#still got two classes moving and a full time job to do while all of this is happening 🙃

[pandora15]

life is cruel.

it's tragic, horrific, and unfair. it gives us the worst of things, causes us to feel and experience things that are so unspeakably painful that sometimes I can't even. I can't even.

and it seems even more cruel in those moments of pain and grief and loss when you see something beautiful, like fall colors, or the color of the sky at sunset, or how the holidays typically are meant to bring joy to people but all you can think about now is that every year when this time of year comes, you'll just think about how tragic it is.

and cruel.

and horrific.

and unfair.

and beautiful.

[willowsnook]

Wouldn't have it any other way

rye with salami, ranch, and mikes way please and thank you! (idk if i did that right, i've never done this before)

jack hughes x reporter!reader

she isn’t you

——————————————————

Working as a reporter covering the NHL was a childhood dream of yours that came true. You worked your ass off in college, having internships each summer which led to an opportunity at ESPN that turned full-time after you graduated. You were ecstatic when they moved you to New Jersey to cover the Devils. It had been six months and so far you had gotten along well with all the players…well except one.

“Ya we got whacked two games in a row, so the last thing you want to do is stand and talk in front of you guys,” Jack Hughes told the small group of reporters crowding his locker, you included. You rolled your eyes which didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say, sweetheart?,” he said, eyes honing in on you.

You felt your cheeks flush with anger at his condescending tone. "It's our job to ask questions, Hughes. If you can't handle that, maybe you should find a new career."

The locker room fell silent, all eyes darting between you and Jack. His jaw clenched, eyes narrowing as he stepped closer.

"And maybe you should find a new team to cover if you can't handle a little attitude," he shot back.

The tension was palpable. You'd butted heads with Jack since day one, his arrogance rubbing you the wrong way. But this felt different, more charged.

"I can handle you," you replied, holding his gaze. "Question is, can you handle the heat when you're not performing on the ice?"

A collective intake of breath from the other reporters. Jack's eyes flashed dangerously.

"That's enough," the Devils’ PR manager said, ushering the reporters out of the locker room. You shot Jack one last glare as you followed the rest of the pool out. You knew you were going to get your ass chewed by your boss but you couldn’t help it. Jack was infuriating.

Unfortunately, your phone rang the second you were out of the arena and you listened to your boss rant at you. The moment was apparently already blowing up on social media and it was not a good look for you or Jack really. Half of the internet said you were too young to be in your job and wildly unprofessional while the other half defended you, calling Jack a dick who needs to respect women. There was another weird fan side of hockey twitter that were now actively shipping the two of you together, claiming it could be a perfect enemies-to-lovers story.

—————————————————————-

Headphones in, you watched workers out the window as they loaded luggage onto your plane. New Jersey to Vancouver was a long flight so you had splurged, upgrading yourself to first class to try maybe and get some actual sleep. The seat next to you was still empty and as the time ticked by you grew more hopeful that it would remain that way but nothing good lasts forever.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” a voice called out next to you and you looked up to meet the eyes of none other than Jack Hughes.

Your heart sank as Jack glared down at you, his tall frame looming over your seat. Of all the people to be stuck next to for a cross-country flight, it had to be him.

“Why aren’t you flying with the team?” You questioned.

“I overslept and missed the flight,” he muttered and you snorted.

Jack huffed as he stowed his carry-on and slid into the seat beside you. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. You both sat rigidly, avoiding eye contact as the rest of the passengers boarded.

As the plane began to move, you couldn't help but sneak a glance at Jack. His jaw was clenched, hands gripping the armrests tightly. Was he... nervous?

"You okay there, Hughes? Not scared of flying, are you?" you teased, unable to resist.

He shot you a withering look. "I'm fine.”

But as the plane started to take off his breathing grew more rapid and you started to get concerned. You hit a bit of turbulence trying to level out, and Jack’s hand moved towards yours, gripping it tightly.

“Sorry,” he rasped, but you kept your hand in his, caressing his skin softly with your thumb.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. “Just try and breathe.”

“I’m trying,” he snapped and you rolled his eyes. “I need you to distract me.”

“How?”

“Just tell me something about you I don’t know,” he asked looking over at you pleadingly.

“Hockey isn’t my favorite sport,” you said instantly. It felt like your dirty secret being a hockey reporter, but it was the truth.

