#i'll have to see what they have when i go there. still not happening for at least a few more days.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Like he means it

Pairing: Roommate!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You can’t take another night of hearing Bucky fuck a girl who isn’t you.

Word Count: 13.6k

Warnings: Bucky is a fuckboy (but he’s still a sweetheart); lots of talk about unrequited love (but is it?); mentions of sex; crying; lots of desperation; longing; heavy confessions; feels; happy ending

Author’s Note: This is written for the lovely cinema themed writing challenge of @elixirfromthestars ♡ I had this kind of idea for a while but when I read those lyrics it somehow immediately came back to my mind and I needed to make something out of it. This is kind of inspired by your Boulevard Confessions because I loved it so much! And damn, I've already written so much about roommate!Bucky but I can’t help myself lol, I love him. Also, this got a little long, I'm sorry. Still, I hope you enjoy! ♡

Hold My Hand "Pull me close, wrap me in your aching arms. I see that you're hurtin', why'd you take so long to tell me you need me? I see that you're bleeding, you don't need to show me again. But if you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you. I won't let go 'til the end." — Lady Gaga

Masterlist

You hear the giggling before anything else.

It’s always the giggling.

And, as always, it grates on your nerves.

It carves through the air, seeps into the walls, into the floorboards, into you. It tears its way inside and scrapes its manicured nails along the rawest and most sensitive parts of you, only to bury itself deep, where you can’t simply dig it out.

Then comes the keys.

The light, metallic jingle, so careless in its melody, but so troubling in its meaning.

Then the lock turning, the click soft and yet so irrefutable.

Then the door opening.

More giggles.

His breathy chuckles.

Then the door closing.

Shoes being kicked off, one hitting the wall.

You press the pillow harder against your ears, as if you could suffocate the sound before it reaches you, as if you could bury yourself deep enough under the covers to escape what you already know is coming. But you can’t. You never can.

Your brain usually does you the favors of drowning out the parts in the hallway, knowing it will probably make your heart stop in an instant. Today, it doesn’t do you any favors and you close your eyes, accepting the sting behind them.

And then, his bedroom door.

And if all that wasn’t torture enough, it was only the easy part.

Because now is when it really starts. It’s when your throat closes up, the breath in your lungs turns heavy, thick, impossible. Because no matter how many times this has happened, no matter how many times you laid here in your bed, still, so still, waiting for the agony to stop, pretending it doesn’t happen - it never stops hurting. It never stops breaking your heart - or whatever’s left of it.

At first, there is silence. The small period where you almost dare to believe, to hope.

But then comes the moaning.

High-pitched and breathy, hinting at a pleasure that strikes you with a hammer.

Someone else. Always someone else. Someone who is not you, someone who never had to try, someone who will never know what it means to ache for him like you do.

Then, quieter, but just as devastating, Bucky’s voice. The low sound of him unraveling. The sound of something slipping from him that you will never be able to take.

And that’s what breaks you most. That’s what turns the ache into utter misery. Madness even. It’s the inescapable proof that he has something to give - something deep, something intimate - and he is giving it away. Over and over again, but never to you.

You close your eyes, as always. It doesn’t help, as always. The sounds don’t stop anyway. The images come anyway - the touches you have imagined, the way his hands would feel against your skin, the way his mouth would shape your name if you were the one beneath him. The way he might look at you, if only he could see.

But right now, you are just the ghost in the next room, curled in on yourself, ears filled with the sound of someone else living the life you always wanted.

And in the morning, or right after, when the door will open again, when the giggling will turn to goodbyes, you will still be here, where you always are. Where you always will be. Waiting. Wanting. Breaking. Wishing you could turn it off, this feeling. This unendurable and never-ending heartbreak.

And that finally makes the tears flow.

They well up before they spill over, down the slope of your cheek, gathering in the hollow beneath your nose before falling onto the pillow and wetting it like a pool.

You squeeze your eyes shut, so tightly it should hurt, so tightly it should make them stop. But they come anyway. They come despite the barricade of your willpower, despite the way your body coils tighter in on itself. They come despite the desperate war you wage against them.

They come because you have lost. Because it’s too much.

The moaning doesn’t stop, and it’s too much. It’s the middle of the night, and it’s too much. It’s the third night in a row, and it’s too much.

Bucky’s hushed voice shatters something inside of you, you didn’t know was left intact a few seconds ago.

Your breath turns sticky, only half of it making its way up your throat. The other half stays attached to the walls of your throat like honey gone rancid. It refuses to leave completely, snagging and trapping you in the awful space between breathing and choking.

Maybe if it stopped altogether, it would be easier. Maybe suffocating would be gentler than this slow and unsparing death of heartbreak.

Your hands are shaking. You bury your face into the pillow, willing it to just take you as a whole and never let you leave again. The fabric muffles the shuddering sobs, but it cannot do anything for the way your body trembles. But you know that the sounds of pleasure in the other room will tune out the sounds of your cries. The pillow is being clutched so tightly, you might tear the fabric. But it’s your heart that’s being torn into so many pieces. So what is a pillow compared to the ruin of your heart? It’s nothing.

You are alone in your grief.

The moans stop for a second - abrupt, cut off mid-breath.

Bucky’s voice comes. He says something but you don’t catch his words.

However, you do catch the displeased groan of his girl for the night. Drawn-out and petulant. Annoyed.

Bucky speaks again. Firmer, this time. Again, it’s too quiet to catch it.

And then you hear your name. It’s muffled still, but you would hear your name coming from his lips always and forever. You know the exact cadence of it shaping his mouth.

Everything in you halts. Your breaths are suspended somewhere in your throat, caught between shock and devastation.

The girl scoffs. It’s a snappy sound. Almost whiny. You would have rolled your eyes if you weren’t so troubled.

The moaning resumes. But it is quieter this time. Controlled almost. A courtesy. A mercy. But not for you. Not in the way you wish.

And it makes you know.

He asked her to keep it down. For you. He must have told her he has a roommate - you - and that they need to be mindful, that you might be trying to sleep.

Somehow, in all the infinite ways he could have cared for you, this is the one he chose. Not to love you, not to want you, but to make sure his flings don’t disrupt your sleep. As if that’s the worst of it. As if the noise is what truly keeps you up at night, and not the agonizing truth of it all.

Harshly, your teeth sink into your lip, fighting to stifle the sob that trembles on the edge of you. But again, you are losing.

Because hearing your name in the middle of something so intimate, spoken in the same breath of his pleasure, is pure anguish.

Because your name should not exist there. Not like this. Not casually sneaking into a mind occupied with pleasuring someone else.

If he were to say your name in a moment like this, it should be a soft whisper against your skin, entangled in sheets, buried in kisses that steal the air from your lungs. It should be something private, something sacred.

Not an idle afterthought. A consideration. A passing thought before he loses himself in someone else’s body. You have never heard him say any girl’s name before when sleeping with them, but hell you also don’t try to listen too closely.

You won’t talk about this. You never talk about this. When the morning comes and you meet Bucky in the kitchen for breakfast, you will not mention it. Just like you never mention the other nights. Just like you never dwell on the soft apologies he offers when they got too loud. And just like always, you will brush it off, force a brittle smile, and tell him that it’s fine.

It’s not. It never has been. And you don’t think you ever manage to make it sound like you mean it. But you are gone before Bucky can push or apologize again. Or see how deep the knife has gone.

Because he might be careful to be quiet. But he will never be careful enough to stop breaking your heart.

So what is the point?

You don’t want to do another morning like this.

You can’t do another morning like this.

Not three times in a row.

Not when the night has already taken your soul and what was precious of it, barely sewn together by the time the sun fights its way through the window.

Not when you know how it will play out. Like it has the day before. And the day before that.

The door to his room will creak open, the girl already gone. You will hear the shuffle of his bare feet against the floor, the sigh as he stretches, and the yawn that usually makes it past his lips. He never tries to stifle it.

And then, him standing there and watching you.

Disheveled. Bed hair sticking up in a mess. You never let your mind wander to how her fingers might have something to do with that. His shirt would loosely hang over his frame, probably thrown on in a hurry, collar askew, revealing a sliver of skin you shouldn’t be looking at.

That lazy and slightly flustered smile. Sleep still in the corners of his eyes, his lips, his voice, when he greets you with a scratchy morning.

Like nothing happened. Like he didn’t shatter you into a thousand unfixable pieces last night. And the night before that. And now this night.

You will do your best to greet him back without sounding pained. Focusing on making coffee. The way the steam normally curls into the air, the warmth of the mug in your hands. You will have to focus on it as if it’s the only thing keeping you upright.

And despite knowing you shouldn’t - despite hating yourself for it - you will slide a cup toward him. As you always do.

His smile would shift. Settling into something fond, something warm, something that digs its claws into your ribs and refuses to let go.

Because that’s usually the worst part. He’s always so sweet with you. Thoughtful, affectionate in ways that don’t count. In the ways that make you feel like maybe if you just hold on a little longer, if you wait just a little more, he might start feeling what you do.

But you are certain, he won’t.

Because for him, everything seems fine. For him, this will be just another morning. Another easy, comfortable start to the day. With his eyes on you and sipping his coffee, exhaling like he is finally at peace, and leaning against the counter with a lightness that always has your stomach all up in shambles.

He always makes it seem so normal. Starting conversation with you, talking to you as if nothing has changed. Like you didn’t spend the night curled in on yourself, swallowing down sobs so thick they feel like razor blades. Like you didn’t spend the night choking on the sound of him with her.

He never mentions them. Never says any of the girl’s names, not that you even know what they are. He never makes plans to see them again. Just another faceless but very loud girl. One to be forgotten.

But tomorrow night, there will be another.

Tomorrow night will be the same.

And in the morning nothing will have happened.

Only him standing there with his sleep-mussed hair and that sweet, easy smile, drinking the coffee you should have stopped making for him a long, long time ago.

You rise out of bed, not even aware of it. The cold air nips at your tear-streaked cheeks, your sheets thrown back in a mass of tangled fabric still warm from the ball your body was curled in, breaking in silence. The pillow is still wet.

Your hands move on their own, tugging on slacks, yanking a hoodie over your head as though the fabric could hide you, save you from the devastation caving a hole into your chest.

You fumble for your phone before throwing open your bedroom door.

The moans are louder again. Yanking at your resolve and laughing at the way your tears keep coming.

Your feet move faster. You don’t actually run, but it feels like running. Like fleeing. Escaping a burning building before it collapses. The living room comes into view and it’s like a cruel trick, like the universe is taunting you, because all you see are phantoms.

The coffee machine on the counter. How many times have you two stood there, still tousled with sleep, you making coffee for the both of you because Bucky burns everything. How many times did he lean on the counter, watching you with that stupid little half-smirk, pretending to judge your process but always humming in satisfaction when he took the first sip.

The bookshelf in the corner - the one you swore you could build on your own. And you tried, you really did, but the second the screwdriver slipped and you gasped out loud, Bucky was there immediately. Hands on yours, worry furrowing his brows, grumbling about your stubbornness and continuing to grumble when he passive-aggressively built it himself.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, watching him, pretending to be annoyed but secretly savoring the way he kept glancing at you, again and again, to make sure you were okay and giving you instructions as to how it’s done but throwing you a glare when you insisted on trying again.

The carpet. The same one you both collapsed onto after a night out with your friends, too tipsy to move, giggling like teenagers as you pointed at the ceiling, pretending to find constellations in the uneven paint. He named one after you. You named one after him. You fell asleep there, side by side, and when you woke up he was so close. So close.

The couch. The one he practically melted into last week when he had a fever, whining dramatically until you caved and brought him soup. He kept pulling you back when you tried to leave, pouting like a child, demanding your attention because I’m sick, doll. Can’t ignore me when I’m sick. Until you sighed and sat down, letting his head rest in your lap. He fell asleep like that. Snoring. And you didn’t have the heart to move.

And now he is in his room, tangled in her, moaning into her skin, kissing her - like it doesn’t mean anything. Like none of it ever meant anything.

Your breath is uneven, your hands shaking as you grab your shoes. The laces blur, your vision fogs, but you can’t stop.

You throw open the door to your shared apartment, barely thinking, barely breathing, only moving. It swings back into the frame with a sharp sound echoing through the hallway, louder than you had intended. But it doesn’t matter now. Because you are sure that Bucky doesn’t hear it. He doesn’t notice. He is otherwise occupied and you are utterly drained of thinking about with what.

The air outside the apartment feels different. Lighter and cooler, but it doesn’t bring relief. It’s thin and hard to pull into your lungs properly.

Natasha’s place isn’t far. Fifteen minutes on foot. You tell yourself that over and over, like a mantra, like something to grasp on.

No more moans. Lost to silence, left in a place that feels little like home right now. Still, they resonate in your skull, haunting reminders of that pain you can’t dismiss, that hurt that hangs off you like a heavy burden.

You slow your steps on the staircase and inhale deeply. It trembles on its way out.

You hate how fragile you feel. How breakable. Hate how much this affects you. How much he affects you.

But you keep walking.

Just yesterday, you talked to Natasha and she offered you to stay with her for the night, looking at you all sharp and knowing, but in her own way sympathetic. You declined. Because you thought you’d be fine. Well, you were wrong.

It’s past midnight now, completely dark, but you don’t care.

You know, Natasha will let you in. And that will have to be enough for tonight.

The city is alive even at this hour. Neon lights glow in the distance, their reflection shimmering in rain-slicked puddles that dot the cracked pavement. Somewhere across the street, there is a group of people laughing, and disappearing around a corner. A car flies past, with headlights unlocking long shadows lengthening down the sidewalk.

You focus on those things. On the shoes thumping against the pavement. The way the crisp air is somehow refreshing as it weaves through the fabric of your hoodie and stings slightly at the tear-streaked skin of your cheeks, keeping you awake and propelling you forward. Not that you need any more motivation to leave.

You wind your arms around yourself like a shield, like a last-ditch effort to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

You don’t look back.

Somewhere above you, there is a creak of a window opening.

It makes you freeze for a small second, before tightening your arms around yourself and picking up your pace.

Your stomach spins violently because fuck, you know that sound. You know the groan of that window when it moves, just a little off its hinges, just enough to make a noise you’ve heard a hundred times before. Because it’s the window of your apartment. And it makes a noise that has never felt so much like a punch to the gut.

“Y/n?”

You close your eyes.

“Y/n!”

Your name spills from his lips, laced with confusion, infused with something that makes your fingers clench around your arms.

You could ignore him. You should ignore him. Just keep walking, keep moving, pretend you didn’t hear.

But you can’t. You never can.

With a slow, dragging breath, you turn around.

Bucky is leaning over the frame, his torso reaching out the window, bare from the shoulders down. He is bathed in the hazy yellow glow of the streetlights.

His hair is messed up, brown tendrils all sticking in different directions. His brows are knitted in confusion. His lips in a frown so full of worry. And it’s just too much.

Too warm. Too intimate. Too familiar.

Your chest stutters, lurches, and swirls itself into a dozen moving shapes that hurt more than they should. Because he stands there shirtless. Shirtless. And you know why.

You swallow back your hurt, but it stays stuck in your throat and crawls right up again to make you taste it on your tongue.

You force your gaze away from staring at the curve of his collarbone, the slope of his throat, the soft lines of his skin, the hard lines of his muscles that she had her hands on just minutes ago.

“Where are you going?”

The tone highlights his concern, thick with the kind of worry that would have meant everything if it weren’t coming from him like this, not now. His voice is rough, remnants of the time already spent with that girl, but all you can hear is that damn worry in it.

As if you owe him an answer. As if he isn’t the reason your chest feels like it’s been hollowed out and left to rot.

You draw in half a breath and look away - down the street, down at your shoes, the bricks of your building. Anywhere that isn’t him.

“To Nat’s.”

It’s clipped and short. You don’t want to explain, don’t want to talk, don’t want to stand here in the night air beneath the window of the apartment you share with him like some pathetic wreck while he worries about you.

“Nat’s?” You can hear the bewilderment in his voice, the way he is trying to piece it together, the way his brain is already working overtime, scrambling to make sense of this - and you can practically feel the moment he decides he won’t let it go.

“Somethin’ happen?” His voice just won’t stop to be so perplexed, so concerned. It is softer now, but you only glance up at him briefly before averting your eyes again.

Because damn Bucky, yes, something happened. Everything happened. Every night that he brings someone home, every touch that belongs to someone else, every soft moan that isn’t meant for you.

All these moments, all these memories, every feeling left unsaid that swivels and stings and grows into what it is now - a storm inside your rib cage, a hurricane of almosts and never wills and why does it have to be like this?

But of course, you can’t say that. You won’t say that.

So you just shake your head, tighten your arms around yourself, and take a step back.

“Go back to bed, Bucky.”

Because you can’t do this right now. You won’t do this right now.

Not when you are already about to break.

“I- What?”

His voice is a little raspy, puzzled, and under any other circumstance, it might have been endearing. On a normal day, if this were some cozy Sunday morning and not the breaking stretch of midnight, you might have smiled at the sight of him like this - hair in a wild mess, eyes a little heavy from the day, bare shoulders shifting in the glow of the streets.

But this is not a Sunday morning. And nothing about this feels good or cozy or right.

You are so damn exhausted. So damn drained.

“You-” he starts again, brow furrowing deeper, but before he can get another word out, hands appear - slim fingers wrapping around the thick of his bicep, tugging, pulling, trying to drag him back inside.

Bile is pooling at the base of your throat.

She’s alone with him up there, in the space that you have spent so much time making into something warm, something filled with comfort. A space where you feel home. With him. And yet, it’s that random girl in there, laying in his bed, under his covers, in his scent, in him.

“Bucky, come on.” Her voice is thin and peevish, thick with impatience. And exhaustion you believe she has no right to feel when you are the one who has spent the time suffocating under her presence.

But Bucky doesn’t move.

His hand only grips onto the windowsill tighter, muscles in his arm locking.

And his eyes stay fixed on you.

Still searching. Still confused. Still trying to understand.

And it makes your hands clammy.

The way he looks at you like he is reaching for something just beyond his grasp, something that eludes him no matter how hard he tries to hold onto it.

He huffs out a breath that just borders on frustration when her fingers won’t stop pulling at him.

“Hold on, doll-” he calls out to you and unwinds her hands from his arm, barely sparing her a glance as he leans out the window again. There is a little something in his tone when he speaks to you again. Something like exasperation. But it’s not meant for you. “What’re you doin’ at Nat’s? Tell her it’s the middle of the goddamn night. Why would she let you walk over to her? She knows it’s not safe.”

You shake your head, already half turning away again. You just cannot do this right now.

“It’s fine. Just go back to bed, Bucky.”

“Y/n - hey. What’s wrong? What’s this about?” There it is. That softness in his voice. That concern. And it hurts. Because he doesn’t get it.

“Go. Back. To bed,” you repeat, sharper now, gritting it out between clenched teeth.

But Bucky has always been stubborn. And so infuriating. It’s like he doesn’t hear you at all.

“C’mon doll, did something happen? Talk to me,” he urges, voice gentle but he doesn’t seem to like the way you look as if you would bolt around the corner any second. His tone is coaxing in a way that makes you ache because this is what he does. This is what he has always done - pulling you in, making you feel safe, making you feel cared for, making you feel like you matter. Like he means it.

And it’s cruel. So cruel.

Because you are in love with him.

And he is standing in that window, bare-chested and rumpled from a night with another woman, while you are in slacks and a simple hoodie beneath him with your heart cracked wide open, bleeding into the pavement.

“I don’t wanna do this right now, Bucky,” you snip, voice losing patience. But you are so tired.

Bucky sighs and runs a hand through his hair, frustration growing, seeping into his voice. “You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart. Just tell me what’s goin’ on. It’s cold out, doll. You’re not even wearin’ a jacket.”

You swallow down a choked breath.

Because this is making things so much worse.

That he cares. That he is looking at you like this, like you matter, like you are his.

Like you are something he wants to figure out. And he wants to take his time with. Like he wants to fix you.

But you are not broken. You are just in love.

“Bucky,” that girl calls out again, dragging his name out, voice honey-thick and pettish. “Come on babe, let it go. Just-” She tugs at his arm again, nails skimming along his forearm. “Come back to bed.”

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t even glance at her.

His mouth twitches, jaw ticking as he exhales sharply through his nose, shaking her off with a firm roll of his shoulder. “Would you quit it for a sec?” His voice is edged now, tinged with a kind of terse impatience he seldom ever lets out. “Jesus, m’tryin to talk here.”

The girl huffs, clearly displeased, but Bucky doesn’t spare her another second.

But the one second he threw his head around at her was your chance. Your feet move before you can think, before you can talk yourself into staying, because if you do, if you let him pull you in, let yourself hope-

“Woah, doll, hey. Wait, I-”

His voice is frantic, stammering over its own syllables and filled with too many things your mind is too jumbled to focus on.

But it makes you stop your body in the midst of a step. And you grind down on your teeth against the frustration burning inside you.

You should keep walking. Shouldn’t have stopped.

But Bucky is leaning even further out now, his knuckles bracing against the sill, the night air tousling his hair, eyes wide and concerned, searching. One of his arms is reaching out, down to you as if he could touch you like this.

