#its a new drabble instead of a continuation but oh well

[lesbians4armand]

im finally writing again after months of swearing to start again

[darkbluekies]

I just read Jerry and Hedwig reacting to us bleeding on the sheets what about the guys👀 specifically silas (cause my daddy issues run wild for him)😩

Silas, Dr Kry & King Edmund drabbles: bleeding through at a "sleepover" (or in their house)

The girls reaction male!yanderes (mob boss, doctor & king) x fem!reader Warnings?: sexual indication, disgusted by blood, yandere

Silas:

You're on a mission with him, staying in a house belonging to the second in command. Being the boss’s little darling has its benefits — especially in these situations. If you hadn't been his, chances are that you would get killed for ruining someone's sheets.

"Silas", you whisper while shaking him carefully. "Please, wake up. Oh, God, please wake up ..."

He grunts and opens his dark eyes, looking around confusedly before fixating his eyes on you. He freezes.

"What's wrong, baby?" he asks raspily and grabs your arm.

"I bled through ...", you whisper weakly, body full pf panic. "I didn't know, I wasn't supposed to start now!"

Silas removes the cover to look at the stain. He doesn't say anything as he removes them all before picking up his phone to call one of his most trustworthy men.

"Don't worry about it, baby", he says tiredly. "I'll fix this."

"Will your second in command get mad?" you ask hesitantly.

"He won't. He knows better." Silas holds the phone to his ear. "I need you to bring me new sheets and to send someone to buy whatever Y/N tells you to get. Here Y/N."

He gives you the phone. You tell the man on the other side what you need. He replies politely, knowing better than to talk informally to you. Silas stands by, watching carefully and rubbing your back.

As soon as you get what you need, you get out of your bottom clothes and change. Silas sits down in bed with you in his lap. He brings his legs up to trap you in his embrace. His rough hands sneak under your shirt to massage your aching stomach.

"You know ...", he whispers in your ear, hand traveling lower. "Exercise helps with cramps ... I know something that is a great form of exercise. Want me to show you?"

You grab his hand, moving it back to your stomach.

"Come on", he smirks against your jaw. "You'd like it."

"I'll kick your nuts if you continue talking", you warn him.

Silas chuckles and pulls the blankets higher, kissing your forehead.

"Women and their temperament", he grins and softens his face. "Guess I have to wait then. Why don't you try going to sleep, little thing? It's late."

"Are you sure your second in command won't be mad?" you ask carefully.

"If he even dares to snarl at you, I'll stain his sheets with his blood instead." Silas kisses your lips with a reassuring smile. "You have nothing to be worried about, little thing, I've always got your back."

Dr Kry:

He has installed a baby monitor, just a week prior, to being able to supervise you 24/7. He wakes up by hearing shuffling from the machine and takes a look to see you grabbing all of your sheets in your arms. Dr Kry frowns. Are you going to sleep on the floor again? You have such weird ideas to entertain yourself. But the look of sheer guilt and horror paints your face, knocking those thoughts out of his head. Dr Kry hurries to grab his silk robe and hurry up to your room.

You're currently washing them in the bathtub. You freeze when you hear him unlock the door and enter the room.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"Here", you reply quietly, watching how he enters the bathroom.

Dr Kry crouches down beside you on the floor, putting his hand on your shoulder. He glances between the sheets and your face.

"What happened?" he asks.

"I-I bled through", you say. "I'm so sorry, doctor, I will fix it-"

"No, you're not." Dr Kry grabs your arm and pulls you up in your feet. "I'll fix it. You're not well, you shouldn't do this."

You feel bad. Dr Kry works long shifts and during his only rest, you've forced him up to clean up the mess you've caused.

"Y/N, it's fine", the doctor reassures you and walks over to give you a short hug. "Things like this happens. You should look at it from another angle — you can be pregnant. You're fertile. Alright? That's a good thing. A very good thing."

He's secretly glad that his poisoning hasn't affected your reproduction organs. You need them. He wants you to have them. Dr Kry wants nothing more than to have children with you.

"Let's stop crying and realize that this isn't a big thing, okay?" he says and wipes your tears. "You don't have to be ashamed. I've watched much, much worse things."

"Like what?" you ask quietly.

Dr Kry smiles teasingly. "I've seen people spill urine samples on themselves, have had people using the rear temperature stick for a patients mouth, and whatnot. This is nothing. It's natural, nothing to be ashamed of."

You try not to smile. "Did someone really use the wrong temperature stick?"

Dr Kry grins and nods, happy to see you a bit calmer.

"Let's get you some painkillers now so you can go rest", he says and puts his hand on your back to guide you. "I'll change the sheets, and you can just sit by, okay? Everything you need is in the bathroom."

He sits with you until the cramps stop, and decide to stay in the room with you while you sleep, just in case you would wake up again. He smiles slightly for himself. The poisioned air hasn't ruined your chances of ferility, he couldn't be more greateful.

King Edmund

You're terrified of telling him. Edmund is the type to believe that you can hold it in. With absolutely zero knowledge about females, risk is that he will get mad at you for ruining his expensive sheets instead of understanding. You know that he buys them from special places. One of a kind.

Edmund has never been taught how women work, it has been taboo and unnecessary for him, as a king, to learn. The only thing he knows is that a woman bleeds once a month, and that is it. Nothing more. He doesn't know how it works or why it happens.

But you can't stop the maid from telling him. He comes walking from his office with a deep frown on his face. You're dead. Before sending the maids out, he walks over to the bed and inspects the damage. When the girls are gone and the door is closed, he turns to you.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks.

"I thought that you would get mad", you admit quietly. "It's your expensive sheets ..."

"And you think that it'll help the situation by sending one of the maids to tell me, instead of telling me yourself?"

"I didn't send her. I didn't want you to know ... at all."

"Why?"

"I told you ... I was scared that you'd get mad. You'd have told me to keep it in."

He groans, hiding his face in his hands. "For fucks sake, Y/N!" He removes his hands. "Why in the living Hell would I care more about about a pair of sheets rather than my own wife?"

You don't answer. Edmund walks over and grabs your shoulders before pulling you into a hug.

"You underestimate me, my jewel", he mutters and kisses your temple. "Now, go take a bath."

He tells a maid to fill the tub with scalding hot water to soothe your cramps and tells another maid to change the sheets.

"Burn the sheets and the night gown", he tells the maid. "I don't want anyone unworthy to see my queen's blood, got it?"

And the maid nods quickly before running off.

While you sit in the steaming tub, Edmund sits on the floor beside it, keeping you company. He should be doing work, but instead he's here, with you.

"I'm sorry about your sheets", you sigh and lean against the tub. "I know that they're expensive."

"Shut up about those fucking sheets now", Edmund groans and caresses your cheek. "I have enough to buy a hundred more sheets. I could buy the entire world, if I wanted to. A few sheets are nothing for me."

He leans over to kiss your wet forehead.

"Are you disgusted?" you ask carefully.

"A bit ... but not as much as I thought I'd be", Edmund replies with a grimace. "I'm more concerned about you, to be honest. Seeing you bleed, in any way, makes my heart sink in a disgusting way. I'm just angry I don't have anyone to blame for your pain."

You try to joke. "Blame my parents for making me a girl."

But he looks deadly serious. "No, never. They made you ... my wife and queen. I could never blame them for giving you this pain." He sighs and taking your hand. "If there is anything i can do to take the pain away, tell me. Teach me."

"Well, you actually had this right, the warm water. It helps."

"Anything else?"

"Sugar. Just for the hormones."

Edmund nods, thinking. He shouts for a maid to tell the kitchen staff to make cakes. He then turns back to you and smiles proudly. Maybe he isn't as bad as you thought?

[wannab-urs]

The King Has Lost His Crown

Pairing: ex!Dieter Bravo x gn!Reader

Summary: Dieter shows up on your doorstep

Tags: dieter being a pathetic loser, drug mention, angst WC: 703

A/N: This is my entry for @freelancearsonist's ABBA Drabble Challenge. I could have gone smutty with this, but I went angsty instead. I may still write the smut version later idk.

Dieter Bravo Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

You sit down on your couch with a glass of wine, settling in for a nice evening of watching mindless TV. Your phone starts buzzing – Dieter Bravo is calling you. You’ve removed his contact, but you couldn’t ever bring yourself to block the number you know by heart. You hit the red Fuck You button and toss your phone to the side. 

Throughout an entire episode of some shitty reality show, your phone lights up with texts. You finally pick it up to read them:

Please answer the phone

Its Dieter 

I miss u

Can u call me pls?

Baby

Baby

Baby

Baby ]:

Just as you’re about to tell him to fuck off, your doorbell rings. You check the ring camera and see that he’s standing on your fucking porch. You hope LA suddenly has a cold snap and he freezes to death out there. Okay, maybe that’s a little harsh. But he could stand to lose a toe or two. 

He rings the doorbell again – starts just continuously pressing the button until the sound drives you so crazy you have to open the door. And he’s standing there looking like an abandoned puppy in his brown fuzzy coat and a pair of basketball shorts that are too long. You used to find his disheveled appearance endearing, but now it just adds to how pathetic he seems. 

“You have 10 seconds to explain where you found the audacity to show up at my house, Bravo.”

He winces at your icy tone, brow furrowing over those pretty brown eyes. He tugs a few strands of his hair, making it stick up even more.

“Baby, just let me in and I’ll explain everything.”

“No. Explain here.”

Dieter sighs, world weary, long and drawn out. You go to close the door on him, but he shoves a croc covered foot into the crack before you can get it closed. 

“Wait!”

You open the door enough to see him, but not enough to let him push his way inside the house. 

“What happened with your new girl, Dieter?” 

“She wasn’t you.”

For a second you almost believe him. Almost. But liars never change. 

“Don’t give me that bullshit. What actually happened?”

“What do you think happened?” He mutters, rolling his eyes. 

“I think you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, as usual, and she got fed up.” 

“Yeah? Well. Maybe you’re right,” his tone shifts to something like shame, his face turning red. “Are you gonna let me in?”

“Oh absolutely not. You really think you can show up here after getting dumped for cheating on the girl you cheated on me with? Do you think I’m stupid?” 

“No,” his brow furrows even deeper. “Of course not. I just thought–”

“It must be so hard for you. All the drugs and pretty people you could ever desire and all you ever do is fuck it up. You’re a disaster. A fucking disgrace. I bet your mamá is real fuckin proud of you. Get out of my face, Dieter. Get off my porch. Go fuck someone else’s life up.”

You slam the door in his face and start crying immediately. The tears come faster than you can wipe them from your face, leaving tracks down your cheeks. 

You loved him, you really did. Maybe you still do. But you can’t put yourself through that bullshit again.  

–-

Dieter slumps down on the doorstep, not quite ready to accept defeat. He thinks you’ll come out soon, offer him a cup of tea and a snack, maybe cuddle with him on the couch. 

His life is a mess, but the one good thing he’s ever had was you. He lost you and it was completely his fault. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get over you. He needs to win you back, prove he can be a good person, a good partner. 

He leans back against the door, prepping for an uncomfortable night – sober and stuck outside. He falls asleep eventually and wakes with the sunrise. You never came out to get him. Didn’t even offer him a blanket. You are well and truly done with him, and he only has himself to blame.

[bluexiao]

—reverse comfort, fluff, short drabble | a studio ghibili valentine’s collab with @spiriteddreams | honestly this was supposedly posted on valentine’s but college said no, anyway, enjoy~

#“i asked the spring to bring you to me”

Another month has passed, it seems, XIAO could only think to himself, gaze stretching as far as it could, seemingly far away than where he ought them to be–so unconsciously, so irrationally. In silent days like these, when he had cleared the monsters and karma within the night, only then does he find himself lingering on his thoughts, only then does he seek the idea of the serenity of his solitary, the silence that hovers over the air.

“Twenty-sixth,” he mutters to himself, golden eyes now focused at the moon above, leaning back and continuing to stare at the bright, new moon.

He was still counting.

Of course, he would.

He releases a small breath as he then closes his eyes, clearing out the world around him while remaining vigilant. It has been a while since he had last closed his eyes and fallen into slumber–right. It was the same day that you left.

He finds himself staring at the moon once again, its bright reflection gazing back at him.

Just a little more, he says to himself.

He’ll just have to see until the twenty-seventh moon.

The days started growing longer and the warmth was beginning to slowly ebb away the cold that winter brought in the winds from the past few weeks, especially ones that have come from the snow of Dragonspine that found its way to Liyue. Winds that he wished were you instead.

