it because her smile widens, just a little.

“mhm,” she murmurs, her fingers twisting in, gripping my thigh until i’m squeezing my legs together. there’s a moment of silence, like she’s giving me a moment to breathe, to prepare, and she’s not done. “nobody’s fuckin’ with you, baby. believe that.”

i can feel my defenses slipping—not that they were ever really there anyway—as she presses closer, and i feel a warmth spreading through me, one that has nothing to do with the la heat. “what are we even doing, p?” i ask, and i don’t know where it came from. no part of me wanted to start an argument, or worse, hear the truth. i can’t look away.

she shifts, her expression softening as she glances down, then up again. she doesn’t know the answer either. “i dunno. what we always do.” she leans back a little, resting her head on the couch right near my chest, so close that her breath brushes against me with each exhale.

i tilt my head down, just enough to meet her blue hues, and the words come out before i even realize i’m saying them. “i’m supposed to be over this. over you.”

the second they’re out, i wish i could take them back. i didn’t wanna ruin the moment. the way her face changes, her jaw tightening and a flicker of something unreadable flashing in her eyes, tells me i’ve hit a nerve. a silence falls between us, an uncomfortable one if i’m honest, stretching longer than i mentally prepared myself for.

paige screws her eyes shut, letting out a low, frustrated breath as she sits up, running a hand over her face like she’s trying to gather herself. the loss of her touch makes me feel cold. “fuck, nai.”

i push myself up too, eyebrows are furrowed as i try to make sense of it. “what? i just asked a question.”

“you always gotta make shit so fuckin’ difficult,” she mutters, shaking her head like this whole thing is somehow my fault. like i’m the one complicating it.

i frown, glancing down, and she continues. “you’re just—God, nai, it’s like you can’t just let things be. you always gotta question it, question me.” she bites down on her lip. she’s actually upset, and the horrible part about it is that it’s so like her—so unmistakably paige—that somehow, i can’t even bring myself to be mad.

i want to laugh. “why does that piss you off?” i don’t want to say it, but the words slip out anyway. “you think you’ve given me any reason not to? especially now that you’re seeing maya?”

her head crooks to look at me, and her eyes narrow with it. “what the fuck does maya have to do with this?”

i can feel the heat in my face, the way everything inside me tightens, like i’ve been holding my breath for way too long. “what do you mean, what’s she got to do with it? you’re seeing her, paige. i’m not blind.”

her jaw clenches tighter than before, and she stands up, pacing a few steps before turning back to me. “we’re not—” she pauses, clearly trying to find her words, but i’m not giving her the time.

“that’s all i need to know,” i finish, forcing a tight-lipped grin. “you don’t have to lie. i’m quite sick of those from you, actually.” i chuckle, but it’s a hollow sound, one that doesn’t even make it past my throat. i reach for my shoes that i tossed to the side when i got here, pulling them onto my feet.

paige watches, hands on her hips, and i’m fine with her quiet. “i don’t want you to leave upset with me over somethin’ we coulda talked about,” she softens, but it doesn’t change the fact that i’m already over it.

“i’m not upset with you,” i bluff, and i tie the laces of my sneakers a little tighter than necessary.

she glances down, tongue swarming her mouth, and i don’t even have to look at her to know that she’s thinking of some way to stop me. “nai—“ she starts.

“i’m not upset,” i repeat, and i hope it was more firm this time. i force myself to look her in the eyes, not a single thought behind them. neither of us is willing to be the first to back down, but i’m too exhausted to care anymore. “i just need to go,” i finish, standing up and rounding the couch.

paige’s face drops, hesitation etched across her entire face. “you can’t leave. you had too much. just… stay, aight? we’ll figure it ou—”

i grab my jacket, ignoring her weak attempts. somehow, this all feels like that night again, and i feel that familiar nausea creep up. “i’ll call a fucking uber,” i snap, throwing the door open. and before she can stop me, i’m gone, my pulse racing as i step out into the hall, leaving behind the sound of her voice.

i don’t think i’m very good at pretending i’m not upset.

[cosmicalily]

"to be loved is to be remembered" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

procedural memory | kim seungmin x fem!reader

procedural memory: a type of implicit memory that is categorised as the unconscious guide to the processes and tasks performed on a daily basis.

author's note: this might be one of my favourite seungmin fics i've ever written. and maybe i'm biased because he is my bias and i love strawberry matcha, but i think sometimes it's okay to be self indulgent. enjoy!

There were many things that Seungmin would do without realising, as if he was on autopilot. Actions that were ingrained into his daily routine, little activities that made up his day without his awareness. The way he made his bed, the double knot he always tied on his shoelaces, the route he took to the coffee shop where he worked. He loved his routine; he loved simplicity and consistency.

At work, he thought even less about his actions. He was a quick learner, and had mastered the art of perfect coffee early on. He heard the words ‘latte’ or ‘flat white’ and somehow the completed drink would appear in front of him thirty seconds later.

“Do you do iced strawberry matchas?” a voice asked, snapping Seungmin out of his coffee-scented daze. He looked at the shot he’d started running for a flat white and then at you, cheeks pink from the cold and eyes sparkling. A soft blue scarf was wrapped around your neck, covering your chin, and you wore a cosy navy cable knit sweater, just a little too big at the sleeves.

Seungmin thought intently. “We don’t,” he said truthfully, drumming his fingers on the benchtop. “But give me a second. I’ll try and make something for you.”

You beamed in excitement. “Thank you!”

“It’s no problem,” Seungmin gave a half smile back, digging around for the matcha powder. “Although, I have to say, who orders an iced drink in the middle of winter?”

Your cheeks flushed a little pinker and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up, it’s business for you, isn’t it? And I’ll tip, obviously, because it’s a custom order. They just don’t taste as good warm. I tried it once, and it was awful.”

“Was it?” Seungmin paused, tipping the ice cubes from your cup back into the tray and placing it into the freezer. “I’m going to try and change your mind. Out of confidence as a good barista, but also out of concern for your health, because you’re literally going to freeze as soon as you step outside with ice in your system.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“It’s on the house.”

“Deal,” you agreed, leaning against the counter and watching as he poured the frothed strawberry milk, creating a little bear design. He leaned to grab a lid, but you knocked his hand away. “It’ll cover the art you did,” you protested, and he shook his head in amusement.

You breathed in the soft, sweet scent and took a sip, thinking hard. Seungmin watched intently, his attention distracted from the three coffee orders he had lined up to complete next. You smiled, and his face softened. “Good?” he asked.

“It’s shit,” you deadpanned, then burst out laughing. “It’s amazing! How much do I owe you for it?”

“Nothing,” Seungmin replied, eyes shining.

You opened your mouth to protest, but he gave you a warning look. “Do you do this often, then?” you asked, taking another long sip of your drink.

“What do you mean?”

“Save girls with silly drink orders from hypothermia.”

“Sure, it’s my favourite pastime,” Seungmin replied seriously, though his eyes twinkled mischievously. “No, not ever before. You’re the first, Strawberry.”

Your smile widened at the nickname. “Even if you’re lying, I feel special. Thank you…” you paused.

“Seungmin,” he finished, handing over a latte to a man behind you.

