#maybe this is stupid maybe i'm stupid i'm sorry

[boopsiesdaisies]

being near each other

bob reynolds/sentry x reader | 2,130 words | angst&fluff | gn!reader

THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS

tw: panic attacks, swearing

bob and you are both so bad at feelings, but maybe you'll find a way to make it work?

a/n: i'm down bad crying at the gym, why does he look like a kitten in a storm drain, but ripped as shit??

____

Living with the New Avengers was the most difficult task that you had encountered in your life. Sure, you had defeated your fair share of villains, but living with roommates was arguably the worst experience of your life. Not just any roommates, these roommates specifically. All of you had tried to establish a chore chart, but after Walker’s week of hell, it was a collective decision to abandon that. You had no idea how that man had survived life to this point, since he somehow made chloroform to clean the communal kitchen and knocked out every member of the team, you had decided that he was never to be allowed near bleach or rubbing alcohol again. If cleaning the base didn’t stress you out enough, the bass on Alexei’s speakers that played nearly 24/7, or the constant lack of personal space from working and living together was going to drive you mad. But cleaning, noise, or personal space weren’t the issues that worried you the most. The worst issue was Bob. 

You had hoped that after living with the team that you would be able to shove any emotional feelings for Bob deep, deep down. It hadn’t worked. Instead, you spent everyday attempting to hide any upturn of your lips and softness for the man as the feeling in your chest continued to grow. It only grew worse with every single interaction. From sitting next to him in meetings to watching him quietly hum to himself while he washed the dishes. Alright, so maybe you watched him a lot, but that wasn’t your fault! It had to have been Bob’s fault with his dumb stupid hair, and dumb stupid smile, and dumb stupid laugh, and dumb stupid abs that you would  have never expected on him– 

Woah. You were getting ahead of yourself. The blush began to creep higher on your cheeks as you tried to will yourself to focus on the moment. 

“Okay, who's sitting out of the mission tonight?” Yelena’s voice pulled you back to the present. 

“None of you look at me, I’ve done it so many times it’s not even fair,” Alexei said.

“Who’s turn is it anyway?” Walker turned to look at the chart in the meeting room.

“No, no way, you didn’t like the chart so don’t go looking for it to save you now,” you laughed. 

“Actually,” Walker’s tone increased in pitch, elevating the level of cockiness to him. “It’s your turn.”

“My turn?” You clarified, fear beginning to pull at you.

You wanted nothing more than to get out tonight, the heat of your blush was beginning to go to your head, and the idea of sitting with Bob tonight was not going to cure it. 

“Yep, your turn,” Walker solidified and turned back to Yelena. “Do we want to wheels up at 0800?” 

“Oh my God we get it you were in the military John, get a hobby,” Ava spat as she began to stand.

As she stood, it cued everyone else to stand, as you were left reeling. Panic began to set in as you realized you couldn’t be left alone with Bob today, your heart might explode in an ungraceful love confession at this rate. 

“Wait, wait, wait, I can’t stay behind this time guys.” You said as you tried to stop everyone from leaving the table.

“It’s your turn,” Walker said.

“Okay, so it’s my turn because the chart said so, but if the chart said it was your turn you would fight it, how is that fair?” You pushed.

“Because it is convenient for him now, it’s no big deal, we each take turns staying home with Bob,” Yelena pushed back, as everyone left the room, except for you.

“Guys, c’mon,” you groaned and turned your back to face the wall, only to see the face of Bob staring back at you. There was a softness in his eyes despite the childish display you just put on.

He cleared his throat and looked down, “sorry you got stuck with me.”

“I didn’t get stuck with you, I just didn’t–” you started, quick to stop yourself. Shit, this was going to go poorly. 

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. Well not used to my powers, which is why you’re stuck here, but I mean, used to being left behind.” The small smile that graced his lips made everything worse.

“You’re not left behind, it’s just not safe for you until you know what you’re doing, which is why we probably shouldn’t let Walker anywhere out of the house.” You laughed softly to yourself. “I just wanted to go today, that's all.” 

You were lying through the skin of your teeth and you were hoping that the seemingly every permanent blush on your face wasn’t going to give you away. 

“So, since we have a few hours to ourselves, do you want to make dinner or something?”

“Sure!” Bob bounced up, seemingly recovered from your persistence to leave earlier and bounded over to the kitchen.

If you were never letting Walker in the kitchen again, you weren’t going to let Bob near it again with a ten foot pole. You had never encountered someone who truly could not find anything or do anything in the kitchen. At every step, you guided his lost eyes to where he needed them and while the love of him was rising in your chest, you could feel the energy beginning to shift around him. 

“Hey, it’s no big deal, why don’t you just taste test for me and you can help me clean up after we’re done?” You asked.

“I just want to be useful,” Bob said. 

The tremble of Bob’s lower lip made you reach for him, the worst idea you had in a while. Your fingers lightly brushed against his hairline as tucked the ever persistent piece behind his ear.

“I think you’re useful, just maybe not at cooking,” you replied.

Bob’s hand covered your wrist and suddenly everything went dark as you relived the very worst moments of your life. 

___

When you finally came to, the smell of burning food overpowered your sense as you gasped for breath over and over. The tears that pricked the edge of your eyes overflowed as you pushed yourself to sit up. The panic in your body began to rescind but the pain from falling to the floor seemed to dull any other sensation or cohesive thought. As you tried to reorganize your thoughts, and catch your breath, the only thought that came to your mind was Bob. He was here when you fell and now he’s gone. The panic refilled your lungs again, although it wasn’t about you anymore, it was entirely for Bob. Every fiber of muscle pushed you forward as you searched for his figure around the kitchen. Seemingly absent from the kitchen, you pulled the food of the burner worrying about turning the stove off later, as your feet began to run to the hallway of shared rooms. Your voice carried his name over and over as you prayed that you were going to be able to find him before the Void took over. You cursed yourself, feeling entirely at fault since it was your inability to come to terms with care for another person that put him in this mess. As you approached the hallway, the level of destruction increased. Overturned furniture, picture frames torn off the wall, and blocking the path, crowded you as you pushed through the mess to find him. 

You heard him before you saw him. Loud sobs coming from behind the door to his room, only halfway on its hinges. Slowing, you peek through the door to see him. Balled against the furthest corner of his room, with hands pressed over his ears, gasping for air just as you were only moments ago. You were so focused on him you couldn’t tell if your breathing was still ragged. 

“Bob?” You asked softly, praying the human part of him was still winning the fight.

He didn’t respond to you as you pushed through his room. The broken wood and glass fragments crunched under your shoes as you stepped closer to him. The darkness pulled away any of the light near him or of the setting sun in the window, covering the edges of his arms. You crouched down, and sat next to him.

“I’m going to touch you okay?” You asked as you reached to rub his back.

“No!” He pulled away, “you can’t, it’ll happen again.”

“I don’t think it will, it’s okay, I’m just going to rub your back.” You lightly placed your hand on his back, and began to rub small circles on his upper back.

Bob began to speak again, but stuttered over his words as the sob racked through his body.

“Hey, it’s fine, take a deep breath, I can’t help you if I don’t know what's wrong.” You leaned closer to him as looked up to you.

Bob’s eyes scanned the room, he seemed so afraid. “What does it matter, you don’t care.”

“Of course, I care,” your hand fell off his back. “I care about you a lot.”

“You wanted to leave,” he said, quoting the moment from earlier and part of your heart ached.

“I did,” you agreed. 

There was no point in denying the moment, but you weren’t quite sure how to vocalize why that would make sense.

“I don’t–” you began only for Bob to interrupt you.

“I don’t even know what I was thinking, rigging that stupid chart like they all suggested to get you to talk to me, why would you even want to talk to me?” He fully turned away from you in that moment.

The irony of the moment made you laugh. 

“See now you’re laughing at me and –” He started.

“No, I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at how bad we are at…this.” You gestured to the invisible this, and noticed Bob’s breathing, while still quick, seemed to had slowed down enough for conversation. In a moment of bravery, you pulled Bob’s face back to look at you.

From this distance you could see the details in his eyes. The brightness that pulled into them as his powers grew in intensity was overwhelming. The eye contact was going to kill you as if you didn’t already want to crawl into a hole and die. Your communication skills were going to shit the longer you looked at him. The constant blush that accompanied your face when you were near him seemed to worsen, as you hoped the tightness in your chest was from the fear of sharing your feelings over another run in the Void. 

“I wanted to leave because I’m afraid of talking to you,” you started. 

The hurt that flashed across his face in that moment seemed to make everything worse for a moment. “Shit, not like that, not in the ‘I think you’re scary’ or ‘I don’t like you’ kinda way, but in the ‘I like you a lot and I’m afraid of real feelings’ kinda way.”

Still getting no response from Bob you kept going, “I had hoped that if I kept avoiding talking about it that it would get better. But everything you do makes me feel whole and like there's this warmth in my chest whenever I’m near you, and I’m blushing like I’m some high schooler, and it’s weird and I don’t hate it but I don’t know how to deal with it.” 

“What?” The starkness of the question pulled you out of your tangent.

“I like being around you,” you said softly. “I really do.”

“You’re not mad at me?” The tears began to well in his eyes again.

“No, why would I be mad at you?” You asked.

“Because of the kitchen?” He looked down at his shoes, apparently finding something interesting in the chaos of the room.

“Did you do it on purpose?” You asked.

“No!” Bob started, before you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Then I would never be mad at you.” You did your best to sound reassuring.

After a few moments of silence, Bob spoke. “I don’t know how to talk to you either, but I like being around you.”

“Okay, so we’ll work with that.” You smiled. “We’ll just start with being near each other.”

Bob’s eyes met your eyes again. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you replied as you brushed the piece of hair out of his face again. This time, his eyes were back, the blue looking almost gray in the low lighting of the room.

“What the fuck did you two do?” Yelena’s voice pulled the two of you out of the moment. 

You really hated your roommates at that minute.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@waynes-multiverse

Hi Wayne!! I was so excited to see your wonderful feedback 💚 I'm also very sorry this took me so long because April was long and May is already starting to spiral 😅

Aww, he’s already saving her. Why do I think that means something? 😂

Maybe.... 😉

Of course he did. Ben really always knows how to talk to the ladies 🙈

I know. He's soooooo charming isn't he? Doesn't he know just what to say to make a woman swoooonnn? 😒

Ooooh I’m sensing he doesn’t want her to walk home alone either. Someone already seems to have caught a little bit of feelings 😏

Pssshhhh... Girl, What? That's crazzzyyyy? Why would SB ever have feelings?

And I love that we have the same HC, Lee! I totally believe too that SB would just obnoxiously stare at a girl he likes – to the point it gets a little weird – and then cover it up with whatever stupid line comes to his mind lmao

Aww yay! I love that too! I honestly believe that the staring would be so uncomfortable- but he's just a baby (not for realsies but a baby when it comes to feelings LOL 🤣) and he doesn't know how to say what he's feeling! Well, doesn't know how to say what he's feeling in a healthy way 😭

Yep 💯 I’m already scared what Kripke will do to him in S5. At one point, is fanfic writers will have a hard time to redeem him 😅

Oh my word- ME TOO! I'm so scared that he's really gonna take him to the unredeemable place... I also feel like SB is gonna do something really bad in Vought Rising too and I'm frightened 😅 BUT that is what's fanfiction is for LOL

Ooooh? 👀 I’m guessing this is the finale at Vought Tower. I’m curious to see how you changed that ending. I always found that super hard due to Ryan (unless we pretend that kid was never there, which I’m fine with lol)

You're right! It is the finale at Vought Tower! 🤗 I don't go into too too much detail on that, but pieces of it are sprinkled through the fic 🥰 AND yes! For me it's kinda hard to write around the finale, because it's pretty set in stone. And I always give Ben the same job after in all my fics 😅 But it's funny because I just realized that I never mention Ryan in this fic at all 🤣 Whoops? Guess I forgot the brat LOL! But yes, let's just pretend he wasn't there 🤣

Oh, burn 😂

I was so proud of that zinger let me tell you 🤣

And I absolutely love her powers btw!!! 😍🌿🪴 Can I tell you a secret? My favorite superhero powers have always been either time or plant powers 😂💚

YES! Plant powers and earthbending powers are my favorite (time travel is super cool too)! I thought it was such a travesty that we haven't seen a plant supe in the Boys yet. I've got my fingers crossed for S5- if they do it justice 🤞🏻

Awwww, I hope she gets it 🥹 I honestly wanna give her a big hug. She sounds a little lonely (but maybe that won’t stay this way for long 😏)

She does deserve that though! I too wanted to give her a big hug when I was writing this. But I'm also happy you highlighted this little snippet, because that's a theme through this entire series. It comes up quite a lot 😅

And that high school boyfriend sounded like a real winner 🙄 (But good for her for locking that douche in a tree lol!!!)

Oh he was terrible 😒

Ah yes! Every woman’s worst nightmare 🙈 I’d be scared shitless for her, but knowing she has superpowers helps immensely with the anxiety. And I have a weird feeling SB will pop up, too, because he still didn’t want her walking home alone because he *cares* 😏💚 (That’s probably a curse word for him lol) And seriously, her powers are so freaking cool!!! 😍💚🪴🌿

Yep. The dreaded walk home 🫣 Oh yeah, definitely, the powers make it a little bit better, but still writing it I was anxiety city. I'm dead at "*cares* 😏💚 (That’s probably a curse word for him lol)" 🤣🤣 It's SO true- the one curse word he won't say.

Knew it!!!! Oh, Ben aren’t you just a fucking softie inside… Why you gotta be like this? 😂🙈💚

He's a big ol' softie- with a black heart of gold LOL. And I just had to drop in the touch her and die trope... because I can't be stopped. It's compulsion at this time point.

Also I love modern family, so watching Gloria beat up Jay like that on the gif was wonderful 💗

Oh, of course! Why am I not surprised, huh, Ben? 😏

He might have been taking a bigger interest in her well-being than he wanted to admit lol.

I’m sorry – you were gonna say? Before what, hmm? Oh, he’s already a complete goner, isn’t he? 😅💕 And of course he gave her an excuse and won’t admit to shit. A stroll? That’s what he’s going with. Who will buy that, Ben? You don’t look like the typical 2am stroller in the rain 😝 And it’s obvious he likes and that she’s at least attracted to his face when his mouth stays closed, but I’m honestly so fucking excited and curious to see how he will pull this off and win her over 👀 And I love his fucking argument of his attempt on her life being already a month ago 🤣🤣 Like bro, it ain’t the magic sentence you think it is lmao

Mhmm, man is already smitten.

Oh definitely... Ben always strolls in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. Doesn't everybody? No? LOL.

She is "attracted to his face when his mouth stays closed" 🤣☠️! I'm excited that you're excited to see how he wins her over! It is a wild ride, I'll say that much without saying too many spoilers lol.

And you're right, Ben is really out here like- it was a month ago, get over it! HE TRIED TO KILL HER! 🤣

Ugh, I hate when he’s a little right 🙄

He is. The one thing about the current century he understands 🤣

Whyyyyy, Benjamin?? Why are you like this? 😩

The toxic masculinity really coming in clutch at this point lol

Because dicks are hard 😏 I see myself out…

Actual footage of when I read this 👆🏻 GIRL STAWPPP, I'M DEAD 🤣🤣

Pffff, this is honestly so cute 😆💕 Yes, you use that excuse, gramps lol

I mean... imagine how awkward that is. THE POWER flickers! And Ben has supe hearing! I mean he's a little bit of a pervert, but I don't think he enjoys hearing that LOL.

Oh, Mike, you poor soul… 😂 And the fact that Butcher mocks him and he’s just oblivious to it all. Seriously poor guy lmao And of course, he was immediate cannon fodder for SB 🙈😆 But it says a lot when even Hughie had a hard time being nice to him lol But honestly, as much as she hated it, SB peacocking as her boyfriend probably gave Mike the rest. I was laughing so hard during that entire exchange 😂

The poor Mike trope is gonna trend this whole fic. Just wait til you meet Jake 🤣 And I know! Mike is one of those people who is just too precious for this world and he doesn't understand social cues like that 😭

Yep. The IMMEDIATE targeting system Ben has when he sees men who might be a little awkward and not so good around the ladies 🤣 I'm still cackling at "cannon fodder"- I love that usage here. BUT yeah, if Hughie is having a hard time then it must be almost impossible.

And yay! I'm glad you liked the exchange (peacocking LOL). It was my favorite part of this chapter- just the awkwardness and Ben being teasing and just (sexy) annoying.

Oh God 🫠🫠🫠 What I’d give to make out with this asshole 😩 (Probably had to give up feminism lol)

Ah yes, the day feminism took a vacation. I think I've seen that special, just like the "The Year Without A Santa Claus." 🤣 But oh yeah, my feminism would have to just shut it's eyes and put noise canceling headphones on.

Dead. I’m wheezing over here, Lee!!! 🤣🤣

Okay, hear me out. I love Mike's mother. She is literally my favorite side character in this entire fic. And she's just so wild, so unhinged (she's all of us). The more you see her in this fic, the funnier it is.

I’m sorry, my boy… but when exactly did we let you move in? God, he’s so fucking obnoxious sometimes 😂 So that’s his plan winning her over? Forced proximity? Why am I not surprised this is the best he could come up with. He probably thinks the Stockholm syndrome will help with his flirting lmao

Not the Stockholm syndrome 🤣🤣🤣 He really is obnoxious and the reader is just an inch away from throwing him off the roof!

I absolutely love that her apartment is full of plants!!! Total boho vibes 😍🌿 But hey, how neat! If they ever get together, she can grow weed for him 😆

Yes! Her apartment is the dream. I love plants so much- I have them all over my house so it was just so wonderful to write a reader like that 💚 And it's funny that you mention weed...

Gaaaah, I’m so hooked! I love their dynamic and can’t wait to see if she gives him a chance, and what he’ll do or how he’ll change to deserve it!!! Such a fantastic start to this series! 💚💚💚 And sorry for not getting here sooner or checking in with you more this month, friend! April was a little rough and I’m still majorly catching up with everything, but I’m so glad I finally get to read this wonderful series 🥰

Yay!! I'm so happy you like this one! It is again, another fic that was supposed to just be one chapter, but I fell in love with the reader and Ben and got turned into a series 😅

And oh no! Please don't apologize! I'm so sorry that I've been awol and haven't been able to read Time After Time! I loved the first chapter so much and I've just been running around like a chicken with it's head cut off for April and it's starting up again for May 😭 But it was so wonderful to read you comments friend! I hope that May is better for you than April 💗

Chapter 1: Are You Always Like This?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  When you decided to work with Butcher and his merry band of supe hunters to take down Homelander, you never expected to be saddled with a sullen, grumpy, jerk like Soldier Boy when the job was done. The more you’re around him the more you hate him, but you can’t help but wonder, is he really as big a jerk as you think? Reader is a supe with plant powers. This takes place in an AU about a month after the end of The Boys Season 3, in which Butcher has let Soldier Boy continue to work with him on his team. (I'm real bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers (Implied/Eventual), Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Fake Dating

Word Count: 7.4 K (OOPS)

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+/Mature because Soldier Boy (he's a warning and everyone knows it), swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, sexual tension, violence. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

A/N: I know I know, I should be working on "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love," but this idea was swirling around in my head and I had to write it.

Spotify Playlist 🪴

Masterlist

Take A Chance On Me Masterlist

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

"Alright Butcher, I'm done." You sigh closing the file in front of you and standing from the worn wooden table covered in empty Chinese food containers and stacks of papers almost as tall as you. "If I read another word about trying to stop an electrical current, I'm going to commit toaster bath and I'm taking you with me."

It was late, past two in the morning, but Butcher had a lead on a B-list supe that had been using his electrical powers to steal cars and run a chop shop business downtown. You had been close to catching him yesterday, so close in fact that your eyebrows were still a little crispy from when he shot a bolt of lightning at your face that you only dodged in the nick of time when Soldier Boy grabbed the back of your shirt and yanked you out of the way. Unfortunately, your shirt hadn't survived, it had ripped and you spent the rest of the day wearing one of Butcher's oversize Hawaiian shirts all the while Soldier Boy told you that it was a waste to keep a pretty little figure like yours covered up.

I hate him so much.

When Butcher had initially asked you to join his team a month ago you were excited, but then you found out that you were going to be stuck with Soldier Boy. The supe, that despite Annie's arguments should be given back to the government and put on ice, was allowed to join Butcher's team after he took down Homelander. Who was currently frozen on ice, somewhere. As long as Homelander was far from you, you didn't care. The guy gave you the creeps.

But the team still couldn't figure out where the electricity manipulating supe was hiding or where he was dropping the cars, which meant you had spent the past twelve hours staring at files and a computer screen so hard that you felt like your brain going to melt out of your ears.

