#i want things to be done to me but not really just in my head only

[bonkwrites]

OBSESSED with the whole american x 141 man combo. smut ahead!

Not necessarily giving up your identity when you move out of the US, just wanting to explore different cultures and see new things. Then you meet one of the boys, maybe it’s Kyle or Johnny, and they introduce you to your actual, literal husband within a week of knowing you. And Simon Riley isn’t a bad guy, they tell you, just a little rough around the edges. And you’re young, in a new country, you flew on a plane for the first time to get here and it didn’t go down so you feel invincible– and you fuck Simon Riley. 

The mask isn’t even in the equation, he won’t wear it when he’s not on a mission or on base, and he’s got a scar on his cheek that’s textured when you grab his face and kiss him. He tastes like bourbon. You taste like vodka and lime. He lays you down on your hotel mattress and spreads your legs and calls you love while he’s fucking you. 

“Fuck, lovie, like that. Take it like that.” you thought maybe the accent would make it too funny to be sexy but there might be something to be said about pavlov’s dog and the bell here…. 

He’s so big and so on top of you and he’s pushing your legs to your chest to pin you underneath him while he fucks you. You feel sorry for the other people on the floor the next morning but in moment all you can think is Simon, Simon, Simon and all you can do is beg him don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop– 

You’re so happy you got your IUD before you started traveling. 

Simon says sometimes he thinks he did it in the wrong order. You fucked and then he took you out to dinner. You tell him sometimes you wish he would have let you ride him that night. He remedies your wishes immediately, all the time. 

Did you know there’s only one Taco Bell in all of England? You crave chalupa’s so intensely that you once rode a train for an hour and a bus for three just to have the worst Taco Bell of your life. Did you know that almost 50% of Americans own a gun or are proficient with one? Color 141 the most surprised they’ve ever been when you go to a gun range while they’re stationed in Texas and Simon tries to teach you gun safety but you correct him the entire time. 

“I used to go hunting with my dad, Si, I know this.” and then you have decently good grouping that’s just a little to the left and Johnny tries to show you how it’s really done and– misses entirely. 

“Is that how it’s done, Johnny?” you taunt, smiling so cheekily that Simon can’t keep his own smile off his face. 

“Listen up, bonnie, I’ve done more training-” 

“Doesn’t seem like it to me.” you mumble. Simon swear he can see the steam coming out of Johnny’s ears. 

“Lass, so help me God, if you don’t-” 

“Poor baby, Johnny,” you frown, still taunting him, your hips sway as you walk up to him and take his face into your hands, “Did you get beat in a shooting contest by a civvie? Will you live to see another day?”  You shake his head in your hands and Johnny goes red for a completely different reason than his pride and anger. Johnny’s hands twitch, Simon can see him reaching for your sides as you release his face and step away from him. Soon, Simon wants to tell him, she’s going to tell you soon.

[cherrygirlfriend]

the cons of long nails pairing: reader x stepbro!rafe synopsis: rafe's stepsister has acrylics on and can't touch herself so he helps her warnings: smut, oral (fem receiving) MDNI! wc: 700it's the second day of my birthday week celebration! was this inspired by me doing my own acrylics and being unable to do anything with them? mayhaps. real ones know the struggle (˶˃⤙˂˶) below are the kind of nails i picture her to have!! she’s a lilac princess ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

your freshly manicured nails were digging into the skin of his shoulders; loud whines escaping your lips as rafe's were slowly making their way down your body; leaving a trail of warmth every time his lips made contact with your bare skin, small gasps escaping you whenever he nipped at your skin.

"quit whining..." rafe groaned into the skin of your abdomen, before he lifted his head slightly, the blonde's half-lidded eyes looked up at you, his pupils blown out, a small grin creeping up his lips, "or i'm gonna stop right now."

"you won't." you said with pursed lips, no confidence in your voice, causing him to grip your thighs tightly, his eyes narrowing as a wicked grin overtook his lips.

"are you sure you wanna test that?" your stepbrother grabbed one of your wrists, looking at your nails, "just had to get your nails done so now you can't even please yourself, hm? had to come to beg your stepbrother to help you."

"i didn't beg..." you mumbled, your face feeling hot with embarrassment.

"oh, really?" rafe snorted, "rafeyy, please, i got my nails done but 'm really horny, can you help me?" he spoke, mocking your tone and the earlier words you used on him, causing you to try and turn your head to hide your face, only for him to roughly grab you by your chin, making you look at him. "don't turn away from me. you're gonna stop whining, aren't you?"

his tone left no room for argument, so you simply nodded, letting out a timid, "yes." as you leaned back on the bed, rafe letting go of your wrist, his lips continuing their descent to your aching pussy, the blonde's long fingers slipping under the waistband of your soaked panties.

the time it took him to slide your panties down your legs was almost tortuous, rafe no doubt making sure to go as slow as possible, wanting every part of you craving and aching for him.

he pushed apart your legs, a trail of wet kisses pressed on your inner thigh while you held your breath in anticipation for when you'd finally feel him where you needed to; your head starting to feel dizzier the longer he took.

but when his tongue flicked at your puffy clit, your breath escaped your throat, mixing in with a moan you'd been holding back. rafe chuckled, the sound causing vibrations to run through your body, shivers climbing down your spine.

without even giving you a moment of respite, his tongue gathered up some of the wetness from your entrance, bringing it to your clit as his lips attached themselves to the swollen bud.

you arched into his touch, gripping his hair as moans and whimpers left your lips, each flick of his tongue on your clit causing another flash of electricity to crawl up your spine as he sucked on it, drawing out sensations you hadn't experienced before that moment.

rafe was gripping your thighs so roughly you were sure it'd leave bruises in the shape of his hands. still, you couldn't bring yourself to care, not when your eyesight was blurry just from having his lips around your clit, not when the burning feeling in your abdomen was so strong even though he'd only been attacking your clit for minutes; not when you didn't even have any concept of time thanks to him.

you were trying to moan his name, but your brain was so muddled by the things he was making you feel, you weren't quite sure what you let out of your mouth, but rafe still knew the moment you came by the loud whine and the tightened grip on his shoulders, all the while you were clenching around nothing.

when your panting had turned into only slightly quickened breathing, rafe pulled back, straightening his body as his body covered your own, a self-satisfied smirk on his face at the blissed-out expression you were sporting; and before you could say anything, he brought his lips to yours, letting you taste yourself.

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[cazort]

This is such a great post and I want more people to read it. You articulate a lot of things that I've experienced, better than I've been able to.

I want to add one thing, which is that, under the guise of "many feminist men have no friends", I am nonbinary but was living closeted, as male, for most of my life and still am often seen as such. And some people, including both women and "feminist" men, can be really, really nasty to me when I express even the slightest disagreement with something that they have framed in feminist language, even if the sentiment itself is deeply regressive.

Examples include:

(a) disagreeing or speaking out against statements like "men are scum" or "men or trash"

(b) disagreeing with or speaking out against other negative overgeneralizations about men

(c) disagreeing with statements or defending men when a woman makes a remark that reads negative intent in his action, even in cases where I know the man and know that that was not his intent.

Some examples of this reading of negative intent include:

(1) people thinking a man is coming from a place of misogyny because he is intimidated by a woman (i.e. they assume he is intimidated by her intelligence and want women to be "dumb" or intimidated by her assertiveness and want women to be passive, but in reality the man is intimidated because the woman wields a great deal more social power than the man, i.e. often it's a woman of high socioeconomic status, or a woman who is well-connected in a subculture, and the man is of a lower socioeconomic status and/or is an outsider in the specific subculture, so the women are shaming men for perceived "misogyny" when in reality the women are actually acting out classism towards the man.

(2) a man oversteps a boundary of a woman in a way that she feels uncomfortable with, it could be something like how he looks at her, something he says to her, or a way he touches her. the woman assumes the intent was to make the woman uncomfortable and/or exert power over her. but in reality the man never wanted to make her uncomfortable and he would have never done what he did had he known the woman would have reacted negatively. the actual cause of the overstepping of boundaries can be diverse, it could be autism leading to poor reading of social norms or cues, cultural differences leading to different social expectations and norms, or just individual preferences (the man has had most women before like or respond well to the behavior, and this woman is just different), or it could be social anxiety (the man is anxious and is "lost in his head" and in doing so, overlooks or misreads social cues the woman thinks are obvious), and here's the most aggravating thing, often the woman is intentionally withholding any verbal or even nonverbal expressing of boundaries, like trying to act "nice" and "polite" either intentionally or unintentionally because women are often socialized that way in our society.

These sorts of things happen frequently, but I've noticed that it's totally taboo for men (or rather, anyone perceived as men) to challenge them. When I have done this, I've often gotten a disproportionate amount of hostility directed at me. I have people use harsh negative language, like calling me a "potential rapist" or a "rape apologist" if I say something very mild or gentle like: "Do you think there could have been any cultural differences that led this man to act the way he did?" or "Are you sure that he was able to accurately read your cues and that he didn't just accidentally misread you?" And when I say things like: "Did you try expressing the boundary to him verbally?" people practically explode at me, escalating to language talking about violence, like talking about being afraid of the man killing her, things like that, and then implying that I want women to get murdered and condemning me for it.

It's absolute batshit the way people can react.

So it's not just right-wing circles that can be hostile to men, it's a lot of left-wing circles as well.

Thankfully, I've found great social circles where my friends aren't like this. But it's a serious problem and I want people talking about it.

Thank you for your post!

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[bsturnzmtts]

Let me show you- Matt Sturniolo

Re uploaded because my account bsturnzmtt got deactivated :( Please follow and let me know if you want to be in my tag list !

Paring: bsf! Matt x bsf! Reader

Contains/warnings: smut, kissing, oral f receiving, slight overstimulation, almost caught?

Summary: Your best friend Matt finds out no has gone down on you before, so he decides to show you how good it feels…

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

You and your friends rented a cabin for the summer. It was a very nice cabin and everyone got their own room. All the girls in the cabin decided to go shopping, but you stayed because you weren’t feeling so well. Right now you are in the living with the rest of the guys. You’re on a couch on your phone not really paying attention to their conversation.

“Hey guys, do you think girls actually enjoy getting eaten out, so do they pretend like they do?” Someone randomly asks.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure they enjoy it.” Matt says.

“What if they just pretend because guys like it?” Someone else says.

“Mh I’ve never thought about it.” Another person says.

“Guys, they obviously enjoy it.” Matt says.

“You think?” A guy asks.

“Yeah! Hey y/n!” Matt says.

You raise your head when you hear your name, coming out of your own world. “Mh? Yeah?”

“Do girls actually enjoy when guys go down on them or do they pretend they like it?” Matt asks.

You get a bit flustered by the question. “Oh- I have no idea… I’ve never experienced it.” You say.

Matt chuckles a bit, trying to make things less awkward. “Well, in my experience, most girls seem to enjoy it.”

Everyone goes back to their previous conversation, and you go back to your phone. But Matt eyes stay glued to you, his mind racing with many thoughts, being surprised no one has had a taste of you in that way.

After a while everyone decided to go get some groceries that were missing.

“I’ll pass on this one guys, I think I’m gonna go take a nap or something.” You say and start heading upstairs.

“Matt you coming?” Someone asks.

“What? Uhmm no, no I think I’ll stay here.” He says.

As you make your way upstairs, Matt's gaze follows you. The rest of the group files out of the house and piles into a car to go shopping. Once you hear their car pull away, Matt gets up and makes his way over to the staircase.

You go into your room.

Matt quietly creeps up the stairs, his footsteps barely making a sound on the creaky wood. He pauses outside your door, taking a deep breath before gently turning the handle and pushing it open. The room is dimly lit, with soft afternoon sunlight streaming through the blinds.

“Oh hey, I thought you went with the rest of the guys.” You say.

Stepping inside, Matt says, "Nah, I wanted to stay behind." He takes a moment to observe you, admiring your figure as you lay there. “I thought I'd stay here and keep you company.”

“Cool” you say and pat on the bed on the spot next to you.

Matt walks over to the bed, sitting down gently beside you. He gazes at you, studying your features. He reaches out and carefully tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his hand linger briefly on the curve of your cheek. “The guys you’ve been with are probably assholes.” He suddenly says with a chuckle.

You chuckle. “What?” You ask with confusion.

“I mean… for never going down on you.” He pauses for a moment. “Or are you a virgin?” He asks.

“Noo no I’m not, they’ve just never done it, and I’ve never really asked for it.” You respond.

“That’s the thing, you shouldn’t have to ask for it. If the guy really cares about your pleasure, they would do it.” He says looking at you. “That’s why I’m telling you, the guys that you’ve been with are probably assholes and only care for their pleasure.” He says with a chuckle.

“Mh, I guess you’re right. I mean the guys I’ve been with recently, weren't like good y’know. And I didn’t get to…” you confess.

“You didn’t get to cum?” He asks surprised.

You shake your head.

“Maybe that’s why you seem so anxious and stressed out. You need to unwind.” He chuckles.

You laugh at his comment. “Shut up.”

Matt laughs along with you, a warm genuine laugh that slowly fades leaving a fond smile on his face. His gaze softens as he looks at you, leaning slightly closer. “Let me show you.”

Your breath hitches at his words. “What?”

Matt softly runs his fingers through your hair, looking at you with a soft expression. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.” He gently traces the outer edge of your lips with his thumb, a faint smirk playing around the corner of his mouth. “I don’t have to get anything in return. I promise it'll be worth it.” He says, his voice taking on a slightly husky timbre. “You don’t have to do anything, just lay back.”

Your heart rate quickens. “Matt I-“

Matt gently presses his fingers against your lips, silencing your words. His eyes gleaming with mischief. “Shhhh.” A small smirk plays around the corner of his mouth as he gently pushes you down on the bed. “Let me take care of you.”

Matt slowly leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, exploratory kiss. His hand gently cradles the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a slow, sensual dance.

You quickly melt into his kiss and start kissing back.

A pleased hum escapes Matt as he responds eagerly to your kiss. His hand gently trails down your side, coming to rest on the curve of your waist.

Matt gently trails his lips down the curve of your neck, a soft sigh escaping you as he does so. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your side, causing small shivers to run down your spine.

Matt smirks at your gasp, his lips moving lower down your body. He takes his time, worshipping every inch of skin he reveals with his mouth and hands. He loves the sounds you make, the way your body reacts to his touch. His hands go down to the hem of your shirt and start lifting it up.

Matt looks up at you, a soft smile on his face as he sees the look on your face. His hands continue moving up your body, slowly lifting your shirt along with them. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the exposed skin on your stomach. Matt's lips leave a trail of small kisses up your stomach, finally reaching the edge of your bra. His hands come up to cup your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leans in to kiss the exposed skin around the edge. You lift up a little for him to unclasp your bra. Matt's hands move behind you, his fingers quickly finding the clasp of your bra. He unhooks it, pulling the garment away from your body. His hands return to cup your breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze as he leans in to press a soft kiss to each nipple.

