#so Charles literally just handed over the keys for him to show the car to his dad and then take it for a spin

[alexturntable]

tfjj @/CarlosSainz55 steals @/Charles_Leclerc Ferrari Daytona SP3 in Monaco 😂🇲🇨

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 9)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc reader part 9 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

attention was a funny thing. for so long, you were under the impression that you had lando's. with the way he treated you, the way he worked up your driver ranking, the way he made his intentions clear. but now you had to fight for it and lets just say you've never been afraid of getting your hands a little dirty

word count: 4k tags: this is soft and then its not is all i have to say, also alcohol consumption i guess

The universe was never on your side.

Lando stayed with you at your place for only a little while before he had to return to his flat. Just because he had a bit of time off between races, didn’t mean he could stop working. He had Quadrant obligations, training, meetings, he even had to make a quick trip back to the UK on Thursday as he was needed at the McLaren Technology Centre.

It was no fault of his own, but he had no time for you. You genuinely didn’t think you would see him until the weekend, and even then you had your own commitments and still hadn’t decided if you wanted Lando to accompany you to dinner. 

Of course you wanted him there, but you still hadn’t spoken to Charles. You knew if you showed up to your mother’s place with Lando at your side, a heated conversation would undoubtedly commence.

You wanted Lando’s opinion. You weren’t even sure if he would want to come to dinner. The plan was to sit down and talk to him about it, but you hadn’t had a chance to all week.

Now it was Friday and as far as you were aware, Lando was supposed to be coming home sometime today. You expected he would at least give you a call when he was in the car from Nice. 

You didn’t expect to return from your jog in the afternoon and see Lando in your kitchen helping himself to the groceries you purchased yesterday. He turned over his shoulder when he heard the door open, cheeks full with whatever sandwich he had just made for himself.

He looked good. The sleeves of his t-shirt tightened around his biceps. His curls weren’t as prominent, he must have gotten a bit of a trim in the UK, but you still wanted to run your fingers through his hair. The summer sun was doing wonders for his skin, he probably had a darker tan than you did and god he was literally glowing. 

He approached you slowly, gaze raking over every inch of your body. Monaco was hot, you had to dress appropriately for your run. And you doubted Lando was complaining about the sports bra and matching athletic tights you had on. 

“I regret telling you my key code,” you told him. Lando only stifled his laughter in response as he finished chewing. He held out the end of his sandwich to you, offering you a bite. And you were starving after that run, so you happily obliged. 

“You don’t have mustard in your fridge,” he pointed out.

You held your mouth in front of your hand as you swallowed, “I don’t like mustard.”

“But I do,” he took another bite.

“Well next time I go grocery shopping I’ll be sure to ask for your list, yeah? Any dietary restrictions I should know about? Is the almond milk in my fridge not up to your standards?” You raised your eyebrows, but it was clear your questions were full of sarcasm and Lando didn’t have anything else to add as he slowly finished chewing.

You patted his chest and started to pivot, planning on taking a shower and changing but Lando grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you back towards him. He kissed you, not letting your teasing stop him from greeting you the way he wanted to.

“Hi,” he said quietly as he pulled away just enough so his lips were still hovering over yours.

“Hi,” you repeated, hating how quick he was able to make you smile. There was no point in trying to hide it either, it would only make your cheeks hurt more. “Is it bad that I’ve missed you?”

“I don’t think so because I’ve missed you too,” he kissed you again. 

He had just been busy. He hadn’t been able to make the time to see you or take you out, and you couldn’t blame him for that. Sure it was a little frustrating knowing he was in Monte Carlo for most of this week and you couldn’t do anything about it, but at least he was with you now. 

You may have never been in a relationship before, but you knew exactly what this was. It was the honeymoon phase. You wanted to spend as much time with him as humanly possible and him having a job that kept him occupied and travelling was a little bit of an inconvenience for you. 

Lando offered to make you some lunch while you got ready for the rest of the day and you had to admit, it was kind of nice having someone around who wanted to take care of you. 

When you finished your shower and stepped into the hall, Lando was in the kitchen and singing quietly to himself whatever song was playing from his phone. You watched for a second as he opened up a few cupboards until he found the plates he was searching for.

After you had changed and and rang a towel through your hair, you joined Lando in the living room. There was a plate on the coffee table with a sandwich and a variety of fruit on it and you wanted to thank him, but he was on a phone call.

So even though he was here with you, he wasn’t actually present.

Regardless, you weren’t going to let it bother you. You tuned him out for the most part, responding to a couple friends you had been neglecting to text back. It wasn’t until he somewhat mentioned you in his conversation that your interest piqued.

“...at my girl's place,” but you looked at each other at the exact same time, wearing very similar expressions of uncertainty. Lando even sounded unsure as he said it, like he wasn’t confident that was the right thing to call you.

Your confusion turned to amusement as whoever Lando was talking to presumably asked about you and he struggled to explain what you were to him exactly. 

“Yeah she’s-” Lando paused, feeling the weight of your stare. “It’s uh, it’s pretty new.”

That wasn’t technically wrong. 

“No, she’s cool, you’ll like her,” Lando assured them. Now you were really wondering who he was talking to. Lando dropped his hand to your leg. “But I gotta go, I’ll talk to you in a bit, yeah?”

You waited until he put the phone down to question him, the smirk on your face was making your jaw hurt and he preemptively rolled his eyes in anticipation for whatever you were going to say.

“Your girl?” You exclaimed, reaching forward to playfully press your hand against his cheek. “Am I your girl, Lando Norris?”

Lando opened his mouth and then shut it again, settling on a heavy exhale as he took your hand in his. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and gave you the sweetest look he could muster.

“That’s a trick question so I’m not going to answer it.”

You snorted, “Please elaborate.”

He sighed again, “If I say, yes, you’re my girl, you’ll be upset because I haven’t actually asked you to my girlfriend yet, which-” he held up a finger, “-is a bit of a childish term, might I add. We’re not twelve, Y/N.”

You held up a hand in defence, feeling a little attacked, “I didn’t say anything.”

He continued, “But if I say no, then you’ll still be upset because you know that you are in fact my girl.”

You hummed in response. You could understand how he saw it as a trick question, even if you hadn’t intended it as such. Maybe he was smarter than you gave him credit for.

“It’s a lose-lose,” he added. “For me, at least.”

“There’s a simple solution.”

“Which is?”

Your eyebrows raised, surprised you even had to spell it out. “Ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“Will you-”

“No!” You interjected. Lando flinched, having not expected you to raise your voice all of a sudden. But this is what he was talking about, this was the lose-lose scenario he now found himself in. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted, a shy smile teased his lips. It was cute. He was cute. But he should have known better.

“Lando, I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you reminded him quietly. There was nothing embarrassing about that statement, but what you were asking for was, in a sense, childish. “I don’t care that we’re adults, I want to be asked out properly. A whole grand gesture.” You waved your hand in front of your face for emphasis, “Sweep me off my feet or something, I don’t know. Don’t just ask me out, put a little effort into it.”

Lando’s grip slid up your arm to be able to pull you onto his lap. Your legs straddled either side of him as his fingers found your waist. He leaned his head against the back of the couch as he looked up at you, the same timid smile on his lips.

He nodded, “Okay, effort. I can do that.”

“Nothing embarrassing.”

“Aren’t grand gestures usually embarrassing?” He retorted.

“I have faith you’ll figure something out that saves us both from humiliation.”

You leaned down to kiss him and it had finally sunk in that you could do this without any cause for concern now. Granted, you still had to be cautious out in public and there was still the looming issue of your brother, but right now, in the comfort of your own flat, you could kiss him and not have to worry about any repercussions. 

The only thing you had to worry about was his phone going off again. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groaned, dropping your head to his shoulder as he reached for his phone that you thought he had finally put away for the day. Lando rubbed your back as he checked out who had texted him. 

It was his manager, someone he couldn’t just ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You both looked at the message and you grew even more annoyed when you saw he was asking for Lando to meet him at his place. 

“Selfishly, can you just stay here?” You asked, hoping that batting your eyelashes would do the trick.

“I want to, you know I do,” Lando muttered, sending a quick response to his manager telling him he’ll head over. He then put his phone down and pulled your face towards his. He really did seem disappointed that he had to leave again. His thumb grazed over your cheek, “Let’s go out tonight, yeah?”

You hummed, “What did you have in mind?”

You could see the gears grinding in his head. “There’s a handful of drivers in Monaco right now. A few of them had mentioned going to Sinistre. Could be fun?”

You had been to Sinistre a handful of times. It was definitely one of the places to be in Monaco on a Friday night. It was exclusive too, it wasn’t easy for just anyone to wander in. Plus it would be a good opportunity to be out in public with Lando without it too obviously being a date. 

If you could keep his attention, that was. 

Lando was still responding to texts as he got up to leave. He slid his phone into his pocket as he kissed you goodbye, squeezing your hand too, a gesture you were starting to get very used to from him. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he told you. “And then I promise, this weekend I’m all yours.”

You still hadn’t brought up the idea of inviting him to dinner. And now was clearly not the time to as he was on his way out the door. So you just nodded and kissed him once more. You didn’t want to worry about tomorrow night’s dinner just yet, you just wanted to focus on tonight.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 30,127 others

ynleclerc amour sans fin

view all 2,241 comments

danielricciardo we get it, you're french

ynleclerc im monégasque you kiwi shit danielricciardo im austrailain ynleclerc ohhh hurts when someone gets your nationality wrong huh?

carlossainz55 bella

ynleclerc ❤️

landonorris can you even walk in those

ynleclerc no but im taller than you in them so

paddockswags so all the boys on the grid love her huh

Lando grabbed your hand when you exited your flat, keeping you from walking towards the car. Your brows cinched in confusion when you noticed him eyeing the top of your head and then down at your heels.

“You’re not taller than me,” he scoffed. “We’re the same height.”

You tilted your chin up, “No I think I’m taller.”

Lando rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle of the car door. You weren’t wearing the blazer anymore, you had stolen that from one of his suitcases he had left at your place for the sole purpose of the photo. When you posted it, he was still out, but he made sure to text you, telling you that you could wear his clothes any day.

When he climbed into the backseat as well, you noticed he still had Instagram open and was looking at your photo, more specifically, the comments.

“I think he has your notifications on.”

You pushed your hair over your shoulder and leaned towards him, trying to see what had caught his attention, “Who?”

“Carlos.”

You snickered, “Why do you think that?”

“He’s always one of the first people to comment on your pictures,” Lando’s eyes met yours and you wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to worry about Carlos. That Carlos and you were only ever friends and that Instagram notifications on your phone screen didn’t mean anything.

You would have, had his phone not started ringing. 

You inhaled a sharp breath and Lando laughed at your reaction to his phone pulling his attention away once again. 

“I’m about to throw that thing out the window.”

Lando let it go to voicemail. He gently placed his hand on the side of your face and pulled your lips to his. 

“It’s officially my weekend now, I promise.”

“If I hear your phone ring one more time-”

Lando chuckled again, “You won’t, don’t worry. I’m all yours.”

And you believed him because his hand stayed on your leg for the duration of the car ride from your flat to the club. You believed him because he tried to shelter you from nearby paparazzi and fans that were waiting outside of Sinistre, hoping to catch a shot or two of any drivers. You believed him because he didn’t let go of your hand once you stepped inside.

But because he was holding onto your hand, he was able to pull you in the direction of his teammate who was standing near the bartop, chatting away with some friends. As far as you were aware, Oscar didn’t even live in Monaco so you had no idea what he was doing here.

Oscar eyed the way your hands connected between your bodies, a smile growing on his face.

“Why hello lovebirds,” Oscar teased. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

And then Lando became lost in a conversation with Oscar. As if he hadn’t just promised you that he was all yours. 

To be fair, Lando was a social guy. He could find any opportunity to chat with literally anyone and it was a trait of his you admired. 

But you were selfish tonight. You didn’t want to share him. You had to share him all week, you had barely seen him all week. 

You scanned the club, wondering if there was anyone else here that Lando might want to talk to after Oscar and you wanted to scream when your eyes landed on Carlos sitting at a nearby bench, talking to his own friends.

There was no way Lando was going to pass up an opportunity to chat with one of his best mates.

You glanced at him and then back at Carlos, and then an idea came to mind. 

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, unsure if Lando even heard you as your hand slipped from his. 

You made your way across the club, not oblivious to the way a few heads turned as you balanced yourself in those heels. But you didn’t want the attention of strangers, you only wanted Lando’s attention.

You approached the Spanish driver, “Carlos, I need you to do me a favour.”

He turned his head and glanced up at you from where he sat on the cushioned bench, “Anything, hermosa. What did you need?”

You turned over your shoulder to make sure Lando was still chatting away to Oscar by the bar.

Lando didn’t explicitly say it, but you knew your driver ranking was still heavy on his mind. And with the lack of attention you had been getting, you felt as though it was time to challenge Lando at his own game. 

“I need you to not leave my side.”

Carlos raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

He was already a few drinks in. Which might honestly make it easier. Everyone was flirty when they were drunk.

“I don’t know, just-” you looked over your shoulder again, Lando glanced your way and smiled before falling back into his conversation  “-pretend you’re into me. Pretend I’m someone you want to take home. Pretend Charles wouldn’t kill you if you tried to hit on me.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, “Just have fun with it and make sure Lando sees.”

“Why?” Carlos asked. “Aren’t you here with him?”

“Yeah but he’s had it too easy recently,” you said through a faint breath of laughter. “Come on, Carlos, help me out here.”

And then it clicked for him. It was like you could see all the gears shifting into place and he hummed in response. “I get it. This is about your driver ranking, isn’t it?”

“That’s exactly it,” a devious grin spread across your face from cheek to cheek. You made sure you had Carlos’ full attention as you pressed both of your palms on either side of his face. “So unless you want him to beat you, don’t leave my side.”

Carlos didn’t need any more of a reason to grab your hand and pull you sideways onto his lap, a squeal passing through your lips as you didn’t think he would act so suddenly. You snaked your arm around his shoulders as his fingers instantly found a home on your leg, spread out across your thigh. 

Your faces were inches apart, you could smell the tequila shots he had undoubtedly taken as soon as he got here. The corner of his lip was tugged upwards as his eyes landed on the curve of your smile before darting back up to meet your gaze. The strobing pink and blue lights all around you only highlighted the glossed over expression he wore. Carlos wasn’t drunk yet, but he was certainly on his way there. 

You noticed how his eyes dropped once more and you called him out on it, “I’m not kissing you again.”

“So that was a one time thing?” He asked. “And in front of your brother? You really did me dirty there.”

“I needed to prove a point.”

“Which was what exactly? That you leave half the drivers on the grid speechless?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together as Carlos said almost the exact same thing Lando said earlier in the week. You never did get a chance to ask Lando about what he meant by that. 

Carlos saw you about to turn your head in the direction of the Brit but he cupped your jaw with his hand and kept you from looking anywhere else. His thumb traced over your lower lip, it was brief and so light you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not.

“He’s looking,” Carlos told you. 

You had to admire the move, making sure your attention was on him and solely him. You could only imagine Lando’s reaction to seeing Carlos’ hand against your cheek. 

He said something else but his voice was nearly drowned out by the music playing through the speakers that you had no choice but to lean in so his lips were right next to your ear. Again, you couldn’t tell if Carlos’ did that with intent or not, lowering his voice so you’d have to close the gap even further. 

“Are you mad at him?” Carlos repeated himself.

“I don’t think mad’s the right word,” you said, pulling back slightly. Carlos kept the placement of his hand on your face, the tips of his fingers lost in the strands of your hair. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t think messing with Lando’s driver ranking plan is a valid enough reason to be asking for my help like this,” He pointed out. You were surprised that he was more well-read now a few shots in than he was on any given day. “Annoyed?”

You nodded. “He hasn’t been paying me any attention,” you rolled your eyes when you realised how needy you sounded. Carlos even chuckled at your reasoning. “So I just want to flip the cards. I want him to work for my attention.”

“Well I think it’s working,” Carlos got a devious glint in his eye. In your peripheral vision you could make out the McLaren driver slowly making his way towards you. Carlos cleared his throat when Lando was close enough and looked up at him with a blameless grin. You kept your eyes on Carlos for a few extra seconds, a little paranoid to see Lando’s reaction.

“What the hell is going on?” Lando asked, slight humour in his tone. 