"Do whatever ya want kid. I'm not ya damn babysitter." Butcher grunts, his face hidden behind his own file. His boots were on the table and he was leaning back in his chair so far that you were tempted to tip him over, all it would take was a good solid kick.

You smile at him. Butcher was adept at pretending that he didn't want you around, of course you knew how antsy he got when you weren't there to offer your opinion. You figured that he just liked pushing people away and given his history you understood that.

Annie sits up from where she and Hughie are cuddling on the couch. "Why don't you stay?" Her brow furrows with worry. Annie was big on the whole, "women not walking at home alone at night thing," which normally you didn't, but you figured that whatever was waiting outside the apartment was probably less intimidating than Homelander. And you could handle it.

"Because I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight and not that godforsaken rickety cot in the corner that Frenchie got. Can't stand that one spring that always seems so happy to see me." You pull your leather jacket off of the back of the chair and whirl it around your shoulders, before bringing your hair out from under the collar.

Hughie snorts.

"Hey, that cot is an antique!" Frenchie crows from his highbacked chair spewing a mouthful of smoke into the air. Kimiko was sitting at the coffee table in front of him working on her writing, a thick black marker clutched in her hand. MM was taking the night off, but you thought he was probably trying to avoid Soldier Boy.

"Yeah well, that cot is about as old as grandpa over there." You gesture to where Soldier Boy is sitting in another one of the armchairs in the corner watching you while puffing on a joint.

He was always watching you and due to your inability to read his mind it made it difficult for you to gauge what he was thinking, but you assumed that it was the usual macho crap he spouted 100% of the time. But he wasn't checking you out, well this time he wasn't. You had caught him staring at your butt more than once, and he'd made several comments about exactly what he'd like to do to you, but right now an emotion glimmered behind his eyes that you couldn't place.

Soldier Boy stands from the chair. He was wearing a dark t-shirt that stretched over his chest and a pair of blue jeans that fit him just right, well, if you were looking at that. You were, but it was easier to pretend that you weren't. It was easier to pretend that he wasn't the most attractive man you'd ever seen in your life.

Damn it, why does someone so attractive have to be such a dick?

 "A lady like you shouldn't be walking home alone this late." He frowns at you.

"Like me?" You arch an eyebrow.

"Good thing she ain't a lady." Butcher chuckles at his joke

You punch him hard on the arm, not enough to break it, but enough to make it hurt.

“Bloody hell woman.” Butcher rubs his sore bicep shooting you an angry look.

Not many people could look intimidating while wearing a Hawaiian shirt, but Butcher pulled it off. Not many people looked good in a Hawaiian shirt either, but Butcher pulled that off too.

"I'm serious." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow.

"Oh now you're so chivalrous?" You cock your hip to the side, planting your hands on your hips. "Didn't you try to kill me last month?"

"To be fair, you were trying to kill me-"

"Because you were trying to kill Annie. Where was the chivalry when you tried to tear me apart with your bare hands?"

"There are plenty of other things I'd like to do to you with my bare hands sweetheart." His grin turns wolfish. "I'd be happy to show you sometime, perhaps you'd like some company?"

"I'd rather spend an hour with that ancient spring than roll around with you." You tap your lip thoughtfully. “Then again I’m sure that cot is the same age as you and it can at least get it up.”

Annie muffles a snort behind her hand.

“Last time I checked everything was working, perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?” Soldier Boy smirks.

 "Can't you keep in your pants for once?" Butcher sighs, tilting the file downward to glare at Soldier Boy.

You can't help but smile at Butcher's response. Butcher might have tried to push you away, but even you could see his protective instincts. That became wildly apparent whenever you went out on a mission alone and although you would think that it was annoying for someone to think they needed to protect you, in Butcher's case you made an exception.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes. "She shouldn't walk home alone."

You wave your hand over the wilting fern on the kitchen counter, eyes shifting to green for a moment as it perks up. It was the only plant in the house and although six people lived in this apartment, not one ever remembered to water it. "And you shouldn't butt into my business."

Soldier Boy opens his mouth to speak, but Annie interrupts his train of thought.

"Wait y/n. Coffee tomorrow?" Annie asks ignoring them. She's sitting up from the couch, her body turned towards you with both of her hands on the back cushions. 

She was one of your best friends, well, really one of your only friends. You'd grown up together and when Annie moved to New York you had decided to move and take some college classes in the city while you worked at a small garden shop after class part time.

The owner still couldn't figure out why nothing you cared for seemed to die.

You usually kept your status as a supe on the down low, and only used your powers when you really had to, which wasn't often before you joined Butcher's team. You'd only lasted two semesters before Annie came to ask you for help finding Soldier Boy and after that, Butcher asked you to join his team for shit pay. You accepted but you still worked at the garden shop part-time, also for terrible pay, but you loved it there.

Your powers made it easy to make sure nothing died and sometimes it felt like home being surrounded by plants. Caring for them was the one thing you seemed to be good at, and sometimes they felt like family.

You didn't have much family left, beside your grandmother and your older brother who still lived back in Des Moines, and sometimes it was lonely in the city. Annie was the only person who you'd been able to connect with since you moved, and now that you weren't going to classes the friends you made in college didn't really understand what you were doing with your life.

And telling them "oh I hunt down supes for a living and sometimes kill them" didn't really sound like something you could say in passing. It also did wonders for your dating life… NOT.

"Sorry babe, I'm at the shop tomorrow. But I'm off at 3 if you want to get coffee after?" You hold open the front door of the apartment, looking back at her expectantly.

You hated blowing Annie off, especially since the two of you hadn't been able to hang out outside of missions mostly because she was spending all her time with Hughie.

"Sounds great!" She beams.

And with that you disappear out down the hallway and into the night.

It's raining as you walk down the desolate streets. Cars splash water over the gum covered sidewalks that soaks through your tennis shoes and makes every step against the ground squish. But you ignore it.

You usually loved when it rained, loved to feel the cooling water pool against your skin, loved to hear the soft patter of it against the windows of your apartment, loved the earthy smell that came with the drops, but not tonight. You were still thinking about Soldier Boy.

You don't know why you let him get under your skin so much. You'd met men like him in the past and it was usually easy for you to brush them off, but not him.

I mean yes he is gorgeous, and maybe kind of charming when he's not trying to get into my pants, but I don't want just a one night fling. I want what Annie and Hughie have.

You think about your best friend and her loving boyfriend. You tried not to be jealous, but it was hard when the last time you had a lasting relationship was your first boyfriend back in high school who, when he found out you were a supe, was only interested if you had the power to shape shift into someone 'a little more busty.' The relationship ended with you locking him in a tree and the fire department having to come cut him out. He was fine, maybe a little more green than a normal person, but...

You'd heard that he got a job from the Green Giant Vegetable Company doing cameos as the Jolly Green Giant. So if anything, you helped him have a career?

Annie and Hughie were both head over heels in love with each other, knew everything about each other, didn't have any secrets, and it wasn't just sex, it was a close relationship with someone else who understood every part of you. You wanted that; and as much as you had avoided relationships in the past due to your supe status, you still hoped to find a supe that was kind and didn't think that they were a god for what they could do.

Why do so many have a god complex?

You think again about Soldier Boy. That wasn't the first time he had tried to coax you into bed and it wouldn't be the last, that was for sure. At first you had hoped that he would give up, it had been a month since you'd met, but he was still going strong, despite having a different woman in that apartment almost every night.

Maybe he's just really horny after being trapped in a lab all these years. Then again- You remember all the articles you read about him from the 80s, the ones that recorded his numerous escapades and think about his founding of Herogasm.

Maybe he's always like that, but he never comes on to Annie or Kimiko, only me. And I've threatened castration multiple times. You'd think he would care more about that than anything else.

You consider with a frown, clutching your jacket tighter around you. Rain trickled down from your hair and under the collar of your jacket to soak into your t-shirt. Your once light blue jeans were soaked to a dark navy with the amount of water that splashed up from the road and dripped down your back. For the first time in forever, you wished that it wasn't raining.

Probably should have just gotten a cab, but it's so expensive and-

"Hey baby." Someone calls from behind you.

Can't I just walk home without being hit on? One time?

"Not interested." You shout back, continuing to squish down the cracked sidewalks.

Three shadows peel off the wall of shops to your left blocking your path forward. Each is wearing a dark colored hoodie hiding their faces from view.

Is my luck really this bad? I never hear about Annie getting mugged or Hughie. And Hughie definitely looks wimpier than me.

"Don't be like that baby." The man behind you says.

You half turn your body so you can see all your supposed attackers at once. There are actually two men behind you, both wearing similar hoodies to the three now standing on your right.

Oh look they color coordinated their outfits… cute.

The man opens his mouth again.

"I'm gonna stop you right there." You hold up a finger. "I've been dealing with a horny 104 year old  geriatric man all day long. Please don't push me right now." It was an attempt to warn them, but you knew they probably wouldn’t listen to you.

No one ever does.

"Sounds like you need someone to relax with." The man smirks steeping forward to grab your arm. "I'd be happy to ease some of that tension baby."

"Look. I'm going to give you a chance to walk away. To avoid making one of the biggest mistakes of your life. Because honestly you all have the worst luck in the world." You jerk your arm away from him.

"I like em feisty.” He purrs stepping forward again while the others laugh. “Come on baby-“

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You grab him around the throat, lifting him in the air like he weighs nothing, your eyes beginning to glow a brilliant green.

“I did try to warn you.”

"She's a supe!" He shouts struggling against your grip.

You throw him backwards into the other man standing to your right before facing the men on your left. Each one has pulled out a knife preparing to rush towards you.

"I get it. Y’all are out late, you bought matching outfits, but do we really have to-“

The first one rushes you, waving his knife through the air in a frantic dance. He doesn't get the chance to make contact with your arm. Vines erupt out of the pavement, breaking through the cracks in the concrete, binding themselves around the man who lets out a savage cry, quickly silenced while the vines continue to wrap around his body until there's nothing left but a mass of struggling green foliage on the pavement and some muffled screams.

He's lucky, could have had him dragged back under ground.

His friends stand there for a moment, eyeing one another as if they're not sure what just happened. You can practically see them trying to decide if you're still worth the trouble.

“Anyone else?”

The battle that follows is swift, the sound of cracking bones and the soft thud of punches landing echo over the soft patter of rain in the night as you dodge their blows and land your own against them. The vines continue to spread outward snatching up the men who fall to the ground in front of you, dragging each one up the street light above that sends yellowed light over the desolate streets. By now each bound body hangs from above like a sack of meat in a meat cooler, moving with the struggling men inside while the muffled cries shatter the still silence of the night.

Sometimes it's really too easy.

And as you begin to turn back someone grabs you by the hair, yanking you into their sweaty embrace. The leader's hot breath sticks to your cheeks, the cool metal of his switchblade pressing down so hard on your throat that you feel the pinprick of blood begin to form under the tip.

“What are you gonna do now bitch?” He snarls in your ear.

"Give you one more chance to surrender." You spit.

Like I'm going to give him the satisfaction of me begging for my life.

"I'm gonna enjoy this-" The man begins to say, pressing the knife deeper into your throat, but the rest of his sentence is cut off with a strangled cry as he's pulled away from you.

 What the hell just-

You turn around, freezing in shock.

Soldier Boy is crouching there in his t-shirt, jacket, and jeans over the man who just had a knife to your throat. His fist rising and falling as he punches the man in the face.

"Don’t you ever touch her." Soldier Boy snarls. His fist is already covered in blood, the man’s face a mass of bloodied tissue and bone.

"Stop you're going to kill him-" You run forward to stop Soldier Boy, but he doesn't stop even when you try to grab on to his hand.

"I said STOP." You shout louder, this time manipulating a vine to wrap around Soldier Boy's arm and restrain it.

Fuck he might already be dead.

"Let me go." Soldier Boy's eyes narrow. The usual green was replaced by a darkened pit with his rage. You'd only ever seen him this mad a handful of times, one of which was when the supe tried to zap you like a fly in one of those insect traps two days ago.

Why is he angry?

"I'm not going to let you go, until you promise not to kill him."

"I should." He snarls back at you.

"What are you talking about?"

He stands from the body, eyeing the last attacker who runs full speed down the sidewalk and vanishes into the darkness.   "I should kill him for trying to hurt you." Soldier Boy says simply.

You wave your hand allowing the vine to let go of his arm. "Where do you come off so high and mighty? You literally tried to kill me last month."

"That was before I-" He shakes his head angrily, eyes still blazing.

"Look I don't need you to protect me. Given what I've had to deal with all day I was looking forward to kicking some ass."

"You did." He smirks nodding his head in the direction of the men hanging from the streetlamp above you. “I just thought that you were outnumbered.”

"Why are you here?" You sigh pinching the bridge of your nose.

"I wanted to go for a stroll." Soldier Boy shrugs. He flexes his hand, before wiping the blood on the front of the sweatshirt of the man on the ground.

"Uh-huh. Well I don't need you to protect me." You say again, crossing your arms over your chest. "I had this handled."

"You sure doll?"

"Look I get it- you think that you're some knight in shining armor because you have this macho complex. But I'm fine on my own." You begin to step around the bodies of the men on the ground moving in the direction of your apartment, but Soldier Boy follows you.

"Where do you think you're going?" You turn to look at where he falls into step beside you.

"You shouldn't be walking home alone."

"Well you're sure as hell not going home with me."

His lip turns up in a smirk, towering over you. Soldier Boy is easily a foot taller than you, so broad that it's impossible to look past his imposing figure. It would be attractive if he wasn't so damn annoying. "Come on sweetheart, I know you want me to go home with you." He purrs with a smile. "I think you'd really enjoy it if I did. And I'll even let you tie me up with those pretty vines of yours." Ben leans in towards your face and you take a step back.

"Hard pass. So what? Is this your big move? Acting all chivalrous just to get a woman into bed with you?"

"That depends, is it working?"

"No. Now go back to the apartment, before I send you there in pieces." You turn back to squish down the sidewalk at a faster pace, hoping he will get a hint and leave you alone. But you knew he wouldn’t stop. He practically thrived on teasing you, had been the bane of your existence since you met him. And nothing seemed to dissuade him.

"What is your problem with me?" He jogs to catch up. "And don't say that it's because I tried to kill you, that was last month-"

"I think that's applicable to this week and the week after that and the week after that." You count out with every finger to further emphasize your point, but you know that Soldier Boy won't give up that easy.

"Are you always this fucking angry?" He almost laughs.

"I don’t know. Are you always this fucking annoying?" You turn to face him narrowing your eyes.

Soldier Boy chuckles at your look, running a hand through his hair that has darkened in the spray of water, his green eyes watching you curiously. They were shinning now, not the blacked pits of hate they were when he was beating the guy two minutes ago. For a second, just for a second, you see how handsome he is all over again.

"Come on, give me a real answer and I'll leave you alone." He's smiling at you now, giving you one of those boyish grins that, if it were anyone else, would make your heart stop.

He just wants sex. He doesn't care about you. He won't ever care about you. Breathe.

"Fine." You sigh. "You might say you're a supe, but you're not a hero. People like you and Homelander, you don't care about anyone but yourself. You use your powers for you and on your own terms. You were going to kill that guy-" You gesture back towards where the body is still on the ground, the man's heart beat is dangerously low.

"He was threatening you. A thank you might be nice." Soldier Boy's cheeks flush as he glares down at you with darkened eyes, his anger surging back in his chest.

"Yes he was threatening me, but I'm okay and you could have just taken him to jail. You didn't have to beat his face in."

"So you're saying if he had been attacking someone else you wouldn't have done the same?"

"I would have subdued him and then waited for the police to get there. The men hanging from the streetlight aren't dead. We aren't the law-"

"Right so those guys can get off with a warning and then go on and do the same thing over and over again." He scoffs rolling his eyes at you.

"It doesn't give you the right to kill them."

"I suppose you don't believe in the death penalty either."

"I believe in the death penalty Gramps. I just don't believe it is our job to carry it out." Your temper was flaring against your skin distracting you from the chill of the rain as it soaked into your clothes.

"Do you have any idea how many women would love to be saved by me?" Soldier Boy asks. He shakes his head as if he can't understand you.

You didn't blame him, most people didn't, that was why you spent most of your time alone.

"I'm not one of them. So leave me alone." You turn to go.

Honestly, why is this the kind of guy I attract? You roll your eyes to yourself. Oh you mean, tall, dark, handsome, gorgeous- The other little voice in your head whispers in your ear. NO. You tell yourself. Please I just want one guy who's not a total dick. Why is that so hard?

"I still don't think it's a good answer." He huffs.

"Of course you don't." You roll your eyes and begin to walk again. The streetlamps above send an eerie yellow glow over the parked cars along the road and over the crackled pavement. If Soldier Boy wasn't here bothering you, you might have stopped to admire the water as it splashed underneath the suspension bridge beyond the crowded buildings, but you wanted to get home. Without him if possible.

You glance over at Soldier Boy again. He looks normal right now, always does when he's not wearing his suit. And when he shut up you could see why people were so in love with him. It was when he opened his mouth that it reminded you exactly why you didn't like him.

You stop in front of your apartment building and force yourself to smile. "Thank you for walking me home." You say through tight lips, hoping that the false sincerity will make him leave.

He gazes up at your building with a frown. "This is a pretty shitty apartment building."

"Thank you. Not all of us inherited millions of dollars from our parents."

He pauses for a moment continuing to look up at the building, before he sighs loudly. "Look, I-." He sighs again. "I can't take listening to Annie and Hughie fucking. They go at it every night and she always makes the power go off."

You knew that already. It was another reason why you didn't like staying at the apartment, because listening to your best friend get railed by her boyfriend was not your idea of a good time.

You look up at Ben, and for a second you see a glimmer of the truth, just a flash of something that wasn't like the misogynistic attitude he usually had and it made you pause. He almost looked, sad and it made you feel bad for him. Of course you felt bad for him before, when you found out his entire team just gave him away to be experimented on and when probably the woman that he'd come the closest to loving really didn't care about him at all.

It must be incredibly lonely to come back to a world where almost everyone you know is dead. Guilt builds in your chest at the thought. I had lost my fair share of people, but not everyone in my life and I certainly didn’t learn about it on the same day.

"You know I think that's the first honest thing you've ever said to me." You say quietly shifting from foot to foot.

He half-smiles. "Maybe."

You chew on the inside of your cheek considering. You weren't afraid of him. You knew that with your powers you could take him. You were stronger than most and harder to kill. And despite the bad things you thought about him and knew about him, you kinda thought he was relatively harmless, well, you didn't think he was a rapist.

"Fine. But you're staying on the couch. And if I wake up and you're anywhere near my bedroom, I'll castrate you." You warn as walk up to the front doors and type in the code to unlock them, with Soldier Boy following behind you.

When you make it to the third floor, you raise one hand to stop him from going any further. It falls against his muscular chest and you fail trying not to admire how it feels beneath your hand.

Why am I so thirsty?

"If you wanted to grab my chest doll, all you had to do was ask-" Soldier Boy begins to say, but you raise the hand to cover his mouth.

"Shh." You hiss. "We have to be quiet or Mike will come out-"

"Who?" He asks, muffled against your hand.

You hear a door down the hallway creak open, spilling yellowed light onto the dark blue carpet of the hallway. "Shit. Too late."

Mike steps out of his apartment with a wide smile as soon as he sees you. "HEY y/n!" He crows, waving his free hand enthusiastically. "I didn't know you were getting in so late, but I wanted to give you this." Mike holds out a giant casserole dish filled with something that you can't identify. It's multi colored with multiple layers, one of which looks suspiciously like rice and the next layer looks like cake.

There's no way I'm eating that. Maybe if I force feed it to Soldier Boy he'll leave me alone.

Mike was your neighbor, your neighbor who had lived next door to you for the past 2 years and was shamelessly in love with you. And as sweet as he was, there were a few things that you couldn't get past, most namely that he lived with his mother and that he had a mullet.

One time you'd had a nightmare about it ripping itself from his head, breaking in to your apartment, and smothering you in your sleep.

Not fun.

"Hey Mike." You smile tightly at him, dropping your hand from Soldier Boy's mouth. "Yeah I'm sorry I was out with some friends."

"You should have asked me to come! I love your friends." Mike smiles so wide you're afraid that it's going to break his face. “Especially Butcher. He’s so funny. Always joking-"

Poor Mike.

Every time that Butcher had come over to talk shop, he would mock Mike endlessly. And Mike was just too sweet to realize it. Hughie was the only one who actively tried to be nice to Mike, but even he found it difficult. Annie was the worst though, she'd tease you constantly about what your children would look like and had taken to photoshopping mullets onto pictures of babies and sending them to you at inopportune times.

"Maybe next time." You cough out an awkward laugh while Soldier Boy snorts behind you.

You continue down the hallway towards your apartment, the door next to his, and hope that he'll go back into his home, but no such luck.