You gasp as you feel his lips on your nipples. “Mmh”

Matt smirks at your response, his tongue darting out to flick at your nipple. He hears your moan and knows that you're enjoying this as much as he is. His hands wander lower, slipping under the waistband of your pants.

Matt leans back to give himself room to work, his fingers quickly finding the button and zipper of your pants. He undoes them, slowly pulling your pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. His eyes never leave yours, the entire time, a small smirk on his face the whole time.

Matt's hands run up and down the insides of your thighs, slowly spreading them apart. He leans in, his eyes seeking out yours for permission before he presses a kiss to your clit.

“Mmh.” You moan and arch your back.

Matt smiles at your response, your moan only encouraging him to keep going. He continues to place soft kisses to your clit, occasionally slipping his tongue out to flick at it. His hands continue to rub up and down your thighs, his fingers occasionally brushing against your entrance teasingly. “Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Matt chuckles at your breathy response, pleased with the effect he's having on you. He gently pushes your legs further apart, giving him more access. His tongue delves between your folds, lapping at your juices before focusing on your clit again. “Goddamn, you taste amazing”

“Mmh oh god Matt” you moan.

Matt's ego swells at your breathy exclamation. A small smirk plays on his lips as he continues to feast on you, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. His fingers slip inside you, curling against your walls in search of that sweet spot.

“Mhhh” you moan and whimper.

Matt hums against you, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through your body. He increases the pace of his tongue, alternating between long, slow laps and quick flicks against your clit. His fingers continue to move in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot inside that makes your hips buck against his face. “Fuck, I could eat you out forever.”

“Mmhp Matt.” You whimper.

Matt groans against your pussy at the way you say his name, your moans are music to his ears. Matt looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, before returning his attention to your pussy. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks gently, his tongue still teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Matt's tongue continues to tease you, his fingers moving in and out of you with steady rhythm. His other hand comes up to cup your breast, squeezing gently as he feels your nipple.

“Matt mmh I’m close.” You moan.

Matt's pace quickens at your words, his tongue lashing against your clit as he feels you tensing up. He can feel your orgasm building, and the thought of making you come undone sends a surge of excitement through him.

“Mmhp Matt.” You let out as you cum.

Matt laps at your clit furiously as you cum, his fingers still pumping in and out of you. He sucks hard on your clit, drawing out every last ripple of your orgasm. “You taste so fucking sweet.”

“Mh fuck.” You whimper.

Matt continues to lap at your pussy, his tongue still buried in your folds as he helps you ride out the aftershocks of your climax.

“Matt, too much.” You moan.

When you finally go limp beneath him, he pulls back, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "sorry you taste so good," he says, his voice low and husky. His chin glistening with your juices. He slowly removes his fingers from you, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean.

"I could taste you all day." Matt says, his tone full of sincerity. He leans in and kisses you deeply, his tongue slipping into your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his lips. “Was that good?”

You smile and nod at him. “It was amazing, thank you.”

"I'm glad you enjoyed it as much as I did." Matt smiles back at you, clearly pleased with himself. He lies down beside you, pulling you against him and wrapping his arm around your waist. "You're so fucking beautiful when you come apart like that." He places a gentle kiss on your neck.

You guys stay like that for a moment until you hear noise coming from downstairs.

“I think they’re back already.” You say.

"Damnit, already?" Matt grumbles. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

Taglist: @blahbel668 @bernardsbendystraws @sturnzsblog @deffonotjae @suyqa @mattsturniololover1 @mattsturniolosgf @mattsturnihoe @annsx03 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @strnzzvsp @|34n @mattsfavbitchhh @chr1sgir|4life @yourenogoodforme-blog @mattshighway @lauren-222 @slvtformatts @megamorgan44 @sturnsxbith @pixiespax @xaristhings @slutforsturnioloss @ariestrxsh @sucretwin @tisiablack @sturniololover69 @lianomer @wakeupitschrizz @jessie-essie @freshlov3 @sturniolofreakk @lydi2718 @chrisstvrns @le4hsblog @pip4444chris @chris-hallelujah @esioleren @namelesssav @ilovemenwithlonghairr @ribread03 @valkatriee @sturniolofreakk @izzylovesmatt

[bonefall]

bones. bones they made moonpaw a schizophrenia and plurality stereotype. bones. bones help us

OH NO IS THAT WHY THERE'S 16 MESSAGES

I TURNED MY BACK FOR 5 MINUTES GREAT GOOGLY FUCKELING MOOGELY

I still have to finish reading Star (you have to forgive me for being a capital G Gamer who's been uber distracted) to gather together my final fair assessment, so I can start putting down the fragments for BB!ASC. But I WILL tell you this;

The whole Moonpaw Discourse from a couple of months ago really opened my eyes to just how pervasive intersexism and plurality stereotyping is, even in this space.

Not all of it is malice-- like many other cultural biases, people often just pick up negative stereotypes passively and don't realize they reflect poorly on real people. "Scary evil head voice" is one of them. Yes, intrusive thoughts exist (they are something I deal with), but it's about the snap, subconscious association between "voice in head" and "mental torment."

As the case and point; Look at how FAST the fandom conversation changed when the team first teased it. What was a fantastical, equal parts sincere love and horror exploration of shipping a cat with a magic pool morphed. Overnight, The Voice was an abusive thing, an expression of a dead baby who wanted to live, or a reincarnated monster, or another evil Ashfur-esque posession spirit.

Something bad, malicious, unwanted. By contrast, the voice of the moonpool was mostly portrayed as a supernatural yet good thing. Genuinely asking her for help.

(Part of me also ponders the religious angle of it. "Voices in my head" that come from God are generally much more socially acceptable than "Voices in my head" that come from the self. Regardless,)

So, as always, I Don't Rewrite Arcs Until They Are Done (I DRAU TAD, if you will), BUT... I know for certain that I will want to subvert this.

If Canon!Moonpaw must be a system, and we're all ready to buckle up and bunker down through how the Erins handle this one, then for BB!Moonpaw I'll try to do the same. But for my portrayal, I want to write her relationship with her headmate to be generally positive. Or at least more complicated and multifaceted.

One idea in particular I like is the thought that she absorbed a twin... but writing it as a chance the twin GETS to live, NOT a life denied. Death would have claimed them if they didn't become part of her. So, they love her-- of course they do. They're two souls with one heart.

The specifics will have to come with time. I need to see how her plurality impacts the plot, the overall story being told, plus wait to assess the criticisms that real systems and fusion chimeras in our fandom will have. But I can say with certainty that I would like to attempt my redux with the sad truth in mind that headmates in media are almost never approached as non-malicious. I'd like to do what I can to make a difference.

[hanniebaeee]

Welcome Home

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: nothing!

Genre: Flufff

Summary: Your boyfriend Hyunjin is so excited to take you home for the very first time. The catch? He's the King of the Underworld, and his home is well...the Underworld.

You stood in the middle of your bedroom, staring down at the pile of clothes you were desperately trying to pack. You had a suitcase open in front of you, but you're not really sure what to pack, really. Because someone wasn't being really helpful with this whole packing thing.

You throw a glance at Hyunjin, who stood leaning against your doorway, arms crossed, watching you.

Hyunjin. The King of the Underworld. Your very own boyfriend, who was bouncing off the walls completely excited for your trip to the Underworld for the very first time.

You'd be spending six months with him in his world, which was an agreement you two came to, to make this thing work. Especially since him being a God restricted his prolonged periods of absence from the underworld. 

"Are you almost done?" Hyunjin asked, his voice dripping with impatience as he came over and hovered over you like a shadow. 

“You could help me, you know,” You said dryly. “Do I need sweaters? Is your dungeon cold?”

“Excuse you, I don't live in a dungeon.” Hyunjin  scoffed dramatically, a hand on his hip. "You don't need a sweater. Actually you don't need half of what you're packing, trust me."

"Oh, I won’t? Then tell me what I should bring, Your Majesty," you said, raising an eyebrow as he discarded a sweater from your suitcase. "You won’t be cold because it's eternally warm where I live."

You threw up your hands in exasperation.

"Ok, fine, fine. What else?"

"Now, get rid of the rest. You won’t need anything." Hyunjin said as he plopped onto your bed, looking far too smug for someone who lived in a literal hellhole.

“Baby, can you please just-” You began, but Hyunjin groaned, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, nuzzling into your neck.

"You won’t need any of these clothes anyway," he mumbled, dismissing a pair of jeans you had just picked out. “It’s just us down there. You’ll be fine in your skin."

"Excuse me?" You shot him an incredulous look. "What do you mean, I won't need any clothes?!"

Hyunjin giggled, his hands wandering to your waist, pulling you closer.

"Well, if you really want to wear them..." He grinned, but then his smile softened. “But I think you’ll look better without them.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and tried not to smile. You were trying to resist, but the way he gazed at you made it impossible. Hyunjin knew exactly how to tame you.

“You're crazy,” You laugh, as he left soft kisses along the side of your neck.

“Darling, I’m the King of the Underworld. I’m prepared to have my Queen home. You really don't have to worry about anything.” He leaned down to kiss your cheek, just barely grazing your skin. "Trust me. It’s just us and Cerberus. Oh, and a few souls here and there…"

“Hyunjin, I'm genuinely worried now.” You managed, prying yourself off his grip. 

“Don't be!! Cerberus will be there to protect you. He's the best dog in the world.” Hyunjin’s face lit up as he spoke of his beloved pet. “You’ll love him.”

“Sure I will.” You said, narrowing your eyes at Hyunjin as he discreetly pushed a stack of clothes away from your suitcase. “YAH! STOP IT!”

“Ok, I'm done,” you finally announced, slamming the lid of your suitcase shut. You turned to face Hyunjin and found him lying on your bed with his arms tucked behind his head.

You barely had a moment to lift your suitcase before Hyunjin was by your side. And the transition from your bedroom to the underworld was...well…unexpected, to say the least. You were surrounded by an eerie, otherworldly glow - and then, everything was bathed in shadows and lit by flickering torches.

As soon as your feet touched the black stone floor of Hyunjin’s home, he held you close and murmured, “Welcome home, my queen,”

You rolled your eyes, even though your heart fluttered. Before you could respond, a deep growl cut through the air.

You froze, whipping your head to the side. There, standing just a few feet away, was Cerberus, Hyunjin’s very own baby - with his three heads, and the most terrifying growl you’d ever heard. Hyunjin grinned as he stepped forward and hugged the massive dog. 

“Cerby! There’s my boy! Look, it’s mummy!” Hyunjin called out excitedly. “Now, be a good boy and don’t scare her. We’re on a tight schedule here.”

And just like that, the beast started wagging its tail, all three heads giving you the most intense side-eye, but no longer growling.

“Come on, babe, don't be rude!” Hyunjin said, holding out his hand to you.

You could see how excited he is and you knew that he'd never put you in danger, so you take his hand, letting him pull you closer. 

Cerberus let out a low whine and nudged one of his massive heads against you. You froze for a moment, and then reached out to pet him. Surprisingly, his fur was soft under your fingers, and his eyes literally glowed with joy as you scratched behind one of his ears.

Hyunjin’s smirk returned as he watched you interact with his son.

“See? Told you he’s the goodest boy.” He said, kissing your cheek. “And, he’s got your back, babe. He’ll protect you from anything.”

“Protect me from what exactly?” you asked, still petting Cerberus.

“From me, of course,” Hyunjin said with a teasing wink, his hold on you tightening. “You know…so that I don't get carried away.”

You laughed, and said, “This is called digging your own grave, Hyunjin.”

Cerberus huffed and gave an exaggerated snarl, the middle head baring its teeth at Hyunjin’s proximity to you.

“He’s just protective. He’s never seen me like this before, you know.” he said, completely unbothered. 

You giggled, rubbing Cerberus's ear affectionately.

Hyunjin’s hands slid down your back and he pressed his lips against your neck.

“I’m so happy you're finally here, baby,” he said, his lips trailing down your throat, his hands now sliding over your waist, trying to pull you into him completely. His fingers caressed your jawline as he leaned down, his lips so close to yours. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Jinnie,” You whispered, and Hyunjin leaned in to capture your lips in a soft kiss. He hummed as your fingers ran through his hair, and just then Cerberus let out a deep, low growl.

Hyunjin (clearly frustrated now) shot him a look and said, “I’ve got this under control, Cerby.” 

You bit your lower lip to stop yourself from laughing as Hyunjin’s hands slid lower, stopping right on your butt, just as Cerberus gave a gentle nudge to your side.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and said, “I swear, you're such a cockblock.”

“He’s just trying to make sure I survive my first night here with you.” you said and Hyunjin laughed darkly, his eyes burning with mischief and desire.

“Oh, don’t worry, my queen.” He murmured, and kissed you again, slow and deep. “And believe me…you’re going to love it here with me.

As you walked through Hyunjin’s obsidian-tiled palace of shadow and flame, you couldn't help but admire the place. The tiles beneath your feet were lit by the golden glow of molten rivers that twisted like veins under the black floors.

Even as he led you to his bedroom, his hands moved down your back, and Cerberus let out a softer growl - almost like a sigh - as if he had given up on trying to stop Hyunjin.

“So what do you think?” He asked, stopping in front of a beautiful room. 

You gave an appreciating nod, and said, “I love it.”

“Yeah? You do? Are you happy?”

“What's not to love? I've got the sweetest dog and a completely unhinged god here to protect me. This is perfect.”

Hyunjin looked down at you with that wicked grin of his.

“Babe, you have no idea just how good this is going to be,” he said. 

And you couldn't help but agree

[prentisslvr]

NOT STRONG ENOUGH

summary: you got injured whilst on the job and spencer isn’t to pleased (post!maeve)

pairings: grumpy!spencer reid x sunshine!reader

genre: hurt/comfort?

warnings: mentions of maeve’s death, and canon complicit violence

authors note: i saw someone in the spencer reid tag ask about a fic like this and it gave me inspiration to write my own!!

you hadn’t noticed the tight grip spencer had on the steering wheel when he drove you and him home, nor did you notice his face; if looks could kill, the car that was driving extra slow in front of the two of you would’ve spontaneously combusted.

however you did notice, the slam of his door as he got out the car, his clenched jaw and avoidant gaze as he helped you out, with your broken leg and crutches.

you were used to spencer’s grumpiness, he’d had such a pessimistic view on life, and you didn’t know if it was the optimist in you, or the young naivety, but you had always thought you could fix him.

you had grown to fall in love with spencer in all his grumpiness.

you enjoyed getting to kiss away his angry pout and massage his scalp as he grumbled about how awful his day was.

you enjoyed getting to listen to his rants and just smile and kiss him and take all his problems away, being his source of comfort, like he was yours.

you always loved how even though he was so grumpy, he managed to reserve some sweetness for you, it made you feel so loved, so seen.

spencer on the other hand couldn’t believe he managed to have you as his girlfriend, after maeve, he wasn’t sure he was made for love, it wasn’t meant for him.

but you were meant for him.

he was immediately taken aback by you, the new intern at the bau, so bright and happy, he’d wondered what someone like you was doing at a job like this. someone so young, so happy, so optimistic.

he remembered thinking about how this job would tear you in half, like it did him.

he vowed not to let that happen.

but as he watched, helplessly as you tackled the unsub to the ground, and getting into a literal tussle, he was filled with so much anger, at the unsub, but mainly at himself.

he knew when he was new, he wanted to do his best to stop the bad guys, even if it meant putting himself in danger, he knew the sings of a reckless intern.

why didn’t he stop it.

now you were half black and blue, and walking around the house, well, less walking, more being carried around by spencer, and he really just wanted to scream.