But when you finally looked at him, you could see the light heartedness didn’t extend past the question. His jaw was clenched, his stare was narrowed directly on you. You wanted to reach forward and smooth out the creases in his forehead, but you stayed seated on Carlos’ lap.

“Just about to get a drink, ‘scuse us mate.” Carlos answered. You slid off his lap but his hand connected with yours as he led you away from Lando and towards the bar. 

Lando followed, obviously, walking at your other side, “Okay, honestly, what is going on?”

You stuck out your lower lip, “Oh, I’m sorry Lando, did you forget that he’s still above you on my driver ranking?”

It was slowly starting to sink in for him now what you were doing. You leaned against the bar, Carlos’ hand still on your lower back and you purposely leaned into his side as you looked at Lando on your other side. Your pout turning into a machiavellian smirk only had Lando shuffling closer to you, trying to figure out what the driving factor was behind you suddenly clinging to Carlos.

Carlos handed you a drink and you glanced down at it, seeing the margarita he had just ordered for you. You slid your index finger over the salt that rimmed the glass to collect some on the pad of your finger. Then you locked eyes with Lando as your tongue poked through your lips to lick the salt off, tasting that hint of lime in there as well. Lando watched as you purposely tugged your lower lip down slowly before bringing your face daringly close to his. Your gaze dropped to his throat as he swallowed in anticipation, waiting for what you were going to do and hating that Carlos’ hand was still on you.

Your eyes met his again. When you took a breath it hit Lando’s face and he would have given anything to taste that lime and salt combination that was still present on your tongue. 

But you were on a mission. He had to put the effort in tonight.

“Do you want to know why Carlos is higher than you, Lando?” You asked, sounding sweet with intention.

It was an act. You wanted to lure Lando closer with your voice, and it worked. He nodded, probably not even comprehending the question at its fullest. 

“I don’t have to work for his attention,” you answered, retreating closer to Carlos once again. You watched as Lando’s features hardened when Carlos’ hand slipped further around your waist. Your smirk shifted into a smile, “But now you have to work for mine.”

part 10 here | masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 @majx00 @sbgal @mehrmonga @themockingjayreader @f1mockingjay @topguncultleader @lclrnelliluvs @moonxblossom @dr3lover @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @noescapricho-essentimiento @xqueenslytherinx if i missed someone im so sorry

[unhinged-jackles]

Dearest mutual. I know nothing of formula 1. Why are the ferrari and red bull brands fighting???

oh frosty i am so so so glad you asked bc now i get to be insane.

(this got super long so I essentially have an essay below the cut. if you're curious about formula 1, give it a read!)

Ok so first let me get into a few key people in this. Lewis Hamilton is a 7 time F1 World Drivers Champion and he has the most race wins of anyone in F1 history. He is regarded as one the best if not THE best F1 driver of all time. He has been on the Mercedes team since 2013 and has won 6 of his WDCs with them.

However, in 2021, he lost the championship to Max Verstappen of team Red Bull in a controversial final race in Abu Dhabi. Max Verstappen has been the WDC since 2021, winning in both the the 2022 and 2023 season. His 2023 season broke records I believe, winning 19 out of 22 races. Not only is Verstappen an incredible driver, just a real force to be reckoned with on the race track, but Red Bull's F1 cars are just fucking insane, especially in 2022 and 2023 because of new regulations leading to a new designs. It literally sounds like a fucking rocket and he wins by large margins.

On the other hand, the Mercedes cars that dominate from 2013 to 2020 took a huge dip in 2022 due to the new designs because of new regulations, and Hamilton has been very vocal about these cars not being up to par. Hamilton has always been very loyal to Mercedes, so it came as an extreme shock when it was announced on Feb 1st that he would be moving to team Ferrari in the 2025 season. Like imagine if when Zayn left 1D he went to 5SOS. Or if a member of Stray Kids joined BTS. Idk what else to compare it to but it was fucking insane, which is why I got into F1 because I was like "ok idk what's going on but I do want to know." However, with Hamilton moving to Ferrari in 2025, this means that Carlos Sainz is essentially fired from Ferrari (also I should have mentioned this before, there are 10 F1 teams and each team has two drivers). Charles Leclerc is Ferrari's favorite, I've seen him being referenced as the 'Prince of Ferrari' by fans. So it came as no surprise that soon after Hamilton announced he's joined Ferrari in 2025, Sainz issued a statement that he and Ferrari would be parting ways at the end of 2024.

So now the definite line up for Ferrari in 2025 is Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen is also staying with Red Bull but the future of Sergio "Checo" Perez is uncertain. His contract is up at the end of 2024 and there have been rumors that he might be replaced.

Carlos Sainz has not signed with another team for 2025, at least not publicaly, so there is a lot of speculation on where he may go next. He is the only driver not from Red Bull who won a Grand Prix in 2023. Verstappen won 19, Perez won 2, and Sainz won 1. While everybody else I mentioned in this post did have a higher standing in the final rankings of the 2023 season, Sainz did get a trophy, and that's a result that matters.

2025 is going to be an incredible season to see the fight between Hamilton and Verstappen. Hamilton signing with Ferrari after finished 12 years with Mercedes shows he's really doing whatever is takes to get that 8th WDC, because that would make him the F1 driver with the most world championships of all time. Verstappen is a favorite to be the 2024 Champion, so he will probably be defending the title.

Now let's say that Perez doesn't renew his contract and Sainz has a good season this year. There is a non-zero chance that he could sign with Red Bull. Sainz was in their F1 academy, and he was beat out for the Red Bull F1 seat by Verstappen at the beginning of their F1 careers. I would literally do anything to see real hard racing between Carlos Sainz for Red Bull and Charles Leclerc for Ferrari, because frankly Ferrari keeps prioritizing Leclerc over Sainz, even if Sainz has a better pace. So to have the the 2025 lineup for Red Bull be Max Verstappen AND Carlos Sainz, while the fucking FERRARI team is Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc would be so insanely awesome.

If you read this far, thank you for coming to my ted talk 💋

[leclerced]

well now imma keep going for you homeslice. oh also i use they/them for reader! but might fuck around and be mean to charles and make reader genderfluid (afab) so it’ll be they/she pronouns!

charles really struggled that night too. like he takes a shower, calms his mind down, pops some medicine and water because his head is pounding and decides to. it’s a dreamless sleep until it’s not.

his subconscious is still replaying that dance in the club and suddenly charles finds himself pulling the reader out of the club, at some point managing to contact his driver to pick them up. Hands still on each other as they make their way outside to wait but they’re roaming and Charles only lets go long enough to open the back door for them as they climb in, charles making sure reader doesn’t kill themselves climbing in, and shuts the door before his hands are back on her.

He notices how flush the reader’s face is and how they keep murmuring to themselves and he really takes the reader in. the dress she’s wearing is simple but hugs her body to show off all her curves and chest and charles can feel how dry his lips are wanting a taste and wets his lips slightly before he’s kissing her stupid.

By the time they’re pulling into the hotel, he’s got her in the corner of the backseat. It’s not comfy but it’ll do. Shes got one leg around his hips, hands roaming over each other and charles has been drinking their moans up like he’s a starving man finally having a meal after weeks. he’s attached himself to her neck when his driver parks at the hotel entrance.

they’re stumbling out of the car and charles is hurriedly fusing the reader to the elevator and trying to keep what little composer he has left as they wait for the elevator to arrive. the moment they’re in, charles is being pulled into a corner and just manages to hit his hotel floor number before the reader is kissing him again. charles wedges a leg between reader’s and he’s absolutely enamored with how the reader gasps and whines, clinging onto Charles and kissing his neck and leaving marks as she grinds herself on his thigh. Charles got such a bruising grip on her waist to help guide her hips and has to think of literally anything else because the sight alone is going to make him cum.

begrudgingly, he pulls away when they get to his floor and easily hoist the reader up so her legs are around his waist as he goes to his room. hes fumbling with the room key because the reader is kissing and nipping his neck, whining and begging for charles, rolling her hips and charles is about .3 seconds away from just taking her right against the door in the hallway but he hears the click and is shuffling them in. doesn’t even wait till the door is shut before he’s grabbing their chin and kissing them as he somehow takes it to the bed.

charles immediately drops to his knees when the reader is on the bed. drags them by their thighs to the edge of the bed as he disappears under the hem of their dress, kissing and nipping and making their thighs before finally reaching their core. he can see how soaked they are and smirks. probably makes some comment about how the reader is so wet for him even though they hate each other. he’d probably push them to the side, too eager to rip them off as his tongue flicks their clit.

the moan that leaves that man mouth is high and slutty because the reader taste so good that he dives right in. hes eating them out truly like a starving man and pins their hips down so the reader can’t thrash around, they only can grind their hips against his face. he shifts his hands around so he can play with the reader’s clit. rubbing, flicking, pinching while his tongue is buried deep in the reader before switching and he’s sucking, very gently nipping, and lapping her clit while he’s got two fingers buried in the reader. the reader’s moans and gasps and pleas are like the best orchestra charles has ever heard. puts any classical music to shame and she taste so good, like a mortal man having the gods nectar for the first time.

charles is so pathetic though, i’ve decided 🤭🤭. he’s so busy getting the reader off and is so hard from but can’t bring himself to touch himself. he needs to be constantly touching the reader or he thinks he’s gonna die. so he finds purchase on the bed frame. he’s rolling his hips against it and groaning at the friction he’s getting and the relief he’s trying to bring himself.

charles has no idea the reader lifted their head to see how pathetic charles look but can hear them coo before they’re hiking their dress up to really see charles. They go on bout how pathetic he looks trying to get off against the bed frame and how he’s eating her out like a starved man and how for someone who hates her, he sure loves to eat her out. She probably laughs and continues to make fun of him as he whines and moans because yes he’s getting off on her making fun of him.

charles wakes up with a start when the reader is babbling about being so close and “the least you can do is get me off” and tugging at his hair in his dream and charles finds himself right over the edge. charles is gasping and panting heavily as he lies awake, he’s sweaty, and by god he can feel how wet he is in his pants. he takes a few deep breaths to gather himself before he’s pushing the blankets away. He’s biting a knuckle to muffle his whines and whimpers as he peels his bottoms away because he’s sensitive and yeah, he defiantly came in his pants. - 🐈‍⬛

im so stupid and i saved this to drafts last night instead of posting please forgive me 🫶🏻

i wanna write a 10k fic ab desperate charles thank u for this. i thought about their dynamic all day and i feel like it shifts over time. i wanna say charles has never been like that before and the dream shakes him up, he doesn’t know how to feel about it. after he cums in his pants from the dream, he’d want to try and prevent the dream from happening, at least in the sense that he doesn’t want to be trying to fuck the mattress while she mocks him for his desperation. as much as he clearly enjoyed it in his dream, he’s never been like that with anyone before, and he certainly does not want his rival of all people to be the person who humiliates him and calls him pathetic in bed. he supposes thats what makes it so hot, but still.

imagining the days after this when he can’t look reader in the eyes, not when he came in his sleep thinking about her mocking him while he went down on her. or alternatively, he cannot stop staring at her and she keeps calling him out on it but he doesn’t/can’t stop. she’s still giving him shit like always but now, it sends his mind straight to the gutters and he’s replaying the dream and the dance and how her body felt against his. every time he sees her, he’s imagining how she looks when she cums. she notices something is off because he’s not being as snippy with her as usual and she wants to ask whats up, but she doesn’t want it to seem like she cares or anything. he’s the one who started being rude first, so it feels wrong when she makes a snide remark or backhanded compliment and he doesn’t return it.

so with him not really trusting her enough to fully submit or whatever i think the first time or first few times he’s more in control, and then she has a bad race while he gets on the podium and she takes it out on him ! but like thinking ab the first time they hook up after the dream and charles is desperately trying to hang onto control.

charles goes from being an asshole who hates her to complete desperation to taste her. it happened so quickly too, she’s still wrapping her mind around it. he was telling her to shut the fuck up and to leave him alone. when she ignored him and stood there, half yelling at him, he pushed her back on his couch and was on top of her, pressing his lips to hers. she couldn’t do anything but tangle her fingers in his hair and kiss him back as he weaseled her out of her race suit. in a matter of minutes, they went from yelling at each other to a heated make out session to him kissing down her body while he tells her how long he’s been thinking about eating her out, that he dreams of how she tastes, that all he can think about is her moaning his name while he makes her cum over and over again. she’s shocked into silence by his words, like “jesus christ this guy is obsessed with eating pussy? my pussy specifically??” he occasionally switches to french and even though she doesn’t speak the language, she knows he has to be saying something equally as filthy or worse.

once he’s pulled a few orgasms out of her and she’s brainless mush he starts teasing her like, “what was it you were saying before? something about hating me?” and she’s whimpering and asking him to shut up while pressing his head back down.

then later, when she has a bad finish, she’s pushing him down onto his knees or sitting on his face until she’s satisfied with him and he couldn’t be happier

[dykeomania]

a hinge/tinder date with ellie starts awkwardly. the realization that you, as wlw, have both succumbed to the dating network app craze is a hard, but inevitable pill that you both swallow. it's one that you get over once elllie meets you in the cafe, stumbling in, all haste and made of apologies. the red line ran late and because the red line was late, her transfer over to the orange line was also a bit delayed and then there was this guy who was being a dick and she had to yell at him a little and it took up so much time and she misread which coffee shop so she had to walk from point a to point b super fast and she is so, so so sorry, but honestly? you're kind of wrapped up in the fact that .. she's even cuter than her pictures. you can tell by how they're fading that her freckles have chosen to bloom a little bit differently this past summer, and that her hair is a little bit shorter. it's usually in a bun, or a half-bun, at least from what you've assumed from her pictures. but this time it's completely down. and she's got this brown corduroy jacket on, and blundstones, and loose jeans that have a carabiner attached to one of the loops (which really didn't make sense to you, in retrospect -- she took the train, why does she have her car keys? gay signaling, you suppose) and she's honestly a little bit shorter than you'd imagined, but like... she's so fucking cute. so you're like, it's okay. i was kinda late too. as in, i got here 5 minutes ago. and you give each other a smile because you can't really be mad at each other, and once you stand, she asks you if you've ever been to the cafe before.

she pays for your coffee, and takes you on the best goddamned tour of boston that you think you've ever been on. you base this not off of the amount of places that you go to, but purely just based off of vibes. you spend too much money in chinatown because the food is so good and so outrageously inexpensive. you sunbathe, bond, and pet dogs in the boston common. you get hot cider, and take a walk along the charles river, and chat shit for ages. you learn that she doesn't really know where home is, but her dad who isn't really her dad lives in wyoming with her uncle who isn't really her uncle. you learn that she's the first in her family to go to college, and originally, she chose BU, but switched over to MIT because the physics program is better. you're like, well what do you wanna do? and she's like, honestly? i have no fucking idea. but she tells you about how when she was little, she wanted to be astronaut and if the stars align and she gets her internship at NASA this summer, maybe she'll see it through. you make jokes about lesbians in space, and almost burn your tongues. the chill in the air tells you that it's probably time to get away from the water, so you get up and start walking again.

by this point, she's content with handing off her jacket to you and easily waltzes around in the black t-shirt she's wearing with some logo in the upper right corner and a design on the back. the hair has inevitably gone up in a bun. and by this point, you've kind of walked around the same circle, over and over and over again. so randomly you're like, it's such a flex, being able to go to mit or harvard. and she's like, well you could technically go there. and all the sudden you're giving each other looks and then all the sudden you're dipping into the nearest mbta station and she's bought your train ticket and now you're hopping from the orange line, to the red line (which is surprisingly up and running, thank fucking god)

ellie's actual dorm is a single, and therefore a shoebox. but the building, and mit's campus, is huge. you walk around a little just for vibes and she shows you where she cried over her midterm last week and where she did homework literally less than 48 hours ago. but the second the sun dips, you're back in her room, and the lighting is low. you talk music, and she plays you a couple of songs off of her mac -- some that she puts you onto, some that are so familiar to the two of you that you both wind up singing it to each other. you talk, and talk, and talk, and eventually you're like, you play guitar? and then she's playing you guitar when you sit across from her on her bed, and then suddenly, she's playing you your favorite song. and she's singing it in a tone that's a lot gentler. a lot shyer. and this is like, the moment where 12 year old you is looking at you now-age you and is like, this is your coming of age romance moment. this is it. and suddenly, it becomes so still. and suddenly ellie's complimenting the color of your eyes. and suddenly, you're close enough to realize that ellie's eyes are actually like 4 different colors. and suddenly, you can feel the heat of each other's faces, and suddenly you can feel the small bit of damage that the cold has done to her lips against your own, and suddenly you're reaching for each other's faces and she's got to move her guitar off her lap--

when you wake up the next morning, it's kind of a blur. ellie isn't there, but she didn't wake you. she instead left you a note. something about how she has a 9am. something about how she'd love to do this again sometime. something about texting her when you get home. there's a bagel and a green juice from her campus cafe with your name on it, and she doesn't necessarily imply that you have to return the shirt that you slept in.

your friends have your location and they notice you've been in one sector of town for far too long. on your way out of her dorm, you check your text messages. the main one that pestered you into actually going forward with the date asks you, so, how was it?

and you smile you sip your green juice, and text her back with one hand saying, it was good. but then you pause, hit the backspace key a few times and correct your phrase to, it was great.

