#if it turned out that will never had a coming out scene or anything of the sort OR

[aquaticmercy]

Sleeper

Summary : When Bucky falls in love with the antihero he’s sleeping with, he offers her a place in the Thunderbolts*.

Pairing : Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x antihero!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Violence, death, sex (a prominent theme but not graphic), cursing. Borderline obsessive behaviour. Congressman Barnes as per the Thunderbolts teaser. Batman/Catwoman-like dynamic. (Let me know if I miss anything.)

Word count : 6.5k

Note : This fic was genuinely written because of the van scene in the Thunderbolts trailer. That’s it. That’s how down bad I am for Thunderbolts Bucky. Reader is an antihero called ‘Sleeper.’ The Thunderbolts are referred to as ‘the team.’ The reader and Bucky first met a little bit before FATWS. I also have a cap! Sam fic coming out soon because my god. I am drooling over these two. Enjoy!

Bucky first heard of your existence in whispers.

He had heard your codename in hushed tones when he got off the ice in Wakanda, after Shuri helped rid his brain of the trigger words that haunted him.

Several of the Dora Milaje had crossed paths with you in Ivory Coast, and they had told everyone in the palace about how terrifyingly efficient—and violent— you had been. They said you finished the job before they even got there.

Your codename was nothing but silent rumours by those on the fringes of the intelligence community. They called you ‘Sleeper’— it wasn't a name you chose for yourself, but you have chosen to embrace the fear that people associated with it. 

You were an antihero, a vigilante who left rivers of blood in your wake.

Four years ago, you started tracking down the same corrupt officials and Hydra remnants that Bucky was trying to arrest.

The difference: Bucky set out to turn them in, you had your heart set on killing them, fast and efficient, as you always have been.

The first time you crossed paths with the former Winter Soldier, it was in a crumbling KGB safehouse in Eastern Europe. Bucky had taken down most of the guards, ready to haul the high-ranking operative to a jail cell in DC where he can await his trial. He was tired, the strain of therapy and sleepless nights holding him down, but this mission kept him focused.

But when he reached the operative’s office, the target was already slumped over his desk, cold and lifeless. 

"Guess I beat you to it, soldier," you said, voice laced with a confidence that made his stomach twist. You let him process the sight of you—fitted black suit, gloved hands, and a smirk that told him you were not only dangerous, but damn well aware of it. A mask obscured your eyes, but even with half of your face covered, he could see how smug you looked.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” he said, voice low.

“Good thing I wasn’t asking for you permission.” You tilted your head, the ghost of a laugh in your voice. You were watching him, sizing him up with those sharp eyes that felt like they could through see every part of him he tried to keep hidden. 

“Sergeant James Barnes, right?” You said his name with a familiarity that sent a jolt through him. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Never thought I’d actually run into you, though. Lucky night for me.”

He narrowed his eyes, not trusting this mysterious stranger, though he couldn’t deny he was intrigued. “And you are…?”

“I have no name to claim for myself,” you shrugged, leaning back against the wall, “but people call me Sleeper.” You let the name linger, knowing he’d recognize it. 

His memory reeled back to Ayo and the Dora Milaje, who had warned him of you: ruthless, volatile. A ghost who disappeared without a trace, always a step ahead. He’d just never expected Sleeper to be… so easy on the eyes.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” He repeated with no conviction. He narrowed his eyes at the body. “Especially not like this.”

You shrugged, pushing off the wall and strolling over. “Relax, soldier,” your gaze met his, “I only go after the ones who deserve it. Just because I do it my way doesn’t mean I’m the villain here.”

“Still doesn’t make it right,” he muttered, but there was a flicker of curiosity underneath his stormy blue eyes.

“Then stop me,” you challenged softly, leaning close enough to feel his breath. “If you can.”

His breath hitched ever so slightly.

You grinned, a spark of intrigue lighting up in your gaze. “I’ll be waiting, James.”

And before he could respond, you were gone.

He knew he should’ve stopped you— but some part of him was glad he hadn’t. 

As you disappeared, he felt something he hadn’t in a long, long time: excitement.

—

From that day on, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. 

At first, it was frustrating. You were hard to track, ruthless—and yet there was a sickening righteous principle to your actions that he couldn’t deny.

As the weeks went by, something else rooted in his brain when he thought of you. Fascination. 

His mind often wandered about you during his quiet, sleepless nights, wondering who you were beneath the mask, beneath the mystery and the whispers.

Sam noticed, of course. He'd raise an eyebrow whenever Bucky lingered too long over case files where you'd been mentioned. He’d nudge if he seemed overly eager to volunteer for missions that involved your typical targets.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky and she’ll show,” Sam teased once, nudging Bucky. “She’s dangerous, though. Is that your type?”

Bucky scoffed, but he knew Sam was right. And maybe that danger was part of what kept him intrigued.

—

The next time you crossed paths, it was in a dark alleyway, both of you dripping with sweat and breathing heavily after taking down an underground fighting ring. 

“You know,” he’d said, “killing them doesn’t make it justice.”

“You think turning them in is enough?” Your voice had cut through the air like a knife, but there was no malice behind it. You wanted him to understand your line of thinking, wanted him to know. “People like them are everywhere. They’ll get out. They’ll come back.”

“So you think you get to decide whether they live or die?” he challenged, jaw tight.

“No,” you said, readjusting your mask. “But I do it anyway.��� There was a flicker of sadness in your gaze that he noticed, even if you tried to hide it.

What had happened to you? He thought to himself. What have you been through?

In that moment, he noticed the pain behind your eyes, the kind of pain he knew intimately. You weren’t just someone who killed for vengeance; you must have had your reasons. You must have carried scars that ran deep, maybe deeper than his.

—

From that point on, Bucky made it a habit to look for you on every mission. It was like an unspoken game, this cat-and-mouse chase. Every time he saw you, the tension between you grew. 

Sometimes, he’d get there first, managing to intercept before you could execute the target. Other times, you’d arrive at the same time. He’d try to talk you out of it, to make you see things his way, but you’d laugh him off, the kind of laugh that hinted at more than your fair share of heartache. 

And sometimes, you’d tease him, push boundaries he wasn’t sure he should cross.

“You like this, don’t you, James?” You’d whisper it low, close enough for him to catch your scent, a faint hint of gunpowder and vanilla perfume. “The chase. Getting to play the hero while I get my hands dirty.”

He wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t. 

—

Bucky grew obsessed, even if he wouldn’t admit it. Every encounter left him more and more drawn to you. He’d search for files on you for days on end without sleep, but all he found were reports with no concrete evidence. He found himself looking for excuses to track your movements, hoping he’d be there to stop you but not quite sure he wanted to succeed.

One night, after another close call, you leaned into him as he pushed you up against the wall. He could feel the heat radiating off you, the electricity charged in the space between you. You looked up at him, the smallest hint of vulnerability peeking through your mask.

“Why do you keep doing this, James?” you asked, voice softer this time. “You can’t save me.”

“Maybe not,” he replied, frowning as his eyes looked down to the edge of your lips, “but I can try.”

That night, he wondered just how long he could keep up this dance before one of you finally gave in.

—

One night, while you were on a caper in Prague, everything changed for the two of you. 

The mission had been bloody, chaotic, and a little too close to mayhem for Bucky’s liking. You had taken down an entire network of arms dealers, setting fire to one of their last remaining munitions blocks and leaving it to burn. 

Bucky had arrived too late, frantically trying to contain the chaos you’d left in your wake, alerting local authorities, making sure the flames didn’t spread to a nearby market.

When he caught up to you, adrenaline ran hot through his veins. 

He'd followed you through winding streets and up dark staircases, up to the hotel you were holed up in. He followed you into your room, locking you both in.

His voice was tight, anger simmering beneath. “You’re careless.” His blue eyes were striking underneath the european moonlight, “you could’ve taken out half the neighbourhood, and for what?”

“I got the job done, James.” You shrugged, trying to look unbothered. “It’s not pretty, but it works.”

He stepped closer, and you held his gaze, “You know, I’d turn you in if you weren’t so…” he paused, his voice faltering, as if the words were lodged in his throat, “Weren’t so…”

Your pulse quickened. “If I weren’t so what?” You snapped, daring him to finish, to admit what had been hanging between you two since the day you met.

But he didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled you into a fierce, bruising kiss.

You didn’t hesitate—you kissed him back with just as much fire, your hands tangling in his hair.

Bucky’s hands found your waist, fingers digging in with enough pressure to leave marks. He pushed you back until your shoulders hit the wall, lips moving down your jaw, then hot against your neck. His breaths were ragged, matching your own, and he was holding you as if letting go would mean losing control entirely. 

You couldn’t help the gasp that escaped your lips as his mouth found a sensitive spot on the dip in your collarbone, his hands roaming possessively over your back, down your sides.

You pulled him back to your mouth, desperately needing that connection. 

When you finally broke apart for air, his forehead rested against yours. You untied your mask and threw it across the room.

Fuck. he thought as his eyes widened, taking in your full facial features for the first time. You were even more beautiful than I imagined you to be. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, he thought to himself, I’m done for.

He was ready to throw you in jail cell. Instead, he ended up in your bed.

That night, in the dim light of your cheap hotel room, clothes were shed in hurried, frustrated movements, and all that pent-up tension finally found its release.

That first time had been desperate, raw. Both of you were driven by the need to let go, to feel something other than the weight of the cold blooded kills and the darkness you both carried.

Ever since then, every time you crossed paths, it was the same: adrenaline-fueled clashes and heated conversations about morality turned into hotel room rendezvous, hands grasping, lips colliding, both of you seeking the kind of solace you could only ever find in each other. 

—

You’d never admitted it out loud, but Bucky had an effect on you. When he was around, you found yourself hesitating just that split second longer before slicing your target’s arteries and leaving them to bleed.

You didn’t feel the need to wipe out every enemy anymore, and his disapproval of your methods had started haunting you in ways you’d never expected. Maybe that was why you’d started allowing him to find you more often, taking on jobs you knew he’d be there for. 

It was a dangerous game, but you kept playing it. He was obsessed with finding you, and you weren’t about to stop him.

He’d learned to read you better, your patterns, the places you tended to show up. By the time you landed in some city on the opposite end of the globe, he’d be there like clockwork, showing up right before you finished a job, confronting you before you could disappear into the night.

But the nights you spent together were… different. 

You never asked about each other’s pasts; you kept it in the here and now, keeping him at a safe distance even as you let him pull you under the covers time and again.

Every time he asked your real name, you’d smile and brush him off, deflecting his curiosity with a kiss or a teasing answer. He didn’t press, but you could see the questions in the way his brow furrowed, could feel the affection in the way he lingered in the mornings after, with a soft smile in his eyes that made your heart beat faster.

Each time, he told himself it was just catharsis, just a release of frustration for both of you, nothing more. But that excuse had worn thin over the years, and Bucky knew it as well as you did. 

He knew it wasn’t one sided either. He wasn’t blind to the way you’d look at him as he drifted to sleep next to you. Once, he caught a flicker of something vulnerable in your eyes before you put the walls back up. 

And God, was he drawn to you, to the side of you that fought so fiercely, that showed just enough vulnerability to keep him coming back. He was so fucking desperate to understand you better, to see more of the person underneath the mask.

—

One night, after a mission in Manila, you’d both ended up in a small, worn-down cheap hotel room overlooking the city lights. You were leaning against the headrest of the bed, a hint of sweat clinging to your skin, breathing still unsteady as you came down from the high you gave each other.

He watched you, his gaze lingering on the barely-perceptible rise and fall of your chest. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you muttered, voice thick with exhaustion. There was a tremor in your tone, a flicker of something vulnerable that he wasn’t sure you meant for him to hear.

“Like what?” he asked, nuzzling closer to you. His now long hair was tied back in a low bun, your hair tie holding it together because he didn't have one of his own.

“Like you want something from me that I’m too broken to give,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes. But he reached for you, tipping your chin up until you had no choice but to look at him, and there it was—that flicker of affection he knew ran just as deep in you as it did in him.

“Maybe I want it anyway,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity. “You ever think of that?”

“This is just a release, James.” Your gaze softened for just a second, long enough for him to catch it before you shook your head, pulling yourself from his grasp. “It’s just something we both need.”

Even as you said it, you weren't convinced. He reached for you again, pulling you close, and kissed you because that was the only thing you’d let him do.

You melted into him once more, you found yourself wondering just how much longer you could keep him at arm’s length.

—

The shift in Bucky’s life had been as dramatic as it was unexpected. You’d never pegged him for politics—neither had he, to be fair—but here he was, representing his district, looking sharp in a suit that cost more than the last few hotels you’d met in combined. 

He’s upgraded. Freshly elected, polished up, all suited and respectable as a congressman, fighting for reform from a marble office by day and for justice in dark alleys by night. 

But tonight, with that half-smile he only gets with you, he’s still the same— still carrying that simmering tension in his lips, his hair tousled from a long night of pursuing you through the shadows. 

After a mission that had you both knee-deep in an abandoned bunker hunting a rogue assassin, you found yourself together once again. Only this time, the hotel he’d booked was far from cheap. 

He brought you to a five-star suite. The bed was massive, the sheets soft, and the view from the window sprawled out over the city skyline, a stark contrast to the dingy rooms you’d gotten used to. 