“Thank you, Seungmin. I’ll be back, I promise!”

He nodded. “I know you will. See you around, Miss Matcha.”

You snorted and walked towards the door, spinning around and blowing him a quick kiss. He winked and you burst into a fit of laughter, and once you were properly out of sight, he let a full smile creep across his face.

By your third visit to the coffee shop, he didn’t even need a prompt to make your order. By the fifth, your drink would be sitting, ready for you, extra hot. Even though you no longer had a reason to wait, you always stayed to talk to him, and he was thankful you did.

Soon, Seungmin became unconsciously aware of your routine, of your timing, of your daily scarf rotation. Once winter ended, he caved and made you your first iced strawberry matcha, which you declared better than any other iced drink you’d ever consumed. He still refused to let you pay, but he was always accepting of your newfound habit of leaning across the counter and giving him a quick kiss before you left for the morning. Initially on the cheek, but by mid spring, on the lips. Your kisses tasted of your mauve lipstick, cinnamon, and of course, strawberry matcha.

After a year of dating, you moved into his apartment. Seungmin, a lover of routine and consistency, found himself mesmerised by your sporadic actions and in the moment decisions. It didn’t frustrate him, the way he worried it would. Your presence was a constant, something dependable that he centred his new, irregular routine around, filled with evening walks and beach day trips. He learnt your habits, and soon, your actions were as familiar to him as his own. He would still make his bed in the morning, and you'd help him, finishing the job off with the two jellycat puppies you'd bought for your six month anniversary. He would tie a double knot in his shoelaces, and wait for you to slip on your ballet flats. Whilst you always had your signature drink at his shop, he knew you loved chamomile before bed, and there was always a mug of it by your bedside after you'd gotten out of the shower.

And of course, you did the same for him, but in your own way. You'd lay on top of him, playing with his hair for hours, explaining every single thing you adored about him. You cooked him dinner, and you'd sit on the counter beside him as he did the dishes. It was routine. You were each other's routines.

He kept working at the coffee shop, but now as a manager, although he always insisted on making your drink himself, and you would visit him, sometimes bringing your laptop and glasses with you to set up in a corner and work, other times bringing whatever book you were currently engrossed in.

“Hi baby,” you smiled up at him, stretching your arms and dog-earing your page.

“You know I hate when you do that,” he groaned, sitting beside you on the bench. Nevertheless, he pressed a kiss against your cheek and you giggled.

“I know, but like, it shows the love I have for my books. The ones that have crumpled pages and tea stains and frayed edges are the ones I read the most.”

Seungmin shook his head. “I’m just teasing. I love you and your broken books.”

“They aren’t broken-” you protested, but he cupped your face in his hands and silenced you with a soft kiss.

“I love you,” he repeated, eyes glossed over.

“I love you too,” you gazed back at him. Your book fell off your lap, but you didn’t move to grab it. The strawberry matcha Seungmin had brought over was probably cooling, but you didn’t care. It was moments like this where everything felt like muscle memory, where nothing felt new or uncomfortable. He was familiar.

He grabbed your hand, entwining your fingers in his. You gently stroked his thumb, then whined when he let go of your hand to reach in his pocket. “What are you doing?” you asked, then you paused.

He’d slotted a ring on your finger.

“You can say no,” he said, looking you directly in the eye. "You can take it off. But it feels right for me. I saw it in the window the other day and I didn’t even think, I just bought it. Which is crazy, because you know I overthink and overplan everything.”

“I know, you’re a dork,” you smiled, but your eyes were glassy. “Why the fuck would I say no? Of course I’ll marry you.”

Seungmin breathed out and pulled you in a tight embrace. He felt warm, he smelled like coffee, and the skin of his neck was soft against your cheek. “I’m glad, because I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“I’m only doing it for the strawberry matcha, of course,” you quipped, chuckling.

“I’m only doing it out of pity,” he added.

“Dickhead.”

“Asshole.”

You leaned against him, his arms around your waist. He kissed your cheek, your forehead, your shoulder, and you rubbed his back. A buzz went off in his back pocket, a reminder that his break was over.

“So,” he broke the hug, rubbing the back of his neck. “Your drink’s probably cold. So I guess, as a good barista, I probably have to make you a new one.”

“I’m gonna make out with you for hours tonight, Kim Seungmin,” you declared. “You’re my dream boy.” You blew him a kiss as he stood up, taking your drink with him, and he winked in return.

You watched his reflection on the steel coffee machine, and saw him smile.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Seeing all this stuff on Cat König and Horangi being complete assholes just makes me wonder how they’d act if they saw their caretaker just..genuinely upset..like when they’d usually be yelling at König for eating all the food or at Horangi for being a little destructive goblin their just nowhere to be found, and of course they get confused because come on..the person who’s always yelling just goes silent out of nowhere? So when they look for them they find them just in their bed, completely covered up, not moving, and that just makes me wonder how they’d react, would König go for the sit on them till they suffocate and have to move..Horangi with the constant baps..or would they actually try to give them little head buts or just lay by them? I don’t know it just seems like an interesting scenario to me ever since I kept seeing all this stuff on this topic.

I think Horangi would be the first to notice, but König would be the first to actually check on the reader. Not that Horangi doesn't care, it's just when he notices what's going on he feels so bad that he doesn't know what to do. When König notices, he makes a plan.

König would be eerily silent. Normally he's so anxious that he always has his claws out, making little tippy taps as he scurries about. For this one moment, he's calm and prepared.

He ever so gently lays down beside you as close as he can to you. Maybe he might lay on you if he thinks that would be good for you, but I see him more as the type to lay down by your side and lay his chin on his paws. He'll swish his tail over top of you and press in close.

It takes a second for you to notice. At first, you're too miserable to move, but you remember your therapist told you to pet animals when you're distressed, so you figure you might as well.

As soon as you start petting König he lets out the most glorious purr. For a cat with such pathetic crackly mews, the purr he lets out is so deep and rich you'd think he was replaced by a fake. He rolls into you and burrows into your arms. He tries to rub his face against yours and tries to pull you in close to his side.

As soon as Horangi notices that König hasn't been punted to the other side of the room, and rather that König's actually helping, he's in on it too.

He comes up to your other side and curls around you too. He's purring too, bright and comfortable. He's a bit more playful and energetic in his affections. He's rolling over to let you scratch his belly, but then he grabs you with soft paws and licks your hand. He's a giant sweetheart about it all. Unlike König, who's all snugggles, Horangi likes to lick your fingers, hands, your face if he can get close enough.

If König isn't there to give Horangi the ques, it takes him a bit longer to figure out that he needs to get out of his own head and help out. He's scared to reach out. You can't blame him. I know you might want to, but he's scared to make it worse.

He can't leave you to suffer forever though. It isn't that long before he's trepiditiously padding over to your side. He sits by your head and just watches nervously for a moment. He hesitates, but he does do the little nervous batting. He tries to get your attention as carefully as he can.

When you turn over, his heart breaks. If König were here, he'd know what to do. Horangi tries his best to figure out what he can do.

Soon, he's pulling a König move, something Horangi never does. Horangi's an independent cat. He doesn't like being picked up, he doesn't like being held. You can hold König upside down, but Horangi doesn't really like to be touched too often.