And as if Celestia had heard his silent wishes, he soon finds himself face to face with you, and that beautiful gentle smile you wore whenever you-

“Xiao!” you exclaimed, your smile then brightening upon seeing him looking right at you. Xiao denied every thought of missing you–he had no right to, he thinks, not one to expect, as well. Human life is fragile, one that can be so fleeting and so painful to all those who were left behind. He did not want to acknowledge it–missing you; your voice when you call out his name, your eyes that lights up like the sun, your smile under the starry night and moonlight.

But he could not deny it now.

Not when your voice is calling out to him, when your eyes are looking right at his very own, and your smile was flashing his way. Just like they were thirty-four months ago.

You were giggling as you spread your arms wide for him, and almost as if on instinct, he stepped forward to your form, shoulders easing up in an instant once he embraced you and buried his head on your neck.

At that moment, he could finally breathe.

“I missed you too, Xiaoxiao,” you whisper right next to his ear, making him shudder. Oh, how he missed it—how he missed this. He could feel your arms all around him, enveloping him with your ever-pleasant warmth, thawing off the winter that had encased his heart and his soul, freeing him and letting him see the light once again.

“I asked the spring… to bring you back to me.”

His words came out slowly. If it was the Xiao you knew back then, you would’ve thought that he was embarrassed to say such a thing—but no. This is him. This is the real Xiao, and he was showing it to you.

Your hold on him tightens as your lips find the spot below his jaw.

“I’m sorry, my darling,” you say, followed by another peck under his ear, as if it was another apology, “I’m here. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

He found his eyelids closing, breathing in, and heaving out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for coming back to me.”

[wordyneonlights]

Serotonin

Hi-lo!! I'm feeling a bit lovey dovey today so ya'll can have this Renga drabble I wrote a while ago. Hope you enjoyyy

Langa had never been good at biology, to be honest he’d never really been good at any of the sciences in general, but biology had been the worst. He did however, remember one particular class. They were discussing hormones and he had been trying to listen but mostly failing until the teacher had gotten to the part about serotonin. To this day he still has no idea why he can remember its function so clearly, even back then it saved him, he got a 3/50 instead of 0 on the test.

Now though, he suddenly realised that maybe his brain had remembered that particular concept in order to describe this moment, this…feeling.

Serotonin, he’d lost the scientific definition but the overall concept was that it was the feel good hormone, something that kept your spirits up, something that made you happy.

After… Canada, Langa seriously considered the fact that he was unable to produce serotonin. Maybe it had dried up in his body but now… now, looking at the boy skating in front of him, he felt it again.

Well, maybe this was more than just serotonin, he had forgotten the hormone responsible for love but- whoah wait…

Langa held his suddenly hot face in his hands … love? That was… something he didn’t think he was prepared for. Of course he liked Reki, so many things about him.

He liked hearing Reki talk, watching him skate, watching him in general to be honest. Gosh ,he winced, that sounded creepy. But he couldn’t help it, Reki just looked so amazing doing everything. He-

“LANGA!”

He jumped, his vision filling with amber eyes and flaming hair.

“Jeez, your head was stuck farther in the clouds than usual,” He commented with an easy smile

Langa smiled back

“So,” he started, flopping next to langa on the floor, “Watcha thinking about?”

“Nothing,” the boy muttered looking pointedly away

“Whyy,” Reki whined, “C'mon I can keep a secret,”

Langa remained adamant in his silence as Reki continued

“Hmm,” he pondered hand on his chin in mock deep thought, “Is it a girl?”

Langa started, before replying,

“I’m gay,”

“Oh so it’s a guy?” Reki asked eyes shining and Langa couldn’t help but smile.

He wasn’t expecting a negative response from Reki, he knew how accepting he was… accepting and kind and just... perfect

“Well fine, if you’re not gonna tell me I’ll just find out,”

Langa turned and faced the redhead examining every feature, “Bet you can’t,”

Reki’s face widened in slow smile and Langa’s heart skipped a beat,

Serotonin

“Huh?” Reki said and Langa blanched before recovering quickly. He had muttered the word in English and he doubted Reki knew it.

“Just saying that you'll never be able to find out, ”

“So there is someone! Aha, I knew it!”

Langa simply shrugged.

If only you knew

Langa had come to realise that this … serotonin feeling was becoming more regular, it would mostly bubble up when he was around Reki and simmer softly when he wasn’t.

It was fun almost… watching Reki guess. He would shake his head every time coming up with a reason Reki was better.  

It was almost his favourite part of the day, because each time he found a new part of Reki to appreciate, a part he didn’t even know existed before then .

And the serotonin feeling, the one that had sparked his memory just seemed to grow more and more, like his body was getting used to that particular hormone again.

He didn’t mind it though, he was feeling happier than he had in a while, lighter, as well. For now at least, there was nothing in his mind but serotonin and Reki.

[whumpbug]

here is a prompt fill for @syncopein3d ! this drabble broke my heart to write like no archie baby its ok he forgives you

anyways, thank you so much for the request! it was super fun to explore this side of them as well and i definitely plan to do so more in the future!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“Simon, watch out!”

Archie’s hands were moving before his brain could catch up as he thrust Simon out of the way of the screeching car, sending him sprawling towards the pavement.

The incoming car swerved at the last second, just barely missing Archie as he hopped out of the way. It skidded slightly and continued speeding away. Archie sighed sharply.

That was close. At least no one got hurt, he thought.

Until he heard the pained grunt from where he sent his friend flying.

“Oh god, Simon..” He muttered, rushing towards the sound. Simon sat slumped against the wall, and he could see now, that something was wrong.. Simon was cradling his wrist, and there were barely concealed tears welling in his eyes.

"Agh.. think it's fractured.." He breathed, throwing his head back in pain.

“Oh god.. I.. I’m so sorry.. Simon, I th-thought..” Archie began, reaching towards Simon.

He felt sick at the way Simon flinched ever so slightly.

“It’s.. I’m fine.. you were trying to help..” He huffed, squeezing his eyes shut against the sharp ache.

Archie saw the full picture now. Because of the awkward angle Simon was pushed at, when he tried to brace for impact, his wrist collided with the wall and splintered. To make things worse, there was a random drain spout sticking out of the wall that got Simon right in the side. He very likely broke a rib or two. It was nothing too serious, but it had to hurt. And it was all Archie’s fault.

Archie felt his breathing pick up. He looked down at his trembling hands. He did this. He hurt him. Everything he believed about himself was true. He was just some.. abomination. 

It was just so easy to forget that Simon was a regular human. Not hopped up on some new enhacing drug, not combat trained and conditioned with inhuman reflexes, no, he was just human.

And Archie wasn’t.

And that thought scared him like nothing else.

Tears blurred Archie’s vision as he sank to his knees beside Simon. “I’m.. I’m so sorry… I just.. I’m so sorry!” He blubbered, unable to articulate everything going on in his head. He buried his face into his hands and wept.

He felt fingers tilt his head up.

“Hey. Look at me,” Simon said softly, and for once, there was no trace of sarcasm or mirth in his tone. 

Archie obliged with a sniffle.

“It’s okay. I understand you were just trying to protect me.. I’m not upset and I forgive you,” Simon whispered, using his good hand to thumb away a stray tear from Archie’s cheek.

“But.. but I hurt you,” He mewled.

“You did. But you didn’t mean to. And I think your intention is more important. Just.. go a little easier next time, okay? I’m going to be fine, Archie. It’s okay.”

Archie couldn’t open his mouth to respond around the lump in his throat. Instead, he threw his arms around Simon in a tight hug. This earned a small grunt from Simon, at which Archie immediately backed away.

“Let’s just.. get home. There’s an ice pack with my name on it in the freezer,” Simon huffed, grinning slightly at Archie.

Archie returned the smile.

There wasn’t a universe that Archie imagined himself feeling normal in, but he could live with this. With people who saw him for who he was. A human.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[thenewblackcanvas]

just a finale

18+ • drabble • yunho • pt. 1 • pt.2 • pt.3  • pt.4 • pt.5 • pt. 6

I don't usually speak before these but I wanted to say thank you for loving this series. I clearly made this around new years to be released, well, uh on new years but...it's April now so whatever

Again though, thank you for loving the series. I hope more people can see it even though it's over now and enjoy it as well.

for the next two months, you were working busy days and having quiet nights. christmas provided you an escape from your guilt for a bit as you visited family.

but now it was new years. for the sake of your sanity, you accepted an invitation to a countdown party at a club you were a semi-regular at. you hadn’t expected it to be as wild as it was when you arrived nor did you expect to see your friend, with a new man no less. you made eye contact and she winked. you just looked on in confusion for a second before a friend dragged you to dance.

after a while, you slipped away to the bathroom upstairs farthest from the main dance floor. usually, the upstairs was mainly blocked off anyway. thankfully it wasn’t overflowing with people in tight dresses trying to get to a toilet before their shots came back to haunt them. you leaned over the sink to get a better look at the small smudge of makeup under your eye when-

“oh my god, hi!!” you caught a glimpse of her in the mirror first as she ran up to the sink next to you to wash her hands. a sizable hickey sat right in the crook of her neck making you feel uncomfortable. you weren’t sure if it was from yunho or the new man she was cuddled up with. to say you were confused would be an understatement.

“uhh h-hi”

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” she leans against the sink, giddy with a tipsy giggle.

“y-yeah, and now i think i was missing a few chapters.”

she makes an amused face with her tongue out. “just a bit of fun”

“b-but what about…” you trail off but she looks at you expectantly like she doesn’t know. “...yunho?”

her eyes go wide. “oh! yeah” she laughs to herself then groans “that’s been over. I never meant for that to be a long term thing anyway but i did try i promise.”

you listen in confusion as she tries to clean up her makeup, any lipstick she had on now completely gone. remnants of it smudged all around her mouth “i tried to make it last longer, even thought about suggesting an open relationship but I just couldn’t do it anymore. couldn’t handle the double life, if you get what i mean. he was getting really…i don't know, distant i guess, anyway.”

“wait, i’m confused.” 

she sighed then chuckled. “don’t make me say it.” from the purely lost look on your face she continued. “I can’t do monogamy, babe. I don’t even know how it happened with him. I tried but I couldn’t do it. I thought the idea of an open relationship might scare him so I just did what I do best.” she winked and turned to leave with a smile “he ended it not long after anyway.”

she spoke the last part so nonchalantly that you felt almost more confused than before she spoke as you watched her leave. but she stopped for a second turning back with a genuine smile. “i know we aren’t the closest but don’t be a stranger anymore, yeah?’

a heavy smile finds its way to your face as you nod “yeah”

you think she can sense there’s something you want to say but leaves instead.

you stood there a few more moments before leaving the restroom, trying to process what she just told you. you contemplated leaving, as you looked out into the sea of people currently lit up blueish purple. stood at the top of one of the staircases that face each other in the large rotunda, you tried to uncloud your head when you saw a familiar figure walking down the other set of stairs. he was talking with two other men but his eyes were searching the room.

you quickly turned away and slipped between people as he started to look in your direction. you knew this club for its less busy days so you followed a route you knew to the back stairs and up to the roof. you abandoned your heels halfway up. part of the bar has a big skylight glass ceiling to look up at the sky and the attached piece on the side was a small rooftop where the owner kept a personal area. It was usually unlocked as most didn’t know about the area behind the locked gate but you knew how to slip by it. he knew you went up there now but he didn’t mind. It was nice, nothing extravagant but very calm. exactly what you needed right now.

you looked to the dozens of buildings around that had people celebrating as well.

you hear the door open and nearly jump out of your skin. in all the times you’ve been up here, no one has come but the owner and you knew he wouldn’t as he said “I’m too old to be here at night. I just come to make sure none of my shit is broken”

the tall figure emerged from the doorway with soft eyes.

you grew irritated immediately and confused. “how did you get up here?”

“how did you?”

you turned back to the sky. “the owner knows I come up here.

he didn’t say anything else but you could hear him approaching. the sky was sprinkled with people lighting their own fireworks before the extravagant ones go off at midnight. they looked so tiny in different parts of the sky. you admired them so much you hadn’t noticed him come next to you. he eyed you as you looked on. both leaning on the edge, caught up in two different things.

you finally realized, side eyeing him. “what?”

he sighed deeply with apologetic eyes “y/n-“

“don’t”

“what i-?”