“Hold up, yeah? I’m comin’ down.”

You whip halfway back to him, brows snapping together, heart slamming against your ribs.

“No, you-”

He’s already pulling himself back inside, shaking his head as if it should be obvious. “I’m coming down,” he repeats, more insistent, more sure. Leaving no room for argument.

Your fists squeeze the fabric of your hoodie. Your stomach churns. “Bucky-” you try again. But he has already made up his mind.

“Wait there, alright?” His voice dips lower, steadier but still urgent. Resolute, as if he would run after you if you bolted down the street. “Doll. Promise me you’ll wait.”

Something in his tone, the look he is giving you, like he’s begging, almost a sweet-talking declaration. It’s catching your breath somewhere in your throat.

You could run.

You should.

You should turn right back around, disappear into the night, and leave him standing there, shirtless and confused and worried.

But you hold his gaze for just one long and heavy beat, then exhale shakily, shoulders dropping slightly.

“Okay,” you say weakly.

Bucky nods determined and taps his fingers against the windowsill, before rushing away, leaving the window wide open.

And you stand there hating yourself for waiting.

Hating yourself for hoping.

Technically, you could just leave.

Take a different route to Nat’s apartment, slip into the dark veins of the city where his voice wouldn’t reach, and let him walk out onto an empty sidewalk with his hair still tousled from another woman’s fingers and the taste of someone else’s lips still lingering on his own.

You could make him feel just a fraction of what you feel, with something hollow pressing up against his ribs when he finds nothing but cold pavement where you used to stand.

But you don’t.

You know you won’t.

Because it wouldn’t just frustrate him. It would hurt him.

And that’s the one thing you could never bring yourself to do.

Not Bucky.

Never Bucky.

You know him. The way he chews at the inside of his cheek when he’s trying not to say something reckless. The way his brows pull just a little too tight when he’s agitated but trying to play it off like he is fine. The way he folds his arms over his chest, not because he’s closed off, but because he needs something to hold onto.

You know exactly how he would react if he stepped out here and you weren’t there.

How the slight crease between his brows would deepen. How his fingers would twitch, opening and closing, like he’d missed his chance to catch you. How his lips would open and he would stare helplessly around and call your name.

And god, as much as this pain is devouring you from the inside out, pushing its way into the light but leaving you sitting in the dark, as much as your heart feels like being torn apart with unsaid words and unmet confessions - you cannot stand the thought of hurting him.

So you stay.

With feet planted on the concrete, fists clenched so hard, that your fingers start to cramp. You lift your trembling hands to your aching cheeks to hastily scrub away the fresh wave of tears surging forth downwards, willing your body to erase any evidence of your devastation.

But the more you wipe, the more it hurts.

You believe your cheeks are red from the effort of wiping so much, eyes swollen and puffy, your body trying to rebel against all of your commands.

Inhaling shakily, you force the breath down, down, down where you can pretend it doesn’t hurt so much. You angle your face slightly away from the building, hoping the dim spill of moonlight won’t betray your inner struggles.

Because the moment Bucky steps out that door, it will be the same as always.

He’ll look at you like you are his best friend. Like you are his safe place. Like you are the person he can always count on.

And you will look at him like you aren’t falling apart.

Like your heart isn’t unraveling at the seams.

Like you aren’t drowning in a love that will never be returned.

The door swings open with a force that startles you, the sound of it hitting the frame a little too sharp against the night.

Bucky storms out onto the sidewalk like he’s got something urgent to say, like the world might stop spinning if he doesn’t get to you fast enough. He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t pause. Just moves straight to you, his steps quick, closing the space before you can change your mind about standing here. He has a crumpled shirt thrown on and it hangs a little off. But it makes you want to run so hard.

His fingers wrap around your arms, not hard, not forceful but firm.

Those warm hands on you make you want to crumble.

His breath is coming fast, chest rising and falling, like he ran down the staircase to get here as fast as possible.

His eyes are so deep, deep and blue, roaming your face with so much intensity, searching and scanning and pausing.

Shadows cast over his sharp cheekbones at the way his brows are furrowed, his lips slightly parted.

“What’s going on, doll? You been cryin’?” His voice comes out rough and he talks fast. Urgent, breaths spilling over themselves as he rushed through the words, almost tripping on them in his desperation to get them out. “Why’ve you been crying? What happened?”

His thumb twitches against the fabric of your hoodie.

You open your mouth, close it again. Your throat is dry from the sobs you tried to silence earlier. You shake your head, a knee-jerk reaction.

“I was just going to Nat’s, Bucky. Nothing happened.”

It’s a weak excuse, said in a weak voice.

And you hate how it makes Bucky’s expression shift. That tiny wounded something that crosses his features, something that shouldn’t be there, because you did wait for him, you didn’t leave, but it’s still not enough. You lied to him. And he knows it. And he’s hurt. And you hate yourself.

He shakes his head, his jaw going tight.

“No,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving you, voice so low. “That ain’t nothin’, doll. C’mon. You’re runnin’ off in the middle of the night, how could this be nothing?”

You look away. Because if you keep looking at him, him with his concern and confusion and hurt all interflowing in the pool of those blue eyes, you won’t be able to hold yourself together much longer.

You swallow hard and force yourself to breathe slowly.

The sting behind your eyes is never really leaving you.

Bucky leans in, just a little. His grip on your arms tightens, but it’s not harsh. Only insistent. Desperate for you to give him something here.

“Somethin’ up with Natasha?” His voice is gentle, like he knows this has nothing to do with her, but he has to ask anyway to go through all the possible options of what might be going on.

“No,” you croak, barely managing the word.

He softens at the sound of it, but that frown doesn’t ease.

“What’re you doing then, huh? Why’re you running off like that? S’ not safe, you know that.” His voice is soft. Almost like he’s trying to soothe a skittish animal. But the concern is wrapping around every word. “What’s got you so upset, sweetheart? Talk to me, yeah? Please?”

His voice takes on a desperate intensity. Like he’s begging you to just let him in. To make him understand.

You bite down hard on your bottom lip, willing it not to tremble, willing your face not to crumble right in front of him, but the air is too thick for your airway, making it harder and harder to breathe.

And Bucky is looking at you, like you are breaking his goddamn heart. Like you took a shot straight for it.

He is so full of worry, it looks painful, the crease of his brow always there when he’s thinking too hard, when he’s feeling too hard. His lips are still parted, like he wants to beg for an explanation, for some string of words that will make this all click into place and turn this into something fixable.

Because Bucky Barnes fixes things.

But this might be the only thing he can’t fix.

His hands on you are a contrast to the way you feel as if you’re falling apart. You hate how much you just want to collapse into it, to let yourself lean into him, let him hold you up. Because he would. You know he would. He would pull you in without hesitation, wrap his arms around you like he has done so many times before.

But you don’t want him to hold you. Don’t want him to hold you like a friend.

You want him to hold you like he means it. Like you mean something more than the sum of all the nights you spent choking on your own silence, swallowing words you could never say.

So all you can do is stay frozen, bones locked, eyes burning, heart splitting itself open in the middle of the street where he doesn’t even know he’s killing you.

“I-”

You try. You really try.

But then the door swings open again. And the sound of it alone is enough to send a bolt of ice down your spine.

Because this time it’s her walking out.

She steps out onto the sidewalk like she has every right to be a part of this moment.

Like she hasn’t spent the first part of the night in Bucky’s bed. Like she hasn’t been touched by him, kissed by him, fucked by him, wanted by him in a way that you have only ever ached for.

Like she hasn’t taken something that was never hers to have.

But it’s not yours either.

She looks so composed, too. More put together than you would have imagined. Her hair smoothed, clothes adjusted, skin glowing in a way that tells you she wasn’t just sleeping up there - she was living in something you’ve been dying for. She probably took a moment in your bathroom to check herself, to fix her lipstick, maybe even to admire herself in the mirror while you were downstairs, breaking apart.

She had the time for that.

Meanwhile, you can barely stand.

Your body is alive with magnitudes of unspoken things, suffocating. You feel like you’ve been sanded down, like a piece of wood, leaving nothing but the ache and longing and all the words you can’t say. This destruction is slow and ruthless, it doesn’t come with an explosion, but rather a slow erasure.

Like you’re being unmade. Piece by piece.

Like you were never meant to be here in the first place.

And Bucky is still looking at you.

Not at her.

You.

And maybe that should be enough. Maybe it should mean something.

But it just puts more pressure on the knife that is already turning around in your flesh.

The girl doesn’t leave and Bucky stiffens.

“Bucky,” she drawls, almost lazy, like she’s bored with this already. “Are you coming back up, or…?”

Your stomach lurches.

You feel exposed, scraped raw, like you’ve been trampled over, flattened by something massive, left behind for everyone else to step around.

Bucky lets out a slow breath through his nose. His jaw works under pressure. And then, he huffs. Annoyed. Like she’s interrupting something important.

“Go home,” he flatly tells her, his attention still on you. Not even addressing her with a name. Perhaps he doesn’t even know it.

“Seriously?” she scoffs, crossing her arms. Her eyes flick between the two of you.

Bucky exhales another breath and drops one of his arms from you to scrub it over his face, pushing through his hair. He turns toward her just a little, stance rigid.

“Yeah, seriously,” he mutters, already turning back to you. “I’ll call you a cab if you need-”

“God, you’re such a dick,” she snaps, cutting him off, rolling her eyes with an exasperated huff. “Unbelievable.”

And then she’s gone.

But so are you.

You don’t even think about it. You just move.

Your arm slips from Bucky’s loosened grip, your body already shifting, already turning, already pulling you down the sidewalk, away from him, away from this.

It’s pathetic. You know this. But you have to get away.

Your vision is a blur, the streetlights smearing into a soft, hazy glow against the wetness welling in your eyes, and no matter how much you try to breathe through it, it’s too much. Simply too much.

You’re hurting. And you need to go. Now.

But Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Woah, whoah, hey!” His voice is quick, rushed, and then he is moving, closing the space between you. And this time, he cuts you off completely, stepping right into your path, right in front of you, blocking the way like a wall. He’s so broad in front of you, and so fucking present, making it impossible to escape.

You stop so fast it almost sends you stumbling back.

His eyes flick over you so quickly, so intensely, scanning for something he doesn’t understand but is so desperate to find.

“Alright,” he exhales, low and careful, holding his arms out as if ready to stop you again if you make a run for it.

“You want me to put you in chains to keep you still?”It’s a weak and failed attempt at humor.

And it’s not funny. Not even close.

His voice is too thin, too strained, and there is something in his eyes, something tight and aching, that makes it clear he is not even trying all that hard to make his joke work.

You don’t smile. Don’t look at him. Arms still around yourself.

Bucky’s throat bobs as he swallows, as he shifts his weight, as he lets out another slow and deliberate breath. He moves so slow. As if any tiny movement of him would make you walk away from him.

“What’s going on with you, mhm?” His voice is so soft. So concerned. Brooklyn warmth and worry combined with something gentler than you can handle right now.

“What’s this - this fight-or-flight thing you got goin’ on?” he continues, tilting his head just slightly, watching you too closely, reading too much. “You’re rushing off like the damn place is on fire. The hell is that about, doll?” Still so soft. So cautious.

His eyes are on you like you are the only thing in the world that matters, like he’s trying to solve you, like if he just looks long enough, he’ll figure it out.

But if he really understood, if he really found out, everything between you would change.

And you can’t handle that. You can’t handle anything at the moment.

“Just drop it, Bucky, alright?” It comes out sharper than you mean for it to. Harsher. A little spit of venom that you hate yourself for the second it hits the air. He doesn’t deserve your attitude. But you can’t hold it back.

You see the way it lands. The way his brows pull in tighter, the way his lips press together, the way his chest rises and falls so measured. But it’s all not out of irritation. He just tries to figure out where that came from. What is happening. What has you react the way you do.

His voice is even and calm. But oh so careful. “I don’t think I will, doll.”

You look anywhere than at him and his troubled face.

Your throat tightens so fast, you have to swallow hard against it, teeth digging into the inside of your cheek as you blink up at the sky like maybe that keeps the tears from spilling over.

And Bucky watches all of that.

His expression stays soft, but his eyes are burning with something deep, something real, something that makes you feel like you might actually drown if you keep looking at them for too long.

“Y/n,” he almost whispers, and it sounds so pained. “Why are you crying, sweetheart.” He’s so gentle, so tender, so fucking careful like he’s afraid that if he pushes too hard, you’ll just break.

You shake your head, arms around yourself tightening. “I’m fine.”

Bucky makes a quiet noise in his throat, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff, something deep and disbelieving.

“See, that’s bullshit.”

You’re about to turn again, but he anticipates and gets hold of your arms.

“Look,” he sighs, heedfully taking off a hand of you to rub it down his face. “You don’t wanna talk? Fine. You wanna bite my head off cause I’m askin’? Fine. But don’t stand here and tell me you’re okay. Because I’ve got eyes, doll, and I can see that you’re not.”

You want him to stop.

You want him to turn around.

You want him to leave you here to fall apart in peace.

But he won’t.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

And you break.

No matter how hard you bite your lip, it doesn’t matter.

The tears slip and streak down your face before there is anything you can do. A sob follows. You can’t choke it down. Your shoulders shake, your breath stutters, and your face tilts towards the ground as you bring trembling hands up to wipe at your cheeks, in a futile and desperate attempt to regain composure. It’s useless.

You feel so pathetic.

Embarrassed. Ashamed that you ran off like this. That you’re standing here, crying in the middle of the night, on a sidewalk with no explanation, making a fool of yourself in front of him.

And the second your face crumbles, his does, too.

The second your breath hitches, he is moving.

Strong arms envelope you, winding tight, pulling you straight into his chest like he doesn’t even need to think about it. Not for a single second.

You let him.

Because it’s either this, or you’ll collapse down onto the asphalt.

His grip is firm, grounding, warm in a way that makes you ache even more. His hand cradles the back of your head, tucking you against him, and you feel the press of his lips there, gentle, but somehow rough.

Like your pain is his own.

“It’s okay. Shh… it’s okay,” he breathes, pained and low, the words pressed into your hair, into your skin. Making space between your ribs. “Oh, doll.” He presses you tighter to him. His hand brushes over your hair. “It’s okay.”

There is something so deep and aching in the way he talks to you, like the sound of his own voice hurts him. Like you hurt him.

His other hand moves over your back, soothingly, trying to give you some strength.

“I gotcha,” he breathes. “M’here, doll. Okay? Just breathe. Gotta breathe for me, baby. Please.”

It’s a slip. Baby. A mistake.

And it makes you cry harder.

Because it’s so soft. Gentle. Because it falls from his lips like something that’s always been there, something that’s always belonged to you.

Except it hasn’t.

It doesn’t.

Not in the way you want.

You don’t know what he calls those girls he takes home. If they get to hear him say it. Girls who have felt his hands in places you never will. Girls who have heard his voice rasp against their skin in the dark.

But you are not one of those girls.

You never will be.

And you know you will never be able to untangle that damaging wrench in your stomach.

So hearing him call you that. Baby. Like it means something. Like it’s yours. Like it hasn’t been whispered in the dim glow of your apartment, murmured against someone else’s lips, someone else’s skin, just someone else just hours ago.

It’s too hard. too cruel.

You wish it didn’t matter. You wish it didn’t rip through you the way it does, splitting you down the center, carving you open.

But it does.

Because even if it doesn’t belong to you, you still want it.

So you cry harder.

Sobs wrack through you, your chest hitching with the force of them, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt, clumping it in your fists.

Bucky feels it and he hears it and he grips you tighter, pulls you closer.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, voice just above a whisper, more desperate now. Like he’s drowning in your hurt right along with you.

“Sweetheart,” he tries again, voice strained, thick. His lips are in your hair. “Please talk to me. Make me understand, baby, please! Tell me what’s wrong.”

But you can’t.

Because what the hell would you even say?

That you’re in love with him?

That you’ve been in love with him?

That seeing him with her - hearing the sounds that bleed through the walls, the ones you’ll never be able to unhear - feels like being skinned alive?

That you want him in a way you shouldn’t?

That you want him in a way he will never want you back?

You won’t.

So instead, you just press yourself harder into his chest and squeeze your eyes shut, letting him hold you like you are something precious. Like you are his. Even if you are not.

“Help me understand here, baby. Please,” he repeats with a voice so soft, that makes him seem afraid you might break apart completely if he speaks any louder.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe you’re already in pieces at his feet, shattered beyond repair, and he just hasn’t realized it yet.

He lets you cry when you don’t answer, hand stroking up and down your back, the other soothing over your head. He whispers into your hair, words you can’t even process, just the deep cadence of him, the low rasp of his voice against your temple.

His lips move to your forehead, brushing over it. His breath is warm against your skin. You don’t have it in you to pull away, but you wish you would.

Because none of this makes it any easier.

Because his hands feel too good, too steady, too right - and it’s a lie.

Because it’s him.

And that means it hurts.

You wish he would just go and let you have your pathetic heartbreak alone.

But Bucky Barnes has never been the kind of a guy to leave things unsolved.

He pulls back just slightly after a while, just enough to get a better look at you, and when you try to duck your head, to keep him from seeing too much, he doesn’t let you.

Strong, warm fingers cradle your face, thumbs brushing over the damp skin of your cheeks, tilting your head up and forcing your gaze to his.

He looks wrecked.

His brows are drawn, lips parted, chest rising and falling unevenly. His hands tremble just a little against your skin, but his grip stays firm. Solid.

“Don’t look away, doll. Eyes on me, yeah?”

You swallow hard, jaw tight. “You just ruined your good night,” you say, the words falling out bitter, self-deprecating, stiff with something that tastes like resentment but feels like heartbreak.

Bucky’s frown deepens, his lips pressing together, eyes scanning over your face like he’s searching for something, anything that’ll make this make sense.

“The hell I did,” he scoffs, shaking his head. Confused you even brought this up. “I don’t give a shit about her. Don’t even know her name, if I’m bein’ honest.” He lets out a huffed laugh.

But you don’t.

Because somehow this makes it worse.

And you hate it.

You hate that some part of you wanted her to mean something.

Because if she meant something, if she was special, then at least this ache in your chest would have a name. A reason. A shape you could hold in trembling hands and squeeze so hard that it stops hurting at one point.

Then, at least, you could maybe finally accept that there is no hope. No reason to hold on to those feelings.

But Bucky just shrugs.

It meant nothing. It never meant anything. Not with them.

Not with the girls that come and go, the ones who pass through his nights in the same easy way the hours do - fleeting, ephemeral, touched, and forgotten.

Not with anyone. Not even with you.

You have spent so long feeling this, holding onto it, trying to keep it hidden beneath layers of friendship and longing and careful restraint. You have spent so long pretending that it is fine, that it doesn’t matter, that you can live like this - on the sidelines, just the girl in the other room, in the shadows, in the spaces between what you want and what you’re allowed to have.

And he stands here and looks you in the eyes, telling you that it is nothing. That she is nothing. That they - all of them before her, and all of them after her - are nothing.

You can barely breathe past it.

You don’t say anything.

And Bucky freezes.

His hands, where they cup your face, stop their soft, absentminded strokes. His thumbs, which had been tracing reassuring circles along your cheekbones halt. His breath catches and his eyes shift.

There is something uncertain in there.

And then, his lips part. His brows go up ever so slightly. His pupils flare.

Something settles over his expression that you don’t recognize.

Like a switch has been flipped.

Like a puzzle piece has clicked into place.

Like suddenly he is seeing something in your eyes, something like an answer, something that has been there all along.

His fingers tighten, anchoring himself. Making it seem that if he lets go, if he moves even a fraction, something will break. In him, or you, you’re not sure.

He pulls back. Not far. Just an inch. But he needs to see you better. Just enough to search your face for something he needs to know. His gaze locks onto yours and holds you there, testing something, making sure.

His voice is hushed when he talks. Breathless.

“Is that what this is about?”

It’s quiet, the way he says it. Like he’s afraid of it. Like he’s careful with it. There is disbelief on his face. Astonishment.

You shake your head too fast, too sharp, like if you deny it hard enough, it’ll erase the way he’s looking at you right now. That it’ll undo the meaning of his words and the way they sit between you. Something fragile on the verge of breaking.

“No,” you say, but it barely comes out, barely sounds convincing. Your voice is hoarse, scraped raw form holding back everything you don’t want to say. Your lungs refuse to work in sync with the rest of you. You swallow, eyes darting away, grasping for something to latch onto.

But Bucky doesn’t let you.

“Doll…” It comes like a sigh. Weightless and soft. His hands don’t drop from your face, don’t loosen, don’t give you the space you’re so desperately trying to carve out between you. If anything, his grip grows more robust. Just enough to keep you there.

“Hey. Look at me.” His tone is low, carrying the kind of warmth you’d usually like to lean into, but now all you want is to get away from it. You don’t want to meet those stormy blues.

Bucky’s thumbs are sweeping, so feather-light, over the curve of your jaw, smoothing along the damp trail of your tears, and his voice dips even lower. Softer. He is so close.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Give me somethin’ here.”