When you're sad and broken, he pushes all his pride aside and crawls up to sit on you. He's not a crushing weight like König, he's just a warm little blanket. He sits on top of you and he purrs.

It doesn't make everything go away, but feeling Horangi reach out to you first, it melts your heart. You can't help but smile when you reach up a hand and Horangi shoves his face into your palm. He's desperate to see you smile just a little bit more.

Both cat hybrids genuinely care about you. They can be menaces, but they're good men. They love their owner (König a bit more possessively than Horangi) and both of them want to see their owner happy. They'll do what they can to make you smile when you're feeling down, no matter what.

[darkmagyk]

percabeth baby fic/teacher au!

“Constantinople.” Jason said. Ms. Dare nodded, meaning Jason had gotten the question right. He glanced at Dr. Chase to see if she had noticed, if she would give the little nod of approval that all guys on the Jupiter School quiz bowl team craved.

But Dr. Chase wasn’t even looking at them. She and Mr. Jackson, the Juno’s Academy coach, were talking in a low voice, Mr. Jackson showing Dr. Chase something on her phone that was making her frown.

“The 2015 hit movie King of Sparta features this Hollywood leading man?” Mr. Pace asked.

Jason knew this one, he had seen all 4 King of Sparta movies…

Piper, the cutest of the Juno girls, rang in first, and hung her head even as she said “Tristan McLean.”

“Correct.” Ms. Dare said. She glanced down at her tablet to look at the next question, but she was stopped because Mr. Jackson had walked back over to their quiz bowl scrimmage, and put a hand on her shoulder. He leaned down and whispered something to both Ms. Dare and Mr. Pace. Who both nodded.

“I’ll be back,” He said, mostly addressing his Juno students. “I have to go run an errand really quickly.”

Then he left. But it meant Dr. Chase could redirect her attention to the team.

Mr. Jackson was not back through another 2 rounds. But Jason got the coveted Dr. Chase nod 3 times for answering the math questions correctly.

They were nearly tied up, though Jason had just face palmed when Connor had answered “What city was helped by the French, Spanish, and French again before being sold to the United States?” with “Montreal.” Much to Frank and Hazel, who got the answer “New Orleans” correct, chagrin, when Mr. Jackson came back. He was not alone.

In one hand he held a baby carrier were a sleeping infant in a blue onesie and blue beanie, wrapped in a blue knit blanket was laying. On the other side, a slightly older child, but still probably a toddler, was resting on his hip. And trailing after him was a slightly older girl, maybe 4 or 5.

“Sorry, everyone,” He said, “babysitter had an emergency.”

“Isn’t your babysitter Fred?” Mr. Pace asked.

Mr. Jackson nodded.

“What kind of emergency do history professors have?”  Ms. Dare asked.

Mr. Jackson shrugged, “Well, everyone,” He nodded to the teams, “this is Junie,”

The oldest girl waved, but then ran to Ms. Dare, giving her a hug. Which might have confirmed the rumor he had heard from Reyna and Hazel, that Mr. Jackson and Ms. Dare were a couple, if not for the fact that Junie then immediately also hugged Mr. Pace.

“Lucie,” Mr. Jackson said. Setting the very very blonde toddler down on the floor. She stood on a second of slightly unsteady legs, before she found her balance and waved with a wide grin, adding “Hi.”

“And hopefully Sofie will stay asleep.” He slung a bag, a diaper bag Jason guessed, off his shoulder, and started opening it, digging out some duplo blocks and a coloring book and some crayons. With a little bit of effort, and Dr. Chase’s help, the older girls were set up in two of the desks, with the toys, and then they refocused on the practice.

“What three Roman gods made up the Capitoline Triad?”

Oh, good, Jason knew this one. He hit his buzzer.

“Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva.” Everyone looked over where the oldest girl. Junie, was grinning at them, having answered the question.

“Sweetie,” Mr. Jackson said, “this is practice for the big kids. Why don’t you finish coloring a picture for my desk.”

Jason glanced to the back corner of the room where Mr. Jackson’s desk was, and now he could see what looked like a dozen children’s drawing and coloring pages.

“But I’m right,” She said.

“You are,” Ms. Dare agreed, not hiding her smile at all.

“Let’s keep going,” Dr. Chase said.

And then Mr. Pace asked his next question.

“Falling on December 20th or 21st, what is the shortest day of the year?”

“Winter Solstice.”

“Junie,” Mr. Jackson said again, “if you answer all the questions, they students can’t learn.”

“Ok,” She said. Going back to her coloring.

Ms. Dare turned to the next question, “Finished in 1936, this public works project was one of many used to hire people during the great depression.”

Jason paused, he knew this one, it was on the tip of his tongue. Leo’s buzzer beat him to it.

“Hoover Dam.” Mr. Jackson’s daughter said.

“Annabeth Jackson,” And that was Dr. Chase, who Jason knew’s first name was Annabeth. It was an unusual name. Had Mr. Jackson named his daughter after Dr. Chase? “It’s ok to know you’re smart. You don’t have to prove it.”

“Like mother, like daughter.” Ms. Dare joked. Mr. Pace laughed, Dr. Chase shot her a glare.

“Next question.” Mr. Jackson offered.

“Right, yeah,” Mr. Pace read the next question, “What name could you give to an Empire that lasted from 1299 to 1919, or to a small piece of upholstered furniture.”

Oh, that one was easy, too.

“Otto Min.” It wasn’t Junie Jackson who spoke this time. It was the younger one. Lucie. She waved when she saw everyone was looking at her.

Dr. Chase sighed, but Ms. Dare and Mr. Pace broke into a giant about of laughter.

“It’s ok,” Mr. Jackson said, patting Dr. Chase on the shoulder. “She’s just jealous they’ll be on my team when they get older.”

“We’ll win, Daddy,” Junie announced.

“Absolutely,” Mr. Jackson said.

“Did you marry me just to create the ultimate quiz bowl champions?” Dr. Chase asked Mr. Jackson.

“Yep,” Mr. Jackson said.

“I knew it.” Piper announced. She turned to her team, “you all owe me $20.”

[luvendiary]

game night / f. weasley

fred weasley x reader

summary: game night takes a twist

The party had started to die down by the time Hermione had decided to leave for the night. It was one of the famous Gryffindor parties the twins throw whenever they won a Quidditch match or they just felt as if things at Hogwarts needed a bit more of excitement, this one in particular was the former. Even though you yourself prefered a night in talking with her roommates or reading, she couldn’t deny that once in a while a party was pretty fun.

After Hermione had announced that she was heading up for bed, you had made your way towards the couch by the fireplace. You weren't ready to head up to bed just yet, so instead you just sat next to Harry and Ron.

“Tired?” the raven-haired boy asked.

“Not quite.”

And that’s how the group found themselves playing truth or dare. Harry, Ron, Angelina, Fred, Geroge, Katie, Ginny, and yourself sat spread out in front of the fireplace. You were currently drawing on Harry’s hand with a pen she had brought back last summer, a habit youhad picked up over time.

“Alright! I’ll start!” George announced before focusing his attention on Ginny. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” she said with a smirk.

“I dare you to steal Filch’s cat and dress it in Slytherin robes.”