Jack let out a strained chuckle, “oh yeah, what is?”

“Football,” you replied and he nodded at you to keep going. “I fell in love with it when I was just a kid watching Brett Farve. Him leaving the Packers was my first real heartbreak in life. I like college football more now and while I love the atmosphere of hockey, there is nothing like a Saturday night home game in the palace. The lights illuminating the fields, the smell of popocorn and hotdogs, the fight song playing in the background, and everyone knows that $20 beer tastes better watching your favorite team. What’s more romantic than that?”

If Jack didn’t have the history he had with you, he thought he might have fell in love with you right then and there. His grip on your hand loosened slightly as he listened to you speak, his breathing becoming more even. He found himself captivated by the passion in your voice as you described your love for football.

"I never would have guessed," he said softly, a hint of a smile on his face. "You always seemed so... intense about hockey."

You shrugged, feeling a bit vulnerable having shared something so personal. "It's my job. I take it seriously."

"Maybe too seriously sometimes," Jack muttered, but there was no real bite to his words.

The plane leveled out and you both realized you were still holding hands. You quickly pulled away, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Thanks," Jack said, avoiding your gaze. "For, you know... helping me through that."

You nodded, unsure how to respond. This was the most civil conversation you'd ever had with Jack Hughes, and it felt weird. The rest of the flight went by without a spectacle; you were happy to catch some shut-eye, and woke up as you were about to land, Jack nudging you awake. He grabbed your bag for you, and you followed him off the plane, stopping when he turned to face you.

“Back to our regularly scheduled business of hating each other,” he said with a smirk, and you laughed.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way Hughes,” you shot back before heading off.

—————————————————————————

After a long call with your boss the next day, you were very irritated. Since the Devils were playing the Canucks, he wanted a short fluff piece about the Hughes brothers reuniting.

“It won’t be that bad,” Luke said after you tracked him down to tell him about the assignment. “You love me, and Quinn will love you.”

“I’m not worried about you two,” you told him with a look. “I’m worried about your other brother, who makes me want to jump off a cliff.”

“You’re dramatic,” he said, crossing his arms and you huffed. “We are all getting dinner tonight; just come with us. It’ll be a good chance to see us all off the ice.”

Later that night, you find yourself in the lobby with Luke, waiting on his brothers. Dressed down and out of your business wear, you felt more like yourself in a cute white sweater and jeans. Jack stepped out of the elevator and you immediately crossed your arms, already not in a good mood seeing him.

“Why is she here?” He asked Luke, completely ignoring you.

“She is writing a piece on the three of us, so I thought it would be nice to let her see the non-hockey side of things,” Luke explained and Jack groaned. Quinn stuck out his hand to introduce himself, and you smiled warmly at the oldest brother.

“So you’re the one who has little Jack by the balls?” He teased and Jack shoved him while you laughed.

You and Jack didn’t say a word to each other on the way to the restaurant and you luckily ended up being diagonal from him. It was a steakhouse but you weren’t that into steak so you opted for a grilled chicken salad with no tomatoes of course. Remembering that you were here for work, you kept quiet just observing the brothers.

"Remember when Jack tried to dye his hair blonde and it turned orange instead?" Quinn chuckled, earning a glare from Jack.

"Hey, at least I didn't cry when mom cut my mullet," Jack shot back, causing Luke to nearly spit out his drink.

You couldn't help but smile, seeing this different side of Jack. He was more relaxed, his guard down as he joked with his brothers. You caught yourself staring at him a few times, noticing how his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

The waiter soon returned with your food and you sighed as you watched your salad be placed in front of you with the tomatoes you had asked to be left out. You were never one to send something back, so you accepted your fate and unrolled your silverware.

“Everything look good?” The waiter asked. You nodded absentmindedly as Jack opened his mouth.

“She asked for no tomatoes,” he said, pointing to your salad. Your head snapped up and the waiter began to apologize.

“Oh it’s okay,” you said, trying to wave him off but Jack gave you a stern look that made you sit back.

“Don’t like tomatoes?” He mused. “Kind of childish, don’t you think?”

“You literally ordered a lemonade,” you shot back and his eyes narrowed at you.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“It’s every kid’s favorite drink,” you retorted.