“that was so stupid, you know that.”

you blink, the food on your for you were about to shovel into your mouth forgotten. “i’m sorry?” you say confused, dropping the fork, it clattered loudly against the plate.

“that stunt you pulled.” he gritted his teeth. “i mean, what were you thinking, that you were gonna save the day?” spencer asked, tilting his head in such a way that made you feel taunted.

almost, belittled.

“i was thinking about that girl.” you say, brows furrowing, “and how nobody was doing anything, we were just standing there waiting, negotiating, i saw an opportunity and i took it, the girl is safe now and he’s going to be locked up for the rest of his life.”

“you’re not a hero.” spencer scoffed. “you got lucky, what would you have done if you died out there?”

“nothing, because i’d be dead.” you say, as nice and as kind as you were, you had a quick mouth and it drove spencer insane. “what’s up with you, why are you so upset over this.”

“upset!” he slammed his fist against the table standing up, causing you to flinch, and some cutlery to fall on the floor, your heart thumped in your chest, you weren’t scared of spencer, you had faith he would never hurt you, but he’d never been thing angry with you before.

“i am not upset.” he spits out. “i am enraged at how after all this.. after, me, you could still go out there and risk your life like that! after all i’ve done to protect you!”

“protect me..” you stare at him through a glare standing up yourself. “i chose this job, spence, i chose this profession, i knew what came with it, and i do not need to be protected!”

spencer’s chest heaved as he stared at you, in silence.

“i-” you huff. “i knew the risks that came with the job spencer, and out in that field, i knew what i was risking, but it’s my life spencer. i’m perfectly aware of what i am doing.”

spencer closed his eyes and heaved out a long breath, pinching his nose. “you don’t get to make reckless decisions like that!” he screams clenching his fists. “not when it comes to your life.” he whispered softly, slowly sitting back in seat, as if he’d folded completely.

“i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you..” he says, licking his lips. “when.. when you think about losing someone you love, you can’t imagine it, what it would be like, but i can, because i have, i have lost someone, multiple people.” he says.

“in that moment, when i watched you tackle.. tackle that guy.” he squeezes his eyes shut, tears threatening to spill, as you watch him intensely. “i knew what it would be like spend the rest of my life without you, and i don’t think i’m strong enough to come to terms with that.”

spencer’s admission makes your chest hurt, it never occurred to you what something like taking a risk could do to him. spencer already had lost a lot, and you didn’t want to become a reason he loses another.

you step forward nudging his chin so his eyes were looking up into yours, his cheeks were wet with tears, and for the first time you didn’t see a grumpy man, a pessimistic man, you saw a man who’d had his heart broken far too often.

you gently stroke his cheek. “hey, i’m not going anywhere anytime soon, i’m an intern, today was just an off day.” i raise my brows. “i doubt i will be allowed in the field for a long time.”

he smiled, his eyes still red from tears. “i know you love your job, and i won’t try and stop you from doing it, but please, be careful, if not for you, then for me.”

“i’d do anything for you.” you say, kissing him on the lips. “i’ll be careful for you.”

[mywhisperingwords]

these three little words | fred g. weasley

summary: four times fred told you he loved you and one time he truly meant it word count: 3.6k masterlist

“You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”

Fred put a hand on his heart while saying, “You wound me greatly.”

Rolling your eyes, you kept walking, leaving him behind, “And yet you are still alive and well just to annoy me.”

Behind you, you could hear him snickering to himself before he caught up with you.

“Just you, my darling,” he told you, putting his arm around your shoulder, “besides, all I said was that your sudden interest in Potions was quite suspicious. For some unknown reason I doubt that you do it for George and me.”

He put his mouth close to your ear, his hot breath tickling your cheek and the sudden closeness made it hard for you to comprehend the next words he whispered, “One might wonder if some specific professor has anything to do with that.”

It took you a moment, but you finally realized what he meant.

“Are you seriously accusing me of fancying Snape? Snape of all people? Sickening,” you shouted as you pushed him away from you with a revolted expression. “That thought alone makes me want to throw up in your face.”

“Now, now, don’t be so vulgar. Snape is awkwardly handsome, quite old and wise. Maybe he could teach you some things,” he started winking suggestively at you before breaking in a laughing fit.

All you could was stare at him, horrified by the idea alone.

This whole conversation only sparked because you mentioned your study’s that were related to potion making. Which you only took up, to help out with new creations in relation to Fred, and George, of course.

Maybe he wasn’t that far off with the whole fancying idea, he just confused the person you fancied.

“Do you hear that?” he asked abruptly, a serious look on his face, that made your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way.

“What?” you asked, still annoyed but also a bit nervous. You weren’t that far away from the forbidden forest and you never knew what kind of creatures were luring in the shadows.

“I thought I heard,” he paused for a moment, suspension rising, “wedding bells.”

“Merlin, you’re a git,” you moaned.

You swiftly turned away from him and crossed your arms, more annoyed with him and his stupid jokes. Quickly you started walking, trying to get away from him.

Maybe it was your attitude or maybe he just realized that you were done with his jokes at the moment but he immediately went after you.

When he caught up with, he again put his arm on your shoulder, before saying, “Aw, come on. You know I was just joking.”

Ignoring him, you kept on walking in the direction of the castle. You weren’t bothered by his jokes, not really. It’s Fred you’re talking about here, he does not mean any harm — at least not to you.

You were also not upset by his little scare, or maybe a little bit. To be honest, you were not quite sure why you were so agitated currently.

Maybe it was the fact that you spent your free time studying, just for him, and George of course. But mostly for Fred. And all he could do is make a mockery out of it just so he doesn’t have to deal with real feelings.

Because you knew, that he was overwhelmed when you told him your studies were a way of helping him and George with their products. Fred wasn’t someone who asked for help, he’d rather deal with his problems on his own. But he also knew that accepting offered help wasn’t a weakness, especially when it came from you.

You recognized it in the way he got quiet for a moment, avoiding looking at you, his cheeks turning a shade of pink, before starting to joke around.

It was a typical Fred reaction.

“Don’t be like that, darling. I love you, don’t ignore me,” he murmured, pressing his lips against the side of your head.

Sometimes you wondered if he knew, when he said things like that but you were aware of the fact that he only saw you as a friend—he had made that clear numerous times.

“I’ll stop ignoring you if you stop joking about me and Snape,” you told him.

He held up his hands in surrender, “Deal.” Grinning at you, he linked his arm with yours, continuing the way up the hill towards the castle.

After a beat of silence, he interrupted it by saying, “But be honest with me, you fancy him at least a tiny bit, right?”

This time, when you pushed him away, you couldn’t help yourself and let out a laugh at his stupid joke.

&

Nights like these were your favorite.

Sitting in Gryffindor common room that was buzzing with conversation, around the fireplace with the people who felt like home to you, and Fred, who was so much more.

All the jokes, the laughter and the love that was shared between you made it sometimes difficult to deem this your life—it felt too good to be true.

Angelina was just retelling the story of how her newest fling asked her out, right after he won his quidditch game. The whole school witnessed that slightly awkward scene, but Angelina was head over heels about this public display of affection.

You could see that George was not so fond of these news, he was averting his gaze and seemed to obviously be more than annoyed at Angelina’s pawning about this handsome Hufflepuff boy.

If only George would tell her how he felt, but who were you to judge, considering you could not even tell your best friend about your feelings.

George’s behavior seemed to be obvious to anyone but Angelina, but Lee was the one to finally put George out of his misery and interrupt her speech, “I can’t even fathom what rid that guy to do all that in public.”

Angelina rolled her eyes, while everyone else laughed. “Maybe the fact that he knows what a woman wants?” she said, raising her eyebrow at you, clearly looking for support on this matter.

But you were the wrong one to address, because you couldn’t imagine anything more horrifying than somebody confessing their love for you in front of everyone.

“I understand that you like that kind of thing, but me personally, I think I would die of embarrassment. I don’t want my love to be so out in the open, at the end of the day it’s only between me and that person,” you told her, giving her an apologetic smile.

While trying to convey your thoughts on that matter, you couldn’t help yourself but let your mind wander to the person you always thought about these days it felt like.

Fred was sitting right next to you, but he was not his usual loud and joking self. There was something weighing on his mind and you wished you could just crawl inside it to find out what was wrong.

But you could not, so all you could do was lean to his side and quietly ask him, “Are you alright?”

Your words seemed to have pulled him out of his thoughts, because his eyes locked on yours, he was quiet for a moment, taking his time to think about his answer. He seemed to find it in your face, because he slowly began to grin before jumping out of his seat, interrupting George who was just talking enthusiastically.

Even with everyone’s eyes on him, he seemed to have only eyes for you.

“Oh, dearest lady of mine heart!” he exclaimed, striding toward you with a grand sweep of his arm. The room fell silent, a few chuckles escaping from his friends as he carried on with exaggerated passion.

He took your hand, eyes glinting with mischief as he dropped to one knee. “Thou art as radiant as the morning sun that doth chase away the drear of night,” he intoned, voice dramatic and thick with feigned longing. “Might I but win a single glance of thy affection, my soul would soar higher than the castle towers!”

You bit back a grin, feeling your cheeks heat up as everyone laughed, watching Fred carry on his theatrical performance.

He leaned in, lowering his voice just a touch. “Ah, fair lady, dost thou know what torment ‘tis to sit beside thee, with no claim upon thy heart?” His tone softened, eyes suddenly more serious than playful. “For, alas, thou hast bewitched me in ways I can scarce confess.”

Someone whistled, and George called out, “Go on, Freddie! Pour your heart out!”

With a smirk, Fred straightened and gave a bow. “Then, my fair one, grant me but a single smile, and I shall know all is well with my heart—for it beats for thee alone.”

&

You were staring holes into the ceiling, wide awake.

That wasn’t a rarity these days.

The impending war was hanging over your head, the uncertainty these days was keeping you up most nights nowadays. Never knowing if the next day would arrive with word of the beginning of the end.

You were staying at the Burrow, a house that has always felt like a safe place, a second home, to you. Lately it didn’t feel as secure as it used to, only the people occupying the space giving it the feeling of a home.

People were scared and though you tried not to show it, you were too.

Sleep was not going to come, you were sure of that. It has come worse and worse in the last few weeks.

That was the reason for why you would spend most nights in at the porch, looking out at the trees until the sun would rise and the rest of the house would wake up.

Some nights Fred would catch you up, not being able to rest himself, so he’d keep you company for a while, until sooner or later falling asleep on the floor next to you.

He would sometimes try to lighten the mood, trying to get you to laugh. Trying to put a smile on your lips, to make these times feel less daunting. And other times he would just sit in silence next to you, watching the sunrise. That’s when you would know that even Fred himself was struggling with being hopeful.

But you would never talk about it, because that would mean that this was real. The possibility of death and loss might not just be that — a possibility.

This night was different than the others and you couldn’t quite pinpoint why that was.

Maybe the reason was, that Fred was already out of bed. Normally you would be the first to come downstairs and he would soon after follow. Sometimes you would swear that he would just listen for your footsteps down the hallway, before he would emerge from his room.

This time when you walked down the stairs, you saw that the side door was slightly open.

When you walked by the kitchen window, you could see Fred sitting outside, staring at the night sky.

He did not acknowledge your presence when you took a seat next to him. All he did was continue to stare at the stars that shone so brightly, even in times like these, looking deep in thought.

After a few minutes of silence, his quiet question was a startling reminder that this fight was taking a constant toll on everyone, even the ones filled with happiness.

“Don’t you wish that it would all just end?”

You did not expect a question like this from him, the one person in this world that always had a hopeless optimism, no matter how bad things looked, he was the one that always said that things can only get better, even with a dagger in his heart.

There was no answer, that you could give him. At least not one, that he did not already know himself.

After a long moment of silence, where you admired the clear night-sky, you told him in a soft voice, “The stars are beautiful tonight.”

“Yes, yes they are,” he agreed, but when you looked over at him, his gaze wasn’t directed towards the sky, no, it was directed at you.

All you could do was stare back at him, and listen to the beating of your heart. You swore, if you stopped breathing, you could also pick up the beat of his.

“I love you,” he whispered and the beating of your heart stopped, for only a second, “You’re my best friend.”

How strange it was to feel anything at all.

&

You were bleeding.

A few moments before, you got hit, you think, you couldn’t remember when it happened exactly.

All you could do was to keep going, ignoring the humming pain at your side. The adrenaline pumping in your veins was keeping you from thinking clearly, acknowledging the deep wound.

The one and only thing that was on your mind, was Fred.

Ever since you heard his name leaving someone’s lips, mentioning that he was hurt, severely, all you could do was look for him in every face that laid on the ground. So many bodies, so many souls that have left before their time.

You felt guilty, that every time you did not see his face on any of the bodies, you felt a sense of relief.

With every turn you took, people were trying desperately to make it out alive. It was a miracle that you were even still alive at this point, with the way you were running past Death Eaters without a care in the world.

It was in the Great Hall where you finally found him, sitting on one of the gurneys.

Without a second thought, you ran towards him, engulfing him in your arms, needing to make sure that he was real and not just a figment of your imagination. There was too much demise for you not to consider that you yourself have already passed.

But when Fred put his arms around you and pulled you against his body you knew that this was real, because it hurt like hell. He was pressing against the wound on your side and you were hurting him too, you must be, given the state he was in. But not any of this mattered when you felt so secure in his arms.

“What were you thinking?” you muttered in his neck, not wanting to let go of him, “You could be dead.”

Fred’s ghost of a laugh brushed the skin of your cheek, leaving a haunted touch. His response to your worries was unconcerned, “I’m not.”

His carelessness made you push him from you, turning your head to the side, so he couldn’t catch a glimpse of the tears welling in your eyes when you whispered, “But you could’ve been.”

The realization hit you at once. There was a sudden urge to just scream your soul out, as you acknowledged that there was a possibility that you could not be sitting here with Fred.

But you did not lash out, no, you broke down. The adrenaline rush and the fear of losing Fred was leaving your body at once and you began crying, not being able to hold them in any longer.

There were so many emotions you were feeling in this moment, guilt for not staying with Fred, anger at anyone who harmed him, and panic for everything you have endured to still be alive.