“My mom made this for you!” He holds the dish out towards you.

“Oh um that’s so nice of her. But I can’t except that-“

Mike's mother comes to stand in the doorway of their shared apartment. She was wearing a bright purple Mumu, her makeup caked thickly on her face and her eyes accentuated with bright blue eye shadow. “Sure you can sweetie. You’re Mike’s special friend.” She winks before trailing her eyes up and down your body. “And you’ve got such a cute little figure.” His mother does a little shimmy as if trying to get you to do the same.

Kill me now.

“That’s what I keep telling her.” Soldier Boy purrs behind you.

“Don’t make me kill you.” You mutter back, knowing full well he can hear you with his super-hearing.

Oddly enough Mike does look suspiciously like his mother, they are both the same height, exactly three inches under you, and have the same mullet, but hers is a shocking blue-gray and his is jet black.

He blushes at her words. “Aww mom.”

Soldier Boy muffles a laugh before disguising it into a cough. You elbow him hard in the stomach.

“Well thank you.” You take the casserole dish with one hand, hoping that you can open the door and usher Soldier Boy in before he makes a comment. "I've had a long day and it's really late-"

“I helped her make this one.” Mike interrupts scooting closer to you, so close that you get a lungful of his terrible cologne, the one that the super sells for four dollars and smells like baby powder and Cheez-its.

“A man who can do it all.” Soldier Boy whispers to you.

Mike looks above your head as if noticing Soldier Boy for the first time. “Who’s that? I thought I knew all your friends.”

“He’s certainly very handsome-“ Mike's mother blushes from the doorway.

“Your brother?” Mike offers.

You can see his expression turn hopeful.

Probably thinking about how he can become friends with "said brother" and that will escalate our "relationship." 

“I’m Ben.” Soldier Boy says, stepping around you to shake Mike’s hand. “I’m y/n's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks bloom a bright pink, unable to respond to the ridiculous statement that he just made.

Murder. That's what sounds good right now.

“Oh.” Mike’s face falls. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” His eyes flick back to you, disappointment swimming in the irises.

You watch Mike’s hope begin to circle the drain.

“Well actually-“ You begin, but Soldier Boy interrupts you.

“Sorry I’ve been out of town for a while. We've been trying to do this long distance thing- you know how it is, late night phone calls-“ Ben trails off with a wolfish grin before dropping an arm around your shoulders. “But I just couldn’t take the long distance. Missed her too much. Phone call isn’t the same as sleeping in the same bed. Definitely not as satisfying. Not to mention there’s only so much my hand can do.”

Your cheeks bloom an even brighter red at his insinuation.  That’s when Soldier Boy does something even more unforgivable, he pulls you tighter against him and kisses you right there in front of Mike and his mother. The kiss is searing, making everything in your mind go blissfully blank. It had been so long since someone kissed you, since someone had held you this close to them without trying to kill you. His tongue teases your bottom lip and before you can stop yourself you open your mouth wider to let him in sighing softly against his lips, while you grip the front of his jacket.

For a moment you can’t remember why you didn’t want him to kiss you, why you denied yourself of this for so long. And then Soldier Boy's hand slides from your back to grab a handful of your ass.

Right.

You slap him so hard across the face that you're sure it would have broken the cheekbone of anyone who wasn’t a supe.

But Soldier Boy only grins wider, squeezing your butt again. “She knows that I like it a little rough.” He turns his lazy gaze back to Mike.

You open your mouth to cuss him out.

“Well we should probably get going.” Soldier Boy breezes. “Probably going to be a long night. If you know what I mean. But we’ll try to keep it down. Then again my girl's a little loud.” He winks at your poor neighbor who looks like he might cry, while his mother stands behind him fanning herself like Soldier Boy is everything she wants in a man.

He's ten for ten with the older ladies I'll say that.

“Oh right. Well I guess I’ll see you around y/n.” Mike turns to go.

“Mike wait-“ You try to say but he’s already vanishing through the door.

“Nice to meet you Mark.” Soldier Boy calls at his retreating figure, getting his name wrong on purpose.

You don’t even use your key to open the door you're so mad, the plants inside let you in. As soon as it opens, you haul Soldier Boy by the front of his jacket through the doorway and pin him to the wall just inside.

The casserole dish lands on your counter and by some miracle doesn’t break.

“What the hell is your problem?” Your hand is fisted in the front of his shirt, eyes blazing with anger and embarrassment.

He only grins. “You didn’t want me to play along? Sounded like that guy had been trying to get into your pants for a while. Unless he already has been or you want him to?"

You flush a deeper shade of crimson. "That is absolutely none of your business!"

“Well if we’re going to be living together doll, I’m pretty sure it is my business.”

“WE AREN'T LIVING TOGETHER I'M JUST LETTING YOU CRASH ON THE COUCH TONIGHT AND THEN YOU'RE GONE.” You shout.

“I think you’re gonna get pretty attached to me sleeping here. Maybe even  you let me sleep in your bed and even fu-“

You knock him back against the wall again. “If you finish that sentence I’m going to throw you out the window.”

“If you keep knocking me around, Mike's going to think you’re into some pretty kinky stuff.” Soldier Boy smirks down at you. “It’s actually turning me on a bit. Is it turning you on?”

“I don’t have to let you stay here.” You growl, releasing him.

“I think it’s because you like me.” He teases.

“I don’t.” You frown grows. “Okay couch is there goodnight.”

You point in the direction of the worn leather couch. You'd hauled it up three flights of stairs with Annie when you first moved in after you found a guy online selling it for nothing. And when you showed up to get it, he presumed to say it would be free if you let him take a picture of your feet. And after, when he had a black eye and a fun story to tell his wife, he gave you the couch for nothing as promised.

“No kiss goodnight?” Soldier Boy pouts his lips innocently.

“You already had one of those.” You snap thinking about slapping him again and trying hard not to think about how much you wanted to kiss him again.

Get a grip.

“Right. You liked it.”

“No I didn’t. And the next time you shove your tongue into my mouth I’ll bite it off.”

“You’re really violent for such a little thing.” Soldier Boy eyes you up and down as if sizing you up.

“And you’re really dick-like for someone who’s supposed to have the wisdom of the ages.” You turn towards the hallway intent on going to bed to avoid any more conversation with him.

"Whoa." You hear Soldier Boy say as he looks into your living room.

It was the reaction that everyone had when they entered your apartment. You had a small one bedroom apartment on the third floor of a building that you believed might be older than Soldier Boy. The kitchen and living room was mostly one room, the kitchen to the left with outdated appliances and a small circular wooden table with three chairs that served as your kitchen table and desk, and was separated by the large leather aforementioned couch that faced the wall that held two large windows. Beyond the front door was a small hallway that held the only bathroom in the apartment and your bedroom.

But that's not what was surprising.

Every open space in your apartment was covered in plants. There wasn't a single piece of unused space in your apartment. There were large standing monstera and fiddle leaf figs shoved into every corner and pots of dark green pothos bolted into the walls trailing vines to the ground so that every wall looked alive. Jasmine crept along the wall behind the tv that sat on an antique credenza between the two windows, sending the bright scent into the living room.

There was a large rectangular box bolted in the space above your sink where herbs and tomatoes hung down, probably a fire hazard, but you didn't care. The vibrant smell of mint, the spicy smell of rosemary, and soft tones of oregano and basil fused the air in your apartment with a life force that was impossible to ignore.

A large apple tree grew in a pot as big around as you next to the couch, with brilliant red apples hanging from it's branches, while a lemon tree and a tangerine tree intertwined their branches just behind the kitchen table.  The refrigerator, once white, was covered in the tangled vines of blackberry and raspberry, hanging with full fruit, while a potted strawberry plant sits prettily on top of the kitchen table, the bright red fruit enticing.

It was a lot. You knew it was a lot, but helping plants grow was the only thing you were good at, the only thing that felt right. One day you hoped that you could move somewhere and open a farmers market, but today you were stuck here, with Soldier Boy, who probably thought that you were crazy.

"I mean. I knew you had plant powers but this is-" He begins to say.

"A lot. I know." You roll your eyes. "The bathroom is down the hall." You gesture with your free hand towards the darkened hallway. "I guess I'll get you a pillow."

Ben is still looking around the room dumbfounded, as if he's never seen anything like this in his life, and he probably hasn't.

He's been in a Russian Lab for the past forty years, I mean he's probably not used to seeing anything this green.

You find the extra pillow in the linen closet along with one of the crocheted granny square blankets you made last year when Annie and you had a Jaws movie marathon, and a towel, before you move back into the living room.

Ben is still standing awkwardly by the couch as if he's not sure what to do, and it's the first time you've seen him look lost.

"Here." You throw him the pillow and the towel before you drape the blanket over the back of the couch. "One night."

"Why are you working for Butcher?"

"What?" The question catches you off guard. You were expecting him to make another pass at you, maybe check you out again. He was looking at you, but it was different, his gaze was softer, curious.

"You don't seem like you-" He gestures around the room. "Like you fit."

You blink for a second. "Um."

"I mean Annie used to be one of the Seven, Hughie does whatever the fuck Butcher tells him, but you you're different." His brow furrows together as if he can't figure you out.

"I really don't want to do this with you."

"This?" He looks confused again.

"Opening up with one another. You're here for one night. That's it." You force yourself to say, but the reality was you were still surprised, surprised that he actually seemed to care.

Stop. He's changing tactics because nothing else worked. He's pretending to care about you because he still wants to sleep with you.

"Please."

You can't answer for a second. It was the first time that he'd said that word in front of you before, or acted this way. It was also the first time that it had just been the two of you, before Butcher had been there or Frenchie or Annie and Hughie, but this was the first time that the two of you had been left alone.

Maybe that's why?

You hesitate before you answer, he was the last person you really wanted to open up to.

"I don't know, it's not all that bad." You shrug. "Before I didn't really use my powers all that much except like this." You gesture around the room for emphasis. "And when I went to college everyone was so serious about their futures and I didn't really like any of the classes. The only thing I enjoyed was using my powers at Please Don’t Die, the plant store I work at. And then Annie asked me to come help her out-" You bite your cheek. "She's my best friend and maybe I wanted to spend more time with her."

"But is it what you really want?" He cocks his head to the side, holding the pillow in one hand and the towel in the other.

You'd never seen him look so calm before, relaxed, like being here with you was washing away any anger or frustration he still had about the past. It was confusing, and at the same time you could feel your heart beginning to betray you. It was hard not to fall for him when he looked so good, eyes soft, dark hair falling into his eyes, clothes still dripping rain on your hardwood floors.

No. I will not fall in love with him, I will not fall in love with-

"Goodnight Soldier Boy. I'll see you in the morning." You turn to go, ignoring his final question.

"You can call me Ben." He almost whispers it, the sound of his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine.

"What?" You look back at him.

"You never call me Ben. But you can, if you want." He shrugs his shoulders, before he shakes his head as if he's annoyed with himself for suggesting it. "Never mind, just fucking forget about it-"

"Goodnight Ben." You feel the end of your mouth twitch up into a smile and with that you disappear into your bedroom, locking the door behind you.

And deep down you know that it's not to keep him out, but to keep you in.

As always, thank you so much for reading!

If you liked this story be sure to read my follow up fic that takes place in the future:

Open Mic Night!

Or if you'd like to read another series please try:

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

If The Stars Wish It So

A/N: I know it's crazy to start another series right now, but I'm kinda feeling this reader and Ben together? What do y'all think about it?

A/N: Update I've made a huge mistake and started another series.

If you'd like to be added to the taglist please let me know!

(Photos for series picture from Pinterest)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Hello would it be possible to do a dick Grayson x reader at the beginning he dates her just to make his ex jealous when he get back with his ex he relise that he fell in love with her so he’s trying to win her back at the end they get back together

Could you also add a moment where dick get jealous and a pov of him. I love some angst moments

Sure is!! Sorry this took so long to get to, I'm in the galapagos islands rn and college has been kicking my ass and winning

Pft, Whatever.

Jealous! Dick Grayson x Reader

Not real warnings other than a bit of angst and a ton of unfaithfulness😋

It was some rainy thursday when you met him.

You were trying to balance two paper coffee cups and your phone while wrestling your umbrella into submission when someone cought it just before the wind did. A smooth voice asked, “Need a hand?” You look up—and there he was.

Dick Grayson.

Letting him help was probably the worst decision of your life.

He was clothed a Gotham University hoodie and sweats, the kind of outfit that shouldn’t look good on anyone and somehow looked sculpted on him. His entire presence was almost like that of a Greek statue. He flashed you a smile, all effortless charm and dimpled mischief, and you were momentarily stunned silent.

“Thanks,” you managed, handing him one of the coffee cups in silent thanks while you got your umbrella under control. Stupid rain. You probably wouldn't have even met if it weren't for the crappy Gotham weather.

“No problem. You looked like you were about to enter mortal combat with that thing.”

You laughed- it was instinctive, disarming. You could feel yourself flushing a little as you took the cup back. He didn't walk away, though. Instead, he stood beside you for a moment, hands tucked into his hoodie pocket, glancing up at the stormy sky like it told a joke only he heard.

“Name’s Dick,” he mentioned finally, offering his hand as his eyes met yours again.

You took it. Rooky move. “I know,” you said. “I’ve seen you on the news. And—well—everywhere.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guilty. You?”

You told him your name, and you were honestly surprised by the way he repeater it, like he was rolling it over in his mouth to make sure it fit. You didn't expect him to remember it.

He did.

You didn't date immediately. At first, it was chance meetings. He showed up at your usual coffee spot. He passed by your bookstore window and waves. Sometimes he'd leave sticky notes on your bike seat—doodles, silly jokes, an occasional riddle. Always signed, “Grayson.”

By the time he asked you out, it felt inevitable.

Your first date was in a quiet rooftop garden above a city building you didn’t even know existed. He brought you takeout—real takeout, greasy Chinese boxes and everything—and you sat on the ledge watching the traffic below, listening to him tell stories you could barely believe were true. You didn't talk about his past or anything heavier than favorite childhood cartoons and worst first dates.

You thought, maybe, he was exactly what you needed. Maybe he saw you as someone real, not a headline or a rebound.

Maybe.

Three weeks in, you woke up to him making breakfast in your kitchen shirtless, humming something familiar. You watched him for a moment—he looks happy. You felt safe. Which, for the record, was a good sign since it was his first time staying the night. You don't think any of your past relationships started off so well, and you certaintly weren't treated breakfast in bed before Dick.

But then came the gala.

You were his date, of course. He introduced you to Bruce, to Tim, to Lucius. All you could do was try your best not to gape at the glittering crowd. Everything felt like a dream, like you were floating on clouds with Dick's arm looped aroynd yours—until she walked in.

She was wearing a red dress that made her look like she stepped off the cover of a high-fashion espionage novel. Her hair was swept to the side in effortless curls, and when her eyes meet Dick’s across the room, you could something in your chest tighten, like the strings of a sharp being tuned just a tad too much. Like the music they played was bound to be off.

You expected her to stay across the room.

You hoped.

She didn't.

“Dick,” she greeted with a voice that was both warm and pointed, her pupils dialating just that slight bit as their eyes met. Then her eyes flicked to you. “And you are?”

You told her your name, smiled, extended a hand. She shook it, but it felt more like a test than a greeting, like she was waiting for it to be wrong. Her hand lingered on Dick’s arm when she laughed at his dumb attempts to start a conversation between the three of you, and your blood simmered a degree hotter every time she touched him.

Everything just felt... Off. Like there was a bit more to their past than he was willing to tell you.

Later that night, in the car, it just felt too heavy. The air was too thick, too hot, and making it feep like your chest was being pressed in against your lungs and heart. “She gets too touchy for my liking.”

It was silent before- not comfortable, but certainly not the worst thing you've experienced with a guy.

Dick glanced at you and laughed—laughed. “Babs? That’s just how she is.”

“Yeah. With you.”

He looked at you for a moment, his eyes filled with a plea you'd realize later to be complete bullshit before they flickered back to the city streets. “There’s nothing going on between us. Trust me.”

You tried. God, you tried.

You started noticing patterns after that.

The way Dick texts you less when she’s in town. The way he talks about her in the past tense but lights up in the present. The times he cancels your plans with vague excuses that don’t quite add up.

Then comes the night you find the photo.

It’s not even hidden—just tagged on some socialite’s Instagram. Barbara in Dick’s lap, laughing, champagne in hand. His face close to hers. Intimate. Intertwined. Far more emotional than anything he's given you before.

"I was under the impression we were exclusive."

It's a pety text, you know, but there's not much else to do while curled up on your couch near tears over a stupid social media post. Some part of you just hoped it was old, just something that resurfaced once the public started seeing you together just to rile you both up.

But then you saw the chain you got for his birthday dangling from around his neck, pressed right against her cleavage.

He doesn't even respond until nearly 20 minutes later. "Can I come over?"

You almost didn't respond. Hell, you almost didn't see the message from "Birdy Boy💙" through the salty liquid gathering in your tear ducts.

But you did. "Make it quick."

It took him nearly an hour to make it to your apartment.

He blames it on traffic.

You know what he was doing. You know exactly what kind of game he's playing. But deep down, some shriveled part of you tries to believe him.

He doesn’t lie, not exactly. He says he didn’t mean to hurt you. That things with Barbara have always been complicated. That it wasn’t supposed to go this far.

“What wasn’t?” you ask, arms crossed over your chest as you stand in the living room of your apartment. Your throat is raw, and the room is dim. Typically, there would be a much more intimate reason for both of those situations.

He’s silent for a long time, the only sounds coming out of him being his soft breaths. Its rhythmatic, the rise and fall of his chest. It's nearly the same as all the times you've watched it while he slept. “I thought… maybe if she saw me happy, she’d move on. Or maybe—maybe she’d realize she wanted me again.”

He might as well have just taken out your hesrt right there, squeezed it, thrown it to the ground, spat on it, then stomoed it to pieces right there. Your chest is too tight to do anything, your heart pressing against your bones as your ears ring and vision gets slightly misty with tears that just won't fall.

You don’t speak. You can’t.

“So what was I?” you ask finally, voice trembling. You hate that sound. It feels weak, vulnerable... Like he can see right through the calm face you're trying so desperately to keep on. “Your bait? Your mirror?”

He doesn’t answer with anything other than just a short exhale that brings shudders through your spine.

You didn’t need him to. "Get out."

And, for a moment, you catch a glimpse of hesitation in his beautiful blue eyes, a glimpse of something real. But as soon as your eyes meet, he's turning around to leave. As his feet make silent steps toward your apartment door, he slips something out of his pocket and onto your table- the silver chain you got for his birthday.

You don't wait for the door to be fully closed to break down, the sobs racking your body before you even realize they're coming. It's subconscious, the way you still practically chase him like a kicked puppy that just can't get enough until your knees finally give out in front of the door.

You know he's still on the other side, probably mirroring your position sat on the ground leaned against it. You can hear a sharp, shuddering inhale from him just like he can hear your sobs.

You want to open the door. But you don't. Neither of you do.

You didn’t sleep that night.

After Dick left—after the weight of everything he didn’t say sinks into your skin—you sit on the couch, staring into the empty corner where he usually leaves his jacket. The silence in the room presses in like a second heartbeat. You think about every smile, every laugh, every night you thought he looked at you like you were irreplaceable.

He had looked through you the whole time.

You don’t cry again until morning.

And when you do, it’s not soft. It’s gut-deep, shaking, angry crying. It’s the kind of heartbreak you didn’t expect, not this soon, not from someone who had held your hand like it meant something.

He texts once, the next day.

“I’m sorry. You deserve better than what I gave you.”

You stare at the words. You reread them. You can hear his voice saying them in your head. But you don’t respond. Because you do deserve better. You just wish you hadn’t had to figure that out this way.

A week later, the headlines break:

Billionaire's Sonand Commissioner's Daughter Back Together Again! Gotham’s Golden Couple Reunited?

You don’t even click the article.

But the image—her arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead resting against hers—it’s enough.

He never officially ended things with you. But the message is clear. So you pack up the last sweatshirt he left at your place, the book he lent you, the coffee mug he joked was his “claim to your kitchen.” You put it all in a box. You set it outside your door. You stare at it for much longer than you'd ever like yo admit, even two yourself.

You send one message. "Come get your things. That’s the last favor I’ll do for you."

You don’t wait to see if he replies. His number is blocked as soon as the message goes through.

You didn't expect to meet anyone for a long time. You weren't even looking.

But then there was someone.

He's quieter than Dick, a little awkward, but honest in a way that feels grounding. He listens. He asks questions. He doesn't flinch when you mention past wounds, and he never makes you feel like you’re a stand-in for someone else.

With him, things are simple. Peaceful. You don’t lie awake wondering if you’re being compared to a ghost.

When he touches you, it’s tender.