[bucky-hues]

stucky fic recs

here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3

one shots

finding home | @thedamageofherdays

cap steve x modern bucky

After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.

x | @dreadlockholiday

steve x bucky

Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*

x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)

steve x bucky

Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.

sweethearts | @musette22

steve x bucky

Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts

my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.

make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”

things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)

steve x bucky

In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.

Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.

So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?

catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?

Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.

let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky

steve x bucky

“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him. “I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.

the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)

steve x bucky

After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.” “That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.” Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.

stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Captain America helps the Vet next door.

you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)

steve x bucky

When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.

perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.

“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”

wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)

steve x bucky

"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth

steve x bucky (teacher au)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.

OR:

Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.

single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"

A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.

these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.

knock on wood | 74days (AO3) 

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night. All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.

progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)

steve x bucky

“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down

Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.

(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)

stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked.

“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”

-

The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.

thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)

police officer steve x serial killer bucky

Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.

much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.

kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3) 

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?

It takes him a while to catch on.

exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)

modern steve x nurse bucky

“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”

“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”

kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)

doctor steve x modern bucky

Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.

With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?

you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.

nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?

rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him. She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...

odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

series

rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

4 minute window | @cesperanza

steve x bucky

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

swapped | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

if u wanted my number u couldve just asked

u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)

Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.

He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.

All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.

And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.

brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou 

steve x bucky

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (college au)

Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?

In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.

is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event

the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)

pop star steve x modern bucky

Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.

songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)

modern steve x musician bucky

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x ws bucky

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

[enochianribs]

p r o j e c t l a z a r u s (outlast au) pt 1.

Dean, a supernatural investigative reporter, receives an anonymous tip that something terrible has happened at what is supposed to be the long abandoned Novak Institute. As things quickly go south, Dean finds himself trapped within the rotting halls, pushed further and further in even as he tries to escape. What he discovers underneath the mountain may very well be the death of him.

read on ao3 here | or under the cut.

 The tip was anonymous but he’d followed it in good faith. If the lead was anything he’d hoped for, he’d have the story of his lifetime.       If    it was good. A huge if, but he was getting about that desperate for a big break, especially since he was still competing with Henriksen and Ash. Half of the time he couldn’t figure out where the fuck they were getting such gold mine stories. The bastards.

 He parked the Impala outside the gate, a tick of paranoia etching itself in his spine that someone would see him and yank the story out from under him. He debated covering Baby with branches and then realized that there was literally      no one     around. Outside of the sound of dry leaves blowing across the cracking blacktop and the breeze rustling the dying aspens, there was not a sound.

 Feeling stupid, he grabbed his small duffel bag and double checked its contents: his video camera (getting a little outdated with all the new tech but he’d bet his life on its durability), his flip phone (yeah, yeah, he knows), the first aid kit (he always brought it with when he went into abandoned buildings after stepping on that rusty nail that one time), a flashlight, the EMF detector (made it himself), and the switchblade (stolen from his father).

 The tools of the trade, if your trade was being insane and stupid and reporting on old urban legends and ghosts and demonic possessions and shit. Y’know, normal stuff. The kinda job you could tell someone about on the first date.

 With the contents all accounted for, Dean locked Baby up, shoved his keys into the bag and took a deep breath.

     Show time.  

 Beyond the crumbling brick wall towered the Institute in all of its fading glory, its architecture dated and magnificent even as the clay tile roofing broke and shattered at its base, creating a minefield of broken pieces sharp enough to dig through the tread of his boot if he wasn't careful. The hedges were overgrown and misshapen, and most of the exterior windows were broken. Dean could only assume from local teenagers trashing the place. It must have been beautiful back in the day, a hidden gem among the peaks. Fuckin’ kids.

 According to an old newspaper article, the Novak Institute was closed down in 1982 for financial reasons and had been avoided by every sensible local like it was cursed ever since. It was founded in the early 1880s by a man named Charles Shurley with a simple goal: fund and research miracle cures. The stuff of angels, as the word of mouth story went. After his death in 1930, his wealthy in-laws took over and kept his goal in mind as they expanded into even more experimental treatments for all kinds of medical and psychological ailments.

 Folks from around the world came to be healed, and the Novaks—   Shurley’s in-laws—  were damn      good    at it. They sought to push the boundaries between modern, traditional, and experimental medicine and frequently did so successfully.

 In 1970, a woman by the name of Naomi Novak took over the Institute, and (though it had always been a private facility for the wealthy to turn about their health for the better) she privatized the institution completely. Within a year it became a family owned research facility. Rumor was that members of the Novak family suffered from a mysterious condition, one that they kept behind closed doors and drawn curtains and that she was hellbent on finding the fix for it.

 From there Dean took every tale he'd scrounged up from the small mountain town down the road with a grain of salt. Urban legends all started somewhere, but along the way they lost the truth, and that was usually where the scary stuff kicked in.

 Still, the story went that it had been the wrong direction for the family to take, and they immediately stumbled into financial struggles that eventually dragged the entire thing down around them. In '82 they closed their doors, for good.

 Except, two days ago Dean received an encrypted email. Sent out in mass, he suspected. The contents of the email was straight up bizzare— since he'd received it, he'd kept a printed copy tucked into his back pocket, folded up and folded up again until the creases wore thin and threatened to tear.

It was in the mountain. They told me not to look. I did anyway. She told me not to look. By the time I send this, it will be too late. The Novak Institute needs to be burned to the ground. Don’t look. Just light the match and let it go.     

Dean’s issue was always the same.      Of course     he was gonna look. That was kinda his whole job—  stick his nose where it shouldn’t go and see what bit it. In fact, he      wanted     something to bite. That would be his big break. He just had to haul ass the other direction the second something chomped down and pray that he caught it on camera.

So here he was, sticking his nose where it shouldn’t be.

To the left of the main doors sat an armoured convoy. Its doors were closed, and it looked surprisingly free from rust, if it has been sitting there for a couple of decades.

 The model of the car was somewhat new, Dean realized.

 "Huh," He stopped in front of it, swiping a finger along its hood. Inspecting the pad for dust, it came away blank. His finger barely left a trail. The vehicle was spotless. It couldn't have been sitting there longer than a day with the way the wind swept dust across the open courtyard. "Weird."

 The convoy should have been his first red flag, so scarlet it must have been dyed fresh with blood. It wasn't.

 Dean pulled one of the ornate handles on the front door, but it didn't give an inch. They were made of a solid piece of wood, heavy duty. There was something vaguely fortified about the place. Hospitals had welcoming doors, encouraging people to come and get better. These, Dean could tell by the massive iron hinges they hung from, were bolted shut from the inside.

 Dean tried the other handle just in case. Nothing. He sighed, and tugged out his phone. 4:10 PM. One bar of signal that kept flashing in and out of existence. In October, the sun would be going down soon…and he was only supposed to be checking it out today. His plan was to come back at sunrise for a full day of sunlight and investigation.

 Down the expanse of shattered windows, a piece of glass skittered out across the cobblestone. His head jerked up and instinctually, he called out a inquisitive "Hello?"

 No one answered, but he heard, with straining ears, what sounded like footsteps shuffling further into the building.

 What if someone had beat him here? He hadn't been the only person the email was sent to. There was a chance that coming back tomorrow meant he lost the story to someone else. Henriksen would never let him hear the end of that. Dean had boasted that he had something      big,    had left in the middle of the night to get here before anyone else. No, he was not going to let Henriksen win another bet against Ash.

 Almost drowned out by the sound of the continued breeze, Dean heard a door slam shut inside the Institute. A stone sank past the bottom of his stomach down to the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and the insidious feeling that someone was watching him crept around his psyche until he had no choice but to look back over his shoulder. The courtyard remained the same: desolate, abandoned.

 "Fuck it."

 He should've pulled his switchblade out, just in case, but he settled on the flashlight, fingers wrapping around it tightly. The light was really starting to die beyond the snowy backdrop, warm sunlight fading into a sickly orange glow that bathed everything in sight.

 "Just one room." Dean muttered to himself, and shouldered the bag, brandishing the flashlight with a grimace.

 This was a stupid idea.

 Like a statuette too close to the end of a table, Dean hoisted himself carefully over the edge of broken glass and hopped into the room blind. Darkness greeted him, enveloped him in an unknown that would consume him and spit a cracked reflection back out. All it would take was a little push in the wrong direction to send him toppling to the floor.

 The halls of Novak Institute were filled with hands just itching for something to break.

[themadauthorshatter]

I don't know about you guys, but I think it's time we check on Charles.

If you haven't read the previous parts, you can find them here:

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4 and revision

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Recap time: the symptoms of withdrawl are beginning to kick in and leave Charles in less than favorable conditions, which Henry shows to the government in order to get the sapphire back.

Got that? My episode synopsis-ing is getting better😃. Anyway, ONWARD!!!

We begin with Charles sitting against the wall with his head in his arms and his knees to his chest. It's been a few days, withdrawal's in full blast, and he can't even pick up his head when he hears Henry walk in and kneel in front of him.

"Go away."

Henry simply holds out the pills again. "It must be hard without these, just sitting and counting the stars. Assuming you can do that," he adds with a shrug.

He reaches forward and practically picks up Charles's jaw, lifting it up so they meet eyes, which Charles doesn't do because the chain on his hat is shiny, there's a red hair on his coat, a papercut on his thumb, the scar on the bridge of his nose, and tons of small things that keep getting his attention.

"My offer still stands, Charles. All I need is you to tell me where it is, and you can have these back. Every last one."

Charles only stares off as his face contorts with sorrow and frustration, even when Henry snaps his fingers to get him to focus.

"Come on, Charles. We've been at this for a while, and I'm having a hard time seeing you like this now, so tell me. Where did you hide the sapphire?"

Tears fill Charles's eyes and his shoulders drop. "I don't know," he sobs. "I... I don't know."

Henry sighs and scowls, pocketing the pills. "Well, damn it for the both of us, then."

As he opens the door, Charles rushes at him, hard enough to knock them both to the ground and dent the cuffs.

Charles, not looking a gift horse in the mouth, books it, running down the hall and around every corner he can.

Henry, chuckling, stands up. "Alright. Let's do this, Charles."

Charles keeps running(really getting his cardio and steps in here), ducking behind and diving wherever he can to avoid being seen and found, eventually finding his way to a weapon vault.

In a rush and a panic, he bashes the cuffs off and repeatedly slams his hand against the panel to slip inside; don't worry, his ribs are better enough to be Bold Action Man again.

Inside, Charles catches his breath and tries to get his bearings, even when Sven announces over the intercom to keep an eye out for a runaway pilot.

Now knowing people are looking for him, Charles lets out a sob-groan and throws his hands over his eyes, losing it before taking a few deep breaths.

"Just breathe," he mutters to himself. "Just breathe, Charlie. You've managed before once. You can do it again." Charles takes another breath and arms himself with a handgun as someone begins to open the door.

He quickly draws and aims at Henry(are you surprised?), who raises an eyebrow and gives Charles a look of, 'bitch, really?' and leaning against the doorway, propped up on his arm.

Charles only stands his ground, taking deep breaths as he shakily speaks. "Take me home."

Henry only responds by snapping his fingers on one side and tapping his nails against the doorway, two sounds that heavily distract Charles.

It gets worse when, in between snaps and taps, Henry cracks and pops his knuckles, even clicking and clucking his tongue and tsking.

It doesn't help that Charles keeps noticing the weapons on the walls, especially the damage some have on them.

Henry snaps his fingers in front of Charles and removes his top hat, so Charles has a clear shot to his head.

Charles clenches his eyes shut and pulls the trigger, damning the consequences and the fact that he still has no idea how to get home.

Click!

Charles pales as his stomach drops with his hands and the gun, sliding to the ground as Henry kneels back in front of him.

"Do you REALLY think we'd keep our weapons loaded when we don't use them?"

Charles goes to hit Henry with the gun, as it's now a blunt weapon, but Henry grabs his wrist and pulls him close, so his back is against Henry's chest and Henry can slip an elbown around Charles's neck.

"By the way," Henry says before leaning into Charles's ear and growling, "You should've taken that shot, when you had the chance."

CUT TO EARTH(BECAUSE I'M A TROLL😈😈😈)

Rupert and Calvin are driving on that off road from Part 4 and looking for Charles's car, he's gonna need for when he gets back.

"I hope Charles is okay."

"You said that yesterday," Rupert replies sharply.

Calvin shrugs. "I'm just worried, that's all. He's been gone for a while, and Henry's got him."

"And he wants to know where we put the sapphire."

Rupert stops when they find Charles's car, but Calvin's not done.

"Where's the sapphire, anyway?"

"Shipped it off," Rupert explains as he leaves the car. "The General's having some friends of his make a replica, though, out of glass."

Calvin follows and they find a very relaxed Terrence, who's lying on Charles's car.

Calvin steps up and demands to know what Terrence is doing here.

"Nice to see you, too," Terrence sighs as he gets up. "What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

"We're bringing Charles home, and he's gonna need that," Rupert snarls.

"Not where he is, but knock yourselves out," Terrence dismisses as he tosses the keys to Calvin. "Told anyone that it needed gas. Kept it company."

Calvin eyes Terrence, but loads in and starts Charles's car.

"I'll follow you," Rupert calls as he hops back into his car; the plan is that they're going to rtyrn the car to Charles's house, grab the twins', and return to the base. Rupert's following Calvin, for safety reasons.

Calvin gives a thumbs up and they head out toward Charles's house, Terrence riding with a tense Rupert.

"So the pilot's up in the stars now? Shame."

"You left him that note," Rupert replies sharply. "Why?"

Terrence raises an eyebrow. "When people can't solve a problem, you either give them a hint or solve it for them, which won't help them at all."

Rupert's eyes go wide as he stares at Terrence. "'Help?' You call getting Charles kidnapped 'HELP?'"

"Help is like art; it can mean anything."

"That son of a bitch is forcing him into withdrawl!" Rupert snaps. "He's keeping him from taking his medicine and you're just going to sit back and say you 'helped!?'"

Terrence stares down at his boots as Rupert locks his eyes on the road.

"I swear, if Charles dies, it's on you."

Terrence only stares out the window and remains silent for a while until they drop off Charles's car and head back to the base.

"He won't die. Henry won't let him."

"How do you know?" Rupert asks.

"Because he's selfish and childish, and he hates sharing his toys."

"But he LEADS the Toppat Clan."

"Which used to belong to Reginald," Terrence explains. "Charles is the General's son, adopted or otherwise, and the General calls MOST of the shots."

Rupert tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "And with Charles on that station, we can't attack."

Terrence nods. "The General's already lost a lot of people. What d'you think he'll do if he accidentally gets Charles incinerated in space?"

They're silent for the rest of the drive, after that.

Now that I bring up Galeforce, we cut to him watching the live feed of Charles escaping before being dragged back to his cell, kicking, screaming, and crying. Right, who's pulling him, grabs his hands and re-restrains him, so Charles is back to hanging.

WITH CHARLES!

He's struggling against his cuffs again as Henry, Right, Reginald and Ellie watch, unimpressed, fed up, and just sick of his BS.

"You know, this would've been A LOT easier, if he'd just stayed like this the entire time," Ellie rematks with her arms folded.

Henry nods, but signs, 'We can't have him atrophied or with his arms stick like that, but at least it keeps him in one place.'

They watch him keep trying to break free, Charles not noticing them.

"We could tell 'im 'ow to get to an escape pod, and 'e wouldn't listen," Right says.