Chuckles and giggles could be heard between the friends, knowing that Ginny was never one to turn a dare down.

Ginny stood up and walked over to the portrait, not before glaring at George who was snickering along with his twin brother.

Moments later, Ginny rushed inside the room with a set of robes on one hand, and Mrs. Norris on the other.

You burst out laughing as Ginny set the cat down in the center of the group and dressed it with the Slytherin robes.

The night went on and the laughter in the room only increased, Angelina and George had made out and they were now sitting next to each other holding hands. Katie had not been able to talk for the last 3 rounds and Harry and Ron were now sitting on the couch wearing a huge oversized shirt that said “This is our get along shirt” on it.

“Okay,”Fred said as he looked around the room, his eyes eventually falling on you, “Alright. Dove. Truth or dare?”.

You hesitated, your eyes flicking toward Fred, who sat just across from you. Your heart gave a little jump as his gaze met yours, bright with expectation. You’d harbored a crush on Fred Weasley for quite some time now, though you’d never once entertained the idea that he might feel the same way. Not that it stopped your cheeks from heating whenever he so much as looked your way. It didn’t help that he had publicly used the nickname he reserved for you in private whenever he teased you.

“Truth,” you said finally, forcing yourself to sound calm. You could see George and Fred exchange a knowing look, and your heart pounded a bit faster.

Fred raised an eyebrow, pretending to think for a brief moment. “Alright, then,” he said slowly. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Your pulse raced, the words settling into the air like a firework, bright and unexpected. Just for a second, your eyes widened, but you managed to play it cool. “Dare,” you replied, biting back a smile.

The room went silent for a second, everyone waiting, wide-eyed. And then, without skipping a beat, Fred leaned in closer. “I dare you to kiss me.”

Your heart skipped a beat as the words left his mouth, a playful, challenging glint in his eyes. In a flash, you felt every gaze on you, the entire room seemingly holding its breath.

"Never have I ever!" you blurted out, without skipping a beat. You quickly grabbed the small cup of pumpkin juice by your side, lifting it to your lips in defiance.

Smirking at him you stared as the rest of the group raucously laughed at him. George held on to his shoulders and shook his twin as he loudly muttered something along the lines of “she got you so bad mate.”

Fred however, did not look the least bit deterred. Although the4 entire room’s attention seemed to be on him, his gaze was pinned on you shamelessly. He smirked back. “You can’t escape that easily, dove,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear. His words made your stomach flip, but on the outside you played it cool.

In response you just shrugged your shoulders. “We’ll see about that”.

The game continued, everyone diving back into their dares and questions with gusto, but every now and then, your eyes would drift to Fred. And whenever they did, he’d be watching you, that playful grin never wavering.

Once everybody decided they were tired enough to call it a night you found yourself making your way back to your dorm room. But you wouldn’t get rid of that redhead with ease.

“So…” he called out from down the stairs, hands in his pockets, “was that a no?”

You tilted your head slightly and walked down the stairs. A light skip in your step, as the alcohol had your veins buzzing.

He leaned against the archway and a bit closer to you, his voice softening. “Or is it that you just prefer your kisses to be on your terms?”

You smiled mischievously before slowly standing on your tippy toes and placing the softest of kisses on Fred’s lips.

“How about you draw your own conclusions, Weasley,” you whispered before heading up the stairs, leaving a lovestruck Fred Weasley behind.

[canonicallyobserving911]

Buddie: Episodes 6x10 vs. 8x7

Last Thursday when I watched the promo for this week's episode, I noticed a lot of similarities to 6x10 and since then I've been wondering if the callback to the lightning strike will have any significance along with an effect on Buck and Eddie. Aside from the obvious of a firefighter hanging from a ladder truck's aerial, there are several others that are blatant and appear to have been done on purpose.

Since season 8 began, there have been numerous callbacks to previous seasons and they include emergency calls the 118 has been dispatched to. In 8x6, they were sent to a home where a young boy was trapped in a pipe and it looked similar to the well Eddie rescued Hayden from in 3x15. However, before Eddie could be pulled up to safety, the well collapsed and Buck lost his mind and started clawing at the ground and trying to dig Eddie up with his bare hands. Now, even though the 8x6 callback to the well didn't appear to have any obvious effects on Buck and Eddie, it's possible the call in 8x7 might.

An actor from the TV show set of "Hotshots" gets injured and he ends up hanging from the 119's aerial. It's too eerily similar to a call the 118 was dispatched to in 6x10 and it's when Buck got struck by lightning and he died for 3 minutes and 17 seconds. However, this call seems to be more than just a similarity because all of the 118 team members are standing in positions and doing the same things they did in 6x10. It almost seems like TM (showrunner) is setting up something big and he's trying to jog someone's (Buck's) memory (it makes me think my Buddie Crack Theory [linked here] is still in play).

Reminder Buck was dead, so he has no idea what happened after he got struck but everyone else does. In CANON, no one has told him about that time period that he was hanging in the air and the look on his face in the promo makes it seem like he's trying to figure something out.

Let's get started.

After the 118 arrives on the scene, one of the first things I noticed is Eddie, Chimney and Buck are all standing in the same positions they were in before Buck climbed up the ladder in 6x10. Eddie and Chimney are right beside each other and Buck is standing away from them. In 6x10, he was preparing to go up the ladder.

The second thing I noticed was Bobby looking up at the Hotshots' actor the same way he looked up at Buck after he was struck.

Hen was looking up too the same way she did in 6x10.

Furthermore, Eddie's (it looks like Eddie on the left and Buck on the ladder on the right) position on the ladder in 8x7 appears to be the same as it was when he climbed up without a harness to save Buck.

There weren't any shots of Chimney looking up in 8x7 or of how he will be involved in the rescue but his role was key in 6x10 so I'm anxious to see how it will all play out.

Gerrard and Bobby are standing side by side and they're both looking up so I want to know if Bobby will have a flashback to Buck being struck and I also want to know if he'll have to tell Gerrard the best way to get the actor down.

I also noticed Chimney and Eddie are wearing sunglasses but no one else is. They all have them and since the sun is out and Buck's squinting when he looks up, it seems like he should be wearing a pair. Hen has eyeglasses that have lenses in them that transition to sunglasses but she's not wearing them. Also, I've noticed Eddie only wears sunglasses when he doesn't want anyone to see his eyes 👀.

When Buck (on the right) and Eddie (on the left) start trying to rescue the actor, Buck starts yelling "No, no, no, no!" and it sounds similar to the yell he let out after he was struck by lightning.

Just saying.

It's unclear what TM is doing and no one will know until the episode airs but I'm excited to see if Eddie being in the same position he was in after Buck got struck will have an effect on him.

I'm excited for 8x7 and I hope the obvious call back will have some meaning and allow the 118 to remember what happened to Buck and hopefully, Buck will ask questions about what happened to him. Reminder, he STILL HASN'T PROCESSED HIS DEATH.

[mixtapedoh]

hi hi this isn’t a request, more of a “i do not have anyone else to scream about this with” BUT ANYWAYSS, idk if you listen to keshi but i was listening to Soft Spot on repeat and I cannot get woozi out of my mind send help. might have to start writing for svt at this rate. anyways back to studying for midterms i go, hope you’ve been well olive!