“don’t. I don’t need you to say anything.“ it came out a bit meeker than you hoped that time but it got the point across.

he bites down on his lips in contemplation before speaking again. “is it because I didn’t reach out? I thought you might need space but there are so many things I wanted to say-“

“it’s because you left me to go see her!” this shocked you both as you spit the words out quickly only letting a few seconds pass before you continued.  “It’s because I know that everything we did was wrong but I can’t help but feel thrown to the side. It’s because I keep forgetting that it’s not you and me.”

after a few more moments of silence, you say. “I spoke to her.” his head shot up. “more like listened but i know you aren’t together anymore.”

silence followed the last sentence as you contemplated what to say next. you felt the words were going to break your voice before you even spoke them “why didn’t you call?”

he didn’t answer. “if you weren’t with her anymore why didn’t you call? why didn’t you come over? w-why didn’t you try??”

“because that is fucking terrifying.” wide eyes looked at him, finally seeing how tense he looked. all kinds of emotions stirred in his head “y/n, that is terrifying. i have wanted to be with you for so long. the only time i wasn’t a coward was when an opportunity threw itself at me with that phone call. after what happened at the spa i couldn’t even begin to figure out how to dig myself out of the hole I’d somehow gotten myself in. even though I messed around first, i knew she was cheating on me, i knew the whole fucking time. but I still should have ended it rather than pretend I already had. hell, i shouldn’t have even said yes to her in the first place. but now what right did I have to be happy when i was a cheater myself?” the silence stretched for a minute.

“yunho-”

“I don’t want you to look at me as some cheater. I take responsibility for everything I did to both of you. I want you to trust that I didn’t do it to hurt you or play with your feelings. I’m so sorry””

you do know that but something keeps your mouth shut. as you look away back to the now still sky his tears finally fall. “I want you to just hear me out. Ok?” he puts a hand on your cheek gently and you turn back to him.

“I can’t even say anything that no cheater has said before but I’m still going to say that I want you. I have never wanted someone so bad” his eyes are desperate and pleading as they stare into yours “and I don’t just mean like that phone call or in the car. I want you in every conceivable way”

you watched his eyes turn dark, the lust swimming under the desperation was just as genuine. the invisible barrier between you two kept now only by his willpower crumbled.

if you’re being honest, you wanted to hold out longer, still having things to say but when he kissed you, you felt everything he wanted to say and vice versa. 

the way his lips feel against you, you want to stay there forever. there is something lighter. maybe the knowledge that he isn’t someone else’s anymore. or the lack of guilt of at your friend waiting on him. he feels it too as he smiles against your lips.

he pulls away for a moment and the tears that ran over contrast with the wide smile on his handsome face. you go to speak but he’s kissing you again, determined to funnel all his words into his actions. 

his arms come from where they were wrapped around you to grip your hips. it’s almost as if he doesn’t think about it as he guides you against him. 

when he moves away it’s almost as if he doesn’t know what to do. there are so many things he wants to do that his brain almost short circuits but when your sweet voice calls to him he smiles and knows just what to do. he wants to feel you. he’s wanted it for so long. 

all the invisible barriers and rules places between you for the sake of keeping flimsy morals were gone now. he had so much to prove to you.

the wetness on his thigh told him alot but he needed to prep you thoroughly. he wasn’t one for bragging outside of teasing but he was big. probably bigger than anyone you’d had based on your reaction in the car and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

he slipped a hand under your dress and slid two fingers across your slit before sliding them right into your entrance. the way you moaned into his neck was the first test of patience.

he bit his lip, working you open before adding another finger. the grip you had on the nape of his neck tightened. that was the second.

you leaned further back, pulling him with you onto the small lip on the wall. your legs opened wider, wanting more of him. of course you knew why he was so insistent about using his fingers but you wanted one thing right now. your voice pitched as he curled his fingers, hitting just the right spot.

his third test of patience proved to be his breaking point after you came. he held you tightly, stilling his fingers. he knew you were about to say something to break him when your hand tightened on his nape again. “can i have your big cock now?”

it was his hand that dug into you this time. the hand behind your back grabbed you with the other coming to grab a thigh. he hoisted you up further, with your back now partially on the bottom of the glass ceiling, enough for you to look down at the party goers beneath you when you looked back.

you didn’t give them much thought though as he was finally unzipping his pants. when he was fully out you felt the hottest excitement shoot through you.

a momentary possessive thought sprung to mind. ‘mine now’ you buried it with moans as you lightly played with your clit. he came closer, eyes seeming to reveal the same possessive thought.

he kissed you again, passion leading the charge with the flames turned up to a thousand as he rolled his cock against you. the sound you made was nothing short of obscene but it felt like the purest thing to him.

finally he sank into you. his head threatened to fall back from how good it felt but he couldn’t miss your face. you seemed to have the same idea but were fighting a losing battle. thankfully he used a big hand to hold your head, caressing your cheek with his thumb as he did so. your eyes were lidded but you could still make out his beautiful face. the outline of his mouth in the most beautiful groan you’d ever heard, eyes filled with lust fixed only on you. the gentle hand that was still somehow sturdy enough to hold your head in place. all this while he made you impossibly full. he used his other hand to push your thighs open a little wider, wanting to be as deep as possible.

once his hips met yours he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your cheek. his lips lingered before he pulled away ever so slightly to whisper. “make love now or fuck?

the implications of his words were strong, strong enough to catch your breath but you surprisingly had words to reply.

“its too fucking cold. fuck now, love later.”

he chuckled. “i was thinking the same. we’ve got alot of later to love”

even if you had something to say, you couldn’t before he made his first move. experimental and shallow but enough to erase words from your mouth. it only took two more of those before he was catching a pace. deep and fast.

he pulled out before sinking back in quicker than you would’ve thought. his hips moved more skillfully than you thought possible, knocking any thoughts right out of your head. his hands moved to grip your waist tightly. the flow of his hips coupled with how full you felt had you already filling with heat but the moment he pushed your thighs up and hit your spot you lost all semblance of language. tugging down the top of the flimsy dress, he moaned at the sight. despite the cold the look on his face as your breasts moved takes away any complaint only more moans.

“it’s ok, be as loud as you want.” he spoke in choppy sentences from his movements. you couldn’t even respond, mouth open with repressed pleasure threatening to blow from every nerve in your body while you whimpered and stretched into the increasingly noisy night. you couldn’t hold out much longer.

the faint sound of something behind you tingling the back of your brain but realization didn’t hit until yunho started counting as well. “5…4…-”

you gripped one of the wrists holding your thigh down tight, almost bracing yourself “yunho”

“3…2…-”

…

“1”

the cracking and exploding of fireworks above you masked your loud and obscene sounds. reds and greens and blue expanding above you almost an extension of the sensations. he took all of your sounds as fuel, not stopping as you arched and writhed. even his name getting lost in the cheers and explosions.

the pressure on your sensitive spot didn't stop. he hit over and over, bending over to bite at your neck. the feel of his breathy groans against you almost too much. despite the sensitivity, you moved to wrap an arm around his back and the other holding the back of his neck. “please cum”

it was your voice again that drove him to the edge. the sound like sugar leading him to heaven as he came as deep inside you as he could. with the most pornographic and shameless moan only for your ears he moved sloppily through his high finally dragging to a stop with his head still in your neck.

you’re so close to the skylight you’re able to see some people kissing and drinking the night away. at some point you make eye contact through hooded lids with your friend. she sees you over her dates shoulder with a suspicious hand under her skirt as she gives you a sly smile and a wink.

you blink unsure of what to do before chuckling. you’ve come a long way from the phone call.

he carefully pulls out and turns you around to lean on the glass ceiling, focused on more fireworks going off at a building in the distance.

he holds your shaking form against him not bothering to cover your chest from those who have taken an interest in you two.

his smile can be felt against your skin as he nuzzles into your neck. “have I proven it yet?”

“what?” you breathe out heavily with his smile growing wider as you feel him slipping himself back in.

“that you’re mine.”

♡ series masterlist ♡

[roxannarambles]

drabble drabble drabble (julinemo)

Juliana wasn't sure what she expected of her first day of art class, but whatever she'd expected, this wasn't it. When their new instructor arrived, a man with a piercing yellow gaze, droopy hair and a dorky sweater-vest under his suit, he didn't begin by telling the class what they would be doing or what materials they needed for the class. Instead, he began to wax poetic about the nature of beauty. Juliana did her best to pay attention, but he was getting a bit rambly, to be honest.

"Let me ask you all something," he said mid-ramble,

"What is beauty? To you, what is beautiful?"

Juliana's gaze drifted automatically to a particular student sitting across from her: Nemona, her new neighbor, classmate, rival, and friend all rolled into one. A private little smile found its way onto Juliana's face.

"Hm, nobody wishes to speak up? I suppose I'll need to call on someone . . . ah, you, it was Juliana, wasn't it?"

Juliana jerked a little, caught off guard.

"Ah! Um! Y-yes?"

"Yes, Juliana. You looked very thoughtful just now. Tell me, what is beauty, to you?"

"It, uh, w-well . . ."

Juliana felt her hands tremble a little, uncomfortable being in the spotlight. She struggled to think of something to say.

"I-it, um, it . . . s-something that makes you feel really good inside?"

She blushed under all the stares, realizing she had to do better than that.

"I-I mean, r-really, warm a-and, light, and the feeling just fills you up inside, and you don't have any control over it, it's just there. And you know nothing can ever take it away. Like . . . like sunlight. It feels like sunlight, whenever you look at he-- uuh, it! At it! I mean, at-- at-- at something beautiful!"

There were giggles from some of her classmates and Juliana quickly slumped in her seat, hiding her head in the crook of her arms, her face reddening. Oh god oh god, nobody noticed her slip of the tongue, right?

She didn't notice the teacher had walked closer until he spoke again, his voice a little gentler than before.

"That's a beautiful answer, Juliana."

She shyly looked up at him, feeling reassured by the teacher's approval. He smiled at her kindly.

"I'm very glad that you've found something-- or someone-- that inspires you so greatly."

He then turned, addressing the rest of class,

"There is no right or wrong answer, of course, so do not fret if this is not how any of you feel-- beauty can mean different things for each of us, you see . . ."

As he paced away from her, continuing his lecture, Juliana couldn't help her gaze returning to Nemona for a moment.

She found those beautiful amber eyes on her, and Juliana buried her face in the crook of her arms again.

She was embarrassed, but she still felt light as a feather, like her chest was full of sunshine.

[habeascorpseus]

Ive decided to post this solidaritek drabble i wrote during double life, after the ranch was burned down. Hope y'all enjoy solidaritek from me still.

———

"Its a nice night for it, ey?"

Tango tilts his head towards his partner's voice, eyes not moving from the campfire he's been stoking for the better part of an hour. His eyes burn from the thick smoke, and his hands still shake with the aftershocks of quickly-repressed fury, wishing more than anything that he could run to Grian and Scar's base and hurl the burning wood over the walls. Instead, he purses his lips, poking the burning wood with his sword and watching it cave, burnt from the inside till the outside was a charred hollow shell, easily split by Tango's measly, useless sword.

"I guess it is," he says, and internally cringes at the lack of enthusiasm on his part. Jimmy's just trying to make the best of a bad situation.

crackle. pop. sizzle.

But he'd rather not think about it.

His partner is sitting on their shared bedroll, and Tango doesnt even need to look at him to picture the vacant look in his eyes, which are equally glued to the fire between them. Jimmy continues,

"Of course it sucks that it happened like this, but this almost feels... familiar, for some reason."

sizzle. crackle. pop.

The flames burn reddish orange, almost scarlet where they lick against the dark night sky, bursting into a tiny inferno as he plunges his sword deep into the smouldering pile. Breathe in, breathe out. Don't think about what the future brings with the rising sun.

"Yeah. familiar," he says.

A couple seconds later, he's flinching back, a small pebble grazing his cheekbone and whizzing past him into the night. Finally, tango looks up at his partner, mouth open to begin yelling, when he suddenly sees his Jimmy's face. The other man is smiling, hair singed and smile more forced than usual, but he's smiling. There's a shiny, small burn on his cheek, and his eyes are red, both from the reflection of the fire and the smoke billowing into their faces. They remind him of his own— just another terrible reminder of what a mess he's saddled his new friend with.

Before he can open his mouth, Jimmy crosses his arms and gives him a look.

"Look, buddy. i know things are bad right now- im dumb, but I'm not stupid. You sulking around waiting for revenge won't help at all."

Tango snorts derisively.

"What else can i focus on?"

Jimmy's harsh, forced smile softens, looking wistful and genuine as anything he's ever encountered on this server.