"We could literally say ANYTHING, and he wouldn't listen," Ellie adds.

Reginald only sighs/groans as he leans his head against Right's shoulder. "How long is he going to do that until he realizes it won't help?"

They watch Charles for a little bit longer before, Ellie, who gets the 'okay' nod from Henry, steps up and slams her fist into Charles's stomach.

Charles stops instantly and has a coughing fit.

Cut to Galeforce seeing this and clenching a fist before cutting back to Charles as he keeps coughing.

"You're not doing yourself any favors, so just tell us what we want to know and we'll send you on your merry way."

Charles weakly glares at them, though he looks eyes with Henry.

"What part of 'I don't know where the sapphire is,' do you not understand?" He snaps. "I fell unconscious, when I gave it to them, so HOW could I be able to tell where they hid it?"

Henry furrows his brow before Reginald speaks up, "If you didn't hide it, someone else must have, and you're the top pilot, if you don't know where it is, who would?"

Charles immediately thinks of the twins, but shakes his head, eyes on the floor to avoid looking at everyone. "I don't know."

"Careful, kid," Right says. "If y' keep lying, you'll get yourself killed."

Charles shakes his head again. "I really don't know."

Right, knowing Charles is lying, punches him in the cheek with his non-cybernetic hand.

It makes Charles's ear ring and makes him taste blood(because he bit his cheek), before Henry approaches him and signs to him.

'Don't think I forgot about those twins you care about. If they know, we'll drop you off and pick them up, easy. Unless you want to tell us yourself where ths sapphire is?'

Charles's face drops with horror before he glares and spits a mix of blood and saliva at Henry, hitting him on the cheek.

"Fuck you."

Henry, ever the gentleman, scowls and wipes himself off, nodding at Right and Ellie; 'He's yours.'

He and Reginald turn to leave, but Henry lightly holds Ellie's arm and leans into her ear.

"Don't break him."

"Why would I break your new favorite toy? Give me some credit."

The two smile at each other and Henry leaves, Reginald behind him; he did not want to be in that room when Right and Ellie were there.

The door closes and the two turn to Charles, Right letting Ellie go forst because she's a lady👸

Cut back to Galeforce, who cringes as Ellie punches Charles sone more, the pilot groaning and crying out with each strike.

Victoria and Konrad enter the room carefully, Konrad holding a rolled up piece of paper and Victoria there as his escort and emotional support.

"General, you asked for us?"

Galeforce turns away from the monitor as he it shows Ellie letting Right take a turn and Charles pick up his feet to kick him away.

"I did. How's the design coming along?"

Konrad passes the rolled up paper to Galeforce, who opens and insects it.

"We've already got a few prototypes being built, so we should be ready for testing soon."

Galeforce nods at them. "Good. When they're done, have them tested ASAP, got it?"

Both nod and Galeforce dismisses them, though. Victoria stays to long enough to see him set down the paper and maks himself keep watching the feed, on which Right throws a kick HARD into Charles's stomach and makes him cough worse than when Ellie punched him.

It makes Victoria flunch becofe she turns to the General.

"I don't know who's getting it worse, him or you."

Galeforce ignores her, only watching as Right lets Ellie have a turn again.

Victoria puts a hand on his shoulder, and she can FEEL how much he's shaking.

"We're going to bring him home soon, General. I promise."

Galeforce, without looking, rests his hand on Victoria's.

"Thank you."

CUT BACK TO CHARLES!!!

Right and Ellie are gone, and he's beat to all hell, his face and body bloodied and bruised, though his ribs aren't as significantly bruised as his face, because of obvious reasons.

Charles is breathing heavily and spitting out blood, because it taste makes him sick. He rests his head against his arm and gives his restraints another pull before sighing and letting out a sob.

He doesn't know if the others know he's on the station, but hopes that they're both alright and planning on getting him out, because he's trapped.

Then he thinks about how Henry knew Charles was protecting the twins, and breaks down.

Henry knows about the twins.

"I'm sorry," Charles says to no one in particular. "I'm so sorry."

[bubbashawn]

Honey

author: Here’s my first completed request!! Also this is day 7 or 8 of me posting in a row so I’m patting myself on the back. Hope y’all like it and yes it mentions the “pr” stunt w/ Camila so don’t attack me

synopsis: You overhear something you should’ve known all along. But why does Shawn care? He’s the one who threw 5 years away. Throw in a New Year’s Eve Party and everything is bound to go haywire.

warning: requested by anon. Forgive me I swore lol but really it falls in my brand so 2k of angst to fluff :)

“Baby, I love you.”

“Yeah well maybe you should’ve thought about that before Miami!”

“It’s all a PR stunt, Y/N. I don’t get it! Why is this such a big deal to you? That all means shit to me! You know that!”

“Because you didn’t tell me, Shawn,” your eyes started watering but you ignored them, “because I had to explain to my family why your tongue was down some other girls throat and I didn’t know how to because you didn’t tell me!”

Shawn knew a fake relationship would go haywire, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to love you right if he was pretending to love some other girl. Shawn knew what would happen and yet here he was. Standing, begging, in front of you to stay with him because he didn’t think he could ever lose you.

“Honey, you know I love you.”

“Saying I love you isn’t going to fucking fix anything!”

It was true. He loved you so much that he didn’t consider that you’d end things, not when you were so in love with each other. His stupid ego was causing havoc while you cried in his kitchen with your key resting on his counter.

You loved him too much. This hurt too much.

You had that key since he first bought his condo, he remembered the two of you moving him out of his family home. You also used to have a key for there. The two of you had met back in Pickering before Handwritten, before Vine even and your relationship had guided the two of you through your rising fame. You were the one constant in his life, his love for you the only thing keeping him grounded through it all.

“I’m done. I won’t be made a fool and the paparazzi probably will be here soon, so I’m just going to leave.”

“Y/N…”

“Bye Shawn, have a nice life.”

You felt arms shift around your waist and your eyes snapped open. It was just a dream. Except it wasn’t because it wasn’t Shawn’s arms wrapped around you or his cologne covered pillow your head rested on. It was your boyfriend’s.

Not Shawn’s.

Collin must have noticed you shift in his bed because his crystal eyes were staring down at you. He had the sharpest blue eyes you had ever seen, a stark contrast to the familiar hazel.

Collin Bradford had been perfect.

He was what any girl like you could dream of. He wasn’t famous which was foremost the best because you didn’t have to deal with a rivalry about who’s better. He understood your strange hours and never complained about the red carpets or photographers. He was happy to let you take the spotlight. ENews was obsessed with him, not that you blamed them, Collin was by far the most attractive man you had been with since Shawn.

Collin Bradford had been perfect, until he wasn’t.

Once he got comfortable in the relationship he started letting all the new attention get to his head. He became flirty and arrogant. He was the golden boy of Hollywood and he always claimed to love you, so you let him stay in your life. When the cheating scandal happened you let him back in. And the 2 after that. Funny how you let him make you seem like a fool when you’d broken Shawn’s heart for the same reason.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. What time is it?”

“Almost 6. Do you need to get up?”

“Mmm,” you hummed in agreement, “I’ve got that interview with Spanish Vogue in three hours.”

Carol, your stylist, would kill you if you weren’t sitting in front of her within the next hour. You rose to your feet ignoring the ache that Shawn always massaged out of your back.

“Want an espresso?”

“No, don’t bother,” you smiled back at him, “let at least one of you enjoy a morning in bed.”

“Want to get me one?”

“Sure thing.”

“You’re the best Baby,” his face was hidden in his phone before you could say another word. That was his way of saying he’s done with this conversation.

You walked out of the bedroom and hurried to make your boyfriend his drink before scurrying back to place it by his head. He didn’t acknowledge you.

“We have Hailey Bieber’s New Year’s Eve Party tonight. You still want to come?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there.”

You were out the door by 6:10, accustomed to the tight schedule. It was two and a half hours when you noticed a 6’2” frame with curly hair towering over you. You didn’t dare look up until you saw his swallow tattoo emitting an unwanted gasp from your throat. Carol looked at you weirdly but your eyes were trained on pointed Chelsea boots that were hesitantly shuffling towards your seated figure.

“Y/N,” he sounded the same, honey smooth like the rest of him, “Y/N?”

Your gaze lifted from the ground where he stood, up his body and past the undone buttons of his shirt until you stopped on the hazel eyes from your distant memories.

“Hey.”

“Wow, Hi,” he was staring, “it’s been what, 2 years?”

“Just about. 2 years at the end of next month.”

Shawn didn’t pay attention to the nervous quake in your voice and if he did he didn’t make any moves to soothe your mind. He just remained mere feet away and looking down at you.

You hated that you could see the love behind his irises. He had put you through so much even after you left. Shawn hadn’t broken up with Camila for another 8 months after yours. That’s why you didn’t run back to him.

“Wha-what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, um I have an interview about my new work.”

“I heard about that. Congratulations by the way.”

“Thanks.”

He was still staring and watched you shift off the chair to stand before him. Shawn wasn’t paying mind to how close you two actually were until the air between you was mixing. You took his breath away, literally.

“Are you still with that asshole, Charles?”

“Charles? You mean Collin?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Then yes, yes I am.”

“Why? Didn’t he cheat on you?”

“Keeping tabs on me?”

He was growing frustrated with your stubbornness.

“Believe it or not, I still love you, Y/N. And I hate seeing you get hurt, especially by some guy who doesn’t deserve you!”

“And who deserves me? You? Shawn, the whole reason I was in this relationship to start was to get you out of my head,” your eyes were tearing up just like that night years ago, “because believe it or not, you hurt me first.”

Carol, bless her soul, gave an apologetic smile towards Shawn for interrupting your conversation and began walking you towards your interview.

“Honey, you okay?”

You nodded your head trying to piece your mind together before some poor interviewer talked to you.

“It was hard not to listen in,” she smiled softly, “but if you want my thoughts, I think he was telling the truth.”

You looked into her eyes searching for answers that you already knew.

“He loves you, Y/N, and I think you love him too.”

With one final look to make sure her observations got through to you, Carol opened the door and guided you towards your manager.

The interview went fine and before you know it, it was over. You spaced out one too many times, you were sure, but it was over and done with. A photo shoot followed so you would have a cover image on Spanish Vogue and before you knew it the sun was setting.

After a long day filled with too many people and the run-in with Shawn, the last thing on your mind was New Years. You had honestly forgotten about it until you got a slew of texts all talking about the plans for the evening. Everyone was going to show up around 10 and the night would progress from there.

You, however, wouldn’t leave the Vogue building until 11:20.

“Your dress is in the car so you’ll have to change in the back which is why I made sure the car would have a partition. And Collin can help you, okay?”

Collin would not be helping if you had a say in anything.

“Thank you, Carol, enjoy the holiday!”

“You too.”

You slipped into the Bentley waiting by the glass doors ignoring the flashes of cameras. And quickly pulled your dress from the door before turning to your boyfriend expectantly.

“Go up to the passenger seat.”

“It’s not like I haven’t seen you strip before,” he chuckled, eyeing the silky minidress in your hand, “is that even a full dress? Like I’m actually going to let you walk out of here in that.”

“Go to the fucking front and you haven’t had a worthy opinion about anything in the last 8 months because you cheated on me so get out.”

He glared at you but didn’t have any excuse. What could he say to you? Sorry? Collin hopped out ignoring the questions and the shouts about his scandals and sat in the front next to your driver. He glowered even more, if that’s possible, when the divider screen went up.

The party was in full blast by the time you had arrived. With only ten minutes until midnight everyone was bustling to reach their lover or any stranger with a decent pair of lips. Everyone was drunk, and if not absolutely hammered then tipsy. Not one person was standing without leaning on something for support.

“Collin, I’m ge-”

Your boyfriend who was minutes ago standing behind you was now leaning against the kitchen counter between some pretty girl’s thighs. His lips sipping from her solo cup before latching on her neck. Shocker.

Shawn was surely the only person aware of his surroundings and though no one else paid mind to you slipping into the party looking absolutely gorgeous except him. No one noticed the asshole behind you sneaking off to fuck some model. No one noticed your unsurprised yet hurt expression.

No one noticed except him.

He’d be lying to say he hadn’t been watching the front door since he arrived, looking for your familiar face. He was elated when you walked through the door because despite the fact that every time you two spoke it resulted in a fight, he still missed you. Had Shawn been a man with any common sense he would’ve shut down the whole pr relationship concept before it even became a possibility. But he hadn’t and then he lost the most important person in his life.

10

He made his way through the crowd offering friendly greetings to the drunk party goers before he was standing feet away from you again.

9

This time however your eyes didn’t shy away like they had earlier that day. No, they watched his gaze flicker across your entire being drinking you in.

8

“Hi,” your voice was breathless.

7

“Hey,” his hands found your waist.

6

“Are you drunk?”

5

“No,” he smiled before repeating your question back at you, already knowing the answer.

4

“Are you drunk?”

3

“No.”

2

“Good.”

1

Shawn’s lips were pressed against your own and he tasted the same as when he was 16. It was like his eyes, pure honey, just so undeniably sweet. You wondered how you didn’t wander back to him like an addict during your 2 years of deprivation.

“Happy New Years, Baby.”

His mouth latched to yours again not wanting to pull apart longer than he had to.

“We still,” you whimpered when your lips separated again as he looked down at you, “we still have to talk about this. About us.”

“As long as there is an us, I’ll talk to you forever. And you have to break things off with that asshole.”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed against his lips.

“You’re my honey. You’re my sweet, sweet honey.”

“You sure you aren’t drunk?”

“Not drunk,” he couldn’t help but smile against your lips, “just happy. Really fucking happy.”

permanent tag list: @wholesomemendes @fallinallincurls @ashwarren32 @mendesficsxbombay @haute-shawn @turtoix @prncsnee @http-isabela

[vegetalass]

RDR2 Boys as Sugar Daddies

This is so nasty don’t read it 👀

18+!!! 

Basically just don’t tell the lawmen I wrote it

Arthur 

His main goal is for you to look nice by his side and for people to be jealous

To say he wants an absolute doll would be an understatement

This man wants a quiet sugar baby who does whatever he wants

And that’s not to say that means someone submissive, just that he wants someone who is open to anything and doesn’t question his requests 

Honestly, just let him choose what you wear

Model everything for him in the dressing room so he can decide if things are a yes or no 

He always says yes, but it’s a process that you cannot skip 

He also likes a sugar baby who’s happy to see him 

The more excited and grateful and kissy you are when you’re around him, the better

Totally milks you for kisses any chance he gets

Specifically, cheek kisses (in public) 

“All I get is a thank you?” or “I’m not so sure, I’m gonna need some more convincing” 

Initiate sex in his car, you won’t regret it 

Also, go with him when he’s shopping for himself... 

The flex rates will be off the charts

Gets you one of those lil necklaces with his initials on it

Please wear his Vineyard Vines flannels 

It’s instant boner material 

John 

Bad at being a sugar daddy, but he gets the job done 

Basically just gets you a credit card attached to his account and leaves it at that

But he loves seeing the your style morph as you buy new clothes and jewelry 

And loves seeing the designer tags and receipts that get left around his house 

Spends a lot more time trying to do stuff with you rather than buy you things 

He’s the one who takes vacations and yacht trips (and whatever else rich people do idfk) because he doesn’t know how else to spoil you 

He’s also the one who wears $500 sweatpants and Gucci slippers all the time 

He’s a bad father not because he doesn’t care about Abigail and Jack, but he takes you to Jack’s sports games and performances (ouch) 

He’s not doing it to be malicious though, he just likes to take his sugar baby along with him when he goes places

And honestly it’s fine because Abigail makes his pockets hurt too 

If you try to take him clothing or jewelry shopping with you, he gets so confused 

You could be trying on the ugliest, most expensive outfit and he’d be like “Yes, looks great, I love it” or could be trying to choose between two pairs of diamond earrings and he wouldn’t be able to tell them apart

TBH, has a private chef

Charles

All about the subtleties 

Expensive flowers and wine delivered to your door

Has custom bracelets and rings made to give you

Picks you up from work in his expensive ass car

Doesn’t care if you’re walking around barefaced in pajamas as long as you’re wearing the gold necklace he got you

He doesn’t really care for doing the shopping with you, but he does want you to be happy

If you ask for anything, he just hands you his credit card and car keys

And then expects you to show (*cough* model) it all to him later, of course

Expect to go out to expensive dinners CONSTANTLY

Also to do other fun things, like go to ballgames, concerts, and etc. 