It’s not fair that he gets to call you all those sweet names like he means them. Like you mean something. Like it’s not the same word he probably called her and all those others who got to have him, even if only for a night.

“I don’t-” you try, but your voice is trembling and thick with tears, and Bucky’s gaze shadows.

“Don’t what?” he coaxes, leaning in just a little, close enough that his breath skims your skin, warm and stable in a way you aren’t. His fingers slightly move against your cheeks, as if resisting the urge to pull you closer.

You shake your head again, your hands wrapping around his wrists - not to push him away exactly, but to have something to hold onto. You have no idea what to say.

“It’s- It’s not-” Your words trip over themselves, stuck somewhere between your throat and your ribs, tangled up in everything you’ve never let yourself say.

But Bucky just watches you, unreadable things swirling in those impossibly blue eyes. Wary things. Still so damn careful.

He exhales and his hands slide down, skimming the column of your throat, settling against the curve of your neck like he’s grounding you. Holding you both together.

“Doll,” he sighs, and it’s too much.

It’s not teasing. It’s not playful. It’s not easy. Not the charming lilt he likes to throw in his tone.

It’s vulnerable. Tender. Substantial.

“You’re breakin’ my heart here.”

And that’s what has another tear slip over your lashes.

Because you’re breaking his heart?

What does that even mean?

You were the one trying to escape the heartache he caused and now he tells you it’s his heart that hurts?

“Please,” he whispers, and his voice is wrecked, gravel thick in his throat. “Just tell me, doll. Tell me what I did. Tell me so I can fix it.”

His lips stay parted, trying to find air, trying to find some kind of solid ground. There is a sheen over his eyes.

“I can’t-” Your voice cracks, but you don’t look away this time. His hands won’t let you. He won’t let you.

His eyes are pleading.

“Can’t what, sweetheart?” he urges, dipping closer, voice just a rasp of sound between you. His thumbs wipe away the new tears and he winces while doing it as if it actually causes him pain that they fell.

The streetlight flickers above. It casts shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the tight pull of his mouth. His fingers flex against your face.

“Is it-” he starts, then stops, then starts again, throat bobbing and voice rough and hesitant. “Is it those girls?”

A shallow gasp slips from your lips. Fractured and tripping over something unseen. Your shoulders grow stiff.

You can’t answer. You only shake your head, not in denial, not in confirmation, but in something else, something tired and so fucking done with feeling like this.

You try to pull back, try to slip free from the heat of his palms, try to turn away. Another tear drops onto the back of his hand.

Your reaction must be answer enough.

Bucky’s head, Bucky’s hands, Bucky’s eyes, Bucky’s whole body - everything is moving so much, keeping you from slipping away, reaching for you, not letting you go.

A breath. A pause. Like his brain needs an extra moment to process what this all could mean. His breath catches in his throat and you can feel the exact moment he gets it.

The exact moment he realizes.

“Shit,” he breathes, so quiet you almost miss it. His grip tightens. It grows distressed. Despairing. Keeping you from leaving his hold, although you don’t stop trying.

You sob and his hands press into your cheeks, thumbs smoothing away tears like he can erase this, like maybe if he holds you tight enough, he can go back five minutes, five months, five years, to a time before he made you feel like this.

“Shit, doll, I-” His voice breaks, gravel and regret and anguish - and something so painful - landing with every syllable.

You don’t stop trying to pull back, trying to push him away. You can’t talk. You can’t stop crying. You can’t look at him.

But Bucky is devastated. And he is desperate. And he won’t let you go.

“No, no, don’t - please, Y/n, don’t.” He runs through his words, frantically getting them out, frantically trying to make you look at him.

He reaches your face again and holds on like it’s important. Your tears won’t stop falling. A whimper falls from your lips when you realize he won’t let you leave.

Bucky panics.

His swallow seems to hurt him. Everything he does seems to hurt him.

“Oh, sweetheart - fuck, fuck, I didn’t-” He lets out a rough breath, one of his hands letting go of you to scrub over his face, pushing through his hair in frustration.

Not at you.

At himself.

“Doll, I didn’t - Jesus Christ, I didn’t know.”

It comes out hoarse, scraped down to nothing but feeling. Each word drags from his throat like sandpaper against silence. Coarse and raspy.

And then he’s shaking his head, hands sliding to your shoulders, his hold firm, his eyes darting over your face like he is trying to memorize it, searching for the right words in the curve of your lips, the glisten of your tears, the way your breathing is a single shuddering mess.

“I didn’t - fuck, I didn’t mean-”

He seems to hold back a scream.

Sucking in another sharp breath, he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s in pain, angry at himself, wanting to go back and rewrite everything, tear out every page where he made you feel like you were anything but his.

You wish you could believe it.

“Bucky-” you croak out.

“No, don’t-” His head doesn’t stop shaking. His jaw is clenched tight. Hands shaking against you. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?” Your voice is whisper-thin.

His breath shudders out, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are so earnest. Glossy with a sheen of tears.

“Like it’s over.”

Your throat closes around your next breath, never making it reach your lungs.

Because what is he saying? Nothing ever had the chance to be anything.

“I didn’t know, doll,” he whispers, voice breaking. “I swear to God, I didn’t know. You gotta believe me, I - fuck, I never wanted to hurt you. Never wanted you to feel like- I didn’t think you’d-”

He cuts himself off, voice choking.

His hands drop suddenly, like he doesn’t even deserve to hold you anymore. Like the guilt is weighing them down.

And then, unsure and hesitantly, he lifts one of them again and pauses before cupping your face, waiting for something - permission, maybe, or just a sign that you won’t pull away this time.

When you don’t, when you just keep standing there, frozen and broken and bewildered, he lets his palm settle warm against your cheek, his thumb brushing so lightly it sends a shiver down your back.

“Tell me how to fix it. Tell me I can,” he pleads, like he means it. Like he would do anything. “Tell me what to do, baby. Anything. I’d do anything. Just gotta tell me. Please,” he chokes out.

Cars roll past you. There are voices in the distance. A neon sign flickers. But none of it touches this.

This thing between you.

Bucky’s hand shakes against your cheek. His breath stirs against your skin so ragged and he leans in. His forehead presses to yours, his body curling toward you like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, just needing to be close.

“I’m so sorry,” he gasps out. “God, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Never have you seen Bucky like this. He keeps things easy, keeps things light, and shrugs off pain like it never quite reaches him. But it does now.

It consumes him.

His fingers curl at the back of your neck, not pulling, just holding, grounding himself against you. And when you continue standing there, breath shaky, tears still trembling in your lashes, his whole body sags.

His chest heaves with a breath so deep it sounds like it’s costing him something.

“I never meant for this to happen. Please, believe me.”

His forehead presses harder to yours, seemingly trying to press his words straight into you, that maybe if he gets close enough you’ll feel how much he means them.

And you do. You just don’t know what the hell is going on.

He lets out a sound that resembles a sob. And then you feel the damp heat of a tear where his face brushes against yours.

Bucky is crying.

It breaks you. You don’t know what to do with all this pain. His and yours. Don’t know how to ever let it go.

You pull back. Just slightly. Just enough to breathe, to think, to process.

But Bucky’s whole body tenses, and his eyes squeeze shut as if he knew it was coming but it still pains him. Bracing himself for something he already knows is going to hurt. His hands drop to his sides.

And maybe that should give you some kind of satisfaction, a tiny sense of justice for the nights you spent lying awake, wondering if you meant anything to him while he had his hands on someone else.

But it doesn’t.

Because the way he is looking at you, when he cracks his eyes open again, when he meets your gaze with so much open ache, makes your chest hurt. It makes something inside of you quake.

“Bucky,” you start, but your own voice is so small, so lost. You shake your head, scanning his face, trying to piece it together, to make sense of something that refuses to fit. How the tables have turned. You just can’t seem to find the irony in it. “What are you even - I don’t - I don’t I understand.”

His throat bobs, thick and tight, and he pulls in a breath like it’s the last one he’s going to get.

“I love you.”

Your mind blanks. You flatline. Your knees go weak.

He says it like it’s the simplest thing to say. As if it is the most obvious thing in the world. But it isn’t.

Because if it was then why has he spent all those nights with those seemingly meaningless girls. Why has he let you ache for him while he touched someone else.

“I love you,” he says again, softer, trying to make sure you believe it.

But you don’t know how to.

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You feel the words, heavy and warm and terrifying, but your body doesn’t know what to do with them. Your mind is screaming at you to run, to protect yourself, to build the walls back up before it’s too late, but your heart doesn’t listen.

Bucky’s hand trembles when it reaches for you, fingertips ghosting over your jaw, waiting, waiting, waiting for you to pull away.

You don’t and he steps closer again.

His whole body thrums as if he is scared to touch you but more scared not to. He looks at you with those red-rimmed and puffy eyes, so tremendously bare, holding onto your own eyes like he is drowning and you are the only thing keeping him afloat.

“Say something, doll,” he pleads, his voice so unsteady, that it guts you.

But what could you say?

Because love is not supposed to feel like this, to hurt like this. It isn’t supposed to feel like your heart has been split open and stitched back together all in the same breath.

But looking at him and at the way his eyes are just as pleading as his words, at the way he is breaking right in front of you - it makes you wonder if maybe it was hurting him all along, too.

“You-” you begin, voice barely more than a whisper. You have to stop, have to pull in a breath that doesn’t seem to want to settle, have to force your hands to stay at your sides instead of reaching for something - for him - that you don’t know if you can take. “But that-” Another inhale, sharp and broken. Your chest hurts. Your whole body hurts. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

Bucky exhales, long and slow and then he drops his head. Shoulders slumping, spine curling, like something inside of him, has just given out.

Guilt.

It sits heavy in his frame, in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands jerk like he wants to touch you but knows he shouldn’t.

“Yeah,” he mutters, a humorless little laugh escaping, barely more than a breath. He drags a hand down his face, through his hair, before letting it fall uselessly at his side. His voice is lower when he speaks again, raspier, weighed down by something that feels an awful lot like regret. “I know.”

You watch him, waiting. Because he owes you this. Because he cracked open something you weren’t ready for, something you tried to bury, and now you need to understand.

And Bucky must feel that. Because after a beat, after a deep, shuddering breath, he looks at you again.

“I didn’t think I could have you,” he admits, voice quiet. Cautious. The words fragile in his mouth. “Didn’t think I was allowed to even want you. To this extent, anyway.”

Air enters you unevenly, shaking on the way in like a shiver made of sound. “Bucky-”

“You’re my best friend,” he pushes on, stepping in just a fraction, like he can’t help himself. His voice is getting rougher, rawer, like something in him is unwinding too fast for him to stop it. “I didn’t wanna mess that up, y’know? Didn’t wanna lose you over somethin’ I couldn’t control.”

Something tightens in your chest. Something shifts.

“So you-” you swallow, shaking your head, trying to put it together, trying to make sense of it. “So you just went around to go get yourself other girls you can fuck?”

Bucky flinches. Actually flinches.

Gaze dropping in shame, his features form a grimace. “I tried,” he croaks out, gesturing at his chest with one hand. “Tried to stop feeling like this. Tried to move on, tried to-” He exhales sharply, tilting his head side to side, something torn playing out with the movement. “It didn’t work. Nothin’ worked. Didn’t even make it easier. But I was afraid to face it. Really face it. So I just kept going.”

It hurts.

It hurts in a way you don’t know how to hold. Don’t know how to carry.

You thought, for so long, that the way you love him, ache for him, is a one-sided agony.

But he is confessing to you, eyes red and weary, voice splintering, telling you that he’s been afraid to speak it aloud too.

That he loves you, that he tried to kill it, that he thought losing himself in someone else would somehow erase you from his mind.

Bucky’s words are a fist curling around your ribs, squeezing the air from your lungs.

It should matter. It should mean something that he’s standing in front of you, breaking apart, pleading for you to understand. Shouldn’t it be enough that he’s telling you it was always you? That no one else ever came close?

But he still touched them.

Still chose them, even if only for a meaningless night.

While you sat in your room, staring at the ceiling, wondering if you were going insane. While you clenched your fists so tight beneath your sheets at night, biting your tongue, swallowing it down, because Bucky is your friend and friends don’t ache like this.

And yet, he is telling you, showing you, he aches too.

But instead of sitting with it, instead of letting it consume him the way it consumed you, he tried to make it disappear.

He tried to fuck it away.

And now he looks at you like you are the only thing that has ever mattered, like the ground beneath his feet, is unsteady, like he is afraid you are going to bolt at any second.

You feel like the ground beneath your feet shits a fraction of an inch, not enough to send you falling, but enough to make you question if you were ever standing solid in the first place.

“But, doll, it-” he rushes forward, watching your pain, stepping into your space until there is barely anything between you. “It never meant anything. Swear to god, none of ‘em ever meant something to me.” His hands wrap around yours, squeezing, grounding, begging. “They weren’t you. Couldn’t be you. Didn’t matter how hard I tried, how many times I told myself to stop thinking about you because you’re supposed to be my best friend, but I wanted so much more than that - it didn’t matter. Nothin’ worked.”

He is struggling to force the words out, but he does. And they leave him with a catch in his voice. Faltering.

“I thought about you, sweetheart. Every fuckin’ time.” His voice turns frantic and he leans in to make it convince you. He watches your lips tremble and shakes his head quickly. “Thought about how you’d feel. How you’d sound.”

Your breath stalls.

Bucky swallows, taking a quick pause but continuing, voice growing softer. Lower. Reverent. “Tried to picture you instead. How you’d look under me, wrapped around me. So goddamn beautiful.” His voice cracks. “But it wasn’t you. And I know it was wrong, but I couldn’t help it.”

He stumbles over his words, afraid of saying too much, of pushing too far, or admitting too much - but it doesn’t stop hurting.

Even if you know it might not be fair.

But the thought of him with them, the thought of his hands gripping someone else’s skin, his lips murmuring something soft against someone else’s throat - it makes you sick.

And he sees it.

You try to blink back another wave of tears.

His hands are on your face again, thumbs swiping furiously at your damp cheeks like he can rub the hurt away.

“Please tell me I didn’t ruin this.” His voice cracks through the words, the panic breaking through. Your silence seems to suffocate him, squeezing his ribs until there is no space left for air.

“I’m so sorry, baby! I wish I could take it all back. I would.” His bottom lip trembles and he bites down on it before continuing. “Tell me I can fix this. There’s gotta be somethin’ I can do. Anything.”

You blink rapidly, vision swimming, breath hiccuping in your throat. You don’t know if there is anything to fix, if there was ever anything there, to begin with, but he is looking at you like there was. Like there is. Like it is still hanging in the air between you, waiting to be caught, waiting to be named.

And you want to catch it. To press it to your heart and cherish it.

But the wounds are fresh. Still bleeding. Still open.

The images you conjured up in your mind, him with all those girls. The sounds of him bringing one after the other home - the routine.

The giggling. The keys. The apartment door. More giggling. His chuckles. The hallway. His bedroom door. The goodbyes. The mornings.

But worst of all is that you can’t even blame him.

Because what was he supposed to do? Wait for something that was never promised? Hold out hope for something that was never offered?

You had no claim on him.

But still, you hate how he tried to fuck you out of his system. Hate that he couldn’t, that he’s standing here now, telling you it was all for nothing, that you were always in his head, in his bones, and that that somehow is supposed to make it better.

You don’t know if it does now. But you hope - you hope so dearly - that it will get better. If he’ll stick with you.

“No more girls.” The words choke out of you, weak and broken, barely a breath. But he jolts like you have screamed them.

“Never,” he breathes immediately, shaking his head as if to get rid of his own images, gripping you tighter, his thumbs pressing into your cheeks, his eyes burning through yours. “No more, baby. No one else. Not ever.”

Your breath catches, body sways.

There is a burn behind your ribs, not quite pain, but not far from it. It is something that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Too quick. Too uneven.

“Only you,” he adds, his forehead dropping to yours, noses brushing, his breath warm against your lips, his hands trembling where they hold you. “It’s only ever been you.”

Heat rises up your throat, something between nausea and electricity, a burst of too much all at once.

“I got a lot to make up for.” His tone is unraveling at the seams. But it sounds firmer now. Convicted. “I know that. I know I- fuck, I screwed this up before I even knew I had a chance. And that’s on me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, because it’s too much - his voice, his touch, the way he is looking at you like you hung the damn moon when you’ve spent years feeling invisible to him in the way that mattered.

“I don’t wanna rush this, alright?”

You blink up at him. Your chest feels stretched too tight, as if the ribs themselves are holding onto something they shouldn’t, something too large, something too consuming.

“I don’t wanna mess this up more than I already have. I don’t wanna push or expect anythin’ from you - I just wanna do this right. For you.” His voice wavers on the last word, still scared of saying the wrong thing, scared of losing something he only just realized he had. “You understand me?”

You nod wordlessly. Almost feeling hypnotized by him. His eyes are so intense. So full.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this, hopin’ for this - Christ, I don’t even know how long.”

Your stomach flips, something curling in your stomach at the heaviness of his confession, at the realization that you weren’t alone in this. Maybe never have been.

“And now that it’s happenin’ - now that I have you, even if I don’t deserve it - I wanna take my time. I wanna make this good for you. Have to. I have to make this right,” he says, voice filled with something gravelly, rough like something barely holding together.

His fingers slide over your jaw, tracing along the column of your throat, memorizing the feel of you beneath his hands.

“And I hate-” his voice falters, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he forces himself to look at you again. “I hate that it’s happening like this. That I hurt you first. That I didn’t see this sooner.”

“Bucky-”

He cuts you off with his eyes and a shake of his head.

“Please I- I gotta do this. Gotta say this, baby.”

You nod.

He closes his eyes again for a moment like he wants to go back and shake his past self by the shoulders, tell him to wake the hell up and stop hurting the one girl he ever cared about.

He continues, voice hoarse. “I would do anything to make this different. Better. The way you deserve.”

Your breath is shallow, not quite catching, but hovering just short of where it should be, as if your body can’t decide whether to brace itself for collapse.

You’ve spent so long breaking for him, wanting him in ways he never seemed to want you back. But now he is pouring his heart out and asking for something he already has but isn’t sure he is worthy of.

“You don’t gotta say anythin’ right now, doll,” Bucky whispers. Afraid of scaring you off. “I know I shoulda told you sooner.” He grimaces, disgusted with himself. “I shoulda known sooner. I was so fuckin’ stupid. So fuckin’ blind.”

You don’t even notice you started leaning further into him.

Bucky stares at you for a moment. You look back.

“I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly. Whispers really. He exhales shakily and you feel the breath fan along your cheeks. “But I swear to God, I will.”

You don’t weigh the hurt against the want, don’t let the war in your head talk you out of your next move.

Your hands reach up, curling into the fabric of his shirt and before he can say anything else - before he can tear himself apart further - you kiss him.

And for a split second, Bucky freezes.

Not believing this is happening, not expecting it even after everything he just told you.

But then, he exhales this soft and quivering breath against your lips, relief knocking the air out of his lungs.

One hand flies to your waist, pulling you in, the other threading into your hair. He kisses you back like he is starving, like he has been dying for this, like he can’t believe you are real and this moment is something he’s imagined a thousand times but never thought he’d get to have.

And he is so warm. So solid. His lips move against yours, soft and slow at first - savoring you, afraid to go too fast, to push too much. But when you let out a little sigh and your fingers tighten, Bucky melts, pressing in closer, enveloping you in his arms in a way that has you feeling he tries to make sure you never go anywhere else again.

He breathes you in like you are something holy, tilting your head and deepening the kiss. He is not forceful. He takes what he can get and he cherishes it. Like he said, he wants to take his time with you. It makes you fall in love with him even more.

It’s like he can’t believe you are even letting him have this. But he kisses you with a hope and a determination that this will not be the only time he gets to have this.

And when you pull back again, he rests his forehead against yours once more. You feel the way his chest rises and falls against your own, the way his breath shakes, the way his grip does not loosen at all.

“Jesus, doll,” he rasps, panting. “You tryna kill me?”

And the way he says it, the way he looks at you, so full of longing and desire and relief makes you realize that maybe he’s been suffering just as much as you have.

“I want you. It’s as simple as that. I’ve spent a great deal too much of my life already trying to convince myself that I can make do with less but I can’t. You hear me? I’m done. I’m not giving up. A life without you is not enough.”

- Beau Taplin

[saltynsassy31]

Reblogging it cuz I want to save it with the art thag inspired me to write this lol

Anyway, here's a fanfic based on this au, I simply couldn't help myself XD

Obviously, the au belongs to @keferon

Go check them out!

~☆~

Swerve had heard of the mythical “human fish” at the aquarium. It wasn't exactly hard when everyone was talking about it - aside from the rising sea levels. He was always intrigued by it, but never really got the opportunity to see it for himself as he worked in a different department.

Until now, that is. He was called in to fix one of the generators near where the “human fish” had been placed, which was an easy enough job from what they described the problem to be. It would give him enough time to take a quick look around and get a glimpse of the creature all the news articles were talking about.