Now, lying beside him in the rumpled silk sheets, you watched him catch his breath. You moved off of his lap to lay next to him, euphoric from the guilty pleasure you both indulged in. 

“You know, the second someone finds out Congressman Barnes has a relationship with a violent vigilante, you’re out of office.”

He looked over at you, eyebrows raised. “Relationship?”

Fuck. He caught you slipping up. He caught you thinking about a relationship with him.

“Casual sex is still a relationship, James.” You shrugged, trying to save face. You turned to him, with a lazy, unconvinced smile, “Strings attached or not, it counts.”

He shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching as he watched your wall break, even if only one brick at a time. “Casual,” His fingers traced idle patterns along your bare shoulder. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Unless you’re pretending you don’t want it anymore.” You paused, leaning closer, “Or maybe you just like that I could ruin everything. That I could say one word to the press, post one picture online and your reputation is finished. You’d be back to square one.”

He chuckled, his fingers grazing down your arm. It was terrifying, how comfortable he’d become with you. “I trust that you wouldn’t,” he said softly, voice laced with that steady confidence, like he knows you better than you know yourself.

His declaration hung in the air, and you felt guilt striking in your chest.

This wasn’t supposed to be part of this arrangement. Trust was for partners, for couples, for people who wanted things that lasted. 

You shook it off, leaning back, a little smirk tugging at your lips as you lifted a brow. “You’re right. I do have a soft spot for you, Congressman Barnes,” you added, the title rolling off your tongue with a touch of sarcasm, “Consider it my gift to democracy.”

He laughed, letting his head fall back against the pillow. His hand drifted down to catch yours, holding it in a way that felt too natural, too comfortable for what you were supposed to be. 

You both knew, despite the banter and the invisible boundaries, this thing between you was already past casual. It was the reason he keeps showing up where you showed up, the reason you’re letting him into your life in ways you never let anyone before. You were both just too stubborn to say it.

He pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a way that feels almost… affectionate. For a moment, you let yourself sink into it, forgetting the consequences, the danger, the fact that this man might just unravel you completely and you would have no say in it whatsoever.

When you pulled back, his fingers trailed over your bare waist. “Maybe it’s more than just a soft spot,” he suggested, his voice barely above a whisper.

You raised an eyebrow, heart beating out of your chest. “Let’s not get sentimental, James,” you brushed, letting your fingers graze his jaw as you murmured, “You’ve got an image to protect, after all.”

He lets out a sigh that’s part laughter, part frustration. He knew you were deflecting. “Right,” he said, brushing his lips against yours again. 

“You and your image,” you chuckled, “Out there, shaking hands and making speeches about justice while you sneak off to hotel rooms with someone like me.”

He grinned, not a trace of shame in his expression as he turned his gaze back to you. “Someone’s gotta keep you in line. Even if it takes…” His voice lowered, dropping into that deep, teasing tone that made your stomach knot. “…a hands-on approach.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re the last person who’d ever get me in line, James.” You leaned closer, though you didn't believe a single word you said. 

There was a long silence for a while. He eventually reached out, brushing a lock of hair back from your face, his thumb tracing over your cheek.

“Maybe you’re right,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe that’s why I keep coming back.”

As the city lights cast a faint glow over the room, you lay there in silence, limbs tangled together in a way that felt a little less no strings attached every time.

—

The next time you meet, you were on a late-night operation on the dark outskirts of the city. You’ve tracked down a group of mercenaries. They’re as ruthless as they were careless, leaving a trail of devastation across the criminal underworld. But tonight, their recklessness will end with you. 

You moved through in silence, precise, methodical. One by one, you took them down, not killing, but incapacitating them. Your fists were quick, your strikes precise. It’s what you’ve done for years, a grim pattern of efficiency that never required a second blow. Just as you reached the man who hired them with your knife drawn—a local crime lord—you felt his presence before you saw him.

“Think twice, Sleeper,” Bucky said from behind you.

You froze, heart pounding as you stood over the crime lord begging for mercy. It would be so easy to end this now, but with Bucky watching, you hesitated.

You lowered the knife.

Instead of killing him, you tied him up alongside the other mercenaries, ignoring the questions in their fearful eyes. Bucky made a call, alerting local authorities to pick up the mess you’ve left behind.

“What now?” you asked, walking away from the carnage. You were expecting the usual pattern: another hotel room, a brief reprieve from the violence, nothing more. 

But he surprised you, lacing his hand in between your fingers, warm and secure. 

He had never, ever, showed affection outside closed doors.

“Come with me.” 

—

You didn’t expect Bucky to take you back to his place, but soon you were standing outside a sleek high-rise in the heart of the city. You followed him up to his penthouse apartment. It’s almost disorienting— the polished floors, the floor-to-ceiling windows.

You found yourself standing in the quiet entryway of his home. The walls were painted in light, earthy tones, and the furniture was clean, modern, yet warm.

You glanced around, taking in the small details that hinted at Bucky's life beyond the missions. There were bookshelves lined with novels and memoirs, some old and looked like first editions, others barely touched. A few black-and-white photographs decorated the walls—New York City at dusk, a forest path, a beach sunset. It was an oddly peaceful place for a man like him. Certainly too peaceful for someone as broken as you.

“This is risky, James,” you said, looking up at him as he closed the door behind him, “Showing me where you live.”

“No, it's not,” he replied, his conviction absolute. “I trust you.”

There it was again. That word. Trust. The thing you never quite knew what to do with, especially coming from him.

You studied the way his favourite leather jacket was tossed on a chair, a half-read book by the couch. It felt like stepping across an invisible line. You set your mask down on the table before he grabbed your waist and pulled you close.

“This feels like crossing a boundary, James,” you admitted. You knew he should pull back, give you a chance to retreat. But you didn't want him to.

So he didn’t.

Instead, he cupped your face as he tilted your chin up gently. “What boundary?” he asked.

He knew that there were nothing separating you two. Not anymore.

The space between you vanished as his lips met yours. You kissed him back, losing yourself in the process of tasting him. His hands slid to the small of your back, pulling you closer. Kissing him felt like falling— like surrender.

You made your way to his bedroom, bodies tangled together, a blur of heated whispers and gasping breaths. Clothes fell away, discarded like old skin. The way he looked at you, it was like he was memorising every inch of you.

In that moment, you realised: the boundary had never been there. Not for him. Maybe not for you either.

—

The room was quiet as you lay tangled up in Bucky’s sheets. The duvet smelled like him, unlike the neutral, sterile scent of the usual hotel sheets. 

You’d never admit it, but it was intoxicating. 

The satisfied pulsing in your body had put a hazy filter over everything. 

Bucky smiled softly, kissing your forehead before reaching to his bedside drawer, pulling out a small glass box, placing it gently on your palm.

"Here," he murmured, almost shyly. He opened the box to reveal a hair tie inside. 

Oh. You recognised it. The ends were a bit frayed, the colour faded.

It was the hair tie you’d given him in Manila, a lifetime ago, a little piece of you that he’d tucked away in a corner of his home

You blinked, caught off guard. "You still have that?"

He shrugged, but his eyes wouldn’t meet yours. Was he… embarrassed? "I thought it was... worth keeping."

"Careful, James,” you couldn't help but tease him, nuzzling closer into his arms. “Keep this up and you might just start falling in love with me."

You felt his breath hitch.

He looked up, finally. Nervously.

Instead of denying it, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, warm whisper. "Would that be so bad?"

His fingers brushed against yours, sending a shiver through your spine. Your heart fluttered irregularly, your head spinning in a daze as you tried to keep your thoughts down.

No.

You couldn’t let him see that he was getting to you like this, so you did what you always did: you deflected, grinning forcefully and rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, right," you said, brushing off the moment. As much as it broke your heart to deny the truth, you were doing it for his sake and yours. "I'm not that easy to love, James."

He chuckled softly, the warmth of his breath brushing your skin as he pulled you closer, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "Maybe that's why I do." 

You shifted away from him, wrapping yourself in the sheets as if they could shield you from what he was offering — and from the ache in his gaze. 

"We can’t…" you said, voice barely above a whisper. "We can’t do this."

Bucky's eyes darkened, but he would be alright. He expected this from you.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to collect himself. You could see the struggle in his eyes, the battle between his desire for you and something else… there was something bigger. 

"I need to tell you something," he said quietly. “I have… a team.”

That caught you off guard. 

Bucky? On a team? He’d always seemed like a lone wolf, just like you. 

“There’s a couple of former Widows, who you’d get along with. Two other super soldiers. And someone who can… phase. Quantum experiment gone wrong.” He paused, “We’re trying to make something real here. And it’s missing someone.” His fingers trailed down your forearm, eventually clasping your palm in his, “It’s missing you.”

He pushed a strand of hair behind your ears, trailing your jawline delicately with his metal hand, “I need you.”

The invitation went unanswered for a moment. You swallowed, caught off-guard by how badly he seemed to want this, how he wanted you to be part of it.

“I work alone, James,” you said, brushing off the offer with a small, bitter smile. “You know that.”

“But why not?” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Why won’t you let someone else in for once?”

The frustration in his tone was raw, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of pain flash across his face from this rejection.

“This is your chance to do something good the right way,” he pressed, and there was a quiet urgency in his voice. “No more hunting down bad guys with no direction. No more living like you’ve got nothing left to lose.”

His words sank in, and your walls felt shakier than ever. The idea of leaving the past behind, of actually building something… you hadn’t let yourself imagine it in years.

“Just think about it,” he said softly, placing his forehead on yours. “You don't have to decide now. Just… consider it.”

You gave a noncommittal shrug, but the truth was that his offer echoed in your mind, louder than you wanted to admit. He smiled at your dismissiveness, recognizing the crack in your armour. He didn’t push further. 

You realised that for the first time in a long time, you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted to say no.

—

The next time you saw Bucky was in the middle of a mission neither of you had wanted. 

Just a week had passed since you’d spent the night in his apartment. Since then, you had told yourself you shouldn’t return. You couldn’t. You were getting too close, feeling too much.

It was getting dangerous.

But then Bucky had reached out to you, voice tight and desperate, the kind of desperation that stripped away all his pride. It was a vulnerability even you hadn't seen from him before. His team was in over their heads, he’d said. He needed you. 

You’d agreed to help, but you’d been careful to remind him that this was a one-time thing. One mission, and that was it.

But then everything went wrong.

It happened so fast, you barely understood how everything had gone wrong. 

You were with Bucky, fighting side-by-side, the two of you moving as if connected by some invisible thread. 

You had taken a blow, separating you from everyone else. You tried standing up but fuck! The impact had shattered your ankle, sending a searing pain through your leg. Your nerves were on fire in a way they had never been before.

You couldn't move. 

You couldn't get up. Couldn’t run.

And then the ground shifted, an explosion roared from behind, and the next thing you knew, a van was thrown across the road, hurtling straight toward you.

For a single, frozen heartbeat, you realised this was it. 

It was over.

You saw the faces of bystanders staring from the sidewalk, their eyes wide, too horrified to look away. You let go of the cold steel of your knife still gripped in your hand. The acrid taste of smoke on your tongue intensified. And the truck—a wall of twisted metal hurtling closer, closer, impossibly fast.

You’d spent so many years brushing so close to death that you always thought you’d be ready.

But now, all you felt was regret.

Regret that this was how you’d die: in the middle of a cold, empty street, surrounded by strangers who would never remember you, never know who you were or what you’d done. 

Alone. 

You thought of Bucky in those last seconds—his quiet smiles, the way he’d look at you like he could see through every wall you put up, the silent crutch he’d offered without expecting anything in return. Bucky, who’d trusted you, who’d somehow cared for you even after everything you’d done. 

For the first time, you felt regret for every life you’d taken, every person you’d left to die in your wake.

Your life had been nothing but survival and bloodshed. You had told yourself it was necessary, that it was the only way. But here, now, with your own death inches away, it all felt hollow.

You’d given up hope, abandoned the idea of redemption long ago—because you were too broken.

And yet, with Bucky, something had changed. He had looked at you and somehow seen past it all. He’d made you feel as if maybe, just maybe, you were something more than the ghost you’d become. Maybe, instead of running, you could have found a way to fight for something real, something that mattered. 

Maybe you could have been someone better. 

You would never know now.

The world narrowed, and you braced yourself for the inevitable, hoping it would be quick and painless. Your fingers tightened, clinging to the memory of him in those last, precious seconds as you waited to feel the impact—

But it never came.

Instead, there was a rush of air, a deafening crash, and then—silence. You blinked, dazed, your heart still hammering, and when you looked up, Bucky was standing there, his metal arm outstretched, braced against the van that he’d deflected away.

He turned to face you, his expression raw, worry carved deep into his features as he scanned you, checking for injuries. For a moment, he just stared, his breathing uneven, as if he’d been the one facing certain death.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice panicked.

You tried to answer, but the words tangled, caught in your throat. You managed a nod, barely able to process what had just happened. 

“Shit,” he kneeled next to you, “Is your ankle broken, can you walk?”

You stared at him, trembling as he tore a part of his shirt and wrapped it around your injury for support.

Bucky had saved you. He had thrown himself in front of a hurtling vehicle without a moment of hesitation, as if your life were worth that sacrifice. 

He had saved you.

You were alive because of him.

Alive, when you’d already accepted that you were going to die alone.

No one had ever done that for you. No one had ever saved you—not like this, not without asking anything in return. Hell, you never thought that you deserved to be saved.