NOT A REQUEST BUT I CAN'T CONTAIN MYSELF BECAUSE FUCK YEAH YOU GET ITTTTTTTTTTTT.

also, hi jen <3 how are you <3 i have been habitually away from tumblr and that is my fault because i saw this like two weeks ago and was going to listen to the song you sent and then. simply did not. forgive me, forgive me, i am unworthy of such correct headcanons and vibechecks, but thank you for sharing them regardless.

ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀ ꜱᴏꜰᴛ ꜱᴘᴏᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ .⭒˚.⋆˙⭒.✮

.⭒˚.⋆˙⭒.✮

"so i was just talking to hoshi—" you opened the door to your apartment and set down your keys, tugging off your shoes and already mid conversation, as had become your habit, after moving in with jihoon. you paused for a half second, just long enough to wrestle off your other shoe, and from somewhere deep in the apartment, you heard jihoon's wordless sound of interest. i'm listening. "—and he is somehow under the impression that we are going clubbing with him and the others this friday."

you walked into into the main room, your steps soft and meandering, where jihoon sat on the couch, his guitar next to him and a notebook resting on his lap. he had a pencil twirling in his fingers, and when you caught his eye and asked, "do you know anything about that?" he looked down and pretended to write something.

"yeah, i told him we'd both go." his voice did it's best to feign casual disinterest.

"you told him? you??" the surprise in your voice was giddy and sweet, bubbling like a can of coke just popped, carbonation fizzing.

jihoon still didn't meet your gaze. "you've been saying you need an excuse to wear that new outfit you bought a month ago... and we're spending that night together anyway. i knew you didn't have any scheduling conflicts." he was mumbling this last bit, and the erratic twirling of his pencil did little to hide his nervousness. "two birds, one stone."

you had the buoyancy to laugh, warm as the late afternoon sun coming in through the window. "woozi. you hate clubbing."

he had to look at you, this time. if only to see how your face would melt further into affection and tender admiration. not that he was somehow any better — all the attention made his complexion rosy, and for the life of him, he couldn't wipe off this stupid grin. "but i love you."

"ji!!" the whole of you spun into a whirlwind of motion as the lovesickness hit you square in the chest. you covered your face in embarrassment, and when jihoon laughed, it only brought you somehow closer, now standing above him, your legs brushing the front of the couch. "you can't say that! makes me blush... makes me all stupid in love."

he managed to capture your pinky with his. "it's a good look on you."

you swatted his chest with your free hand, and jihoon pulled you closer, sitting you on his thighs and kissing you deeply. you intertwined your fingers with his, and after breaking away, kiss both of his cheeks. twice. for all that jihoon loves to claim he doesn't understand romance and doesn't believe in all the mushy stuff, he certainly always tries to get it right with you.

you kiss his neck, and jihoon sighs your name contentedly. you smile against his skin before pulling away to ask, "are you really gonna give up our inuyasha rerun night for clubbing with hoshi?"

his face contorts into a playful grimace, and you can't help but laugh at the expression. "that's when loving you becomes the operating part of my promise."

.⭒˚.⋆˙⭒.✮

[smilesatdawnmain]

ETERNAL LMK AU (Part 6) (Interactive Story)

Time for some answers

The rules are simple.: I will give the written passage, and then at the bottom there will be a vote on how the characters act next!

Story: Eternal Au

Ships: Shadow Peach

Digging his heels into the dirt to try and slow his speed, realizing the farther Wukong went so did he, Macaque called back angrily to the collectors,

“What is going on? What isn't good??" he demanded.

The collectors cringed, glancing at each other. Rushing to keep pace with Macaque, wearily eyeing the sky in case somehow Wukong did spot them, they nervously smiled. Normally they would never fear, but that golden vision of his- it was rumored to even view the dead if he was looking close enough.

One of the collectors, a stout figure with a chipped jaw and a nervous twitch, cleared his throat. “You see,” he started, his voice wobbly, “That connection you’re feeling? And uh, seeing? It’s… complicated.” He shuffled back a step as Macaque glared, spitting out words like venom.

“Complicated? Explain! I don’t have time for riddles while that fool flies off with me!”

The second collector, a more slender figure, leaned in closer. “It’s the bond,” he whispered, as if saying it too loudly might make his presence known to the flying King above. “Remember before how we said souls can get held up from moving on? One being, their soul is stuck or trapped like yours was?"

“Okay?” he grumbled, slipping his hand just a tad through the ropes these collectors insisted on keeping to hold onto him. Shifting between them he grasped the golden string around him. As much as he tugged and wiggled, it wouldn't loosen. It felt hot to the touch.

It felt like Wukong- his very essence and power.

It gave a strange sense of both comfort and discomfort considering Macaque’s own emotions were torn by the man.

The burly collector continues, "There are other reasons that can stop a soul from moving on. The other two are they have some lingering connection to this world that is preventing them from leaving. Or... a living connection is tethering them down. Honestly, it could be both cases for this one." the two nodded knowingly to each other.

"What does that mean?!" Macaque snapped, standing to try and pull and remove this rope from him, only to gag as it dragged him further rightward to follow after Wukong.

The Collectors followed, “Soulmates,” they summarized.

Macaque blinked, confusion flashing across his features before morphing instantly into indignation. “Soulmates? Are you out of your minds? Wukong and I?” He spat the name like it was poison. Such a thing would once thrill him. Perhaps even now it… still kind of did.

A soulmate was something rumored in the demon community. The thought of something so pure and wonderful was a dream he himself had when he was just a cub. But now, tainted by blood and betrayal, the very idea sent a shiver of revulsion coursing through him. It was horrible. It was impossible!

Something so sacred couldn’t possibly be. A soulmate came once. Not just in a lifetime. As the name implied, it was the one intended for your very soul. To find this person took more then luck.

Wukong was his soulmate??

Wukong was… his?

And he didn’t want you.

The thought made him seethe to avoid the pain that followed, “If that fool is my soulmate, then I’d rather be bound to the netherworld!” With every protest, the golden thread seemed to pulse brighter, almost as if responding to his anger. The more he wrestled against the bonds, both physical and ethereal, the stronger the connection felt. It tingled through him—a sensation that flickered between distaste and a kind of reluctant warmth. Ignoring it was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Well this doesn't often happen with mortals but well uh- demons are a little different." the smaller collector admits weakly, "Certainly makes our job harder, let me tell you. As a demon you live a long time, thus the connections you make are always stronger. Sometimes the magic of demons and their soul mates even mix together making a literal tether-" they gestured to the rope.

Macaque slowly looked down, his eyes flarring. NO.

No no no.

“What does this mean for me? Is there any way to remove this?" he couldn’t be Wukong’s soulmate. He couldn’t continue to be forever tied to that King- that jerk. The man who cared so little for him he would choose everyone else over him!

One of them shrugged, nonchalant to Macaque’s despair, "Soulmates are tricky? Honestly, maybe not until he moves on."

"Moves on??" Macaque repeated. "That doesn't- eleborate!" he barked, kicking his feet.