Swerve wasn't sure what he was expecting when he arrived. He had seen the pictures online, but still, nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. Walking down the hallway with his coworker, they passed by the tank of the mermaid (it was a mermaid, right? It sounded so surreal to even think about it) and couldn't help but take a small moment to glance at it.

It was half way out of the water, leaning over one of the “land” parts of its tank with its arms crossed, looking bored (could they even get bored? Probably, animals get bored, too, right?). 

The creature had a beautiful blue coloring to its scales and flesh, looking almost iridescent in certain areas. The fins on its head shaped perfectly like hair, the ones on the side of his face almost like wings. There was one strand protruding out like a graceful thorn. Aside from the piercing blue gaze of its eyes that turned to look at him tiredly, it was one of its most prominent features.

Least to say, Swerve was captivated.

He didn't realise he had been staring for far longer than he initially intended until his coworker called for him. “Dude, we don't have time for that. You can watch all the fish after we're done fixing the generator. Come on.”

Swerve quickly snapped out of it, turning around to follow his coworker in quick haste. “Right, sorry.” He paused. “It's just so…I dunno. Human-like.”

There was a small chuckle from the other. “I know. Weird, huh?”

Despite having been already scolded for getting distracted, he couldn't help but give one last glance at the creature - much to his coworker's annoyance. “Swerve, really? Come on man, we don't have all day.”

The creature stared back, unchanging in its hollow expression, simply looking as if it had nothing better to look at. Despite its cold indifference, Swerve smiled and offered a small wave of goodbye to it.

Seeing this, his coworker gave up all attempts to try and pull him away, figuring the other would simply follow once he was done playing around. Though, that didn't stop the frustrated grumbling that followed.

“Guh, are you a preschooler? I'm done waiting. I'll see you at the end of the hall.”

Swerve gave an absent-minded hum and nod, still observing the creature intently. He was considering following his coworker again, but those plans were briefly thrown out the window when he realised that the creature had taken notice of his action. For a brief moment, Swerve could swear he saw it contemplate something before it offered a half, tired smile and returned his wave.

It understood Swerve's action! It saw him wave, understood it, and returned the gesture! To say he was amazed was an understatement. The gasp that left him could only be described as star struck, a wide smile that took over all of his face, blinding the poor sea creature.

Swerve practically ran back to his coworker to report the news. “Dude! Dude! You won't believe what just happened! The mermaid, fish thingy, it–”

In his excitement, he missed the way the creature stared in stunned silence as he ran off. It rubbed at its eyes momentarily to wipe off the flash that was the human's smile before an amused huff left its gills. It smiled, softer this time. Laying its head against its crossed arms, it didn't look away from the spot the human had been in, long after he had already left.

That wouldn't be the last time Swerve had an encounter with the sea creature. He had been moved to keep maintenance of the general area of that department, which ment plenty more encounters with the mermaid. They were still few and far between, but he'd still wave, even if he didn't always get to stay long enough to see if it returned the gesture.

It sort of became their thing.

With time, he started to notice little things. How it would respond to praises with a certain air of pride, displaying behaviours of vanity and egoism at times. It also had quite the attitude if crossed. But it wasn't always like that. No, sometimes it was playful with some of the guests or workers that passed by - him included - always looking to make them smile. Swerve found it endearing.

It'd also pick up on patterns and behaviours fairly quickly.

One time he was walking around with one of his coworkers during lunch break, they were complaining something about scientists showing concern over the receeding waters and other climate change things that Swerve couldn't really be bothered to pay attention to. 

And either his coworker was oblivious of his obviously bored expression, or the sea creature was extremely attentive, because as soon as it managed to catch Swerve's attention, it smiled triumphantly and began to play some sort of charades. Wait, no. It was mimicking Swerve's coworker. And, if he was seeing this right, it was in a mocking manner.

He couldn't help the small snicker that left him, having to suppress a full blown laughing fit by biting down at his knuckles until it left marks. That seemed to satisfy the mermaid.

And also, finally, caught the attention of his coworker. “What's so funny? This is serious! Aren't you concerned at all for our future?”

Swerve had to compose himself, but that was made almost impossible by the continued mimicry of the creature directly behind his coworker. “S-sorry, sorry. Yes, of course, this is a very serious concern of yours…what are you concerned about again?”

He maybe should have felt bad for the way they exasperatedly threw their arms up, giving up in trying to converse with him, muttering something along the lines of “You're impossible!” But that was quickly shoved in favour of his amusement towards the fish currently still mimicking them.

Sometimes he'd go long periods of time without being able to see the creature, it left Swerve wondered if it could remember him. It looked pretty smart and seemed to understand things pretty well, to an almost unnervingly human level. He noticed that, whenever he returned, it seemed to be able to pick him out of any crowd and would offer him a brighter smile each time.

While one of his superiors explained to his group what they needed to do, they had stopped just a couple feet away from the tank that held the pretty, blue fish.

Swerve swears he was trying to pay attention, honestly! But the bright blue that reflected perfectly against the shine of the artificial lights simply caught at his eyes and it was impossible to look away.

When they had arrived, it was perched against another rock formation, swinging its tail back and forth as it stared at nothing in particular. He wondered if they gave it any form of entertainment or if it simply liked to stare mindlessly into the void. But the moment it caught sight of his team - and Swerve in particular - it lit up with energy, almost immediately jumping back inside the water and swimming closer to the glass that separated them.

Swerve pretended not to pay mind, not keen on getting in trouble again for not paying attention. And besides, it couldn't possibly be looking at him, right? It was probably just excited to see people after hours of solitude. But the longer he did that, the more saddened the creature looked. He couldn't disappoint the poor thing!

So, finally, he turned around to face it. They locked eyes for a brief moment. He couldn't quite describe the feeling, but it felt as if he was in the tank himself, floating with the creature in the vastness of the ocean, nothing else really mattering.

“Swerve!” The small bubble he had formed was harshly popped by his superior calling for his attention. He quickly turned back to look at his him, straightening his back and going stiff. “Pay attention when I'm speaking.”

“Yes, of course! Sorry, sir.” He sputtered out, relaxing just a tiny bit as he watched him let out an exasperated sigh while pinching the bridge of his nose. “As I was saying…”

Despite the way the call out left Swerve feeling hot in the face, he still found himself drifting back towards familiar blue. The striking, piercing eyes of the creature were patiently waiting for his, smiling.

Swerve smiled back, a little bashfully (which caused all sorts of conflicting thoughts to run laps around his brain). He rubbed the back of his neck absentmindedly, they continued to stare until the creature suddenly seemed…thoughtful? It was contemplating something, looking at the hand not currently resting against the glass of his confines.

Swerve tilted his head slightly, curious as to what it could possibly be thinking about. He watched as it turned to look back at him, a more shy smile displayed on his face before it did something that left Swerve stunned.

It waved.

It was such a small thing, such a small gesture, but it made Swerve's head spin and heart lurch. Up until now, it was always him who initiated the action, this was the first time he saw the fish do it instead.

He must have been staring for far too long because the creature suddenly became nervous and started to slow down its wave, looking away with uncertainty clear in its face.

“Swerve!” A booming voice called out, making him flinch. “Quit staring and get working!”

“Yes, sir! I'll be right over!” Swerve called back before quickly looking over at the mermaid and smiling, that big, bright smile that took over all his features, and hastily waved back before rushing after his group.

And, like always, he missed the way he left the fish stunned. But this time, it pushed itself backwards before swimming away with an electric spin, its own smile being all its face could show.

Okay so like. IMAGINE it starts pretty usual. Swerve hangs out in the Aquarium for whatever job related reason and accidentally makes friends with the weird looking fish hahah

But then the big Tsunami-flood apocalypse comes and everything is destroyed and water everywhere and all the buildings turn into sharp heavy deadly rubble and now Swerve has to team up with that weird looking fish because the end of the world contains A LOT of water and he never was a good swimmer

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) The Hexcore was already controlling Viktor in S1

As a follow-up to my post about how the Hexcore's control over Viktor in S2 is probably best compared to the One Ring from Lord of the Rings, in that it magically amplifies desires but to what extent its manipulations could be confused with free will is very hard to determine, I wanted to offer this piece of comparison to Lord of the Rings as further evidence that Viktor is under some level of control from the Hexcore as early as S1.

I was fortunate enough to take a course on Tolkien's works in college and there's one point our professor made that stuck with me. He pointed out that Frodo was always doomed to fail at casting the One Ring into Mt. Doom because he was already unable to do so back at Bag End, before he'd even spent significant time with the Ring.

It's less apparent in the show than in the book, so here's the quote,

"To Frodo's astonishment and distress the wizard threw it suddenly into the middle of a glowing corner of the fire. Frodo gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back."

Though his time with the Ring has only barely just begun, already Frodo is distressed at the thought of harm coming to the Ring and is trying to save it, before he even stepped out his door. How then was he ever supposed to throw it into the fire of Mt. Doom after having spent months in close proximity to it?

Well, this moment reminds me rather strikingly of this one:

This is only S1, the corruption of the Hexcore has only spread to Viktor's hands and leg, but it has also just killed Sky right in front of Viktor. He has been weeping on the ground, mourning her when he then resolves to destroy it and rises up, brandishing the stool.

Unlike Frodo, who had no idea what the Ring was at that point and still was distressed by the idea of harm coming to it, Viktor just saw the Hexcore kill someone right in front of him. And yet, like Frodo, he can't bring himself to harm it.

The Hexcore then actually physically shies away from the stool, which is where I get the notion at least that it is sentient, and then because Viktor had the audacity to raise a hand to it and fail to follow through, it knocks him out like a light:

This is why Viktor has to beg Jayce to destroy the Hexcore, and even there he can barely get the words out, and he only makes this request while far away from the lab and the Hexcore.

I would argue that the reason he doesn't explain more to Jayce there is because he might even be unable to, even asking that much might have been a strain. Or, I'll admit, perhaps there's any number of human reasons he didn't, like shame and fear.

Shame and fear that is of course gone by the time the Hexcore has consumed him when he finally tells Jayce what happened to Sky.

I would argue that the look of hopelessness and disappointment on Viktor's face when he decides to leave Jayce isn't because of the weapons blueprints he might have spotted on the lab table. Or at least, it's not only that.

Personally, I see that as Viktor knowing that he was now so physically consumed by the Hexcore he had no hope at all of fighting it anymore. To quote Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde, "I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil..."

So when people ask why Viktor is suddenly going along with everything the Hexcore wants, when before he wanted to destroy it, I would argue this: because it was already infecting him in S1 and in S1 he realized this and begged Jayce to destroy it because he knew it could stop him from doing so already. But because he was unwilling, or unable, to tell Jayce more about why he wanted it destroyed, Jayce instead defied his very strange request and used it to save Viktor's life as they had originally planned.

From that point on, I would argue, Viktor is under the thrall of the Hexcore and is carrying out its virus-like desire to spread itself and grow. I mean, just look at him, it now has consumed nearly every part of his body except his face. By the end, it has taken that from him as well.

Viktor might still have his own intelligence on top of it, but how much is very much the topic of ongoing debate. For the man to say that there is always a choice to suddenly say that there is no choice, the man who tried to destroy the Hexcore now freely spreading its power, and who once lashed out at the very notion of the use of Hextech as weapons making his own army of apex Hextech robots and using the Hexclaw against Jayce, and who looks so horrified at what he has done once the Hexcore's shell has been broken off of him by Ekko's bomb and Jayce's revelations, I would argue that we should assume at least some level of control was overpowering Viktor for much of S2, and that is exactly the fate he was trying to avoid in S1.

[myth1cs]

Obedience Through Discipline (Myoui Mina x M!Reader)

Smut; An officer not listening to their superior is a clear sign of disobedience. Luckily nothing a bit of discipline can't fix. Word Count: 3,021

The hard part was already over. Now that you've finished the training phase now you could finally start doing some actual work. You were assigned to officer Myoui Mina. She was the best officer at the station though many people felt bad for you which you didn't understand why at first.

It didn't take long for you to figure out why. She was always someone who was very stuck up about following the rules. Every mistake you made was followed by a scolding by Mina on why what you did was wrong. While yes you did believe that this line of work didn't have room for mistakes you still felt like she was being too harsh on you.

Things only got worse when she became a sheriff only after a few months since you were partnered with her. Even though time after time she had clearly expressed her disdain for you she never made an attempt to get you fired. In fact ever since she became sheriff it felt like she was keeping a closer eye on you. And you'd be lying if you said it wasn't making you nervous.

During your break you were sitting in your patrol car alone since your partner Nayeon decided to have her break inside. While you were eating your lunch you heard a knocking on your window. You looked up and saw that it was none other than sheriff Mina.

You rolled down your window and greeted her. "Hello sheriff Mina. Can I help you with anything?"

"You know about the parade happening downtown next week right?"

"Of course, what about it?"

"Well Ryujin got injured in the line of duty yesterday and the doctor said she wouldn't be fit to come into work for the next 2 months. So now I need someone to replace her for patrolling the area around the parade. I'm guessing you can see where I'm going with this."

This was a surprise to you. Why was she asking you anyway? There were officers who have been serving longer in the police force which she respected more that would be available to take over Ryujin's shift.

"With all due respect sheriff I believe others may be more qualified than me. Why not try asking officer Kyujin or-"

"I don't think you understand Y/N. This isn't a request, it's an order. You WILL be the one patrolling the area during next week's parade."

You let out a sigh knowing that there was no debating this with her. Once Mina makes up her mind her decision is final.

"Alright sheriff."

You rolled back up your window and Mina walked back towards the station. "Damn brat, who does he think he is trying to tell me how to do my job? Tsk, it's my fault for letting his disobedience go on for too long. I'll have to do something about that."

Breathing a sigh of relief you were glad that the encounter went rather well. Usually she would scold you for trying to talk back for at least half an hour but this time she didn't. Though you wondered if this truly was a good thing or if there was another reason behind Mina's actions. But you didn't ponder on that idea for too long. It was silly to think otherwise... or so you thought.

The week flew by in a blink of an eye. Before you knew it it was the day before the parade. You had to attend a meeting about where everyone would be stationed at the parade and what protocols to follow. You weren't really paying attention to Mina's speech though. Not like your role was rather complicated. Just simply patrolling the perimeter, if you see anything suspicious you were to report it.

"Y/N! Y/N!"

Mina's yelling took you out of your thoughts.

"Wh- what happened?"

The whole room had gone silent. Everyone simply stared at you without saying a word. Mina walked towards you and you felt your heartbeat fasten. You felt like your heart was going to explode or that you would faint from nervousness at any moment.

"You think you're too smart for this huh?" Mina said with a mocking tone.

"N- no I would never-"

"Meet me at my office."

Mina walked back to the front of the room. The tension was thick in the air. Everyone paid attention to Mina, everyone was too scared to look away from Mina.

The meeting wasn't supposed to go on for too long. But it felt like it went by in just a few seconds while also feeling like it went on for 5 hours. Everyone avoided you as they left the room. You followed Mina to her office, hands sweating, and your heart was beating so loud you thought everyone in the building could hear it.

Mina unlocked her office door and walked in. Your legs didn't want to move forward. Was it fear? But what were you afraid of? Losing your job or was it something else?

"What are you waiting for Y/N?"

"Pardon me."

You walked in. Mina closed the door behind you and locked it which made you more nervous. "Sit down." Mina commanded as she pointed at a chair. You obeyed and sat down.

"You know what you did wrong?"

"I uhm-"

Mina sat down on her desk crossing her legs. She reached down to grab your chin and lifted it up to make you look at her.

"Look into my eyes as you say it."

"I wasn't listening."

"Say it with your full chest Y/N. I can't hear you."

"I wasn't listening!"

"Not listening to your superior are you Y/N? How troublesome indeed, will I have to punish you for this?"

"No sheriff, I'll behave from now on."

"Good to hear Y/N."

Mina's voice suddenly dropped.

"Cause this is your last warning."

Mina got off her table and went to sit down on her chair behind her desk. "Now get out."

Without hesitation you got up from your chair and made your way out of her office. As you left her office you breathed out a sigh of relief.

You went to your car to drive home but you suddenly bumped into your partner, Nayeon, in the parking lot.

"So Y/N were you fired?"

"What kind of question is that?! No I wasn't fired!"

"Relax Y/N I just had to know. So what did Mina talk to you about?"

"She just told me that this was my last warning."

"Well if that's all then I guess that's rather tame then."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Y/N I don't think I need to spell it out for you. Mina doesn't take things like this very lightly. If it was anyone else I'm sure she would've fired them already. And don't you think that she's been scolding you less recently?"

"Yeah I kinda picked up on it. Maybe this is a sign that she's turning over a new leaf."

"We can only hope so. Still the aura I get from even being in the same room as her is terrifying. I swear she gives off nothing but "Look at me the wrong way and I'll kill you" vibes."

"I swear she's knocked a few years off my life already."

"I feel that, anyways good luck with patrol duty tomorrow."

"Good luck to you to Nayeon."

-

The day of the parade came and you, along with a few other officers, were assigned to patrol the parameter and told to report anything deemed suspicious.

The area you were currently paroling didn't have many people. A few people passed by but nothing suspicious was happening in particular.

As you were walking you saw two people in an ally way. It seemed like they were committing an act of vandalism. While you were ordered to report things this wasn't any suspicious activity it was just people being stupid so you decided to just quickly deal with the situation.

Vandalism isn't something that you would arrest someone for in all honesty it was just a small misdemeanor but realized these were the same people you've had run-ins with these people before. At this point they were just begging for a prison sentence. The sentence for something like this was only up to a year so you didn't feel too bad.

-

Mina put Hwi in charge while she went on her break. For some reason she couldn't shake off the feeling that even though she told you that you were on your last warning you would still not listen to her. She made her way to where you were stationed.

"What the- I give him ONE job and he can't even follow that."

She pulled out her phone and called you. It only rang a few times before you picked up.

"Yes Mina?"

"Where are you?!"

"I'm driving these two people to the station-"

"Damn it you're supposed to report things! Do you even listen to me when I speak to you?!"

"Mina I-"

"I don't want to hear it! Meet me at my office the minute you're off the clock."

"But-" Before you could rebuttal Mina had already hung up.

You knew you were about to lose your job.

-

Once you got back to the parade Mina assigned someone else to stay by your side to make sure that you wouldn't deviate from your job.

The rest of the parade went fine. Nothing major happened that was worth noting. But you couldn't help but wish that it wouldn't end. You weren't prepared to be yelled at by Mina and get fired.

To your dismay the parade ended and so did your shift. You got a good look at yourself in your uniform before you walked to Mina's office knowing this was the last time you would be wearing it.

You had to pull yourself together and muster all your strength and courage to walk to Mina's office. Now you were standing in front of her door and you prepared for the worst.

Putting your hand on the handle and turning it you fully opened the door. Mina was sitting behind her desk sorting some paperwork.

Unsure what to do, you stood at the doorway simply staring at Mina. After a few minutes she looked up and made eye contact with you.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come in and take a seat in front of me?"

Without saying a word you walked in and closed the door before you went to sit down in front of Mina not daring to make any sort of eye contact with her.

She looked at you for a few seconds before she went to type something on her computer. It seemed like she was just doing work for the sake of it but you couldn't tell.

Eventually she got up and walked up to her board where she had pinned a few documents. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was about time where most people were headed home. Most officers working at this hour were patrolling the downtown area.

Mina sighed and turned to face you. "It's impossible for you to listen. So what should I do with you?"

Was it a rhetorical question?

"I'd much prefer if I could keep my job, sheriff."

"You're almost at your one year mark. And this marks my third month of having to deal with you as sgeriff. So..."

"Please don't fire me."

"That's not what I asked so I'll ask again, What should I do with you?"

"Uhm"

"Ran out of excuses have you?"

"I never made excuses sheriff."

Mina took a deep breath.

"Do you know why I'm stringent with the rules Y/N?"

"Because this line of work doesn't have room for failure?"

"Well that's not my main reason. Do you know the main reason?"

"I don't, sheriff."

"It's because I don't want to see people hurt." Mina walked over to you towering over you. "Or maybe I should be more specific. I don't want to see you hurt."

Mina reached behind her back and grabbed handcuffs. She danged them in front of you. "But I can't just let this slip by. I'm going to punish you."

The situation seemed to develop so fast you didn't register what Mina just said until she was handcuffing you.

"Sorry I leave the fuzzy handcuffs at home so we'll have to make do with these."

Part of you was hoping she was joking. Was this really happening, were you about to do it with Mina?!

"Don't do this Mina. Th- this isn't right!"

"Don't speak back to me you filthy brat!"

Mina's sudden outburst scared you and made you quickly shut up not daring to try to speak out of term.

"Now be a good boy for my Y/N. Just sit here and accept your punishment."

Mina got down on her knees and started to undo your pants. There wasn't anything you could do but simply watch. Once she took off your pants she ran her fingers along your thigh.

"P- please stop."

"You want me to stop darling? But your body is reacting so eagerly to my touch. Are you sure you want me to stop?"

She wasn't lying, you were yearning for her touch as much as you wanted to deny it. Before you could respond Mina smacked your thigh. It wasn't too harsh but it stung a little.