“You’re okay, Sleeper,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was reassuring himself as much as you. “I’m here.”

His words settled into the cracks that had broken open inside you, filling them in ways you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t realised how empty you’d felt until now, how long you’d carried the weight of loneliness, of believing that this life—this endless, solitary fight—was all you deserved. 

Bucky made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to be alone. That maybe, even after all you’d done, there was a place for you outside the shadows.

“Don’t call me that,” your voice trembled, “I don’t want you to call me Sleeper anymore.”

Bucky stopped for a second, confused. “What do you want me to call you, then?”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Something inside you broke, raw and vulnerable, and the name you’d hidden for years slipped from your lips before you even realised it. Your real name—your last, fragile piece of self you’d kept locked away, hoping one day you’d be able to reclaim it. 

It felt right with Bucky, like you could trust him with it, like you could let yourself be seen.

Bucky’s eyes widened, his face softening as he repeated it, almost reverent, like he wanted to remember how it felt to say it. 

Hearing him say your name, like a prayer, like it was sacred, like it mattered— tore down whatever walls you had left. He’d given you something you didn’t know you could have: the feeling of belonging to yourself again. The feeling of belonging to the world again.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers shaking. He moved, pulling you closer. His touch was grounding, steady—a lifeline that anchored you to the moment, to this fragile reality where you didn’t have to be alone anymore. 

You pressed your lips to his, but this kiss was different— it wasn't casual or sexual as it has always been. This time, it was gentle, carrying something other than desire, something precious and fragile. 

Something worth nurturing.

When you finally pulled away, he looked at you lovingly. 

“I’ll join you,” you said, the words coming from some deep part of you that had been waiting for someone to give you this chance, this choice.

Now you realised that this choice was yours all along. All you had to do was take it.

And you did, because maybe, instead of running from yourself, you could find a way to make things right. Maybe you could fight for something greater than yourself.

For the first time, wrapped in Bucky’s embrace, you believed that maybe you could be someone worth saving.

—

A month later, you were all gathered around a small campfire, tucked away in a quiet corner of nowhere. 

The night was cool, the fire warm, and laughter bubbled up from the group as you shared bits and pieces of each other's lives. 

“Team bonding,” John had said.

John passed around a nearly empty bag of marshmallows, Alexei poked at the fire, and Yelena and Ava exchanged eye rolls at everyone else’s antics, though they leaned closer together under the same blanket.

Eventually, the conversation drifted, as it often did, to you and Bucky. 

“So… how did the Winter Soldier and Sleeper even meet?” Yelena asked, raising an eyebrow as she threw another marshmallow into her mouth. 

The moniker you had adopted still twisted in your stomach every time you heard it, but it had lost its edge. This time, you felt in control. Like you owned it.

"I have theories,” Alexei nodded, crossing his arms, “but I have to know."

You shared a look with Bucky, a small smile creeping on both your faces. “There was a Hydra agent we were both after.” you began, biting back a frown. “And… well, I was angrier back then.” 

He placed his arm on yours, a comforting gesture.

“You wanted him alive,” you said. “I had… different ideas.”

“After that—” Bucky wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “—She was all I could think about. I kept showing up wherever she was, trying to figure her out.” 

“So basically,” John said, trying to hold back a laugh, “Bucky is a bit of a stalker.”

“A stalker?” Bucky echoed incredulously, “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘dedicated.’” 

“No, no,” Ava interjected, “you followed her everywhere did you not? ‘Stalker’ is the right word, Barnes.”

“Fine,” he admitted jokingly, “But what can I say? It was love at first sight.” 

Yelena gagged theatrically and John clutched his stomach in a fit of laughter.

Alexei just chuckled and muttered something about “American romance.” Ava made a face, disgusted but secretly amused.

You couldn’t help but laugh along with them, leaning against Bucky’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. You could see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you with a quiet smile.

In some way, this still felt too good to be real.

For the first time, you realized you’d found exactly what you’d been missing all along. A home. Maybe even the closest thing you’ve ever had to a family.

A place where you belonged.

And you knew, looking at all of them—especially at Bucky—that this was just the beginning.

-end

[queenk00k]

cupid's lead arrows // rafe cameron

Requested by anon

Request: Hi girl I love your writing 🫶🏻 Can you write about Rafe, who has been Reader’s best friend forever, but secretly has a crush on her? One day, Reader confesses that she’s dating someone, and Rafe does everything he can to break them up.

Summary: You finally get a boyfriend but something, or someone, seems intent on keeping you apart.

Word count: 1.8k

Includes: This is literally all angst sorry

Note: My first Outer Banks fic in over 4 years lol please be kind! I got a little carried away...this lends itself to a part 2, if anyone likes it.

It’s not always a walk in the park when you’re Rafe Cameron’s best friend.

You’ve been inseparable since the first day of high school when you got paired together for a semester long project. Study sessions in the library (well, you would study, and Rafe would flirt with the cute library monitor) turned into after school hangouts at Tannyhill, which turned into hosting parties and heading to college together.

Did you ever have a crush on your best friend? Well fuck, have you seen him?

Not only is he gorgeous but you got to experience a whole different side of Rafe that not everyone got to see, the sweet side – loyal, caring, and pretty soft behind the scenes.

You spent years pining after Rafe, silently and stoically of course, never wanting to ruin your friendship by letting him know how you felt. You figured it was for the best and besides, you had lived through enough of Rafe’s girlfriends to know you weren’t ever going to be his type.

You’ve seen each other’s highest highs and lowest lows which, unfortunately for you both, Rafe seemed to have more than his fair share of. Much to the disappointment of your parents and the shock of your friends, you stuck by Rafe’s side through his drug addiction and his drinking problems and were there to pick up the pieces after his father died. Rafe, in turn, had your back when you had blow up fights with your mother and comforted you when you had problems with your friends.

Now, two years out of college and with Rafe mostly sober, you didn’t think there was anything you two couldn’t handle, nothing you couldn’t face together, nothing that could ever come between you.

Until you started dating Parker.

Rafe seemed happy for you when you first told him, hugging you and telling you he was proud of you for “finally getting some.” He was nice to Parker (by Rafe’s standards, which really meant not going out of his way to intimidate the guy) when you brought him to the beach and introduced them.

But as the weeks went by, you noticed a subtle shift in Rafe’s behaviour. You kept telling yourself you were being paranoid, that there’s no way Rafe could have an issue with Parker. He told you he was happy for you, right? And unlike the last potential boyfriends, Rafe didn’t try to scare him off.

But something was off.

You noticed Rafe was falling back into old habits that scared you. He was drinking more, often double parked at parties, and either loud and belligerent or sulking on his own in a corner.

And then then the incidents began. At first you just thought it was shit luck, but then it just started to feel like the universe was conspiring against you and Parker.

Turns out Rafe was conspiring against you and Parker.

It started when Parker seemingly ghosted you on one of your Friday night dates, leaving you alone and upset at the wharf before Rafe picked you up. Parker swore he had car issues, both his front tires punctured, and you figured that was a reasonable excuse.

Then the night of the annual bonfire, a harmless game of ‘never have I ever’ turned sour when Rafe and Topper kept coming up with the most oddly specific scenarios. Each of them left Parker putting down his fingers, looking sheepishly over at you as your cheeks turned red from embarrassment before you got up and left the circle, Rafe raising a beer bottle to his lips as he watched you intently. He followed after you that night and you melted into his arms, naïvely assuming your best friend was comforting you without an ulterior motive.

And now the worst of all – Topper had cornered you as you were leaving the driving range to ask if you knew Parker was spending time with his ex, and you finally snapped.

“Where did you hear this, Topper? Who told you?”

And because Topper was, above all, really just spineless, you got the answer out of him straight away.

Rafe. At the scene of the crime, three times in a row. What a fucking coincidence.

So, you decided you’d had enough of this bullshit, of Rafe playing games with your relationship, and you drove over to his house, marched up to his front door and banged on it with your fist until he finally opened up.

“Y/N!” he said, looking genuinely excited to see you. “What are you doing here?”

You took a deep breath, willing yourself not to lose your shit just yet, not to get angry until you actually knew the truth.

“Do you like Parker? Do you want me to be with him?”

Rafe blinked at you, his blue eyes narrowing in confusion.

“What? I don’t-”

“Tell me the truth,” you cut in. “I want to hear you say it.”

Rafe stepped over the threshold and gently closed the door behind him, clearing his throat before he answered.

“No. I don’t, and I want you to break up with him,” he said, folding his arms.

You huffed out a humourless laugh.

“Right, well, that’s not going to happen. Thanks a lot,” you say, willing yourself not to cry as you turn around and walk away from your best friend.

“Y/N, please come back. I have my reasons!” Rafe raises his voice as he calls out to you.

“Why do you care so much? Is this some fake chivalrous ‘if I can’t have you, no one can’ bullshit? Just leave me alone, Rafe.” You say as you clamber down the front steps and start walking to your car.

“Because I love you, alright?!” Rafe shouts after you.

You stop, the righteous anger you were feeling only moments before threatening to dissipate into the humid night air. You close your eyes, inhaling deeply before turning around to face your best friend.

Rafe’s breathing heavily, running his hand over his head as if to erase what he just said.

“Fuck,” he hisses, his ring glinting in the moonlight as he chews on his thumb, looking pleadingly at you, willing you to say something, anything. The silence between you feels heavy as your mind races. He’s said it before of course, but it’s usually in jest, or after you help him with something. This feels different, and you know better than to assume it’s not.

“Rafe,” you say, fighting to keep your voice steady. “What are you doing?” You watch him warily as he takes a hesitant step towards you.

“I love you. I’m serious. More than best friends, more than anything we’ve been in the past. I love you and I…I can’t stand to see you with someone else. I can’t let it happen.”

“You have no right-”

“He’s not a good guy, y/n!” Rafe raises his voice again, making you flinch slightly. You scoff at his words, throwing him an incredulous glare.

“Like you can talk, Rafe. I know you – more than anyone else. You’re not exactly in a position to be telling me who’s good for me or not,” you snap.

Rafe huffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, you got me. I’m not perfect, fine, but I know you and I know you shouldn’t be with Parker. That’s why I-” Rafe stops abruptly, his mouth twisting.

You step closer to him, closing the gap between you. “That’s why you what, Rafe?” Your heart pounds and you’re sure you’re about to have your suspicions confirmed. When Rafe stands there, dumbstruck and silent, you answer for him.

“You’re the one who started that rumour about Parker and his ex, aren’t you?”

Rafe’s silence tells you everything you need to know. You shake your head, not quite believing that your best friend would try and sabotage your relationship like this.

“And the bonfire? That was on purpose, wasn’t it? You got some dirt on Parker and wanted me to know about it.”

Rafe winced. “Well, Topper helped with that one. But seriously, this is all for your own good. I’m trying to protect you!”

You hold your hand up. “Stop. Just stop. How could you do this? Why would you try and break us up like this, just because you’re jealous? Why can’t you just let me be happy? Not to mention, you’ve been hurting me, Rafe! You’re not just hurting Parker; you’re destroying me in the process.”

You’re crying now, feeling betrayed. You had barely noticed but it had started to rain, the droplets mixing with your tears to run mascara down your cheeks. Rafe has the audacity to look concerned and regretful, to move as if to hug you and you shake his arm off before jabbing your index finger into his chest.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Rafe. You had your chance! For years! Just because you’ve finally fucking woken up doesn’t mean you get to ruin my happiness. And now this bullshit about Parker’s family? That’s low, even for you,” you spit, the brief warmth you felt when Rafe told you he loved you now completely cold.

Rafe shook his head. “No, no, you don’t get it! That’s all true! They’re shady fucking people and God, that’s coming from a Cameron. You can’t get caught up in their mess,” he pleads.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think I’m going to believe you now! Why should I?” you yell before spinning on your heel and stalking down the driveway to your car, being careful to not slip on the pavement.

“Y/N, wait!” Rafe calls and he catches up to you in two long strides, grabbing your wrist with his large hand. His white button-down shirt was almost transparent now and the rain was running in rivers off his nose as he looked down at you.

“Please,” he begs. “Come inside. Let me explain. I love you, y/n, please,” Rafe looks desperate, and you almost pity him before you snap back to reality and remember why you’re so angry.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s house,” you snarl, tugging your wrist out of his grip. “And if you follow me Rafe, I swear to God, I will never speak to you again.”

With that, you yank open your car door and put the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.

“FUCK!”

As you pull away, you can hear Rafe yelling your name.

You don’t even look in the rearview mirror as you turn out of his street, tires squealing.

[cmkren]

— a human’s touch

; house x gn! reader

Maybe in some other lifetime romanticism wasn’t lost to House. That he had grown into a man capable of giving clear-cut affections— and capable of receiving it as well. The first ever puzzle he never wanted to solve, and it was of his heart. You, on the other hand, couldn’t give a damn about it all. You tied yourself to him after all.

In your lap, maybe that fact of House’s could be forgotten. For an hour or two.

a/n: i’ve never written for house, or house md at all. Currently in s4, and I’m just so attached to this crowd of misfits. I’m sorry if he ends up ooc— I just wanted to write something as close to fluff as I can with house LMAO 😭

tws; nothing you wouldn’t find in the show — 1.08k words

“What, are we playing mommy and her sexually frustrated boytoy? I don’t recall putting this into the search bar.”