Fred reached out his hand, taking ahold of yours, muttering sweet nothings to you, “I’m okay, hey, I’m okay.” But you wouldn’t hear it, even if his words rang true. The idea of finding a lifeless Fred in the Great Hall was still to raw. All he could do to comfort you, was to hold you, and he did as he continued to whisper, “I’m right here, alive and breathing.”

You heard his words but you did not recognize them, too caught up with sorting through the mess of your mind. But his next words finally got through to you, because he confessed with a low voice and a soft smile, “I love you too much to just leave you like that.”

Only a few moments later, he noticed the blood on your shirt, a fearful expression on his face as he saw your exhausted eyes, yelling out, “I need a healer. Now!”

&

Something shifted between the two of you after the war, you could feel it in the air, almost being able to touch it with your bare hands.

It was in the way he looked at you, like you would vanish the moment he looked away, and the way he touched you, the way he refused to let go of you, like he feared that you might fade away from his life.

As if he wasn’t the one that could’ve almost slipped away from you.

Maybe it was a reassurance to him, to feel that he was still here, alive and breathing.

To you it was torture. Never before has he been so close to you, yet so far. It was cruel, if you were being honest.

You had taken on the responsibility of helping out with the shop, with Fred healing and George being overwhelmed with the workload, it only made sense.

That was at least what you told yourself. The whole truth was, that you too were scared that if you only for a second turned around that he would be gone. That it had all only been a dream, and Fred had not survived the war but had succumbed to his injuries.

But he had.

It was a day like the one before, you sat next to Fred in the office after the shop had closed, looking over some of the paperwork.

You worked in silence next to one another, but all you fixate on was the way his thigh was plastered on your thigh, the way his arm was pressing right into your arm. It was hard to tell where you began and he ended, everything was blended together and you loathed it.

You hated it, because it was everything you ever wanted, but it looked wrong, misshapen.

“When I was talking to George earlier, he asked if you were staying over again, I told him that you were,” he mumbled, not looking up from his work.

That had been another thing that had been creeping into your new everyday without you noticing it at first. You spend most of your time at their flat, only going to yours to get the mail and water your plants, that were slowly rotting away with the amount of times you were actually around to take care of them.

Like so many other things, it had been unspoken. An unspoken agreement between you, that was just there.

Just like it had been unspoken that you would no longer spend the night on the living room sofa and instead on Fred’s bed, when he saw the uncomfortable sleep you would have on that sofa. Which was not completely true, because it wasn’t the sofa keeping you awake, it was the nightmares.

It was a day like this, long ago, when instead of letting you go left to the living room, he gently took your hand and lead you into his room. Neither of you said a word, when you got ready for bed. You just laid down together, taking comfort in one another, while holding onto each other.

You did not talk about, how you slept better together, or how the nightmares were fewer now. That was just another thing that sneaked its way into your everyday routine.

So when you walked up the stairs into his flat, that felt more like home to you than your own home, you did not say anything, because it was just the way things were now.

And you did not say anything, when you two stood in his tiny bathroom and undressed for bed, because it was just the way things were now.

And you did not say anything, when you crawled into his bed, onto your side, because it was just the way things were now.

But when he put his arms around you, and whispered those three words into your ear, like it was just a part of your new normal, you could not keep quiet any longer.

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that. Not if you don’t mean it,” you whimpered into the darkness of the night.

He tightened his grip on you, whispering “But I do mean it.”

You were shaking, and with a raw throat you told him the truth, “Not in the way I want you to.”

“In what way do you want me to mean it?” he asked, voice soft.

“In every way.”

He put his lips on your neck, “I do, in every way.”

For the first time in, what felt like years, you finally let go. You let go of all that pain you endured over the years, all of the confusion and agonizing fear you felt. Sobbing into the arms of the man that you have loved, long before you even knew what love truly meant.

And all he did, was hold you together, so you could fall apart, continuing to whisper these words in your ear.

[zarathelonewolf]

Some people need to write in this absence of courage though, and purely because of it, and purely FOR it.

Not to say that I don't get your point: it is a good point and I would like to see more hopeful dark stories, stories similar to what you prefer. I would prefer them too, ideally.

However sometimes people really do not have the courage to "want something better, to know that it was wrong"... Because to THEM (and I say this as someone who is similar to them to an extent, though I fight everyday to be hopeful) it does not seem like an act of courage, it seems like an act of insolence.

Why insolence? Because of a lot of things.

"How dare you (general you, not you, OP) want something better? The result of what was done for you is a negative thing that pushes you to do negative things, how dare you think that you should want something better?"

This is the insolence I speak of. The insolence they think they are culpable of. Sometimes people really do need to show the trauma "bare". They need to write out the negative voice. It's what they know and they feel isolated because people keep telling them it'll get better but they are not there yet, so they want to show their frustration. They may want to reject the idea of not taking up space, alternatively, when they show their trauma: so they show it in a gritty manner and without solution to spite the people that tell them they should just keep it all in unless they have healed, or unless they have the intention of doing so.

It may not be hopeful dark art, that's true. But that's not what dark stories HAVE TO be in order to be "good art", either. They don't want to fix something. They just want to show it. They are "vent art".

And it is needed. By people that don't have the "courage" yet, that maybe won't ever have that courage. They need to see something other than their mind crumble... something other than their body, something other than their voice, something other than their memory while it's crumbling. They need to see a story that crumbles without getting back up. That way they feel less alone, perhaps. They feel that the suffering is real and that it does not need healing to be considered suffering. Especially when others interact with the story and cry alongside them while in a similar situation.

A weird broken sort of solace so to speak.

Is it nice? No, not really. But in certain moments of people's lives it's what they need. In a twisted sense, for some people, all they will ever want to experience. It's not just insolence after all. For certain people, darkness itself is the refuge, because the world outside is too bright and a lot people want to be rid of their dark thoughts and want the victims themselves to be rid of the dark thoughts and find a solution for them, whereas these victims just CAN'T, they can't manage yet and they feel inadequate so they produce something that makes them feel like they matter for something.

Something dark and gritty and hopeless.

Art isn't good due to the fact that it expresses correct values. Art is good because it makes you feel, or merely because you feel drawn to interacting with it. Same goes for dark art. It is good dark art when it makes you feel dark stuff, whether or not it heads towards a good or bad ending.

I say this as someone who is hopeless about herself and himself and hopeful for others. Weird right? But it's how I exist. People's comfort sometimes makes me feel even lonelier. I would prefer silence and reading dark content AND hurt/comfort most of the time.

I come from a place of being pressured into healing. I want to heal on my own now, I don't trust therapists for shit. I will find my hope but not now. And dark content with hopelessness, vent art done purely for the vent and not for the healing helps me immensely because I feel my resistance to healing seen without someone telling me that I can heal because I know I CAN, I just don't want to because people have all sorts of expectations about how my healing should be, but while people can object to my healing not really being healing, they can hardly disagree that the dark stuff I write isn't dark. At least in my experience.

People have differing types of sensitivity, and not all people who are lovers love themselves. Love doesn't have to be total, not all people experience it like that. Sensitivity does not have to make you like dark hopeless stories, but it does not mean you are sensitive only if you prefer hopeful stories OR when you reject completely dark stories. People can be "lovers" and sensitive in all three of cases. So I agree about being frustrated for people saying "you're not sensitive enough" because that's not true, your sensitivity simply differs from theirs.

Vent art can be self care just as much as hopeful art. And dark content does not have to be vent art, it can also just want to make people witness gross stuff because they enjoy gross stuff being depicted for the sake of it (to make an example: people with certain laraphilias that cannot be explored safely in real life).

I am merely playing devil's advocate, with the devil being something I love: my only chance at venting without feeling pressured into a reaction. So I will concede this exposition may seem personal, almost too personal, and angry, but I tend to be passionate about the things I love.

I hope I didn't anger people with my response to this. But then again, I should take up space more often...

too much to say in a post but i re-read (partly skimmed) my manuscript of my book from a year and a half ago and it's so fucking good and also feels like a hemisphere of my brain has been returned to me. like oh yeah. my creative self. the fullness of my being. i missed you

i need to fucking talk about it but it's intimidating

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 11

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lololol)

Word Count: 5.1k

Warnings: Angst, stupid people, dramaaaaa

A/N: I aint ready for peace yet 😇🫶🏻

Masterpost

NYU 4th Year

The late afternoon sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as you exited your lecture hall, your bag slung over your shoulder and your mind already racing with thoughts of your looming paper. The quad was buzzing with students heading off to their weekend plans, and you were lost in your thoughts when you spotted Natasha leaning casually against a lamppost, her red hair catching the golden light.

“There she is,” Nat called, waving you over with a grin. “What took you so long? I’ve been standing here for ages.”

“Class ran late,” you said, rolling your eyes as you walked up to her. “Professor decided to drop a surprise reading quiz on us.”

Natasha scoffed, falling into step beside you. “Reading quizzes on a Friday should be illegal. Anyway, there’s a party tonight at Walker’s place. You coming?”

You hesitated, already feeling the weight of your weekend workload. “I don’t know, Nat. I’ve got that big paper due next week, and I’m kind of behind. I was planning to get a head start tonight.”

Natasha groaned, clasping her hands together in an exaggerated plea. “Come on, please? Wanda already bailed on me, and I really want to see this guy who’s going to be there. I can’t get stuck with the boys by myself—they’ll ruin my whole vibe.”

You sighed, torn between responsibility and the infectious energy of your best friend. “Fine,” you said reluctantly. “But I’m starting my introduction before we leave. No arguments.”

“Scout’s honor,” Natasha said, raising three fingers in a mock salute.

You gave her a pointed look. “You weren’t even a Girl Scout.”

She grinned, undeterred. “True, but I can feel it. In another life, I was definitely a spy.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you parted ways. “Yeah, sure, Nat.”

By the time you got back to your dorm, Natasha was already busy texting, her phone lighting up with each rapid-fire message. You could tell by the sly smile on her face that she was talking to her crush. The thing about Natasha was that she always knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go after it. She was a spitfire, sharp-tongued and unapologetically confident, but underneath all that fire, she was a hopeless romantic. Most guys your age weren’t ready for someone like her, but that never stopped her from trying.

You sat at your desk and opened your laptop, determined to at least get your introduction done before the night derailed into party chaos. The words flowed easily, and by the time you finished your intro and even managed to start your first paragraph, you felt a small sense of accomplishment.

Alright you texted Natasha, I’m done for now. Let’s get ready.

Within seconds, your phone buzzed with her reply: Finally!!! Be there in 5.

True to her word, Natasha burst into your room moments later, her arms loaded with a makeup bag and a pair of heels. You both commandeered Wanda’s bed, laying out a mess of possible outfits, debating the merits of each one as you tried to find the perfect look.

You finally settled on a sleek black mini-dress that hugged your figure in all the right places, paired with short heels and of course your signature neckless: your locket. Natasha went for a bold red jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and sky-high heels.

Standing side by side in front of the mirror, Natasha let out a low whistle. “Damn, we’re hot.”

You giggled, adjusting the strap of your dress. “We clean up nice.”

Natasha’s eyes drifted to the delicate gold locket resting against your collarbone, and she smiled. “That locket… you’ve been wearing it forever. I’ve never seen you without it.”

You glanced down, your fingers lightly brushing over the familiar weight of the locket. “Yeah, it’s kind of a family thing, my mom gave it to be before she passed"

Natasha, smiled sadly her curiosity piqued. “You never did tell me what’s inside.”

You held the locket, fidgeting it between your fingers. “On one side, there’s a quote about love that my great-great-great-grandmother supposedly wrote. My grandma told me everyone who’s had this locket would place a photo of the man they loved on the other side—so they’d always be close to their heart."

Natasha’s eyes softened. “Your whole family sounds like a bunch of hopeless romantics.”

You laughed. “Apparently. Guess it runs in the blood.”

Natasha smirked, leaning in. “So… who’s in yours?”

You hesitated, your fingers lingering on the locket before closing it. “No one,” you said, offering a small smile. “I don’t really have anyone to put in there right now.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Mhm, sure. No one at all?”

You rolled your eyes. “Not everyone is as quick to fall head over heels as you, Nat.”

“Hey,” she said, placing a hand over her heart dramatically, “I just know what I want.”

“And what you deserve,” you added with a grin.

Natasha nodded approvingly. “Exactly.”

With that, you both grabbed your bags and made your way out of the dorm, ready to take on the night. Natasha’s phone buzzed again, and she couldn’t hide the excitement on her face as she typed back.

You glanced at her, smiling softly. “Texting your mystery man?”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink. “Tonight’s going to be fun—you’ll see.”

The crisp night air buzzed with the energy of the weekend as you and Natasha made your way down the crowded street, laughter and music spilling out from houses along the way. The distant thump of bass grew louder with every step, and soon you were standing in front of John Walker’s house, its windows glowing and the porch already packed with students.

Natasha looped her arm through yours as you approached the door, her heels clicking against the pavement. “You know,” she said, her voice light but teasing, “I always thought you might have Bucky’s picture in that locket.”

You stumbled slightly, your eyes snapping to hers. “What?”

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t act so surprised. You two have been inseparable since kindergarten. Best friends, sure, but there’s always been… something.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but she didn’t give you the chance. “I mean, hey, no judgment. I’m just saying I’m a little surprised he’s not in there.”

You were about to respond, to come up with some half-hearted deflection, but before you could, Natasha grinned and yanked you toward the door. “No time for heart-to-hearts now. Let’s find the boys.”

The moment you stepped inside, the heat and noise hit you like a wave. The living room was packed, bodies swaying to the beat of the music as red solo cups were passed around. You caught a glimpse of a makeshift beer pong table in the corner, surrounded by a cheering crowd. The scent of cheap alcohol and sweat mingled in the air, and someone had already spilled something sticky on the floor.

Natasha scanned the room with a practiced eye, her grip still firm on your arm. “There they are,” she said, nodding toward the far side of the room where Steve and Bucky were leaning against a wall, talking. Steve had his usual easy smile, but Bucky’s eyes flicked across the room, as if he was keeping tabs on everything and everyone.

Natasha released your arm and nudged you forward with a sly grin. “Go on. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Before you could protest, she disappeared into the crowd, already hunting down her mystery man.

You took a deep breath and weaved your way through the throng of people, your heart picking up speed as you got closer to them. Bucky’s head turned slightly, and when his eyes landed on you, a slow smile spread across his face. He nudged Steve, who looked up and gave you a warm wave.

Here’s a revised version with smoother transitions and more natural dialogue flow:

“Well, well,” Bucky’s voice cut through the noise as you and Natasha finally reached him and Steve. He leaned casually against the wall, a lopsided grin on his face. “Look who decided to show up.”

Steve chuckled, raising his cup in a mock toast. “Didn’t think we’d see you tonight. Thought you had some big paper to write?”