Probably has a membership at every single private club and store in the area

Loves a good designer, pink sheer bathrobe and matching fuzzy slippers vibe

Also… lipstick stains 

He will walk around all day with them on his face on purpose

If someone points it out, he smiles and ignores them 

Posts pictures of you guys together on social media and doesn’t respond to comments

Buys you all the latest technology the day it comes out

New phone, new headphones, new vacuum cleaner, and anything at all

Basically what I’m saying is: marry him 

Micah 

Since we’re already being nasty, he’s probably just in it for the sex

He wants you to look nice too, but for him, it’s more about the reward he gets from it at the end 

AKA: Taking it off of you 

He’s a freak of nature, so his favorite thing is seeing his sugar baby in pretty heavy makeup 

Mostly because he likes seeing it run and smear over time

Gets off to you telling other people how much you love him and showing off everything he’s bought you

He’s also willing to spend more on you if you brag

Like Arthur, he likes to have a deciding vote on everything you buy, but he actually takes it seriously and comments on how things look

Probably ends up complaining if you want to buy things that aren’t meant to impress him (see: pajamas, expensive snacks, furniture, etc. )

If you beg hard enough though, he’ll just sigh and give in 

“I work so hard for you and give you so much and this is how you treat me?” 

Sugar baby: “Yes.”

Expects nudes in the underwear he ships to your house 

They’re all G-strings, see through, or latex 

Kieran 

One of those sugar daddies who mostly just wants the emotional connection 

But that’s okay because he’s a sweetie and we love him

Enjoys it when his sugar baby gets a little bratty 

He’s not into the punishing aspect of it, but loves feeling needed and useful

Basically just boss him around a little bit

Has all your clothes tailored specifically for you

Likes to hold all your shopping bags at the mall while you run around buying things

If you genuinely ask him for advice, suggestions, or thoughts on anything you want to get, he immediately has to get it for you… Doesn’t matter what it is or if it’s ugly, them’s the rules 

He’s mostly just so touched that you care what he thinks 

Please introduce him to your coworkers so he can flex 

He’s pretty humble about it, but it’s still fun 

Probably owns some super large ranch out in the country that you both vacation at a lot

The one social media post he makes of you is a picture of you riding a fancy horse there

It’s blurry, but it’s the thought (and the flex) that counts

Wear anything with his name on it and he has to pass away immediately 

Javier

As long as you’re in expensive clothes and makeup, he doesn’t really care about much else 

And not just any expensive clothes, the expensive clothes that HE picked out

Usually they match his

You can suggest things for him to buy, but overall he likes to pick things out

The intent of making you look nice is so that he looks better

Enjoys it when you hang on his arm and dote on him 

Be taller than him. 

Even if it takes heels, do it

Posts pictures of his sugar baby on social media

Lowkey his entire feed is just you in a different outfit in every single photo

The captions are all like “Had fun today” or “👍”

Hair and nails always done 24/7

He makes the appointments for you 

If you let him choose the color and style, you will be rewarded 

Hires a limo for every occasion 

And yes, he has a private driver 

As long as he’s flexing with you, he’s happy 

Sean

Anything you want, you have to ask for

Not because he doesn’t want to get it for you, but because he wants to hear you beg for it (and whine) 

Literally just wants to show his sugar baby off 

All he does at parties is talk about you 

How you met, how sweet you’ve been, how pretty you are, etc. 

Constantly bringing you flowers

So many flowers that they’re practically just laying around your house 

Sex in dressing rooms

No, he’s not afraid to give you oral in them

And yes, it’s obvious 

Slips the attendant some cash on the way out because you feel so bad for them

Probably has tabs open at most shops and clubs, so paying isn’t a problem after he introduces you to staff

Pays for a private booth at a nightclub vibes

Sit on his lap to make the other boys jealous 

[neverending-space]

Jim Moriarty x reader

A/n: So whenever I’m procrastinating, I write stories and I thought, why not share them, you know, cause I’ve been putting off writing ‘Get away’ and I was watching Reichenbach Fall

Note: there’s no real conclusion, it’s just for fun.

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

“There’s been another one! Pentonville!!” Donovan threw her phone down as Greg swerved past other cars in desperation. “Greg you’re gonna kill us!!” You shouted, holding onto the seat in front of you. The minute the car stopped, you, Donovan and Greg ran out the car and into the building, putting on Kevlar vests (just in case) on your way to the vault. The vault opened and there, sitting on the throne in all his Irish glory, decked out in the Crown Jewels, was James Moriarty. “No rush.” He said in a carefree manner, waving his hand for theatrics. ‘God I love that man...’ You thought, snapping a picture of him before SWAT cuffed him. “What are you doing!?” Donovan asked you, venom laced in her voice. “What do you thing I’m doing Donovan? This is literally the coolest thing ever.” You sigh, putting your phone in your back pocket. As SWAT marched James past you, he stopped and leaned in. “Send that to me, will you darling?” He winked as they pulled him away. You struggled hard to keep the blush off of your face. Ever since the bombing case two years ago (which John dubbed ‘The Great Game’) you had had an incredibly annoying infatuation with the criminal. You would often get little notes signed with a simple ‘JM’. You knew it was a terrible idea to get emotionally invested, but oh well right? Greg gave you a strange look as you two were walking out to wait for John and Sherlock. “What?” You ask, turning you head slightly to get a better look at him. “Nothin” He brushed you off. “Greg...” You sighed, shaking your head. “It’s just- you act... weird around him.” He jerked his head in the direction of Moriarty’s departing police car. “I act weird around everyone.” You roll your eyes, but you can feel the heat returning to your face. “I know, it’s just- different. Did he do something to you?” He asked, fatherly concern showing on his face. “No. This line of questioning is over.” You cross your arms and take a defensive stance as the boys arrive. “Garry, what did you say to my sister?” Sherlock sauntered up as Greg threw his hands in the air. “C’mon you two, I’ll show you the footage.” You beckon them as you started walking. Unfortunately Sherlock is a million times taller than you, so he caught up easily. “Are you okay?” He asked, his curls blowing in his face. “I’m fine Sherl, it’s my thing, Greg was just concerned that’s all.” He looked at you, confusion now etched in his features, as if he was silently asking ‘who?’. You let out a snort of laughter and his face relaxed.

“Remember, he’s a psychopath, he’s insane!!” Greg yelled after you as you make your way to the interrogation room that Jim currently inhabited. You opened the door, looking back at Greg you yelled, “I’m a big girl dad, I can take care of myself.” You hear Jim chuckle as you close the door and sit down. “Hey man, how’s prison?” You ask, taking out a notepad and pen. He looked at you skeptically. “You’re going to take notes..?” He asked, annoyance evident in his voice. “Pff no! I’m not an idiot! I tend to doodle when I get bored.” You said, spinning the pen between your fingers. Slowly, he put his hands widespread on the table and stood up, leaning forward. “Is that a challenge...?” He asked, his tone dangerous. You mirrored him and held eye contact. “Damn straight.”

You were hanging out with Sherlock in his flat when the phone rang. After a few moments he hung up. “Not guilty?” You asked, following him to the kitchen. He hummed a response before putting the kettle on. You jumped to reach a high shelf and grabbed a box of biscuits. Sherlock snorted when he saw you. “Aw shut up long legs.” You grumbled, pulling a few biscuits onto a plate. You set them on the small table beside John’s chair as Sherlock picked up his violin. You picked up your copy of ‘IT’ and flopped onto the couch as you heard the stairs creak. “Most people knock.” You said, not looking up. “...But then again, you’re not most people... are you?” Sherlock asked, turning around. “Kettles just boiled.” Putting your book down at the mention of tea, you took in Moriarty’s appearance. He was wearing a nice white button up with matching grey pants and a blazer. He was also wearing a cool looking tie pin. “Johann Sebastian would be appalled” He said, picking up an apple out of the bowl that you had placed, his Irish drawl as prominent as ever. “May I?” He asked, tossing the apple up in the air and catching it again. “Please.” Sherlock said, using his violin bow to gesture towards John’s seat. Being the devil he was, Jim chose to sit in Sherlock’s seat instead, shooting a smirk in your direction. “You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his... pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end-“ Sherlock interrupted him. “The dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it.” He said, pouring tea. “Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody.” You and Jim said at the same time. He, once again looked over at you, a sparkle in his eye before Sherlock’s voice snapped him back to reality. “Neither can you, that’s why you’ve come.” Sherlock walked over to you and handed you a cup, which you took with a smile. “But be honest, you’re just a tiny bit pleased...” You hid your face with the teacup, silently hoping the boys wouldn’t pay much attention to you. “What with the verdict?” Sherlock asked, now handing Jim his tea. “With me-“ He said, a sly smile on his face. ‘Fuck... Stop being so hot!’ You thought. “Back on the streets.” Sometimes you wondered how he managed to sound so much like a snake. “Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” He said, staring up at Sherlock who had yet to sit down. “You need me,” He stated in a matter of fact tone. “Or you’re nothing... because we’re just alike; you and I. Except you’re boring... you’re on the side of the angels.” Sherlock ignored this and instead changed the subject. “Got to the jury of course.” Silently sipping your tea, you observed the two. It was like a scene from a TV show or something. “I got into the Tower of London, you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?” He asked as Sherlock finally sat down. “Cable network.” You said, just realizing it. Their attention was now turned on you as Jim began to explain. “Every hotel room has a personalized screen, and every person had their pressure point.” It felt like he was staring into your soul now. What he said had vaguely reminded you of Charles Magnussen, a blackmail extraordinaire that Mycroft had told you to stay away from. Naturally you learned everything you could about him. Real creep he was.

“Someone that they want to protect from harm...” At this, he turned to stare right at Sherlock, there was no doubt in your mind about what he was insinuating. “Easy peasy.” He said, taking a sip from his tea, your eyes automatically drifting over to his pink lips. “So how’re you gonna do it?” Sherlock asked, finally speaking, “Burn me?” He too brought his cup to his lips. “Eh that’s the problem...the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?” He asked, his voice light and detached. “What’s the final problem? I did tell you, but did you listen?” He taunted, ending his question in a sing song voice. Putting down his cup, he began to tap his fingers on his leg. You focused your attention on that. ‘Seems very familiar...’ You thought, storing the pattern away in your mind palace for further inspection at a later date. “How hard do you find it- having to say ‘I don’t know’?” Sherlock responded immediately with, “I don’t know.” You smirked, knowing that you would’ve said the same. “Oh that’s clever, very clever, awfully clever-“ Jim mumbled as Sherlock shot you a quick smile. “Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?” Jim asked, peaking your attention. “Told them what?” Sherlock asked, steapling his fingers. “Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.” Of course you already knew as well. “No.” He responded. “But you understand.” It was more of a statement than anything. “Obviously.” Sherlock responded. Jim turned his body to face you. “Do you?” He made eye contact. “Of course.” You said, trying to take the emotion out of your words. “Off you go then.” He took a bite of a piece of apple he had carved out. “You want me to tell you what you already know.” You said, putting down your tea. “No, I want you to prove that you know it.” He briefly gestured at you. “You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to.” You said, matter of factly. “Good...” He encouraged you to continue. “You’ll never need to take anything ever again.” Feeling more confident, you let yourself relax. “Very good... because..?” Jim went back to carving his apple. “Because nothing. Nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London, or Pentonville prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.” Sherlock looked over with what could have been interpreted as a proud look, before Jim started talking again. “I can open any door, anywhere, with a few tiny lines of computer code... No such thing as a private bank account now, they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy, I own secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king- and honey, you should see me in a crown...” He shot a quick wink at you before putting on a relaxed smile. “Twenty quid and I’ll get that tattooed.” You spoke up, breaking the tension Jim caused. He let out a little frown, knowing he lost Sherlock’s undivided attention. “Deal.” Sherlock said, tossing you his wallet. “Coolcoolcool, I’ll book the appointment.” You said, grabbing your laptop. “You were advertising throughout the trial, showing all the things you can do...” Sherlock observed, brining the tension back. “And you were helping. Big client list, rouge governments, intelligence communities, terror cells... they all want me... suddenly, I’m Mister Sex...” You stopped tyiping. “Ugh, amen!” You thought, but apparently you had said that out loud and they boys were giving you extremely opposite looks. Jim was smirking at you, his eyes wandering to who knows where and Sherlock was glaring at you. You cleared your throat, your face flushing bright red. “I’ll just- yea I’ll just leave- um, okay, bye. Don’t-“ You pointed at Jim, “Don’t kill anyone.” You slowly picked your laptop up and ran out the door.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Good Business: Part 11

Fandom: Marvel (Mob AU)

Pairing: Chubby!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a ruthless mobster. He’s also referred to as Big Buck due to his towering strong frame as well as his round stomach. You’re the owner of a small diner, a place that Big Buck decides to visit. Based off this drabble.

A/N: I know, I know. It’s been forever since I’ve updated! But here you go! I really hope people are still into this series...

As soon as Bucky approached the long driveway, your jaw dropped. It was a beautiful estate, two stories high but looked so wide that it probably had thirteen bedrooms!

Bucky chuckled at your state of awe and closed your mouth, “You’ll catch flies, sweet cheeks.” As soon as he parked the car, he hopped out of his seat and rushed over to your side, holding the door open and lending a hand out to help you. 

You kissed his cheek, “What a gentlemen,” and Bucky was beaming. 

“My girl deserves to be treated like a queen,” he says nonchalantly and offers his arm to you, “So, you ready?” 

You sighed, looking down at your dress to make sure nothing was out of place, “As I’ll ever be. Do I look okay?”

“Radiant.”

You rolled your eyes and nudging him, “Alright, smooth talker, let’s get this show on the road.” 

Bucky guided you up the pathway to his home, unlocking it with his keys. As soon as the door opened, he hollered, “Guys, I’m back!”

“Uncle Bucky!” two young boys ran towards him, wielding lightsaber toys. The smaller one with dark brown hair and blue eyes steps forward and points at the taller boy, “Andy refuses to die!”

Their uncle snorts, “Say what now?”

The other boy, you assumed to be Andy, rolled his eyes, “He knicked me with his saber and he thinks I should die because of it, but I want because it wasn’t a full on stab!”

You give Bucky an amused look and he shrugs, “Kids, am I right? Anyway, enough of the killing talk. Boys, this Y/N-”

“Your girlfriend?!” 

He chuckles, “Yeah, buddy. Now be polite and introduce yourselves.”

The older boy steps forward and offers his hand, “Hello, Y/N. I’m Andrew Proctor. I’m 8 and I wanna work for NASA when I grow up.”

The younger boy steps forward, “And I’m Matthew! You can call me Matty. I’m 6 and I wanna work with dinosaurs when I grow up.”

“Dinosaurs are dead, Matty,” Andrew says with an eyeroll. 

“It’s nice to meet you both. You two seem like very smart and fun young boys.”

“We are!” Matty says excitedly. 

Bucky wraps his arm around your waist and tugs you close, “Alright, fellas, go on. Gotta find your parents and grandparents.”

“They’re all in the kitchen. Nana was scolding the cook for not making mashed potatoes correctly,” Andrew and Matty snicker. 

Bucky groans and tugs you along, “Oh fun.” 

As you followed Bucky towards the kitchen, your eyes wandered to the architecture, art, and pictures hanging all over the place. With a squeeze of your hips, you look to Bucky whom was giving you that soft look in his eyes, “I’ll give you a tour of the place later. But right now, I need to make sure my ma doesn’t kill my cook.”

When you neared what you believed to be the kitchen, you can already hear muffled yelling. Bucky pushed the door open and there at the other end is an older woman looking to be in her 60s shouting at one of the cooks. But as soon as she spots Bucky, she stops.

“Oh, Jamie! You’re back!” her eyes then jump from him to you, “And you must be his girlfriend!”

She rushes over to you and before you introduce yourself, Bucky speaks up, “Now hold up, ma. I told you not to argue with the cooks.”

His mother scoffs, “For being professional cooks, they’re being pretty lousy at it.”

“Ma-”

“Winnie,” an older man, you assumed to be Bucky’s father, stood up and approached his wife, “we told you to leave them alone. Bucky brought these people in so you don’t have to stress about cooking. Now, as I requested before, why don’t you drink some wine and cool down,” he handed a full glass of wine to his wife and then offered a hand to you, “George Barnes and this,” he rest an arm around his wife’s shoulder, “is my darling wife, Winnifred Barnes.”