“I don’t think you’re young and spry enough to be playing the pool boy in this scenario. Take as much offence as you’d want to that shocking revelation.”

Despite the very particular banter, nothing nefarious was happening in this scene. It was quite normal actually. In the tidiness of his apartment the two steeped in each other’s presence. Steeped may have been a strange word for it, but it fit the two. House was chatty like always, but even now and then he had grown quiet. Either getting caught by a specific feature of his partner (still thick on his tongue, not something he ever says really) or deep in his own thoughts.

What prompted him to make the off handed remark? Some might ask, especially when they were having such a peaceful moment!

The obvious answer would be because he’s House. What else was he supposed to do? The not-so-obvious answer was the strange feeling in his chest, as his head lay against the thighs of the person he oh-so cautiously let pull him down to such a position. If he turned his head sideways, you’d most certainly feel the prick of his unkempt beard.

He flexes his fingers, arms sort of kept… limp. Close to his chest. The pale blue of his eyes looking up to the other, brow wrinkled into a furrow as he felt awkward. He only allowed himself to be so hesitant for a second more before he went slack jawed and widened his eyes— a mockery of coming to another ‘revelation’.

“Oh! Pray tell me then, what are we?” Spoken like a young teenager picking out lines from a rom-com they watched the day before to aid them in romantic endeavours. His arms even moving just the slightest to resemble a ‘gosh darn it!’ kind of movement. That garnered an amused noise out of you, your hand very gently resting atop his mess of hair.

“Not we, you. What you are, is a man who can’t even sit still and let me dote on you. So I resorted to,” your free hand gestured to him. Legs stretched and resting on the arm rest of his couch, his head comfortably in your lap, “this.”

Then it was House’s turn to give a little snort.

“What you’ve resorted to is crippling a cripple. Can’t move! Should I go dial 911? Or are you going to kick my legs from behind just as I reach my phone?” This time, there wasn’t any sort of sound akin to laughter. Instead, you gave the hairs atop his head a bit of a tug. A warning.

A grunt left him, his eye wincing a little from the sensation but his wit outran any sort of complaint, “Pineapple! Oh— right we aren’t doing anything like that.” He still shot you a half-hearted look. All the playing around didn’t get him anything but a gentle expression though, a soft look in your eye that said that you would put up with him more than he could ever dream of.

A look he’d seen, but never truly appreciated. He wasn’t quite sure if he did so, even now.

“I would tell you to stop being stupid, but I know I could never stop that.”

“Wow, thanks.”

The way you leaned down to give press a kiss atop his forehead spoke to the fact that you never meant any malice or exasperation in their words. Sure, there was bound to be exhaustion, everyone had breaking points. You were always so lenient with him. Even if you wouldn’t admit that yourself.

Suppose in a way, they understood each other like that.

House didn’t react much to the kiss. You gave a lot of those, so. He didn’t say anything though, so that was either a good indication or a bad indication. 50/50, who knows maybe you should flip a coin.

“Good day at the hospital?” You mumbled, slowly twirling the short strands on his head, coiling them around your fingers. House’s face visibly relaxed, only flexing and moving as he responded. “Oh, yeah, like Santa’s little workshop there. Bundle of joy, fun bright lights.” He muttered, eyes closing for a moment.

Everyone knew that his days were full of pain. He made sure everyone knew, actually. Always made sure that everyone had to be dragged down with him. With you though, he toned it down. Just a little bit.

Your hand caressed the side of his face, gliding down the rough surface and down his scraggly beard. Mindless shapes formed along his skin, his eyes trained on your face. Whether your face would contort the longer you looked at him. As if waiting for you to have a revelation of your own— that he wasn’t who you wanted to spend your time with. That’d you’d wake up soon. Wake up from the dream you seemed so content with, him in your lap and the carefulness of your gestures.

“Something on my face?” Your hand trailed back up to his cheekbone, before pinching the skin there. A smile on your face, for him. For a moment, he stayed silent. Lips that were once parted were now pursed into a tight line, furrow of his brows suggested that he was thinking again.

The longer you waited though, the lighter your touch became. As if you were drawing back. An end to a gentle moment.

“No,” his hands shot up, taking yours in his own. His eyes firm, before they would soften and close as he brought your hands to his face. “Keep it this way a little longer.” For once, not a quip. A moment of genuine love, one that came out of him thinking this was all but fleeting.

In reality, you hardly moved at all.

You were just going to shift, hopefully making him more comfortable if he had felt the position a little awkward. Instead he cradled your hands as if they were the one thing keeping him off his pills. Even just for a short amount of time. Your shoulders went lax, tilting your head as you gave a faint smile. “Okay.” Was all you said.

“I’d rather have you touch me than the old reliables here,” one of his hands let go, giving a bit of a jazzy shake as if to emphasize, “god knows I’ve touched myself enough. Your hands are softer.” You snorted.

“I don’t doubt it.”

[cryptid-killjoy]

Good memories seemed to be a theme this Halloween, not frights, or jump scares, and horror movies. No. It was a theme. It didn't just seem. Valerie didn't mind. All the memories were wrapped up in costumes and dresses. Valerie felt good memories' warmth every which way she turned all evening. This whole season would be a delight for her actually. Whether it started with on pins and needles or not. This was perfect as far as she was concerned from rewriting over more old memories that could use a boost to reliving some of the best that refuse to be forgotten. What a magical season it would forever remain in her mind. Every step along the path to the car made her feel as light as a Winehouse song in her heart. She loved how floaty she felt right now.

Then the way Eeyore's face lit up seeing her husband's felt like sipping some of her gifted tea customized just for her by his sophisticated tastes. All she could do was smile as the pair conversed for a short moment. Another moment in time gone by. Another story's end finally known. Eeyore was waddling around Feral, possibly the Forbidden Forest of Hundred Acre Wood, maybe around the Nevers? He was still donkey boy-ing around with his emo bangs quiet as ever minding his own business like always, even after death in his ghost state. It was so fitting, probably trailing after Pan barely keeping up 20 feet behind looking for his glasses or his tail depending on his form, like nothing ever happened. So, so fitting.

“It’s snowing still. And freezing. However, we haven’t had a hurricane lately.” Eeyore would say with some lift of his spirits actually looking on the bright side in his Eeyore-type way. So, maybe Thomas was right? Eeyore was in good spirits in spirit form and that did count for something.

But that Eeyore in him couldn't stop himself from saying, "What goes up must come down."

Valerie looked over to Thomas and slipped her arm around his waist under his jacket line. "That sounds perfect. Until next time, Eeyore." She gave him a little wave as they turned to keep going not truly taking in what the donkey had said until they stepped fully out the doors.

Snow? For real.

It wasn't just an autumn chill out there. There was snow out there. Her eyes were catching it just as she leaned into whisper, "Please make sure those hips must come down on me tonight." She was making a little joke of Eeyore's passive gloom when the snow popped her head right back up.

"Oh my. Wow." Her mouth hung open at the sight around them as every hair rose along with goose bumped skin and the shiver she hadn't expected. She shimmied her head at the sight because there was no way that was natural. "Someone's doing maaaaaagick."

"How fun."

She didn't know why, and she honesty didn't care. What she knew was it was awesomely great power and that was always impressive. She couldn't help but give a little head nod of thrill towards it. She loved that magic shit. Not to mention it wasn't hard to deduce there was only so many people who could pull something like this off. Maybe even only one. After all Flotsam had been through with that person it was one more beautiful portrait of a landscape to view, a past picture, an image pulled to the now. She was in control. That felt so good inside somehow even if they weren't part of whatever path she had to follow to make that happen. That's all that went through Valerie's head. They'd not seen anything this grand that wasn't destructive from them since they were a teenager aside from the Battle of the Star People, but that of course was also destructive.

She didn't want to be a monster. Part of Flotsam had the same mentality. Except he embraced the monstrosity within. She learned to love the monster within herself. Maybe Elsa wouldn't think of it that way, but that's all Valerie could see from their experience with all this, and it was one of the most beautiful winter scenes they'd ever seen just because of it. The dangerously beautiful in the most delicate ways. Elsa's voice came into her head when she said. "I see you" to Valerie. It was something that mattered to Valerie on so many levels. She kept that one locked inside special. As Valerie looked out at this magnificent display, she said it softly to herself, "I see you, girl. I see you."

Then she kept walking with Thomas on. Then she'd see Elsa out there. She'd try to wave goodbye despite the large distance between them. Then Valerie would use sign language to pass an I. C. and pointed at her before walking on curled into Thomas. She didn't know if Elsa would even understand the reference or how much that meant to Valerie or what Valerie might be referring to seeing in her, but it was something the Flotsam in them, and Valerie in them just naturally had to pass on.

They'd travel to the inn.

The Inn was one of the places left alone in Feral. It was more or less left as it was pre-Feral. However, Kuzco, Piper, and Maddy had done a lot of altering. It had become Feral's main hub for most imports and exports since there weren't that many guests coming and going to use the rooms. However, ever since Frank started in on letting some randoms in there have been a few people attempting to use the place like a modern society still exists striving to not be lost to the void of abandoned homes in the ghost town left behind. So, the couple that ran the inn did extend the business to the building next door which wasn't a big deal. It was obviously empty too and started to use that for the post office and reverted The Inn back to mostly Inn mode. Call it an extended business model.

All that said, to see Thomas and Valerie walk in, actual guests, this was a grand day for them. So, they'd be treated like VIP guests from the moment the door would open. If anything, they'd get the kind of treatment they get when going to their favorite hotel in New Zealand only they weren't regulars here. They'd act like they were celebrities though. That's how slow business was. They mostly dealt in pizza orders to Funky Town.

Now when Valerie entered the room they were given and gave it a good look over she wasn't disappointed per sae. It was just another blast from the past. Everything about the room said Nola to her.

It was plain and cold. From the hard floors to the brick walls. Even the sheets. The place could use a little jazzing up. She thought to herself the Motel 6 at least put in some tacky photographs to liven the place up. But Nola often had that appeal, the bland and mysterious. Good craftsmanship, architecture with story and history, but to the eyes in her opinion rather cold. It was a rather sad room actually. At least it was until her joy of the night walked into it. There was however an actual chill from the room not being used in some time.

She looked over at Thomas and plopped down in her dress as the most colorful thing in the room, with all her fluffy black and orange, and bright eyes. She wanted to lounge around in whatever she had on underneath sounded just fine to her.

"I'm dying to get out of this thing, love. Help me get the back?"

Then she turned her back to him so he could help her with the zipper so she could be comfortable for the night. This was also when Scout's texts would start coming in for Thomas about whether to eat people or grind people into dust or not in Feral.

Valerie's magic shared sight wasn't focused. Sure, her kids were there behind her eyes somewhere, but with enough practice it was easy enough to zone it out when she wanted to focus on her own window to her own life. So, nothing out of the blue was garnering her attention enough to jar her out of her dazey evening yet. The kids blasting zombies hardly felt like a cause for alarm.

“It’s totally fine, love,” Thomas said, keeping close to Valerie as they started to walk into the night. Going down the mountainside. It was more chilly out here than expected, and unknown to them, it was Elsa on the other side towards the beach, creating something beautiful for Bastien’s and Maddy’s eyes. “Being here makes me want to take you back to our old home too.”

He loved their new house, obviously. It was entirely theirs. No Cinderella. No Jetsam either, other than the small hints of him that were here and there, mostly in Scout’s room. The twins were grown up and with their own houses, so there were pieces of them too but not as big as there had been in the house that they had grown up in. But he did still like the original house, because it was there that he had met Valerie for the first time, where he had seen her all dolled up and performing an Amy Winehouse song, and where he fell in love with Flotsam, and where they planned a war on goddamn Star People and WON. There were a lot of good memories associated there.

He was just thinking about taking off his jacket and putting it around Valerie’s shoulders, give her that extra warmth, maybe even offer to carry her down the mountain with those high heels that she was wearing, when something, or rather, someone, seemed to capture her attention.

Eeyore - now that was a name that he hadn’t heard in quite some time.

His own blue eyes settled on his former pan-pal. They had seen each other a couple of times in person since those letters all that time ago. He still had a few, he thought, tucked away into one of the boxes of sentimental things that he had brought from NOLA during the move over to New Zealand. They weren’t the rough kind of sentimental. He hadn’t had a falling out with the guy.

He lifted up a friendly hand up to Eeyore, a boyish grin on his own face. “Hello, my writing friend. Nice to see you.”

He really hadn’t thought too much about Eeyore in the past couple of years, he was loathe to admit. Hadn’t really thought about where he might have ended up. He knew that the boy was close with Cinderella, and probably had been grieving her loss but… well, not much other than that. He felt a bit bad about it. Of course the poor boy was deceased, but he did look happier now than he had ever seen him. That counted for something, right?

Oh. Poor boy. Poor, poor boy. Didn’t even realize what he was. Without asking Valerie, he was following her line of thought. It was probably better not to push that point.

He gave a little chuckle at Valerie’s cover. “Thomases can’t fly either,” He added. “Though with this lovely lady by my side, sometimes it feels like anything is possible.”

He put his arm around his wife, pulling her in closer, and kissed her cheek as he says this, and then notices her chill. Without a word, he pulls off his jacket and settles it around her shoulders, able to take that bit of a chill. “There you go, love. Let’s get you to the inn and we can…” He raised his eyebrows. “Warm up together.”