"Well, we're still alive, aren't we? And I'm still here." He leans back on their bedroll, holding himself up with his elbows, and looks up at the sky. "It's a somewhat pleasant sunmer night, all of the good food survived, and, again, we're here together."

Tango shakes his head, rolling his eyes fondly.

"Okay, sappy. I get it. But how do you do that? How do you get over being pissed so easily?"

Jimmy snorts.

"Oh, believe me, im mad. But after a lot of getting pushed around, you get used to focusing on the small things."

"Oh."

"It's gonna be a long night, I know," Jimmy says with a smile, holding his arms out. "But it'll go faster with cuddling."

Tango doesnt need to be offered twice, practically tossing away his sword to fall into Jimmy's arms. His skin is cool to the touch. His heart beats in time with Tango's through their shirts, steady and determined.

crackle. sizzle. pop.

He curls up in the arms of his soulmate, closes his eyes, and decides not to think about it all.

[alilbihh]

!!!!! um... I don't know if you want to write about new ones or not... but I also can't think of any new ideas since I'm freakin out a bit but I'll do some more thinking so.... um... a short little drabble or maybe a snippet of their lives in spring leaves after they confessed, how life is fr them now....?

i had a really fun time with this one, thank you to my designated spring leaves fan for requesting :) I hope it's up to your standards!!

masterlist

words: 1.5k

There is a quiet peace in marriage that you’re still coming to terms to.

It goes beyond learning each other’s habits, or making time for each other, or even whispered words of love. It is more the realization that you are loved— the knowledge that you can take care of yourself, but now, you are creating a space where you can take care of each other. That you could be trying to open a particularly difficult pickle jar and Jimin could take it and say “Let me help you,” that in it, there exists a prayer for which no words are said: You could do it yourself, but why should I let you, when I am here, and you are loved?

That being loved in this way is a choice, one that you both continue to choose.

Jimin chooses this, still, as he runs in tune with your pace, when you both know he could leave you in the dust.

(That morning, a gentle arm tries its best to slip out from under your head without waking you. When you groggily come to, even in your haze you can see the guilt on Jimin’s face. 

“Sorry,” He says, pulling his arm out the rest of the way to run a hand through your hair.

“S’okay,” you croak, cupping the back of his head to pull him back down to bed. He’s smiling as he complies, lets himself be pulled, be held, and when you wrap your arms around his neck, he wraps his arms around you, too.

Just as you’re trying to gather your thoughts into one coherent sentence, Jimin pipes up from where his nose is pressed into your shoulder, body twisted into an awkward angle as he leans into you, “Gotta go.”

“Where?” You say, then, “Oh. Running? Don’t go. Let’s cuddle instead.”

You feel his lips move before the words are even formed, feel the way they curve into a smile. “I can’t. And we cuddled all night already.”

“So what? Are you tired of me? Am I not appealing to you anymore?”

“So dramatic.” He laughs quietly. “You could always go running with me.”

You think for a second. It’s not like you don’t want to keep him company, moreso that if you were to try and get up, you’re pretty sure your legs would turn to jelly. You would barely walk, let alone run, given that it’s—you squint at the clock(oh my god, is that a seven?)— well. Very early.

Except.

“I’ll run with you.”

Jimin blinks. “What?”

“Yeah. Cuddle for thirty minutes and I’ll run with you.” He gives you a dubious look. “I’m serious! Set an alarm. Thirty minutes.”)

As he stops you from snoozing the alarm for a third time and practically puts your shoes on for you, you’d already accepted the fact that he’s well built. Jimin stretches, and jogs, and lifts, and it’s not like you can’t run, rather that you’d prefer to be doing, well, anything else.

Still, he works to match your pace, a gentle rhythm on the pavement as you make your way around the house, through the garden, past the greenhouse. Not through the forest like he usually does, since it’s dry around this time of the year, and the fungi would rather be left alone.

Well. A water break would be nice.

“We’re almost at our bench,” He’s saying, and you’re struggling to understand him past the need to lie down on the dirt and die. “We could rest up a bit and continue, yeah?”

“Good. Good plan.”

You practically collapse on the bench. You’ve sat here plenty of times, what with the way it sits neatly between the garden, the hydrangeas and the back of the house, but never have you felt so relieved to have leftover humidity and dried up dirt on your butt. You pat the bench in thanks. Good bench.

Your head lolls against his shoulder. “I don’t like you.”

“You offered to come! We made a fair transaction!” He laughs, his skin sun-kissed and sweaty and pretty. He leans his head over yours, “C’mon, it’s just a mile left, back the way we came.”

“A mile? Still?”

“It’ll be quick! We can walk the rest of the way.”

Your voice is muffled from how your cheek is pressed to his shoulder, “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of going on a run?”

“If you can be a smartass that means you don’t have to sit anymore,” He feigns getting up long enough to draw a whine from you, and he’s laughing when he leans back. You move to glare up at him indignantly, and take the opportunity to stare. He’s so bright. The sun rose twice this morning.

You bump your forehead back against his shoulder, and he seems to take that as an opportunity to kiss the crown of your head, hands working their way over your arms and down to your hips. “Still don’t like you,” You grumble.

Another kiss. “What was it you said to me yesterday? Something like...'You’re weird and that’s why I like you?’” Jimin presses a trail of them up to your jaw, letting them linger.

“A lapse of judgement.” You say, but you’re melting into him anyway, and when he laughs, it rumbles through his chest and down your throat all the way to the tips of his hands where they now touch your bare skin, the very edge of where hip meets belly.

“Brat,” He smiles against your neck, half-whispered. His hand trails down further until it reaches your fingers, playing with your wedding ring. Something fond flutters in your chest. “Do you ever think about our wedding?”

“All the time,” You say, voice embarrassingly breathy, but you’re too scraped raw to come up with excuses for it. “Still dream about it sometimes, too.”

“Yeah?” He says, soft, but there’s a trepidation, there. Like he’s still trying to find the best way to words his thoughts. You love that about him, so you hold his hand back, letting both your rings tap together delightfully, giving him the space to think. After a while, he continues, “I still regret those first few months. How I treated you.” You open your mouth to reply, take a breath and everything, but he pinches the skin of your hand to stop you, “I know you say I shouldn’t, but I do.”

Because that’s the thing about Jimin: he gives too much of himself away, loves too openly, too eagerly. Never asks to be more comfortable, as long as the other person is. His heart stretches to make room until it bleeds, like a mother’s womb, and you’re worried about what will happen if it ever were to stretch too thin.

(You’d told him, once— you don’t have to please anyone, you know— and, please, put yourself first sometimes, Jimin smiled, a little sad, said: I don’t know how, anymore.)

“I never blamed you for it.” You’re so close you can feel each time he draws a breath. It’s soothing. “There was nothing to forgive.”

“You say that, but. But.” He makes a soft noise. “I didn’t make it any easier.”

I am very much in love. It’s not new, nor a belated sort of realization. It was a belated realization at one point, surely, but not now. Now, it’s as worn through a fact as any other you know, something else to tuck away for safe-keeping.

You are in love, and so is he, and so even if the beginning was rough and unfair, everything that happened in your life that led up to it has been worth it.

You hold him a little tighter. “Not everything can be easy.”

For a moment you both sit there, listening to the gentle breeze, the distant sounds of the waking world. There’s a far-off chirp, like that of a baby bird learning to sing, and overhead, the early morning dew is giving way to a foggy sky. Spring is on its way again. Each one is getting easier than the last.

After what feels like a long time, Jimin raises his head. You stare. Not everything can be easy, but this is. Loving Jimin is the easiest thing in the world.

“Do you want to get married again?”

For a moment, you feel the world’s axis start to tilt towards the sun.

“What?”

He smiles, something slow and tentative. “Wll you marry me?”

Inexplicably, you laugh. “Again?”

“Again.”

“Jimin.” You feel Jimin grow in happiness. You feel like you’re growing, too. “If this is because you feel bad—”

“No. I want this.” He draws circles over your fingers, tightens his hold. “I want this very much.”

Never has the world felt so vibrant, and so, so lived in.

“I think.” You breathe. “I want that, too.”

(“Can we celebrate both anniversaries?”

“Brat.” Jimin laughs, all curled up around you. Has he always been this warm? “I’ll make sure to schedule the wedding on the same date as before.”

“What the hell!”

He’s still laughing as he kisses you, both hands cupping your neck, and there’s no hesitance in how he loves you.

You think, for a moment, about how every question you had about loving Jimin has been answered: He smiles into his kisses. He rolls his head back when he laughs. And—

He tastes like the sun.)

[blizzardsuplex]

Holiday Practice Drabble #1

Happy holidays, everyone! In an attempt to get back to exercising my writing muscle, I am accepting drabble prompts for basically anything prowres related for the next day or so. This one is for @shes-a-voodoo-child's prompt of Kyle O'Reilly + a treat/reward/gift.

I went with the first thing that came to mind (and will probably do so for any other requests) so sorry in advance :') Under the cut:

The gift shoved his way is more swaddled than wrapped in striped red and white. Combined with the shape of the object itself - long, relatively thin, and curved at one end - it looks like a massive candy cane (albeit one so beaten up on its way to store shelves that rolls of scotch tape were sacrificed to maintain its shape).

But that’s just the wrapping paper, Kyle knows. As for what’s under it…

Across him, Roderick Strong and Eddie Edwards look at him expectantly. “Well?” Eddie says.

“You…didn’t have to get me anything, guys,” Kyle begins. He’s not as obsequent as his tag team partner, but he's still new to Ring of Honor; he didn’t move across the border and sleep in his car for months to blow it pissing off locker room veterans. Also: what kind of impolite monster had their first instinct be to open gifts right after getting them in front of the people who’d given it in the first place? ���I appreciate it, though. Really. Thanks.”

“Sure,” says Roddy with an easy nod. Neither he nor Eddie make to leave.

If Kyle doesn’t manage to completely hold back a sigh, it’s lost in the rustling of removed gift wrap. “Huh,” he says, feeling the heft of the present in his hand. That it was a hockey stick was obvious; that it didn’t seem, on initial inspection, to be a shitty one? Less so. “How’d you guys know I played hockey?”

He kind of regrets the words as soon as he says them. Eddie laughs, which doesn’t help the sudden anxiety he feels. “I mean, it’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Roddy agrees, cocksure. In this moment, Kyle is painfully aware of his flannel and beanie.

“What do you mean?” he asks, preparing for the worst.

“We saw the skates in your car! And,” Eddie continues, “we’re not judgy or anything, O’Reilly, but you don’t really seem like the figure skating type.”

“At least,” Roddy says, “not if you’d half-ass it…”

Kyle might have asked what that was supposed to mean instead - at least, if he didn’t feel a deep sense of relief. “Oh,” he says, letting his guard down for the first time since the two had cornered him at this Christmas party. In fact, he feels a bit blindsided by this show of random kindness. “Well, this is actually really thoughtful of - “

“…and, I mean. You are Canadian.”

There we go.

[captainaikus]

Oh ew the OF accounts and sex bots are completely getting out of hand. I haven’t been notified of any new followers but I don’t trust tumblr to do so. I’m have to gonna check on that soon 🙄🙄.

And seriously for what reason are people flagging down your works for like 😭😭?? It literally makes no sense??? Some people are so rude and mean and spiteful for no reason like. Do better or screw off unintentionally quoting Ego here I’m sorry that this happened to you, it really sucks.

Ever since break started I’ve been in a kind of limbo. It feels so surreal not having any work to do. I mean I do have basic chores to do today like the laundry and vacuuming and stuff but besides that it’s a free day. I am. Very very very. Temped to start reading the blue lock manga. I know I said I’d wait for the anime to finish but like I need something to do 😭😭. I was starting my first TR reread since the last chapter but I only got in 3 chapters before I started sobbing and I haven’t even gotten to Akkuns first death or met Mikey and Draken for the first time again yet. I’m gonna have to chunk my way through it while sobbing and taking so many breaks because I will seriously never recover from this manga. OH AND I LOVE CHIFUYUS BIRTHDAY ART. Wakui continuing to attest that yes takefuyu are still canon in the reset timeline. It’s such a relief for me because those two are my comfort duo 😭😭😭. I also want to finish Chainsaw Man soon. I stopped at around volume 9 because I’m broke and was reading it at the bookstore and all I can say is that this series is definitely getting a reread cause I love analyzing strange works and concepts. THE MAITAKE COVER ASJKGFJKHFFGGG. The way I screeched when I first saw it like. I love how you worded it, they literally look like royalty together UGH. Suffice to say that yes maitake fans has a field day with the cover of volume 31 😌😌. I cant wait for the inside cover to be revealed. My prediction/demand is that it’s gonna be then as children childhood-friends-to-lovers. But I guess we’ll see.