"But darling, I thought I told you not to speak out. Don't make me remind you again okay?"

"Ow fuck-"

She smacked you again.

"Drop the language."

"Y- yes ma'am."

Mina kissed your thighs while her fingers were rubbing against your clothed aching cock. You wanted this to continue but you knew this was wrong. It's not like this is standard protocol and she didn't even ask if you were okay with it. Yet you still couldn't help but be turned on by the given situation.

Even though you denied it your body knew what it really wanted. Shivering every time she ran her finger on your body to your cock hardening it was all too obvious.

She could tell you wanted to say something. "If you want to say something then I'm granting you this opportunity to say it."

"Please"

"Please what darling? Use your big boy words now."

"Suck me off Mina please I'm begging you."

"Begging now are we? Well I'm not entirely convinced yet, maybe you should beg me some more and I'll consider listening to you."

"Mina please, I really want you to fuck me until I can't walk. I want to lose all senses and be at your mercy."

Mina giggled at your statement. "Oh darling if you think that's enough to get me to listen to you you're going to have to try a little harder than that I'm afraid."

"Please fuck me Mina! I only crave your touch, I swear I'll listen to every order you give me!"

Mina rubbed her nose against your clothed cock. "That's more like it darling. However since you've been so disobedient then you'll have to make me cum before I give you any pleasure."

She proceeded to stand up and take off her clothes. Mina made sure to take her sweet time taking off her clothes. She knew it was driving you crazy and you wanted to get up and take her clothes off for her but your hands were handcuffed to each other.

Eventually she stripped down to her bra and underwear. Both were the same colour of pink. Mina sat up on her desk and started to rub her pussy using one of her fingers.

Low moans fell out of her mouth as she pleasured herself. You couldn't do anything but watch. You felt yourself get turned on by watching the scene unfold in front of you.

"What are you waiting for darling? Come and make me cum!"

"My hands are tied."

Mina laughed at your comment "Of course you are darling. But I didn't put a gag on you did I?"

When you realized what Mina wanted you leaned forward and used your mouth to take off her underwear.

"Just like that darling, make this a learning experience!"

You buried your face onto Mina's pussy and shoved your tongue deep into her. Mina wrapped her legs around you tightly cutting off your air supply. "If you want to breathe then make me cum. Or else you'll suffocate between my thighs. Though I'm guessing you'd be okay with that wouldn't you darling?"

Fastening your pace you licked every inch of Mina's delicious pussy. Part of you wished your hands weren't tied so you could grab her boobs. But the current situation would do.

Though you tried desperately you felt yourself losing consciousness and before you knew it everything went black. "Aw did you pass out already?"

Mina unwrapped her thighs that were around your head and started to finger herself. Wet sounds filled the room as she shoved her fingers in and out of herself while her other hand was on her clit.

You were suddenly woken up by the feeling of something splashing on your face. When your eyes adjusted you realized it must've been Mina's cum.

"Oh your awake again darling?"

"Mina what-"

Another smack was given to you.

"What did I say about speaking out of term? And to think I thought about letting you cum. Since you seem to suck at making me cum and suck at listening to orders then I'll let you sit here and think about your actions."

Mina got up and put her clothes back on and you didn't do anything but watch as she started to leave the room.

"Don't worry darling I'll come and get you early in the morning. Till then think about your actions and I might let you cum first thing in the morning!" Mina said as she left the room closing the door behind her leaving you handcuffed to the chair to think about your actions that lead you to this moment.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry for not uploading even though I said I would get back on schedule. In my defense I've been reading a really good Lux/Jinx fanfic.

Starring: You Mina, Nayeon (TWICE) Ryujin (ITZY) Kyujin (NMIXX) Hwi (TNX)

[hitomisuzuya]

Wanderer stumbling upon reader bathing in hot springs alone after an exposition and joins? (nsfw) but with breast praise/service

wanderer (scaramouche) x fem!reader. smut. nipple play. clitoral orgasm. praise.

to be honest, i wasn't sure what you meant by exposition 😅 forgive me.

there is just something about a quiet, open air bath in a hot spring. the peace to soak in the warm water alone with no one else around is unmatched. you hadn't counted on any intrusions, being as late as it was at night.

wanderer was trying to find a quiet tree to hang out in. he didn't know the true meaning of the word temptation until he saw you, standing naked in the hot spring, your back turned to him, letting water cascade down your body.

he knew he should've fucked off the moment he saw you, but he is frozen in place. his eyes drawn to the curve of your ass, the side peek of your breasts as you bent down to cup more water into your hand.

he considered just quietly going up into a nearby tree to watch you bathe unnoticed when you suddenly turned around. he'd been too distracted by the teasing curve of your hips.

clearly startled to see him, you immediately sank into the water to cover yourself, putting your arms over your chest. "oh my, you scared me. there usually is no one here at this time," you exclaimed, the flush on your cheeks wasn't caused by the warmth of the hot spring.

wanderer wore a similar one. "sounds like a you issue and not a me issue," he scoffs, crossing his arms. "i'll just turn around and walk back the way i came," he didn't want to. and he wouldn't. he knew the perfect tree to hide in so he could keep shamelessly staring at you.

you shook your head, looking away shyly. "you don't have to leave. you can come in if you want. this is a public hot spring," you cutely huddle further down into the water. "besides it's probably nothing you haven't seen before. the human body is a very natural thing, after all," you have a habit of talking a lot of when you are flustered.

you have always seen this boy wearing a glare that made your heart pound in ways you didn't even think were possible.

"oh yeah?" wanderer could tell you are fighting the urge not to look at him as he took off his clothes, "then why are you trying to hide it?" he teases as he gets into the hot spring.

"because it's more dignified that way. shut up," you bat some water at him with your hand.

"i gotta say, you are cute when you are shy and angry," it is so satisfying to him to see the blush on your cheeks darken as he settles into the water next to you.

for wanderer, time seemed to stand still for him. and he didn't quite notice when time returned to normal again, with you straddling his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck while he tongue devours your mouth.

water sloshes quietly around you as he adjusts you in his lap. your pussy had just brushed against his cock, filling him with the overwhelming need to feel tucked between your folds. "you know," he murmurs, pulling away to nip at your lower lip, "i always thought temptation was a very human word. until i saw you," he snatched your lips up in another deep, open mouthed kiss, swallowing a groan as his cock throbs against your pussy.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, opening your mouth for his tongue. you moan softly into his mouth as he grinds his cock on your pussy. seeking more friction, you move your in hips to meet him halfway. you shiver as his tongue glides against yours. "your lips are so soft," you marvel, a little dazed as he pulls away again.

grinding into his lap, you move your head down for another kiss. wanderer smirks as he scoffs softly, "pretty, needy thing, aren't you?" he puts a hand on your chin to stop you. the soft whine you let out at being stopped made his cock harder against your pussy.

"being up against you just so happens to feel good," wanderer can absolutely tell your blustering nonsense to cover up how shy you feel. you probably have never done anything bold like this before. it is genuinely adorable how easy it is to work you up.

his eyes travel to your tempting breasts. "i think i'll indulge myself," he cups your breast, skimming his thumb across your nipple, "you just keep moaning all pretty for me," the tip of his tongue flicks out across your nipple.

you sigh shakily, arching your back to bring your chest to his mouth. taking this as an invitation to do as he pleases, he swirls his tongue around your nipple. "so soft," he marvels, squeezing your breast before giving your nipple a gentle pinch.

he quickly scoops your nipple into his mouth. the way his tongue flicked against your sensitive, hardening nipple as he sucked felt like he was exploring the sensation of it on his tongue. the way your body shivers as he pinches your other nipple is intoxicating to him.

you whimper, seeking friction from his cock on your throbbing clit. "you sound as pretty as your body feels responding to me," keeping an arm braced around your back, he kept your chest anchored over his mouth as he moved to your other nipple.

he greedily wants more from you. you just sound too fucking sweet, whimpering touch starved with need for him. his hand lingers, groping on your breast before it drops into the water. he is eager to feel and hear how you would sound if his fingers were working your clit over.

you couldn't stop your moans as his fingers rub and pinch your clit. your thighs tremble as you grind into his fingers. "that's a good girl," he moans, wagging his finger across your clit, "let it all out."

wanderer's sucks are eager on your nipple. the more you twitch and tremble in his hands, the more he pursued you. his cock aches to feel you shake while you cum. he chuckles hearing you moan a little louder when he praises you.

"my pretty, pretty girl. i think i'll keep you," he swirls his tongue around and around your nipple, "a delicate pet all for me," he rolls your clit between the pads of his fingers.

overwhelmed by pleasure, your thighs tremble as he coaxes your orgasm into building up. the only thing you could do was helplessly moan while he experimented on your body, sussing out what made you moan the loudest.

"how obedient, practically cumming already for me," he purrs, increasing the pressure on your clit. it throbs underneath his fingers, fraying the knot of your orgasm apart suddenly. he drinks in the fucked out haze clouding your eyes, your body quaking in his hands from the intensity of your orgasm.

panting, your head drops down onto his shoulder. "wanna go home with you," you murmur softly, nuzzling your cheek against his neck as he rubs your clit through your orgasm.

wanderer has already made up his mind though. you weren't going to spend the night doing anything else but being impaled on his cock.

[thepitlanepress]

PUT ME DOWN –

↳ max verstappen + gf!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: i come back from the dead!! jk lol the hiatus was good and it is nice being here but lets be fr i only came back for the fics. part 3 of the lando fic will be out soon !!

max is a stubborn man.

you know that. what you also know is that you're a stubborn girl.

so when you hurt your ankle on the stairs leaving some event you weren't paying attention to, you don't tell max, simply smiling through the pain and limping slightly, not wanting to bother max on his night.

the only problem was that max could tell something was off, turning to look at you every so often with a concerned look in his eyes as you made your way through the crowd of people, and whispering occasionally, "is everything alright?"

you tell him that you're fine and to stop worrying but again something about your act is off and max can clearly tell something is wrong.

so right then amidst the swarming crowd of fans and paparazzi he - gently - pulls you along, back into the building and away from the prying eyes of the public.

"what is wrong schat?" his voice is quiet and the dip between his brows only increases when you lower yourself onto the stairs trying not to wince.

"i knew something was up," he murmurs sitting down beside you. "what happened liefje?" he says wrapping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing softly.

"i fell on the stairs earlier, some asshole dropped an oyster on the floor and i slipped on it," you say grimacing and trying to lift your foot to see what the damage is.

max lets go and drops down a few steps then, gently lifting your dress up and inspecting your ankle. you wince when he touches it and he definitely has a frown on his face now.

"how did you manage to walk on this liefje? its purple."

"magic?" you try and joke to lighten the mood, but from the prominent concern on his face it didn't help much.

"yn, you can't walk on this," he says looking up at you from where he's crouched.

"but i have to, we have to get to the car," you say trying to shake his touch off, trying to ignore how how loving and gentle it is to stand up.

"i'll carry you."

"the car is like halfway down the hill! and there are too many people outside for you to carry me," you protest, but before you can get another word out he has scooped you into his arms and started towards the door. "max! put me down!" you squeal.

"no, i will not be putting you down until you're safely in that car okay? liefje, i love you, let me take care of you," he murmurs placing a kiss to your forehead and pushing the door open with his shoulder.

"i could say the same for you," you mutter rolling your eyes, knowing just how stubborn max can be after a tough race. he eventually caves though, for you. and only for you.

"thats an argument for another day," he chuckles as you round the corner and head straight into the crowd.

max true to his word, doesn't put you down until the car, fending off the invasive paparazzi and fans like he promised, careful not to hurt your foot anymore than it already is.

"see its not too bad letting me take care of you is it?" he smirks as he exits the larger crowd and now just dodges the few fews that wait for a glimpse of him, pressing a kiss onto your shoulder.

"i still vote you put me down."

"oh hush."

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments, likes and reblogs appreciated !

[acosmicbee]

Teddy Bear pt.2

(Not beta read so hopefully there aren't any major typos... Also, this is Tumblr exclusive and written from scratch so I hope you enjoy! Platonic Yandere Family x Child Reader)

You weren't quite sure what had happened, and it didn't help that no one would tell you. These people-- these strangers-- weren't your family, but they were acting like they were. Dinner had been an uncomfortable affair and you'd spent most of it hiding behind your teddy bear while Stephan tried to make sure you ate.

Emma was chatting with her parents and siblings, occasionally placing a hand on your head or gently chiding you to try eating a little more. But you felt like you could barely keep your food down, anxious as you kept glancing around at all these people you didn't know.

Of course you had liked Emma and Stephan, they'd been so nice to you when you'd met. They'd made you feel comfortable and safe, but they'd also taken advantage of that. They'd used your security against you, to steal you away. Sure they were being nice now, as were the people around them, but you remembered all those times your school had cops come in to talk about kidnappings. You remembered how they'd showed the statistics of all the kids who'd never made it out alive.

You tried to stifle a sniffle in the fur of your bear, staring down at your lap as a tear steamed down your face. Sure your family hadn't been the greatest... but they were still your family. More importantly, would you ever see your grandma again? The woman who'd spent her time to make you a special gift when you had nothing.

Emma frowned down at you, seeming to have noticed your distressed state. She shared a look with Stephan before excusing herself from the table, picking you up as she carried you from the room. You just let her take you, feeling worse as the sound of talking faded away.

Emma was talking to you, quietly cooing and whispering little promises that fell on deaf ears. She carried you into the room you were apparently staying in, setting you on her and Stephan's bed as she kneeled to look up at your face.

"Hey, sweetheart. What's with the tears?" She asked gently, reaching up to brush a tear off your face. "Do you want to lie down, honey? We can take a minute to ourselves if you need that. We don't want to rush you."

You just nodded, letting yourself flop over onto the bed as you lay on your side. All you could think about was your grandma, how you weren't sure if you'd ever get to see her again. You let Emma play with your hair, trying to calm you down as you cried. It didn't take very long before the adrenaline stopped rushing through, your body unable to continue being in fight or flight and still function. You fell asleep on the bed, your tears drying on your face.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

"...time, honey. They'll be okay, I promise." You heard a voice murmur. Your body felt like it weighed a hundred pounds as you slowly woke up. You were thirsty, which your body had decided was enough reason to rouse you from your much needed sleep.

You slowly sat up, still trying to register your surroundings. The voices around you went quiet as you rubbed your eyes, carefully climbing off the bed. You didn't even make it two steps before you were being cradled in warm arms, a gentle hand stroking your back.

"Hey sweetheart, did you need something?" A voice asked. It took you a second to recognize the person as Stephan, looking at him with sleepy eyes.

"Water..." You said, ignoring him as he cooed at you for being cute and sleepy.

"Of course, love. Emma, could you...?"

"Yeah, I'll go grab them some water." She said, appearing beside him. She smiled down at you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before disappearing back out of view.

You spent the few minutes before she got back, being gently rocked, tucked against a cozy chest. It almost made you drift off again, but the second you were about to give in and close your eyes a cup of water was passed to you.

You took small sips, finishing the whole cup quickly. Instead of being allowed to go back to bed, you were changed into a soft pair of pajamas and carried into the bathroom to brush your teeth. By the time you were deemed 'ready for bedtime', you were getting fussy.

You were placed onto the air mattress where you'd first woken up instead of the bed, your teddy bear hugged close to you. A fluffy blanket was pulled over your body as your head hit the pillow. You heard the voices start talking softly again but couldn't bring yourself to care enough to listen in as you fell back asleep.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

"They're just so precious... Did you see their little frown when I made them brush their teeth?" Stephan asked, looking over for the fourth time in ten minutes to make sure you were still comfortably sleeping. Tomorrow Emma's parents were having a kid bed delivered for you, probably along with a whole slew of new clothes, toys and other activities for a kid your age.

"I saw. Hopefully they'll be able to eat a bit more at breakfast. I know they're still adjusting and just need some time but it worried me when they tired themself out like that..." Emma said, smiling as you murmured something incoherent in your sleep. "They're such a good kid... I hope they finally feel the love they've been missing."

"I'm sure they do Em. Have you booked them a ticket for our return flight next week yet?" Stephan asked, yawning as he climbed into bed. Emma cursed under her breath as she grabbed her laptop from her luggage.

"You're a lifesaver Steph. Don't know what I'd do without you." She said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "You go to bed, okay love? I'll get everything sorted out. Love you honey."

"Love you more." Stephan murmured back. Emma turned off the bedside lamp, dimming her computer screen as she navigated booking you a seat between the two of them for when the three of you would head home next week.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

Emma had been up much longer than she'd expected to be. She'd booked your ticket hours ago, but had then stumbled down an internet rabbit hole regarding childcare. What had started with a simple search about introducing a new kid to a home had led her to some darker corners of the internet.

She was watching a video made by a woman regarding settling a child in after a unanticipated adoption when she heard you stir. She turned on the light, knowing that Stephan could sleep through it, as she climbed out of bed to kneel beside you.

Even in your sleep you looked distressed, your body twisted up into a ball as you let out a soft whine. Emma frowned, reaching out to try and soothe you when you suddenly jolted awake. A strangled cry left you when you saw her before you began to cry.

She gently shushed you, pulling you into her arms as she gently rocked you. You looked conflicted, torn between resisting the woman who kidnapped you or leaning into the novel and warm feeling of comfort she brought you. Eventually, you let yourself relax into her arms, letting her stroke your back as she delicately handled you.

"You're alright sweetheart. Do you want to talk about it, Y/N? I'm here to listen if you wish." Her voice was soft and patient and only served to confuse you more.

"Why are you being nice to me?" You asked through tears. "Why aren't you being mean?! Kidnappers are supposed to be mean!"

A look of hurt flashed across her face for a second, but she coaxed your head to rest against her chest before you could dwell on it. Her nice behavior was so confusing to you. How could this couple who had kidnapped you treat you so much nicer than your parents had? Were you a horrible child if there was a little voice inside of you begging you to behave so you could stay with them?

"Sweetheart," Emma sighed. She gently rubbed your back as she continued to speak. "The reason Stephan and I... adopted you was because we felt you deserved so much better than what you were getting. You deserved to have a life where you were told you were loved every single day. You deserved to wake up each morning with a smile. You were, and are, such a sweet kid but you were being forced out of a childhood."

"B-but you don't know me! I could be bad or just pretending! Maybe I deserved it!" You argued back, the words of your parents echoing through your head. They'd always let you know how bad you were and why they never loved you the way they loved your sister.

Emma's heart broke hearing your words as she pulled you even closer, kissing the top of your head. It took her a minute to find the words she wanted to say and even longer to put aside the idea of tracking down your old parents to teach them a lesson.

"Y/N, sweetheart, no matter how 'bad' a kid is they still deserve love. You could be the worst kid on the planet and still deserve love, but I don't think you are. A bad kid wouldn't have offered a stranger her teddy bear because they were scared. A bad kid wouldn't have been as polite as you've been. You aren't bad, lovely, you were never bad. You were just around people who couldn't appreciate you."

That incited a new wave of tears. Your arms came up to cling to Emma's pajama top, holding her close as you sobbed. You- you weren't bad? You did deserve love? Could she be right? You wanted her to be right. You desperately needed her to be right.

"A-Am I wrong? I don't wanna leave... I don't wanna go back... Is that wrong? Does that make me bad?" You whispered, not even sure if she'd heard you until she pulled you even closer. She just smiled into your hair, kissing the top of your head again.

"Oh sweetheart... Of course you aren't bad. You're allowed to be happy that you got out of a bad situation. You're allowed to be happy that you finally feel loved. You're allowed to feel the way you feel." She said, carefully grabbing your teddy before standing up with you in her arms.

She carried you over to the bed, laying you down next to Stephan's sleeping body. She placed her laptop on the nightstand before climbing in beside you and turning off the light. An arm wrapped around your waist, and you felt someone cuddling you close for the very first time. It was warm...

You decided you liked being held close as you drifted off to sleep.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

Slowly, over the course of the week you spent with Emma's family, you started to open up. You would let Emma's parents dress you up and buy you toys. You would let her siblings ruffle your hair and twirl you around. Every night you'd find your way in between Emma and Stephan, being held close as they reminded you how much they loved you.

It was only on the day before you left that you approached Emma's father with a request. You'd whispered it into his ear, your eyes lighting up when he responded. You'd hugged him tightly and Stephan had smiled watching as his soon to be father-in-law hugged you back with a chuckle.

Later that day you handed him a slip of paper. He didn't look at it, just tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. It was only later, while your new grandmother was giving you a luxurious bubble bath, that he pulled them aside.

"Y/N wanted me to send this to her grandmother." He said bluntly, pulling out the piece of paper. "I'm ready to follow your lead on whether or not to send it. They're your kid."

Emma and Stephan took a moment to read over the letter, murmuring between each other. Eventually they came to an agreement, turning back to Alexi. "You can send the letter."

"Are you sure?" He asked, taking the piece of paper back.

"She needs to get it off her chest. Please forward any response to my address back home." Emma said, holding Stephan's hand. The sound of your laughter echoed through the house, a testament to how far you'd come since you'd first arrived.

They knew that everything would be okay.