[iliketopgun]

hi, my darling!! can i request “You getting so flustered is one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen.” with evan buckley?

i have been obsessed with him for so long (lmao as if it isn't obvious-) and i NEED more of him!!

"Honey Honey!"

Can I kiss your brain? I love this!!!!

🩷 "Nuestra Canción" send me some cute fluff prompts for characters that I write, x reader or my OCs are allowed.

Word count: 560

The prompt: "You getting flustered is one of the cutest things I've ever seen."

A/N: Never written for x reader before so here goes nothing. Legitimately don't know where this came from, deviated a bit from the prompt btw, I had a lot of fun writing this!

Warnings: female!reader, tooth rotting fluff, I totally didn't have Mamma Mia! on repeat while writing this (I'm lying so much), domesticity, curls are here, reader is a part of the 118, a curse word or two, Buck and reader live together, Buck calls his S/O "Baby" and other pet names, Buck is shirtless (yes, suffer), reader's favorite food is grilled cheese (if it's not, I'm sorry), kissing does happen, not beta read

Banner belongs to @/cafekitsune

Do not repost anywhere else or use it to train AI! This is my work! My own brain created this. Don't be a plagiarizer!

Here we go! Safe under the cut!

Buck could've sworn he was the luckiest son of a bitch in the whole world. His girlfriend was insanely good looking. And her music taste was impeccable. Buck could stare at her all day and never grow tired of her. Yeah, to say he was down bad was a major understatement. But who could blame him, when you looked like a goddess?

Buck was making dinner when you came in from a shift at the 118, it had been a simple 12 hour overtime shift for some extra money, but it had been so uneventful, it took a toll on you. The utter anxiety for the bell that never rang that entire shift. You kick off your work boots by the door, putting your keys in the dish by the door and putting your bag on the floor, you'll get it later. You unbutton your uniform shirt and tug it off, leaving you in a white undershirt. "I'm home!" You call out as you walk into the kitchen of the loft, watching your boyfriend cook. Buck turns around, in your tiredness, you didn't notice that Buck was shirtless and he hadn't gelled his curls back. Was he trying to kill you? Well even if he was you were sure, you'd die really happy. "Oh, hey baby, I'm making your favorite. Grilled cheese." Buck says with a smile, it was adorable. So attentive. "Mmmm, I love you. You're the best." You tell him with as much appreciation you could muster. Your nerves were shot to hell and you just wanted to eat and sleep. Buck takes notice of this and guides you to the couch, wraps you in a blanket and walks to the kitchen, leaving you confused. "Buck? What are you doing?" You ask between a laugh. Buck puts the grilled cheese on a plate and comes back into the living room with the plate and hands it to you. "Eat. Wanna watch Mamma Mia?" Buck asks you, knowing it was one of your favorites. You nod as you bite into the grilled cheese, moaning in appreciation. Buck smiles at you and kisses your forehead. Buck puts the movie on and sits beside you on the couch, placing you in his lap and cuddling you. He was like a personal space heater. But right now you don't care about anything except food and Buck. The movie starts and you finish your food up after a few minutes. You get up and place your dirty dishes in the dishwasher before running up the loft stairs to grab your pajamas. You were walking down the stairs while adjusting your Buck's shirt when the beach scene came on. No matter how many times you watched it, it still made you flush like a little girl. Buck picks up on that. "Are you blushing?" He teases and "N-no!" You stammer, before playfully tossing a pillow at him. "You wound me, darling!" Buck says dramatically while holding his hand over his heart. "Oh shush, you're fine. Plus you deserve it for walking around shirtless!" You reply before walking towards him. "You getting flustered is probably the cutest thing I've ever seen." Buck says as you stand in between his legs while he looks at you with those cerulean blue eyes and you try not to melt. "Oh shut up, Buckley!" You tell him before kissing him.

The end!

I hope you enjoyed it!

[carmenserenity123456]

Sasuke never kissed Sakura

The proof of this is Gaiden. Little Sarada asks Sakura very fundamental question which is “did you ever kiss dad?” and look at Sakura’s face expressions. First she is shocked like why would she be shocked at such simple question if her marriage is good. Then we have sadness on her face which answers Sarada’s question. She never kissed Sasuke and she is very sad about it but in the third panel she starts thinking and blushing. She did not want to make Sarada sad but also she wanted to keep her delusion about Sasuke loving her so she comes up with the poke.

I wrote a long post about Itachi’s poke and what it means but to summarize, it is not a gesture of love but it is a polite way to say no to a child and the poke is always used in that context. Sasuke rejected yet again Sakura advances but he did it in a nice way by poking her. Of course she does not know anything about Sasuke and Itachi so she thought that it meant something romantic. It was the one and only time when Sasuke gave her some physical affection. Look how she uses it on Sarada, she does not know what it means at all.

What is even more important is that she says it is something better but again Kishi decided to mock her by the end of the Gaiden. To give better context lets look at how Sakura lies about her feeling being connected to Sasuke. Again Sarada asks Sakura another fundamental question about her marriage and after using violence and scaring her daughter because no one can question her delusions even her daughter, she says that her and Sasuke’s feelings are connected with the same fake smile that she gave Sai during the war arc. Why did she have this fake smile? because she does not truly believe it herself and one of the reasons why, is that Sasuke never gave her any physical affection like real couples do which is also kissing.

Even when Sasuke says that his feelings are connected to Sakura because they have Sarada (he basically states that they are together because of her) Sakura again has this fake smile/expression. She is not 100% sure.

Now lets go to the family dinner. This scene is so awkward. Sarada is happy because Sasuke is at home but look at him. He looks so done and miserable. Sakura does not look even better. It looks like they are playing before Sarada and Sakura does not feel comfortable. Also we can see that Sasuke stayed with his family only one night and the next day he was out.

Given this context, we can come back to the end of Gaiden. Sasuke is saying goodbye to Sarada and Sakura with her fake smile gives him bento. She literally wants to prevent him from giving her poke instead she wants a kiss. We know that if Sakura gave him this blushing expression he would poke her right away to not give her a kiss but here she thought she won. Now Sarada can see that he kissed her but unfortunately for her Sasuke is not stupid and he turns away. If the poke is so much better in her opinion then why do this shit show? Because she knows that a kiss is better and fundamental in the relationship. She does not understand the meaning of the poke and it does not satisfy her. She wanted Sasuke’s kiss her whole life, it was one of her goals and you think that poke makes up for it? Also why is she blushing so much if, as ss states, she gets kisses and love from Sasuke all the time. He stayed the night so why she is so desperate.

Summing up, Sasuke never kissed her or showed her any physical affection at all. I can even bet that they had sex one time during Sarada’s making and it was loveless and not passionate. Very quick to do the job basically. That is why Sakura does not believe in her connection to Sasuke and she fakes it, she is so desperate for his touch. Sasuke learned to tolerate her and to be nice to her only when she does not come between his plans and goals. His face shows it all when Sakura appeared in Gaiden when he was doing his job. He was annoyed, angry and wanted to tell her the hard truth. Lastly, I’d like to think that Sasuke will never kiss her because he got his kiss from the person he truly loves and it is Naruto.

[zigrethsnotebook]

[INVERTED KISS]

Bill x Reader

words: 864

tags: sfw, Bill developed a crush on you and hates it

a/n: sort of a continuation of [FOOT KISS] but not really important

“Sparky~!” The demon called out the pet name he had chosen for you and your stomach dropped. This couldn’t be anything good. Bill appeared in front of you, his body shrinking to a smaller version of him, smaller than you even. You furrowed your brows in confusion - he’d never done that before.

“All my maniacs are out for the next couple of hours, so we’re all alone… do you know what that means?” You shook your head ‘no’. His tone was more playful than usual, he seemed to be in a good mood. Still, it was hard to agree with him that you were ‘alone’ considering the literal mountain of people behind him he had sculpted into a throne.

“Hmm…,” he pretended to be thinking, tapping his index finger to where a chin might be. “Well, I’ve been browsing through your mind while you were sleeping-” Oh, god. He can do that? Your blood ran cold at the thought. “-and I saw that you were really into this spider-man guy when his movies came out.”

Your eyes widened. If he knew that then he also knew how much you were afraid of spiders - the animal. Internally, you begged that he wouldn’t cover you in spiders or something like that, just to laugh at you. His one eye never left your face, always scanning for every little reaction to his words. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“Either way, I decided we should recreate that scene you daydreamed about so often! Wouldn’t that be fun?” Before you could protest or even process his words, he had already snapped his fingers, conjuring two new chains that wrapped around your ankles and lifted you up into the air. A yelp escaped your lips at the sudden movement and you heard Bill chuckle.

Once your body had settled in the air you realized what he was suggesting. “Wait. The kiss?” The demon flew up to your face, locking eyes with you. “Was there a different scene you daydreamed about? Maybe I should take another look…” He floated a little closer and you gasped. “No!” Bill chuckled, floating backwards a couple of inches. “Yeah, I’m just messing with ya, Sparky.”

You sighed in relief, already feeling a little feeble form hanging upside down. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still going to kiss ya.” “What? Why?” And exactly how was he planning to do that without a mouth? “Because! You humans! Are always going on and on about kissing and being in love and all that nonsense. And I… I want to know what I’m rejecting.”

He… frowned? Bill seemed disheartened somehow. Was he serious? “Why me?” The words left your lips before you could think better of it. He locked eyes with you again. “Because you’re the only human who’s any fun to be around,” he admitted in a quieter tone. A blush formed on your cheeks. Must be because you’ve been hanging upside down for so long, with all your blood running to your head, you decided.

“So I… I mean it’s not like I care what you want or don’t want or whatever,” he argued, clearly trying to come to terms with wanting this himself. “But, like… can I?” His voice was so quiet, you almost didn’t catch it over the sound of your ears buzzing. This time there was no denying why you were blushing. How were you falling for him? He’s a demon!!

“Yes.” You breathed the word but Bill’s eye widened immediately. He floated closer to you again, his eye turning into a mouth in a horrific transformation that would surely come back to haunt you. When it had fully transformed, aside from his eyelashes that were still attached to his lips (which would surely make this even weirder) he began closing the gap between you two.

Bill’s eyelashes-turned-beard(?) lightly grazed your lips causing you to gasp. His little bowtie was touching the tip of your nose. It was so much weirder than you’d thought it would be. But, if only for the sake of not passing out from hanging upside down, you also wanted this to be over as quickly as possible.

His hands were surprisingly soft against your jaw as he guided your face towards his. When your lips met you felt a tingling sensation in them, and you didn’t care to find out whether you were imagining it or he was doing that on purpose.

You sighed into the kiss. Against your better judgment, you were enjoying this. It was a nice change of pace from the chaos that surrounded you every day. Right now, it was only your lips against his, with fine hairs tickling your chin and too much blood in your head to think straight.

When Bill broke the kiss you kept your eyes closed a second longer, so you wouldn’t have to see the transformation again, and totally not because the kiss had left you slightly dizzy.

Without another word he slowly and carefully brought you back on the ground, right side up and all. The chains on your ankles vanished and so did Bill. You didn’t see him again for the rest of the day.

[durtystars]

i agree with a lot, heavily on the fact that he was a good leader. one of the biggest arguments against him is that "he would get everyone killed" but.....he was already taking care of an entire group of people that were nearly 12 in number (if not that number in the first place) well before rick came into the picture. that reddit post could be right regarding the show, but the comic creator said that rick was asleep for an entire month (if not, i know it was said somewhere regarding the timeline of twd video games) so even if the show wanted to backtrack and say shane was a bad leader, they already showed literally in the first two episodes that start it off that he's not. in addition, if you read the official TV scripts of S1, in the scene of them in front of the lab and they don't have an answer after knocking on the door, daryl says "Everything was fine until this guy showed up." one of the weirdest and hardest things in twd to understand and accept was rick's sudden transferal of leadership, as if the group knew and trusted him better than shane the entire time. and during this time, rick is making horrible mistakes. but if you look in the deleted scenes of S1, rick heavily relies on shane for guidance on what to do, which ACTUALLY makes sense. i have no idea why these scenes were deleted. even if they were cut for time, they could have made some other scenes in S2 to show the rick/shane dynamic.

i don't agree that shane lied about rick. for one thing it doesn't make sense for him to save his life at the chance that he can come back and then lie about it, and as for why he never cleared it up is because he knew how bad it looked regardless, so he didn't bother. and of course as his character is deeply sensitive he was too ridden with guilt for loving lori so he let her believe it to make it easier to cut her out of his life.

i'm glad you brought up that shane always had rick's back. even in the scene when he had his gun pointed at him, i interpret it in the sense of him thinking of offing him because he's simply to weak for this world, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. i defend lori and give her a LOT of slack, but it must have been a special tormenting hell for him to face rick and her never supporting him when all he wanted was everyone to be safe. the rest of the group was affecting him as well, but lori and rick are something special to him, of course.

in my first watch (i think it was around covid days), i completely agreed with shane and was absolutely blown away that everyone was treating him like he was crazy. this was during the last stutter of the era of hating S2 as it was regarded as the most boring season, so when i looked around online to see if i was crazy i wasn't met with anything of the contrary. nowadays, S2 has been regarded in a much better light and has been for at least the past 2 years and while shane was always popular you definitely see more support of him in the ways of YT videos, and even if there's no support it's still in the breakdown of his character because he truly has so much to give as he is and through jon's performance.

i always say that while i believe S1 to be a masterful display of TV, S2 is the one that really brings out the discussion with the viewers. you said you couldn't watch shane's death scene, on my first time i couldn't either. i had no idea he even died because i was so outraged he was being isolated the way he was. i literally skipped up to the end of the episode because i was so adamant on his obvious road to death. so instead i turned all the way back to 2x1 and asked my mother to watch it with me, just to see how crazy i really was. that's why i say S2 is the one that actually brings out real discussion. my mother did agree with me, but we still had interesting conversations while watching it. i told her that she didn't need to watch the rest of the show with me, but she decided to stay for the rest of the journey (now she's watched the entire show and almost all the spinoffs and it's completely in love with the daryl show). but the thing is, as some of these things will go, my mother was telling what happened with me to my father, and so she convinced him to also watch S2, for which he stayed with for 6 more seasons. S1 is the one that pulls you in, but S2 is the one that makes you stay. and you are not going to convince me that it's not because of anything other than shane's character and jon's performance. we talk of shane very casually in the twd fandom, but in the outside of things he's a character that died in the second season of a 10+ season show and was barely mentioned again. and yet in this context, he's THE most talked about and relevant character in the franchise. the twd creator just talked about making a comic prequel surrounding him, lori and carl this year as well. no other character died as early as he did and have remained at such an impactful level, not a single one comes close.

now, me and my mother still rewatch S2, and find new realizations about his character. S2 is the most viewed, most rewatched and most discussed season in my house. every single time, it's brutal to see shane's degradation. and yet he became the groundwork of the show. he also still lives on in the characters. rick, daryl, carol and maggie are alive because of him. whether the writers mean it, whether the actors mean it or not, they have manifested his harsh way of living within them one way or another. and yes, carl is gone but he's still worth a mention as he voiced his mourning of him and how much he missed him. yes, i would prefer if shane stayed alive for at least one more season. but it's his leaving the show so soon that shows how much his presence stayed deep in the cracks of the show.