After you shook George’s hand, Winnie shook yours, “It’s wonderful to meet you, Y/N. I apologize for this and please, call me Winnie.”

You softly smiled at the older woman, “It’s not a problem, Winnie. You have a certain way of doing things and I respect that.”

George and Winnie moved to the side so a younger couple could step forward. The woman, you knew, was Becca, and she threw her arms around you, giving you a nice, tight hug, “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Y/N! Bucky would literally not shut up about you! He’s always like ‘Sweet cheeks this and sweet cheeks that’.” 

You burst into laughter at the impression while Bucky glared at her, “Bec-”

“Oh calm down. Don’t get your Gucci undies in a twist!”

The man beside her smiled shyly at you and waved, “H-Hi, Y/N. I’m Charles Proctor, Becca’s wife.”

You waved back at him with a polite smile, “Nice to meet you, Charles.” you can already see how different him and Becca are. 

Bucky clapped his hands together, “So, I think we should all head into the living room and let the cooks finish up here.” he went to grab for your hand, but Becca already pulled you with her towards the kitchen door and out to the hallway.

“Snooze, you lose!” Becca cried out and your laughter echoed off the walls. You already liked Becca. 

___________

“RAAAAH!” Andy and Matty yelled as they stabbed Bucky with their lightsabers in front of the fireplace. 

Bucky stumbled back, putting a hand on his chest, “Oh no! I’ve been slayed!” he falls to his knees, looking towards you, who’s sitting on a chair across from where he’s at, “Avenge me, sweet cheeks!” and then he falls to his “death” on the carpet. 

“HAAAH! VICTORY!” Andy yells and him and Matty dance around Bucky’s “dead” body while you and their family laugh. 

Matty pointed his saber towards you, “Now you gotta fight us, Y/N, to ‘venge Uncle Bucky’s death!”

You shook your head, “No way! I can’t beat you guys! You’re undefeatable!”

Bucky sat up with a playful pout, “You’re not even gonna fight for me, sweet cheeks?! How rude!” 

You rolled your eyes and waved him off, “Go back to playing dead.” While Bucky’s jaw dropped in offense, Becca threw her head back and laughed, “I really like this girl, Buck! You got a good one!”

You could feel your cheeks heating up and Bucky smiled, “I guess I did, despite her not wanting to avenge my death.” He stood up with a groan and pat his round belly, “I’m gonna check to see if the food’s almost done.”

You stood up along with him, “I’ll go with,” and followed him back to the kitchen. When you two were out of earshot, you asked, “How am I doing?”

Bucky twirled you around and kissed your lips, “Amazing. They really like you, Y/N.”

You let out a breath of relief, “That’s good to know. I’m really trying hard to be weird or disappointing or-”

“Hey,” he cupped your face in his larger hands, “I told you, just be yourself and they’ll love you.”

You stared into Bucky’s blue eyes and you couldn’t help the question that fell from your lips, “Do you love me, Bucky?”

His breathing hitched and, for a moment, he remained silent, but then he said, “I think I’m starting to,” and you felt your heart soar. 

 Good Business Taglist (CLOSED): @cametobuyplums @sergeantrosabellaswan @asadmarveltrashbag​ @youcanhaveyourspacecowboy​ @reniescarlett​ @j-the-smol-otter @buckysknifecollection @lowkeysebby @rinthehufflepuff @134340-cm @snoot-snoot-toot @seabassali1328 @bluebellhairpin @emzy106 @viarogers @feelmyroarrrr @vxidnik @jasura @jade-cheshire3303 @yknott81 @baliebay19 @jessieray98 @fandommemporiumm @iluvsumbucky @bucksandroses @lecoindenox @ylva-stark @booktease21 @nerdy-bookworm-1998 @cheyenne222222 @momobaby227

[fanficslutforsmut]

Mall time fun. Peter Maximoff (Evan Peters) PeterMaximoff/OC

(OK so I’ve been literally obsessed with Even Peters as Peter Maximoff and I cannot get over it so here’s a lil thing I was thinking off, I want to add more but I honestly don’t know how I feel so like lmk if I should keep this going into maybe a series)**************************

Being the daughter of a mutant with shapeshifting abilities was cool, but being the daughter of a shapeshifting mutant and a mutant that could teleport was even better, and the icing on top, having a twin.

Sometimes it was more of a nuisance, the shapeshifting mostly, it was harder to control. It was my downfall.

"You're doing it again." Jean looked back to the book she was reading.

"I know, oh god." I tried to smooth my hair down. "I just can't help it sometimes." I sighed.

"When are you going to let me see you, I wanna see the real you and you won't let me in there either." She poked my forehead.

"This is the real me," I said sternly, my confidence running slim. She huffed rolling her eyes.

"Whinnie are you coming with us? We're going to the mall." Kurt asked me, his tail swaying behind him as he walked. My eyes shifted to Jeans', she nodded.

"Sure, who's us though?"

"I am!" Scott yelled, jogging over to us, glasses shielding his eyes, and a grin covering the expanse of his face.

"You are what?" Peter was behind us now, his arms resting on the shoulders of Jean and me.

"Going to the mall, you can come if you want," Summers told him, smacking his hand off of Jeans' shoulder, making him falter on me just for a split second. The blush on my face was burning.

"Let's do it," Peter laughed, his arm stayed slung over my shoulder as the six of us, Peter and myself, Scott and Jean, and Kurt and another 'gifted youngster' I had never met.

"Jean, a little help here." Scott laughed as we got closer to the garage. It was Professor Hank that was walking past, completely unaware of us as he walked by. Jean using her ability to trick his mind into not even seeing us.

We laughed once Scott picked up some keys to a yellow convertible,  the seats filled quickly leaving only one left while Peter and I stood awkwardly.

"I can meet you guys there." Peter laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

"Don't be ridiculous, just lap up," Scott told him, ushering him. "Now hurry up before Professor X comes out here and we all get in trouble."

Peter hopped over the door, plopping down into the seat and I mentally cursed myself for wearing a skirt to match with Jean.

I tried to maneuver easily to sit with my back against the door, seated on Peter's thighs with my legs hanging off the side of his lap.

I'm sure not even my genetic mutation of being able to change my entire being or Jean's power to erase someone's memories would let me live down the bright red blush creeping up the flesh of my face, neck, and the tiny amount of my collarbones and chest you could see from the sweetheart cut of my shirt.

Scott peeled from the garage, speeding down the curved driveway and onto the road.

Instinctively Peter held onto my thigh as we lurched forward, catching me before I smacked into the headrest of Jean's seat.

"Thank you." I smiled, expecting his pale hand to retract, hoping at least. I wasn't going to able to help the way my skin reacted to his skin on mine.

The ride was filled with talks about a new movie coming out but I was too engrossed in studying the details of Peter's hand that was still on my leg. I had to bite my lip to keep my mutation under control.

"So where to first?" Scott asked as he threw the car into park. I shrugged, looking between everyone.

"Well, I want to go look at some clothes, come with me?" Jean asked Scott who, of course, just smiled and nodded his head at her.

"Kurt and I were thinking food court." The girl, I have yet to learn her name, announced.

"So just meet back here in like an hour?" Scott asked, we all nodded, filing out of the car. I had the help of Peter who held my hand, leading me up and over the door. I tried to contain my excitement.

By now we were left alone, walking through the doors of the mall as our friends had deserted us.

I had no doubts in my mind it had been a set up by Jean.

"Anything you want to do?" I asked, swaying my hands in front of me.

"If I'm being honest, which isn't that often," He paused to look at me and I laughed. "I wouldn't mind messing with Scott." He pointed off to the direction in which Jean and Scott were walking in.

"I'm in, what's the plan?" I had a few things in mind but they were more aimed towards Jean and not the poor sap.

"Well, I got this." Peter leaned against the wall holding up what I could only assume to be Scotts wallet. "And I was thinking we could switch it for Scott's."

"Wait who's wallet is that exactly?" I asked. Small hands snatching the worn leather.

"Holy. Oh my god, Peter how did you get this?" I asked, handing it back immediately after seeing Logans', or as most of us know him as 'The Wolverine', photo ID.

"I grabbed it when he was talking to Charles, he's like one of the only people I haven't been able to mess with." He looked so nervous, as the weight of what would transpire when the man found out he was robbed finally hit him.

"Okay," I looked around. "What's the plan stan?" The bubbling in my stomach continued to rise as he huddled closer to me to reveal his secret plan.

"Easy, we switch them and see what happens when we get back to the school." He chewed on a Twizzler that I hadn't even noticed before.

We followed Jean and Scott for a while, keeping far enough distance to not be on Jean's radar but just close enough to keep them insight.

"Ok so do you want a distraction?" I asked, pushing my hair behind my ears, as we hid behind a clothing rack.

Jean was looking between two different dresses while Scott admired her.

"Show me whatcha' got." Peter chuckled, ushering me. I thought of an older man I had seen walking into the mall, my body changing to match the picture in my mind. I walked out of the rack, clearing my mind for a second before I bumped into the unsuspecting couple in front of me.

"Watch it you hoodlum." I grouched at Scott, continuing to make my way past them. I walked out of the store and around the corner. Shifting through the crowd to convert back into my preferred body.

Trying so hard to contain my laughter at the thought of Scott's utterly bewildered look.

"Did you call them hoodlums?" Peter leaned against the spot next to me against the wall.  

"Was that too much? I was going for the 'I'm too old for this crap'. vibe."

"It was perfect, now we wait."

Peter and I had spent over an hour messing with Scott and then onto Jean but she was harder to do, as she often foiled our plans.

By the time we had met back up at the car, I was sitting on the boot of it, swinging my feet back and forth as Peter stood next to me, munching on some sweets.

"Do you know her?" I asked, pointing at the small girl next to Kurt as they walked towards us.

"Not really, I think her name starts with a J though," he told me in between mouthfuls.

I nodded, staring at the bright yellow jacket she wore.

"She's pretty." I liked how happy Kurt seemed at the moment, a fumbling mess, but happy.

"Who's ready to get home?" Scott yelled, racing Jean to the car.

Peter turned to me.

"I am so ready for this."

[allyvampirelass29]

Murder at Cripple Creek

A NOS4A2 Review By: Allyssa J. Watkins

A boomtown swimming with ghosts Dead eyes can't hide Their hedonist living Drinking, debauchery and sinning Scarlet ladies having babies But a whorehouse is not a home Trading flesh for coin Tempting patrons, at the sacrifice of your boy Little Charlie grew up in the hellish dark The sins of the mother Scarring the son's heart Murder brewing in this simmering fleshpot Oh Hateful Harlot, Mother Manx Is is to your neglect and bitter thanks Your baby boy, molested, and you can't protect Your little dreamer from the wicked world you wrought for him Blood on a beautiful boy's hands But the only thing murdered here Is his innocence. Sending his rapist and that lustful bitch Back to hell Charlie, Charlie you're not a villain You had to save yourself.......

Is...... anyone alive out there? It's been days, and I'm still sobbing, my heart desolated by the roiling emotional turmoil, my ignited rage murderous. I don't know about you guys, but...... I'm an absolute wreck. WHY are you DOING this to me, NOS4A2!?!? After the brilliant turn of last week, the sleek sophistication, and glamourous entrapment, "Cripple Creek," was a backhand strike, a blatant violation that I never saw coming, and I spent the entire episode, quivering, sobbing, pleading desperately behind my hands plastered over my face, watching between my fingers, helpless to stop the punishing abuse My Charlie suffers in two different timelines, his bruises of an abused childhood mingling with the fresh wounds of now, as he is tortured, beaten and berated by Bing Partridge!!!

I hated this episode. I HATED it. There, I said it. But I think you're supposed to, I think that was the sole purpose of this traumatizing ordeal. However, as far as Bing (GO TO HELL YOU FILTHY BASTARD) is concerned, the writer's motivation seems drastically convoluted. If this was supposed to be Bing's Big Epiphany, his "redemption," (Ughhh seriously?) This episode fails miserably in accomplishing that. And if this episode was meant to do, what I had predicted back in Season One, cement him as the actual villain of NOS4A2, making him the more immoral evil, be his rise in notoriety, his coming of age as it were, into the monster he was always going to be, giving Charlie and Vic someone to unite their hatred against, it fails to do that too. The biggest misstep of the series, after so elegant a triumph, I'm going to drown my sorrows in ice cream, and try to forget that any of it ever happened. Close your eyes, and think of Christmasland........

I audibly groaned when we opened onto Bing at the Lake House. After so much needless repetition in an otherwise FLAWLESS episode, I REALLY did not want to relive Bing's point of view of the siege, unless it was him getting shot by white knight Chris McQueen over, and over, and over........ Thankfully, the rewind didn't last too long, but I was having NONE of his, "Are you there, God, it's me, Bing Partridge," moment!!! On his knees in the graveyard, (Why...... why are we in a graveyard?) Bing appeals to the heavens, proclaiming his own innocence, asking God to show him what he should do next. I snickered coldly, the whole thing melodramatic, and absurd, as he cries, "I've been so good!!!" Secretly, I was fantasizing about Buffy SLAYING his creepster ass in the graveyard, beating him bloody, before staking him in the heart with a witty saying like, "It's been a gas, Bing, but I get the last laugh!!!" Alas, alack, no such luck. His appeal to the heavens was answered not in divine intervention, but with bird droppings splattering in his mouth, which of course, translated in Bing-A-Ling Logic to, "Kill the FIRST person that tries to help you, bury him in the freshly dug grave, and take his keys!!!" It's PRAYING Bing, you dolt, not preying!!!

While the side quest FINALLY explains how Bing was able to catch up to Charlie and Wayne, after previously believed to be on foot, not to mention shot, which would have been IMPOSSIBLE, supernatural car not withstanding, it's altogether unnecessary. It was the less than scenic route to get to last week's blood-curdling cliff hanger, and I really think we could have done without all the maudlin hullaballoo, and picked right up from there. Also, it creeped me out BIG TIME hearing Bing Partridge say, "Hidey holes," because that's what I called them last week, when Charlie was adorably telling Wayne about his hiding places. "Look at you with your hidey holes, Babe!!!" Needless to say, Bing has ruined that phrase for me FOREVER!!!

"Charlie, Charlie, telling lies, soon he will be crying cries......" A chilling foreboding that was like ice in my veins........ I was definitely crying cries...... I literally WEPT with this horrid little rhyme, and even still I was so naïve, unprepared, for the gut-churning horror that waited in the shadows of a broken little boy's murdered childhood, and the degradation of the beautiful soul that survived it. It's one of the most grueling, and disturbing things, I've ever watched, and like my Darling Boy, strapped to the chair, enduring forced interrogation by gassing, brutal beatings by Bing's homicidal, ham-fisted punches, and some....... deeply unsettling sexual innuendo, I felt like I was the one getting tortured.........

I did utterly enjoy Charlie's feigned relief, as he uses that silver tongue, in valiant effort, to slip his way out of this sickening predicament. "Bing, My Dear Fellow, thank the stars! I thought you had been done in by those wretched McQueens!!" Charlie gasps, thankfully, knowing full well he'd left Bing behind to die, and for good reason. Any other time, this would have worked, Charlie would have used his coaxing charm, and Bing's oafish gullibility, twisted them into a breathtaking manipulation, weaving the lie that he had no choice but to leave him behind, and Bing would have eaten it out of the palm of his hand, because he wants that badly for it to be true. But Bing watched it happen, his face falling, as Charlie sped off without him, and he's DONE playing. Charlie's pleas fall on deaf ears, as Bing drugs him for answers, revealing the fatalities of every single one of Charlie's former accomplices, and with the finality of one apocalyptic truth....... Bing descends into a frenzied, foaming madness.

"Cripple Creek," is the double edged sword that none of us were meant to survive. Switching between the stabbing scenes of Charlie's withering assault, his lifeline to The Wraith, cruelly severed, and the slicing violation of his childhood self, his innocence massacred before our very eyes, our bleeding hearts never stood a chance. I always knew that Charlie's childhood was going to be horrid, downright Dickensian, devoid of magic and light, unloved by his drunk, whore mother, but I had no idea the HELL this beautiful boy endured at so tender an age, forever scarred, betrayed by the one person he trusted, respected, desperately in need of a father figure, only to be exploited in the most heinous way. It's a MIRACLE My Precious Love can even function as an adult, much less still manage to find wonder and beauty in the world, clinging, clawing to hold onto his ember, his remnant of pure light that persevered in a life of darkness.