—⁺˖°ʚ🧸ɞ°⁺˖—

"I'm looking for a Miss Aurelia." A man dressed in a nice suit said. Aurelia wasn't in the mood, wanting to go back to mourning her lost grandchild.

"I'm not interested." She murmured, going to shut the door when the man stopped her, holding out a letter. She looked at him confused before taking the envelope. "What is this?"

"This is a letter Miss Y/N wrote for you." He said, watching the way her eyes widened. She instantly opened the envelope, pulling out the letter written in your childish scrawl.

Hi Grandma! I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. I'm living with these super nice people named Emma and Stephan. They're taking good care of me and make me feel the same way you do. I don't need to do all the chores and they make sure to tell me that they love me everyday. I'm sorry that I didn't get to see you, but Emma said maybe next time we can go visit you! That way you can still knit Teddy a sweater! I still have him, he's all safe with no rips or tears at all! I love you the most grandma! Don't forget about me! -Y/N

Your grandma held the letter close, tears streaming down her face. She'd thought she'd lost you forever when her idiot son had turned up, talking about how they'd been given a large sum of money in return for your adoption. She'd yelled at him, disowning him and refusing him any entry to her home. But now... now she knew you were safe and sound.

"If you wish to write a response, you can send it here." The man said, handing her a card with an address printed on it. "Have a good day, Miss Aurelia."

Your grandmother never stopped crying as she closed the door and locked it. Not as she walked over to the mantle where she'd turned all your pictures around to flip them the right way again. Not as she finally picked up her knitting needles, which she hadn't touched since she'd heard the news, and started on the sweater for your bear.

She hoped your new family were treating you with the love you deserved. More than that, she hoped that you'd be able to see each other as soon as possible. You deserved the world, and she was glad it seemed like someone was finally giving it to you.

[worstgenerationloser]

Could you please do ace, shanks and benn defending their f s/o from a misogynistic man? I had to face one at work and he gave me the absolute ICK

,, Rushing to your aid! ''

Ace, Shanks, and Beckman x F! Reader.

Summary... how would your boyfriend defend you from a misogynistic man?

Contains... misogyny, mentions of harassment, depictions of bloody violence, and some slight fluff!

A/N: IM SORRY YOU HAD TO DEAL WITH THAT ANON💕 I hope since you sent in this ask the men have left you alone! If not I'll ward them away myself!! 🤺🤺

Portgas D. Ace

Ace doesn't register it completely, so at first he's confused on why this man is talking to you as if you were a baby (mostly because he's a dumbass)

Now, even if he wasn't aware the man was being misogynistic at first, he's still rushing towards you because there's literally a weird man talking to you the way you would to a little kid, and you definitely looked angry enough to tear off his head.

"Woah, what's happening here?" Instinctively and natural as breathing, his arm slips around your shoulders and his fingers move to gently graze your arm in an attempt to console you.

He doesn't like showing his temper much, but when people precious to him are involved, his angry heart bursts into flames. When the man speaks, his jaw drops out of pure disbelief. According to him, he was mansplaining how pirates operate to you. Which is weird, because Ace knows that you're definitely well versed in pirates... Considering you're his girlfriend.

He wanted to diffuse the situation, but it seems like this random needed a reality check.

"Hm... Good to know, but I'm sure it's irrelevant to her." His smile is wide and joyous, but the ominous shadow looming over his face is anything but.

"But she's clueless!", the man rambles on and bumbles about like a headless chicken, before he turns back to get one good look at Ace. Then it clicks in his pea-sized brain that maybe you know a bit more about pirates than him.

Ace looks a little scary when he's mad, you discover . But mostly cute.

"My girlfriend doesn't need to explain her knowledge to some random asshole who couldn't make a lasting impact on her life if he tried, you're way below her, buddy."

With gritted teeth, Ace tries to not light fire to the whole town, but only you seem to notice his body is literally smoking hot.

According to Ace, the guy ran a little too slow, and that's how he ended up naked covered in burn marks! The marines didn't believe him, though, and you two were left to flee.

"Can you believe the balls on that guy? It's not like you're unknown, either. Portgas D. Ace's kickass girlfriend! It's got a nice ring to it, eh?"

He nudges you a little too hard and sends you flying into a bush, but you appreciate the cute moments with him no matter how brief.

Red-Haired Shanks

Shanks learned many things during his time in the Roger Pirates, but one thing really stuck with him throughout the years. He can tolerate being spat on and kicked around, if his crew sees it as a threat then he's not gonna stop them from doing whatever it is they're planning, but he's not gonna ask them to go out of their way to deal with it.

But when someone disrespects his crew, and especially you?

Oh, he's pissed.

You think he doesn't realize at first, but he's keeping a very close eye on you two. He tries to keep his ass planted firmly into his chair per Beckman's request. Beckman is the mature one, and he's almost never wrong in the astute observations he makes. Despite this, Shanks has no self control and he's lobbing himself towards the bar where you sit.

Beckman shakes his head disapprovingly at his captain, because unlike him, Beck knows you can handle yourself.

The man in question harassing you seems to be a small time criminal with a bounty of 50,000... That doesn't deter Shanks, it might have egged him on even more because who does he think he is harassing you?

By the time Shanks has made his way to you, your harasser seems to have taken it upon himself to demean you for your appearance, pulling out all the classics like "bitch" "whore" , and "slut" to name a few. Shanks, of course, finds absolutely no amusement in this. I'm sure you can guess what happened next.

Your harasser tries to argue and degrade you a little more when Shanks steps up, not realizing how silent the bar has suddenly become. He didn't even realize the hundreds of eyes disappearing from him, not wanting to watch things unfold.

"You're drunk, I'll give you that one." Shanks barks out a laugh like he finds it funny, but up close you can see that gleam in his eyes.

Well... it's not like you could stop him anyways.

But you really wish he left the bar standing, at least. It certainly isn't doing good for his reputation as an emperor of the seas.

When Beckman scolds him as if he were a child on deck, he laughs like he'll forget about it in a day or two. But everyone knows Shanks will be doing it all over again in a heartbeat. He holds you extra close that night, trying to make sure your heart isn't tainted by the venomous words spat.

"I don't want anybody, big name or small, disrespecting people I hold dear to me."

His words are sweet while he whispers to you in bed... he's an odd man, but he's yours.

Benn Beckman

Two words. Broken. Bones.

Beckman does not play around with his girl, at all. He'll bash in heads day and night if someone even looks at you the wrong way, but he restrains himself because he's not a jealous young man anymore, so he likes to think.

Regarding everything else, he's cool as a cucumber, he prefers to let things wash over by themselves and only offers advice if he senses things will go astray. (as previously mentioned)

You're his girl, and a damn beautiful one, so he isn't surprised when some people try and scope you out, the same happens to him with many women, so why be so hypocritical about it? His heart is locked inside of yours for the rest of his life whether you want him or not, so he knows you won't run off with another no matter how much Shanks jokes about it.

If they're a little persistent, he might walk up to you and give you a few kisses so they get the message. But this man was definitely not "a little persistent."

Beck doesn't have a second to think of what he should do when he hears the utterances of vile comments slip from this man's mouth after you turned him down, because he's already right next to you quicker than his own head can wrap around. He's big, tall and scary, enough so to make someone shake with just a look.

"A grown man like yourself should know that ain't no way to talk to a lady." His voice is low, and he's talking nice and slow for your harassers ears only.

Beck heard it all, him hitting on you in an unceremonious way, all the way to demeaning you when you rejected him, spouting the same chewed up rhetoric that is "women are only good for bearing children" and whatnot. He can't let that pass no matter how capable you may be of handling it yourself.

"And what are you gonna do about it?" The man's words were proven to be a bad move before his lips could rest against eachother.

Following that, there was quite a sight. Somehow Beckman managed to twist the poor guy into some kind of abstract form of art, all bloody and fucked up with no more teeth left.

And of course he ushered you away after wiping his hands clean enough for you, because he's a gentleman, he didn't do it for himself, it was for you!

"M'sorry you had to see that, sugar." His whispers fill your head while he has you resting your head on his chest hours later, a few giggles coming from outside your bedroom door. Guess who?

"You know I won't let nobody disrespect you like that. You aren't mad, are you baby?" Beckman is a real sweet talker, so it's not like you could be even if you tried.

Plus, he looks super hot fighting.

END.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated! ❤️If possible, leave a comment too!

[moon-ttokki-x]

hellooo, can i request a felix x fem!dating!reader where felix finds a used pregnancy test in the trash can, and freaks because it said positive and thought it was the readers? turns out its not, it was her friends, but he was super stressed and sad the he wasn’t told that ‘he was going to have a child’?(around comeback since that kinda fits in)

this was so cute :( writing sad felix almost broke my heart fr but we pushed through . . . here you goooo~

floral tea - lee felix x reader

pairing: lee felix reader

summary: when felix finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom bin, a few misunderstandings follow...

genre: sad confused felix, non-idol!au, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, piss (i promise it's one word lol i'm not sus like that), mentions of injury, blood, lots of tears from felix aww :(

a/n: divider by @g0ds-f4v-svp3rn0v4

skz masterlist

"Y/n, hey!"

You let out an excited squeal as you open the door, embracing Jiseo. It's been so long since you saw her; the last time you did, she was busy travelling for her career.

Her familiar warmth surrounds you like a fluffy blanket as you hug, and her sweet perfume lingers lightly in the summer air. No greater is the joy of meeting an old friend, and that too, completely on an unexpected whim.

"Come in," you say almost shakily from joy, cheeks flushed from the surprise.

She laughs and steps in. You switch on the kettle and sit down to talk with her as steam fills the kitchen. You sit and talk for what feels like hours, reminiscing and gossiping about almost everything. It's so good to see her again, and as a surprise, too...

You're just about to gratefully verbalize this to her when she places a hand over yours, leaning in a little.

"By the way, um, I kinda have something to tell you," she says, a little nervously, but still smiling.

You grin. "What is it?"

Jiseo laughs, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind it. "I, um- Y/n, I think I might be pregnant."

You spit out a mouthful of tea, spluttering ungracefully and splashing the table in floral essence. "What?!"

She nods, unfazed by your rather disgusting reaction. "Yeah, it- kinda just happened, you know?"

You lean forward, almost knocking over your mug, eyes so wide you're sure you look like an owl. "Do you know for sure?"

She shakes her head a little bashfully. "I don't really know... I just came here to you, because if I was going to find out, I wanted you to be with me... s-something like that anyway..."

You can't help the warm bubble that sits in your chest; Jiseo has always been so direct yet so shy at the same time. Her sentiment makes your cheeks tinge with colour as you squeeze her hand. She's probably terrified, poor thing.

"I have pregnancy tests upstairs, if you want to use one," you say, smiling gently. Her hands are clammy.

She exhales shakily. "W-would that be okay? Like, not an invasion of privacy, or-"

"Jiseo," you interrupt, chuckling. "It's okay. I promise, whether it's positive or not, I'll always be here for you. Now, go piss on that stick."

She laughs and gets up.

.

You carefully brew another cup of tea as a smile ghosts the corners of your mouth. Inhaling the scent of your second cup of goodness, you sit down in your previous spot and let your fingers skate over the smooth wooden table.

You can't believe Jiseo is pregnant. You couldn't be happier for her.

She left around an hour ago, after around two hours of excited screaming, cheering, and tears from the both of you. She had been terrified, but you spent so long reassuring her, and she'd gone home after disposing of the pregnancy test, in order to catch her breath before her lover came home. You wonder how they would react; they're a good person, and you hope that Jiseo feels supported and cared for throughout the whole process. You have no doubt that her and her partner are probably jumping for joy in the comfort of their own little home right now, and it makes you smile further.

You can faintly hear Felix coming through the front door now; there's the familiar, faint thuds as he kicks off his shoes and puts them to the side.

He comes into the kitchen, sunlight spilling across his frame, and you tilt your head to kiss him as he leans down to you in your chair.

"Hey, sunshine," he murmurs, stroking your hair.

"Hi. How was your day, hmm?"

He sighs and tugs off his tie. "Yeah, busy. Not too bad, though. I'm gonna get changed and then we can make dinner together?"

You nod and smile.

There's a brief moment of silence as Felix shuffles upstairs, his footsteps receding as he shuts the bathroom door. You sit and stare placidly out the window, absentmindedly sipping the cooling tea and absorbing the fading warmth of the mug.

All is quiet.

That is, until a blonde-haired tornado falls down the stairs and stumbles over to you, shirt askew and hair ruffled. You jump with a start and turn to him, about to ask what the matter is, but you're caught up short when you notice the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Love," he gasps, a borderline sob almost escaping. "What is this?"

He holds up a short, white stick and you squint, realising what it is.

Jiseo's pregnancy test.

She must have thrown it away afterwards in the bathroom bin.

You get up, holding out your hands, trying to calm Felix down and explain. "Sunshine, I-"

"No," he gasps. "No, you knew and you didn't tell me? You just threw the fucking test away- love, are you serious? Why would you do this? You didn't even think to call me when you found out you were gonna have a child? Our child?"

"Felix-"

The tears actually spill out of his eyes then, and a guilty look sets itself uncomfortably across his face. "But I swear, we were so careful- How could this happen, I didn't even know because you didn't even think to tell me you were going to eventually fucking give birth-"

"Felix!" You cry. "It's not mine, okay? Calm down."

He stops short, stuttering, tears still streaming down his cheeks in shock and distress. "What?"

You almost laugh, but then remember it might upset him further. He's still confused, after all, and he splutters further.

"W-what do you mean, it's not yours? Do you realise how bad that sounds? Wait, do you mean that the child isn't yours, or the test-"

"For goodness' sake, Felix, the test isn't mine," you say, exasperated as you tug him into a chair with some difficulty. His shirt slips off his collarbone, revealing the freckled, sun-kissed skin underneath. "One of my old friends showed up earlier and she took the test, because she had a hunch she might be pregnant. She must have thrown it away before leaving.."

He's silent for a moment, processing, and then he bursts into tears, upon which you just stare at him, utterly confused. Taking him into a hug, you let him rest his head against your stomach.

It's almost like he just got the news that he's pregnant, you think wryly. This is exactly how Jiseo reacted.

"Lix, honey," you say, a little softer. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," his muffled voice comes from your stomach. You can faintly feel tears soaking the fabric of your top. "I was so stressed, I thought we were gonna have a child, and around comeback season too, I was so scared trying to figure out how we were gonna manage it all-"

You shush and coo at him gently, stroking his ruffled hair, askew in all directions. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He shakes his head, his voice sounding faraway from where he's plowed his face into your middle. "I was worried for you too..."

You fight the warm feeling rising in your chest at his sincerity. He's never afraid to tell you how he feels, your Felix. You do feel bad for not realising Jiseo threw her test away and resultingly scaring the shit out of your lover, but you're glad that he cares enough to be upset about it.

Even if he was wrong.

You let your gaze wander down to where his hair is mussed against your shirt, and you can't help but notice the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around your waist, like he's afraid you'll float away if he lets go. You notice a small gash on his arm, the crimson startling against his pale, freckled skin.

You hum as he lifts his face, tear-streaked and swollen. "What'd you do to your arm?"

He sniffs. "I hit it on the doorway when I came down the stairs... I didn't even feel it."

You sigh, stroking the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck. "What am I gonna do with you, hmm?"

"Love me."

You chuckle. "Let's get you patched up."

a/n: listening to zero o'clock by bts while writing this and why does it fit so well . . . ttokki is sad now

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Lonely Birthday - Rafayel

Rafayel x reader

a/n: me when i have way too many ideas and end up pushing the other ones to the back burner. this is rafayel's part to the lonely birthday series i was doing, first part is xavier's! will also be including caleb too since when i first wrote xavier's it was pre-caleb.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

Tags: angst, happy ending, female pronouns, reader is not MC, female pronouns, cursing, use of pet names (baby)

word count: 3.3k

masterlist

Xavier Zayne Sylus Caleb

Rafayel

You and Rafayel had been dating for a year but had been friends for well over 3 years.

He was the one to ask you out and it was simply perfect, he had set up his house for a cute little romantic evening where you two had a candlelit dinner with your favourite dish, night painting on the beach, and then ended it off with watching the sun rise before heading back inside to sleep.

Rafayel had always managed to make you feel so loved and appreciated.

So where did it go wrong?

You loved celebrating birthdays, whether it was yours or someone else's. It was a day worth celebrating, a day meant just for you.

You always gave more than you received, but it never mattered because seeing the joy on other people's faces was more than enough for you.

Then Rafayel came along and showed you what it meant to also be on the receiving end, to be important to someone and not just be the floater friend.

He taught you self worth, but more importantly he taught you how wonderful it was to be someone's priority.

But then she walked into his life.

You were never the jealous type, always respectful of the friendships that Rafayel had outside of your relationship, but something in you had settled the seeds of doubt, and a woman's intuition was never wrong.

●・○・●・○・●・

You and Rafayel had been planning this birthday date for a couple of months now. You both planned to go to the aquarium for a lunch surrounded by the cute sea creatures, after that you had tickets booked to watch the latest instalment of your favourite movie series followed by a light dinner at home and a surprise that Rafayel had planned, one that he would refuse to tell you no matter how much you probed.

Unfortunately, the weeks leading up to your birthday were nothing but anxiety filled. Lately, Rafayel has been hanging out with his new bodyguard more often than you'd like to acknowledge.

You were never one to police who he can and can't hang out with, but there was just something about her and the way he acted around her that had you feeling insecure, but you'd rather not admit that out loud.

Every time you guys spent time together it was always 'Miss Bodyguard this' or 'Miss Bodyguard that,' it got to a point where you had to subtly point it out as to not come off as a jealous or controlling girlfriend.

And it worked, for a day.

You had called Rafayel the day before your birthday to confirm that your plans were still happening.

"Yeah, yeah don't worry cutie. I'll be there."

You felt a bit of relief when he said yes, but it didn't last too long.

You felt that ugly feeling of jealousy and doubt creep up on you multiple times throughout the day, you tried your hardest to not let it cloud your mind and ruin your birthday before it even started.

You should've just listened to that gut feeling.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was the morning of your birthday, you had woken up feeling less than refreshed. You had been tossing and turning all night, the feeling of unease never leaving as the time kept passing by.

You checked your phone and spotted quite a few birthday messages from your friends, but you didn't see one from Rafayel.

You knew he spent most of his nights awake, and he would never miss the chance to be the first one to wish you at midnight.

You pushed down that feeling of disappointment and decided to start your day with a little pick-me-up treat. Since you were planning on visiting your favourite café, you decided to dress up— that way you would be ready for your lunch date as well.

You spent a few hours at the café, taking cute pictures of yourself and the goodies that you bought. Soon it was time to head over the aquarium. You trusted Rafayel when he said he would be there, he never really gave you a reason not to.

Getting to the aquarium, you settled on a bench nearby the entrance waiting for Rafayel to show up. An hour passed by and it was nearing the time for your lunch reservation. You gave him a quick ring only for it to go straight to voicemail, trying a few more times only to get the same result.

You assumed his phone had died and hoped he was on his way. You decided it was better for you to wait inside at the table, that way your reservation wouldn't be cancelled.

The setting was beautiful, there was only a limited amount of tables all under a dome of glass where the marine life swam above you. Colours of blue made the whole thing feel so scenic and calm.

Sitting at your table you snapped a few pics of your surroundings and decided to order some appetizers, that way by the time they came Rafayel would already be here.

You waited, and waited— and then waited some more, but two hours had passed and Rafayel didn't show up.

You were worried, and just as you were ready to call him again for the umpteenth time, your eye spotted a moments notification from her.

You don't know what compelled you to open it, but you did. You could almost hear the sound of your heart shattering.

There, on her moments post, was Rafayel with his arms wrapped around her waist and a beautiful necklace that glimmered like light reflecting on a waters surface sitting delicately around her neck. It was captioned, 'When your cute boss surprises you with a beautiful gift and planned a whole day of fun for your birthday!'

It was insane how her birthday just happened to be the same day as yours.

Before you even realized it, you were crying. You quickly gathered yourself together and settled the bill, not missing the way everyone who looked at you had pity in their eyes.

Rushing out of the aquarium you beelined it home, not wanting to be around anyone.

When you finally reached the confines of your home you let it all out, collapsing near the door you sobbed until your voice was hoarse and there were no more tears left to cry.

Forcing yourself off the floor, you decided to take a hot shower and change into something more comfortable.

Your shower ended up being longer than you expected it to be, round 2 of yours tears started and you sat with your knees against your chest as the hot water fell from above.

You didn't notice how much time had passed while you were in the shower. The only thing that did get you out was the fact that you had used up all the hot water and that your fingertips were pruny.

You didn't even bother to dry your hair, just wanting to curl up in bed as soon as possible, praying for the day to be over.

It was hard keeping yourself from crying when every little thing reminded you of him. Hell your whole room was filled with all sorts of trinkets and memories of him.

It wasn't about the birthday, but about the fact that you guys had planned a whole day of just you two together, no distractions. You even had Thomas sign an agreement to not bother you guys today!

'Clearly that was all for nothing.'

You scoffed and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, the warmth bringing you a tiny bit of comfort.