I’d love to hear your thoughts on why Shane is the best character in TWD 😊

Cause he's my baby and he's hot and I love him and that's good enough of a reason 😂 

But if you want something more logical, perhaps for a lot of reasons people tend to overlook… First, something that always bugs me is how little acknowledge there is of him actually stepping into the role of a leader for months before Rick showed up. As far as I know, no one in that group stepped in like he did. For the few interactions we saw, everyone would come to him for answers, and while he wasn’t always very diplomatic, he had good survival instincts and kept the group safe for months. Perhaps staying at the quarry wouldn’t have worked in the long run, but it was a plan nonetheless. 

He was right most of the time. He figured out pretty quickly how things were after the infection, and adapted a new mindset. He had to make tough decisions nobody was ready for yet, and maybe he pushed too hard instead of giving people time to get into that same headspace. And we see in later seasons that almost everyone thinks in a similar way Shane did, they just have different approaches. 

and it keeps going under the cut...

I recently saw a timeline in a subreddit or somewhere else that said the events from season 1 and 2 happened in the span of 2 or 3 weeks and that's crazy to me. So they were seemingly doing good, and they found Rick, everyone automatically herd to him, and everything until that point didn’t really matter anymore. That really pisses me off that he was just killed a few weeks later because they couldn’t sit down and talk things over. All and that, and despite him being driven for his misplaced love for Lori, he was still loyal to Rick in his own way. Did he question Rick’s leadership? Yes, countless times. Did he also follow his lead every single time? Also yes.

Which leads me to my next point. He also kept Rick safe. In the hospital flashback, he went in and saw what was happening and amidst all the chaos he still tried to get him out. When he couldn't, he did the only thing he could, he locked the door and barricade it. Did he know that would keep him safe? Probably no. He had absolutely no idea, but he was driven by getting them all out, and when he couldn’t get him out, he did the best he could to get Lori and Carl out of town. If he hadn't lied about Rick, Lori wouldn’t have agreed to leave him behind. Again, tough situations led to hard decisions.

And one of the hardest decisions he made was killing Otis to save Carl. He didn’t murder him in cold blood, he was with him until the end, killing him wasn’t something that crossed his mind until the very last second when he had no choice. If he hadn’t, Carl wouldn’t have gotten the care he needed. BUT people tend to paint him as a murderer for shooting him in the leg. It wasn’t right, but it was the only way out at that moment. I recently revisited one of my fics and wrote that Shane sacrificed his soul to saved Carl that day and I still agree with that. I don’t think he purposely hurt someone before unless he was defending himself. And from that moment on, you could see it changed him and didn’t know how to deal with that, which led him to his own demise.

Was he an asshole sometimes? Yes. Did he do or say things in a way I didn’t agree with? Yes. Did I ever want to slap him? Many times. But there was something about him, compared to other antagonists later on the show, that made him more realistic to me. He wasn’t driven by wanting to be right all the time or even being the leader. His misguided love for Carl and Lori, was at its core the things that he cared the most about and that he wanted to protect at all costs. And while I cared for neither, I think it was beautiful of him. 

I can never watch his last moments. For me, he got the right idea at the beginning of season 2 when started considering leaving the group on his own. I wish he had done that, even if that meant leaving the show. 

I’m probably forgetting something here cause I haven’t rewatched in years, but I think that’s it. Like I’ve said, I didn’t pay much attention to him the first time around, I did agree with him most of the time, it was his manners that left a lot to be desired. It wasn’t until my love for Frank got me to go back and watch some of his previous performances that I got to see Shane in a new light. 

In conclusion, he’s still the best character to me, and everyone should love him like I do. Or not. More Shane for me if you don’t. 

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - never been good at goodbyes

⚠︎TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠︎ : Car accident, Death, Crying, Grieving, Funeral, Slight Depressive State, Slight Descriptive scenes, and More.

Other Information : This will start off with Matt’s pov then switch to readers. PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS FANFICTION AND NOT REAL LIFE. Matt is still very much alive and will be for years.

⚠︎THIS CONTENT BELOW MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR SOME READERS. VIEWERS DISCRETION IS ADVISED. IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING IN THE WARNINGS PLEASE DO NOT READ OR READ AT YOUR OWN RISK⚠︎

Matt’s POV

Matt normally never had bad bad days, always being able to keep himself under control and keep things from getting to him. It was something he’d grown so used to doing after years of practicing and years of therapy. But, not all days were days he was able to control — and though that bothered him, he knew it wasn’t always something he could control.

Today had been a particularly stressful day for matt. There were meetings upon meetings and overall he just wasn’t feeling the best all day. He never liked to blame the way he was feeling on his anxiety, but he couldn’t help to think that maybe something happened this morning that just ticked him off and made him feel off all day.

So he decided to take a late night drive, after dropping nick and chris off at home. Matt’s hands gripped the steering wheel, his fingers tapping along to the rhythm of the music playing from his playlist. The streets were quiet tonight, then again, he did decide to drive through the country side so he didn’t have to deal with other cars and people.

As he steered the car on the smooth roads, he could feel his mind starting to become more at ease. His mind now thinking about you and how he was ready to tell you about his day once he got home. It wasn’t often that matt didn’t text you before he did anything, and he didn’t text you to tell you he was going out for a drive — his mind being too caught up in his thoughts before hand.

As he continued to drive, his phone buzzed from the passenger seat, and he smiled to himself, already guessing it was you. You were probably wondering why he hadn’t texted you at all yet — or goodnight yet. He resisted the urge to pick his phone up, knowing that was too dangerous, telling himself he’d text back once he was home. Just a few more minutes, he thought.

You always texted him if he wasn’t responding in the normal times he did, but a lot of the time you understood why he didn’t answer or why he couldn’t. He could probably already assume that you typed out a little thing about him not texted and then a good night — since you weren’t one to stay up too late like he was.

Matt continued to hum and tap his fingers along to the music, watching as little droplets of rain his his windshield in tiny patters — which caused his to reach and turn the windshield wipers on.

The roads started to become damp from the rain as the downpour started to pick up and his headlights cut through the darkness as he rounded a bend. There wasn’t much light along the road, his only source being his headlights in from of him and how they reflected off the road signs. But, when he went to make a particularly sharp turn — thinking he had it — he lost control of the car.

He felt the tires slip, the car skidding on a patch of wet road. His heart lurched as he tried to steady the wheel, but it was too late. The car spun, a flash of panic shooting through him as he lost control, his mind racing to make sense of what was happening.

“Fuck — Fuck Come on,” he shouted, desperately trying to regain control. But the car kept sliding, veering and turning. And as the car hurtled forward, time seemed to slow, and he felt a strange, overwhelming calm settle over him. He knew it was too late, and honestly all he could think of was your face, the warmth of your smile, the love you shared. In that moment, everything else faded away, and all he could think of was you.

He wished he could see you one last time, to hold you, to tell you just how much you meant to him. A small, bittersweet smile tugged at his lips, a final act of love as the world around him dissolved. He felt tears well in his eyes and slip down his face as his eyes quickly caught a glimpse of bright headlights heading straight for him.

“I love you,” he whispered, just as everything went dark.

Your POV

You slowly stirred in bed, the gloomy light pouring into your room through the blinds. You were by no means a morning person, and you never have been.

You groaned, turning to stretch your legs and arms as you snuggled deeper into the blankets before opening your eyes. The light wasn’t too harsh, considering it had been raining all night so it didn’t take you long to adjust before you were reaching over to your night stand and grabbing your phone from the charger.

You squinted as you turned your phone on, yes the light from day didn’t bother you — but the phone screen was a whole other story. You looked at the time 11:24am before slowly unlocking it, hoping to see a notification or two from matt in your messages, but to your surprise there wasn’t any. None responding to your texts from last night either — maybe he just got really busy again?

Furrowing your brow, your fingers typed across your keyboard, sending him a quick

Good morning love! Hope you slept well. Text me when you’re up?

Before setting your phone down on the bed beside you. It wasn’t — strange — per say for him to not text you for this long, but you understood that sometimes he just got too busy to check his phone for long periods of time. With a sigh you pulled the covers off of your body, swinging your legs over the side of your bed as you sat up.

You had some things you needed to do today — grocery shopping, dropping some things off by the local animal shelter and a few straggler errands. Your hands rubbed your face, stretching once more before you rose to your feet, pattering your way over to your bathroom to get your things ready for a shower.

You couldn’t help but to think of matt, i mean why hadn’t he texted? or why hadn’t his brother said anything to you in place of matt texting? You shook your head, looking into the mirror briefly. ‘I’m sure i’ll hear from him at some point’

You turned away, reaching the shower as you turned the knob to hot, closing the curtains as steam filled the room. You discarded your clothes, stepping into the hot water — your muscles relaxing slightly as the water cascaded down your body. It both woke you up, but it tempted you to fall back asleep — though you couldn’t and continued on to wash your hair.

Once your shower was done, it was around 12:30pm and you rushed to get dressed. Grabbing a plain white shirt and some black sweat pants, slipping on matt’s red zip up jacket. You grabbed a pair of socks, sitting on the edge of your bed as you slipped them on along with your shoes — quickly getting up and grabbing your phone from the bed.

You checked your notification board, but there still wasn’t anything from matt. You felt a pang in your chest, but pushed it aside, sending one more text before you were out your bedroom door — making your way into the living room.

I hope you’re doing okay baby! I have to run some errands so i may not text much. Love you bunches! ❤️

Your steps were small, striding toward the front door as you grabbed your bag and the keys to your car. You paused for a moment, feeling like you were forgetting something — but after trying to wrack your brain, you came up empty handed. So, you walked out your front door, closing it and locking it behind you before making your way to your car.

Slipping into the drivers seat, you started the engine, your eyes catching a glimpse of something in your passenger seat. You stared at it curiously before picking it up — it was one of matt’s rings, wedged into the seat. You held it up, smiling to yourself at matt’s forgetfulness in leaving things laying around. ‘I’ll just have to give this back to him later’

You thought for a minute of what to do with his ring before deciding to put it on your finger. After situating it, you put the car in reverse, making sure to look behind you as you pulled out of your driveway. You had a pretty packed day ahead, but all you could think about was hopefully seeing matt at the end of the day.

4:45pm

You were utterly exhausted, pulling your car back into your driveway you had left hours ago. It felt as if the day had dragged on, still no messages from matt which was starting to worry you. You had even sent chris and nick both messages asking if they knew where he was or if they were busy — but they hadn’t responded either.

You parked your car, turning the engine off as you stepped out of the drivers side door. Quickly, you popped the trunk, wanting to grab all the groceries and take them inside in one go. Which was … pretty successful, you had a few items slip, but got them inside without much of a fuss.

You grunted as you carried the groceries inside, closing the front door with your foot before making your way over to the kitchen. Setting down the bags, you started to unload them, making sure to set aside the items you were using to cook dinner.

7:15pm

It had been all day — all day and matt still hadn’t texted you back. You started to grow worried, he had never gone with long without texting you — and neither did his brothers. This pit formed in your stomach, the feeling making you feel absolutely sick to your stomach.

Suddenly, you heard a knock on your door — the sound snapping you from your thoughts. Your body moved from the couch, rushing to open it, hoping to see Matt standing there, laughing at how worried you’d been. But when you swung the door open, you found Nick and Chris standing there, their faces pale, eyes rimmed red. The air around them felt heavy, as if carrying an invisible weight that fell on you the moment you looked into their eyes.