When he kisses you, it’s now.

Dick finds out in the most predictable way: he sees you at a café, holding his hand across the table, laughing.

You don’t even notice him at first. But he notices you, and his heart is practically crushed under a ton of concrete.

You see him that night, waiting by your building’s entrance. Leaning against the wall, the hood of his favorite blue jacket up, jaw tight. You stop walking when you see him.

“What are you doing here, Dick?”

His voice is quieter than you expected, like there's too much tension in the air for him to even utter the words he's thought of a thousand times over since the last time you both spoke. “I wanted to talk.”

You cross your arms, letting out a soft scoff. You're not about to fall for his bullshit again “We don’t really talk anymore, remember?”

He flinches as if he's actually been hurt by your words, but presses on without hesitation. “Is he your boyfriend?”

You blink, completely dumbfounded by the sudden question. Part of you is angry he knows so much about your private life. Another part of you almost wishes he'd do something about what he knows. “Wow. That’s what this is about? You’re keeping tabs on me now?”

“I just—” He drags a hand through his hair, the strands still smooth and black against his skin before letting out a curt sigh. “It’s weird. Seeing you with someone else.”

You step closer, enough for him to hear the edge in your voice. “You’re with Barbara.”

He hesitates, truly hesitates, for the first time since you met. “Yeah. But—”

“No.” Your voice cracks like ice, sending shivers right down Dick's spine. “You don’t get to ‘but’ me, Dick. You made your choice. I wasn’t even your first one.”

His gaze drops, blue eyes meeting the pavement faster than a cannon to the ground.

“I loved you,” your tone is caving, and you feel it down to your bones. Your knees are almost ready to give out on you like the night he left. “I gave you the best parts of me. And you used me to win someone else.”

“That’s not fair—”

“It’s exactly fair,” you snap, raising your voice far more than you ever have at Dick before. “And now that I’m finally happy—actually happy—you think you can just show up and claim a place in my life again?”

“I made a mistake,” he says, shoulders shrugging as if the admission was something so obvious to himself. “A huge one. I thought I needed her back, but what I needed was you. You grounded me. You made me feel real again.”

You stare at him for a long moment. His face is open. Honest. And for a heartbeat, you remember everything good between you.

But then you remember how quickly he gave it away. How quick he was to use your kindness and love to get Barbara back.

“You don’t get to realize that now,” you whisper, the sound nearly carried away by the ambiance of Gotham City around your apartment building. “Not when I’ve already picked up the pieces.”

He reaches for your hand, but you step back to put in the code to your apartment, which, by the way, has certainly changed since the last time you two spoke.

“Goodbye, Dick.”

Masterlist

[womanofwords]

Frozen Heart (Part 14)

TW: yandere behaviour.

You woke up to flashes of light and yelling. The press was baying for blood at Wayne Manor.

"Mr Wayne! Any thoughts about what your child suffered through at the hands of their school bullies?" one yelled.

"Do you have anything to say to the parents of the kids that did this?"

"Will this affect the philanthropic ventures you support?"

You sighed as you watched your father apply Vicks Vapour-rub underneath his eyes. An old actor's trick to induce tears. Of course your father didn't actually care. How stupid of you to believe that he might.

"Little wing, with Daddy gone, how about we get in some quality time and try some physical therapy? Or perhaps a sports massage? I have very soothing hands," Dick bragged.

You mimed puking. "Stop doing that with your hands. You look like you're groping invisible boobs. I don't want you touching me."

Dick looked like he was going to deflate. Stephanie swooped in. "Maybe a movie would be more Y/N's speed! You can spend some time with me and Cass!"

"No thank you, Stephanie. I don't want to spend time with you and Cassidy. I have a headache," you lied.

They looked at you awkwardly. "Honey, Cass is short for Cassandra, not Cassidy. Don't you remember?" Stephanie asked. Cassandra was already tearing up.

"Oh, sorry. Everyone calls her Cass, and I . . . made a guess." You made sure to look through her when you said that. "Besides, I don't want to be near Cass since the time I woke up to her and Dick in my bed."

This was gut-wrenching. Genuinely gut-wrenching. They'd avoided you so much, you didn't even know some full names. Were they that distant, that useless?

Damian scoffed at Steph and Cass as they left, heartbroken. "They really are selfish, putting themselves over you. I told them to stop molesting you and to get out of your room or I'd sic Titus onto them." He smirked, obviously proud of himself. Sure, he'd sicced Titus onto you before, but now that Titus was being used to defend you, you were supposed to suddenly be OK.

"Damian, do you know that the word molest typically comes with a sexual connotation? You probably shouldn't be using it in relation to Cass and Dick, considering we're all supposed to be siblings," you said.

Damian's eyes bulged. "I'm going to find Alfred," he said, rushing off. You bit your tongue as he rushed off. Jason sauntered over to you.

"Finally. I was wondering when they'd split," he said. He picked you up out of your wheelchair, smiling at you. "Now, what do I do with you?"

"Put me down!" you yelled.

"Oh, right, put you down. You must need a nap," Jason said.

He placed you back into your wheelchair and wheeled you upstairs. "It's understandable that you don't want to b around those creepy siblings of yours. Cass and Dick broke into your room, Damian traumatised you, and I'm really no better."

"Correct," you snarked. "I have very little regard for all of you, and I view your attempts to worm your ways into my life as pathetic."

"That's fair," Jason said, chest aching. His own sibling thought he was a non-event, and he couldn't even disagree. He'd left you to your own devices, and you'd gotten hurt. "Well, big brother's going to fix things. You're going to take a nap and I'll read to you. And when you wake up, I'll play with you."

"Oh, joy," you snarked.

Jason brushed off your remark and began reading. You are going to love when I read to you, he thought, as his voice droned on. He was elated when your eyes fluttered shut and eventually closed. My good little Y/N.

Your smile was hidden by your arm. I'm so glad I bought loop earplugs before this debacle happened, you thought, just before your mind went blank. They block out Jason's voice so well.

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Taglist: @tinybrie, @bunniotomia, @kittzu, @justwannabecat, @exactlynumberonekryptonite, @vanessa-boo, @jscrawls, @sirenetheblogger.

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~RIGHT WAY

tw; nsfw, cursive language, mdni, insecure!reader, heavylifter!simon, strong!simon might not be lore accurate, au, smut

He was a brute, and no one knew him. No one tried to get to know him either, he was intimidating - no one dared get close, other than the friends he already has had. No one exactly wants to get close to a man who has "murder" written all over his face. Except for fools.

And you were a fool. You had not much friends, not much experience with love, but you knew one thing - You'd do anything for him, just the way he'd do anything for you. Simon was a man who stuck to his vows- and his vow was to love you. The only problem was.. He didn't know how to. He loved you with his whole heart he just didn't know how to show you. And he showed it in ways that were different- other people would consider weird, maybe. But he wholeheartedly believed- he was soft. Maybe just.. Not in the right way. Simon's idea of love was to fuck you until you cry, to fuck stupid ideas out of your head. He gave comforting words, sure, but he much preferred fucking it all out of you. He hadn't had much relationships before you, so again, what does he know about love? Today was no different. Coming home from work, long day, and your boss was a bitch. You had been feeling insecure over the past few days, looking at him- looking at yourself. The difference was big after all, you wondered what people thought of you two when you were outside. You don't even yell, "I'm home," before throwing your shit down and taking your shoes off, walking to the couch to sit down. He heard the door slam shut though- and came outside. "What's wrong, sugar?" He asked, crossing his arms, looking at you up and down. That frustrated look on your face, the way your thighs were crossed and your back laid back- he already knew. You looked at the tv and said, "Nothing." Typical, he thought to himself, he wasn't expecting you to say it either way, but he was gonna get it out of you one way or another. After a little back and forth of no's and yes' - you snapped at him. "For fucks sake Simon, can you just fucking stop? I said nothing, get over it!" ... His eyes darkened and he stepped towards you, his voice lowered. "Is that how we talk, sweetheart?" He asked, his arms dropping to his sides. You swallowed, you fucked up. "Simon- I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry- Please- Listen-" "No, love. I'm tired of you being a goddamn brat today. I get you had a rough day, but shit, do you have to take it out on me? I'm just bein' nice, aren't I? Tryin to solve your problems and you get all snappy." He got closer to you, and leaned down. He grabbed you by your legs and picked you up, carrying you to the bedroom. He threw you down, and took off his shirt immediately, getting on the bed and on top of you. "Tell me love, do we need to do this every time you have a bad day? Get all that attitude, just to end up whining beneath me all the time?" He asks, putting one of his hands on your cheek. You look up at his face, and he leans in to press a kiss on your lips. "It's okay baby. We'll fix it." He said, unbuttoning your pants. He reached a hand inside your panties, toying with you- he knew you hated teasing. Only slight touches, he rubbed his hand through your slick folds and smirked at you. He was enjoying it, but he was gonna enjoy what was gonna come more. Because it wasn't you. You ended up completely naked in front of the mirror, whining, begging and crying, eyes teary and face all red, puffy. He loved it. He played with your clit and spoke, "What's wrong love? Can't take it no more?" He asked, and you shook your head. "Too bad." You were being edged for hours, and he didn't care. He didn't care you were dripping- He didn't care you needed it- because this was his punishment for you. "Simon- please, stop.. Please let me- I'm gonna explode- I need it, I need you.." You pleaded, trying to get him to crack, but not even your sweet little eyes looking into his would stop him. He wasn't gonna let you come. "You can beg better than that baby, you know you can. Come on, show me you're sorry, and maybe I'll let up, yeah?" He mocked, fastening his pace.

"Please- please- please please please please please, Simon, just let me.. I love you, I'm- I'm so sorry- I'll never talk to y-you like that again, I promise- I'm sorry.. Fuck, fuck fuck, please- Don't torture me sir.." Sir? That snapped his eyes open from whatever plan he got going. He smirked and kept going, not stopping this time. He smiled through it, talked you through it. "There she is, there's my good girl. There she is, she's back with us. Missed you so bad, baby. You were being such a brat, thought you got lost in there.." He smirked. You couldn't take it anymore, his thumb rubbing against your clit- his voice whispering to you, and the scenery in the mirror all together- just finished you off. You panted, heavily, and you knew your legs were shaking badly. You sat there for a while, letting your body calm down- and then you crawled to the other side of the bed for your pants but he stopped you. "Love, who said we were done yet?" This was gonna be a long night. So yeah, you weren't sure if this was the right way to love. But you sure as hell loved it.

A/N: rewriting this tomorrow cause i dont like it but i felt the need to post

[yanyannica]

bokuto koutarou is loud in the way he loves. like, literally.

"I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOUUUU!"

no one can blame you for dragging a palm down your exasperated expression, an attempt to salvage some dignity and maybe hide the rushing heat to your face.

but you only have yourself to blame for the slowly growing smile on your face.

in a flash, bokuto had practically sprinted through the halls upon seeing you, wrapping you up in his big arms and squeezing like there’s no tomorrow.

"kou, you're crushing me!"

"sorry! it's really hard to hold myself back whenever i'm around the love of my life who's just always looking so damn gorgeous and perfect and kissable and — !"

really, really stupid. this idiot. you flush hotly against his chest, weakly returning his embrace as he continued to list down everything he adored about you.

your idiotic boyfriend had always been like this ever since you agreed to going out, not sparing half a second before full-out teleporting whenever he catches the smallest peek of you in the vicinity — school hours or not.

you pull away, your heart skipping a beat when you realize he leans in closer to close the distance you just created. it looks like it pains him to be anything short of touching you.

"you really shouldn’t run in the halls, idiot."

he has the audacity to not even look the least apologetic, grinning at you like a love-sick dumbass. perhaps he is one.

"all is excused in the world as long as i get to see you in my arms like this. hehe."

"you shouldn’t excuse yourself!"

keep calling him stupid, idiotic, a fool — but you know damn better than anyone that you're the bigger dumbass between the two of you. a love-sick dumbass just as bad as him, it not, even worse.

it's so unfair that he so effortlessly makes you this happy, so you'd like to reword.

bokuto koutarou is intense in the way he lives. god forbid if he ever half-assed anything regarding his ways of life. leading up to that, that most especially includes not just the way he loves, but his love.

his big, big heart is served to you in a platter, and it's only right that you return it tenfold.

"by the way, saying i love you multiple times doesn't automatically mean you love me more than i love you."

"what?! how dare you?! i love you like, way, way more!"

your hands leave his sides to pinch both of his cheeks, "and i love you way, way, wayyyy more."

"nuh-uh, nuh-uh! i love you the morest!"

your cheeks are starting to hurt from how much your suppressing the urge to smile. "what? that's not a word, kou."

"no word can match up the extent of my love for you, that's what!"

"neither does mine," you say, and you're both utterly content.

poor akaashi watches the shameless banter display of affection and ultimately decides you two are the biggest idiots to ever walk the planet.

WHY IS HAIKYUU LEAVING NETFLIX ?!?

[applejusue]

Can I request a reader elille fic where reader is struggling mentally like she has bills to pay and is broke and just feels like she is failing at everything she trys but Ellie is there to reassure her and be her rock because that's how I'm feeling right now and I need heart warming fluff and comfort I feel broken

I'm sorry to hear that honey. I definitely understand I'm going through a similar patch right now. In fact, I actually based the later half of this scenario on what happened to me last week so please don't feel alone. -`♡´-

Toothache ──  Ellie Williams ౨ৎ˚₊

tldr; money has been tight lately c/w: angst, comfort, fluffy w/c: 1.3k

Getting paid didn't even feel like a relief anymore, not when it barely managed to settle into your account before your bills ate away like termites. You felt drained, from the long hours and the fact that you could barely hold down this apartment, let alone afford groceries. You didn't want much, just some sort of security and cereal that wasn't from the clearance section.

You'd only started seeing Ellie recently, it didn't feel right to talk to her about it. She still bunked with Joel, trying to save up her cash. She worked on and off on farms, construction sites, and anywhere that would hand her some notes for a few hours of labour. Ellie just seemed so.. casual about it. You supposed if you had somewhere to stay, to be without constantly watching your balance then maybe you'd be casual too. But you knew you weren't being fair, her life wasn't all sunshine either.

Even if you didn't think Ellie noticed the way you hesitated when you two were at the mall or when she suggested going for ice cream, she did. It's why she always made some bullshit excuse to get up and use the bathroom while you were at a diner so she could pay the waitress under the counter before you even had a chance to try and argue with her about splitting the cheque. It's why Ellie insisted on going with you to the grocery store even though in your mind that was the most boring quest in the world, somehow convincing you that it made sense for her to chip in because:

"Well, I crash at your place every other night so these are basically my groceries too.."

Ellie never wanted to make you feel like you weren't independent, she knew damn well that you could handle yourself. The thing was though, she also wanted to handle you. She wanted to take care of you, but she was also afraid of overstepping that line and making you feel ashamed. Ellie could see how irritable you were lately, not at her but in general. You were lost in thought, staring at labels too long to ultimately just put them back on the shelf. It broke her damn heart.

You were currently trudging up the stairs to your place, your heart felt like it was beating inside of your head. You'd just been to the dentist, a 'check-up' on your perfectly fine teeth, that should've merely cost you 25$ to cover the consultation. When the receptionist gave you the bill you could barely even process it, let alone find it in you to pay it. 140 dollars. For what? A bunch of extra shit the kind lady had done to your mouth without feeling the need to mention that oh yes, this will cost you more.

You were annoyed at her, annoyed at yourself for being so stupid, annoyed at the fact that you even paid the f-

"Hey, baby.. how'd it go?"

Ellie greeted you when you pushed open the door with all the grace of a bull in a china shop. Her eyes were warm, they always were when she looked at you. Her freckled face had a smile, though it faded when she noticed how red your face was, and how tightly you were holding your phone. Her words were so simple, and you could think of a million answers. I got scammed. That fucking bitch overcharged me. I don't know if I can afford rent this month.

But none of that left your lips. Instead that simple, 'how'd it go?', was what made it all gush out like sand. Ellie stood abruptly as she watched the tears start to spill down your cheeks, inwardly awkward that she'd read this situation wrong. She wasn't the best at talking to people, let alone comforting someone but when it came to you she tried her damn hardest.

"Shit.. baby, don't tell me she pulled out one of your pretty teeth.."

Ellie took your face into her hands, her thumbs pressing open your lips in an attempt to lighten your mood just a little. She also used it as an excuse to rub those tears from your cheeks, her dark eyes furrowed in concern. You learned early on that Ellie didn't make jokes or try and be funny when you were upset to downplay what you were feeling, but because she couldn't bear to see you cry.

She pulled you in close to her chest, your face immediately pressing into the soft fabric of her hoodie. Ellie always smelled like cheap cologne and a hint of sweat that was so distinctly her you could often smell it in your dreams. Her hand moved into your hair, trailing down your scalp as her fingers twitched anxiously.

"They all seem to be intact.. so what's the matter babygirl?"

Her voice was a hushed, more serious whisper now against your head as she pressed a gentle kiss against your crown. Your sobs were still coming heavy, you were just so angry, so stressed all the damn time. It took a few moments of just being swayed by the taller girl until you could finally choke out a response.

"I just can't-.. can't afford it, any of it.."

Your tears stained the grey material against her chest, your arms tightening around her long waist as your brows furrowed in a mixture of sadness and frustration.

"Can't even go to the damn dentist without losing half of my paycheck.."

You huffed, your irritation softening just slightly. You'd kept this packed up so tight for so long. It felt good to tell her. It just made Ellie want to hold you closer. She guided you to the sofa and onto her lap, cradling you against her chest. It made her feel calmer too, to be holding on when you were upset. She couldn't stand that someone would take advantage of you like that.

"I know it's tough.. you're too damn pretty to be working so much.."

Her voice was soft, almost a little frustrated herself. She hated seeing you like this, stuck in a shitty job that barely paid you. Things weren't cheap these days either, if you don't got a trust fund in this economy you're shot in the foot before you can even learn to walk. You had calmed down a little, her attempts at lightening your mood taking the edge off your pain though only slightly.

"Baby, you know I'll always take care of you.. You've always got a place with me if things get tough.."

She muttered against your hair, her cold hands rubbing up and down your arm to soothe you as best she could manage. It didn't matter what Ellie had, she'd share it with you always. Whether that be her twin-sized mattress in Joel's place, her clothes, hell she'd even give you her piggy bank if it made a damn difference.

"We're gonna get through it.. together, it isn't gonna stay like this.."

Her soft voice was doing wonders, even if you knew there were still bills to pay and deadlines you'd need to meet. Ellie made you feel like the world wasn't going to end tomorrow, or the day after. For the first time in a while you felt like you could breathe, atleast for now. You nuzzled into her chest with a soft sigh, slowly looking up at her with a timid smile.

"Do my teeth atleast look good?"

Your murmured half-heartedly, a soft huff leaving your lips.

"They're beautiful.."

Ellie chuckled softly, taking your jaw with her hand and looking over your smile. She then leaned down, kissing your lips gently as her hand trailed to your hair, letting you rest closer to her. Between breaths, she murmured:

"I'll get you that refund tomorrow even if it takes getting kicked out of a damn dental clinic.."

a/n: Thanks for reading honey, If you've gotten this far feel free to give a request or check out my other works! Reblogs are greatly appreciated too  🍎 

[gothamite-rambler]

Nightwing: I'm so stupid, stupid, stupid!

Poison Ivy: Great, great, great. I'm going to die with the eighth Robin.

Nightwing (shouting): I'm the first!

Ivy: Oh, I'm sorry… I’m sarcastic most of the time. Don’t freak out, it's a Riddler trap, we can— You okay?

Nightwing shook his head, lying on the floor. He moaned softly, overwhelmed as the countdown ticked down. Ivy sat beside him, sighing.

Ivy: You’re doing something only Harley can that works on me, making me feel pity for you. What’s going on?

Nightwing sniffled, turning his face away.

Nightwing: Do you have two minutes?

Ivy (glancing at the ten-minute timer): Yeah.

Two minutes of sadness later, Nightwing sighed somberly after sharing his story.

Ivy: …Damn.

Nightwing: And that’s just what happened with… her. She’s not around anymore. I thought I’d bury this secret because it happened so long ago, but I don’t care anymore.

Ivy: Do you… Are you...

Nightwing: I'm okay, don’t get me wrong. It doesn’t fester in my mind constantly, but sometimes when I’m out there being a hero and I’m reminded of her in little ways… I get scared. Sorry for rambling.

Ivy: No apologies needed. I asked what was wrong, and I’m not judging you. I can kill her if you need me to.

Nightwing: No. I hope she’s living the life she deserves, but I don’t believe in taking lives or putting hits on people who hurt me, that’s not how I want to be a hero. Controversial, I know.

Ivy (chuckling): Well, at least you still have your sense of humor.