“I did,” you replied, crossing your arms with a smirk. “But Natasha here wouldn’t take no for an answer. Said it was a life-or-death situation.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Natasha, relentless? Shocking.”

“She’s practically a force of nature,” you said, glancing around. “So, drinks?”

Steve drained the last of his beer and set his cup down with a satisfied sigh. “You two go ahead. I’m gonna head over to the keg and see if I can beat my personal record tonight.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Best of luck, Stevie.”

Steve winked as he stepped away. “Now that you’re here, I don’t need it.”

As he disappeared into the crowd, you and Bucky stood there in a comfortable silence for a moment, the bass of the music thumping around you. Then, Bucky gave you one of his signature half-smiles, the kind that always made your heart skip a beat. “Come on,” he said, reaching for your hand and pulling you toward the drink table.

His touch was brief but enough to send a spark up your arm. You followed without protest, a small smile tugging at your lips. When you reached the table, he handed you a drink, his fingers brushing against yours—a fleeting, seemingly innocent moment that left your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you murmured, avoiding his gaze as you lifted the cup to your lips.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and for a second, you forgot how to breathe. But before you could think of a response, Natasha appeared from behind you, clapping her hands together, cutting through the moment.

“Alright, people,” she announced, her tone playful. “What’s the plan? Beer pong? Dancing? Or do we just stand here and look devastatingly cool?”

Bucky smirked, his eyes still on you. “I think we’ve already nailed the last one.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “How about we find Steve before he gets himself into trouble?”

Bucky raised his cup in agreement. “Solid plan.”

With that, the three of you moved back into the crowd, weaving through the crush of people and the haze of music. Even as the party buzzed around you, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Bucky’s lingering gaze—or the way your locket, pressed against your chest, seemed to grow heavier with every step.

"There he is!" Natasha beamed, stopping "Buck you go watch him, me and my girl are gonna dance for a bit!" Before either of you could respond, Natasha was already pulling you away, you turned around glancing over your shoulder briefly to see Bucky's blue eyes smiling at you as he gave you a single wave.

The music thumped loudly in your ears, the bass vibrating through the floor as you swayed with Natasha in the middle of the crowded living room. The alcohol buzzed warmly in your veins, and for a moment, you let yourself forget about everything—about the paper, about the tension that always seemed to linger whenever Bucky was around.

You and Nat were giggling, holding onto each other as you moved to the beat. It was freeing, exhilarating even, until your gaze drifted across the room and landed on him.

Bucky was leaning casually against the wall, his signature smirk firmly in place as he talked to a blonde. She was laughing at something he said, her hand lightly resting on his arm. They were close—too close. Her hair glinted under the dim party lights, and the way she leaned in, hanging on his every word, made your stomach drop.

Your world stopped for a second. The music faded into the background, replaced by the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You blinked, trying to shake it off, telling yourself it didn’t matter, but the familiar ache settled in your chest anyway.

You tore your eyes away, grabbing your red solo cup and downing the rest of its contents in one go. The burn of the cheap liquor didn’t help, but it gave you something to focus on. You crushed the cup in your hand and let it drop to the floor, the plastic crumpling beneath your heel as you forced yourself to keep dancing.

“Fuck it,” you muttered under your breath, plastering a fake smile on your face.

Natasha laughed beside you, her movements loose and carefree. She slurred slightly, her words barely audible over the music. “Hey! You… you took your necklace off!”

You frowned, reaching up to touch your neck instinctively. “No, I didn’t.”

“Then where is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she swayed in place.

Your hand moved frantically over your collarbone, panic setting in as your fingers found only bare skin. Your locket was gone. “Shit,” you whispered, your eyes wide as you started scanning the floor beneath your feet. “Nat, it’s gone!”

Her hands immediately went to your shoulders, steadying you. “Don’t panic,” she said, her voice slurring but her tone trying to stay calm. “It… it can’t be far.”

But it was too late. The panic clawed its way up your throat, and tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. The music was too loud, the crowd too thick. You dropped to your knees, your hands scrambling over the sticky floor as you searched desperately for the locket.

“Excuse me! Sorry!” you mumbled, trying to push past people, but it was no use. The sea of feet around you made it impossible to see anything.

You backed up, bumping into someone behind you. A pair of hands immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. “Hey, you okay?” the guy asked, but you shoved him off without even looking, your vision blurring with tears.

Natasha was back at your side in an instant, her hands on your shoulders again, her mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear her. The world felt like it was spinning too fast, and all you could think about was the locket—your family heirloom. The one your mother had given you before she passed away. The one that had been passed down for generations. And now it was gone, lost in the chaos of some stupid party.

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you stumbled backward, your breathing coming in short, panicked gasps. You didn’t even realize someone was pulling you out of the house until the cool night air hit your skin.

“Hey, hey,” that same guy's voice said, low and urgent. You blinked through the haze of your tears, and your heart twisted painfully when you saw who it was.

Bucky.

He had his hands on your arms, guiding you away from the crowd, his eyes filled with concern. “Come on, you’re okay,” he murmured, leading you to a quieter spot on the porch. “Breathe, alright? Just breathe.”

You tried to speak, but the words got caught in your throat. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your vision still blurry from the tears.

“Look at me,” Bucky said softly, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

His words, his presence, grounded you just enough to pull in a shaky breath. “It’s gone, Buck,” you finally managed, your voice breaking. “The locket… my mom’s locket. It’s gone.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he glanced back toward the house. “Okay,” he said, his voice calm but determined. “We’re gonna find it.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over. “There’s too many people. It’s probably already stepped on or—or lost for good.”

“Hey,” Bucky said firmly, his hands tightening slightly on your arms. “We’ll find it. I promise.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was unwavering determination. His eyes softened, and he gently wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“Wait here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m going back in.”

“No, Buck—”

“I’ll find it,” he interrupted, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “Just stay here.”

Before you could protest, he turned and disappeared back into the house, leaving you alone on the porch, the night air chilling your skin. You sank onto the steps, your hands trembling as you clutched at your knees, praying silently that he was right.

The minutes felt like hours as you sat on the porch, arms wrapped tightly around yourself. Every time the door opened, you looked up, hoping to see Bucky stepping out with your locket in hand. But each time, it was just another person stumbling out into the night, oblivious to your panic.

Finally, the door opened again, and Bucky emerged. His expression was serious, his steps purposeful, but his hands were empty.

Your heart sank, the last bit of hope slipping away. He walked over and crouched in front of you, his eyes meeting yours with a steady calm.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice firm but laced with regret. “I checked everywhere I could. Asked everyone. It’s just… not there.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tightening as you tried to process his words. The locket—your mother’s locket—was gone. A family heirloom, passed down through generations, lost in the chaos of a party. You tried to speak, but all that came out was a shaky breath.

“It’s gone,” you finally whispered, the words feeling heavy and final.

Bucky’s hand rested lightly on your knee, grounding you. “I know how much it meant to you,” he said, his voice steady. “And I’m sorry we couldn’t find it tonight. But we’ll figure something out. I’m not giving up.”

You shook your head, blinking back the tears that blurred your vision. “It was the only thing I had left of her,” you said, your voice breaking. “And now it’s just… gone.”

Bucky’s fingers gently squeezed your knee. “I get it,” he said quietly. “It’s not just a thing. It’s her.”

You nodded, wiping at your cheeks, but the tears kept coming. “It feels like I let her down,” you whispered, your hands trembling in your lap. “I should’ve been more careful.”

Bucky shifted, sitting beside you on the step. His shoulder brushed yours, and he looked out at the street, his voice calm and certain. “Hey, your okay, its gonna be okay”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to absorb his words. “How can you say that? Its gone,” .

“I know,” he said, his tone understanding. “But your mom wouldn’t want you to carry that weight. That locket—it was important, sure, but it doesn’t change the connection you had with her. You’ve got all those memories, all those stories. She’s still with you.”

His words settled over you, comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. You leaned into his shoulder, letting out a quiet sigh. “Thanks, Bucky,” you said softly, your voice still thick with emotion. “For always being there.”

His arm came around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “Always,” he said simply.

For a while, you just sat there, the distant hum of the party fading into the background. The ache of losing the locket still lingered, but Bucky’s steady presence eased it, bit by bit. He didn’t try to fix everything, didn’t offer hollow reassurances. He just stayed—solid, dependable, exactly what you needed.

You broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant. “What about that girl…?”

Bucky didn’t let you finish. “Forget about her,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I have my best girl right here” his eyes met yours, and for a moment, there was something unspoken between you, something heavy and meaningful.

Eventually, you sat up, brushing the last of the tears from your cheeks. You gave him a small, wry smile. “Guess I owe you one,” you said quietly.

Bucky chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You don’t owe me anything,” he replied. Then, with a playful glint in his eye, he added, “Except maybe a rematch at beer pong.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound a little shaky but genuine. “Deal,” you said, the weight on your chest feeling just a little lighter.

Now

Sam takes a deep breath as he reaches the door to your shared apartment, bracing himself. He isn’t entirely sure what he’s walking into, but he knows Bucky isn’t handling things well. He knocks firmly and waits, listening for any movement inside.

After a long pause, the door creaks open. Bucky stands there, looking like absolute hell. His hair’s a mess, his eyes bloodshot, and he’s still in yesterday’s clothes, rumpled and wrinkled.

“Sam?” Bucky’s voice is hoarse, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, man,” Sam says, leaning against the doorframe. “I came to check on you. Can I come in?”

Bucky steps aside, muttering, “Yeah… sure. Guess you uh probably know everything already.”

Sam walks in, his eyes immediately catching the shattered lamp on the floor, pieces scattered across the living room. “I know her side, but there's two sides to every coin” The air feels heavy, tense. He turns to Bucky, his voice steady. “She’s at Steve and my place. She’s safe if you're wondering.”

Bucky winces, looking away as his shoulders slump. “Good… that’s good.” He lets out a bitter chuckle, running a hand over his face. “Guess you’re here to tell me what a screw-up I am, huh?”

Sam shakes his head, exasperated. “Bucky, I’m not here to kick you when you’re down. I’m here because we’re friends. And friends don’t abandon each other, even when one of them is making dumbass choices.”

Bucky scoffs, dropping onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Yeah, well… I deserve it.”

Sam takes the chair across from him, studying Bucky’s hunched figure. “You look like hell, man. Want to tell me what happened, your version?”

Bucky hesitates, his voice low and broken. “I don’t know. She was just standing there, looking at me like… like she was just disgusted at being in my presence ...and it hurt, i said sorry for the bar comment, but then we started to hash things out, I got so damn scared. So I did the only thing I know how to do—I pushed her away. Told her to leave.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, his tone sharp. “So you let her walk out? Alone? At night?”

Bucky’s face twists with guilt, and he nods. “Yeah, I know, i went after her but she was gone, that's no excuse i know, i put her in danger Sam, i can't believe it….And now she probably hates me.” He chuckles bitterly. “Hell, maybe she should, i do.”

“Don’t give me that self-pity crap,” Sam snaps. “She’s hurt, sure. But you know damn well she doesn’t hate you.”

Bucky exhales shakily. “Maybe she should. All I ever do is screw things up. I push her away because… because I’m too scared to admit how I feel. And now? I don’t even know if I can fix it.”

Sam leans forward, his voice firm. “You’ve got two choices, Buck. Sit here and wallow, or get off your ass and do something about it.”

Bucky finally meets his gaze, his voice barely a whisper. “What do I even say?”

Sam nods toward the shattered lamp. “Start by picking up the pieces. Then tell her the truth.”

Bucky swallows hard. “What if… what if it’s too late?”

Sam’s voice softens. “That’s a chance you’ll have to take, you cant just throw away the friendship you two have, i dont even know my friends from kindergarten, i couldnt tell you the slightest thing about em now….but you’ll never know unless you try.”

Bucky hesitates, then leans back, his gaze distant. “I’ve tried, Sam. More times than I can count.”

Sam frowns. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky’s voice grows quieter, tinged with frustration. “I’ve been trying to tell her for years—little things here and there. Dropping hints, pushing the boundaries, trying to get her to see me the way I see her. But every damn time, she pulls back, like she’s scared of what’s on the other side of those walls she’s built.”

Sam watches him, his expression thoughtful. “And you think she doesn’t feel the same?”

Bucky lets out a hollow laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. But how the hell am I supposed to keep putting myself out there when she won’t meet me halfway? Why does it always have to be me to make the first move? Why can’t she give me a sign? Something, anything that lets me know I’m not imagining this?” Bucky’s voice cracks, and he rakes a hand through his hair, his frustration spilling out. “It’s like every time I try to get closer, she pulls back. And then I’m stuck wondering if I’m just some idiot chasing after something that was never there.”

Sam leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess, man. But sitting here, letting the fear eat away at you, isn’t gonna solve anything. You want her to meet you halfway? Maybe she’s been waiting for you to show her it’s safe to.”

Bucky shakes his head, his jaw tightening. “I’ve shown her, Sam. Hell, I’ve been there for her through everything. I’ve tried to coax her out of those walls, but every time I think I’m making progress, she shuts me down. And now? Now she’s out there, going on dates with other guys. What am I supposed to think?”

Sam tilts his head, his gaze steady. “You ever think maybe she’s just as scared as you are? That she’s waiting for you to stop hinting and just say it outright?”

Bucky’s fists clench, his frustration boiling over. “Why does it have to be me? Why can’t she take the damn risk for once? I’m not the only one in this.”

Sam exhales, leaning back. “You’re right, it’s a two-way street. But you’ve got to ask yourself—if she’s scared, just like you, who’s gonna be brave enough to break the cycle?”

Bucky stands, pacing the room. His voice drops, low and pained. “What if I put everything out there, and she doesn’t feel the same? I don’t think I could handle that.”

Sam’s gaze follows him, his tone firm but empathetic. “Or what if she’s been feeling the same this whole time, but she’s been too scared to lose you? What if she’s been waiting for you to say what she can’t?”

Bucky stops, his hands on his hips, his head bowed. “I can’t lose her, Sam. Not as a friend, not as… whatever this is. She’s everything. And if I’m wrong—if I tell her how I feel and she walks away—I don’t know what I’ll do.”

Sam stands, crossing the room to face Bucky. “Buck, you’re already losing her by doing nothing. This limbo you’re both stuck in? It’s tearing you apart. You’ve got to take the leap, man. Because if you don’t, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Bucky swallows hard, his eyes clouded with doubt. “And if I crash and burn?”

Sam gives him a small, encouraging smile. “Then you’ll get back up. And you’ll know you tried. But if you don’t take that chance, you’ll always wonder what could’ve been.”

Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hands still clenched at his sides. “I’ve never been good at this—at saying what I feel. And now, with everything so screwed up…”

“Then stop overthinking it,” Sam says. “Tell her the truth. Not hints, not half-measures. The whole thing.”

Bucky looks at him, his expression caught between fear and hope. “What if she’s already made up her mind? What if she’s moving on?”