“Hey,” Nick started, his voice thick, barely holding back the tremor. Chris had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his head down as though he couldn’t bring himself to look at you.

Your heart began to race. “What’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Where’s Matt? I’ve been trying to reach him — and you guys all day! but none of you have been answering me.”

Chris looked away, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before Nick stepped forward. “Can we come in?” Nick’s voice was strained, like each word physically hurt him. The pit in your stomach felt almost too much right now, filling every corner of your mind.

You stepped aside, and they entered quietly. As you sat down on the couch, Nick and Chris took seats across from you. For a moment, there was only silence. The two of them shared a look, and you could see that neither of them wanted to say what they’d come here to tell you.

Chris was the first to speak. “Last night, Matt… he… he was driving,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “He… there was an accident.”

You stared at them, every word hitting you like a punch to the gut. “Is he okay?” you asked, your voice a desperate whisper, searching their faces for any sign of hope. You wanted to hear that he was in the hospital, that he’d be okay, that they were just here to tell you he’d need time to recover.

Nick swallowed hard, his eyes filling with tears he couldn’t hold back any longer. “He… he didn’t make it.” he choked out, his teeth gritting together.

The room went silent, the words echoing around you, wrapping around your heart and squeezing until you couldn’t breathe. You stared at them, waiting for one of them to take it back, to tell you it was a horrible mistake, a cruel joke. But their broken expressions only confirmed the nightmare that was unfolding before you.

“No,” you murmured, shaking your head, tears blurring your vision. “No, that’s… that’s not possible. He was… he was just here yesterday.”

Chris reached out, placing a gentle hand on yours, his own voice choked with grief. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and you could see the pain etched deep into his face. “We came as soon as we could, we didn’t want you to find out any other way.”

You pulled your hand away, curling up on yourself, as though somehow shrinking would lessen the pain ripping through your chest. Every memory of him, every laugh, every touch, every whispered word flooded your mind, filling you with a love so intense it was unbearable.

Nick spoke softly, his voice breaking. “He loved you, you know? So much. He… he never stopped talking about you, how much you meant to him.” His words felt like a double-edged sword, cutting into you and yet comforting you at the same time.

You buried your face in your hands, sobbing as the reality of it all began to sink in. Matt was gone. The person who made you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, who held you close on quiet nights, who loved you more than anyone ever had… he was gone.

Chris wrapped his arm around you, holding you as you broke down, his own tears streaming down his face. Nick sat beside you, reaching over to place a reassuring hand on your shoulder, though his own strength was failing. The three of you sat there, bound together by your shared grief, the silence heavy with the weight of all the things left unsaid, all the future moments that would never come.

You shook as the sobs continued to wrack through your body, sniffling, you wiped your nose — desperate to try and find the right words. “Y-you — why…why didn’t y-you guys tell m-me sooner?” you gritted out, the tightness in your chest making it hard to speak. Nick and chris shook their heads, not being able to give a proper answer.

You knew they were feeling it too — he was their brothers. Your head rose out of your hands, tears streaking your face as you looked at them. Your arms coming up to wrap around them and hold them close to you. You all cried together — and as you looked over to chris, you noticed matt’s ring on your finger, and that made you break.

12:54am

Later that night, you found yourself scrolling through old messages, rereading his words, listening to his voice notes, clinging to every last piece of him you had left. His laugh, his voice, the way he always said “goodnight” and “I love you”—they all felt so close, yet impossibly distant.

You couldn’t help the tears that left your eyes every time you skimmed over the words — or listened to the recordings. Every time felt like a stab to your heart, like it was being chipped away at more and more. Your best friend was gone — the love of your life…your soulmate…and you would never see him again.

When you finally put your phone down — the tears hadn’t dried. Your head rested against your pillow as you wore matt’s hoodie, hugging a stuffed animal that he got you close to your chest — your fingers fiddling with the ring on your finger. Every time you thought of him, a new wave of tears fell down your face.

You didn’t get much sleep that night — or in the week that led up to his funeral.

One Week Later

The day of the funeral arrived much sooner than you were prepared for, though, in truth, you didn’t think any amount of time could have readied you. The past few days had passed in a fog, each moment blending into the next, leaving you feeling numb and disconnected from reality. It was as if a part of you had been ripped away, leaving a hollow space where Matt had once been. Now, you were about to say goodbye for the last time, and every step felt heavier than the last.

You stared at yourself in the mirror — the black dress you wore clung to your skin, and you desperately wanted to get out of it. But you couldn’t…not now at least. You hadn’t felt well enough to drive, so instead you had nick and chris send an uber — because you didn’t trust yourself.

The sky was overcast as you made your way to the cemetery, a dull gray that matched the ache inside you. There were people gathered around, friends and family, familiar faces etched with grief. As you approached, you saw Nick and Chris standing together, their faces pale and somber, each of them carrying their own unbearable weight. They looked up as you joined them, offering you small, broken smiles that only deepened the sorrow in your heart.

“Hey,” Nick said softly, pulling you into a gentle hug. You clung to him, feeling the grief between you, a shared wound that neither of you could heal.

Chris joined, wrapping his arms around the both of you, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into their strength. “He loved you so much,” Chris whispered, his voice cracking. “He’d want you to remember that.”

You nodded, unable to speak, afraid that if you opened your mouth, you’d break down entirely. Instead, you stayed close to them, feeling a strange comfort in their presence as you all prepared to say goodbye to someone you loved deeply.

The ceremony began shortly after, the words of the officiant filled the air, and you found yourself drifting back to memories of Matt. You remembered his laugh, the warmth of his embrace, the way he’d look at you like you were his whole world. Every shared moment played through your mind, each memory a bittersweet reminder of all you’d lost.

When it was time for people to come up and say a few words, you felt a lump form in your throat as Nick and Chris took turns sharing stories about Matt. They spoke of his kindness, his humor, his fierce loyalty, and the way he could make anyone feel like they mattered. Their words brought laughter through the tears, but it was the kind of laughter that hurt, a reminder of what could never be again.

And then, it was your turn. You hadn’t planned to speak, afraid that the words would betray you, that you’d fall apart in front of everyone. But as you looked at the faces of those who loved Matt, you realized that he’d want you to speak, to let the world know what he’d meant to you.

So With shaky steps, you walked to the front, your eyes falling on the casket. The reality of it hit you all over again, the finality of it, and you took a deep, unsteady breath before you began.

“I don’t think any of us are really ready to say goodbye,” you started, your voice thick with emotion. “Matt… he wasn’t just someone I loved. He was my best friend, my partner, my everything. He made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. And now, I’m… I’m not sure how to move forward without him.”

You paused, tears blurring your vision, but you forced yourself to continue. “I’ll never forget the way he made me laugh or the way he’d stay up late just to talk, even if he had a million other things to do. He cared so deeply, for everyone in his life, and I feel so grateful to have been loved by him.”

A small, sad smile tugged at your lips. “Matt was… he was the best part of my life. And even though he’s gone, I know he’ll always be with me, in the memories we shared, in the love he left behind. I’ll carry him with me for the rest of my life.” the last lines felt heavy on your tongue, almost inaudible as you cried.

You couldn’t look at anyone as you returned to your seat, feeling drained, the weight of your words settling over you. Nick and Chris reached out, each of them gripping your hand as the ceremony came to an end. As people began to disperse, you stayed behind, wanting one final moment alone with him.

“You coming?” Chris asked as he stood up, nick looking at you as well. You sat there, shaking your head as you looked up. Your eyes were sore and red — they were raw from all the times you’ve cried within the last week. “m’gonna stay here for a few moments.” you whispered, and they both gave you an understanding look before they headed inside the building to talking with the other people.

The grave site grew quiet — everyone else having retreated, leaving you with only the gentle whisper of the wind. You rose from your seat, walking over and kneeling down, placing a hand on the cool surface of the casket, the final barrier between you and Matt. The tears welled and flowed freely now, unchecked, as you whispered all the things you wished you’d had the chance to say.

Taking a deep breath — you choked on a sob, leaning forward to press your forehead to the casket, feeling the coldness of it seep into your skin. “I love you, Matt. I always will. Thank you for loving me, for giving me so many beautiful memories. I’ll keep you in my heart, forever.”

The clouds above began to drizzle, and you allowed the rain drops to fall over your skin. Sitting there on the ground, your knees digging into the dirt — you cried, whispering over and over again hoping matt would hear you.

“I-I’ll be with you one day, my love.” was the last thing you choked out before pressing a kiss to the top of his casket — rising to your feet and turning away.

4 years later

Today you were going to visit matt’s grave — something you have been doing for the last four years ever since he passed. It still wasn’t easy — and you don’t think it ever really is going to be.

But, you learned to become strong, not just for yourself — but for your daughter too.

A few weeks after matt’s funeral had happened, you had noticed your period was late and you hadn’t been feeling the best. And even though the thought of possibly being pregnant filled you with dread — it also made you feel happy.

So when those two pink lines had shown on the test — you were overly overwhelmed. You were carrying matt’s child — a piece of him that you would keep close to yourself forever. You couldn’t stop the tears from flowing that day, calling chris and nick to tell them — they were with you every step of the way.

You were currently getting your daughter buckled into her car seat, making sure she was safe and secure before you even thought about driving anywhere. Once you were sure she was strapped in safely, you closed the car door — climbing into the front and setting off to the graveyard.

“Mommy, where are we going?” your daughter asked, always so curious to know where you were going to take her. You smiled, looking into the mirror before training your eyes back in the road.

“We’re going to go see daddy, honey.” you said, putting the turning signal on to turn into the driveway of the graveyard. Your daughter let out a sound, turning her head to look out the window. You felt a pang in your heart, you always did whenever you visited matt — but this time, you were bringing your daughter along.

You drove a little more up the road, pulling over to the shoulder as you killed the engine. Stepping out, you came around to open the back door — unbuckling your daughter and carrying her out on your hip. Slowly, you walked over to where matt’s grave was, sitting down softly in the grass as you sat your daughter on your lap.

Her curious blue eyes looked at the headstone — reaching her little hand out to trace the words that were engraved into it. “Mommy…why is daddy’s name written on here?” she asked — her little head turning up to look at you.

You laughed sadly, feeling the tears well in your eyes. “This is…this is where daddy is resting baby-“ you say, patting the ground where he was buried years ago. “-i’m sorry you never got to meet him baby.” you whispered, sniffling softly as your hand came up to wipe your tears away.

Of course you’ve told your daughter about matt — about her dad. She didn’t fully understand it yet, but you hoped she would as she grows older. She deserved to know how wonderful her daddy was — and even though she’s got two amazing uncles to show her that, you wanted to show her in your own way too.

“Let’s…let’s put the flowers down that we brought for daddy, okay baby?” you said, handing her the little flowers you brought for matt. She smiled brightly, her little hand taking them from you and placing them on the ground in front of your bodies.

You sat there for a little while, talking to matt and telling him about everything that has been going on. Even introducing him to his daughter for the first time — the words getting caught in your throat as you did. Of course you told matt about her on other visits, he was the first person you told when you found out you were pregnant before nick and chris.

But, after a while when the grey clouds started to roll in — you decided it was time to go for the day. So you carefully stood up, placing your daughter on your hip as you reached a hand forward to matt’s headstone, whispering a goodbye as you began to walk away.

“Bye bye daddy!” your daughter called back — and your chest tightened.

You never were good at goodbyes, were you?

© strnilolover

[puhpandas]

this sucks bc I actually like and agree with what they were saying about making the protagonists a group of misfits representing different kinds of minectafters and people experiencing the game for the first time (or maybe not in Henry's case) bc community is a core part of minecraft. like I really dont even dislike this idea of real people being put into minecraft at all, it's just the visuals.

literally if this movie was animated it would be good. the visuals + real people in greenscreen land with all cinematography thrown out the window + strange realism in the world for no reason even tho if they were put into the game it should look like the game ruins it for me. if they went with the kind of style of the villager news they JUST showed or the trailer animation style for minecraft updates it could have been actually good. I want to see those people turn into minecraft skins and walk around the world not be in real life but blocks

[pculrstate]

this scene, part 2

“You know how he died?” Dean came up behind Sam, knocking him from the shameful burn of the memory. “Blaze Foley? Shot in the chest by this guy Carey January. Okay but listen to this—that dude’s dad’s name was Concho January. Believe that? Badass fuckin’ name. And did you know Merle Haggard escaped jail seventeen times?”

In the last year, maybe to make up for the fact that he never touched Sam anymore, Dean had started talking. All the time. Random facts and stories about dead musicians and cowboys and stupid knock-knock jokes. Sam, did you know? Sam, guess what? He never shut up and Sam almost never knew what he was supposed to say back. On long days in the car Dad could only listen to him for so long before he’d turn on the radio loud enough to drown Dean out, and he’d say, Let’s just all be quiet for a while. Sam would watch the tips of Dean’s ears pink and somewhere deep in his chest he’d feel relief, which he didn’t really understand. He used to be the one who never shut up, always annoyed Dean and probably Dad too, but he couldn’t help it. They were the only ones to talk to. But lately Dean was so loud and boisterous that all Sam could do was disappear beneath the sound of his voice. Knew he wouldn’t be heard over it. If Dean noticed Sam’s retreat he never said anything.

“What?” Sam said.

“What what? You hear what I said? Seventeen times.”

“What does that even mean.”