Nightwing: It’s a natural talent of mine. Alright, let’s get back to solving this trap and maybe we’ll get out of here alive.

Ivy: Don’t worry about that. I know where he keeps the key to the escape hatch. And if that doesn’t work, I can use my vines to beat Edward up.

Nightwing: Why are you being helpful?

Ivy: First, I support all victims, male or female. Second, I hate Edward way more than Batman. And I like you. Consider this a freebie from me.

Nightwing: Aww… I probably still have to arrest you, though.

Ivy: I’ll be out soon, so I don’t mind. Honestly, I needed a vacation.

Ivy stood up along with Nightwing. She went to a floor mat, turned it off, and pulled off the spare key Riddler had taped there. Nightwing laughed at the obvious hiding spotted that he hadn't noticed.

Ivy: He’s weird like that. I have a hint on where he’s hiding out too.

Nightwing: Okay, by the way, I like your new outfit.

Ivy: Thanks. Wearing those dresses isn’t the best choice with some creepy villains around. I like your costume too.

Nightwing: Thanks.

[yvesssssssss]

We're so hungry we could eat..

Saw the tiktok trend, thought of rion and nagumo, and now here we are:3

The clock ticked slowly in the corner of the shop.

Nagumo sat cross-legged on the floor, flipping through an old magazine someone left behind about gourmet tofu recipes. Shin lay on his back nearby, groaning every few minutes like it would summon food. Lu was perched on the counter, swiping through TikTok with that look she got when she was about to be a menace.

You were curled up beside Nagumo, head on his shoulder, scrolling your phone and trying not to fall asleep.

"I'm so hungry," Shin whined, rubbing his stomach.

Lu didn’t look up. “Same.”

Nagumo tilted his head. “We just ate an hour ago.”

“Yeah, but I burn calories by existing,” Shin shot back.

“You burn brain cells by existing,” Nagumo muttered.

You chuckled quietly, hiding it behind your hand.

Lu suddenly sat up straighter. “Hey, hey! Let’s do a TikTok trend.”

Nagumo didn’t glance up from the magazine. “Is this gonna involve dancing?”

“No, it’s just a voiceover,” she replied, grinning. “We all say ‘We’re so hungry we could eat…’ and then something ridiculous. You have to keep a straight face.”

Nagumo flipped a page. “Sounds stupid. I’m in.”

You smiled and nudged his side. “Come on, it’ll be funny.”

Shin sat up too. “Alright, on three.”

They all huddled close, and you joined them, Lu hitting record on her phone.

“One… two…”

Nagumo smirked lazily, expecting to hear something like "a whole vending machine" or "a raw crocodile."

“We’re so hungry we could eat… Rion Akao.”

The magazine slipped from his hands.

Silence.

Shin coughed.

Lu bit back a laugh.

You pressed your lips together, eyes watering from trying not to burst out laughing.

Nagumo didn’t move. He stared blankly at the floor, like he’d just blue-screened.

“…What?” he said, voice quiet.

Lu couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “Oh my God, your face!”

Shin chuckled nervously. “Dude, it’s a joke! A trend!”

You wiped a tear from your eye. “I’m sorry—it was too perfect—!”

Nagumo blinked once. Twice.

Then, slowly—mechanically—he turned to look at all three of you.

“Rion?” he asked, like confirming the name might reveal it was all a dream.

Shin held up his hands. “Don’t kill me, man! I didn’t even wanna say it—Lu made me!”

“You liar!” Lu yelled. “You practiced it twice!”

Nagumo’s gaze shifted to you last.

You grinned, sheepish. “Still love me?”

He stared at you for a second longer…

Then he snorted. A quiet, reluctant laugh.

“…You guys are idiots,” he said.

Shin exhaled. “So you’re not mad?”

Nagumo grinned. “Oh, I’m furious.” He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “But now I get to mess with all of you and sleep soundly knowing I’m morally justified.”

“Wait, wh—”

Shin didn’t finish, because Nagumo casually threw a fork like a dart, pinning Shin’s sleeve to the floor. Lu yelped and ducked behind the counter, knocking over a stack of paper cups.

You were already sprinting halfway up the stairs. “I regret everything! I take it back!”

“Payback!” Nagumo sang as he strolled toward them. “In the name of Rion, prepare to suffer!”

Somewhere, maybe, Rion’s photo in the backroom tilted just slightly—like it was laughing too.

[springismss]

ᱬ⛧ baby mine 2.0 ~ s. todoroki

sum: how would shoto feel about becoming a father? here's a little month-by-month on how things would feel/go.

pairing: husband! shoto todoroki x wife! reader

content: sfw - established relationship, pregnancy, just an overview. fluffy and sweet. epilogue spoilers of shoto’s hero position for anime only watchers/those not caught up on the manga/new fans.

a/n: oh hey, i'm finally back after my first week of training at my new job with a work i've been doing when i come home. this is just a little rewrite of baby mine which i posted a good few years ago, but i feel like this is a good follow-up to perfect as well (both of which will be linked below). as always, likes, comments and re-blogs are deeply appreciated.

word count: 2,114

links: bnha/mha masterlist | baby mine | perfect | masterlist

The air felt thick as you paced back and forth, chewing on your fingernail as you looked at the object on the bathroom countertop. You should be used to this feeling, but you still felt the same antagonising dread at what you would see. And much like every other time, you prayed that this one would be different.

The sound of the timer going off brought you out of your little ritual, feet bringing you to a stop in front of the object. Maybe you should leave it, pretend this wasn't happening once again and throw the stupid thing away. You knew what you were about to see, a sight all too familiar these past few years.

Taking a shaky breath, you reached forward and grabbed hold of the object, hand shaking slightly as you stalled for a moment. This was like every other time, so why were you feeling more anxious this time? Deciding it was best to get it over and done with, you quickly turned the object over, only to be met with the words you never thought would appear for you.

‘Pregnant 3+’

Holding back a sob, you gripped the counter to ground yourself. This had to be a joke, right? A faulty test. Something just to get your hopes up before it was cruelly ripped away from you again. You didn't think you had it in you to go through that again.

A sudden knocking on the door brought you to your senses as you quickly wiped your eyes, hoping to catch any stray tears that had begun to fall. "(y/n)? Are you okay? You've been there a while this time". Of course, they were worried; you could tell by how they sounded.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you turned and walked towards the door, placing your hand on the handle and opening it with a small click. You looked up, taking in the person in front of you, the person who was just as worried as you were.

Shoto Todoroki - your husband and the current number two pro hero.

"Sorry my love, it took a little longer than I thought. I couldn’t find the towels…”. The look on his face told you that he knew exactly what you had been doing. Your ever attentive husband always knew when you were up to something, especially when it come to something like this.

It was no secret, that despite his past, both you and Shoto wanted to expand your family with a child of your own. A child that would no doubt be showered with love and given a childhood the pro never had a chance to have.

"So, tell me...". More tears slipped down your cheeks as you tried to hold back another sob, unable to find the right words to say. Shoto, used to the heartbreak as well, sighed out, crushed that yet another attempt, to him, had been unsuccessful. "It's okay, there's always next time".

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to him as he ran his hand through your hair. Trying to soothe you in one of the best ways he could. He knew it wasn't much but it was the best he could do. Feeling powerful, even as your husband was a gut wrenching feeling

"Sho, I'm pregnant". He looked at your teary eyes in shock as your words slowly began to sink in, looking down at your outstretched hand that held the test. A big smile tugging at his lips as he cupped your face, kissing you softly.

♡ Month 2 ♡

The feeling of being on cloud nine never left for you both, although Shoto was slightly wary. Sure his relationship with his father was slowly getting better but due to his childhood and upbringing, he was always left second-guessing himself.

What if he fucked up? What if he didn't fall into the role of being a father? Those questions stayed at the back of his mind, regardless of how much he pushed them aside. "Shoto, I still can't believe we're going to be parents".

Looking down at your belly, you smiled and rubbed your hand over your still soft stomach. As the days passed, it felt more like a dream. Sure, you'd suffered with the morning sickness, the bouts of fatigue, but you knew it would be worth it in the end. "We can't wait to see you, little one!".

The dual-haired male looked at you and smiled. He knew you'd support him in this journey, his past couldn't define how he was as a dad. Only he could, and with you by his side, he knew you would always cheer him on.

♡ Month 3 ♡

A blank screen greeted the two of you as you both entered a room, exchanging greetings with the sonographer.

Today was the day the two of you would get to see your child for the first time. Various 'what ifs' ran through your mind as you gripped Shoto's hand. His eyes looking into yours in a silent promise everything would be okay. He knew you wouldn’t be able to handle another heartbreak.

Laying yourself down, you got comfortable and closed your eyes as you waited for a sign that everything was fine. That the life growing inside you was still there and stronger than ever. The lump in your throat growing dangerously until you heard it.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

That small sound made you open your eyes, tears lining your waterline as you saw the tiny life on the screen. A slight squeeze of your hand drew your attention to Shoto, his eyes shining as he looked at your child.

"A perfectly happy and healthy baby. Such a strong heartbeat already".

Both of you smiled at each other, the tears finally slipping down the sides of your face as you took in the image. The lump that had been there moments ago was slowly disappearing as you gazed at the screen.

♡ Month 4 ♡

A small bump had begun to appear on you, your body finally starting to show the presence of the small life you were carrying. Your hand never left your bump whenever you had the time to touch it. "I guess I look kind of pregnant now".

Looking down, you smiled and wrapped your arms around your husband, your eyes meeting his before you closed yours slightly, falling into a much-needed sleep.

Glares over you, then down to where you were starting to swell. Shoto’s eyes flashed in slight worry before returning to normal, gently placing a hand on yours, careful not to wake your sleeping form.

He wasn't going to lie, he was scared. Scared of what was to come and the type of father he'd be. No one could blame him, not even you, but you'd support him no matter what.

♡ Month 5 ♡

Facing the ultrasound screen again, the pair of you chatted amongst yourselves, having the odd argument about the gender of your child. Of course, you didn't mind what you were having, but it was nice to have a little friendly bet on who would be right.

The small image of your child appeared on the screen again as your hearts began thumping in disbelief, the high you felt gazing on the small life never leaving. Everything was perfect and normal, even seeing what looked like a small wave or two.

"Now, would you like to know the gender?". You both looked at each other, nodding with a smile. It might have seemed like a stupid question, one that others would most likely say no to, but to you and Shoto, it would mean you would get to prepare for what was to come.

"Well, I can tell you both, you're having a perfectly healthy baby-".

♡ Month 6 ♡

Clothes. Toys. Essentials.

You name it, it began to pile up as you started to finally prepare properly for the arrival of your child. Emotions had began to run high, and if it wasn't floods of tears, it was hot tempers. Your hormones weren't helping you whatsoever, as the slightest thing would set you off.

Shoto walked into the bedroom to find you curled up on the bed, a small baby grow hugged to your chest as you sobbed. In an obvious panic, he ran over and held you close to him after he sat down. "Hey, baby, what's wrong?".

That sentence, despite coming from a good place, made you cry harder, muffled sobbing sounding against his chest.

Turns out you were emotional over the fact that a small baby could fit into that piece of clothing.

♡ Month 7 ♡

Shoto's family gushed over you continually, making sure you were safe and comfortable whenever you visited them with Shoto.

Fuyumi and Rei would excitedly touch your bump, asking a variety of questions. Gossiping and sharing stories of how Shoto was as a baby, some making you laugh at your husband’s embarrassment.

Natsuo would spend time with Shoto, casually talking about life with his younger brother. Especially how he was feeling regarding the upcoming arrival and, despite not being a father himself, encouraging him to enjoy the years ahead.

Enji, on the other hand, would sit back and watch on. Taking in the buzz around him with a somewhat contented smile on his face. He still has a bit of a way to go before he could be a part of the family unit.

♡ Month 8 ♡

Things became more painful and tiring for you as your body ached. You wanted nothing more than for the heavy feeling to go and have your baby in your arms. Showering them with all the cuddles and kisses you could manage. "(y/n), it won't be long now, I promise".

You looked up a little and smiled, the overwhelming tiredness visible on your face. He hated not being able to help you, take away the pain you felt, the uneasiness, but most of all the worry. The worry that something was going to go wrong, regardless of you both making it this far.

Resting a hand on your swollen belly, you felt the strong movements as you hummed out. Taking hold of your husband's hand, you rested it on the place you had your hand moments ago, just in time to feel a kick.

"I hope so, Shoto. I just want to meet our little one".

♡ Month 9 ♡

A new cry pierced the silence of the room, ringing loud and clear as you gripped onto Shoto. The two of you smiled as tears slipped down your faces. The emotions you felt finally crashed through you at once. "You did it (y/n)! I'm so proud of you".

Shoto placed soft kisses on your dazed face as a small bundle was placed into your arms. The baby moved around slightly, settling down on the softness of its mother's skin, beginning its first feed. Eyes opening slightly before shutting, suckling away.

"White hair with red tips, gorgeous blue eyes. She's definitely a Todoroki".

You looked up as Shoto sat down beside you, giving a tired smile as you nodded your head. The past months had been a whirlwind. Despite the tiring time you’d just been through and the way your body ached, this moment made it worth every single second.

♡ The first year ♡

The tiring nights. The endless amount of changes and feeds.

Shoto couldn't deny it; it was hard. Really hard. He constantly second-guessed himself, and he didn't feel like he was good enough. Even during those doubtful times, you encouraged him as his biggest supporter, be that through words or actions, you always made sure he was okay.

Things became slightly easier, and cuddles and kisses became more frequent as your daughter grew. New milestones and wonders greeted you all. Even Shoto's family adored their niece and granddaughter. Especially Enji, who took his time, taking great care not to mess up this time around.

Then came the words.

The day she said "Dada".

Shoto sat crying. Normally, he wasn't one for showing emotion, but the moment she said that, he couldn't hold back. From the moment he found out you were finally pregnant to the first time holding his beautiful daughter, he couldn't believe he could be a dad, yet he was such a perfect dad to this little girl who couldn't help but adore the very ground he walked on.

Picking her up, he gently rocked the small girl as her eyes slowly closed, drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

"I've got you, princess. Daddy will keep you safe. I'll always be your number one hero, no matter what happens".

permanent tags; @ani-net

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

[n0rmal-cat]

Normal, normal, it's me, ✨

I'm here to submit a request bc it's been eating at me, and I know you'll do it justice.

You know VNs (visual novels), right? The basis being, multiple people get their own little versions to play with the same character(s), choosing different choices that line up with them irl, an immersive experience for different people, stay with me, ik I sound crazy,

Okay so imagine this, a VN MC keeps going through the story and understands his life is looping, he also understands that, like, the player character keeps picking different options every so often and he'll make comments on that. Like if the player picks different sweets as like their favorite treat, he'll make little comments on that like "oh this time it strawberry" or "you know last time it was..." "will it be something else time" stuff like that. So he basically sees the player as either someone with amnesia or like a system/DID

Anyways, the true idea is, a player starting up the game for like a 3rd time and getting all confused about how the MC is reacting to them, maybe he goes off course,

Yandere visual novel protagonist x reader

[WHY WOULD YOU INTRUST ME WITH THIS GOOD IDEA IDK WHAT IM DOING HALF THE TIME, SO SORRY ✨ I DONT KNOW IF THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED, BECAUSE I GOT A LITTLE CONFUSED, IF NOT ILL WRITE ANOTHER ONE😭💀]

[also yes his name is #### because most protagonists don’t get names]

It wasn’t like everyday was the same, no god had given him the luxury of letting him live a full life only to restart them over…and over…and over.

“So #### what will it be, you can either study with me or sneak out so you can go to the party or it’s the drop out”

He didn’t know how many times he had been asked that stupid question. If he study with his ‘best friend’ he gains enough knowledge to pass the next test with flying colours and impress them.

But if he went to the party they would gain a reputation with the ‘bad boy’ and impress them instead.

He didn’t want to do either, they honestly just wanted to stay in his dorm and sleep for the night.

“I don’t think-I’m sorry I think I’m going to go out tonight” what was that, that was his voice wasn’t it but he didn’t say that.

“Alright I see how it is, you go have fun”

“Wait hold on i didn’t say that!-“ before he could finish his sentence he were already in a different scene.

“No I didn’t want this!”

“#### I’m so glad you came. I promise this won’t be a waste of time” they swooped their hair.

“God you again?” For the past three times he had been hanging out and living their life with this guy.

“Sorry man I think I’m just going to go home” he didn’t like this guy and never had, but the universe just loved to put them together he guessed.

“Did I choose the wrong option? I don’t remember this dialogue?” They snapped their head to the sky. What was that, ‘who’ was that.

You, they saw you. His chest twisted, his stomach felt like it was clasping on itself. Who were you? And what were you?

God? Was that what you were, were you the one setting him on loop over and over again, but why?

“Maybe I should look up the guide again?…did the game freeze? No no no! My progress!”

Game? That’s what this was wasn’t it you weren’t god and they weren’t a person were they. They felt their world go dark, literally in fact as they stared into the empty void.

They clenched and unclenched their hand a couple of times “haha….hahahAHAHAHA” how could they have been so stupid. Of course it was a game but then if they weren’t alive what were they? And if they felt alive could they die?

The world booted itself up again to the ‘first day’. “Damn we’re gonna have to start over again I guess, fifteen endings to go”

Only fifteen? And then what you’ll just leave them, their world never to be opened again left and forgotten. They couldn’t have that not when your were the only real person they had ever met, they didn’t want to constantly fall in love with the same cardboard cutout anymore.

A prompt pop up, “oh no I wake up late, and for my first day at college to, should I have breakfast and risk being late to class or skip breakfast and risk being hungry the rest of the day”

“I guess we’ll skip breakfast, I want to get Raphael out of the anyway”

Is this what it felt like to be controlled by you, was everything he did up to you? Oh god they were having a crisis.

“I actually would like breakfast, kinda want to think about my life right now I also wouldn’t like to start collage for the third time today”

There was an unsettling silence “huh..”

“Can we talk about my life over breakfast actually” they poured themselves a bowl of cereal.

Their world turned black again but when it came back on they were in the same spot. “Stop I literally just want to talk”

“Oh my god this is not happening to me, I’m in a creepypasta aren’t I?”

“What’s a creepypasta?

They got no response back, “so why do you want to get endings of my life, and also why are all the endings to my life me getting with different people, is there a bad ending can I die, have I died and I just don’t remember?” They ate their cereal.

“I’m just gonna” they shut the game off it seemed, #### turned it back on themselves.

“That’s very rude you know”

“How did you do that?!”

“Don’t really know, I’d like to know a lot of things actually, and it would be a help if you answered them”

“Are you gonna haunt me?”

They look up at the sky looking at the face looking back at them in fear.

“Yea…if you don’t play my game every day and talk to me I will haunt you” that will definitely work.

“You sound unsure?”

“And…?”

Reader eventually caves in continues to play, it’s actually pretty fun he gives them tips on how to answer certain questions so they don’t even have to look up a guide anymore.

He also stopped complaining when they turn off his game console now, oh but don’t worry that’s just because he’s infected your phone with his code your stuck with him forever <3

He just wants to talk please, please talk to him.

[pixel art because he’s a game…it just fits]

[wotay27166]

The (crappy) art of Freakycare

Much like I did in my initial 'final farewell' post (which turned out to not be final post at all because so much shit happened afterwards), I want to focus this post on an aspect that other people have not talked about - the art itself on the new freakycare blog. A lot of other people have talked about how KC refuses to take any accountability and trying to shed culpability, her refusal to acknowledge or apologize to any victims (Emsody being the only one who received so much as a 'sorry' from KC, has since been redacted with the removal of the post from the main blog), or the fact that she has very openly gone all in to publicly post her secret canon material (and pathetically begging proshippers to interact with every post, hungry for attention).

Before we continue I would like to link the donation/commission links of some of the affected victims of KC and her associates: Commission Jeremy Donate to Chaosblast Donate to Toynbeck Donate to Aobasgirlfriend

As well as the response of people KC directly groomed/victimized in light of the new blog (more may be added in the future):

Chaosblast's response (archive) Imani's response (archive) Maddie's response (archive) Fink's response (archive)

And, to any KC bootlicker supporters being like 'errm you wouldn't have found the freakycare blog unless you were looking for it, checkmate antis' I'll copy/paste what I replied to one who was harassing an anticare poster:

Related accounts get recommended to people due to tumblr's algorithm, don't be stupid now. If people follow interact with sparklecare and related tags/blogs, freakycare will come up too because a lot of you goons who post with freakycare tags also have posts on your blogs tagged with sparklecare AND cometcare (some even posting freakycare with those two aforementioned tags in the same post). If the same person is posting with the same art style and the same characters no shit the algorithm will show people. If people had to go out of there way to find it, it is unlikely it would've been found instantly by people. Also peep you, this supposedly anti harassment pro shipper going out of their way to harass and bother this person who's explicitly tagged their post as anticare. Hm! Curious! Maybe you should heed your own mantra and block/move on and curate your own experience by muting tags! But you guys are all hypocrites so who's shocked.