Sam shakes his head. “You don’t know that. And you won’t unless you ask. But hiding behind ‘what ifs’ isn’t gonna get you anywhere.”

Bucky stares at the shattered lamp, his mind racing. Finally, he lets out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping. “Alright,” he says quietly. “I’ll talk to her. But if this blows up in my face, you’re buying me drinks for the next decade.”

Sam smirks, clapping him on the shoulder. “Deal. Now get yourself together, man. You’ve got work to do.”

Bucky nods, though the weight of what lies ahead presses heavily on him. As Sam heads for the door, he glances back. “Just remember, Buck—she’s not the only one with walls. You’ve got a few of your own.”

Wanda clapped her hands together, her tone light. “Okay, enough brooding. How about some brunch? I’m starving.”

Natasha perked up at that, crossing her arms. “I could go for some pancakes. What about the farmers market?”

You sighed, your head falling back against the couch. “I’m down for food, but we can’t go to the farmers market.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her tone edging toward irritation. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t go there without Bucky,” you said simply, your voice flat but firm.

Natasha groaned, throwing her hands up. “God, why does everything have to come back to Bucky? He’s not exactly the Farmers Market King. We can survive one trip without him.”

You sat up, your eyes flashing. “Stop it, Nat. Just stop. Look, we’ve all messed up before. Bucky’s not some random guy who screwed up—he’s Bucky, its him. He’s been there for me through everything. We can’t just hate on him because we got in a fight.”

Natasha scoffed, her voice sharp. “I can hate on him just fine. He’s an asshole, and I’m tired of watching him drag you through this endless cycle of misery.”

Your hands clenched at your sides as you stood up, your voice snapping like a whip. “And I’m tired of you acting like it’s so black and white! He’s not perfect, but none of us are. You think I haven’t made mistakes? You think I haven’t hurt him too?”

Natasha stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. “You’re always defending him! No matter what he does, you jump in to shield him, like he’s some wounded puppy. When are you gonna wake up and realize he’s not worth it?”

“He’s not worth it?” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get it, Nat. He’s not just some guy who broke my heart. He’s my best friend! You don’t throw someone like that away because they messed up once, or twice, or even a hundred times. He’s Bucky, for god’s sake!”

The room went silent, the weight of your words hanging between you. Natasha stared at you, her jaw tightening before she shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Fine,” she said coldly. “Do whatever you want. But don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again.”

With that, you turned on your heel and stormed off into Steve’s room. Natasha grabbed her bag as she headed for the door. Before she left, she glanced at Wanda and Steve, her voice sharp. “All I do is try to help, but if she wants to keep sticking up for his dumb ass, that’s on her, leave me out of it next time.”

The door slammed behind her, leaving an uncomfortable silence in her wake.

Wanda and Steve exchanged glances, both looking a little shell-shocked. Finally, Wanda sighed, brushing her hair back. “I’ll go after Nat,” she said quietly. She turned to Steve, her brow raised. “You got her?”

Steve nodded, giving Wanda a small, reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’ve got her.”

Once Wanda left, Steve turned to. Steve hesitated for a moment before following. He knocked gently on the door. “Hey… you okay?”

There was no answer at first, just the sound of you pacing. Finally, your voice came through, quieter but still tense. “I’m fine, Steve. Just… need a minute.”

Steve leaned against the doorframe, his voice soft. “Take all the time you need. I’m here, I’ll always be right here…”

[livwritesstuff]

Today was a bittersweet day – the last day of the three-month parental leave Steve had taken when their daughter Robbie was born before he headed back to his counseling job.

Eddie knows that Steve is feeling torn a few different ways about going back to work.

On the one hand, Steve loves his job, and he’d worked his ass off earning his doctorate so he could be a trauma therapist just like he’d planned. Kids had also been a part of his plan, obviously, but as more of an in addition to type of way, rather than instead of when it came to his career. Eddie knows this, and he knows that Steve is excited to go back, to reconnect with his patients after three months apart.

Eddie also knows that their kids are everything to Steve in a way his job will never be (duh), and Eddie had seen the way Steve refused to ignore the gravity of today – the last day he doesn’t have to share his time with anything other than their daughters.

Steve had been emotional about going back to work in a similar way the first time around with Moe, and he’d called home about eight or nine times during his first day back in the office, asking how things were going and if he’d missed anything. Now, Moe is two-and-a-half (and some change, if they’re being technical), and Robbie just hit the three-month mark a few days ago. This time, Steve had done his best to split his time between their two daughters, and it’s not all that different from their normal day-to-day, honestly, just…something heavier in the air, maybe.

Now, Moe’s all fresh and clean from her bath, her bangs slicked back with the rest of her damp hair (Steve had put on a whole show of planting kisses all over her forehead and saying, “is this where you’ve been hiding your brilliant brain from us?” which always sends Moe into giggling hysterics), and Steve’s got her all bundled up in a big fluffy towel, snuggling her close with one arm as he balances Robbie on his chest with the other, all of them piled into a rocking chair while Eddie sits stretched out on Robbie’s rug.

“I’m probably not gonna be home when you wake up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells Moe, and it’s not the first time he’s brought up this particular subject today, but, y’know…toddlers. Really gotta nail in the point sometimes with toddlers, “‘Cause I’m going back to work, so I have to leave early to drive into Boston.”

“Why do you hafta drive to Boston?” Moe asked.

“Because that’s where my office is. Remember a few weeks ago when we visited my office?”

“Yeah and they met Robbie.”

“That’s right,” Steve nodded, “Everyone I work with met Robbie. I got to take a break from work when Robbie was born, and now it’s time for me to go back.”

Moe’s eyebrows are furrowed.

“But…I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, bug,” he tells her, “I miss you and Robbie and Daddy like crazy when I’m not home with you.”

“So why don’t you take more break?”

“I sorta took all the break I’m allowed to, sweet pea. It’s time for me to go back to work.”

Eddie looks at Moe, sees the cogs turning in her little brain as she tries to figure out a way to convince her dad to stay home with her.

“But what if you just don’t work anymore?”

It’s a good question, Eddie knows, and she’s not the only one asking it.

Not too long after Robbie’s arrival, when Max and El had come to visit and meet the new baby, Max had privately asked Eddie if he thought Steve might throw in the towel on the whole career thing this time around. Again, it’s a fair question for anybody who really knows Steve, anybody who sees how much he loves their kids and how much he loves being a dad, even if Eddie knows the answer is no. Still, it’s a close no.

Steve hums sympathetically, “Maybe someday, but I like my job. I get to help people, and I worked hard in school to be able to do that. Someday you might decide you want to have a job where you do more school and get special degrees.”

“Like what kinds of jobs?”

“Like a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe you want to work in a lab and do research on something. It’s a big world, Moe, and you can do whatever you set your mind to."

"I want to be an astronaut," Moe tells them.

"Well, there you go."

"Or I wanna be a cookie."

"Oh-" Steve's eyebrows furrow as Eddie starts to laugh. "Alright..."

"That's my girl," Eddie says, "Astronaut or pastry. I like it."

[marvelfanfics1]

Rafe, Sofia and reader but Rafe still learns Sofia made a deal with Groff they broke up but reader getting caught in the middle of it and not understanding what’s going on

You giggle as you watch Bluey on the tv, patiently waiting for Sofia who's making you a snack in the kitchen when she hears her phone ring, rounding the counter to grab her phone from the table and answers at seeing that it's Rafe.

"Hey, babe. What up?" She says and Rafe instantly gets to the point.

"Is it true?" He asks, his tone firm. "Is it true what Groff just told me? Is it?"

Sofia stays silent, not knowing how to respond but that alone was confirmation enough for him, scrunching his nose and nodding.

"A'ight, pack your shit. Get out of my house. God, after everything me and Y/n did for you." He says, the anger and overall betrayal he's feeling evident in his voice. "We're done. Done. I don't care if you tell her or not because I will do it either way, so don't even bother of sweet talking to her."

The line goes dead and she lowers her phone, tears brimming in her eyes that she tries to push back as she walks past you, making her way upstairs.

You knit your brows confused, getting up and following after her curiously. As you reach the bedroom your eyes widen when you catch Sofia packing a bag, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Mama? Wha' You doin'?" You question softly.

"I...I did something horrible. Rafe...he'll explain everything to you." She says, continuing to empty the drawers that held her clothes and you walk over to her.

"Mama stop. You're scarin' me..." You mumble, grabbing her wrists to stop her. "I don' understand..."

"I did something you both will never forgive me. I have to leave, I'm- I'm sorry." She sighs, freeing herself from your grip to place the last things in her bag, turning back to meet your now saddened gaze.

"Pwease." You plead, tearing up as well. "Don' go. I forgive you! Jus' don' go..."

Sofia smiles sadly at your determination, her heart breaking at how you don't hesitate to forgive her even though you don't even know what happened, that she betrayed you and Rafe by accepting the money from Hollis and persuading Rafe into making that deal that now cost him 400k.

"I'm sorry...for everything." She says, slinging the back over her shoulder she walks out of the room with you trailing behind her.

You watch helplessly as she puts on her shoes, placing the house keys she got from Rafe before he went to Morocco onto the counter near the entrance before opening the front door, glancing at you one last time.

Without another word she closes the door and you're left crying, not understanding what's going on when your phone rings, answering it while sobbing.

"Baby? It's me." Rafe starts speaking and you sob harder. "Shh, calm down first."

"I- I- mama jus-" You hiccup, clutching your stomach.

"I know, I know. You gotta calm down, yeah? Deep breaths." He instructs, doing exasperated breaths through the phone for you to mimic.

Slowly but surely your heavy sobs subsided to sniffles and small coughs.

"There we go...just like that. Better?" He asks and you shake your head even though he couldn't see.

"Mama s'gone. I- I wanted to stop her b-but she didn' listen." You cry, sliding down a nearby wall. "Daddy..."

"Ma- Sofia did something bad, kid...I don't want to tell you over the phone but I promise I'll tell you everything when I'm back, okay?" He says, running a hand over his head at hearing your broken sniffles, wanting nothing more but to cradle you in his arms right now, his heart aching. "Baby?"

"Come back now..." You whimper, having no one to run to while being this sad right now. "Pwease daddy..."

"I wish I could. I really do." He sighs. "I'm almost done here and will be back as soon as I can, I swear. I'll send Topper to check on you later, a'ight?"

"O-Otay..." You sniffle, pulling your knees to your chest and drawing shapes on your knees. "I-I lub you."

"I love you too, kid. Daddy will be home soon." He promises before the line goes dead. "Baby? Hello?" Rafe looks at the phone, cursing when it wouldn't turn back on, the battery probably empty.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[harrywavycurly]

Loving a Killer: Mistakes in a Hardware Store

Pairing: Killer!Harry x wife!reader

Masterlist: Here

CW: Harry is a tad bit over protective in this, threats of violence, semi angsty bits, language.

A/N: Harry had done something wrong and shockingly enough it has nothing to do with what he does for a living, so enjoy him trying to get you to forgive him✨

“Looking at it every five seconds isn’t going to make it magically start ringing you know that right?” Harry just ignores Mitch’s comment as he looks at his phone for the sixth time in the last five minutes, letting out a sigh when he all he’s met with is the date and time on his Lock Screen, no message from you or your name flashing across it like it normally does when you call him. “Trouble in paradise?” Mitch asks as he looks over and watches Harry run a hand through his hair as he tosses his phone onto his desk.

“She’s not talking to me.” Is all he says before he stands up and begins pacing the length of his desk while Mitch spins his chair around so his back is facing his own desk allowing him to watch his bestfriend have what he could only describe as a breakdown of some sort due to not having heard from you all day. Harry pauses and runs a hand over his face then just looks at Mitch over his shoulder. “I think she’s mad-”

“What did you do?” Harry lets out a groan as he walks over to his desk and places his hands flat on top of it and Mitch raises a brow at him when he notices him look down and close his eyes while letting out a deep sigh. “Harry tell me you didn’t-”

“You’ve got to stop assuming I’m walking around killing people without telling you.” Harry jokes as he lifts his head to send Mitch a glare. “I didn’t even really put my hands on anyone this time.” He explains making his friend just roll his eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Then what exactly did you do?”

“She went with me to get some stuff so I can fix the shed door in the backyard and while we were at the hardware store some dude came up to her and started chatting her up so I might’ve threatened him a little.”

“You’re such a hot head man you need to relax and realize your wife is a catch so dudes are going to want to try to flirt with her.”

“What the hell did you just say?” Mitch doesn’t even flinch at how harsh Harry’s tone is as he straightens himself up and takes a step towards him with a quirked brow, Mitch is extremely familiar to this side of his bestfriend. “I’m just supposed to let people flirt with her and think they have some sort of shot with her?”

“They’ll know they don’t have a shot with her because she’ll let them know. She doesn’t need you to do it.” Mitch casually explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world but Harry just lets out a scoff and throws his hands up in air, clearly annoyed at the idea of having his wife be the one to tell creeps to leave her alone.

“She shouldn’t have to worry about telling wanks who want to chat her up to fuck off.” He snaps while he walks back over to his desk to reach for his phone. “I’m her husband it’s my job to do that for her.” Mitch rolls his eyes at his explanation as he watches Harry tap away on his phone.

“No it’s your job to trust her and let her handle herself in situations like that.” Harry can’t help but feel his heart sink as Mitch’s words hit him, he knows he can be a tad bit overprotective when it comes to you and that often leads to him overreacting in certain situations but he’s never thought about how him reacting the way that he does could make you feel as if he doesn’t trust you or think you can’t handle yourself.

“I do trust her.” Mitch just nods as he uncrosses his arms so he can stand up from his chair. “I just-you know how I am with her.” He says with a sigh as Mitch takes a step towards him so he can place a hand on his shoulder.

“I know how you are with her and I know it’s because you love her but sometimes it’s a little much. But the real question is how are you gonna fix this?” Mitch asks as he gives Harry’s shoulder a squeeze before letting it go. “I hear flowers work wonders.” He suggests making Harry send him a glare making Mitch chuckle because sometimes it’s glaringly obvious how single Mitch is compared to Harry.

“Already had a bouquet delivered to her office this morning since she only works a half day today.” He mumbles and Mitch just gives him a nod of approval as he watches Harry tap a few things on his phone before he locks it and slides into his back pocket. “I have to go. You good to handle the rest of the day without me?” Harry questions making Mitch just brush him off as he turns to head back towards his desk.

“Yeah I’m fine we have that Gavin guy tomorrow and today is just paperwork.” Harry just nods at Mitch’s answer before he gathers his keys and tosses his work bag over his shoulder. “Good luck.” Mitch says with a smile as Harry gives him one more glance before turning and heading out their shared office door and down the hallway for the door that opens to the stairs leading up to the lobby of the building the two of them work at.