Anyways. How are you Belle? Doing better I hope? How’s uni? Oh and when does your winter break start? How’s life? Im so happy tumblr is being cooperative now and letting you see my tagged posts 😭😭. Sorry for the constant tagging tho, there’s just so much I wanna share and I see something and I’m like “oh I wanna show this to Belle” you know? Oh and im so glad you liked that Oliver drabble 🥹🥹. I’ve got another one in mind for him but this time it might be a little more ✨spicy✨ so stay tuned 👀👀😌. I hope you have a great day and that the caramel frappuccino tasted great!!! *sending many virtual hugs*

- ✨ anon

Istg- i got followed by accounts from Czechia and Carolina this morning. Alright, I made my pinned post of Gojo's OF account but this is a writing blog; not even an OF promotion blog (╥﹏╥) unless... i draw some stuff

Tumblr decided to not let me post my rant- so here’s what I had to say

I revisited my childhood with watching DBZ... (i knew i said i would start one piece but the gym bro-ness got the better of me and i started watching it) someone please explain why does Goku's voice sound... i don't know how to describe it. i was so shocked about his voice, i was planning on watching the dub instead cause of it *crying* Honestly, Wakui did a really good job with the cover. Even when I was reading mangas online - I was so awed by the covers of the manga and when TR was on its peak here, i saw a lot of spoilers for bonten mikey. I never liked mikey... but this made me change my mind. And they (like every cover character i saw up until the Brahman arc looked like royalty. Even hanma-) I'm doing well! Contemplating to change the blog theme for some reason. It's not gonna be aiku ofc- he gets 0 screen time cause he hasn't come back from italy and i am mad at him with part 1 to ocean hues I'm on my winter break actually and omw back home. Fifa knocked the wind out of me. I feel sad cause Mbappé played really well (and he was sad too when they lost), i literally went to go keep my plate and he scored in 97 seconds of the first goal T.T . But i'm also really happy for Argentina cause its the first time in 36 years since Maradona that they have won the Wc and i cried cause they were crying on the field not to mention the fact that Messi played in their team as well - so it was bittersweet ending but also very well deserved! And yes i am a football head I can't see you in my activity still (maybe your visibility switch is off? i'm not sure) but i do get the number on my activity and that's how ik that you're there (⑅ •͈ᴗ•͈ ) I actually don't mind being tagged! and I enjoy the things you have to show me as well ૮⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝ ა (i saw some stuff where you tagged me- i'll be answering those soon, promise i'm not ignoring you ૮(˶˃ᆺ˂��)ა ) I. absolutely. loved. the Oliver drabble ˃̵ᴗ˂̵. I still read it btw, cause it is absolutely precious. the deer headrest and the fact he wants to be a good boy made me go (๑✪ᆺ✪๑) did you say spicy 💀 *here lies Isabelle Aiku; beloved wife of Oliver Aiku who is unaware that he is married to her- * Starry you're gonna make me combust from the heat *sending back bear hugs*

*my man is so handsome (>﹏<) and yours is too*

[scribbleanddoodle]

a/n: it'd probably suck getting your period in the zombie apocalypse, so I made it happen to one of my characters. just a brief drabble just to write something!

When Tee pulled down her pants, blood was dotting her underwear. She slumped and sighed, head tilting up in resignation as her eyes fluttered shut. It made sense; her irritability, the bloating, the stomach cramps, and not to mention, the almost unignorable craving for a greasy cheeseburger. Her period was always on time, and it was frankly ridiculous how it continued to surprise her, but she supposed she had other things to think about. There were zombies outside, after all, but that, honestly, should have made her more careful. They loved the smell of blood, and every month, without fail, her vagina bled. It wasn't like she had regular access to birth control anymore, but on the bright side, a regular period meant she was still healthy, right?

She tugged her backpack closer and rooted around, sending a silent prayer into the ether of this broken world that she had an old tampon buried somewhere. Back in the day, she would have preferred a pad. Girls from high school had made fun of her for that once. 

Why would you want to sit around in a diaper? One girl, Hannah Connelly, had loudly announced to her whole Spanish class after discreetly asking if she had one, That's gross! Its blood! 

Toxic shock syndrome was gross too, Hannah Connelly. And also, tampons were uncomfortable. And also also, it wasn't like she was sitting around in a pad all day. She changed them, and she cleaned herself off. Pads were perfectly sanitary, thank you. 

"Stupid fucking, Hannah," She growled, throwing items out of her pack until she gave up and kicked the useless thing away. 

Tee fell back onto the toilet, no longer patient enough to pretend to squat over it. She was already on her period; what was a little gonorrhea on top?

Sitting on the can, Tee took a moment to collect her thoughts. She hadn't come across any new boxes of tampons in a while, or pads, for that matter. Tampons were preferable, but only because they kept the blood and, it seemed, the smell inside. She had done a few experiments, and zombies smelt pads before they smelt tampons; point one for Hannah. Unfortunately (a real shame for all the Hannah Connellys out there), it looked like everyone was now shit out of luck, pad users and tampon users alike, because there wasn't any more of both products left for pilfering.

It looked like it was finally time for her to revert back to the old-old days when ladies had special pieces of reusable fabrics that they washed the blood out every other night. At least, that's what she assumed they had done. It was what her mom had told her anyway when she had asked once after her first period. There were plenty of spare fabrics around, and instead of keeping them, she could toss the things out, maybe even use them as decoys. Hey, weaponizing her monthly "gift" that was resourceful, right? It could be eco-friendly. 

She laughed loudly, her voice bouncing off the empty truck stop bathroom. 

"Eco-friendly," She snorted, thinking about oil fracking, carbon footprints, and nuclear waste like those problems mattered anymore. 

Tee relaxed on the toilet, deciding then that if she was stuck thinking her way out of this problem, she might as well take a shit while doing it. She took her time, stripping a chunk of fabric from her coat lining and wrapping it around her underwear. It was summer now, and she figured she'd come across another coat before it started getting cold, and it wasn't like she was going to use toilet paper. She wasn't in middle school.

She'd also be on a more diligent lookout for a box of tampons, making sure to only use them on her heaviest days. Then, nodding to herself, she reached for the toilet paper but was only met with an empty plastic roll. 

"Oh, come on!" She cried, hitting the empty dispenser as if it'd magically produce paper, "Fuck!"

 Eight years into this bullshit, you'd think she'd learn by now to check if toilet paper was in the stall before dropping a fat one. It was frankly ridiculous how this also continued to surprise her. 

"Well..." She sighed again. It looked like it really was sayonara to her coat.

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

"Ey, didja fall in, Tee-bird?" Javi smiled, leaning against a car. 

Tee yanked the zipper closed and slung it over her shoulder, "You don't even want to know." 

"Something dead?" He hummed, tossing the keys up and down. 

"Dying, in the process of. Me." She huffed, staring at the car, "Does this thing actually have gas?" 

"Nah, but she's pretty, right? Don't look in the back seat, though. That's not pretty." He tsked, "Poor lady." 

She adverted her eyes away from the car and back to him, "Well, lo siento, but we gotta get moving. This chica started her period."

"Ahhh," Javi's smile spread, "that explains a lot, actually." 

The budding dread in her chest spread quickly, and she bit her lip in thought, "You're telling me. Where are we gonna find a place to hide for a week? Here? In the middle of nowhere?" 

"Hey, come on, it'll be okay, no need to worry," Javi pulled her into a one-arm hug as they started down the road, "we always find a place." 

Except for the one time they hadn't, she wanted to argue, except they didn't talk about that. They never talked about that. She couldn't talk about that. It still hurt. Too much. 

"Yeah," She said before tacking on, "and, by the way, I need a new coat. Do. Not. Ask." 

"Noted," he nodded, ruffling her hair. "Now, come on, there's a town around here somewhere," He flapped the map in her direction, "and a town means houses!" 

"And zombies." 

"And zombies! Good job! But also food! And I need food." 

A cramp rolled through her lower gut, and she groaned, "So do the zombies.

[minniepetals]

Oh no oh no oh no now you’ve gotten me hooked on that little genie drabble minnieeeeeeeeeeee 🥺 would it be possible to get a continuation

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17

“Hey, can I have a taste of that?”

Hoseok looks up with narrowed eyes your way. “You’ve never asked for food before.”

“I’m curious,” you say.

“I didn’t know genies could eat human food.” You shrug lightly, eyes solely rested on the spaghetti he’s cooking up so, knowing he can never refuse something from you, Hoseok spins a fork into the pot before hovering it over you. You open your mouth and he feeds you the content. “How is it?”

“Whoa.” Your eyes light up once you finish chewing and swallowing. “I want more!” You quickly turn back to him and he chuckles with amusement at the way the tomato sauce has somehow made its way onto the coner of your lips. “Fourth owner, it’s delicious!”

He goes on to wipe away the sauce with his thumb as you fall excited all over again with your new discovery. “Alright, alright, calm down.”

“How can I calm down when I’ve just had my first human food?! Ahh, I’m gonna go tell the seventh owner about this!”

He laughs when you fly off on your own, always one to report your discoveries back to Jungkook no matter how busy the man is. It’s probably because the maknae never refuses your presence no matter where he is or what he’s doing. He could be in the middle of a meeting and excuse himself for a moment just to indulge in your antics and give you a pat on the head, praising you before returning to his work.

You’re spoiled by him.

.

.

“By the way, you’re rich aren’t you?” Dressed in a causal long white skirt with a pretty blouse, you walk on your two little feet beside Namjoon, pretending to be a human among the humans. Most days you’ll make yourself only appear visible before your owners but today you insisted accompanying Namjoon on his errands.

“Well,” he shrugs as he check his phone, seemingly busy, “I am the boss of a mafia so I can get anything I want at the snap of my fingers.”

“Huh.” You turn around, walking backwards, head tilted to the side as you look around at the humans who’re walking around. “So that’s why the seven of you have literally nothing to wish for. You already have human genies at the expense of your money.” You sigh, turning back to walk right again. “You know I’m starting to get a little bored not granting anyone’s wishes.”

“I thought you enjoyed not doing that.”

“You’re just different, alright?” You pout. “Even though you deal with some illegal things, you’re all better than all my previous owners. They were always greedy and wanted everything I had to list out the rules to them a billion times whenever they wanted to wish for something, and you know! One of them even asked me to have a woman submit to them! How ridiculous is that?!”

From the corner of his eyes, he sees your figure on the verge of floating up in mid-air so Namjoon brings his head to rest on your head, pushing you back on the ground.

“It’s like, they think if they can’t get their way, a wish from a genie will grant all their happiness but maybe if you try being a decent human, they’ll actually have women fawning over them rather than forcing their hearts. I hate humans like that.”

“Uh-huh.” 

You take his hand off your head when you turn to look up at him, thinking that perhaps Namjoon just wants you to stay near him so you resort to holding his hand instead. His followers walking a few feet behind (who has no idea what you’re spewing about), falls confused at the way you casually hold their boss’s hand but when Namjoon does nothing to shake you off, they know they can’t do anything about it.

“So you’re saying there are certain rules that keep you from granting a wish?” He asks and you nod.

“I can’t kill people — I once had a King ask for that but obviously it’s wrong for a supernatural being to get involved with human wars, you know? So never ask me to do something like that, I neither want to do such a job nor is it within my power — though honestly, if you’re a mafia boss, that would mean you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself, right? So it’d be dumb to wish for me to do it because you’re also powerful enough and you have men at your disposal to do something like that. But then again, a literal King, who, mind you, was also quite powerful, had literally asked that of me when he himself could have just…” Realizing you’re falling off to a tangent, you clear your throat as you return to the subject of the matter.

“I also can’t bring back the dead — which can get quite heartbreaking but once someone’s gone, I can’t manipulate with their fate and it’d create a huge problem with the laws of the world. And I also can’t force human feelings like love, for example.”

“...Really?”

“It’d be quite cruel if I could,” you say. “Imagine forcing someone who’s meant to love someone else to love a certain person. I’d ruin their future whether they love their fated ones during their current time or not. Humans are meant to go through different stages in their lives without anyone forcing their hands. That’s why it’s better to wish for materialistic things, that way we don’t mess with the laws of the world and ruin anyone’s lives.”

“Hmm. That makes sense. So then,” you look up at him when he turns to you, “you mentioned the owners can also make a wish to become a genie or set the genie free by wishing for them to become human?”

“Yup!”