They held up their hands, "Chill! Chill man." they sigh. "Regrets, lingering desires, many of these things some people can let go once they come to terms with their death. A trip you never got to take, a hobby you never got around to trying- simple things that could easily be put aside. Love and soulmates, that is where it gets tricky. People could mourn all their life and never truly move on or let go of those they have lost. A person soul knows who they are destined to be with, and tend to have an issue with letting go."

Macaque's mouth felt dry. "What does that mean for me?" his mind was reeling, "Are you saying that until Wukong "lets me go" or whatever bullshit like that, I can't move on?"

The two stepped back out of Macaque's range when he tried to swipe at them, "Basically?" they offered sheepish smiles. "Same could be said for you. Sometimes those who are dead can't let go of the living people they are leaving behind.”

Macaque felt his face heat, quickly barking, “I have no issues letting that man go!”

They blinked once, then at each other, not believing him for a moment. “Rightttt.” they trail off. “Either way, usually this problem can be solves by the person eventually moving on, or... the person keeping the tether dies."

They all glanced at the very much immortal Monkey King. Macaque's eye brow twitched. He rushed over to Wukong, yelling, "Move on from me you son of a-!!”

The diyu collectors covered their ears as Macaque let out a long set of slurs.

"I wait and wait and wait- and you never had any problem letting me go before! Ditching me for years- and NOW suddenly you got an attachement issue?!"

He held onto the string attached to his waist, feeling it pull him in different directions like a puppet on a string. Peng had always made fun of him, asking if there was anything Wukong could do to break his grip over him. Well, murder sure felt like it should have done the trick!

So how was he possibly still tied to him??

….he knew how…. But he would rather not say.

Previous

Next

[mrevankinard]

Let’s just go with Tommy said yes to moving in and they have sex about it. Dom-Tommy just bending Buck over whatever surface is most to your liking.

"Why be apart when we can be together?"

Buck was impatiently waiting, pacing back and forth in the kitchen as he rechecked the time on his phone. His stomach fluttering with emotions, no real nerves just anticipation and weird relief? calmness? that he hadn't felt before.

When the sound of someone knocking on his door finally filled his apartment, Buck eagerly hurried over and yanked the door open.

"Hi" "Hey" They greet each other before Tommy puts his hand on Buck's waist and pulls him in for a kiss on the cheek. "You're not going to believe this, I got a parking spot right out front. I think we should Uber to the movies so I don't lose it"

Buck kept smiling before gesturing for Tommy to step further into the apartment. "Uh yeah sure! Can we talk first?" he asks as it feels like some nerves might be swirling around in his stomach after all.

"Of course, we got time. What's up?" Tommy asks looking at him with a patient smile and his hands on his hips.

"Umm, maybe sit? We should probably sit" Buck suggests and takes a seat on one of the chairs by the kitchen island. "Okay," Tommy chuckles amused, and starts to sit down. His butt isn't fully down on the chair before Buck bursts out with "I'm the himbo!"

Fully sitting down, Tommy looks at Buck slightly confused. "What?"

"From your story last night, I'm the himbo. I'm sorry I didn't say anything last night I was just a little shocked that your Abby was my Abby, like what are the chances? I knew her ex was named Tommy but it never occurred to me that it could be you, not even for half a second did I see that coming"

Tommy grabbed onto Buck's hand and gave it a little squeeze. "Evan, what? Are you sure? Please take a breath," he says, his mind trying to catch up with everything Buck was saying.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he opened his photo gallery where he had found some pictures from his time with Abby, and handed the phone over. "I'm sure"

Tommy opened and closed his mouth as he scrolled through a few photos. "Wow, yeah, that's Abby alright," he put the phone down and looked at Buck. "Crazy right?! It freaked me out a little when I realized but in a weird way it makes me feel closer to you," Buck shrugged.

Tommy tilted his head slightly before he leaned forward. "Obviously if I had known it was you I wouldn't have used that word. You do know I do not think that you are a himbo," he reassured Buck, and put a hand on his thigh.

Buck chuckled. "Oh, but I was. I really was before I met Abby. My relationship with her was one of the most transformative relationships I've ever had. My relationship with you being the most transformative" He took a little break and smiled as he picked up Tommy's hand and held it.

"I think one of the reasons I'm so comfortable with you is because you're so comfortable and confident with yourself and who you are. I went my whole life not knowing who I was, always questioning everything but then I met you. And you saw me for me, and I see you" Buck has to stop for a second before he continues.

"I want us to move in together" Buck smiles as he takes in Tommy's shocked face. "I want to take the next step with you. I'm not saying we have to get married or even get engaged or anything, it's just why be apart when we can be together?"

"Evan," Tommy said softly and shook his head bemused. He looks like he's about to say something more but instead, he stood up and put his hands on Buck's neck, and pulled him in for a passionate kiss.

Taking this as a good sign, Buck grabbed onto Tommy's t-shirt and closed his eyes as he eagerly reciprocated the kiss. He was slightly breathless when Tommy pulled back.

"Okay," Tommy whispered, looking into Buck's eyes. "Y-yeah?" "Yeah," Tommy smiled. "Okay," Buck replied with a slight nod. Using his hold on Tommy's t-shirt to tug him closer, he let out a relieved sound as Tommy's lips were back on his.

Soon he can feel Tommy's hold on his neck tighten, drawing a moan out of him. He pushes himself closer to Tommy by standing up and putting his hands on Tommy's waist. "Tommy" Buck whimpers and presses his crotch against him.

Tommy smirks. "You know, we should probably get that Uber now. Wouldn't want to miss the movie" he teases.

Buck shakes his head quickly. "Noo, no movie," he looks wide-eyed back at Tommy. "No? But you've been begging me to go see this Venom movie for ages" he continued teasing.

"Changed my mind" Buck replied quickly and kissed Tommy eagerly, trying to get him to kiss him back. "Tommy, please" he whimpered when he barely moved.

"What do you want Evan?" Tommy asked him. "Hmm? Use that pretty little mouth of yours and tell Daddy what you want" and fuck, Buck's brain stops working for a moment before it finally reboots.

"Please, Daddy, want you! Touch me, use me, fuck me, please" Buck begged as he moved his hands to Tommy's belt buckle.

Tommy pressed his mouth back against Buck's while running his hands down to this ass. As he squeezed Buck's ass hard with his hands, he moaned, gave him a little slap before pulling back.

"Clothes, off, now," he ordered before he went to get the little bottle of lube they had stashed into one of the kitchen drawers for situations like this. Pleased to see that Buck had complied quickly and so eagerly, Tommy pulled the chairs away before bending Buck over the counter.

Buck shivered and tried to spread his legs as much as he could, a flush coming to his cheeks. He looked back at Tommy as he heard him uncap the lube, taking a sharp breath as Tommy poured some onto his fingers.

Tommy stepped closer and used one hand to spread Buck's cheeks apart while he rubbed his lubed-up fingers over his hole.

Squirming, Buck arched back towards him while whimpering. "Daddy" he begged when Tommy only teased the fingers over his hole and around his rim.

"You're so pretty like this, baby," Tommy said as he eased one fingertip in. "So responsive. So willing. Such a good boy for Daddy aren't you?" Buck nodded and moaned at the feeling of Tommy stretching him. "Wanna be good for you always" he mumbled back.