Harry hates the feeling he gets when he walks inside the front door, he’s not met with the usual warmth that always radiates off of you and seeps into his body and relaxes him as it makes its way from his tired feet all the way up to his sore shoulders. Today he’s met with silence and the utter coldness that comes with it and it’s almost enough to send a shiver down his spine, but the only thing that keeps him from turning around and leaving is that he knows you’re home because he parked next to your car in the driveway and he is willing to do anything get your warmth back into the house.

He knows where you’re at, it’s just something that he can’t help with what he does for a living he knows how to keep track of people when they’re in relatively close proximity to him. So as soon as he walked in the front door he could see your foot hanging off the love seat tucked away in the corner of the living room near the bookshelf next to the floor lamp that you opted to turn on instead of the main light. He acts as if he didn’t see you as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door and slips his shoes off before he makes his way into the kitchen where he places his work bag on the table, he can feel your eyes on him from the living room and he takes that as a decent sign that you’re even wanting to look at him.

He runs a hand through his hair as he contemplates his next move, he knows you don’t like confrontation so you won’t be the one to tell him you’re mad at him so if he wants this to get resolved in a timely manner he’s going to need to be the one to initiate the conversation but he’s just not in a hurry to hear you say you’re upset with him. So Harry does what he thinks is the best thing to do in the moment because he knows you, he knows what you really need from him in this moment and he’s more than willing to give it to you if it spares him, at least for a few minutes from having to hear you tell him how unhappy he made you the other day. He turns around and quietly heads into the living room, he watches as you close the book he knows you stopped reading the moment he walked through the front door and place it on the side table near the lamp. As soon as he’s in front of you he reaches down and grabs your hands as he drops to his knees, he looks at you as he brings your hands to his lips and places sweet kisses to your knuckles and he doesn’t miss the slight shade of pink your cheeks get at his actions.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes sure his words come out nice and clear so you don’t miss them between little pecks to your knuckles. “I know I made you upset yesterday and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have threatened him or-”

“We’ve had this conversation before haven’t we Harry?” You ask making Harry just swallow before nodding his head and he swears he feels his heart drop to his stomach when you turn and look away from him. “I know you want to protect me from all the creeps and jerks but Harry yesterday you-”

“Don’t say it.” He cuts you off as he lets your hands slip out of his as he stands up. “Please don’t say it.” His voice is low as he takes a small step away from you as he feels as if his world might be crumbling down around him as the thought of you telling him you were afraid of him bounces around in his head.

“Harry look at me.” He can’t help himself as he does what you ask because even though his whole world may feel like it’s on the verge of falling apart he’s still your husband, the man who hasn’t ever really been able to not do whatever it is you ask of him. “I’m not afraid of you.” He feels your hands on his arms slowly running up until they are cupping the sides of his face making sure he can’t look away from you. Your words take a moment to sink in through the layers of sheer panic and anxiety running through his mind but when they finally do Harry lets out a deep breath and feels as if his legs could give out at any moment with the amount of relief that washes over him.

“I was going to say that in that moment you were being one of the jerks you try to protect me from all the time.” All Harry can do is just nod because you’re right, he was being exactly the type of person he tries to keep you away from and honestly Harry is still recovering from the fact you admitted you aren’t afraid of him so a nod is the best he can do in the moment. “You threatened someone’s life all because he was asking me if I had any recommendations for a good weather resistant wood varnish.” When Harry rolls his eyes he instantly knows it’s a mistake because he feels your hands drop from his face making his lips turn downward into a slight frown while you take a few steps away from him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart but that was clearly a line and he was trying to flirt-”

“So him flirting with me means you need to come in and grab him by his shirt and tell him that if he so much as looks at me again the next project you’ll be working on will be his coffin?” Harry can count on one hand the amount of times you’ve raised your voice since he’s met you, each time has almost always been towards him and he hates that he’s the one who gets you to the point where you lose your ability to speak in your usual soft and gentle tone and are left with no choice but to make your voice louder and a little meaner in hopes it’ll help get your point across more clearly.

“I didn’t mean to grab him. That was a mistake.” He doesn’t make an attempt to get closer to you even though every part of him wants to reach out and pull you into him, he wants to give you the space you need to tell him exactly how his actions made you feel and he knows you won’t be able to do that if he crowds you. And as much as he normally loves to play dirty and use his knowledge against you, this time he wants you to get everything out because he wants to be better for you so if he has to stand here and take it for a few more minutes then so be it.

“Was that the only mistake you made yesterday?” He wants to say he really didn’t make any mistakes yesterday but he doesn’t, he just rubs his lips together as you place a hand on your hip letting him in on the fact you’re getting annoyed at this conversation.

“Please just answer me because I don’t want to argue with you anymore but I need to know if you really think that’s the only mistake you made yesterday.” Harry can tell by the slight pleading tone of your voice that you’re beginning to break, your walls of anger are starting to crumble and he can’t help himself but feel a small sense of relief because he can work with this, he can find a way to make your walls come down and get you to forgive him.

“No.” He answers as he takes a small cautious step towards you making you raise an eyebrow at him as a signal to have him elaborate on his answer. “I shouldn’t have threatened him or raised my voice in the store because I know how you feel about causing scenes in public.” He adds as he takes another small step towards you and he can’t help the small smirk that forms on his face when he sees your hand drop from your hip as you playfully roll your eyes at the mention of causing a scene.

“Anything else?” Your voice is much softer now and Harry feels like this is a good time to take a chance so he reaches an arm out so he can place a hand on your hip and he smiles when you don’t make any moves to wiggle out of his grasp or bring your own hand down to push his away.

“Letting you give me the silent treatment for the rest of the day. That’s probably the biggest mistake I made because you know how much I love hearing you talk.” Now normally you’d take that as a tease of some sort but Harry’s not an idiot, or at least not in this moment so he’s sure to sound as serious as possible without ruining the lighthearted mood that’s beginning to form between the two of you.

“You love hearing me talk?” Harry just gives you a smile as he ever so gently pulls you closer to him by his hold on your hip.

“Your voice is one of my favorite sounds.” He admits without a single drop of hesitation because it’s the truth. “Especially right before you fall asleep and it’s this mixture of a whisper and just mumbles of nonsense.” His eyes stare into yours as he raises his free hand so he can brush a few strands of hair out of your face and back behind your ear. “But my favorite is when it’s got this hint of excitement to it like when you’re telling me about a new book you found that you’re now obsessed with or better yet the rants you go on about books you hate those are very fun and your voice gets this almost twinge of absolute disgust to it that I always find entertaining because it’s so rare you find something you don’t like.” He keeps his hand on the side of your face cupping your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek.

“So really baby it about killed me not getting to hear your voice for a whole day all because I was an asshole and couldn’t handle some guy flirting with you in a Home Depot.” He wants to pull your face towards his and seal his words with a kiss but he doesn’t, he’s a gentleman after all and knows it’s only right to let you decide when he’s earned his kissing privileges back sees as you just broke the day long silent treatment you were giving him not even five minutes ago.

“His name was Brad.” Harry’s grip on your hip tightens a little while he other hand falls from your face as you give him an unwanted detail of your encounter yesterday. “Maybe if you knew that before you went all crazy on him you would’ve reconsidered? Because who’s going to pick some dude named Brad over their hot husband named Harry?” He just chuckles as you give him a playful smirk while reaching your hands up to grab both sides of his face.

“Well when you put it like that.” He jokes as he feels you begin to pull his face down towards yours. “I really am sorry sweetheart I swear it won’t happen again.” He whispers as he bumps the tip of his nose into yours making you smile.

“I know you are and that’s why I forgive you.” That’s all Harry needs to hear before he allows himself to close the gap between his lips and yours, he feels you smile against his lips as you pull him even closer to you when you feel him try to pull away.

“I love you.” He mumbles between kisses making you giggle as your hands go from his face down to his chest so you can grip onto his shirt while his hand holds onto the back of your neck.

In this moment Harry knows that the two of you are going to be okay, that while you may hate how he over reacts and gets a little too protective at times, you still love him and haven’t decided to give up on him or at least not yet. So Harry decides right then and there that he’s going to actually try to be better, but while he really will try he can’t promise he won’t mess up every now and then because he’s still Harry, and when it comes to you he doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay with people getting too close or being too friendly.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Sixteen

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Sixteen: Teruhashi's Tears and Rifuta's Crush

Summary: Teruhashi comes over and interrupts Saiki's New Year, but somehow she isn't the worst guest that comes. Also, (Y/N)'s hypothesis is spot-on about Rifuta.

            Mr. and Mrs. Saiki laughed as (Y/N) told them about one of the many (unfortunate) adventures they had been on with Saiki—this time a tale of the karaoke party where Saiki had to end up performing. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t want his parents to know he’d done something so public since it would encourage them to bother him to do stupid stuff in front of people, but it was a fond memory since (Y/N) had been there, taken most of the attention, and made the entire thing worth it. So, he let (Y/N) continue as they beamed when they remembered dancing around and pretended to do it again. All-in-all, this was turning out to be a perfect New Year’s Day.

            Alright, I’ve got the plan! I casually tell him Happy New Year, and then when I mention the festival, he’ll want to come along!

            Saiki’s mood darkened. Of course Teruhashi was already here to bother him on a lovely day. So, to stop her from interrupting, he grabbed onto the doorbell of his house with his psychic abilities and smothered the sound of it.

            There. No ruining my day.

            “Hey, can I help you?”

            Saiki jerked as he heard a voice speaking to Teruhashi. He hadn’t heard any other thoughts approaching, and the voice—

            Him!

            “What’s wrong, Kusuo?” asked (Y/N), noticing Saiki’s tiny change in mood.

            There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Saiki stood. She peered out the window and beamed.

            “It’s Kusuke and Kokomi!” she said. “What a lovely surprise.”

            Oh, that explains his mood, thought (Y/N), smothering a little chuckle. Saiki saw their amusement and scowled—though there was no real malice. (Y/N) chuckled and patted his hand. “We’ll deal with it.”

            “Don’t let them in,” said Saiki as his mom headed to the door, but she was already opening the door.

            “Welcome in!” she said, beaming. “Oh, Kusuke, you’re home!”

            “Mom, it’s been a while,” said Kusuke, smiling.

            “Happy New Year,” greeted Teruhashi politely. She saw (Y/N) and started slightly. “Oh, (Y/N). You’re here?”

            Fortunately for Teruhashi, there was no annoyance at seeing them. They were friends, and that friendship meant Teruhashi’s inevitable jealousy at not getting Saiki alone was dampened. (And that was fortunate for Teruhashi because bad thoughts about (Y/N) meant getting onto Saiki’s bad side).

            “My parents are out of town on a work trip,” said (Y/N), smiling. “The Saikis were nice enough to invite me over.”

            That was the complete truth, they merely left out that Mrs. Saiki had also rambled about how “if (Y/N)’s family wasn’t going to take care of them as a family, then they were going to be part of the Saiki family, and Kusuo should get a move on and make sure they never leave because they’re just too sweet and—” (and so on and so forth).

            “When are your parents actually at the house?” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) shrugged. They were pretty much used to living independently at this point.

            “Wait, do you two know each other?” said Mr. Saiki, looking between Teruhashi and Kusuke.

            “She was ringing the doorbell, so I brought her in,” said Kusuke. His intelligence had just known it would irritate Saiki.

            “The doorbell?” said Mr. Saiki.

            “Oh, my, I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear it!” said Mrs. Saiki.

            (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at Saiki. He looked away, and they tutted.

            This is a huge revelation! I had no idea Saiki had an older brother! thought Teruhashi. But I don’t really like his type…Speaking of siblings “Is Kuriko here today?”

            “What?” said Saiki’s parents.

            Oh, right. Saiki had forgotten about his feminine name. I pretended to by my own sister, who doesn’t exist. I have to let them know.

            “Kuriko?” said Mrs. Saiki, frowning.

            “Oh, right, kuriko!” Mr. Saiki grabbed something from the kitchen—literal kuriko. “Here is kuriko for you.”

            That’s kuri chestnut paste.

            “No, I mean Saiki’s sister,” said Teruhashi. She looked at (Y/N). “You met her.”

            “Right,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Isn’t it amazing how similar she and Kusuo look? Especially since their brother—”

            “You can call me Kusuke,” said Kusuke.

            “No.” Saiki didn’t need him being familiar or friendly with his partner.

            “—looks so different with the blonde hair. Kuriko and Kusuo both have pink,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s true,” said Teruhashi, smiling.

            Good clue, thought Saiki. Hopefully his parents would get the hint.

            “I don’t know any Kur—Mm!”

            Kusuke shoved the kuri chestnut paste into his dad’s mouth and smiled. “Oh, of course! Our sister, Kuriko.” Of course the genius had figured the plot out. “She’s abroad right now, like I was. You know her?”

            “Oh, really?” said Mr. Saiki, still a little confused but starting to get it.

            “I do,” said Teruhashi.

            Unbelievable, thought Saiki.

            “Which country did she go to?” asked Teruhashi.

            “Paraguay,” said Mr. Saiki.

            “Paraguay?” said Teruhashi, amazed.

            “Shut up,” said Saiki to Mr. Saiki.

            “Kusuo, I have a present for you!” said Kusuke, successfully changing the subject (not that a “gift” from Kusuke would be much better than the present conversation). “I have one for you, too, (Y/N)!” He held up envelopes.

            Never mind, this is good. Saiki could see the money inside with his x-ray vision.

            “Oh, I can’t accept that,” said (Y/N), waving their hands.

            Teruhashi glanced between (Y/N) and the envelope. Saiki’s brother prepared a gift for them? That’s very close…

            “Well, you are Kusuo’s pa—”

            “Pal!” interrupted (Y/N) before Kusuke could blurt out the word “partner.” Embarrassed, they took the enveloped and bowed. “Thank you!”

            Close one… (Y/N) and Saiki breathed a sigh of relief.

            We need to get out of here, thought Saiki. He tapped (Y/N) on the shoulder and gestured to the door.

            They nodded and grabbed their coat—pink with hearts embroidered on the pockets. They headed towards the door, and Saiki pulled on his boots.

            “We should invite Kokomi,” whispered (Y/N).

            “No,” said Saiki. He wanted a nice moment with (Y/N).

            “She and Kusuke with each other is going to be a problem,” pointed out (Y/N).

            Saiki hated they were right. “Fine, but then we go out the two of us.”

            “Of course,” said (Y/N), kissing Saiki’s cheek before going back to the living room to invite Kokomi.

            Saiki let out a little sigh. Oh, wow. He’d never get tired of their affection.

l

            This is the worst-case scenario. Saiki glared ahead of himself as Kusuke walked through the crowd with them.

            Why is his brother tagging along? Teruhashi had deflated. With (Y/N) at least that was a friend and she could still have a moment with Saiki—Not happening—but with Kusuke, that was going to be weird.

            I should have known Kusuke would tag along, thought (Y/N). The genius had known what would annoy Saiki.

            I need to get out of here with (Y/N), decided Saiki. Risking Teruhashi and Kusuke interacting was fine—he was too tired to care.