“Well then what do you wish for?”

“Huh?”

“Since me and the guys have no need for anything at the moment, do you have anything you want?”

“Me?” You blink, taken back by his question. No one’s ever asked you for such a thing so getting put on the spot like that makes your mind fall blank. “Um…”

“We’ll grant you whatever wish you want.”

“A role reverse huh? Sounds fun,” you grin. “Then…I want to eat human food everyday from now on. Just like my seven owners.”

Namjoon chuckles. “Alright. Consider it done,” he says. “Anything else?”

“I want that!” You point towards a small bakery store that displays a few desserts from their windows.

“Cake?”

“I heard they’re delicious, I wanna try one!”

You look as excited as a little kid he can’t help but want to get you everything your finger points at. “Alright then.”

“Mr. Kim?” 

But just as the two of you were about to walk towards that direction, you hear a voice calling out for Namjoon and you both turn around to find a lady approaching.

She’s pretty, wearing probably high expensive clothing with dress pants, a white blouse, and a blazer jacket hanging over her shoulders. Her sunglasses falls atop the bridge of her nose as she spots the way you’re holding Namjoon’s hand, eyes looking up at her with confusion and naivety, with no chance of letting Namjoon’s hand go.

“Who’s this?” She asks and you note at the way Namjoon hesitates.

Oh crap, you never told him your name. Do you even have a name? All your previous owners have called you genie so even if you did have a name, it’s been centuries since anyone has called you by a proper name so you don’t even remember to think of one.

You’re genie to your owners. Just genie.

But because your current owners are treating you so well and allowing you to roam freely in the human world, you should have known to make up a name for yourself.

But how does one do that?

“A friend of mine,” Namjoon states but her eyes doesn’t look away from the hand holding.

You fall suspicious as to why.

“A friend?” She raises a brow before turning her attention your way. “Any friend of Namjoon’s is a friend of mine. I’m Yoon Seji, you are?”

You stare at the hand that holds out to you, blinking in confusion. You think you’ve seen how this works before. Humans shake hands when they meet one another, don’t they? All you have to do is reach out and hold her hand. Sounds easy, right?

But if you shake her hand, doesn’t that mean you have to introduce yourself? She’s already given you her name so it’ll be your turn if you accept her handshake. But you don’t even have a name to begin with. But it’d be rude to not shake her hand. But you don’t have a name.

Oh god, you’re freaking out.

Namjoon comes to the rescue. “Forgive her, Miss Yoon, my friend here isn’t familiar with such customs. She came to visit from a different country so she does not mean to be rude.”

She blinks. “Handshakes aren’t universal?”

“Not in her country.”

“Where is she from?”

“That is a question she’d rather not disclose.” 

Though her brows fall with suspicion, Yoon Seji decides to not pry any further. “Surely I can get a name, no?”

Why is she so adamant about getting to know you? You feel like this human has something for your first owner but unfortunately for her, he already has your six other owners by his side so she’s too late for that.

You tug onto Namjoon’s arm to beckon him to lean down so he does, lending you his ear. “I don’t have a name,” you whisper to him.

Huh. So that’s why you never introduced yourself formally to them in the first place.

“I apologize, Miss Yoon, but we must get going.”

“W-wait–!”

She doesn’t get to say another word as Namjoon’s already walking off with you in hand.

[kjack89]

An Early Morning at the Art Studio

For @themiserablesmonth Day 17: Friendship.

I had a long day at work today and didn't have time to actually write something completely new, so I repurposed a slightly shorter drabble from like a year ago that never made its way onto AO3. So if you recognize this at all, no you don't :P

Modern AU, E/R, Grantaire and Feuilly friendship because it's also Feuilly week!

Read on AO3.

Feuilly liked getting to the art studio early, long before anyone else. For starters, he had a job he had to get to in the afternoon so it was really his only time of day when he could actually work on his art instead of, well, work.

It had the added benefit of the art studio usually being empty. Artists, as a whole, were not known for being early risers.

Especially Grantaire, whom Feuilly loved dearly, of course, but who had the tendency to distract Feuilly from what he was doing. Which is why Feuilly figured if he went in early and got done what he needed to, he could afford to mess around with Grantaire for the half hour or so that overlapped when Grantaire finally ambled in and when Feuilly had to leave.

This was why he was surprised as anyone else when he got to the art studio before the sun had even risen to find Grantaire already there. “Oh,” he said, stopping in his tracks in the doorway. “You’re here.”

Grantaire barely glanced up at him. “Try not to sound so disappointed.”

“Not disappointed,” Feuilly assured him, though that wasn’t quite true. “Just, uh, surprised.” He dumped his bag at his easel before adding, a little pointedly, “I honestly wasn’t sure you were aware that the building was open this early.”

“Fuck off,” Grantaire said, but he was laughing, just slightly, and he scrubbed a hand across his face before telling Feuilly, a little wrly, “Truth be told, I never exactly made it to bed last night, and staring at a blank canvas beats staring at a wall.”

Feuilly shrugged. “I guess,” he said, grabbing a brush and heading over to the sink. He couldn’t help but glance at the canvas Grantaire was working on as he slid past him, and was surprised to see the vague outline of a completely new project. Despite himself, his forehead wrinkled, and he couldn’t help but ask over his shoulder as he stood at the sink, “Aren’t you supposed to be working on…?”

He trailed off as he turned around to see the glare that Grantaire was giving him. “What are you, the deadline police?” he practically snarled, and Feuilly blinked at him, both eyebrows raised. Grantaire sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. “Sorry,” he said with another sigh. “That was bitchy, even for me.”

Feuilly just held his hands up placatingly. “All good,” he said, debating over whether he wanted to say anything else. Truthfully, he could guess why Grantaire was there so early, which was undoubtedly contributing to his sour mood, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to get into it before he’d even had his coffee.

Luckily, he was saved by Grantaire setting his brush down and stretching. “You want coffee?” he asked. “I’m gonna go to the place.”

“Sure,” Feuilly said. “Let me just grab my wallet—”

“Nah, I got it,” Grantaire said. “Least I can do for yelling at you before 7 am.”

Feuilly hesitated. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

Grantaire left to get coffee and Feuilly settled into his work. He barely noticed when Grantaire came back, just accepting the coffee cup with a silent nod, immersed in the project he’d been working on for the better part of two weeks now.

He might’ve continued like that all the way until his phone alarm went off to tell him it was time to head to work, were it not for Grantaire abruptly shouting, “Fuck!” and flinging his paintbrush across the room.

Feuilly glanced at the brush and the rather spectacular splatter of red it had left on the wall before looking over at Grantaire. “You, uh, good?”

“Oh, I’m fan-fucking-tastic,” Grantaire grumbled, slumping down on his stool and running a hand through his already frizzy curls.

Again Feuilly was faced with the choice of whether to say something or not, but maybe it was because Grantaire had bought him coffee, or maybe it was because he’d always lacked a little bit of self-preservation instinct, but this time, he found he couldn’t quite keep quiet. “So, uh…fight with Enjolras?”

Grantaire groaned. “Am I that obvious?”

Feuilly just gave him a look, because obvious had come and gone some two hours prior. “Dude.”

“Fuck off,” Grantaire sighed again with another groan.

Feuilly  hesitated again, this time weighing whether he wanted to pursue this further or not. But preservation instincts aside, he was a loyal friend, and Grantaire clearly needed someone in his corner. “You want to talk about it?”

Grantaire stared determinedly up at the ceiling. “I would rather let Bahorel try to pierce my nipple again.”

“Way too much information,” Feuilly said, barking a laugh. He paused before offering, “Look, you want support, or you want a kick in the ass?” Grantaire stared at him, and Feuilly shrugged. “I’m happy to help either way.”

Grantaire snorted. “I’ll bet you fucking are.” He gave Feuilly a searching look. “You could just let me wallow in my own misery.”

“A, what the fuck kind of friend would I be if I did that?” Feuilly asked bracingly. “B, your wallowing is annoying as fuck, and I have work to do, so let’s not pretend this is entirely selfless of me.”

Though Grantaire gave him the finger, he was laughing, just slightly, and he shook his head before saying, a little grudgingly, “In that case, kick in the ass, I guess.”

“Great,” Feuilly said, with no small amount of enthusiasm as he set his paintbrush down. The hard part was going to be pretending he wasn’t enjoying himself. “So.” He squared his shoulders and gave Grantaire a look. “Shut the fuck up and get to work. Moping over a boy? The fuck are you, in eighth grade?” Grantaire looked offended, but Feuilly didn’t let him interrupt. “You are a grown ass adult with grown ass responsibilities, and that includes finishing your damn work so you can get paid so you can keep a roof over your fucking head. Stop throwing a tantrum, picking up your fucking paintbrush, and I don’t want to hear any more bitching from you for the rest of the day. Capisce?”

Grantaire looked like he was trying not to laugh and Feuilly sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest and giving him a slightly withering look. “Y’know, it works a lot better if you at least pretend to take me seriously.”

“I’m sorry, it’s just, uh…” Grantaire half-smiled. “I actually moved in with Enjolras. So technically, he’s the one keeping the roof over my head.”

“Oh.”

Grantaire nodded, biting his lip a little hesitantly. “I know.”

Feuilly grinned at him, his attempt at verbally kicking Grantaire’s ass into gear momentarily forgotten, mainly because Enjolras and Grantaire taking that next step was genuinely exciting. “Dude, that’s—”

“I know,” Grantaire said.

“Ok, so then you need to get paid in case he decides to kick your ass out because you’re moping like you’re in eighth grade,” Feuilly said bracingly. Grantaire stared with wide eyes and Feuilly winced. “…You wanted me to stop kicking your ass and start being supportive, didn’t you.”

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “I mean, a little. But…” He made a face. “You have a point.”

Feuilly frowned slightly. “About Enjolras kicking you out?” he asked, hoping that their fight hadn’t been that bad.

But Grantaire just smirked. “Fuck no, he’s stuck with me now. All those times I had to listen to him rant about renters’ and squatters’ rights are really gonna bite him in the ass.” His smile faded into something slightly more rueful. “But about me moping.”

Feuilly allowed himself a moment of triumph before looking expectantly at him. “So…”

“So shut the fuck and let me work.” Feuilly barked a laugh but obediently turned back to his own easel. “And Feuilly?” Feuilly glanced over at him expectantly. “Thank you.”

Feuilly just grinned at him. “Anytime.”

[shurisneakers]

if you're taking ideas for harmless drabbles, i'd love to see one of bucky on one of those dates he mentioned and reader's shenanigans. if you aren't, feel free to ignore this!

a/n: are we really going to let a word limit define what a drabble is? is the vibe and spirit not enough? i say this bc this is 5.7k words long im so sorry. also hey thank you to everyone who piped in with their knowledge of violent geese and how apartment security works in new york!! also thanks to my bby @spiderrpcrker for reading this and telling me to publish this bc i wasnt going to fkjghfkj

warning: swearing, bad luck, dates, frustrated bucky, anxiety, mentions of gore but like only a sentence

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Catch up with the rest of the series here: Harmless Masterlist

Bucky returns only two weeks later. His mission lasted longer than expected and all he wants is to lie down and sleep for forty eight hours straight.

“FRIDAY?” he mumbles, kicking off his shoes. His jacket had already been discarded by his bedroom door when he walked in.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?”

“How are ya?” He doesn’t miss a beat in asking, even though he’s exhausted.

“As good as ever. Did you have a successful mission?”

“If by successful you mean one sprained limb instead of two, then yeah.” He wasn’t really cribbing. His ankle was already starting to heal anyway and it was worth the roundhouse kick to a Nazi's face. “Do I have anything scheduled for this weekend?”

“You have a meeting on your calendar scheduled for this Saturday.”

“Could you send a text to Y/N and ask if we can push it to the next day?” His muscles feel sore and God, he could definitely use a hot shower but all of that becomes secondary the minute he feels the sheets under him.

“Would you like me to reschedule the other one as well?”

“What’s that?” He opens one eye in confusion. “There’s another one?”

“It’s on Sunday. You’ve labelled it ‘date’.”

Ah, fuck.

“Would you like me to change it?” FRIDAY never sounds like she’s judging him, which is nice. It also reminds him about how she, as an AI, can’t judge him, which is a rude wake-up call to how he doesn’t have friends.

“No,” his voice is muffled against the pillow, “no, let it be. Where is it again?”

“You’ve only specified diner, Sergeant Barnes.”

Public space, daytime, plenty of escape routes. Good on his less delirious self for selecting a diner.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” Now that he’s a little more relaxed, he can feel himself slip in and out of consciousness.