Tommy grinned and started to push in a second finger, opening Buck slowly and thoroughly. "You know, when we move in together it will be so much easier to play with you more. Can wake you up with my cock every morning, get you on your knees while watching TV, edge you every night before we go to sleep"

Resting his head on his forearms, Buck felt the warmth in his cheeks as the images filled his head. He whimpered as felt his cock leaking and his asshole tighten around Tommy's fingers. "Fuck, please, just fuck me, please"

Pulling his fingers out of Buck, Tommy got his cock out and used the lube left on his fingers to wet his cock before lining it up with Buck's entrance and slowly started to push in.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, daddy, please" Buck rambled as he squeezed his eyes shut, clawing at the counter uselessly to get a grip. It was such a special exhilarating pain and he loved it.

"So fucking tight, baby" Tommy uttered as he pushed in the last bit and was fully inside him. Scraping his nails down Buck's back, he licked his lips at the welts they left behind. Grasping Buck's hips, he pulled his cock back till just the tip was inside before slamming back in, ripping a scream from Buck.

"Going to make the neighbors call the cops with screams like that, baby" Tommy smirked as he did it again.

Letting out another scream, Buck whimpered. "Feels too good. Can't help it" he gasped as he braced himself on his elbows and glanced back at Tommy.

Deciding Buck was far too coherent, he tightened his grip on his hips as he started to really thrust in and out fast and hard.

Moaning loudly over and over again, Buck couldn't keep his eyes open as Tommy split him open. Reaching down for his cock, he managed to give it a few strokes before Tommy grabbed his hand and forced it behind his back. "Pleasee" he breathed. "Daddy, please"

"Shhh, Daddy's going to take care of you" Tommy panted as he kept slamming into him. "Daddy always takes care of his baby boy, doesn't he? Always reward you for taking my cock so good"

Buck nodded quickly before yelping as Tommy let go of his hand in favor of grabbing his hair and yanking him upright. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, daddy!" he moaned loudly as Tommy wrapped one arm around his waist and the other around his cock.

"Please, so close" Buck whimpered as Tommy thrust in deep and he started to pump his cock. "Been so good for you, daddy please, need to cum, please" he begged as he felt the familiar tightening deep in his stomach as Tommy stroked his cock quickly.

"Cum for me, Evan" Tommy whispered into his ear. Throwing his head back against Tommy's shoulder Buck let out a strangled scream, grasping onto Tommy's hands as he cummed hard all over the kitchen island.

Tommy gave Buck two seconds to recover before he pushed him back onto the counter and fucked him hard, chasing his own orgasm. He just needed a few more deep and hard thrusts before he let out a loud moan as he filled Buck with his cum.

"Fucking Christ" Tommy panted as he did a few slow thrusts before pulling out, ignoring Buck's protests. Putting himself away, Tommy stroked Buck's back gently. "Let's get you up, baby boy" he said softly.

Buck grasped onto his hand as he stood up, his legs feeling a little shaky.

"How you feeling?" Tommy asked as he looked him over, stroking his fingers over the red spots on Buck's hips that had rubbed against the counter edge.

"Mmm, so good, Daddy," Buck replied as he leaned in to kiss him softly. "Thank you, Daddy,"

Smiling, Tommy looked at Buck. "Go upstairs and start the shower baby. First I clean up the mess on the counter and then Daddy will clean the mess off of you" "Yes, Daddy"

-

Please send in more prompts, we can get messier than this.

[bamboobooshark]

WILL GRAHAM • ❄️

Too Cold || 820 Words || P.G. Rating || Fandom: Hannibal (2013)

Author’s Note: I have another Will Graham fic in my drafts already, but I have more motivation to write this first. I’m excited to see how this post does since I recently got into Hannibal and really wanted to write something with Will. Enjoy!

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CONTENT WARNINGS: No mentions of Will’s nightmares, Will is sensory seeking but also needs cuddles, Reader can use their arms/upper body (momentary scene), Reader moves around but with no description how exactly (no mention of legs), Reader is in a romantic relationship with Will, uses of the pet name sweetheart.

The snow usually didn’t get this thick, but today you were thankful for it. The powder blanketed the ground outside so heavily that no one could go anywhere. You and Will decided to stay in and relax together. The two of you agreed to sleep in the living room on the pull out couch while the dogs slept on the floor. The fire crackled softly and dimly lit the room that was nearly sun blocked. You had brought your own individual blankets to wrap up in because Will insisted. He hated the idea of getting you drenched in his sweat just so you could cuddle him. You thought it was a fair trade; hold him in your arms and make him feel safe in exchange for something you could easily fix in the middle of the night. You didn’t like to push him, though.

You sat yourself up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes. You looked around the room and counted each of the dogs to ensure they were all here. You sighed deeply while taking in your surroundings. It was peaceful—every aspect of the moment you were in. Will slept peacefully for once, the dogs breathed deeply, the fire gave off a pinch of heat, and the snow fell heavy outside with the whipping of the wind. A soft smile crawled onto your lips. You stretched, preparing to get out of bed. You looked down at your sleeping lover and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A heartbeat later, you’re slowly dragging yourself out of the pull-out couch.

Once you get yourself steady, a few of the dogs get up to come greet you. You whisper sweet greetings and wish them each a good morning. You make your way towards the kitchen to the dog treat jar. You tap the ceramic lightly so as not to disturb Will. The last few dogs who were either sleeping or chose to stay lying down came to you. You gave each of them their gingerbread treats and sent them to go lay down once more. The house continues to stay quiet as you walk into the pantry in search of something to eat. You hum softly before grabbing a pop-tart from one of the shelves.

The springs from the pull-out bed squeak awfully, causing you to emerge from the pantry as soon as you could. You spot Will looking at you with tired eyes. “What?” you ask with a soft chuckle. He looks at you, slightly annoyed. You should know by now what he wants. “Come back. I’m cold,” he said blankly. You nod your head in agreement as you head to the bed. “You’re taking an unreasonable amount of time,” he complained to you. “I’m working on it,” you say in a sing-song voice.

The second your thighs touch the edge of the bed, Will clings his arms around your waist and pulls him toward you. You squeal and smack at his arm playfully. “Will Graham! Get your hands off of me right now!” you said as you smiled so hard your cheeks started to hurt. “I never want to let you go, though. Espically not in this sort of weather,” he told you as he pulled you so his chin lined up with your shoulder. Your entire body shivered as you felt the tip of his cold nose touch your skin. He breathed you in deeply, resulting in him becoming completely still, besides his chest rising and falling. “You soothe me so well,” he praised gently. The arms that circled your waist squeezed a bit tighter as if they might loose you. You wriggled to be closer to his chest and settled once you were. His hand slowly traced circles on your stomach. It was so quiet you could hear the soft scratching of his fingers against the fabric of your shirt.

Your silent peace is soon interrupted when Will turns to lay on his back, bringing you with him. You gasp from the shock, at a complete loss for words. Will chuckles as you take a few deep breaths. “Why would you do that?” you ask in utter confusion. “I needed your weight on top of me,” he said plainly with a shrug. You sigh in slight annoyance—but you’re always glad to provide the stimulation your lover needs if it helps him stay calm and focused. He leans forward and kisses your forehead gently. “I had to return the favor,” he whispered. You chuckle once you realize what he was referring to. You kissed him back on the cheek, and he raised his eyebrows in amusement. “I’m assuming that’s a request for another kiss,” he observed before returning it. You two continue kissing each other back and forth, keeping warm from the blushing and your bodies pressed together, safe from the snowy weather outside.