Dean shrugged. “I just heard it somewhere.” He nodded toward the books. “You getting anything?”

“No.”

“I’m buying.”

“There’s nothing good.”

Dean squinted at him. “You sure?”

“Yep.”

Dean paid for the record with two crumpled dollar bills. The cashier looked at the track list and nodded his approval. “Legend,” he said.

“Right?”

“Taken too soon.”

“All the best ones are,” Dean said in his civ voice. Sam hated that voice. It didn’t sound anything like his brother. They kept talking about what a legend Blaze Foley was and how tragically he died but how his music—“Thank God for the eternalcy of music, huh?” Dean said—would live on forever. And then Sam had the sudden urge to burst their stupid bubble, to rain on their parade, any of those idioms Mr. Wyatt had taught his class that meant taking someone’s happiness away. He wanted to tell this cashier that Dean had no way of even listening to the record because they didn’t have a record player anymore because their dad had sold it to a pawn shop for gas money six months ago. Oh, and by the way, Dean, eternalcy isn’t a word.

“Anyway, I could go all day,” the cashier said.

Dean laughed his civ laugh. “Oh, I could too. Once I get goin’…” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I hear ya.”

“Dean, I have to pee,” Sam said. He felt like something had taken over his body and his brain and whatever it was was making him angrier than he had any right to be. Over a dumb record. Or what it meant that Dean hadn’t noticed he’d been lying earlier. Over Dean bonding so easily with some random person.

“No public bathrooms, sorry,” the cashier said.

“Yeah, I saw the sign.” He kept his voice flat, bordering on impolite.

“Ooookay, guess that’s our cue,” Dean said. “Thanks again, man.”

The cashier saluted and Dean saluted back. Sam walked toward the exit and waited for the guiding hand to land on his shoulder. But it didn’t come.

“Oh, no shit! Sam, check this out.” Dean held up a battered record, wide grin on his face.

Sam squinted at it. He’d never heard of Blaze Foley, didn’t know what Dean wanted him to say, so he just pasted on a smile to match his brother’s and nodded and said, “Cool.”

“You even know about this guy? Like almost no one does anymore. But Dad had a tape and he listened to it all the time. Remember? ‘You’ll Get Yours Aplenty’?”

Sam didn’t remember. “Oh yeah,” he said. “That was a good one.”

Dean slid the record back into its slot. Started humming and moved onto the next row and didn’t even seem to notice that Sam was lying, which he usually did.

Sam walked toward a tall stack of books in the back room of the store, tilted his head to the side and skimmed the titles and recognized almost all of them. In Cold Blood; Alas, Babylon; A Tree Grows in Brooklyn; Watership Down.

Last year at Truman he’d spotted a copy of Watership Down in Mr. Wyatt’s classroom and in a rare moment of bravery had gone up to him after class and said I really liked that book. They talked about it for a few minutes and he could tell from Mr. Wyatt’s wide eyes and excited voice that none of his students ever wanted to talk to him about books, and for just that small moment Sam felt proud and special and important, and right before he left for his next class Mr. Wyatt looked at him with so much gratitude that Sam almost wanted to cry.

And then of course he’d had to go and ruin it by writing that stupid werewolf story.

He didn’t even know why he’d done it. Well, he did. Because at first he’d written an entirely bullshit story about how his parents (plural) had taken him and his brother to the Grand Canyon in their RV and on the way there one of the tires blew out but it was okay because their dad always said these mishaps were what made it an adventure, and how their dad loved adventure. He felt nauseous after he finished it, shoved the paper into his English folder and put his English folder in his backpack and tried to forget about the whole awful thing. But then Sam had remembered the gentle way Mr. Wyatt spoke to him, his eyes that searched Sam’s deeper than any other teacher’s ever had, and he’d pulled out the folder and tore up the story about the Grand Canyon and thought maybe just this one time it would be okay if he told the truth.

[bericas]

Why did you do that? Because I love you.

[blitheringbongus]

Can't believe Scar saw a rapidly approaching, dishevled mumbo and went "he's so cute." I need to run unorthodox experiments on them.

IKR SAME OMG

They’re literally perfect for each other <- delusional

But seriously they have so much lore together in my silly brain and the few interactions they do have (WHICH HAS BEEN INCREASING A LOT LATELY MAY I ADD) has been FUELING the fire rapidly and gods gods GODS do I have many thoughts about them

[bpdanakins]

remember when everyone had decided that noah was a gaybaiting homophobe bc he literally couldn't spoil things for a season that wasn't even finished being aired

[teddybeartoji]

going to the beach with toji and kids for the first time ever. it's only the beginning of your relationship, it's all kind of new – toji doesn't know what's about to hit him. sure, he's seen you with megumi and tsumiki before, but this? this is something else.

not only is his heart doing flips at the sight of the big smiles and the loud bursts of laughter you're managing to pull out of his kids, you're also wearing a fucking bikini. he hasn't seen this much of you before – the furthest you've gone during the late hours of the nights are steamy, handsy makeouts. he did take your shirt off the last time he had you below him but then you were interrupted by the little spiky haired boy, sniffling about a bad dream. after grabbing a blanket to cover you up, toji rested his forehead against your warm skin, grumbling something under his breath before looking up at you with soft eyes. you weren't mad – quite the opposite; you ruffled his hair and cradled his face, a gentle smile splayed on your lips. you pressed a haste kiss to his nose and then ushered him off of you, whispering something about his adorable son. toji scoffed. and smiled to himself.

the bikini. is killing him. he doesn't know what to do with himself. the scene playing in front of him is heart-warming and he should only be thinking about that, but how can he? the material is barely covering anything and you just look so... fucking good.

sitting in the shade, toji let's his head loll back, his eyes closing as he rests his hand over his face with a groan. he can't do it anymore. he's doing brain exercises to not pop the hardest boner of his life and you are not making it any easier when you keep giving him the prettiest smiles. you're happy, the kids are happy – everything should be good, but no – here he is, suffering because his parter looks fucking amazing. the fact that this is even a problem is mind-baffling to him. he is a strong man, no person is going to get to him just by being beauti—

"could you pass me the water, please?"

you're out to get him, he's sure of it.

toji peeks from under his hand and he's immediately blinded by a devil in disguise. the sun shines from behind you like a halo and the grin on your lips reaches behind your ears. sweat coats your skin and it makes toji's mouth salivate. what the fuck are you doing to him? hands on your hips, you stare down at your boyfriend and you give him another second to collect himself before quirking up a brow.

"toji?" you sound like a siren, you're pulling him in with your silky smooth tone. "the water, please?"

the corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile and toji has never moved faster in his entire life. "right."

he reaches for the bottle in the cooler beside him and gives it to you while making sure to look at you in the eyes and nowhere else. it's unbelievably hard – especially when the water starts trickling from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. toji gulps before turning to look at his kids instead. gumi's brows are furrowed as he's building his sandcastle while miki is busy building hers. toji cracks a grin.

"they're so– fucking cute." you whisper when you curse, a playful smile on your lips as you gush about the kids.

you love them so much already and you're glad that they seem to be liking you a lot too. that makes toji very happy; when the kids ask about you when they haven't seen you in a few days, when you do the same – he knows you really might be the one. it's a big thing to say, to even think, but he can't help it. it simply seems... right.

the water bottle hangs in front of his face and he's pulled away from his thoughts again. he goes to grab it and when he does, your free hand reaches out to him. warm finger wrap around his wrist and he melts at the soft, gentle touch. "come play with us."

a groan bubbles from his throat but it couldn't be any further from an annoyed one – you're sweet and you're excited, you're pretty and you're patient; you always welcome him and the kids with open arms and a bright smile. she would've loved you.

he throws the bottle aside and wraps his own hand around your own. "ya wanna play or the kids wanna play?"

his raspy voice and the stupidly handsome smirk he gives you make butterflies bloom and dance in your stomach. he makes you giddy, he makes you happy.

"i wanna play." you tug at him. "and the kids wanna play."

he can't say no to his little blessings and he can't say no to you. maybe running around will help clear his mind from the mischievious thoughts in his head. he doubts it, but he's needs to try.

in one swift move, he pulls your hand to his mouth while pretending to bite you and his eyes fucking twinkle when he sees your cute surprised expression and hears your little gasp. there's a moment, a second of the most comfortable silence before the corners of your lips twitch and you yank away from his hold, booking it towards gumi and miki with a loud cackle as toji pushes off the chair and takes off after you with fast steps.

your cheeks hurt from laughing as you watch toji catch megumi; he lifts gumi up with just one hand while tsumiki tries to poke her dad in the ribs in order for him to let boy go. when he finally lets the kids go... you feel his eyes on you. adrenaline pumps in your veins and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. you can't stop grinning. he can't either. a pair of arms wrap around your middle and your feet are being lifted up above the ground before you can even react.

while the kids are doubled over, running and stumbling over their own feet, toji growls in your ear. "gotcha."

you will take the next step today. no snotty kid of his will cockblock him again – they will be tired from the day and you will be all his to take care of. he'll show you his appreciation for being so good to him and the kids, for being so kind. and so... fucking hot.

he presses a kiss to your jaw but cringes when gumi and miki dramatically scream 'ew' at him. you feel him getting even warmer, his cheeks heating up and you try to save him by shooing the kids with a laugh. toji is grateful. he's happy that you're here.

[sweetnans]

Katsuki always paid attention to little details even when you were only a number in his mind. You ended number seven on the charts after the tests for UA application. He memorized the first ten and then recognized each one of you on the first day of class.

Your ID photo that appeared beside your score wasn't nothing alike like you were in person.

He completely flipped.

He pushed the feeling aside because he had no time to waste on stupid things, and he succeeded for a long, long time. Bakugo ignored you, pretended that you didn't exist and the fact that you were part of Midoriya's group the first months made it easy for him to keep you far away but that also made it hard to watch.

Why were you laughing at what shitty Deku had said? That fucker wasn't that funny.

Why was your hand on Deku's hair ruffling and combing it with your fingers?

He was fuming on the inside.

When Mina started to hang out with you, he was relieved that he won't have to see you with Deku again.

But then, you started to hang out with his group, and everyone loved you instantly. Kirishima always wanted to sparr with you, Kaminari always asked for your help on math and Sero, fucking Sero always inviting you to dance with him.

After he saw the behavior of his friends when it came to you, he almost preferred you hanging out with Deku.

He noticed that you smiled brightly every time Kirishima told you one of his dumbs jokes while having you pinned down on the floor mat after a sparr, but you never laughed.

He noticed your leg trembling under the table when you studied with Kaminari in the common room. He could bet that the bastard used every chance he got to flirt with you in the most hideous way.

He also noticed your pink tinted cheeks every time Sero gave you his hand for a quick dance around the kitchen.

Almost like you were uncomfortable with their demeanor.

You were pretty. He understood that they were making their moves to you, but you were just too shy and good to say anything to them, like you weren't interested at all for example.

One night, he couldn't sleep and went straight to the kitchen of the dorms to grab a glass of water. He never expected seeing you there scrolling in your phone leaning by the sink, waiting for the toaster to pop your bread out.

"You shouldn't be eating carbohydrates this late"

He startled you. He literally appeared from the shadows of the dining room dragging his feet, making no sound at all.

"Jeez, you should wear a bell or something," you giggled when he gave you a puzzled look. "Like a cat? So next time I know that you're coming?"

"I know what you meant." he walked to you and grabbed a glass from the rack.

He felt your presence in his bones like a static pulse vibrating under his skin. Maybe it was just your quirk trying to reach for him.

"What are you doing here this late?" You asked clearing your throat while he gulped his water in one go.

"What does it seem like I'm doing?" He pourred another glass. He wasn't that thirsty. He just wanted to be there in silence with you for minutes, without his obnoxious friends.

Your toast popped out of the toaster, and you grabbed it, burning your fingers in the process.

"Shit, shit," you exclaimed, blowing some air at your fingers to ease the pain.

"C'mere shithead," he grabbed your hand and put it under the sink, letting the cold water flow.

"It's fucking freezing" you tried to pull your hand back but his grip tightened.

"What did you expect? You just burned your fucking fingers doing the dumbest shit I've ever seen"

You didn't know if it was the serious tone on his voice or the way that he was struggling with you stopping you from taking your hand out of the water, but something about the scene made you let out a laugh, a big one. He had never seen you laugh like that before.

"Are you laughing at me?"

That question only made it worse. You were absolutely parting yourself from laughter. He turned off the water and watched you wipe your tears.

"I'm sorry, you're not that funny," you said, returning to your normal state. He grinned.

You passed by his side fetching your toast and poured some jam.

"Do you want some jammie toast with that water of yours?" You asked, offering a half eaten toast.

"Sure." he took the toast, and in return, he gave you his half glass of water.

After that encounter, he noticed that every time his friends were around you, you always tried to find him, looking for exchange glances, giving him a subtle smile.

He started to show up at your study sessions with Kaminari, and he noticed that your legs stopped trembling because his presence was enough for Kaminari to keep his mouth shut.

He also began sparring with you on training sessions switching partner with Kirishima leaving him with Sato.

And everytime Sero tried to dance with you in front of everybody he grabbed your arm and guided you to the kitchen or his room with a lame excuse to get you out of the situation.

Fortunately, his friend read the room pretty well. The three of them enjoyed more watching him play his cards with you than putting themselves on a constant shame.