The inexplicable joy at seeing a young Charlie Manx, aged 11 or 12, tapdancing on stage, along with the giddy marvel that this young actor looks just like our leading man in miniature, is short-lived, as a stranger takes an uncomfortable interest in him....... I don't know how, maybe it was the intent way he watched him dance, or the way he touched his shoulder a little too long, but I knew........ I KNEW this man was going to sexually abuse Charles, I felt it gnawing in my stomach, instantly unnerved, and I hoped with all my heart, my first instinct was wrong....... I'm devastated to say........ it was not.

Not only does this manipulative pedophile Son of a BITCH molest my baby, he first uses him to persuade other boys to flock to his house, knowing full well how much the young ones look up to Charlie, as their leader. He wins Charlie's favour and trust by befriending him, and giving our little darling the one thing he wants more than anything else. Escape. Escape from the vulgar, gratuitously sexual environment, that no young boy should have to endure, a chance to make money, have an honest, respectable living. A chance to have a father figure, a man to look up to, learn from, and take him under his wing. The shop owner offers all of that, with a crooked smile, the charade falling dangerously away, as he knocks back a shot glass, eying our boy, and then says in the cruelest, most chilling voice. "You've earned yourself some fun........"

Thankfully, NOS4A2 was not overly graphic in this lewd portrayal, but the innuendo was enough to make me ugly cry, and seethe, as this sweet child is violated by someone he admires so much, realizing in horror, that he led all of his friends to be mishandled in this same disgusting manner, like lambs to the slaughter. But our brave little Manx was NOT going to let this sin go unpunished, and I clapped, cheering him on, as he uses his sled, now tainted by its means of acquisition, to kill the shopkeeper, dark fire flashing in his eyes, blood splattering on the shot glass, and I've never been so happy, or nervously relieved to see someone die.

His mother comes to him, and instead of crying, and taking her boy in her arms, stroking his dark curls, soothing his fear, and assuaging his guilt, she just scoffs at his accusation, the picture of apathy, and places the blame back on him. "You knew too, Charlie!!!" You WHORE-ABLE Mother!!! Your son was just sexually ASSAULTED, and YOU DARE make it his own fault, like he'd turned a blind eye, and therefore deserved to get raped!?!? Charlie might not have killed her, if she'd actually had a maternal bone in her body, if she'd done SOMETHING, shown any sign of regret or compassion, but she doesn't, and I feel nothing but proud as he finishes her off too. Her death was surprising, given the admonishing way Charlie talks about his mother, creating the impression that she'd been a bane on his existence his entire life, and yes, as a writer, I wanted to see more of a direct conflict between them to make that defining moment that much more satisfying, but as a viewer, I was just grateful she was dead, and Charlie was free. The only murder perpetrated, the only death I mourned at Cripple Creek, was that of Charlie's innocence, his childhood slaughtered.

Meanwhile, Bing continues to torture Charlie in the present day, my chest shuddering with every thrown punch, and I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. What was the deafening truth spoken that sends Bing Partridge into a flailing rage, you ask?

"Christmasland is for children. We are special...... That's why we can't go......."

Charlie was never going to take Bing to Christmasland. All that this poor dope had lived for, dreamed of, for eight years, amidst his conning his way into dentists' offices, and offing mothers, and it was always a lie. I had suspected it the entire time, especially after the mention of a, "special feast," but what SHOCKED me the most, was the unimaginable heartbreak of Charlie's own deepest secret coming to light, and as Bing draws it forth, it's like drawing blood. In spite of being the architect of his lifelong dream, and greatest solace from a life full of abject misery, Charlie doesn't think he deserves Christmasland, because he sees himself as ruined........

I broke down sobbing, that pain, that anguish, that he's so long carried with him, ripping through me, and I'm tearing up even as I write this, remembering....... Charlie denying himself his own dream, seeing himself as a ruined article that might profane its pure vision, is a tragedy that I can't come back from. It's a sorrowful, aching confession, and yet somehow it explains so much, and in this, his greatest pain, his darkest secret, I felt intimately closer to him. At last........ we see why Charlie never stays long in his Christmas kingdom, why he's so focused on the next child, and the next, sacrificing time with his own daughter, because they deserve Christmasland, and he doesn't. Always the courier, never the partaker. Christmasland is for children, and Charlie Manx never got the chance to be one.

The searing pains of his past still guide so much of who he is today, placing a strict emphasis on propriety in every aspect of his person, in manner, speech, and dress, because he was robbed of his dignity as a child. I also, FINALLY, after two seasons, understand why he turns the children into vampires, a contradiction to his love of them, that has remained frustratingly elusive to my grasp. Charlie's childhood was taken from him, brought to a vulnerable, violent end, and by turning the Lost Children, theirs becomes eternal. They never have to grow up, and lose that purity, that innocence. I also realized, that by giving them their bite back, they are able to defend themselves, meaning no one can ever hurt them again.......

There was so much awful going on, so much inflicted misery, and disorienting chaos, that I was sure I'd heard wrong when Bing decides on an even more dehumanizing method of torture. Did Bing just...... call Charlie a BITCH!? I shook my head, but there it was again, and at this point I'd HAD it. Somebody give me a GUN, I will WASTE this SICK BASTARD myself!!! The skeevy sexual threat against Charlie felt like overkill to me, utterly ridiculous, a cheap shot at adding dramatic effect, especially in the face of his childhood shame. Bing has exhibited absolutely no inclination of...... swinging that way, as it were, before, and yeah they kind of threw in last minute that he'd done this to Mike's father, offscreen, but I don't know WHY he would do that, especially given his particular affinity for Mike. Charlie, himself, pointed out that there was no indication in the Graveyard of What Might Be that Mike needed saving, or that his father deserved punishing. It's awkward, and disturbing, and there seemed to me no method in this madness.

"If I'm a monster....... who deserves to die....... You deserve so much worse." BAM. Hell yeah, Babe!!! Thank GOD, Charlie's quick enough to convince Bing that he too is a monster, and we are spared any further asinine innuendo. Bing, after these series of unfortunate events, beating, berating, and threatening Charlie with rape, suddenly, deus ex machina-esque has a change of heart, and an epiphany that comes a LOT TOO LATE!!! We're both monsters, we BOTH deserve to die....... What we're doing is WRONG. Was I happy when Bing urged Wayne to go, and tell a police officer that his mom is Vic McQueen? Yes. Do I believe he did it out of the goodness of his heart, and has finally seen the light? Freaking HELL NO!!! Bing, after losing Christmasland, has nothing left to live for, and this is his way of giving up. If I can't go to Christmasland, Wayne can't go...... and he decides a bizarre murder/suicide in The Wraith is his final act of redemption.

Before they even showed the car crusher, I was already sobbing profusely, losing my freaking mind, because I had figured out exactly where Bing had taken Charlie.

"There's going to be two less monsters in the world........"

Meaning to crush them both, and kill the Wraith irrevocably, Bing puts on his mask, and presses the button. At first Wayne laughs, and thinks it's a game, his inner vampire child coming out, but when it hits him that Charlie's in actual danger, he realizes he has a choice to make....... Save Charlie Manx, or let him die, and go home safe to his Mom and Lou.

"No, My Boy, this isn't a game, it's time to play, Save Father Christmas!!!"

Charlie calls out frantically, coaxingly to his young charge, and I loved that so much, my heart overwhelmed with emotion. Yes, Wayne, PRETTY PLEASE save Father Christmas!!! A lot of people despised him for what happened next, screaming at Wayne for his choice, even calling him a stupid kid, but I, myself, felt even more love in my heart for that already dearly cherished little lad, as he smiles, and slams down on the button, halting the crusher, and saving Charlie from imminent death.

It's a profound moment, the abductee choosing to save his kidnapper's life, and many cried out strongly against it, but you have to understand....... Charlie Manx has become so much more to Wayne than the scary face in his mother's paintings. Here is a man that has shown genuine interest in his life, his hopes, his dreams, who has treated him gently, fussed over him, concerned, and who has come to love him like a father. Couple that with The Wraith's effects on Wayne, slowly tying the two of them together, it makes perfect sense to me, how this unexpected bond has formed. Yes, had Vic been there, herself, he would have chosen her over Charlie in a second, but when faced with the reality of letting Charlie die, our tender-hearted Bats just couldn't do it.

"Do think of me at Christmastime, won't you?"

CHARLIE. LIKE. A. BOSS!!!! The single greatest moment, and brightest scene in an hour of plunging darkness, is definitely Charlie, snapping back into his delectably dark, unrivaled perfection (although, I must say I still found him incredibly dashing in his distinguished grays) charging Bing Partridge, murder striking in his wild, smouldering eyes, stabbing him, with a reveling whisper, twisting the knife, with this most PERFECT line, that gave me wonderous, reverberating chills!!! I also LOVED how Charlie glowers in his lumpy face and says, "You were never special." DAMN that's HOT!!! My only grievance with an otherwise ENTHRALLING moment, was that inexplicably, yet again, CHARLIE DIDN'T KILL BING!!! Charlie has KILLED for so much less, and while he did offer a vague explanation about prison being so much worse for Bing than hell, it felt like hell frozen over that Charlie would ever let Bing live. I know this is the writers wanting to keep Bing around to creep another day, but MY GOD, hang that Partridge from a pear tree, and HAVE DONE already!!!!!

This was an especially dark episode, but there were flashes of some really beautiful, albeit fleeting moments, first with Wayne and Craig, and then with Millie and Cassie, though the reoccurring theme, the common thread, did seem to be Innocence Lost. I was startled with the The Wraith's sneaky trick of causing a child to forget their parents the longer they are in the car, and BLESS YOU, Craig for helping your son remember his mother, and fight the transformation!!! He tells Wayne that Vic's favourite movie was Jaws, and Wayne tells him that her favourite holiday is the 4th of July. (Which is really cool, because it's my favourite too!!!) This slows the Wraith's effects on Wayne, and becomes a very special moment between father and son, as they fight to keep Vic's memory alive.

"How do you know my mom?"

"She was my best friend."

More overwhelmed sobs, because apparently I haven't cried enough this episode!!! Craig decides not to tell Wayne that he's his father, but our little Bats is ingeniously clever, and I think he's going to figure it out before long!!! Another mini heart attack comes with a second lost tooth. The suspense of Wayne's slow turning, mirroring the tender emotion in this scene was fantastic.

Millie and her mother have a similar moment, and I thought that was BRILLIANT of her to introduce Vampire Millie to her former human self. The two play with dolls, and human Millie talks about how she can't wait to go on a date, and have adventures when she grows up! It's such an endearing scene, and also incredibly sad, as the pale, gaunt shell of Vampire Millie envies her bright, and bubbly human counterpart, seeing the hope and innocence that she's so long been bereft of. "She's me...... Who I'm supposed to be." Cassie explains that her father's sad fantasy is depriving Millie of the gift of growing up, and explains that there's nothing Charlie Manx fears more than a woman with her own mind, and that's the LAST thing he wants his beloved daughter to become. A woman that would eventually leave him. More tears. Poor Millie. Poor Charlie!! Can I just give everybody a hug!?

"Cripple Creek," lingers like BAD Dream, and all I want to do right now, is curl up with Charlie Manx, hold him in my arms, stroke his cheek, soothe him with the tenderest hands, and softest words, tell him he's beautiful, and that he deserves Christmasland, and the world, that he's not ruined, but PURE!!! This was my least favourite episode in the entire series, and just like, "The Gas Mask Man," will be skipped indefinitely in the re-watch, but like I said, it endeared Charlie even more to my heart, and I feel fiercely protective over him, over that goodness that still glows in his dark eyes, despite lifetimes of feeling unloved, and in ever-present pain. All I ever wanted in Season One, was a glimpse into the past that crafted my mysterious and refined vampire chauffeur, and this entire experience, My Darlings, is an exercise in, "Be Careful What You Wish For..........."

[stardatewiththedevil]

Fine, humans, fly your “starship”

I knew that having to start my stardate-order journey with Enterprise*, which I had never made it more than 20 minutes into before, would be a challenge. But my first foray into 22nd-century Starfleet is leaving me with more questions than answers.

To recap

Earth has a ship capable of Warp 5, but the Vulcans have told them they can’t use it yet. Our hero Jonathan Archer’s dad invented it, but died before he could see it put into use. The Enterprise NX-01 has been collecting dust for 50 years. But when a farmer shoots a stray Klingon, humans finally have the right excuse to ask their Space Daddies for a hall pass!!!!!

The humans of 22nd-century Earth, at least the high-ranking space boys we observe, are cavalier and impulsive, really into some cowboy shit. While it makes sense the Vulcans wouldn’t want Earthlings drunkenly stomping through the galaxy fresh off world unification, it’s pretty surprising that none of these fuckers went rogue and zoomed off into space. But instead they seem to mostly throw tantrums and then ultimately fall in line.

But this time, they throw the correct tantrum! The Vulcans want to kill the unconscious Klingon so he dies with honor, even though he has some kind of message to deliver to his people. They also want to delay a planned launch of the Enterprise over the incident. Archer has had enough and demands that not only are they NOT allowed to kill the Klingon, they have to let him, specifically him, return him to Kronos in the ship nobody has flown yet.

Daddy Vulcan says “ok, but come STRAIGHT home after dropping off the Klingon.” (Spoiler: They don’t!!!!!!)

Charming!

It is literally the first time launching this advanced Warp 5 ship and they’re doing it early, but nothing really goes wrong, hardware-wise, despite what appears to be a reckless lack of testing. Most of the adjustments they’re making are like, adjusting the TV and calibrating weapons arrays.

Everyone seems way too chill with this idea of going extremely fast out in the middle of space where no humans have gone yet. Except Hoshi Sato, Bless you, Hoshi, our queen of having normal feelings.

Up until this point, humans have only been hitting Warp 2, or eight times the speed of light. They’ve also been in contact with the Vulcans for almost a century. Some space travel is in service of colonization (e.g., settling on Mars). But the biggest, longest trips are on freighters, spending sometimes literally years on trade routes within 90 light years of Earth (more than 11 human years away!). As a Warp 5 ship sits docked in Earth’s orbit, children are born and raised on trade routes. (These kids are called “boomers”! I thought they just meant extremely old people or time travelers the first time they said it!)

Still, people are pretty used to being in space and visiting other planets, and have been for 50 years or so. But the Vulcans are maybe the only society present in this sector that have any mobility beyond that—so they’re holding everyone’s hand, handing out learner’s permits, basically doing a very gentle imperialism. This is a foreign policy I will from here on out call the Daddy Doctrine.

Also, the Big Bad this season appears to be... Zordon?

Meet the Spacepeople

Our captain this time around is Jonathan Archer, and everyone definitely knows who his daddy is. He invented the ship! When Starfleet finally launches said ship, some admiral praises the Starfleet nepotism that led to this grown child being in charge of an infinite number of first contacts, despite him losing his cool in front of the Space Daddies.

They’re going to have to talk to Klingons, so Archer taps Hoshi Sato, a genius human linguist and the only human to speak Klingon. She teaches other people to speak Klingon! But she has trouble translating some Klingon word salad almost immediately. Oh well! That said, Sato is one of two characters I can confidently say I like at this point. She has very normal human emotions about stuff like “being very deep in space on an untested ship.”

T’Pol is a hot lady Vulcan who was part of the deal for the humans to take the car keys, but she says she’s not there to babysit. She never really babysits, but people seem surprised when she doesn’t babysit, anyway. She first appears onscreen as the youngest member of the Vulcan Daddy Cabal by a long shot.

Charles “Trip” Tucker III is Archer’s best friend and seems kinda fratty, the kind of guy that really seems like someone you’d call Trip.

Our zany character on this starship is Phlox, a Denobulan doctor who loves animal testing. Denobulans are from the planet Surplus Cardassian Prosthetics.

Travis Mayweather is a Boomer and I think I like him. His confidence is earned. As an experienced spaceman, he knows that setting the ship to .8 g makes for a pretty pleasant environment, and that does sound nice.

I know Star Trek doesn’t like to acknowledge any cultural accomplishments between the year 1930 and 2100, but I feel like Malcolm Reed is a They Might Be Giants fan. Also, he’s British.