“One last thing," her automated voice commands his attention again. "Y/N replied. She says sure and to take care.”

“Yay.” Not even a second later he’s out like a light.

____

“Did you bring me any souvenirs?” Is the first thing he hears as he marches into your lair.

“What could I possibly get you?”

“A postcard, a t-shirt.” You don’t look up from your tinkering.

“Decapitated finger, used bullets,” he continues, “cement blocks.”

“Ew.” You snap the lid shut on the thing you’re working on, spinning around on your chair. "That's not nearly romantic enough."

“That’s all you’re going to get from a Russian underground bunker.” He does a mini jog up the stairs of the platform to where you are.

“Does the finger have a ring at lea- oh hello?” You raise an eyebrow at the sight of him. “You look different.”

He peers down. The outfit was still all black. As always.

“Not your clothes, dummy,” you interrupt, making him look back at you. “Your face. What’d you do?”

He unconsciously raises a hand to his cheek.

“Did you wash your face? Is that it?” you squint at him. “Has it been a few months since the last time?”

“Wow, you’re so funny,” he drawls sarcastically.  “Top tier comedian right there.”

“No wait, it’s the beard.” You snap your fingers in realisation, completely ignoring his comment. “You trimmed it.”

“So what if I did?” He leans on your table.

“You going somewhere?” you ask, elastic snapping against your hands as you remove your gloves.

“It’s none of your busi-”

“Hold on a second.” A sly smile begins to make its way onto your face. “Are you going on a date, Bucky Barnes?”

His comeback dies down in his throat. That didn’t take you very long for you to figure out.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You look smug, to say the least.

“Shut up.” A ray of light glistening distracts him. He traces it to the thing you were working on earlier.

“Where are you guys going?” You cross your arm across your chest, a small smirk on your face.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It’s a silver box, engraved intricately with swirls that, when he observes carefully, looks like a skull. Wow, terrifying.

“I’m literally asking you.”

“What are those?” He shifts the conversation towards a more productive angle instead.

“Evil in a box and some other stuff.” You shrug offhandedly. “Is it a lunch date or just coffee?”

“Like Pandora’s Box?”

“A discount version, sure,” you confirmed impatiently. “Stop changing the topic, listen to me.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“Do you need a chaperone?” The sincerity in your voice for such a bullshit question has him scoffing.

“Good God- no, I do not need a chaperone. I’m 106 years old, I can go out unsupervised.” He reaches over and plucks the box off your table.

“Sir, you’re a geriatric."

“What are those?” He points to a few ray odd ray guns.

“Minor stuff you don’t have to worry about right now.”

He shakes the box in his hand. “What’s gonna happen if I open this?”

“Very bad things,” you whispered ominously before your volume returns to normal. “How’d you meet this person? Online?”

“She’s Natasha’s friend.” He turns the box over, seeing a small latch at the side. “What bad things?”

“Bad luck and misery. Don’t play with it, it’s dangerous.” You pull the box away from him. “Aw, is it a blind date?”

“Why do you care so much?” he shoots back, tugging the box back towards him.

“Just lookin’ out for you, Bucko,” you huff, adjusting your grip on your device. “Need to keep my favourite senior citizen safe.”

“I have a vibranium arm.” Whose force he could use to grab the box once and for all, but wasn’t. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“What if she has one too, huh? Then what?”

“She doesn’t.” As far as he knows, he’s the only one alive with a metal appendage made out of the strongest metal in the world. That could very well change by tomorrow but he's keeping the title for now.

“But what if she does? I swear to- stop trying to take the box!” You pull a little more forcefully, but he doesn’t relent.

“I want this to get over before this evening.”

“What time’s your date?”

“Why do you care?” He’s sure anyone who saw the dumb tug-of-war you both were playing would just automatically assume he was an absolute manchild, not an Avenger.

“Because.” You don’t explain further. “Tell me what time your date is, you weirdo.”

“Five o’clock, now let go.”

“Fine,” you say, suddenly loosening your grip. Clearly, it doesn't make much of a difference since he isn't struggling to keep his balance from the sudden loss of force.

“Fine.” He clears his throat, straightening up. 

You don’t say anything. He doesn’t either.

A putrid smell creeps into his nose, one all too similar to spoiled milk and decaying seaweed. He has to physically stop himself from gagging.

“Have a good day.” You smile and lean far back. Too far. It looks like you're almost going to fall out of the chair.

Through the tears that are threatening to line his eyelids, he looks down at the box whose latch you somehow managed to lift, leaving the box open.

“What the fuck is this?” He coughs, swatting at the air in front of him to clear it.

“I told you; bad luck in a box.”

“You can’t scientifically create bad luck, that’s bullshit.” He tosses the box back onto your table. You watch it slide past you, not making any effort to stop it. “What is it really?”

“I’m not lying.” You pull open a drawer, brandishing a small table fan that you set down beside you. “If you open it, you’re going to have terrible luck for the day.”

He glowers at you when you turn the fan on, forcing the fumes back towards him.

“Besides, that’s all I was doing today.” You kick your feet up. “So you can leave now.”

He doesn’t care if you’re lying about not having anything else to do today. You could burn down the world if you wanted to but he needs to take a stupid shower. Again.

“You’re the fuckin’ worst.” He tries airing out his shirt, hoping that the smell would dissipate as soon as possible.

“Have fun on your date, sarge!” you encourage him as he stalks out of the lair. “Remember to wrap it befo-”

He turns it into a sprint before you can finish.

____

Six hours later and he’s absolutely convinced he fucked up.

He isn’t used to having his weekends free.

He realises that this is the first time in months that he’s actually stepped out of the Tower for something that wasn’t directly mission-related. He should probably get some air. Touch some grass. See the sun.

His shirt thankfully manages to rid itself of the odour from the dumb box so he didn’t have to go take a shower. With nothing much planned and a few hours to spare, he heads to the coffee shop instead.

It’s a small place, bustling and alive with a crowd of people. They have a little bookshelf that usually is full of books donated by patrons, free for anyone to read.

The barista smiles at him. The coffee costs more than his high school education. He awkwardly smiles back.

He’s not a regular, but they’ve seen him enough times to know that he usually asks for black coffee in a to-go cup, later adding a sugar or two according to his own taste. They're nice to him, occasionally throwing in a cookie or something on the house. He can't tell if it's because of the Avenger status or the sizeable tip he leaves.

He picks up a random book from the shelf, fully intending not to read it but to just sit there and think. The book acted as a shield for his resting bitch face, resting murder face and his resting rage face. More often than not, a good combination of the three.

He sets the coffee down at the corner table he manages to nab in a quick second, along with the two sachets of sugar.

“Is this seat taken?” Someone asks from beside him. He earnestly shakes his head in a ‘no’, gesturing for them to take it.

They give him a quick thanks and drag the chair away from his table.

He does a quick overlook of the book he picked up.

The Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot.

Well, now he’s too anxious to put it back. YA fiction it is.

He reaches for the sugar while glossing over the summary. He reaches a little further when it doesn’t come to his hand immediately, blindly running his fingers across the table.

Bucky peeks over the book, eyebrows knitting together when he notices that they’re missing.

He was sure he picked it up.

He looks underneath the table. It wasn’t there, neither under his seat. Strange, but okay. He picks up the book and the cup, walking back to the station to grab two sugars.

This time he makes sure to tuck it into his pocket, double-checking before going back to his table.

Which was now occupied. He wanted to groan.

His mind automatically reverts back to the box from that morning.

“Come on,” he scoffs quietly to himself. It was a coincidence. “Get yourself together.”

“A seat at the counter just cleared up,” the barista from earlier offers when she sees him standing in the middle of the store.

See? Good luck.

He shoots her a grateful look, venturing over to the barstool to take his place. It’s not the most comfortable, but then again, he wasn’t planning to stay there for very long.

He empties the sugar into the coffee, stirring slowly before opening a random page in the book.

He takes a long sip, ignoring how hot the drink was.

He chokes immediately. Because either he was losing his mind or his order had somehow got switched from ‘no sugar’ to ‘diabetes in a cup’.

He takes another small sip and his face immediately twists in disgust. Definitely too sweet. The sweetener he added only made it worse.

He catches the eye of the barista. She looks on in concern.

“Is everything okay?”

Fuck.

He’s not one to make a scene. He just wants to live as imperceptibly as he could.

“Yep.” The sweetness sticks to the back of his throat. “All good.”

He just closes his eyes and downs the rest of it without thinking twice, trying to hide the grimace in his face. He gives her a weak thumbs up. She doesn't look convinced.

He leaves the shop soon after, hands shoved in his pocket. Maybe he could go sit by the lake at Central Park, watch the clouds. It reminded Bucky of the lake in front of his hut in Wakanda and the hours he'd sit in front of it, feet dipped into the water as his goats fed. He misses it.

He makes a sharp turn at a corner, still thinking about his options when his ankle abruptly twists under him.

He stumbles rather ungracefully, almost hitting the ground, but manages to save himself through the newly built up immunity he has towards falling thanks to all his encounters with you.

His gaze lands on his hardcore combat boots. Their laces had come undone.

Now he just knew that was horseshit. He always double knots them; they had never loosened in the past before.

The box.

He shoves the thought out of his head, crouching down to tie them again. He tugs on them to make sure they’re secure before standing up again.

Central Park is a few blocks away but he’s glad he didn’t bring his bike. The weather was rather nice and the wind in his hair felt good.

He wanders around the park for a while, looking for the lake. He pauses at a board with a map of the park on it, assessing how far it was.

Once he's ascertained which path to go towards, he turns on his heel to go.

He fucking trips again.

“Are you serious?” he says furiously under his breath. “Cut it out.”

He’s half-convinced that he should tie it around his ankle like a sexy lace-up set of heels. He ties a triple knot this time, glares at it until he’s sure it’s fine and checks to see if anyone saw him humiliate himself.

Only a person on a nearby bench who looked like they were passed out drunk, given that their hoodie and sunglasses clad self was slumped over.

No witnesses. No 'You won't BELIEVE what the Winter Soldier did! Critics say it's his biggest blunder yet!' articles the next day on social media.

He manages to make it to the lake in one piece and no more falls, partly because he keeps his eyes fixed on his shoes to ensure no fuckery occurs.

There are a few people rowing and plenty of others lining the bank at scattered locations. There’s a mom and her kid at the place he ends up. She sends him a small smile in greeting and he returns the favour.

There’s a secluded bench that he takes a place on, letting out a small sigh. If he ignores the traffic and the skateboarders and the people in general, it’s actually kind of peaceful.

There are geese and their little goslings swimming around the water close to the shore. Maybe he should have brought some birdseed. Or kale.

The kid beside him is busy fashioning something out of leaves, only occasionally erupting into giggles when it doesn't pan out. His mom watches him fondly, pointing at twigs he could use. Everything seems kind of picture-perfect and his body automatically relaxes, easing further into the seat and closing his eyes for a second.

Until there's a large splash and loud distressed honking. He whips his head around to find the same kid staring straight ahead at the goose with a wide grin. His mother curses quietly, picking herself up off the ground and grabbing his hand, half chastising him for throwing something at an animal and half urging him to walk faster.

The goose turns to Bucky. With no one else to blame for the sudden attack, it logically launches itself at him. His smile drops.

He gets up in a rush. The dumb bird nearly comes for his head, but he deflects with his metal arm.

“I didn’t even do anything.” He swats at it swiftly, trying not to cause any real damage. The goose, understandably, does not speak English.

He flinches when one of them bites at his knee. He can punt it to the sun but he doesn’t want to.

“Stop that.” He sticks his hand out to shove the stupid thing away, retreating back to the road. “Jesus, why are you so aggressive?”

Among the barrage of feathers showering on him, he prays his damn shoelace doesn’t unravel as he shields his head with one arm, the other fending himself while he moves hurriedly away.

The goose honks angrily at him. He scowls at it, not exactly pleased with the reminder that these fucking overgrown ducks were constantly bloodthirsty.

It doesn’t leave him alone till he’s significantly away from where he was sitting. He wants to call it profanity but that’d probably piss it off more.

The box and its effects were definitely starting to feel real.

Fuck it, no more day out for him. The best plan he can think of is to just go to the diner he’s supposed to meet his date at.

The waiter greets him with a courteous nod, which Bucky can only imagine was the best he could muster when a dishevelled 200-pound man walks in covered in goose feathers and irritation.