            “By the way, do you have a crush on Kusuo?” said Kusuke, turning around with an “innocent” smile. He looked directly at Teruhashi.

            Her face promptly turned several shades of red, and she coughed. “You shouldn’t embarrass Saiki like that!” she said nervously. “And we’re just friends! It’s nothing more!”

            “Oh, good,” said Kusuke.

            He knows she’s lying. (Y/N) and Saiki exchanged a worried glance.

            I knew I wouldn’t like him, thought Teruhashi.

            “I mean, you obviously don’t have anything in common,” said Kusuke, still with that “innocent” smile. “You’re different as night and day.”

            “What?” said Teruhashi. “Saiki and I have plenty—”

            “What are you saying?” Kusuke’s smile had dropped, and he looked at her coldly.

            “What?” said Teruhashi.

            “I can see through you. You’re not worthy of Kusuo,” said Kusuke.

            Teruhashi froze. No one had ever spoken to her like that.

            “You thought you could fool me?” said Kusuke. “Well, it’s to be expected. You probably have been pampered your whole life because of your looks. But Kusuo is on a different level.”

            “Hey!” said (Y/N), glaring at him. “Leave Kokomi alone!” Even if they knew Teruhashi didn’t have a chance with Saiki, Kusuke was just being mean.

            I realize now why I don’t like this guy, thought Teruhashi, staring at Kusuke with wide, shocked eyes. He hasn’t gasped even once since meeting me. There’s never been anyone who wasn’t interested in me.

            “Come on, Kokomi. Let’s leave this jerk,” said (Y/N), taking Teruhashi’s hand. Kusuke had been unnecessarily cruel, and (Y/N) wasn’t going to stand around while their friend was hurt.

            “Don’t look at me like that, Kusuo,” said Kusuke as Saiki glared. “I was just teasing her. We both know only one person is worthy of you, and that’s because they aren’t shallow and have some real spirit! They stand up to everyone! That’s some real power against a monster like you.”

            Saiki ignored the insults directed at him and the compliments towards (Y/N). (He wasn’t sure whether to be pleased that his entire family liked (Y/N) or irritated that even his annoying brother liked them).

            “Kokomi?” said (Y/N), gazing at their friend in worry. They still held her hand.

            I’ve never felt such shame. I won’t forgive him! declared Teruhashi. She sniffled, and a tear fell. “I��I never meant to—”

            “Sorry, I know you’re a talented actress, too,” said Kusuke, looking past the crying. But everyone else was glaring at him as the crowd noticed the perfect pretty girl crying. “What’s going on? These people are surrounding us.”

            “They’re surrounding you. Not us,” said Saiki, taking (Y/N)’s hand and pulling them back as the crowd advanced on Kusuke.

            My secret pretty girl technique, Angel Tears! thought Teruhashi.

            “Who do you think you are?!” shouted the crowd. “You made Teruhashi cry!” They rushed Kusuke.

            “Are these all her boyfriends?” he remarked.

            “We’ll bash your head in!” cried the crowd.

            “Kusuo? (Y/N)?” Kusuke sweat-dropped and looked at them.

            “What do you want us to do?” said Saiki, deadpan.

            “Get him!” The crowd jumped onto Kusuke.

            “Wow, he was defeated by Kokomi,” said (Y/N), impressed.

            “And there’s a perfect distraction.” Saiki pulled (Y/N) through the crowd as Teruhashi watched her “hard work” proudly.

            “Shouldn’t we be worried about Kusuke?” said (Y/N), looking back at the crowd.

            “He’ll be fine. He always has a plan,” said Saiki.

            “Fair enough,” chuckled (Y/N). “And he does deserve a little bit of fear for being so mean.”

            Saiki smirked. He agreed. And, now, as he pulled (Y/N) far away from Teruhashi and her fans, he could really enjoy the New Year Festival. With (Y/N) and only (Y/N).

            “We should go on the Ferris Wheel,” said (Y/N) excitedly, squeezing his hand.

            “Okay.” Anything they wanted, they were getting.

            And so, he let them lead him to the line and watched them grin out the window of the compartment all the way to the top. (Y/N) smiled as they saw the city spread out before them, all the people small and faraway.

            “So pretty,” they said, smiling.

            “Very,” agreed Saiki. But he wasn’t looking at the view. No, he was looking at the smile on (Y/N)’s face. And, unable to help himself—why would he when they looked so handsome in the golden light of the sun—he leaned and kissed their cheek.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, they turned towards him, and, before he could pull back, (Y/N) kissed him. Saiki happily kissed back.

            A perfect New Years.

            What could be better than this?

l

            “We have a problem,” said Saiki as the lunch bell rang.

            “Huh?” said (Y/N). “Are you alright?”

            “Rifuta is going to try to confess to me,” said Saiki.

            “Uh-oh,” said (Y/N). They had forgotten about Rifuta developing a crush on Saiki (though they also knew that Rifuta 100% also had a crush on Teruhashi and was a bit confused).

            “Let’s leave to eat lunch before she gets here,” said Saiki.

            “Got it,” said (Y/N), grabbing their bento box and following Saiki out. They took the long way around the school and headed to the yard. There were too many people around for Rifuta to confess, so that was good.

            “I’ve been using my telepathy to give her dreams so that she hates me, but it’s not working,” said Saiki.

            “She and Kokomi are very single-minded,” said (Y/N). They paused. “But I think that Rifuta is just a bit confused. Maybe if you get her to realize she’s head-over-heels for Kokomi more than she is for you, that’ll help?”

            “…She’d hate me for Teruhashi liking me, and then my reputation would be ruined,” said Saiki.

            “Fair point.” (Y/N) winced. They’d seen Kusuke get dragged away by people who were angry that Teruhashi was upset, and they didn’t want to see what would happen to Saiki if he upset Rifuta—it wouldn’t be as bad as upsetting Teruhashi, but it wasn’t preferable. “So what do we do?”

            “I don’t know,” said Saiki.

            “…What if we acted closer?” said (Y/N).

            Saiki looked at them. “What?”

            “If Rifuta thinks you’re dating someone, she’ll back off. She’s just competing with Teruhashi, not really interested in you, so it could help,” said (Y/N). They waved their hands. “I-It doesn’t have to be me so it’s not obvious we’re really dating, we can get Miko or something, but it’s just an idea—”

            “Let’s do it.” Saiki was desperate to get Rifuta off his back, and maybe being unavailable would explain his “unbelievable” disinterest in Rifuta.

            “Okay, I’ll text Miko—”

            “No, you and me.”

            “Are you sure? If she really believes we’re dating, that’s another person finding out,” said (Y/N). “And it could get out that we’re dating—”

            “If it does, it does. It has to happen at some point,” said Saiki.

The blowback from Teruhashi and the craziness of people finding out would be troublesome, but if it meant just being himself with (Y/N), in public, then he was fine with it. (Y/N) and Saiki both knew their relationship as their business and no one else’s, but they supposed it would have to happen at some point.

            Plus, this could begin to get the idea of them dating into people’s heads so when it finally came out it made a sense. It eased people into it so they didn’t freak. (Honestly, it was fairly obvious to the audience that they liked one another, so why wouldn’t it be for people in the story?)

            “Okay,” said (Y/N). “Then we’ll act affectionate to get Rifuta to realize you’re not interested for a real reason.”

            Saiki nodded.

l

            (Y/N) counted to ten as Saiki entered the lobby of the school to get his shoes. Rifuta was waiting for him, and he had walked right by her. Now it was their turn. They were a little giddy at the idea of being affectionate with Saiki in public. They weren’t a huge PDA person, and they didn’t care about people knowing they were dating—they didn’t act much differently than they had before except for being sweeter and kissing—but this was still fun.

            Alright. Here we go.

            “Kusuo!” (Y/N) smiled as they rounded the corner and walked up to Saiki. They took his hand. “Are you ready to go out?” They leaned in, their head on his shoulder.

            “What?” Rifuta couldn’t help but speak aloud as she stared at the sight. He’s got a partner?! Really? No way!

            “I am,” said Saiki, brushing their hair from their face affectionately. “Let’s go.”

            “Saiki! Is that your partner?” said Rifuta, getting right to it. Her hands were on her hips as she looked between the pair.

            Didn’t expect her to be so direct. I guess someone else is really finding out today.

            “I am,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            “Your Teruhashi’s friend and are dating him?” said Rifuta, hands on her hips.

            “Hm? What does Teruhashi have to do with who’s dating him?” said (Y/N), tilting their head in “confusion.”

            They don’t know Teruhashi likes him?! Oh, no! How will Teruhashi feel?!

            Saiki heard Rifuta’s thoughts and blinked. (Y/N)’s analysis of a suppressed crush on Teruhashi was correct.

            “W-Well, uh, doesn’t your friend know?” said Rifuta, trying to cover.

            “I think relationships are very private. Don’t you?” said (Y/N), smiling and friendly as ever.

            “I, uh, I guess—” Rifuta was growing confused by her worry for Teruhashi and how to react to (Y/N) still being sweet as usual. No thoughts of liking Saiki herself came to her mind—Saiki was pleased by that. I don’t feel jealousy, hate, or anything. Weird. I’m just confused. I guess I don’t like him after all?

            Looks like it went well, thought Saiki.

            But then why do I still feel so upset? Why does my stomach hurt? Why do I keep thinking about how Teruhashi will react to this? thought Rifuta.

            “Uh, oh, Kusuo, Kokomi’s coming,” said (Y/N), seeing a glow appearing at the end of the hall. “I don’t think we can risk her finding out.” Her crush was still so steady that the blowback to their friendship would be horrendous.

            Oh, no! Teruhashi is coming! She’ll see them together! I have to do something!

            What?

            Rifuta shoved (Y/N) and Saiki forward, and they stumbled into the storage closet. She slammed it closed behind them and stood in front.

            …Huh?

            I did not see that coming.

            “Oh, Imu!” said Teruhashi, spotting her friend. “Long time no see.”

            “Y-Yes,” said Rifuta, growing nervous.

            “What’s was that?” whispered (Y/N), looking at Saiki.

            “I don’t know.” He supported himself by his arms, but they were still incredibly close in the cramped closet. “Ask the girl who shoved us in here.”

            “Are you on your way home?” said Teruhashi, smiling.

            “Yes, I’ll be leaving soon, too,” said Rifuta. Why did I cover for them? Because she would be sad if she saw?

            “Let’s go home together!” Teruhashi grinned and linked her arm with Rifuta’s.

            Rifuta blushed, and her heart pounded. She’s so close! Wow! Shaking her head, she pulled away. No, no way! If you think everything is fine, you’re mistaken! She steeled herself and looked at Teruhashi. “Do you like Saiki, Teruhashi?” If she admits she likes him, I’ll open the door and show her! I’ll make you cry your eyes out!

            Saiki and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. If they were found like this and their relationship came out—Oh, boy. Teruhashi would be upset, and they’d be hunted down for the rest of their days.

            Nervously, Teruhashi blushed. “Y-yes. I’ve never really liked a boy before, so I’m not sure, but I think I do.”

            “Why? Was it love at first sight?” said Rifuta.

            “No. I was the opposite,” said Teruhashi. “At first, I didn’t like how he was never attracted to me. I was so angry with him that I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

            I see. I get it now, thought Rifuta.

            I knew it was the idea of someone not treating her as a pretty thing to look at, thought (Y/N). Teruhashi needed to be valued as more than her looks, and Saiki was the first person to look at her without paying attention to her appearance, which was attractive to her.

            Teruhashi! I love you! Rifuta hugged Teruhashi suddenly.

            “Not what I expected,” murmured Saiki.

            “Huh?” said (Y/N).

            “She loves Teruhashi,” said Saiki. “You were right.”

            I’ll never beat her beauty and kindness! Rifuta held Teruhashi close.

            “What’s going on, Imu?” asked Teruhashi, confused.

            I’m so hopeless! I love her! Rifuta smiled with a wide smile.

            “I knew it,” asid (Y/N), smiling.

            “What’s the matter?” asked Teruhashi.

            I felt such anger because Saiki didn’t choose Teruhashi, but now I’m so relieved you weren’t taken from me. “I’m rooting for you!” said Rifuta. Even if she was lying a bit, she wanted Teruhashi to be in a fulfilling relationship. “I want you to be happy!”

            “What’s gotten into you?” asked Teruhashi, worried at the sudden change in attitude.

            “This is so much worse,” said Saiki.

            “It’s nothing. Let’s go home together,” said Rifuta.

            “She’s going to help Teruhashi,” groaned Saiki as Rifuta and Teruhashi walked away from the closet.

            “Uh-oh. I guess this backfired a bit?” said (Y/N), wincing. “Sorry. It was my idea.”

            Saiki shook his head. “It’s fine. Rifuta just had a realization. It had to happen at some point.”

            “Who else would be someone’s gay awakening?” laughed (Y/N) slightly. They reached for the door handle. “At least we can leave now and one less person has a crush on you. And we didn’t get found in here. That would have been a scandal.”

            “Scandalous, huh?” Saiki smirked slightly.

            (Y/N) looked at his expression. “Uh, Kusuo? You alright?”

            Saiki leaned in and kissed them. (Y/N) was surprised but kissed back—they weren’t saying no to a kiss from Saiki. One of his hands supporting himself went to their waist and pulled them closer. (Y/N)’s felt the pressure and smiled into the kiss. Their hands rose and tangled into his hair as he kissed them.

            When the passionate kiss ended, Saiki leaned his forehead against theirs. “That is scandalous.”

            (Y/N) looked at him, breathless. “When did you become a flirt?”

            Saiki just smiled, leaned back in, and kissed them.

            “We—” kiss “—have—” kiss “—to—” kiss “—go—” kiss “—home—” (Y/N) spoke between kisses.

            Effortlessly, Saiki teleported them and their belongings back to his house, all the while continuing to kiss them. “There. Let me kiss you.”

            (Y/N) laughed, pulled him in, and kissed him.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

@melovepurple

@sleep-7372

@w0mank1sser

@geminigengar

@noodleryworld

@leonardo-dabitchy

@janezee12751275

@xenop0p

@ex160-blog1

@boogiemansbitch

@dmitrytherat

@yuriisclumsy

@sixxze

@constellationguy

@k03ume

@sweatyinternettrash

@paastaboi

@unorthodox-gob

@girlswhopanic

@h-i-g-h-w-a-y-t-o-h-e-l-l-l

@drowningfishy

@rinwho

@izzieg3987

@candylp

@jmclouds

@ittomain1

@justamina-blog

@newtscreatures347269

@digital-dumbass

@chronovala

@yappydoo

@mymomsdisappointment

@lvvcian

@kyliexreads

@b3bybunny

@sle3pyh3ad2

@snowy-violet

@jaguarthecat

@isaacdaknight

@newttheglue250

@thelameone101

@peqch-pie

@rai-xxx

@loverzxi

@s0ggyrats

@introvertathome

@pandaquick

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

---

I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

---

This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.