Porthos is a beagle. He smells. I like him.

This is on my desktop as “space beagle.jpg” and someday I will delight in finding this again

This Fucking Ship

When crewmembers are reboarding, they have to pass through a decontamination chamber, which is fully a hostile work environment. The decontamination chamber forces crewmembers in a room together, where they are forced to spread goo on each other under ultraviolet light like a sexually aggressive sunscreen.

We see the decontamination chamber in the first episode, and it’s basically an excuse to show some HBO After Dark shit under some expository dialogue. Tucker—that’s the guy named TRIP—takes the liberty of applying gel underneath the waist of T’Pol’s underpants for her. It is gross. (And how does the gel even work if you leave your underwear parts un-gelled???)

To be fair, Trip’s chest gets a lot of focus, too. The whole scene is shot like a Bodman Fragrance Spray commercial.

I don’t intend for these to always be this long, or episode by episode, but I just started and I have A LOT OF FEELINGS. And I didn’t even GET INTO the hot shapeshifting lady that lived for about five minutes, long enough to kiss Archer because that’s how she “senses trust.” Some real TOS shit.

*I was thinking of doing a watch order that included two watches of First Contact, but I have made my bed and now I need to lie in it for 200 years.

**Special thanks to my Star Trek chos for helping me work through some fundamental lore stuff.

[demaury]

boys online. chapter 2. (social media influencers au)

7916. 124. 10. These are the numbers that define Eliott and Lucas’ relationship, either they want it or not. 7916 kilometers between them, from Paris to Vancouver. 124 days since they first said ‘I love you’ last spring. And nearly 10 hours, until… well, until they meet for the first time. (ao3)

MANON CHATON

vu aujourd’hui à 20:34

i'm so in love

fuck what’s happening to me

😂

i get that you found eliott

i was getting a little worried here

it’s been literally five minutes!!!

sure, jan

so that means your flight landed somewhere in poland

because you should have arrived a whiiiiile ago if you were in paris 😏😂

i was taking five minutes to make-out with my bf

i bet you did 👀

is he a good kisser at least?

the best

i'm so whipped

you’re so whipped

but it’s cute

“Missing home already?”

Lucas looks up from his phone and cranes his neck just as Eliott slides in the seat next to him, carefully setting the two Styrofoam cups he just retrieved from the barista on the table. They’re waiting for the cab Lucas ordered after Eliott showed up and Starbucks seemed like the better option they had at the moment — at least once they stopped sharing oxygen and saliva long enough to get behind that idea.

“Not a fucking chance,” he grins as he locks his phone. He leans closer into Eliott’s personal space and the smile his boyfriend gives him back turns the cheekiest comments he can ever come up with into wobbling knees and fluttering stomach. “Thank you,” he says, punctuating it with a peck on Eliott’s lips.

He proceeds to grab his part of their order while Eliott settles more comfortably next to him — and, Lucas notices, even closer. “I received the text from the company, they said our car should be waiting for us at 9,” Eliott says, checking the text as he speaks. “We should probably get ready to take the commute soon I guess.”

“Guess so, yeah.” Lucas stretches his arms high above his head and scrunches up his face. “I’m beat, the flight was so long.”

It’s been two years since he last came to France, and damn has he forgotten how boring spending nearly ten hours in a plane was. After his parents’ divorce he had only come back a handful of times, generally to spend a few days in Nice with his paternal grandmother when his dad was in the mood to bother forcing him to do stuff, so it wasn’t like he was really used to making 8h+ flights abroad. Mostly he knows he should be thankful because there’s been no assholery behavior and no crying baby or tantrum-y kid.

“Can’t wait to see these eyes without the bags underneath,” Eliott teases, pocking to his cheek playfully.

Lucas bats his hand away just for the sake of it, but it’s not harsh and Eliott knows him too well to even question. “Well, sorry for you, but the bags are rooming with me,” he huffs. “I tried to stay awake last night to sleep during the flight. Worked tremendously, as you can see.”

“They are nice bags,” Eliott decides, shrugging slightly. “I could get used to it, they make your eyes pop in the end.”

Lucas tilts his head to the side, cocking an eyebrow. “You didn’t sound so sappy over FaceTime, I feel lied to,” he says, playing with his cup nonchalantly. “Now I wonder what else is different.”

Eliott seems to ponder his answer, and Lucas stares, obvious and unapologetic. It’s not a big reveal that his boyfriend is even more beautiful in person than he already is in pictures, and it still amazes him even after all this time and an entire day spent obsessing over it that one day they met as friends, last April. Eliott had a family member getting married somewhere near Calgary and it was just too good of an opportunity to miss it. Right after the wedding Eliott had hopped in a plane for Vancouver and they had spent the day hanging out and touring around Vancouver. Well, Eliott had toured around Vancouver. Lucas, for his part, had mostly followed and occasionally taken his eyes away from Eliott long enough to gesture at some place.

“You’re right,” Eliott says, sounding awfully serious. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something that might affect our relationship, but I need to get it off my chest so that you can be prepared.”

Lucas isn’t sure where he’s going with it, but Eliott shifts on his chair to face him without looking like he’s waiting for an answer. His grey eyes meet Lucas’, deep and serious, and it takes Lucas most of his willpower to keep his mind on tracks, when all he wants to do is reach out and touch that perfect jawline of Eliott’s.

“I’ll be the sappiest of the saps,” Eliott declares, ignoring when Lucas bursts out laughing. “I have my boyfriend in town for two small weeks, so you better be ready for all the cheesiness in the world because I fully intend to make the most of it,” he concludes.

Lucas shifts too, facing him. “So that’s not our first date?”, he asks, faking surprise.

“In a Starbucks coffee?” Eliott scoffs. “Please, I have standards. I was just desperately trying to give you a caffeine boost to keep you up on your two feet.”

Lucas cocks an eyebrow. “The cheesiest boyfriend in the world wouldn’t mind picking his boyfriend up, just saying.”

“You want me to do that?”, Eliott deadpans, cocking an eyebrow too.

“Jesus, no,” Lucas huffs a laugh, shaking his head, and Eliott joins him.

He doesn’t really know why he freaked out some 24h ago, when everything seems as simple as it should be. They’re easily navigating between banter and cutesy declarations, and it’s something Lucas always dreamed of finding in a boyfriend. Eliott reaches out, his fingers threading through Lucas’ hair.

“We should get going,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on Lucas’ lips. “Last thing I want is so miss our commute and end up dragging my sleepy boyfriend all the way out.”

Lucas snorts, taking a sip from his coffee. “I’m not a child, I’ll let you know. I can stay awake one more hour.”

*

Lucas doesn’t stay awake one more hour.

Which is totally fine, if you ask Eliott. They’ve been in the car for roughly fifteen minutes when Lucas’ head falls on his shoulder, pretty eyes closed and his grip loosening ever so slightly around Eliott’s fingers.

“Jetlag doesn’t forgive,” the taxi driver says, sententious, as he peeks in the rear-view mirror halfway through a story involving electric bikes. “Where are you guys coming from?”

“He lives in Canada,” Eliott replies, and it’s still a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that this reality, them together in the same town, isn’t one that is meant to last. “I live in the 11e though.”

His attention drifts away as the driver manages to find another topic of conversation involving Eliott’s area of Paris, focusing instead on the soft patterns he traces with his fingers on the inside of Lucas’ wrist. At this point, the only thing keeping Eliott from reaching for his phone to snap a selfie of them both is that he doesn’t have the heart to take either of his hands away from a sleepy Lucas. Hear him out, he can tear his eyes away from him, it’s just that he gets to hear Lucas laugh and smile and angrily venting when things don’t go the way he wants them to go, but sleep is something he’s never been able to witness. And, like, Eliott is completely, utterly in love with Lucas but he knows by now that he can be a real pain in the ass when he wants to be — so seeing him soft and cute like that, he’s not ready to pass on it just yet.

The road from the airport isn’t all that long, given the general state of the Parisian traffic, and when they get to rue Dangeau, where Lucas’ hotel is situated, it’s been around forty minutes since they left Roissy-Charles-de-Gaulle. The sleeping arrangement got him thinking, when they were planning Lucas’ trip to France, because they had been together for less than three months, and the last thing he wanted was for Lucas to feel pressured about anything. Granted, it had taken him less time to lose his virginity to Lucille when they were younger, but it doesn’t mean it’s a race either. His boyfriend was still 17 back then, and Eliott distinctly remembers worrying a whole night about all the things he could possibly say that could send the wrong message whatsoever. The good side is that ever since he managed to man the fuck up and confess his feelings to Lucas, things have been (mostly) easy to navigate between them and Lucas has (mostly) been on the same page — he said he didn’t want to rush things either, but simply because they deserved to make things ‘the right way’, which is still a fair point, albeit a bit different. In the end they have both agreed to the hotel thing, and the more thoughts Eliott puts into it, the more natural it felt.

He releases Lucas’ hand as the car parks just across the street on a delivery spot, and it gets him to stir and mumble. “Note to self,” he groans as Eliott unbuckles his seatbelt, rubbing his eyes from his hand, “coffee doesn’t hold a candle to a nine-hour jetlag.”

“Will you manage to walk inside or do I have to pick you up?”, Eliott enquires, barely biting back a smirk.

Lucas squints his eyes. “Look at you making fun of me.” He pouts, and he unbuckles his seatbelt before sliding out through the door he chucked open. “I’ll manage, since you’re so nice to ask.”

Eliott snorts and hops off through his own door while Lucas retrieves his luggage from the driver. The man greets them warmly before getting back in and driving away. The hotel Lucas picked isn’t particularly fancy, it’s actually one of those hotels you’d walk by without really noticing. Despite being three floors high, it’s squeezed between a flower shop and a restaurant selling kebabs, in a narrow one-way street, but Eliott is almost surprised by how comfy it feels as soon as they push past the door of the lobby. Lucas goes to retrieve the key to his hotel room, and he allows himself a moment to check his phone in the meantime, but there’s nothing there that requires his undivided attention like his boyfriend does. A couple of notifications and texts from his friends that he puts on hold for the time being, when Lucas makes sign for him to join as he’s climbing upstairs.

“Home sweet home,” Lucas sighs, dropping himself flat on the bed as soon as they get in.

“It’s a nice hotel,” Eliott observes thoughtfully, closing the door behind him. “And at least you aren’t far from my place.”

Lucas props himself back up on his elbows. “It’s still too far,” he complains.

Eliott snorts and shakes his head. “It’s really not. And you’re literally on automatic pilot now, you need to sleep.”

“I know that.” Lucas pauses. “I just- I don’t know, I just want you to stay. Here. With me.”

“But we agreed that we would take it slow,” Eliott says, frowning a little.

“Of course, yes,” Lucas replies quickly, and Eliott isn’t sure but he thinks Lucas might be blushing. “But I want cuddles.” And he goes on, raising his arms and making grabby hands in his direction.

Eliott takes in Lucas’ tired eyes, his pouty lips, his messy hair and his grabby hands, and it’s not even that he feels himself cave in, because he had already stopped fighting himself the moment Lucas first asked, but there’s literally not a single good reason for him to leave this hotel room now. The first thing he does, before answering even, is kicking off his shoes, then he looks back up and Lucas’ grin is worth everything in the world.

“Let’s cuddle then,” Eliott says.

As soon as he plops down next to him, Lucas immediately drags him in a laying position and worms his way between his arms.

*

Having a sleeping boyfriend in bed he’s trying not to wake up is something Lucas isn’t quite used to, in complete honesty. Jake was his first relationship after he came out, and it hadn’t lasted three full months, so it’s not like he really managed to make his marks as a not-single guy. Point is, disentangling himself from Eliott’s arms has been surprisingly stressful, and he hates his bladder for forcing him out of his living safety blanket, but he hates his brain even more for making him stare pointlessly at an invisible spot for about an hour before that.

Jetlag is a fucking bitch, he thinks grumpily as he closes the lid and flushes the toilet, motioning to the sink to wash his hands. There’s a mirror hanging off the wall above the basin, and the glance he spares it isn’t really helpful. He literally has red circles on top of the black ones now, and it makes a weird Halloween-ish look with his blue eyes — which he’s positive isn’t attractive in any part of the world.

He retrieves his phone from the nightstand on his side of the bed, eyes squinting when he unlocks it, after padding as quietly as possible out of the bathroom and trying desperately to remember how the furniture is displayed so that he doesn’t end up splitting his knee open in the frame of the bed on his way.

“Lucas?”

Eliott’s sleepy voice makes Lucas startle stupidly and he smiles sheepishly in the ray of light emanating from his phone. “Yeah, I’m here.”

There’s a pause and Eliott motions some more in the bed, rubbing his eye from the heel of his hand. He’s wearing his tee-shirt from yesterday and his black briefs are peeking out from where the comforter is thrown back. “Is it morning already?”

“Nah, I just went to the bathroom. Sorry for waking you up.”

Eliott frowns and nods. “Oh. Right. Aren’t you coming back?”

“I can’t sleep,” Lucas admits. “I’ll probably just toss and turn.”

Eliott props himself up on an elbow. “It’s fine. Come here,” he says, voice still a bit rough from sleep and hair a little messier than usual. “We can watch a movie or something.”

Lucas huffs a chuckle. “Eliott, it’s 2.30 in the morning, go back to sleep.”

“So what, I don’t get to have cuddles at 2.30?”

Lucas stares, taken aback. “Fuck, of course you do,” he says, practically throwing his phone on the nightstand as he hops in the bed, and just like that the room is pitch-black all over again. “Let’s keep the movie for another time though.”

They don’t quite cuddle, not like they were before Lucas got up, and not like they were when they first fell asleep. They’re merely facing each other, Eliott’s arm snaking its way around his waist, gentle and light as they pull him just a tiny bit closer.

“It’s fine,” he says, tracing circles on Lucas’ side. “We can just talk.”                

Lucas slides an arm under his head, looking in the direction of Eliott’s voice, almost as if he could make out his features in the night, were he trying hard enough. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” his boyfriend whispers, and Lucas feels him shrugging slightly. “What’s the first thing you could think about asking me?”

Lucas ponders the question. Objectively there’s still a whole bunch of things he would want to know about Eliott, simply because he wants to know everything there’s to know, but there’s something intimate and unique about being with him like this, his attention undivided. They have nowhere else to be, no one else to bother them, not a single kilometer between them. It’s just them, in this moment, and he feels emboldened enough to ask: “When did you know you had feelings for me?”

There’s a silence, and Eliott’s fingers stop their gentle dance on his side. “It doesn’t really depict me IN a good light,” Eliott admits.

“C’mon on, tell me,” Lucas says, wriggling a tad closer. “I know it was when you were still with Lucille, you told me that already.”

“Alright,” Eliott says. “The exact moment, uh?” Lucas nods, even if Eliott can’t see it. “I was having sex with Lucille.” Another silence. “I thought about you to finish.”

Oh. Well, he can’t say he’s feeling bad, which he’s simultaneously certain is the opposite of the reaction he should be having. Probably because his boyfriend did not mentally cheat on him while they were having sex.

“I told you, it doesn’t really make me the perfect boyfriend after that,” Eliott mumbles.

Lucas shakes his head, mostly for himself, and he reaches out to run his hand up Eliott’s arm. “Actually, I think you’re doing really great so far.”

“So far, uh?” Eliott muses.

“Yes. So far. Your turn.”

Eliott takes a second to think. “Why did you date Jake if you weren’t all that interested in him?”

“It doesn’t really make me a Saint either.”

The fingers are back to grazing his side through the material of his shirt. “I think I’ll handle it. I think I already know, in fact.”

Lucas drops his gaze, uselessly, he knows, but it’s a reflex he can’t help. “I was in love with you,” he admits. “You had gotten back with Lucille. It was, like, the third time it was happening in the short time we had known each other, I just thought there’d never be a place for me in your life.”

It feels strangely liberating to get it off his chest. It’s not the biggest secret of his life, and it’s not his most bitter moment either. But going back to these few months, where Eliott had managed to occupy so much space in his life all the while being still so out of reach, it still makes his heart clench a little on instinct — like the vague memory of a physical pain.

“The tables turned,” Eliott says and Lucas smiles.

“Kind of, yeah.”

Eliott pulls himself closer, and Lucas shifts a little, welcoming his boyfriend’s frame in his arms as Eliott nestles his face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so happy to have you with me,” he whispers.

*