Jack scoffed, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Oh, I’m sorry, Miss Sophisticated Palette. Let me guess, you’re a black coffee type, right? So edgy.”

You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your soda. “At least I don’t need a sugar rush to get through lunch.”

“And yet, here you are, drowning in soda. Classy.”

You gestured to his plate with a smug smile. “Says the guy who’s been avoiding the broccoli on his plate like it owes him money.”

Jack’s smirk faltered, and he glanced down at the offending vegetable. “It’s not avoidance. I’m saving the best for last.”

“Sure you are. Must be why it’s still untouched and getting cold.”

“You know, you’re a lot braver with your words when I don’t have a hockey stick in my hands.”

You shot him a fake, sweet smile. “And you’re a lot more tolerable when you keep your mouth shut.”

Quinn and Luke were thoroughly entertained as they observed the back-and-forth banter between you.

“You see what I have to deal with?” Luke said, looking at Quinn once you and Jack had finally stopped.

“Jack finally met his match,” he commented, prompting an eye roll from the mentioned brother.

The rest of the dinner passed with a mix of tension and grudging amusement between you and Jack, while Quinn and Luke kept the conversation flowing. As you all left the restaurant, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at how quickly you and Jack fell back into your antagonistic pattern.

"So, got enough material for your fluff piece?" Jack asked sarcastically as you walked back to the hotel.

You sighed, "Probably. Though I'm not sure how to write about the Hughes brothers' dynamic without mentioning how insufferable one of them is."

Jack chuckled, surprising you. "Just make sure to mention how charming and handsome that one is too."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "In your dreams, Hughes."

As you reached the hotel, Luke and Quinn said their goodbyes, leaving you and Jack alone in the lobby. An awkward silence lingering in the air between you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” He asked and you gave him a weird look, trying to figure out his angle.

“Where else would I be? I’m always front row waiting for you to mess up,” you joked and he gave you a playful frown.

“Very funny,” he said before bidding you goodbye and going up to his room. Things felt different between the two of you tonight, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.

———————————————————————-

The Devils beat the Canucks handily and you found yourself with a couple of other reporters waiting for Jack, who had scored, and a new girl that you didn’t recognize.

“Hi Jack,” the girl called out as he got settled and he looked at her amused. She looked like a puck bunny who had snuck in; beach blonde hair, fake spray tan, low cut top, you knew the type. Jesus, what had gotten into you, you thought, trying to shake off your cattiness.

“Hey, haven’t seen you around before,” he commented and she giggled. Literally giggled in response. The other reporters were amused but you kept your lips in a firm line.

“You were so great out there; it’s so impressive how hard you work,” she said and he smiled awkwardly thanking her. “Do you ever get scared when the puck comes at you?"

You couldn’t help but snort out loud when she asked that and Jack looked amused at you.

Jack’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, his smirk growing wider before he turned back to the blonde with a practiced ease.

"So," he said, leaning casually against the bench, "you’re new to the media scrum, huh? They usually send someone more…" He glanced at you briefly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Experienced."

The girl giggled again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, well, I’m just filling in today. I guess I got lucky getting to talk to you."

"Guess I got lucky too," he said smoothly, his tone playful. "Usually, I’m stuck with—" He cut himself off, letting his eyes flick to you with mock innocence. "Well, people who don’t seem to enjoy the job as much as you do."

Your jaw tightened, but you kept your face neutral, scribbling something completely irrelevant in your notebook to avoid giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"So," the blonde continued, practically glowing under his attention, "what’s it like to be so focused all the time? You’re just so… intense on the ice."

Jack chuckled, shaking his head. "Takes a lot of practice. But I don’t think I’m half as intense as you just now."

Her eyes widened, and she laughed, her cheeks turning a shade pinker. "Oh my God, stop! I’m just trying to do my job."

"And you’re doing it very well," he replied, his voice low and charming.

You shut your notebook loudly, drawing Jack’s attention as you stormed out of the locker room, your cheeks flushed with anger and... something else you didn't want to acknowledge. You made it halfway down the hall before you heard footsteps behind you.

"Hey!" Jack's voice called out. "Where are you going?"

You spun around, glaring at him. "Away from that circus. I have actual work to do."

He jogged up to you, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face. "What's your problem? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" You scoffed, crossing your arms. "Of what? Your ability to charm airheads?"

Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, that's pretty harsh. What happened to journalistic integrity?"

"What happened to professionalism?" You shot back. "Or do you always flirt with reporters during interviews?"

His expression shifted, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

“You are jealous,” he said confidently and you were about to argue back but he grabbed a door handle behind you, yanking the door open and pulling you in it. It was a smaller equipment closet, but you didn’t have much time to look around before Jack had you tight against his body.

“She isn’t you sweetheart,” he said as your body flushed against his.

Your breath caught in your throat as Jack's words sank in. The closet suddenly felt much smaller, the air thick with tension. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, his chest rising and falling against yours.

"What are you doing, Hughes?" you managed to whisper, your voice betraying your conflicted emotions.

His eyes searched yours, intense and unreadable. "Something I've wanted to do for a long time," he murmured before closing the distance between you.

His lips crashed against yours, hungry and insistent. For a moment, you were too shocked to respond. But then, as if a switch had been flipped, you found yourself kissing him back with equal fervor. Your hands tangled in his hair as his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

The kiss was everything you never knew you wanted - passionate, electrifying, and months of frustration bubbling over. His hands moved under your shirt and up your back as his touch burned your skin. Resting your head back against the wall, he took advantage, latching on to your neck, sucking harshly.

“More,” you gasped. “I need more.”

He pulled your shirt over your head and you unclasped your bra, letting it fall to the floor. His eyes glazed over, looking at your chest and you smirked before tugging at his shirt. He lifted it off and you admired his toned body, tracing your finger down his abs. His breath hitched as he watched you and you smirked seeing the bulge against his sweats get bigger.

Jack's eyes darkened as he watched your finger trail down his abs. In one swift motion, he lifted you up, pressing you against the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist. His lips found yours again in a searing kiss as his hips ground against you, eliciting a soft moan from your throat.

"God, you drive me crazy," he breathed against your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Your hands roamed his broad shoulders and back, relishing the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch. Jack's mouth moved lower, trailing hot kisses down your collarbone to your breasts. You arched into him as he took a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud.

"Jack," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair. He looked up at you, a mix of lust and something softer. “I need you in me.”

“Let me savor this sweetheart,” he pouted and you shook your head.

“Not the time or place,” you argued back and he sighed. Pulling down his pants, you spit into your hand before bringing it to his cock, pumping a few times, causing him to hiss. Shimmying out of your pants, you let him lift you against the wall, angling himself at your entrance.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked.

“Just this once,” you said and he rolled his eyes.

“We’ll see,” he replied and you started to argue back but he pushed in and your head fell forward onto his shoulder.

Jack began to move, thrusting into you with a steady rhythm. You clung to his shoulders, biting back moans as he hit just the right spot with each stroke. The closet filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the slap of skin on skin.

"God, you feel amazing," Jack groaned, his pace increasing. You wrapped your legs tighter around him, urging him deeper.

"Harder," you demanded, nails digging into his back. He complied, slamming into you with renewed vigor.

The tension that had been building between you for months was finally finding release. Every thrust, every touch was electric. You couldn't get enough of him.

"I'm close," you panted, feeling the familiar tightening in your core. Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he urged and you cried out, his hand coming up to muffle the noise. Riding out your orgasm, you were clenching hard around him and he grunted as he kept up the pace, pounding into you.

As your walls continued to contract around him, Jack couldn't hold back any longer. He buried his face in your neck, groaning out your name as he spilled into you.

For a few moments, all that could be heard was your heavy breathing as you both came down from the intense high. Jack leaned his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your skin. You both took a few minutes to catch your breath before Jack slowly pulled out of you. You winced slightly and Jack gave you a concerned look. He handed you your clothes and you quickly put them back on, refusing to look at him.

“Y/n,” he said softly and you finally looked over at him. His face was flushed, hair all over the place, but the look he was giving you made you want to take your clothes right back off.

“This was just two people blowing off steam, nothing more,” you said and he grinned widely.

“Oh, so you won’t mind if I hook up with that other girl next time instead?” He asked and you frowned before quickly morphing into a neutral expression but Jack had already caught it.