God knows how long you spent in that one position, zoning in and out or reality, your mind and heart still refusing to grasp the situation but your body reacting with a never ending stream of silent tears.

You know what the insane part was? It wasn't the fact that Rafayel was out spending time with her, but rather the fact that you didn't even receive a single call or text from him. Just radio silence.

It's like anything having to do with you was just wiped from his memory.

As time passed on, you noticed your body crying out in hunger but you didn't have the strength to get up.

A part of you thought that you were being too dramatic, but the teenage girl in you felt like she was in high school again, when you were just the floater friend when the friends they wanted to hang out with were busy, when you were always an afterthought and not the first one.

You never thought you'd feel that with Rafayel, he always made you his number one priority. He knew about your insecurities and always assured you that he'd never put you in that position, ever.

"I guess at some point it was bound to happen." You whispered to yourself as tears fell once again. You just wanted to forget about today and sleep, rolling over you grabbed a bottle out of your bedside drawer. You took the sleeping pill and just laid there, waiting for it to kick in.

It didn't take long for the pills to kick in, closing your eyes you let yourself get enveloped by the darkness.

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel

It was late when he got back to his studio, he had this feeling that he was forgetting something but brushed it off.

If it was important I would've remembered it.

Oh how he would soon regret that thought.

He entered his studio expecting to be greeted by his lovely girlfriend, he even got her these desserts that MC loves so much.

"I should charge my phone first, it kept going off so MC took my phone and wouldn't even let me see who was contacting me."

He looked around but didn't see you anywhere. His studio was eerily quiet, Rafayel brushed it off as you having gone to bed considering how late it was.

Making his way to his room, he noticed how the bed looked untouched.

How weird, surely she should have been in bed by now.

He put his phone on charge, cursing it to charge faster.

That's when he saw it all, having been too preoccupied this morning with MC he missed out on his reminder.

Y/N's b-day! Don't forget your lunch reservation at the Linkon Aquarium! And absolutely do not let Thomas bother you about exhibitions!!!

It felt like cold water had been dumped on him as he read the reminder he wrote a few weeks back.

"I screwed up, fuck."

Rafayel started to freak out, his mind running a mile a minute. He quickly grabbed his phone and keys before bolting out of the house to your place.

Normally, you stay at his place more than yours since you guys had very limited quality time and being at his place made it easier to at least spend some time together. Although occasionally you did go home from time to time.

He beelined it to your place, praying you would forgive him. Although he wouldn't blame you if you didn't.

Hell if he was in your position he probably wouldn't forgive himself either! Instead of spending your birthday with you, he was out with another woman spending time with her for her birthday without even so much as a word from him.

As he reached your place he rushed up the stairs to your floor, the elevator taking too long to come. His hands were shaking so much that he struggled to put in your passcode.

After finally typing in the right code Rafayel rushed in, messily throwing off his shoes. He frantically looked around your apartment for you, not seeing you in the living room or kitchen he sped to your room.

The sight in front of him broke him beyond words.

Even in the dark he could see your eyes were puffy, probably from crying so much, there were tears that still stained your cheeks.

He carefully walked towards the edge of the bed, kneeling down so he was next to your head. Rafayel carefully wiped your cheeks, drying them of the tears you shed because of his stupidity.

"I'm so sorry, I know an apology won't fix the hurt I've caused you. Today was supposed to be your special day but I messed it all up."

Rafayel whispered as he gently stroked your cheeks. He stayed in that position until he eventually fell asleep, afraid that if he let go you would disappear.

●・○・●・○・●・

The next morning you awoke to the feeling of someone's hands on your face.

Knowing you went to bed alone, you quickly shot up in a state of panic, grabbing the nearest object to defend yourself.

It took your eyes a moment to adjust before you noticed the concerned eyes staring back at you.

Rafayel moved to get closer to you but you held a hand up, stopping him in his tracks.

"Don't you dare come near me. Get out right now!"

You were never one to raise your voice, but the feelings from yesterday were still fresh.

Rafayel looked shocked that you would raise your voice, but he still persisted. Not wanting to let you be alone anymore than he already made you.

He grabbed your hands but you yanked them right out, you really didn't want to do this so early in the morning.

"Please just let me explain."

Rafayel begged, he could feel your emotions radiating off of you in waves. It hurt him to know he was the one who did this to you, but he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to make it better.

"There's nothing to explain Rafayel. I know who you were with, clearly she is more important than your own fucking girlfriend!"

You felt appalled by his audacity to even try to give you an excuse, there was nothing he could say or do that could bring back yesterday. He made his choice, and it wasn't you.

A small part of you felt like you were overreacting, but a larger part of you validated your feelings.

Yes it was the first time he did something like this, but that doesn't mean you should bend over backwards and forgive him just because he said sorry.

You got up and grabbed his arm, knowing how persistent he is you know he wouldn't leave your apartment, at the very least you can kick him out your room.

Pushing him out the room, you slammed and locked the door before he even had time to process what was happening.

Everything you were holding in came bursting out like a flood. You didn't care if Rafayel was on the other side of the door, the hurt you felt yesterday came back ten fold when you saw his face.

On the other side, Rafayel had his forehead against the door. The pain in your cries made it feel like he was being stabbed over and over again.

He knew if he went in there he would just make things worse for himself, but he couldn't just stand there and listen to your broken sobs.

He picked the lock and gently opened the door, unsure of how close you were to the door, and because he didn't want to risk adding physical pain to the emotional pain you were already going through.

Letting himself in he found you on the floor at the end of your bed, he made his way over and scooped you in his arms before settling down on your bed with you in his lap.

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you tried to push yourself off of him, his hold was tight but not restricting.

You beat his chest with your fists muttering curses at him through your tears. Rafayel just sat there and let you have your way, hoping it brought you some comfort.

When your hits became weaker he shifted to pull you closer to his chest, your forehead now on his shoulders as you sobbed messily. Rafayel rubbed your back soothingly, trying to get you to calm down a bit.

You started to relax a bit in his warm embrace, but you were still on edge.

"Do you want to talk to me now baby?"

He spoke softly, the pain of seeing you in this condition leaking into his voice.

"You left me, and for another woman at that?"

You said after a few moments of silence.

"How could you forget about me? Do I mean that little to you now that you have Miss Bodyguard?"

You looked up at him, the tears streaming down your face. He reached up to wipe them away but you turned your face before he could and wiped them yourself.

He retracted his hands and placed them back on your waist, rubbing circles on them.

"No baby, you mean the world to me. I know it's not an excuse but it's my judgement gets cloudy when I'm around her."

You gave him a look that was a mix between 'what the fuck' and 'your words are not helping your case here.'

As bad as the timing was he let out a little chuckle.

"It's not something I can explain in simple words, but if you give me the chance I'll tell you everything without missing a single detail."

●・○・●・○・●・

Rafayel took the time to thoroughly explain everything to you regarding his past and MC. He constantly stressed multiple times that you were the one he chose and this life and would continue to choose in every other life after this.

You deliberated over his words, it was all a lot to take in, but it definitely helped you understand the situation more.

Not that it forgives him for leaving you alone, on your birthday no less.

“Wait, did you get her a birthday present too?”

You questioned, just now remembering the necklace from the photo.

Rafayel looked at you confused.

“I didn’t even know it was her birthday, why would I give her a birthday present?”

You narrowed your eyes at him in suspicion. Leaning over you grabbed your phone and pulled up the photo, making sure he got a good look at the caption too.

Rafayel snatched your phone the moment he saw it, looking at it with confusion with a hint of anger.

“Baby I promise on the seas I never did any of that! She’s the one who had planned everything and she was already wearing that necklace when I saw her.”

Rafayel explained. You were confused as to why she would go this far to post a lie, it didn’t sit right with you.

“Don’t worry I’ll make sure to no longer have her as my bodyguard, I won’t ever contact her.”

Rafayel said as he took a whole of your face.

"I don't want you to feel like I'm controlling who you employ or interact wi—"

"Absolutely not."

Rafayel cut you off.

"I would never feel that way, ever. This post though, it's really weird and I don't want this type of energy around us. I cherish you too much for that."

He spoke with a tone that was meant to assure me, that something like this will never happen again.

You nod and rest your head against his shoulder again, feeling more drained than yesterday.

"You're still not forgiven for yesterday, you have to make it up to me."

You said with a big yawn, feeling your eyes get heavier.

Rafayel chuckles before laying down with you snuggled on top of him.

"I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that's how long it takes for you to forgive me."

He kisses the top of your head and then pulls the covers around you both.

"Now sleep, I'll be right here when you wake up."

He wrapped an arm around your waist, while his other hand rubbed your back soothingly.

Letting out a hum, you relaxed further into his hold, letting sleep envelop you.

[kittyminion]

a tight fit modern!sevika x f!reader

-suggestive lang., fluff, established relationship, modern au -sevika is the perfect seeker when the two of you play hide-n-seek, but what happens when your squeeze yourself into a tight hiding place?

Playing hide-n-seek with Sevika is like staring in a horror movie. Sevika insists that all the lights in the apartment are turned off, including the miniscule candles you have littered around.

You close your cat into the main bedroom, push some of the furniture against the walls, and agree on the main rules with Sevika.

"No screaming." You rolled your eyes at her, scoffing, "you scared the shit out of me last time." Sevika chuckled, "I'm not even scary."

Your mouth fell open in mock surprise, "you are terrifying! You're over six feet tall and your built like a large metal man." You mushed her shoulder, tapping your foot nervously, but truth be told you were excited. You couldn't deny the pleasureable adrenline that rushed through your body at the thought of Sevika stalking you throughout the apartment, calling your name with a sinister tone so gutwrenching that you anticipated her finding you.

"No tickling." You replied soon after and Sevika groaned playfully, "where's the fun in that?" "It's literally torture, 'Vika."

"Fine. Anything else?" You shook your head with a smug look on your face, "nope. But, I doubt you'll find me." "Gotta new hiding spot or something." You feigned zipping your mouth shut and Sevika threw her head back with a hearty laugh, "I'll give you an entire minute to hide."

"Suit yourself." Sevika closed herself inside the main bedroom while you immediatly took off running towards the spare bathroom. It was towards the entrance of the apartment and housed the cats litter box and unimportant items neither you nor Sevika cared to look at everyday.

Pulling open the cabinet under the sink, you struggled to stuff yourself under there, neck bending so your head could fit. You pushed cleaning supplies out of the way and pulled your knees up to your chest, letting out a loud, tired huff after you finally pulled the cabinet shut behind you.

It was hot and a little stinky under the sink, but Sevika surely wasn't expecting you to climb under there, so you couldn't deny the hint of pride you felt.

After a few minutes, she still hadn't found you so you were feeling accomplished, despite the cramps forming in your back, neck and legs. You were sweating bullets too, but you were willing to endure the pain as long as Sevika couldn't find you.

Your heart froze when you heard her heavy footsteps farther away in the apartment. She must've been in the kitchen, but evidently, she knocked something off the counter and it shattered.

"Fuck!" You heard her say, and you chuckled a little at her fustration, only hoping it wasn't your favorite coffee mug.

Wiping your forehead free of sweat, you closed your eyes, honestly wishing she'd found you already, but it'd been close to ten minutes and she hadn't even reached this half of the apartment yet.

You couldn't blame her though. Sevika was very thorough, and you knew she was checking every single inch of the apartment like she usually did when you both played.

But now something was wrong.

You couldn't hear her moving around anymore, which was insane considering you could hear the loud meows of your cat from the bedroom.

"What the hell?" You muttered to yourself, a bit of panic making your heart spike. Where did she go? Perhaps she hurt herself on the glass and was loosing too much blood, or she was tired of playing Hide-N-Seek and had just given up.

Or what if your cat had gotten hurt and she was attempting to comfort him?

Before you could even climb out of the cabinet, the light in the bathroom switched on.

You tried your best to not scream in surprise as Sevika moved around the bathroom, checking in the bathtub and even in the hamper behind the door. You could see her shadow as she moved around, you could even smell her scent and hear her light breathing.

"Where are you?" She whispered rhetorically to herself, pausing in front of the sink and tapping her fingers against it absentmindedly.

Your heart was beating a million miles per second as she stood there. Did she even know you were there, or was she seriously clueless?

You knew that Sevika had insane attention to detail, so insane that it shocked you, but you couldn't fathom her being not able to find you as quick as she usually did.

Her quickest time was only a few seconds, but now she was at least up to twenty minutes.

But then you heard her laugh. A quick little shocking laugh that made you jump. Then she was kneeling down, and staring right between the crack of the cabinet doors, and right into your eyes.

You could see the humor in her cloudy gray eyes as she reached up and pulled the doors open, mouth screwed in a twisted smile. "You dumbass, how the hell did you even get under there?"

She grabbed onto your hands and gently tugged you from under the sink, shoulders shaking with tiny laughs. "Don't laugh, Sevike!" You slapped her arm playfully, wiping sweat from your face and moving your neck around to remove the uncomfortable cramp in it.

She placed her hands on the sink, caging you in, her face angled down towards yours as she looked at you, "you did good, I'll admit."

"YES!" You screamed, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt and Sevika grinned, placing her hands on your hips, "how'd you know you could even fit right there?"

You shrugged honestly, chin pressing against her breasts as you looked up at her, "I was cleaning the litterbox the other day and thought it'd be a great hiding place."

Sevika bit her lip, looking up at herself in the mirror, her cheeks blood red and hot to the touch. You pressed a thumb against her lip and smirked, "why're you blushing?"

She didn't answer, but instead stared down at you, a quick glance to your lips before she kissed you deep and long, "let's see what other positions I can get you in."

[zroronoas]

roommate!zoro

hi guys i love zoro so much i might actually explode.

-

-zoro is a sleepy guy, so he loves taking naps on the couch. like all the time. you rarely get to sit on it, since his entire body is always occupying the seats. the living room is basically his bedroom, with him preferring to sleep there over his actual one. you've sat on him once, somehow not noticing the lump that was snoring away underneath the blanket.

"zoro, do you not like your bed?"

the question makes the man raise an eyebrow, what kind of question was that? what kind of person doesn't like their own bed?

"of course i do, do you?"

"do i like your bed? i've never been on it."

now you're both confused, but the man opts to just close his eyes again. you pull your lips into a tight line, deciding to focus your attention back to your book. conversations between the two of you never went well if they went on too long.

-zoro cannot cook. like don't even let him get near the kitchen Please. you don't understand how it happens, he could have a recipe pulled up on his phone and he still somehow messes it up. the smoke detector is going off, your pots and pans are burnt, and zoro is yelling at his ruined dish.

"it's not my fault! it's the stupid ass ingredients and recipe!"

you roll your eyes as you frantically try to fan away all the smoke. "how could it be the ingredients and recipe? you just can't read!"

"oh now you're being ungrateful, this dish was for us!"

"zoro, do me the biggest favor and never cook anything ever again. i'll cook for us."

-friday movie nights with lots of alcohol. thankfully you can both hold your alcohol pretty well, so drinking with zoro was always a chill time. your only issue was that you tended to be a little more affectionate when drunk, but zoro was usually passed out once you got to that point.

"cheers!" you grin while bumping your tiny shot glass to zoro's full cup of beer. he scoffs, but there's a small smile on his face when he watches you take the shot and immediately grimace.

"do we have to cheers every time we take a shot? we've done this about eight times now."

"zoro," you look at him pointedly. "you're really such a buzzkill! of course we have to cheers every time!"

zoro notices the way your cheeks start to turn pink and how you slowly start moving closer to him on the couch. he always tries not to think anything of it, but he can't help but think that you're a little bit cute when you're drunk. just a little though.

and that's usually his cue to put his hands behind his head and close his eyes, so that he doesn't have to deal with his heart pounding against his chest when you act like that.

"already, zoro?" you whine. "you always fall asleep so fast!"

-he walks around shirtless all the time. sometimes he'll even sport the shirtless and gray sweatpant combo. it's actually a pain in the ass because he's so hot. and you have a staring problem. the worst thing about it is that zoro is fully aware that you ogle him, but he secretly loves it.

"zoro, please put a shirt on! you shouldn't walk around like that in front of me." you grumble, but the way you can't bring yourself to look at him, gives your true feelings away.

and since you're not looking at him, you don't see the smirk that forms on his face when he sees how much it affects you.

"go back into your room if you hate it so much."

"hey! i live here too, i should be able to walk into the kitchen without you being half naked!"

-does not lock the door when he uses the bathroom. the amount of times you've accidentally walked in on him showering or using the toilet is actually criminal. and when you yell at him to start locking the door, he blames you instead.

"maybe you should knock, the door is closed isn't it?" he rolls his eyes as he towel dries his hair.

"you should still lock it! sometimes i forget to knock."

"what's the big deal anyways? you've seen me naked multiple times now."

-he's actually super sweet and the best roommate. whenever you're tired from work, he always makes sure to make things a little easier for you. if that means ordering takeout so you don't have to cook, he'll do it. he'll tidy up around the apartment, because he knows it bothers you coming home to a messy house. and if you don't drive, he'd drop you off and pick you up from work. the only con to that was he always got lost on the way, but it was just something you had to get used to. and you'd gladly wait as long as you had for him.

[howlingday]

Pyrrha Nikos is a wet cat

PA: Pyrrha Nikos wins another match~!

Nora: Yeah, no duh! Have you SEEN her?! She's got thunder thighs to rival mine!

Ren: No.

Nora: What?! It's true!

Ren: It's still not appropriate to shout that.

Nora: So you agree?

Yang: I definitely do! I used to be the big fish back at Signal, but Pyrrha is a friggin' shark!

Ruby: She is? I thought she was human.

Weiss: She's not just human. She's the perfect human! You'd be hard-pressed to find anyone to match her level.

Blake: I don't believe there's such a thing as a "perfect" anything, but Pyrrha is definitely the best in our year.

Nora: See, Renny? They all agree with me!

Ren: Not everyone, I think.

---------------------------------------------------

Pyrrha: (Sighs)

Jaune: Good match out there.

Pyrrha: I got sloppy.

Jaune: It's fine. Like you always say, it's just practice for now.

Pyrrha: Thank you, but that's not all I say. When the practice stops-

Jaune: Reality starts. I remember. Towel?

Pyrrha: (Takes, Wipes)

Jaune: Everybody's talking about you out there. I don't think anyone noticed you being "sloppy".

Pyrrha: Did you?

Jaune: I mean... You did get kinda pull your punch a bit.

Pyrrha: Not intentionally. (Sighs) One day, I'm not going to win.

Jaune: Yeah, but... (Takes towel, Smiles) Whenever it happens, I'll pick help you back to your feet.

Pyrrha: Because you think I'll need help?

Jaune: No. Because I know it's what you would do for me.

Pyrrha: I... think I'll hit the showers. Thank you for the pep talk, Jaune.

Jaune: Anything for you, Pyrrha. We're partners, and that means we're always there for each other. (Tosses towel in bin) See you out there, Partner. (Exits)

Pyrrha: ...

Pyrrha: (Big, wet eyes, Sniffling)

[transmutationisms]

Hey. So that claim that stimulants do completely different things for people who “have ADHD” and “don’t have ADHD” is obviously bullshit but I was wondering if you happen to have read anything I could refer to about that

Okay I want to try using this to break down how I would actually approach this type of question, inspired by some posts I've seen recently about how to read and analyse things that are wrong / bad / liberal.

I don't have, off the top of my head, a published & refereed source that discusses this particular claim. I'm pretty certain there is at least one such thing out there. But I'm also pretty confident it won't be very good. The claim it's responding to is relatively historically recent, & is cloaked in still-fashionable neurobiological terms. Also, the literature on ADHD is bad in general, and so is the general quality of the kinds of imaging studies that are cited to support such claims about 'brain differences.'

If I were writing a literature review or a historiography, here is the part where I would need to go find these things anyway. Then I would have to explain how they make their arguments and what's missing, and depending on the scope of the piece I might have to explain my own philosophical / political position, and advance my methodological critique of the literature I just spent several days finding & reading.

Fortunately I'm writing a tumblr post & my sense is your actual question is "how can I better argue against this obviously bullshit claim," so I don't have to do any of that. There's not really much point sinking that kind of time and effort into finding a source I already think is unlikely to adequately make the argument I'm looking for anyway.

Instead, I would now look at the claim itself. What must be true in order for it to hold?

ADHD brains differ from non-ADHD brains

This difference is relevant to the action/metabolism of stimulant drugs

Okay, claim two on that list requires dealing with psychopharmacology & very exact physiological mechanisms, which means a shitload more reading and most of it punishingly dry and technical. Sad & bad.

Fortunately, though, I already know -- from every reading ever, as well as my experience existing on earth -- that ADHD is not diagnosed by any sort of brain scan, anatomical observation, blood test, etc, but by subjective (yes, even if they made you do it on a computer) clinical observation. Hmm, that's super weird for something that is a 'brain difference.'

I also know that psychiatric categories are difficult to correlate with biological observations even where those observations do exist, because an imaging study on ADHD is necessarily only pulling the 'ADHD sample' from people already diagnosed with ADHD. It's circular. Philosophically this is the same problem I laid out in section one of 'What is an alien?' (which you can read & understand even if the main topic of the essay doesn't interest you).