Without further ado, let's talk about how the quality of KC's art has taken a significant dip, especially comparing it to the initial Cometcare, which Freakycare directly parallels. I will not be going for the content itself, I'm sure I would be a broken record saying 'sexual harassment and covert incest is not cute or funny at all, and 'the way it's framed as a normal light hearted thing is abhorrent' over and over. Considering the first 'arc' is also called 'coming out' I think directly comparing being incestual to coming out as queer is quite frankly incredibly insulting.

Rushed art

We'll start with the most basic observation - the art is very rushed. There a distinct lack of care when comes to various aspects of the art that is most evidently seen in the inconsistency in how the frills on Ally's dress lines up between panels, nor how the bow does not connect properly. They are inconsistent and change wildly between panels that are right next to each other. It looks terrible.

Missing features

In various panels very basic assets of the character's design are just not there, such as Ally missing a star on her cheek so she has 3 instead of 4, the sleeves missing their frill lines, and Sly constantly missing the glasses' temples. Below you will also see Ally's whiskers disappearing periodically.

Copy/Paste job

It is actually not uncommon for artists to use the same panel with minor altercations between panels. HOWEVER, this is something that was not in the original Cometcare, as KC used to redraw the same pose entirely between asks. In Freakycare, however, this copy/pasting of panels is used extensively. Much less effort and in some cases, the erasing of the previous panel hasn't been done properly so there's distinct leftovers between them in the lineart.

Imprecise lineart

The lineart often doesn't connect properly or overshoots where it should stop. This also leads to things like weird dents in Ally's facial stars patterns.

Bad anatomy

Anatomy is of course subjective depending on style, but at the very least one would hope for consistency, or things making sense connecting to the body wise.

Cometcare VS Freakycare

Cometcare first, and then Freakycare second. I don't think it's controversial to say I think the art in Freakycare is worse in every single way. The shapes are much wobblier looking, the anatomy is worse, the character figures look stiffer, the speech bubble placement is less cohesive, etc.

In conclusion, this is quite literally slop. It is sloppy, rushed, and little care has been put into the art. I feel even if you are a proshipper incest lover, your standards should 100% be higher - this is the garbage you settle for? I guess quality doesn't matter when to someone who enjoys this content, the mere notion of incest being present is like having keys jangled in front of one's face to entertain them. It is no exaggeration to say not a single panel has any care put into it. KC is capable of better art, she just doesn't have a reason to try anymore. KC thoroughly rinsed money out of her former fanbase through patreon, and the merch drops - anyone left doesn't care.

KC gave up working on Sparklecare, and turned her back on the people who loyally enjoyed what came before for this. It is sad that the instant gratification from people who clap like seals for anything 'problematic' has caused KC's art and writing to degrade significantly. KC does not care what people think or believe, and that 100% extends to the victims of her and her associates. KC feels no remorse for doing things such as retraumatizing a fellow victim of incest in Imani, or triggering her partner so bad new alters of a traumagenic system were created to cope in Chaos, or willfully ignoring those who have reached out about her groomer pals. To KC, her fictional animals matter more than the real people she has hurt.

In addition I would argue this outright unsafe for KC to be doing, considering her family home living situation. Being back publicly to do so has further put a spotlight on her, and her actions.

Look who's in the likes, Woofles who groomed a 15 year old and is a self admitted pedophile/zoophile. Jk-tech too, who you may remember actively defended Oddballs, the real CSEM trafficking site. This is the type of person KC wants to cater to now.

And the greatest irony of all of course, is how page 161 from Sparklecare V2 directly calls out behaviour like KC's.

If you want something like Sparklecare or Cometcare to fill the void and not support KC, there's always the various projects by former fans.

In the future a few month down the line when more former fan projects are out I may make a second/continuation post promoting them.

[zrvllya]

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

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is it over now, taylor swift

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james potter x reader ! one shot ⏾

how to haunt someone politely

ᵎ!ᵎ angst, emotional hurt, grief/mourning, parental death (mentioned), alcohol use, reconciliation, angst with hope, female rage somehow, trust issues, pining, pensieve, past betrayal, lowercase intended, miscommunication, second chance perhaps?

word count [ 6,800 ]

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the great hall buzzed with morning chatter, but it all faded to white noise as you stared blankly at your untouched porridge. three hundred takeout coffees later—that's how the song went, right? except in your case, it was three hundred breakfasts later, three hundred classes later, three hundred nights of staring at the ceiling while your roommates slept peacefully.

"you need to eat something," remus murmured beside you, his voice gentle but firm. "you've lost weight."

"not hungry," you replied, pushing the bowl away. your eyes unconsciously drifted across the table, landing on him—james potter, laughing at something sirius had said, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners the way they used to when you'd whisper stupid jokes against his neck at three in the morning.

he caught you looking. you didn't look away fast enough.

something flashed across his face—pain, maybe? good. let him hurt. let him fucking hurt like you did.

"he asks about you," remus said quietly, following your gaze. "all the time."

"fascinating," you replied, voice dripping with venom. "tell him to keep asking. i'll keep not giving a shit."

remus sighed. "you know why he—"

"don't," you cut him off. "i don't care if his dad was dying, rem. i would have been there for him. instead, he chose to push me away, to be cruel, to make me hate him. and then he fucked jessica hall at that party two days later."

you stood up abruptly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "i have ancient runes."

"it's thursday," remus pointed out. "you don't have ancient runes until—"

"then i'll be early."

"i'm not leaving," you whispered against his chest, two summers ago at potter manor. outside, rain lashed against the windows, but inside james' bedroom, everything was warm. his parents were downstairs, preparing dinner, and you'd snuck up to his room simply to hold each other.

"ever?" he asked, his fingers tracing patterns on your spine.

"ever," you confirmed, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "they'll have to drag me out."

"good," he murmured, tipping your chin up to kiss you properly. "because i love you more than anything in this world."

"more than quidditch?" you teased.

"infinitely more than quidditch," he said solemnly.

"then i guess you're stuck with me," you whispered.

"promise?" he asked.

"promise."

in ancient runes, you could barely focus. professor babbling's voice washed over you as you stared out the window at the quidditch pitch. james would be there later for practice. you used to watch him practice, bundled in his oversized jumper, cheering him on. now you avoided the pitch entirely.

"miss y/l/n," professor babbling called. "perhaps you'd like to translate this passage for us?"

you dragged your eyes from the window, scanning the runes on the board. your mind was blank.

"i—i'm sorry, professor. i wasn't—"

"paying attention, clearly," she finished for you. "see me after class."

the rest of the lecture dragged on. when the bell finally rang, you approached babbling's desk with reluctance.

"this is the third time this month, miss y/l/n," she said, looking at you over her spectacles. "your marks are slipping."

"i know, professor. i'm sorry."

her expression softened. "is everything alright? you've always been one of my best students."

"just tired," you lied. "i'll do better."

she nodded, unconvinced. "i expect your translation essay on my desk by monday morning."

the library was quiet that evening. you'd claimed your usual corner table, surrounded by ancient runes texts and parchment, trying to focus on anything but memories of him.

footsteps approached. you didn't look up.

"can i sit here?"

your quill froze mid-word. his voice still affected you, still sent electricity down your spine despite everything. you refused to look up.

"everywhere else is taken," james added softly.

"library's big, potter," you replied coldly. "find another spot."

"please," he said, and something in his voice made you finally look up.

he looked awful. well, awful for james potter, which meant he was still unfairly beautiful but clearly suffering. dark circles beneath his eyes, hair more chaotic than usual, tie loose around his neck. he'd lost weight too, you noticed with unwanted concern.

"what do you want?" you asked.

"to study," he replied, holding up his transfiguration textbook. "nothing else."

against your better judgment, you nodded once. he slid into the chair across from you, careful to keep distance between you.

for thirty minutes, you worked in tense silence. you could feel his eyes on you occasionally, but every time you looked up, he was focused on his book.

until—

"your hair's different," he said suddenly.

you touched the ends of your hair self-consciously. you'd cut it after the breakup, a desperate attempt to feel different, to be someone new.

"observant," you muttered.

"i like it," he offered.

"i didn't do it for you."

"i know," he said quietly. "you never did anything for me. that's what i loved about you."

loved. past tense. the word stung more than it should have.

"is there a point to this conversation?" you asked sharply.

james looked down at his hands. "i just... miss talking to you."

"you should have thought about that before you made me hate you."

his eyes flashed with hurt. "is that what you think i did?"

"it's what you did, james," you said, your voice finally betraying emotion. "you were cruel. deliberate. you pushed and pushed until i broke. and then you fucked jessica hall two days later."

"it wasn't like that," he said, so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

"enlighten me, then," you challenged. "tell me how it was."

he opened his mouth, then closed it again. his eyes—those stupid hazel eyes you used to get lost in—filled with something like regret.

"i can't," he finally said.

you laughed bitterly. "that's what i thought."

you gathered your books and stood. "stay at the table. i'll go."

"wait," he said, reaching for your wrist but stopping just short of touching you. "your essay. is it for babbling?"

"what's it to you?"

"you translated this wrong," he said, pointing to a line on your parchment. "it's not 'eternal darkness' here—it's 'temporary shadow.'"

you stared at him. "since when do you know ancient runes?"

a flush crept up his neck. "i've been studying it. i know how much you love it."

the implication hung between you. he'd been learning your favorite subject, even after everything.

"well, thanks," you said stiffly, correcting the translation. then, against your better judgment: "how's your dad?"

pain flickered across his face. "he, uh... he died. last month."

your heart dropped. "james, i'm—"

"don't," he cut you off. "don't say you're sorry. i know you are. it's who you are."

silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken words.

"i should go," you finally said.

"for what it's worth, i never slept with jessica."

you froze, back still to him.

"she passed out on the couch," he continued quietly. "i put a blanket over her and slept on the floor. everyone just assumed..."

"why are you telling me this now?" you asked, still not turning around.

"because i'm tired of you thinking i'm someone i'm not," he said simply. "i'm many things, but i'm not a liar. and i never stopped loving you."

"you're an asshole!" you screamed, tears streaming down your face. three months ago, in an empty classroom, the beginning of the end.

"if that's what you think, then leave," james said coldly, his face a mask of indifference that didn't reach his eyes.

"what happened to you?" you asked, voice breaking. "where is the james i fell in love with?"

"maybe he was never real," he replied, turning away. "maybe this is who i really am."

"look at me," you demanded. when he didn't, you grabbed his arm. "look at me and tell me you don't love me anymore."

he finally turned, his eyes suspiciously bright. for a moment, his mask slipped, and you saw such pain that it stole your breath.

then it was gone, replaced by that cruel indifference. "i don't love you anymore."

the world stopped turning.

"liar," you whispered.

but you walked away anyway, because even if he was lying, he'd made his choice. and it wasn't you.

you didn't turn around in the library. you couldn't look at him, couldn't let him see how his words affected you.

"good night, james," you said, and walked away.

that night, you lay awake in your dormitory, staring at the ceiling. the anger that had sustained you for months was crumbling, leaving behind confusion and an ache that wouldn't subside.

"he never slept with her," you whispered to yourself. "he never slept with her."

but he'd still pushed you away. he'd still chosen to hurt you rather than let you support him through his father's illness. that betrayal couldn't be undone with one truth.

could it?

the next morning at breakfast, you felt his eyes on you the moment you entered the great hall. this time, you didn't look away. this time, you met his gaze across the crowded room.

he looked surprised, then hopeful. cautiously, he raised his hand in a small wave.

you didn't wave back. but you didn't look away either.

it wasn't forgiveness. it wasn't even the beginning of forgiveness. but it was something.

a crack in the ice.

maybe, three hundred more breakfasts from now, you'd be ready to hear him out. maybe you'd be ready to understand why he pushed you away when his father was dying, why he thought hurting you was better than letting you in.

or maybe not.

you picked up your spoon and began to eat your porridge, aware of him still watching you, aware of the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

it wasn't over. not yet.

but whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

three days passed. you'd caught him watching you in every shared class, during meals, in the corridors between lessons. his eyes followed you like a ghost, haunting your periphery.

you still hadn't spoken since that night in the library.

"he's miserable," lily evans said, sliding into the seat next to you in the common room on friday night. your friendship with lily had always been complicated—her history with james, the way she'd become a tentative ally after your breakup.

"that's not my problem," you replied, not looking up from your charms essay.

lily sighed. "i know what he did was awful. but—"

"but what?" you snapped, finally meeting her eyes. "you're going to defend him now? after all the shit you've said about him over the years?"

"people change," she said quietly. "he's changed."

you laughed bitterly. "into what? someone who destroys the people who love him? who pushes away anyone who tries to help him?"

lily studied you for a long moment. "he didn't want you to watch his father die," she finally said. "he didn't want you to see him fall apart."

your quill snapped between your fingers, ink splattering across your parchment. "he told you that?"

"no," lily admitted. "remus did. but only because he's worried about you both."

you closed your eyes, fighting back the wave of emotions threatening to drown you. "i would have been there for him," you whispered. "through anything."

"i know," lily said gently. "that's exactly what scared him."

"i think i want to be an auror," you told james, sprawled across his bed that summer before fifth year, his parents downstairs making dinner. "or maybe a curse-breaker."

james traced his fingers along your arm, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "you'd be brilliant at either."

"what about you?" you asked, turning to face him.

he shrugged. "dad wants me to join the ministry."

"but what do you want?"

james was quiet for a long moment. "i want to do something that matters," he finally said. "something brave."

you reached up, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "you're the bravest person i know, james potter."

he caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "only when i'm with you," he whispered. "you make me better than i am."

"no," you said, shaking your head. "i just see who you really are."

he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "swear you'll never leave me," he whispered, vulnerability raw in his voice.

"i swear," you promised. "not even if you beg me to."

how terribly ironic those words would become.

you skipped dinner that night, taking refuge in the astronomy tower. the stars always calmed you, reminded you how small your problems really were in the grand scheme of things.

except this pain didn't feel small. it felt all-consuming.

"i thought i might find you here."

you didn't need to turn to know it was him. james' footsteps were as familiar to you as your own heartbeat.

"are you following me now?" you asked, keeping your eyes on the stars.

"no," he said, stopping several feet away. "but i know you come here when you're upset."

"i'm not upset."

"liar," he said softly.

the accusation—so gentle, so knowing—broke something inside you. you spun around, fury rising like a tidal wave.

"don't you dare," you hissed. "don't you fucking dare call me a liar. not after what you did."

james flinched but held his ground. "i deserve that."

"you deserve worse," you spat. "you want to know what upsets me, james? the fact that you decided, all on your own, that i wasn't strong enough to handle your pain. that you'd rather destroy us than let me see you vulnerable."

"it wasn't about you not being strong enough," he said quietly.

"then what?" you demanded, stepping closer. "what possible reason could justify how you treated me?"

something dangerous flashed in his eyes. "you want to know how my father died?" he asked, voice cracking. "he wasted away. inch by inch. day by day. until he wasn't my father anymore—just a shell. i watched my mother break apart trying to save him, trying to be strong for him. i watched her lose herself in his suffering."

tears streamed down his face now, but he made no move to wipe them away. "i couldn't do that to you," he whispered. "i couldn't watch you destroy yourself trying to save me."

"that wasn't your choice to make," you said, your own voice breaking. "i loved you. i would have—"

"exactly," he interrupted. "you would have given everything. sacrificed everything. and i would have let you, because i was selfish and scared and falling apart."

you shook your head, anger warring with grief. "so instead you decided to be cruel?"

"i thought if you hated me, it would be easier," he admitted. "for both of us."

"don't touch me," james snapped, jerking away from your hand. two weeks before the breakup, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

"james, please," you begged. "talk to me. whatever's happening, we can face it together."

"there is no 'we,'" he said coldly. "there's me, and there's you, and right now i need you to leave me the fuck alone."

you stepped back as if slapped. "what's happened to you?"

he laughed, a hollow sound that chilled your blood. "maybe i'm finally showing you who i really am. maybe this is who i've always been."

"i don't believe that," you whispered.

"then you're a fool," he replied, walking away without looking back.

later that night, you found him on the quidditch pitch, flying recklessly in the pouring rain. when he finally landed, soaked and shivering, you were waiting with a towel and dry clothes.

he stared at you, something like desperation in his eyes. "why are you still here?" he asked, voice raw.

"because i love you," you said simply. "even when you're like this."

for a moment—just a moment—his mask cracked. he reached for you, pulling you against his wet clothes, burying his face in your neck. "i don't deserve you," he whispered.

"maybe not," you agreed, holding him tightly. "but you have me anyway."

the next day, he acted like it never happened. the walls were back up, higher than before.

"you broke my heart," you whispered in the astronomy tower, stars witnessing your confession. "not when we broke up—i could have survived that. you broke it when you made me believe i never really knew you at all."

james looked stricken. "i'm sorry," he said, and the words seemed torn from somewhere deep inside him. "god, i'm so fucking sorry."

"sorry doesn't fix anything."

"i know," he agreed. "nothing can fix what i did. but i need you to know that everything before—every moment, every word, every promise—that was real. that was the truest thing in my life."

silence stretched between you, heavy with history and pain and love that refused to die, no matter how badly you both had wounded it.

"i saw you," you finally said. "with that ravenclaw girl last week. she looks like me."

james paled. "it's not—"

"i don't care who you fuck, potter," you cut him off. "but at least have the decency not to replace me with my clone."

"she asked me for help with transfiguration," he said quietly. "nothing happened."

"do i look like i care?" you asked, but your voice betrayed you, cracking on the last word.

"yes," he said simply. "you do."

you turned away, unable to bear the honesty in his eyes. "leave me alone, james."

"i can't," he whispered. "i've tried. for months, i've tried. but i can't stop loving you. i can't stop missing you. i can't stop hating myself for what i did to us."

you closed your eyes, fighting back tears. "that's your problem, not mine."

"look at me," he pleaded. "just look at me and tell me you don't love me anymore."

the echo of your own words from months ago hit you like a physical blow. slowly, you turned to face him.

"i don't love you anymore," you said, but your voice shook, betraying the lie.

james stepped closer, closing the distance between you. "liar," he whispered, his breath warm against your face.

"i think i want to marry you someday," james murmured against your hair, both of you hidden beneath his invisibility cloak in the astronomy tower, breaking curfew to watch a meteor shower the winter of sixth year.

you laughed softly. "we're sixteen, james."

"i know," he said, tightening his arms around you. "but i also know what i want. who i want."

you turned in his arms to face him. "you might change your mind."

"never," he said with such conviction that your heart stuttered. "you're it for me. the rest of my life, you're it."

you kissed him then, slow and deep and full of promises neither of you were old enough to make but made anyway.

his proximity was intoxicating, dangerous. you could smell his cologne—the same one you'd given him last christmas. you stepped back, needing distance.

"we can't do this," you said. "you can't just decide you want me back and expect me to fall into your arms."

"i know," he said, not following when you retreated. "i know i have no right to ask anything of you."

"then what do you want from me?" you demanded.

james ran a hand through his hair—that familiar, infuriating gesture that had always made your heart skip. "a chance," he said simply. "not forgiveness, not yet. just... a chance to show you who i really am. who we were."

"i know who we were," you said bitterly. "we were everything. and then we were nothing."

"we were never nothing," he whispered.

you turned away, unable to look at him anymore. "i have to go."

"please," he said, desperation edging into his voice. "just tell me if there's any hope. even the smallest chance."

you paused at the door, not turning around. "i don't know, james," you admitted. "i honestly don't know."

three days later, you found a small package outside your dormitory door. inside was a vial of swirling silver memories and a note in james' handwriting: these are my truths. if you want to see them, pensieve in dumbledore's office. password is 'acid pops.' he knows you're coming.

you stared at the vial for hours, turning it over in your hands, watching the memories shimmer and dance.

did you want to see inside his head? see the truth he couldn't speak aloud?

did you want to risk understanding him?

because understanding might lead to forgiveness. and forgiveness might lead back to him.

and you weren't sure if you were ready to fall again, knowing how badly it would hurt if he let you break a second time.

but that night, as you lay in bed staring at the vial on your nightstand, you made your decision.

tomorrow, you would see his truths.

tomorrow, you would decide if what you had was truly over.

morning arrived with a sense of inevitability. you'd barely slept, the vial of memories a constant presence in your consciousness. by dawn, you were already dressed and waiting for an appropriate hour to visit the headmaster's office.

at precisely eight o'clock, you found yourself standing before the stone gargoyle.

"acid pops," you murmured, and the statue leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase.

dumbledore was waiting, as if he'd been expecting you at this exact moment. his blue eyes twinkled knowingly over his half-moon spectacles.