He won't admit that he’s too scared to eat lunch at this point because he can’t rule out food poisoning. He spends the next two hours on his phone playing Fruit Ninja and plucking feathers that accented his all-black outfit.

Several glasses of water later and a second before he’s about to beat his high score, someone taps on his shoulder, breaking him out of his concentration.

Motherfu-

He clenches his eye shut, inhaling deeply before turning around.

“James?”

“Hey, yeah, that’s me.” Bucky almost falls over the table with how fast he stands up, clearly underestimating his size. “Leah?”

“Hi.” She smiles and he finds himself smiling nervously along with her.

“Hi.” He steps out to pull out her chair for her and she laughs. "Nice to meet you."

“How long have you been waiting here?” she asks while setting down her bag.

“Around ten minutes.” He clears his throat to hopefully hide the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

“Just give me a second, I need to tell my friend I reached,” Leah pulls out her phone and he nods.

“Another glass of water for you?” The waiter seems less enthusiastic about Bucky’s 8th refill.

“Yes,” he answers, hoping he doesn’t call him out on it, “please.”

“You must be really dehydrated."

Bucky turns to look at him slowly. “I like the taste.”

He can’t really blame the guy. Bucky’s been there for hours without ordering anything solid, just leaching off their free water and complimentary bread basket.

“So, James.” She tosses her phone back into her bag, leaning forward on her palms easily. “Tell me about yourself.”

He had rehearsed this a million times. He could do this.

“I, uh,-”

“Menu?” Okay, so someone clearly had a vendetta against him.

“Thank you.” She takes it with a smile.

His morning debacle with the coffee flashes through his mind. Suddenly the idea of a diner didn’t seem so smart.

However, she’s already placed her order and George is standing beside him expectantly, daring him to ask for another glass of water, so he places his usual order and hopes that your stupid bad luck thing wore off.

He quickly learns that his date is laid back, and it isn’t hard to fall into a rhythm with her even though she’s the one asking most of the questions.

“How’d you meet Nat?” Is his attempt at one.

“She used to come in for lunch every week at the place I work.” Leah leans back in her chair. “She can really handle her alcohol.”

He’d be worried about Nat day drinking if he didn’t know about her complete inability to get drunk. She might as well have been downing glasses of lemonade.

“Yeah, she’s-” Intimidating, scary, cool “-really something.”

“She mentioned that you like movies.”  He definitely spends a lot of time watching them. “You got any recommendations?”

It’s easier to figure out how different things are or how much he missed out over the years through them. He’s glad he sat out the early 2000s, judging by their fashion sense and hairstyles.

He's watched several movies over the past few months, a few of them critically acclaimed and others who were just there for the cult following.

But now everything goes blank and the only thing that he can remember are the biopics made about Steve that were somehow hilarious for gifting him the mental image of Freddie Prinze Jr. dressed in the stars and stripes, and highly distressing for the number of historical inaccuracies. Contrary to popular belief, Stevie did not, in fact, consider running for president after he took up the shield, nor did he start his own bar chain.

He can’t name Oh Captain, My Captain starring Channing Tatum as his favourite movie on his first date and hope to make a good first impression.

“Despicable Me was kinda fun.” He wants to kill himself. “I mean, it’s the last one I saw.”

Her face twists in mild disgust, but he can tell it isn't ill-intentioned. “It's a good movie, but God, that just gave me some intense flashbacks to my aunt’s Facebook page. Don’t think I can look at a minion ever again.”

He sniggers with her. He doesn’t know what the context is.

He’s a little awkward, and he can definitely tell he isn’t the most open book but she laughs at some of his attempts at jokes. There’s a distinct discomfort he has lingering at the back of his mind prodding at him, telling him over and over again that he isn’t ready for something like this. A warning bell, asking him to leave as soon as possible because he was in a dangerous situation.

He remembers what his therapist told him about breathing and remembering that the resources he had available were greater than his anxiety and he tries to get out of his head. It takes a few minutes of acting like he's fine but he manages to do it.

Other than the one time he scalds his tongue on the coffee but played it off with a pained smile, shoving down thoughts of your stupid invention, things actually went okay.

It was nice, even though they decided by the end that it was better if they both gelled together better as friends. It lifts the strange fear he feels and he can hear Dr. Mendoza say she's proud of him for taking this step before spending three hours psychoanalysing why they decided to stay platonic.

Bucky promises to visit her sushi shop with Nat soon and she says a bottle of sake awaits him for a drinking game. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that Nat and he share the same tolerance for alcohol.

He makes sure to leave George a tip. A big one. It’s the first time he sees the guy smile the entire evening.

He’s waving goodbye to Leah outside and he thinks that maybe it was a good end to the day and that things actually turned out fine.

Until he turns around to leave, only to have someone walk straight into him with an iced tea.

The cold comes as a bit of a shock, making him jump slightly. He stares at his shirt, using his fingertips to pull it away from his body.

The person melts into a series of apologies immediately, offering to dry clean his shirt but Bucky just forces a shake of his head and says it’s okay even though he can feel the sugar making the shirt stick to his chest. Goose feathers and iced tea. Was there anything else that would like to attach itself to him?

His fists clench and his teeth grit and he has to physically control himself from sprinting to your lair because God knows what else is in store for him and he didn't want to add in any way.

The door to the lair is locked. Fuckin’ brilliant.

When no one answers after minutes worth of waiting, he fishes for his phone and realises that maybe two hours of Fruit Ninja was not the best idea, especially on a phone known for having shitty battery life.

There’s roughly 2 percent left. By the time he opens his app to give you a call, his phone screen goes black.

He groans. He’s desperate at this point and under any other normal circumstances, he would have never, ever considered doing this.

But ten minutes later he’s outside your apartment building. You’re aware that he has your address; no doubt that it was in the SHIELD file he had gotten, and he knows that you know but it was still weird.

The buzzer has your last name listed next to it. He’s sure that he’ll break it if he keeps pressing it at this rate but he really needs you to let him in.

“Who the fu-” your voice comes through the intercom.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this, my phone died and I couldn’t reach you,” He breathes out as soon as he hears you. “But I need you to fix this.”

When he doesn’t hear a reply, he wonders if the thing actually worked. He’s about to start pressing it again-

“Bucky?” You sound a little surprised to hear him. “You’re at my house. Why are you at my house?”

“I need you to fix whatever this is.”

“What are you- fine, I’m buzzing you in,” your voice, initially confused soon trails off into something more dismissive.

There’s a soft click from the door, allowing him to push it open. The elevator is already on the same floor as him so he just uses that.

The elevator goes up a floor or two. His feet tap restlessly against the carpeted floor.

The lights turn off and everything comes to a standstill. His foot stops tapping.

He should have known. He should have fucking known.

Thirty seconds pass. He’s still in pitch darkness with the elevator showing no signs of moving.

In fact, he’s resigned to his fate. He sits down on the ground, only one step away from completely laying down and hoping someone finds his body here someday.

It’s six minutes of plain silence. He might as well get comfortable if he’s going to get stuck here for the rest of his life. Did he change his will? Does he even have a will?

There’s finally a whir. He thinks that maybe he’s going to plummet to his doom as the perfect end to this day, but then the light switches on and it starts moving upward.

It stops at the floor with a ding. He doesn’t get off the ground, only eyes the door wearily. With his luck, it wouldn’t open.

But it does and within a second he’s on his feet, scrambling to get out before it changes its mind.

He remembers your door number, basically charging down the hall to get to it.

The door is white and the paint is starting to chip off it. The handle itself is dented in a few places and he wonders if it was your fault or someone else's.

His knocks are rapid, agitated even. He doesn’t stop until he hears your loud shouts telling him to cut it out.

“What the hell were you doing, trying to break down my door?” It swings open, revealing you in your pajamas. “Haven’t you done that already? And where were you, I’ve been waiting for like, ten minutes.”

He honestly feels bad for showing up uninvited and highly flustered. He can’t imagine it’s a pretty sight either. "This bad luck shit- fix it. My whole day’s been fucked up.”

“What are you-” Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, taking in his appearance.

It takes you a second to realise what he’s talking about but when you do, your face settles.

“How was your date?” You lean against the door frame, arms crossed over your chest.

“Really,” He glowered at you, “that’s what you care about?”

“Yes.” You nod. “Did you have fun?”

He hesitates. “I guess?”

“Was she nice?”

“Yeah.” Where was this going.

“Good, I’m happy for you.” The smile on your face is genuine. “Look at you go, Casanova.”

“We agreed to be just friends, but that’s not the point here. Y/N,” he whines. “I have a mission next week, I can’t afford to fuck up. My whole day was off and I don’t want it to carry over.”

“Your whole day?” you questioned, standing up instead of leaning against the wall. “Buck-”

“Just fix it.”

“Okay.” You lift your hand up, extending it towards his face.

He waits for you to do something.

You flick him on the forehead.

“There,” you declare, going back to your previous position. “you’re cured.”

What.

He says exactly what he’s thinking.

You laugh. “Dude. I was fucking with you.”

Huh?

“Well, actually maybe just like, three things and then I got bored.”

He’s confused.

“You know,” you begin when he doesn’t reply, “taking the sugar packets, switching your coffee order when you were looking under the table, took your place when you left, the shoelaces.”

“The shoelaces?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “That’s the other ray gun you saw this morning. Unties your shoelaces. I stopped after that because I thought you figured it out.”

His face scrunches in puzzlement.

“I mean, you looked right at me and told me to cut it out.”

He racks his brain about what you could possibly be talking about before it hits him. The hungover person on the goddamn bench in the park.

“You were the one in the hoodie and sunglasses.”

“I just followed the Avengers’ code of disguise.” You shrug. “Turns out it kinda works. Also teleportation. So helpful.”

He forgot about the teleportation. That's why you could do all of it so fast without him noticing you were even there.

“What about the fucking geese?”

You pause for a second. “The geese?”

“And the elevator.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” The confusion on your face is apparent. “What geese and elevator? I have no idea what you’re saying right now.”

“Everything’s been a mess today,” he grumbles. “I don’t know what’s real or not.���

“I swear I had nothing to do with it other than what I mentioned.” There’s indignation on your features that quickly gives way to delight. “Holy shit, did I just accidentally invent portable bad luck?”

“Okay-” his palm finds its way to his forehead in exasperation, “-then what the hell was the smell?”

“What smell- oh, the one from the box?”

He nods briskly.

“Secretions Magnifique.” You snorted. “It’s a perfume. The worst rated one I could find.”

“Perfume?”

“With notes of milk, seaweed and sandalwood.”

“It wasn’t an inator?”

“No, it wasn- did you get vibe checked by a goose at the park?” You stifle a laugh when you notice a stray feather on his thigh.

“What does that even mean?” he asks in despair.

“I can see why it attacked you. You got bad juju.” You raise an eyebrow. “Maybe if you stop staring so much-”

“So I just have shit luck.” Is that a fucking relief or even worse?

“Well,” you begin but decide not to continue.

Even with all the irritability masking it, you could see that he genuinely was just not having a good time.

“Wait here a second.”

You leave him at the door. He shifts his balance and sighs, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He still had to walk back to the Tower. Maybe he could grab a slice of pizza along the way since he skipped lunch.

“Okay, here.” You return with a large glass of water. He only looks at it. “It’s just water, I promise. You look like you ran a marathon."

He takes it from you sceptically, pushing away the urge to sniff at it. It’s gone within a few gulps.

You wait until he’s finished to point at his arm. He draws his eyebrows together, but you only curl your index finger and beckon for him to give you his hand.

He reluctantly extends it towards you.

“Don’t laugh,” you warn him, taking his metal arm. “This usually helps me.”

You tie a small bracelet around his wrist. It has a few beads, which he realises represent the colours of the solar system.

“Keep that for good luck.” You pat it gently after securing it. “I think you just had a bad day; those don’t last very long. Do you want to charge your phone before you leave?”

“Uh-” The bracelet’s pretty, the colours shine against the dark vibranium. “-no, I’m good. I’ll just leave.”

“Okay. Anything else I can help you with or will you be fine?”

He narrows his eyes. “You’re being suspiciously nice.”

“I’m not evil all the time.” You huff. “My hours are in the morning.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” he says again. “I’m gonna go then.”

“See you next week.” You give him a little wave. “I’d say break a leg on your mission but knowing your situation...”

He scoffs. “Thanks.”

You make a move to close the door when starts walking down the hallway towards the exit.

He adjusts the beads slightly so he can see them better. The Earth one has glitter in it. He thinks it’s cute.

“Bucky.”

He turns around.

There’s a hint of a smile on your face.

“Take the stairs.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Next part