And I also know that brain imaging studies generally are riddled with serious methodological flaws (post discusses the dead salmon study among others) and don't actually produce meaningful, replicable biological distinctions in any kind of correlation with psychiatric categories (also, variation within categories is also very high).

Oh, wait. Now the claim above looks like patent nonsense with zero philosophical foundations. The burden of proof is on whoever's making that claim, & the basic underlying principles are wrong. Yayyyy.

This exercise means 1) I've sat down and reasoned through my own opinion, giving me clarity on why I think what I do and what evidence would change my mind and 2) from now on, when I see someone else make the claim I'm responding to here, I'll know off the bat that they haven't done the same & are starting from a very credulous attitude toward very low-quality research. And I didn't do this by trawling the literature until I found the exact thing I was looking for, but by thinking through the arguments and evaluating a body of literature that is generally explicitly hostile to the kinds of critiques I make & respect.

[callmeizukunotdeku]

Okay, but can you imagine a world where Jason comes back and decides proper punishment is an eye for an eye?

Bruce may not be perfect but boy does he know how to torture himself.

Bruce might not have killed the Joker, but he went off the fucking rails after Jason died.

If Jason came back--if he told Bruce that his sweet little boy was back? There's no world in which Bruce wouldn't welcome him back with open arms.

So he plans it: he'll show Bruce he's alive, cry a bit over Tim as Robin, and make Bruce send the kid packing. Then, he'll push. He'll tell Bruce how unsafe he feels knowing the Joker is still alive. How that man needs to be delt with in the same way Jason was delt with.

He'll push Bruce closer and closer to his breaking point and then, to freshen the grief, he'll kill Tim.

Do it as the Red Hood.

Remind Bruce what happens when he puts people in the suit.

Imagine that's his plan.

Then, imagine how surprised he'll be when he announces his revival and Tim gets him somewhere private.

"You know, Placeholder, I don't really like you that much. Forgive me for not wanting to talk to anyone who's not family right now, but--"

"No," Tim interrupts, "no, I know. And I'll make it quick." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what you must have gone through to die and come back and see someone else in your suit like that. If I knew you'd be back, I'd have found another way to hold him back. I just...wanted to give a formal apology before going home. I know that nothing I do could ever rectify what my taking your place must have felt like to you, and I'm sorry for that, but if you ever need anything, I'll be right next door."

Jason furrowed his brow. He was planning on waiting a couple days to plant the idea of Tim leaving in Bruce's head. He didn't anticipate Tim cornering him the first day he was back. "What?"

"I mean, I know I don't really have anything unique to offer, but the offer still stands." He watched Jason for a moment, hoping, most likely, for some reaction of 'no, please, stay in my suit, in my house, where you don't belong' or 'i don't entirely hate your guts'. Tim looked away. "Um, right, so--I'm going to leave while it's still light outside. It's--I'm glad I got to talk to you," Tim said, with something nauseatingly genuine in his eyes, "goodbye."

Good manners be damned, Jason didn't say 'goodbye' back. He let Tim leave without a word.

He expected Bruce to comment on it, but he didn't even bat an eye, just kept staring at Jason like he was something precious.

After it goes on for long enough, Jason finally asks, "You good, B?"

And all he can say is, "You're home."

And he is.

Bruce announces him as alive again on the grounds that it's Gotham and weirder things have happened. Since he's seventeen, he gets to go back to school.

Since Tim is fifteen, he's there too.

"Placeholder," Jason calls him, whenever he sees him--tries to torture him with the word.

And Tim looks at him sadly, "I'm sorry."

Every fucking time.

Tim doesn't even try to justify it or anything. Just apologizes. Agrees that he is a placeholder and apologizes for it.

And it pisses him off, but Jason doesn't lay a hand on him.

Not yet.

He keeps hinting to Bruce.

I'm not safe with the Joker alive.

I can't stay in Gotham if the Joker's alive.

I'll leave you if the Joker's alive.

I'll make sure everyone will.

And he does.

It's laughably easy to make his way into Drake Manor.

Tim seems surprised to see the Red Hood.

He's less surprised when he learns it's Jason.

Jason beats him into the fucking floor and the kid whimpers and wines, but doesn't call for his mommy or daddy.

Jason leaves happy.

He's still happy the next day when he doesn't see Tim in the halls. The boy's absence is expected, even if the lack of news about his placeholder being found beaten and bloody is, for lack of a better word, disappointing.

It's a full week later when Jason is scrolling through news articles and the whole world stops around him.

The Drakes Set to Return to Gotham after Seven Months in Iran

His brain lets him process the smaller realization first.

How he came back six months ago and how Tim has been alone for half a year and his only familiar face was Jason in the halls.

Placeholder.

I'm sorry.

And then, he pukes.

Because Jason beat Tim halfway to hell, but, as long as someone was there to see him in the morning, call an ambulance and make sure he'd get help, Tim would have been fine.

A week, Jason thinks, and then he's running to Drake Manor. It's all too easy to break in, again. To find Tim, again.

Laying where Jason left him.

Jason swallows before kneeling next to Tim.

He moves Tim's hair out of his face and--

And he's still warm.

A quick check confirms that, yes, yes, there's a pulse, and then everything happens in flashes.

Call 911.

Get in the ambulance.

Sit in the hospital waiting room until Bruce bursts in.

"I was worried sick," Bruce says, "what happened?"

"Tim was attacked," he says, quietly.

Bruce nods, "And you? How are you doing?"

"I'm fine." I attacked him.

"How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Guilty.

Bruce waits over him until the nurse finally reports that Tim's out of his first round of surgery and is, for the most part, stable.

Jason asks to see Tim and is denied.

"Only family can visit," the nurse says, and Jason looks to Bruce.

In Bruce's ear, he whispers, "Tim was under your guardianship while he war Robin, right? Can you get us in?"

"I can't," Bruce says, "He's not mine. He never was. Tim has always lived with his parents."

Listen... "Placeholder" is a way more fucking tragic nickname/title than "Replacement," and thus this is the name Jason should use for Tim if ya want to max out the angst.

Because there is value in being a replacement. They aren't the original, but a replacement has their own identity. They could be better or a newer model or simply different. There's no expectation for the replacement to be traded back either (though a replacement might get traded for the next replacement). A replacement is compared to the original but they are also accepted as their own identity.

A placeholder, on the other hand, "occupies the position/place of another person." That place isn't theirs. That place is temporary. There's no value to their own existence/identity, and they don't bring anything new to the table as they are. They are a stand-in for something else. They aren't wanted or desired as they are but rather for who they are standing in for.

"Placeholder" is certainly worse :)

[organic-bloodbath]

Knife Princess – Part 5

Chishiya x Reader

Summary: Chishiya wakes up in the hospital, confused of the sinking feeling inside him when he looks at you.

Warnings: Mention of sexual assault.

A/N: I apologise for the previous part, they'll be okay ♡

Chapters

♤♡♧◇

You were walking with Niragi along the busy Tokyo streets, the sun shining high in the sky.

"What time is he meeting us there?" you asked as Niragi put his phone back into his pocket.

"In an hour," he answered. "Had to stay at work a little late, i guess."

Suddenly, you noticed something bright in the sky. Everyone around you stopped and looked towards the sky, probably having the same thought as you did right now.

"Are those fireworks?" you asked, puzzled.

They didn't look like normal fireworks.

♤♡♧◇

Chishiya was laying on the bed in his hospital gown, tucked under a white blanket, only staring at the wall ahead of him. He had no memory of his own what had happened after the fireworks in the sky, which weren't fireworks at all.

Chishiya looked to his right where a man was laying in his own bed, half of his body covered in bandages.

"So, we both almost died," Chishiya said, glancing back at the other patient. "You feel any different now?"

"I don't know," the man sighed. "I mean, i look a lot worse." He turned his face towards Chishiya now. "What about you?"

"I've been thinking a lot about my life," he admitted. "Choices i had to make. Pretty sure i'm going to start turning my life around. Or something like that."

"You were a piece of shit too, huh?" the man sighed. "You fucked up?"

"I did."

Both fell silent again, falling into their own wordless thoughts.

Chishiya didn't talk about this to the stranger next to him, but he had this weird feeling inside him. He felt somehow... sad? But he didn't know why. He felt like something was missing, like there was a large empty hole inside him which craved to be filled. A piece of him was left somewhere. His heart felt heavy.

He didn't like this feeling, at all – it was suffocating him. The fact that he didn't know the origin of it made it worse.

♤♡♧◇

"Commencing cardiac massage."

"Get the defib ready, now!"

"Right away, doctor!"

"Miss Y/N, can you hear me? Miss Y/N!"

"Clear!"

"Still no pulse!"

"Again! Charge it!"

"Yes, sir! Charge complete!"

"Clear!"

The heart monitor's rapid beeping finally turned into regular beeping.

"We have a pulse!"

"Normal sinus rhythm. Heart rate is holding between 80 and 90."

"She's back. Resume operation."

♤♡♧◇

A doctor stood between the two male patients.

"Where's my sister?" Niragi asked, the tone of his voice more worried compared to him talking to Chishiya earlier.

"Your sister was taken for a surgery," the doctor explained. "For now, her state is stable. She lost a lot of blood, but she should recover."

"Should?" he asked.

"We'll inform you right away when we get updates from her state," the doctor reassured vaguely.

The doctor continued talking with Niragi about things which didn't involve Chishiya at all.

"I think i'll go and walk a little," Chishiya announced, his legs starting to feel a little numb for laying down so long.

Chishiya walked through the corridor with slow steps. He stopped by a room which door was open. Chishiya could directly see a young woman sleeping on the bed, connected to a heart monitor. She looked peaceful.

Chishiya's stomach tightened when he looked at her. He didn't know why but he felt drawn to her. He walked closer to the room, right to the doorstep, but not stepping inside.

The sinking feeling inside Chishiya grew stronger now as he eyed her closer. He had taken couple of steps towards her without even realising it.

"Are you family?" a nurse asked behind him, startling Chishiya.

"Oh, no i don't know her," he denied and took a few steps back not to block the way inside the room.

"Alright." The nurse went inside the room and closed the door behind her.

♤♡♧◇

~ The next day ~

You opened your eyes, slowly trying to comprehend where you were, until you realised you were laying on a hospital bed, attached to a heart monitor.

There was another bed next to yours, a few metres between. It was empty, but someone had been laying on it by the looks of the blanket being thrown aside.

A doctor soon stepped inside.

"Oh, wonderful, you're awake," she smiled, closing the door behind her.

"What happened?" you mumbled, trying to sit up, but the doctor was quick to gently make you lay back down. You felt pain in your abdomen when you were trying to sit up.

"Please, don't get up right now," the doctor said.

You looked at her, confused. One moment you had been outside with Niragi, noticing fireworks in the sky, and the next thing you knew you were resting at a hospital.

The doctor explained shortly about a meteorite hitting Tokyo, ruining a large part of the city. That was the last thing you would have guessed that happened.

"You were taken to a surgery, something had pierced your abdomen quite severely but the doctors managed to fix the damage. Although, your heart had stopped completely for one minute," the doctor explained, serious expression on her face the entire time. "Your shoulder and leg had also taken damage, but they were less severe."

"Oh," you mumbled, not really knowing how to take the news. There were so many new information in too little time.

"But you were incredibly lucky that both of you survived the accident," the doctor smiled.

"Niragi's alright too?" You let out a relieved breath.

"Oh, he will recover as well," the doctor said. "But i was talking about you and your baby."

Your eyebrows furrowed. "Baby? What baby?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" the doctor asked, slightly confused. "You're pregnant, on your first trimester. It's still very early though, so i'm not surprised you weren't aware yet."

Your heart started beating a lot faster now, anxiety and panic taking over your body.

"But, but that can't be possible," you chuckled nervously.

"The doctor confirmed it, and the baby's alright. We'll still do an ultrasound when you've recovered a little better."

You felt like crying. You couldn't be pregnant, you hadn't even slept with anyone.

But then, you realised one thing. You had been with one guy, about a month ago or maybe 5 or 6 weeks, you weren't sure how long ago it was, but you had been hooking up with one guy. Both of you had been extremely drunk and you didn't remember much about it. You remembered making out with him, but that was all. You did wake up in his bed but he insisted that you didn't actually sleep together, both of you being too drunk to make wise decisions.

You felt panic rising inside your body. Had he lied to you? Had you slept with him after all? You remembered being so relieved when he told you that you simply had fallen asleep and had done nothing else than making out.

Right then, an older woman appeared to the room.

"Y/N! Oh my dear, you're alright!" she exclaimed, rushing to your side.

"Mom?" you mumbled. "Aren't you supposed to be in Korea?"

"I was but i flew here yesterday when they called me," she said, sitting down on a chair by your bed, and took your hand in hers. "How are you feeling, sweetie?"

You scoffed. "Fucking fantastic," you mumbled.

You wanted to ask her if any of your friends or family members died or got injured due to the accident but you weren't in the mood for receiving bad news right now. Well, you would never be, but especially not now when you were just getting used to the situation.

You chatted with your mom for a little while, she had apparently already visited Niragi, saying that he would recover. Soon, your mom's phone rang, and she immediately took it in her hand, glancing at you as she stood up.

"I'm sorry, honey, but i have to take this," she said. "I'll be right back."

You needed to visit Niragi and see by yourself that he was alright. You figured you wouldn't be able to properly walk long distances yet and called a doctor to you.

The doctor didn't want you to leave your bed, insisting you to rest, afraid you'd accidentally rip your stitches. You wouldn't give up, so she gave in and pulled a wheelchair for you to use.

You were about to turn around one corner in the corridor, until someone crashed on you. A young man tripped over you, not paying enough attention on his surroundings. For a few seconds he was bent over your lap, until gained his balance back and stood up.

But as he got up, he pressed his hand on your thigh – directly on the wound which still hurt, stitches still sore and healing.

"I'm really sorry," he apologised. "I didn't mean to crash on you like that."

He was young, probably around your age, with blond hair which he now brushed behind his ear.

You took a deep breath and let out a wince, holding your thigh.

"Oh, it's alright," you mumbled but felt your eyes start to water from the pain on your leg.

His eyes widened. "Did i hurt you?"

"Just a little, but don't worry about it," you said, forcing a slight smile on your face.

"I'm sorry, i should look where i'm going," he stuttered.

"It's okay, really," you assured him.

You fell silent for a moment, just looking into each other's eyes.

"Well, i think i must go now," you said awkwardly and started to continue your way.

"I'm sorry, but," Chishiya started, making you stop and turn to look at him. "Have i met you before?"

"Um, i don't think so," you responded. Chishiya eyed you for a moment with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you sure? You look familiar."

"Are you trying to flirt with me?" you asked, narrowing your eyes. "Because if you claim i've been in your dreams that won't work at all."

Chishiya couldn't help but smile a little. "I wasn't trying to flirt with you, don't worry."

When your eyes locked with each other, you felt something funny in your stomach. He did feel familiar to you but you couldn't reach the answer of where you could possibly know this man from. But for some reason, him only looking at you gave your stomach butterflies.

"Hm," you mumbled. "Well. I'm sure i'd remember if we'd met, so you must mistake me for someone else."

"Alright, then. I didn't mean to bother you," he said and turned away to leave.

"Hey, wait," you said to stop him from leaving – for some reason not wanting him to go away just yet. When he turned around again, you didn't know what to say after all. "You do seem familiar."

"Who's flirting now?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

Then, he left, leaving you to look after him for a moment.

♤♡♧◇

You arrived to the room which the doctor had told your brother would be staying in. He was laying there on his back, his body half covered in bandages, half of his face hidden as well. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight a little bit.

"Niragi," you breathed out as you went next to his bed. "Oh god, are you okay?"

"Fucking fantastic," Niragi huffed. "Just lost my chance with half of the women in Tokyo."

"Well, i know many women think scars are kind of hot," you smirked.

Niragi laughed. "You know how to make a guy feel better." He eyed you for a while. "You okay? They told me you were taken in a surgery."

"I'm fine, though covered in several stitches on my stomach. Don't really know if i want to go to the beach anymore wearing bikinis," you said and rolled your eyes.

"You know, some guys think scars are kind of hot too," Niragi grinned.

You fell silent for a moment. Niragi noticed that your mood changed slightly. Normally you would have laughed at his remark.

"What's wrong?" he asked, furrowing his brows.

"Nothing, just this, entire accident, whatever," you shrugged.

"That's all, hm? You sure there's nothing else?" Niragi asked. He knew you better than anyone else, almost as if he had learned to read your mind as the two of you had been growing up.

You and Niragi had always been honest to each other about everything. You knew you could tell him anything and he would tell nobody about it. He had always been your comfort in everything, even though it pissed you off sometimes when he was overprotective of you. Still, it was easy to tell him about things you wouldn't dare to talk about to other people – not even your closest friends. And especially not to your mom.

"Well, the doctor did tell me one thing..." you said quietly and avoided eye contact with him.

"Yeah? What?"

"Well, she kind of told me that... that i'm pregnant," you muttered.

Niragi sat up now, a little too fast by the wince he let out, his body still in a little bit of pain, but he ignored that.

"You're pregnant?!" he shouted, a little too loud.

Neither of you had realised that you had gotten company, another patient standing by the door right behind you.

You turned around when Niragi glanced behind you, and you felt your cheeks burn when you saw the same blond man now staring down at the two of you, a carton of orange juice in his hand.

"Sorry, i can leave if you need privacy," he said, already taking a step back when you and Niragi looked at him.

So, he was Niragi's roommate.

"No, that's alright," you said shyly. "I wouldn't want to be in your way of resting and recovering."

"Nah, i think i'll go get some fresh air," the guy said. "I'll let you talk."

He left without another word.

"So, who's the dad?" Niragi scoffed. "You have a secret boyfriend you didn't dare to tell me about?"

"I don't have a boyfriend," you sighed and rolled your eyes.

"Well, who's the guy then?" Niragi asked.

Your eyes started to water. God, you didn't want to start crying in front of Niragi. You turned your face away from him, avoiding eye contact the best you could. Niragi's face fell.

"Don't tell me someone drugged you at a bar or something?" Niragi said loudly.

"Calm down, please," you said quietly, not wanting half of the hospital to hear your supposedly private conversation. "I don't want to deal with this right now."

"Y/N," Niragi gritted his teeth. "Did someone drug you?"

"No," you sighed. "It was just, it was just a hookup."

"Consensual one?" Niragi asked with raised eyebrows.

Niragi always got extremely angry if anyone hurt you, he'd become absolutely furious. If you were able to name the exact guy who hurt you, Niragi would immediately get up and go after him, fists ready for a deadly fight – even if he was laying on a hospital bed all wounded. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath.

His hands travelled around your body up and down, until they reached your pants. He was just about to slide his hand in your pants and underwear, but you grabbed his wrist gently and made him stop.

"Um, i don't think it's a good idea after all," you said. "I'm too drunk right now."

"Come on," he whispered and moved his hand on your cheek. "I'll be good for you, okay? I'll make you feel good."

"No, i think we should stop," you mumbled, feeling really dizzy and sure that you'd pass out soon.

He looked into your eyes for a moment until he sighed and got up.

"Alright, we'll stop then."

After that, you didn't remember anything until you woke up on that same spot the next day, him sleeping right next to you in his underwear.

"Did we... do anything?" you asked in slight panic.

"No, don't worry, nothing happened."

You started to regret telling him about this right here and now and not waiting until you'd get back home. But you couldn't get it out of your mind, you couldn't.

"Let's just get back home first, okay?" you pleaded, voice trembling a little bit.

You tried to change the subject.

"Um, do you know who that guy was?" you asked.

"That blond dude?" Niragi asked. "Nah, never seen him before. Was in the same accident." He was silent for a moment. "You know, he said his heart stopped for one minute. So did mine. Weird, huh?"

You furrowed your brows. "Isn't that a little too strange coincidence?"

"I wouldn't overthink it," Niragi said, trying to brush it off.

You wouldn't be sure if you'd be able to just forget that and not start overthinking, but you needed to just focus on recovering and getting to go back home.

But then, thinking about your home, you realised something.

"Oh no," you mumbled.

"What?"

"My apartment," you started. "It wasn't far from where we were walking. Surely the meteorite has ruined it. Yours too."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Niragi cursed and hit the mattress under him. "I had just gotten a new TV. You know how much it fucking cost?"

"Where are we going to stay now?" you asked in slight panic. You didn't want to go stay with your mom or dad, you wouldn't be able to go through that. When you had moved out, you had been more relieved than ever before – you'd never permanently go back anymore. Your friends didn't have any spare rooms for you either.

"We'll figure it out," Niragi muttered. "I have a friend who could help us out."

♤♡♧◇

While Chishiya went outside to get fresh air, like he had told you and Niragi, your face was stuck in his mind.

Where did he know you? He didn't know you, but why did you seem so familiar? Did you resemble someone he knew? Even your voice sounded familiar.

Seeing you get hurt, by his hand, made him worried for you. More worried than what was normal to him.

But why?

♤♡♧◇

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