The universe is good to you today. It’s been good to you every day since you met Will.

[azrielwingspan]

THE CYBORG WHO STOLE MY HEART (Bucky X F!reader)

A/N: I know I know, there's another Bucky fanfic that I'm already working on and yet here I am starting a whole new one. Why you ask? Because I'm a dumbass. The idea just popped up into my head and I HAD TO write it down. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 1 :

Chapter summary: Bucky and Sam come across a woman who seems to have lost her mind. Literally. Using Bucky’s cyborg brain, they try to figure out who she is.

Chapter warnings: Mild swearing.

You know when you're having a great dream with a hot guy that could only possibly exist in dreams ? The happiness that breathing the same air as him brings you? That's what you were feeling right now.

Eyes as blue as the ocean, veins that were easy to put an IV in and that black shirt phew. Was it possible to drool in dreams? You were going to have a great day once you woke up. That was for sure.

Why was he looking at you like that though? Weren't they supposed to be flirting with you or puckering their lips in your dreams by now? Was this supposed to be a slow burn or enemies to lovers genre dream?

"Why is she staring at me like that?" the hot guy asks the air next to him.

"She's just coming into it, give her a second." it responds back to him.

Wait, what ?

"Are we sure she's alright and not having an absence seizure?" the air voice asks.

"She's alright. Probably in shock." another voice responds.

Shock? From seeing that beautiful man in front of me? Sure.

Okay, focus.

Wait, it's a dream. Why do you need to focus?

Eyes, the colour of piss , come into focus. "Cannn youuu hearrr meee?"

"Why are you speaking like that?" you manage to ask, still trying to figure out if you'd accidentally taken shrooms.

"Not a seizure then." the voice from earlier comments.

Piss eyes looks proud of himself. "I told you, she's in shock."

If this really was a dream, it would have to be the strangest one you have had in a while. What in the actual cockfuck was happening?

"Youu areee in theee hosp-ee-taalll. Weee---" piss eyes sounded like he was having the seizure.

"Stop talking like that." you say, blinking rapidly to clear the dark spots from your eyes. Things were starting to feel more...real. A heaviness settled over your head, every breath seemed to send a slight sliver of pain through your side and your arm felt numb.

Dreams weren't usually ultra-realistic, were they? Only one way to find out now.

"Is she...pinching herself?" hot guy asks, that strange look on his face.

A set of cold hands clamp your hands down.

"HEY." you say, the slight sting of your pinch confirming your doubts.

"Self hurt or mutilation can be a side effect. We need to restrain her for her own safety." Piss eyes speaks rapidly and you hear him muttering to himself.

"I'm not...is this not a dream?" you finally ask leaving the room in pin drop silence.

"I don't think so...unless Wanda is upto something again." air voice sounds a bit unsure himself.

"Wanda?" the name seemed familiar but in this state , you could barely remember your own name.

You try to get up only to be gently pushed back down by piss eyes. "You probably shouldn't be doing that. Bed rest for the next 10 days, I'm afraid." he says not sounding apologetic about it at all.

"What even happened? And---" you're cut off by air voice.

"Where are you? Well, the Avengers compound. Now, don't get too excited and all. We can make you sign a NDA , but we aren't going to because we're hoping you're trustworthy. Stark said you might be...useful. Now, if you're feeling upto it, how the hell did you end up in the middle of a cemetry half dead?"

You blinked once, twice, thrice.

"Who is Stark?"

"Listen, man. She's got to be living under a rock if she doesn't know who Stark is. That guy has been stuffed down everyone's fucking throat." Sam tells Bucky as he takes off he looks at their new visitor.

Bucky doesn't respond and instead stares at Sam with a poker face.

"What's going on in that cyborg brain of yours?" Sam isn't phased by Bucky and his staring anymore. He was however very sure that Bucky would not be bringing home any ladies with that serial killer look.

"What if she's lying?" Bucky finally says, turning to look at the CCTV recording of the room you were in. You were sleeping again, knocked out by the pain killers.

"Lying about not knowing Stark or not being able to remember what happened to her?"

"Both."

"What purpose does that serve her?"

"Well, that's what we're supposed to find out."

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?” Crossing his arms over his chest , Sam raised an eyebrow at his cyborg friend.

“I’ll think about it.” Bucky walked past him, grabbing his jacket on the way. “With my cyborg brain.”

“I understand that you want to get some answers” you said for what seemed like the 100th time, exasperation taking hold of you. “I honestly cannot remember what happened. I’ve thought myself into a headache. I’m sorry, okay?”

Sam looked defeated as he let he shook his head. “It’s been two whole days. Now, I don’t want to seem like a dick and question you in this state but we need some goddamn answers.”

“Too late for that I guess.” you muttered under your breath.

“Huh?”

“She said ‘too late for that I guess.’” The hot guy, Bucky, was his name chimed in.

How the hell did he hear that? As if reading the question on your face, he simply said “Advanced hearing.”

Okkayyyy.

Sam on the other hand was giving you a flat look. You gave him one back.

“I’m feeling much better now. Can I atleast get out of this damn bed?” you scratched near the iv line, wanting to just rip it out. “Piss eyes told me I shouldn’t but I cannot stay like this.”

“Piss eyes?” Sam was clearly running out of patience.

“The doc. Is he even a doctor? He’s very…”

“Sort of.”

That explains it.

“She’s right.” Bucky takes a step forward, looking at Sam. “Walking around will help her recover faster.”

“THANK YOU. See , I knew you were the smart one.” you give him a wide smile to which you get a poker face in return. Embarrassing. Not letting it deter you, you pull the iv out.

“Hey !!” Sam steps forward, surprised at your show of stupidity.

Before he can reach you to help you out of bed, you’ve already stood up. Which was another stupid move considering that the entire room was spinning around. Holding on to the wall next to you for support, you blinked rapidly.

“That’s another concussion waiting to happen.” Bucky commented dryly.

After regaining some semblance of direction, you managed to stand up straight ignoring the slight stab of pain in your chest.

“Much better.” you say, taking a step forward. The pastel pink tee and pants that had been given to you did not compliment your current condition, you knew. To be quite frank, you were a good looking woman too. Always have been. Then why the hell was Bucky looking at you like he was going to stab you right then and there?

“Uhhh…now what?” your suddenly felt extremely awkward in front of the two men.

“Don’t ask me, you were the one who wanted to do this.” Sam still had an arm out, ready to jump into action in case you cracked your head on the tiles again. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bucky make a slight movement. Thank fuck you did because the next thing you knew , you were holding a dagger 2 inches away from your chest by the handle.

Silence engulfed the room for a good 20 seconds before it was broken by a very calm “What. The. Fuck.” from Sam.

You looked at Bucky who stood in the same spot like nothing shocking had even happened. Finally a crack of a smile appeared on his face.

“Told you she was lying.”