"miss y/l/n," he greeted. "mr. potter informed me you might be visiting. the pensieve is ready for your use."

you clutched the vial tightly. "thank you, professor."

"memories are curious things," dumbledore mused as he led you to the cabinet where the pensieve sat. "they show us truth, but always through the lens of the one who experienced it. remember that as you view them."

with those cryptic words, he excused himself, leaving you alone with the shallow stone basin.

hands trembling slightly, you uncorked the vial and poured the silvery contents into the pensieve. the memories swirled, hypnotic and terrifying. taking a deep breath, you leaned forward until your face touched the surface, and then you were falling, falling...

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james sat beside a hospital bed in st. mungo's, holding the frail hand of a man who barely resembled the strong, vibrant fleamont potter you remembered from previous summers. his father's skin was pallid, stretched thin over protruding bones, his breathing labored.

"how is school, son?" fleamont asked, his voice a ghost of its former self.

"good," james lied, forcing a smile. "we're top of the house cup standings."

"and your girl?" fleamont's eyes brightened slightly. "when will you bring her to visit again?"

james swallowed hard. "soon, dad. she's... she's busy with exams."

another lie. you watched james' face carefully, saw the pain etched into every line.

euphemia potter entered then, carrying tea. her normally impeccable appearance was disheveled, dark circles prominent beneath her eyes. she looked like she'd aged years in months.

"james," she said, her voice brittle. "your father needs rest. perhaps you should return to school now."

james nodded, pressing a kiss to his father's forehead. "i'll be back next weekend."

in the corridor outside, euphemia collapsed against her son, silent tears streaming down her face. "the healers say there's nothing more they can do," she whispered. "it's just a matter of time now."

james held her, his own face a mask of controlled anguish. "how much time?"

"weeks. maybe a month."

you watched as something hardened in james' eyes—a decision forming.

"don't tell anyone," he said. "not yet."

the scene shifted. james in dumbledore's office, receiving the news of his father's deteriorating condition. "you'll need to prepare yourself, mr. potter," the headmaster said gently. "and perhaps consider who you wish to have support you through this difficult time."

"no one," james said firmly. "i don't want anyone to know."

dumbledore studied him over his spectacles. "isolation rarely eases grief, mr. potter."

"i'm not isolating myself," james argued. "i have my friends. sirius, remus, peter."

"and miss y/l/n?" dumbledore inquired. "surely she would want to support you."

the memory showed james turning away, his voice tight. "especially not her."

another shift. james in the boys' dormitory, sirius confronting him.

"you're destroying her," sirius said bluntly. "and yourself in the process."

"it's better this way," james insisted, pacing like a caged animal. "you've seen what this is doing to my mother. she's fading away right alongside him, sirius. i can't... i can't watch that happen to y/n too."

"so your solution is to make her hate you?" sirius demanded. "that's fucked up, prongs."

"she'll move on," james said, but his voice broke on the words. "she'll find someone better. someone whole."

"you're a fucking idiot," sirius said, but there was no heat in it—only sadness.

the scene changed again. james standing outside the charms classroom, watching you laugh with your friends. the naked longing on his face was devastating. remus appeared beside him.

"it's not too late," remus said quietly. "tell her the truth."

"it is too late," james replied, turning away as you emerged from the classroom. "i made sure of it."

memories began to blur together now—fragments of james receiving owls from st. mungo's, sleepless nights, moments where he nearly broke and ran to find you, only to stop himself. and underlying it all, a sense of desperate, suffocating love for you that he was systematically trying to destroy.

then the party after your breakup. james, drunk and miserable, while everyone around him celebrated. jessica hall approaching him, flirting openly.

"want to go somewhere quieter?" she suggested, trailing her fingers down his arm.

james looked at her through glazed eyes. for a moment, it seemed he might agree—might try to lose himself in someone else.

instead, he shook his head. "i can't," he said simply.

later, jessica passed out on the couch, james covering her with a blanket before collapsing on the floor nearby, tears streaming silently down his face as he clutched something in his hand—a small velvet box containing a ring you'd never seen.

the final memory was the most painful. james at his father's funeral, standing stoic beside his mother as they lowered the coffin into the ground. you weren't there—couldn't be there—because you didn't know.

afterward, in the empty potter house, james finally broke. he destroyed his room in a fit of grief and rage, shattering photo frames of the two of you, ripping down the quidditch posters you'd always teased him about, smashing the mirror where you'd once stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist as you both got ready for the day.

when the destruction was complete, he sank to his knees among the debris, clutching a salvaged photograph of you to his chest, whispering your name like a prayer.

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you emerged from the pensieve gasping, tears streaming down your face. the room spun around you as you gripped the edge of dumbledore's desk for support.

it was too much—too raw, too real. the james in those memories was both familiar and foreign. the boy you loved, twisted by grief and misguided protection.

you needed air. needed space to process what you'd seen.

dumbledore was nowhere in sight as you fled his office, running blindly through the corridors until you found yourself outside, the cool spring air hitting your tear-streaked face.

without conscious thought, your feet carried you toward the lake—your spot, where you and james had spent countless hours hidden from the world.

he was there. somehow, you knew he would be.

james sat beneath the beech tree, staring out at the water, looking more vulnerable than you'd seen him in months. he turned at the sound of your approach, hope and fear warring in his eyes.

"you saw," he said. not a question.

"i saw," you confirmed, your voice raw from crying.

silence stretched between you, filled with everything you couldn't say.

"why didn't you just tell me?" you finally asked, the question that had haunted you for months.

james looked down at his hands. "because you would have stayed," he said simply. "you would have sacrificed everything to be there for me, and i couldn't bear it."

"that wasn't your choice to make," you said, anger flaring again despite what you'd witnessed.

"i know," he admitted. "i know that now. i was... i was trying to protect you from my pain."

"by causing me pain instead?" you demanded, stepping closer. "by making me believe everything we had was a lie?"

james flinched. "i thought it would be easier if you hated me."

"easier for whom?" you spat. "certainly not for me. do you have any idea what it did to me, watching you become someone i didn't recognize? hearing you say you didn't love me anymore with that mouth that used to beg for mine?"

you were trembling now, months of suppressed rage finally breaking free. "that mouth that used to whisper how much you loved me, how you'd never hurt me—and then you turned into a lying traitor right before my eyes."

james looked stricken, each word landing like a physical blow.

"i deserved that," he whispered. "all of it and worse."

"yes, you did," you agreed. "you took everything from me, james. not just our relationship—you took my trust, my belief that i could recognize truth from lies, my ability to let anyone close again."

you sank down onto the grass, suddenly exhausted. "i understand why you did it now," you admitted. "but understanding doesn't erase what happened."

james remained standing, keeping his distance. "i don't expect it to," he said softly. "i just... i needed you to know the truth. even if it changes nothing between us."

you looked up at him, really looked at him for the first time in months. behind the grief and regret, you could still see traces of your james—the boy who had loved you completely, who had promised you forever and meant it.

"it changes things," you finally said, voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the lake. "but i don't know how much."

hope flickered in his eyes—fragile, tentative. "what does that mean?"

you stood, brushing grass from your robes. "it means i need time, james. time to decide if what you did is something i can forgive. time to figure out if there's anything left worth salvaging."

"i'll give you all the time you need," he said immediately. "i'll wait—however long it takes."

you nodded, turning to leave, then paused. "your father... i wish i could have been there. for both of you."

james' eyes filled with tears. "he asked about you," he said, voice breaking. "right until the end."

the admission cracked something inside you. without thinking, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him—the first time you'd touched in months. he stiffened in surprise, then melted against you, his body shaking with silent sobs.

"i'm so sorry," he whispered against your hair. "i'm so fucking sorry."

you held him, letting him break apart in your arms the way he'd been so afraid to do. this wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. a beginning, perhaps. or at least not an ending.

when you finally pulled away, his face was wet with tears, but there was something lighter in his expression—as if sharing the burden had lifted some of his grief.

"i should go," you said softly.

he nodded, not trying to stop you. "thank you," he said. "for seeing. for understanding, even if you can't forgive."

you turned to leave, then looked back one last time. "i don't know if we can ever be what we were," you said honestly. "too much has happened. but maybe... maybe we can find out who we are now."

it wasn't a promise. it wasn't even hope, really. but it was possibility.

and for now, that would have to be enough.

a week passed. you avoided each other by unspoken agreement, both needing space to process what had happened by the lake.

you caught glimpses of him—in the great hall, during classes, across the common room. each time, your eyes would meet briefly before one of you looked away. the air between you was charged, electric with possibility and uncertainty.

your friends noticed the shift. "something's different," lily observed one evening as you both studied in the library. "between you and james."

"nothing's different," you lied, not looking up from your potions text.

lily arched an eyebrow. "you looked at him yesterday. actually looked at him, without that hatred in your eyes."

you sighed, closing your book. "i saw his memories," you admitted. "in dumbledore's pensieve."

"oh," lily said softly. "his father?"

you nodded. "and everything else."

"does that change things?"

you traced a finger along a scratch in the wooden table. "it explains things. i'm not sure it changes them."

but that wasn't entirely true. something had changed—you could feel it every time james entered a room, the awareness that prickled across your skin, the way your body still responded to his presence despite everything.

understanding had eroded some of your anger, but not all of it. in its place was something more complicated—a tangle of hurt, longing, and unresolved desire that made it difficult to breathe when he was near.

"i want you," james whispered against your neck, his hands sliding beneath your shirt. seventh year had just begun, before everything fell apart. you were hidden in the room of requirement, celebrating your anniversary.

"show me," you challenged, arching into his touch.

his eyes darkened as he looked at you, hunger and adoration mingling in his gaze. "tell me what you want," he said, voice rough with desire.

"everything," you replied, pulling him closer. "i want everything."

later, curled against him in the tangled sheets, you traced the contours of his face with gentle fingers. "promise me something," you whispered.

"anything," he said immediately.

"promise you'll always tell me the truth. no matter how difficult it is."

james caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. "i promise," he said solemnly.

another promise broken.

the astronomy tower had become your refuge again, a place to escape when thoughts of james threatened to overwhelm you. past midnight on a friday, you leaned against the stone parapet, staring at the stars and trying to quiet your mind.

the door creaked open behind you.

you didn't need to turn to know who it was. weeks of avoiding each other, and now here he was, drawn to the same place as you.

"i'll go," james said quietly.

"stay," you replied, surprising yourself. "if you want."

he approached cautiously, keeping a careful distance between you as he leaned against the parapet. for a long while, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with stars and shared history and things unsaid.

"i miss you," he finally said, the words startlingly honest in the darkness. "every fucking day, i miss you."

you closed your eyes, his voice washing over you like a physical touch. "i'm still angry," you admitted. "i understand why you did it, but i'm still so fucking angry, james."

"you have every right to be," he said. "i wouldn't expect anything else."

you turned to look at him then, really look at him. moonlight sculpted his features, throwing shadows beneath his cheekbones, glinting off his glasses. he looked beautiful and devastated and so familiar it hurt.

"i miss you too," you whispered, the confession torn from somewhere deep inside you. "and i hate that i miss you."

something shifted in his expression—hope warring with restraint. "where does that leave us?"

"i don't know," you said honestly. "i don't trust you anymore. but i can't stop wanting you either."

james inhaled sharply at your words. "y/n—"

"don't," you cut him off. "don't say anything. not yet."

you stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. close enough to see his pupils dilate, to hear his breath catch.

"i'm still so fucking mad at you," you whispered, your voice shaking. "i'm mad at you for lying. i'm mad at you for pushing me away. i'm mad at you for making me love you so much that even after everything, i still can't stop."

james remained perfectly still, as if afraid any movement might shatter this fragile moment between you.

"i need you to understand something," you continued, your voice low and intense. "if—and that's a big if—if we ever try again, it can't be like before. you don't get to decide what i can handle. you don't get to 'protect' me by lying. you talk to me, even when it's hard. especially when it's hard."

"i understand," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"do you?" you challenged, stepping even closer. "because i need to know that you get it, james. i need to know that you understand what you did to us."

"i do," he whispered. "i destroyed the best thing in my life because i was scared and stupid and thought i knew what was best for you."

"and you'll never do that again?" you demanded.

"never," he swore, his eyes never leaving yours. "i swear on my life, on everything i am."

you reached up, your hand hovering near his face without touching. "i want to believe you."

"then believe me," he said simply.

something broke inside you then—the last of your resistance crumbling beneath the weight of need and anger and love that had never truly died. you closed the distance between you, your mouth crashing against his with bruising force.

james froze for a heartbeat, then responded with equal desperation, his hands tangling in your hair as he backed you against the stone wall. the kiss was nothing like the tender exchanges you once shared—this was raw, hungry, almost violent in its intensity.

you bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, tasting copper on your tongue. "i'm still angry," you gasped against his mouth.

"i know," he groaned, lifting you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist. "be angry. i deserve it."

your nails dug into his shoulders through his shirt, marking him, claiming him even as you punished him. his hands gripped your thighs with bruising pressure, his body pressed against yours with a need that matched your own.

"this doesn't fix anything," you warned between kisses, your breath coming in harsh pants.

"i know," he repeated, his lips trailing fire down your neck. "nothing fixes it. nothing except time and truth and proving myself to you every day for as long as you'll let me."

you pulled back, forcing him to meet your eyes. "no more lies," you demanded. "ever."

"no more lies," he agreed, his gaze steady on yours. "i'm an open book to you. always."

for a long moment, you searched his face, looking for any hint of deception. finding none, you pulled him back to you, your kiss softer now but no less desperate.

"i still love you," you confessed against his mouth, the words both surrender and challenge. "god help me, i still fucking love you."

james pressed his forehead to yours, his breathing ragged. "i never stopped," he whispered. "not for a single moment."

you disentangled yourself from him, feet finding the floor again. standing face to face, both of you disheveled and breathing hard, reality began to seep back in.

"we can't just pick up where we left off," you said, straightening your clothes with trembling hands. "too much has happened."

"i know," james said, not reaching for you again though his eyes betrayed how much he wanted to. "i don't expect that."

"so what now?" you asked.

james ran a hand through his hair—that achingly familiar gesture that had once made you roll your eyes fondly. "now we take it one day at a time," he said. "we start over. slowly. on your terms."

you nodded, stepping back to create distance between you. your body still hummed with desire, your lips still tingling from his kiss. "i need to think," you said. "i need to be sure this is what i want."

disappointment flickered across his face, but he nodded. "whatever you need."

you moved toward the door, pausing with your hand on the handle. "james?"

"yes?"

"i'm not promising anything," you said. "but i'm not saying no either."

a ghost of a smile touched his lips. "that's more than i deserve."

"probably," you agreed, a reluctant smile of your own emerging. "i'll see you tomorrow."

as you descended the stairs from the astronomy tower, your body still ached with unresolved tension, your mind racing with conflicting emotions. nothing was resolved. nothing was fixed. but something had shifted—hope rising from the ashes of what you'd lost.

you were still angry. you still didn't fully trust him. but beneath it all was the undeniable truth that had never changed, even when you wished it would:

you loved james potter. despite everything, in spite of everything, because of everything—you loved him.

and maybe, just maybe, that was somewhere to start.

[daxisyzz]

⁺‧˚ ⋆ 𝐁𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥 | 𝒃𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒔 ⋆ ˚‧⁺

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 7: 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑨𝒄𝒄𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕-𝑲𝒊𝒔𝒔

Pairings: ceo!boss!bucky barnes × fem!reader

Contents: fake dating, chaotic relationship dynamic, workplace romance, contract relationship, one bed trope, almost kiss (in the title), coffee obsessed reader (I'm sorry for that one)

Summary: A business trip leaves you and Bucky sharing a hotel room. Between awkward moments, lingering stares, and a nearly-too-real almost-kiss, you realize—you might be in serious trouble.

Word count: 3.1k+

Series masterlist

Previous episode

Inspired by the kdrama "Business Proposal"

A/n: I used Google translate for one line in the story so please tell me if I need to correct it.

Previously on Business Proposal...

You nod, trying to tamp down the whirl of excitement. “I’ll review it tonight,” you promise, your tone professional—though every fiber of you knows you’ll be counting down the days.

He offers a half-smile, one corner of his mouth curving upward, before turning away to check a message on his phone.

For a moment, you watch the slow line of his back and feel the tension of unspoken possibilities humming in the space between you, a quiet promise that this trip will be more than just meetings and PowerPoints.

___________________●

You cross your arms in front of Bucky’s glass desk, eyeing him suspiciously as he types something into his laptop like he hasn’t just flipped your entire schedule upside down.

“So..why am i going with you to paris, again?” you ask, watching him carefully. “And not Steve?”

Bucky doesn’t look up. “Steve’s busy.”

You raise a brow. “With what?”

He pauses for a beat too long. “Things.”

You blink. “Things.”

“Yes. High-level things. Logistics. Finance. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. I’m a product manager. I know where every dollar and deadline is buried in this company.”

Bucky finally looks up at you, caught between a smirk and a wince. “Alright,” he sighs, leaning back. “I thought it’d be good for you to get face time with the Paris team. They’ve been testing the new features you pitched last quarter, and you’ve got the best read on the rollout.”

You narrow your eyes. “You could’ve said that five minutes ago instead of feeding me vague corporate gaslighting.”

He grins. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You shake your head. “Is this about that one time I said Paris is on my bucket list?”

“Maybe,” he says innocently, and then, “Also, Steve does sigh dramatically every time someone speaks French. I needed someone who wouldn’t offend a whole country.”

“Wow,” you mutter. “So glad I made the cut.”

“You’re the only one who keeps me on schedule and stops me from cursing in meetings,” he shrugs. “You’re basically indispensable.”

You try not to let your face do anything stupid. Like smile.

The first class check-in at the airport is the first real clue that this trip might be unlike any you’ve taken before. Bucky hands over both your passports with the ease of someone used to getting what he wants, and the lounge is nicer than your entire apartment.

You try not to look too awed, but he catches you watching the coffee station with reverence.

He leans in. “Told you you’d like it here.”

“I didn’t know we were flying like this,” you murmur, accepting a cappuccino that tastes like a Parisian cloud.

“Perks of traveling with the boss,” he says. “You get coffee that doesn’t taste like burnt charcoal.”

On the plane, you settle into fully reclining seats with enough legroom to do yoga. The flight attendant offers champagne before takeoff. You glance at Bucky, who’s already half-lounging, sleeves rolled up, tie slightly loosened like he’s just stepped out of a catalog for powerful men who don’t believe in coach.

“I didn’t peg you for a coffee guy,” you say, nodding to the espresso in his hand.He lifts the cup slightly. “Trying to keep up with you.”

You narrow your eyes, amused. “That sounds dangerously close to flattery.”

He grins. “Just stating facts.”

The meetings are sleek and formal, the kind that stretch for hours and leave your face sore from strategic smiling. You’re sharp, articulate, and calm under pressure, as always. And Bucky—he’s every bit the CEO. Charming when he wants to be, ruthless when he needs to be, and infuriatingly hot in tailored grey suits.

But then there are moments. Subtle ones.

Like when he slides a bottle of water toward you during a long pitch. When his hand brushes yours as he hands you a pen. When he leans in to whisper something snarky about an overtalking investor and you have to bite your lip to stop laughing.

Then, during a presentation, one of the French investors compliments the UI mockups. Bucky turns to them, switches languages without missing a beat, and says something that makes the whole room nod and smile in agreement.You sit up straighter. “What was that?”

Bucky looks at you for a long, steady moment.

His voice is lower, smoother when he replies—still in French. “Elle est brillante. Chaque idée que vous avez aimée vient d'elle.”

You blink. “...Was that about me?”

He just smiles, that quiet, reverent kind—the kind that makes your pulse trip.

And even though you don’t know what he said, the way he’s looking at you—like you hung the moon and then had the audacity to act like it was just a coincidence—tells you everything you need to know.

That night, after dinner with the Paris team, you expect to collapse into your hotel room and call it a night. You do not expect Bucky to say, “Let’s walk.”

And somehow, you find yourself strolling down cobblestone streets with him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He’s animated in a way you haven’t seen—excited, almost boyish, pointing out cafes he’s been to, bookstores you’d love, places he visited with Steve on their first trip here. At one point, he makes you stop at a street vendor and buys you a still-warm crepe with powdered sugar and lemon.

“I didn’t think you were a romantic,” you say, licking sugar off your thumb.

He shrugs. “I’m not.”

You shoot him a look.

“I just remember things you say,” he adds softly. “Especially when they make you light up like that.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, so you keep walking.

Paris feels too beautiful to be real. Or maybe it’s the way Bucky keeps looking at you like you’re the view.

When you finally reach the hotel lobby, pleasantly exhausted and sun-warm, the receptionist hands over your key with a tight smile.

“One deluxe suite, under Mr. Barnes.”

You blink. “Sorry—one?”

Bucky frowns. “There should be two.”

“I’m afraid not,” the receptionist says, typing rapidly. “It appears Mr. Rogers only reserved one room.”

You both turn to each other in slow, dawning horror.

“I’m going to kill him,” Bucky mutters.

“There’s nothing else?” you ask. “Even two separate singles?”

She shakes her head. “We’re fully booked. A conference in the area. I’m very sorry.”

It’s nearly midnight. You're tired, still buzzed on sugar and moonlight. Bucky runs a hand down his face.

“Guess we’re sharing,” he says finally.

You stare. “There’s one bed.”

He raises a brow. “You’re acting like I snore.”

“You do snore.”

“You’ve never heard me snore.”

“Don’t need to. It’s the vibe.”

He grins. “You’ll live.”

You follow him upstairs, trying to ignore the heat rising in your chest. The room is beautiful, of course—Parisian elegance with velvet chairs and a king-sized bed that suddenly feels like a trap.

You set your bag down, turning away before he sees your expression.

“Let’s just pretend this is normal,” you mumble.

“It is normal,” he says easily, slipping off his jacket. “Unless you’re worried you won’t be able to keep your hands to yourself.”

You laugh. “Please. I’ll be asleep in five minutes.”

But when you’re lying in bed later, back-to-back, both pretending to breathe steadily, the air feels too heavy, too charged.

And it hits you—You might be in serious trouble.

The first thing you register is warmth. Steady and unfamiliar.

Then the slow rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek.

You freeze.

Your hand is resting on Bucky’s stomach. His arm is draped around you, one leg tangled with yours under the blanket. He’s asleep, breath soft against your hair, the line of his jaw relaxed.

You tense.

Your eyes snap open at the same time he stirs, blinking awake. For a moment, neither of you moves.

Then chaos.

You scramble backward. Bucky jerks upright. Limbs tangle. A knee hits the edge of the bed. A muttered curse.

“You—were holding me,” you accuse, half-breathless.

He rubs a hand over his face. “You rolled over.”

You gape at him. “I did not.”

“You definitely did,” he mutters, squinting at the clock. “And it’s way too early for this.”

You throw the covers off and flee to the bathroom. By the time you emerge, the awkward tension has calcified into silence. You both dress quickly and head to the hotel’s breakfast buffet without a word.

The coffee helps. Slightly. So does the fact that you both agree, silently, not to talk about it.

Paris is quieter in the morning. The streets are still waking up when you step outside, the air brisk, the sky pale and clear. You expect him to suggest waiting at the hotel until it’s time to leave for the airport.

Instead, Bucky adjusts his coat and turns to you. “We’ve got a few hours.”

You glance at him. “And?”

He tilts his head toward the street. “I’m not letting you leave without seeing more of the city.”

You hesitate—but then you follow.

He walks ahead at first, hands in his pockets, scanning the streets with ease. You trail beside him, the night’s weirdness still sitting heavy in your chest. But as he points out spots, museums, side streets, he starts to ease back into himself. And you forget, for a while, about the bed, the morning, the tangle of limbs and everything unspoken.

You pass a quiet garden where he insists Monet used to sketch. He tells you about the bookstore on the Left Bank where he once got trapped in the rain. At one point, he stops to buy coffee for both of you from a stand that’s barely open, murmuring something to the vendor in French that makes her laugh.

You sip your coffee. “So how much French do you speak?”

He shrugs. “Enough to get through meetings. And order croissants.”

Later, as you stroll along the Seine, the golden hour draped over the rooftops and water, Bucky slows beside you, taking in the city like it’s something he’s seen a hundred times and still isn’t tired of. You sip your coffee—your third of the day—and try not to smile too much at how genuinely into this he seems.

“This bridge,” he says, pointing up ahead, “was originally wooden. Burned down in the 1800s. They rebuilt it with stone, and it’s still here. Whole damn thing survived two world wars.”

You glance at him. “Do you part-time as a Paris tour guide?”

He huffs a laugh. “I read the brochure on the plane. And maybe a little more.”

You nudge his arm with your elbow. “You’re such a nerd.”

He smirks. “Takes one to know one, sweetheart.”

There’s an ease to it—your rhythm, the back-and-forth. But it’s more than just banter now. It’s the way his gaze lingers a little longer when you look at him. The way your hands brush sometimes when you walk too close on the narrow cobblestone streets and neither of you moves away.

He buys you a macaron from a small pâtisserie, insists it’s a “cultural experience.” You make him try your coffee despite his protests. He doesn't stop smiling.

By the time the car pulls up to take you to the airport, the sky is turning hues of orange. But Bucky pauses, one hand on the door.

“Wait.”

You frown. “What?”

He checks his watch, then nods toward the street. “We’ve got time for one more stop.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already started walking.

You follow him through a few narrow alleys, then around a corner—and there it is.

The Eiffel Tower.

The Eiffel Tower stands tall in the distance, its lights flickering like tiny stars in the Parisian night. The soft hum of the crowd, the delicate scent of fresh croissants in the air, and the warm glow of the monument’s golden light envelops you both in a dreamlike stillness. The city is alive with energy, yet in this moment, everything else seems to fade away as the two of you linger near the edge of the plaza.

You can’t help but stop and take it all in, your heart swelling at the sight of the iconic landmark that somehow feels more magical than you imagined.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmur, your voice almost lost to the wind.

Bucky doesn’t answer at first, his focus shifting from the Tower to you—eyes softer now, lingering longer than usual. There’s an intensity in his gaze that’s hard to ignore, like he’s seeing you for the first time in a way that makes your breath catch.

You glance up at him, noticing the way his jaw tightens, his lips parting ever so slightly as if he’s about to speak but stops himself. For a split second, you wonder if he’s going to say something profound, something that could shatter this careful distance between you.But instead, he looks away. The mask of his calm, collected demeanor slips back into place.

“Yeah, it is. Pretty amazing.”

You try not to let the disappointment show. It’s as if the air between you suddenly thickened with something heavier than the crisp night.You clear your throat, deciding to move the conversation forward.

“I always imagined coming here with… someone special.”

The words are out before you can stop them, and the moment they leave your mouth, you want to take them back. Why did you say that? You shift nervously on your feet, unsure of how he’ll react, but the warmth in his expression doesn’t flicker. Instead, he seems to consider your words, his eyes scanning you slowly, almost like he's trying to figure something out.

“Well, I’m glad it’s now, then,” he says, his tone lighter but still thick with something unspoken.

You don’t know why, but his words feel like more than just a casual statement. You look up at him again, his face mere inches from yours, his expression unreadable but full of quiet intensity. Something shifts in your chest, a spark of realization flickering deep within you.

He stands too close now—closer than you expected. Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body despite the chill of the evening air. Your heart begins to race.

“Bucky…” The word barely leaves your lips, a whisper you can’t quite control. But even before you finish, he takes a step forward, just enough to close the remaining gap.He looks at you, eyes intense, searching. It’s like there’s something there that neither of you is willing to admit yet, something pulling at both of you.

“You know,” he says, voice low, “I think I’ve been doing a lot of things I didn’t plan on today. Bringing you here. Saying half the stuff I’ve said.”

His words seem to hang in the air, making it harder to breathe.

“I’m not exactly sure what this is,” he adds, his smile tight, almost apologetic, but with a hint of something else. “But this—this feels right. You feel right.”

Your throat tightens, and before you can stop it, your mouth opens, your voice a little breathless.

“Bucky, we can’t—”

“You don’t have to say anything.” His voice cuts through yours, softer but firm. He steps even closer, his body so close now you can feel his warmth wrapping around you. His eyes drop to your lips, and it’s like the entire world goes silent. The sound of the city, the laughter, the cheering from nearby—it all fades into nothing.

“Just don’t run from it.” His voice is barely a whisper, but it holds everything—raw and unguarded, a plea in the form of a suggestion. His breath is warm against your cheek now, his hand twitching like he’s going to reach out, but he doesn’t.

You could step back, turn around, walk away. You could pretend like this isn’t happening, like it’s just another moment in Paris, another brief stop on a business trip.

But you don’t.

Instead, you stand there, heart racing, as he leans in just a fraction more. His lips are so close, you can feel the heat of them brushing against your skin. Your chest tightens, every part of you screaming to close that gap, to give in to the pull between you that’s been building all night.

And then—A loud cheer erupts from the crowd. A group of tourists celebrates a proposal nearby, clapping and shouting in excitement. The sound is jarring, pulling you both back to reality in an instant.

You flinch at the noise, and before you can register it, Bucky pulls away, stepping back with a forced chuckle. He runs a hand over his face, looking anywhere but at you. “Well, that was... something.”

You’re left standing there, breathless, trying to collect yourself, trying to understand what just happened. The distance between you is so palpable now, it hurts.

You swallow, gathering your thoughts, and glance back at him. “We'll miss our flight,” you say, though your voice feels distant, even to you.

“Yeah,” he replies, his voice quieter now, a little rougher. “Let’s go.”

Neither of you says anything as you begin walking toward the exit, the moment still hanging in the air between you, unspoken and unresolved.

You try to keep your breathing steady, but it’s impossible. The tension lingers, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. The city around you is still beautiful, still alive with energy—but in this moment, the only thing that feels real is the space between you and Bucky.

And how much you wish it wasn’t there.

The flight to Frankfurt that night is quiet.

You sit beside Bucky in first class again, but the usual banter is missing. There are no casual nudges or shared glances, no whispered jokes over overpriced coffee. Instead, there’s only the low hum of the plane and the unspoken weight of what almost happened in Paris.

He reads through a stack of reports. You scroll absently through your tablet. Neither of you acknowledges the shift, but it hangs there—thick, silent, heavy.

The meetings in Frankfurt are efficient, professional. You present your product roadmap with your usual ease, and he lets you take the lead. There’s a moment—brief—when your hand brushes his as he passes you a document, and you both freeze for a second too long. But no one else notices, and nothing is said.

You move through the day like nothing’s changed. Because technically, nothing has. But it feels like everything has.

That night, you eat dinner in the hotel lounge with the rest of the team. He sits across from you, and you share polite smiles, but his eyes never linger like they did in Paris. It’s safer this way. Cleaner. You both know it.

By the time you board the flight back home, exhaustion has settled into your bones. You lean your head against the window, eyes closed as the engines roar to life.

Bucky says nothing, but when you peek through half-lidded eyes, you find him watching you.

You don't speak.

You just let the silence fill the space between you.

By the time the plane touches down, you’ve both tucked the moment away—filed it under the category of things that almost happened.

And maybe that’s where it’s safest to leave it.

For now.

Taglist: @calwitch, @scott-loki-barnes, @baw1066, @awesompawsum, @bucky-baby-barnes, @marianastudiesart, @pattiemac1, @maryevm, @borkybawnes, @mcira, @otterlycanadian, @mrsnikstan, @sebastians-love, @homiesexual-or-homosexual, @winchestert101, @julesandgems, @purplefluffycows, @brckenmemories

[firstelevens]

in light of the thunderbolts pcs, angry kisses for sambucky pls

My brain is apparently so DnD-pilled that I stared at this for ten minutes trying to figure out what a thunderbolts player character was supposed to be before realizing you probably meant "post-credits scene." I have not in fact seen the film, but I have long since made peace with ignoring the proverbial Council's stupid-ass decisions and I will continue to do so. Here's a sequel to this fic, sorry if you were hoping for something more tied to canon!

56. angry kisses

The thing about Sam's relentless goddamn professionalism is that he has to find ways of clinging to it even when it's the very last thing that he wants to do. He's exceptionally good at it by now, years of facing off against scheming politicians and soliloquizing villains honing a skill that he'd already cultivated as a teenager. It's seamless enough that most people don't even realize when it's happening.

Maybe that's what makes it so fucking infuriating when he watches Bucky cross the room to have a few quiet words with Joaquín, who stands up a minute later and says something about having some food while everyone waits to debrief with the authorities. Like magic, the rest of Team Cap and all but one of the stupidly-named Thunderbolts file out to take the elevator to the Compound's kitchen.

Sam waits for the distant ding of the elevator to sound before he turns to Bucky, struggling to keep his voice even. "You giving orders to my team now?"

Bucky scoffs. "Please. Torres would never listen to an order from me."

"Yeah, the way I hear it, there's a lot of that going around these days."

"Is there?" asks Bucky, in the blank voice that he only ever uses when he's trying to provoke Sam. In a few strides, he crosses the room to stand in front of Sam, close but not quite in his space. "Seems to me like it's just you."

"I've never taken orders from you," snaps Sam. "And I'm not about to start."

"No one's telling you to," says Bucky. "But it used to be that when we were in the field together, you'd at least listen to what I had to say."

Sam crosses his arms, scowling. He can feel those threads of professionalism slipping away, and he tries his best to snatch at them. "If you want to start a conversation about who was listening to who, we can do that, but I don't think you're gonna like where it ends up, so maybe we should stop right here."

"Don't try to make this about me not sticking to protocol when we're talking about you putting your life on the line," Bucky says. "And Christ, stop using your press conference voice on me. If you're angry, just be angry."

He clenches his jaw because he can't clench his fist, keeps his tone as measured as he can. "You know I don't do that."

"You don't do that in front of strangers," snaps Bucky. "Whatever we are or aren't to each other anymore, I know for damn sure we aren't strangers."

"What do you want me to say, Buck?" Sam asks quietly. "You want me to tell you how tired I am? How much I dreaded coming here and having to work with a team that was built to spite me? How much bullshit gets thrown my way every day, how much easier that would be to handle if I still had a partner at my side?"

"I want you to say what you actually want to say," says Bucky, and there's something pleading in his face. "Whatever it is that you want to say. Be tired, be worried, be furious at me. Just don't be...that. That persona that you had to build just so you could get a foot in the fucking door. Not in front of me."

There was a time when Sam didn't have to be that, not with Bucky. There was a time when he could be that version of himself with the rest of the world and then come home, tuck his face against Bucky's chest and let himself be held as he raged at the whole rest of the world. Even now, Sam's hands itch to reach out to him, to pull him close so Sam can rest his aching head in the crook of Bucky's neck.

Sam keeps his voice even and pretends he doesn't see the hurt in Bucky's face, focusing his gaze on the windows behind him. "You tried to die today," he says, and feels the anger spike in his chest even as he says the words. "You told me to trust you and then you tried to put yourself in the path of something that would have killed you."

"It would have killed you," corrects Bucky, and Sam is torn between wanting to cry and wanting to punch him in the face. "It might have killed me. I was better equipped to handle it."

"It wasn't your call to make," Sam says, instead of don't you know that that would've killed me, too? "I had a plan. I always do."

"And that plan was what? You dying instead of me?"

"That plan was to make things safe for everyone else."

Bucky steps into Sam's space, his chest brushing against Sam's crossed arms. Sam tries not to notice that, either. "And you really think that a safer world exists without you in it? You really believe that any good would come of that?"

"Nobody makes sacrifices because they're easy, Bucky," Sam bites out. "People make them because it's the only way."

"Good," says Bucky. "Then you understand why I did what I did."

"I'll never understand anything you do, Barnes. I'll never understand why you're here, and I'll never understand why you work for the people you work for, and I'll never understand why you-" Sam cuts himself off, trying to calm his breathing. "Never mind."

"No, say it," says Bucky, right up in Sam's face now. "Say whatever it is. I'm tired of Customer Service Cap. Say what you need to say."

Sam sets his jaw. "Why? What do you need to hear so bad, huh? What's gonna change if I say it to you?"

"Hell if I know," says Bucky, "but whatever changes, it can't make things worse than they are right now, can it? You won't even fucking look at me, Sam."

"What do you need me to look at you for, huh? You have a whole team for that now, right? News cameras, too?"

"I have a team now because you sent me away, Sam. You ended things and you all but kicked me off the team. What was I supposed to do, fuck back off to the forties like Steve?"

"You were supposed to be safe," roars Sam, before he can think better of it, and the rest comes spilling out like water behind a broken dam. "They wanted to use you for wetwork and infiltration. They made a whole entire proposal about it. The Joint Chiefs approved it and everything. It was going to be a condition of you staying on the team, of them upholding the terms of your pardon."

Bucky's eyebrows knit together. "Sam..."

"They wanted to use you, and I sent you away to stop them, and you just ended up working for them anyway," says Sam, softer, and he can feel his face flushing, can feel the tears gathering behind his eyes. "So now you're gone and you're not safe."

Their time apart hasn't changed how clearly Sam can read Bucky's face, and he sees a flurry of emotions pass over him before his jaw takes on a determined set. "That wasn't your call to make," growls Bucky.

Before Sam can argue it, Bucky's hands come up to hold his face, palms against Sam's jaw while his thumbs wipe away the tears that Sam hadn't noticed escaping.

Half a second later, Bucky's lips are on his, bruising and desperate, and Sam can't help but reciprocate, uncrossing his arms so he can clutch Bucky closer, backing up until they ram into a wall, picture frames rattling precariously from the impact. He fists one hand in Bucky's shirt to keep him from going too far and slips the other underneath, trailing up his stomach until it reaches the center of his chest. Bucky's heartbeat thuds away under Sam's palm, familiar if a little faster than usual, and Sam feels the universe right itself where it had been knocked off of its axis.

He doesn't know what tomorrow looks like, or even three minutes from now, but he knows that he has Bucky in his arms again, both their hearts beating steady in their chests, and that's as good a place as any to start.

[the-pessimist-and-his-cat]

Alright. Thoughts on this stupid vroom vroom alpha bl show that will consume my mind for nearly three months! (I haven't read the books, but apparently Charlie gets memory loss?)

Kim.... you are the real winner. I always love it when people speak their minds instead of letting it fester (I hope he stays that way).

Babe... really? Starting with you being grumpy and a sex scene! Classic Babe behavior, but I don't fault him. After all, being a hot dude with an appetite, do be like that sometimes :)

Willy.... he's gonna be an A-hole but seeing Babe and Willy's first interaction being all hostile, it's gonna go one of the two ways: [I] Babe is going to use Willy to rile Charlie up (he wants Charlie to be the one who defeats Willy or he wants angry sex). [II] he wants to know Willy's motive and finds him suspicious or wants to find his weakness, so he acts like a 'Playboy' <but of course, none of these will go well because I'll explain in the end>

North and Sonic..... sorry for those of you who ship these two, but I never understood their dynamic, and they aren't interesting to me, but if the show does expand on their characters by going beyond "forever BFFs who secretly like each other". then you got my interest.

Chris.... now do I like to see actors coming back to the show as another character.... nope. My reasoning? Do it, but at least have the doppelganger/twin sibling/clone to be shocked! If I were Chris (even if I knew who Way was and I was a secret spy), I would totally lose my goddamn mind! Someone who looks like me?! What are the chances! But I do hope he doesn't break Pete's heart.

Pete..... since when you snatched the DILF title from Alan? But I hope you don't give your heart too easily to Chris and maybe check his background throughly??? Because what are the goddamn chances!

Alan.... I have no words other than look out for your boyfriend, and please be respectful when Kim snatches victory from Babe. That boy acted professional, so should you. (Also, you look good as always and when you and Jeff are gonna have kids i-)

Jeff.... why did they name you that? From the first season till now... whenever I hear your name, I hear that meme, "My name is Jeff," but alas, nothing can be done about it. Now, will this season toy with Jeff's life because the visions take a toll on him? (And maybe the skill-erasing machine will be his salvation? We gonna find out!)

Dean.... did you die? But I swear that in one of the trailers, you and Winner and Kenta were in a van soooo maybe a bullet to the leg or a graze?

Tony.... an A-hole with multiple watch lists to be on, but that hair is still serving and I can't hate that face. I think in the episode 2 preview, he said that he has a spy, so it's either Chris, Willy, or the new mechanic.

Charlie.... the biggest red flag of all the characters... just because that boy is bound to do something stupid and have Babe go on a depression cycle again. Oh, I know what he's gonna do. When he sees Babe with Willy, he's gonna be like "I'll bring back his senses so that Babe wins and we'll be done with Willy", and he goes to the machine, which is STILL experimental and uses it and voila! Memory loss, BUT if the show does do that and then show Charlie being all hot bad boy with side-pieces all over him, then I'll forgive him. He has the potential to be a bad boy, and I WANT to see it. :)

Well, I hope we see Babe's father again.

Manifesting Jeff's pregnancy right this fucking now. Maybe because the visions take a toll on him, he uses the machine, and it backfires and turns him into Omega...... oh my god.... what if there is no omega in this world, and Pete's research has invented a machine that not only turn off Alpha's powers but also turns them into Omega?! A new subtype?!?!? I'm cooking, folks!

7/10 for Ep 1.

Edit: I forgot to mention that I liked it when they introduced Chris in the 1st episode rather than tiptoeing around it.