“Ugh,” you exclaimed before opening the door slowly, peeking out before you walked out. Jack was right behind you and you thought the coast was clear until you walked right into Quinn and Luke. You froze and felt Jack still behind you as he saw his brothers.

“What were you two doing?” Luke asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“We were just talking,” you defended, not meeting his eyes.

“Oh yeah? In the supply closet?” Quinn teased.

“It was quieter than the locker room,” Jack said.

“Didn’t sound that quiet,” Quinn shot back.

Your face burned with embarrassment as Quinn's words sank in. You couldn't bring yourself to look at Jack or his brothers, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

"I... I have to go," you mumbled, pushing past Luke and Quinn without meeting their eyes. You practically ran down the hallway, desperate to distance yourself and the Hughes brothers as much as possible.

Once safely in your hotel room, you collapsed onto the bed, burying your face in your hands. What had you done? Hooking up with Jack Hughes in a supply closet was bad enough, but getting caught by his brothers? Your career could be over if word got out.

Your phone buzzed with a text. Hesitantly, you checked it, half-expecting it to be Jack. Instead, it was from Luke:

"Don't worry, your secret's safe with us. But you might want to figure your shit out with Jack ;)”

You groaned, turning over, trying not to think about what happened in the closet or what it meant for you and Jack.

[silverzoomies]

Can you do 100 from the smut prompt list with Peter (Dark Phoenix version) but can you make it where the reader is his wife and he still is gentle and loving with her.

I really want to see how you would write a more romantic Peter

Pancakes

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: shameless smut, domestic, married couple, cock warming, risky sex, creampie, implied/referenced breeding

word count: 2,762

a/n: this one's for you, purple cat !! apologies, i'm rusty with my writing and characterization right now. probably will be for a while. sorry the ending's so abrupt !!

Peter races ceaselessly back and forth. Like a fast paced pendulum in full swing, he juggles his two most demanding responsibilities. The X-Men and teaching. His multiple jobs and total lack of free time are some of the many downsides of being a grown ass adult. He doesn’t wanna complain too much though, since the work is definitely rewarding overall. Like fo’ sho, he’s not gonna deny the perks.

But even with those sweet positives - making both money, and a name for himself; your superhero husband rarely has time for you anymore.

Peter hopes you’ll forgive him. Again. As he ambles into your shared room after another heinously long day, his body is littered in scrapes and bruises. Echoes of battles won. The wounds will surely heal by next morning. You know this as well as you know him. But you still insist on patching him up anyway, after Beastie’s already taken care of him twice over. You’re just so damn doting. It makes Peter feel even worse for waving you off.

He guarantees you a quick peck on the lips and a “love you, gorgeous.” Before he finally succumbs to mental fatigue. A tired fog of exhaustion beckons him to collapse into bed. You beg Peter to stay up a bit longer. An hour, at least. But just as you get a word in, he’s already conked out. Snoring away.

Within three hours, he wakes. You sleep soundly next to him. Snug as a lil bug. Peter presses a loving smooch to your sleepy head. Ruffling your hair, he bolts out the door promptly after.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. Every day. For months on end. His schedule never seems to align with yours.

Peter misses you so bad. He misses spending time with you. Laughing together. Cuddling for brief instances, cuz he can never sit still long enough for it to last. He misses making small talk. Only to glance at the clock and find hours unknowingly passed. Peter longs to take you on spontaneous trips across the country again, trying pancakes at every small town diner he can find.

And to put it bluntly - he desperately yearns to make love again. To you. His smokin’ hot wife - Mrs. Maximoff - and no one else. After months of pent-up frustration, he’s about ready to burst at the seams. It physically pains him when he remembers how often the two of you used to bone. So many times a day. Every day.

Peter still wonders if his speedy swimmers are even worth a damn. With all the raw, passionate sex he had with you - it’s a miracle you never followed the Maximoff family trend of carrying twins.

He even misses the more shameful moments shared with you. Like the times he surprised you with truckloads of gifts, spoiling you rotten - after he forgot your anniversary. Again. And again and again and- …hey, he warned you, long before the two of you ever got married. Peter isn’t the most reliable lover. He’s never been “boyfriend material,” as they say. And he knows now, better than ever; he most definitely isn’t “husband material" either.

But he really does love you. A lot. Like, a lot a lot. About as much as he loves Wanda. Which is an astronomical amount of love, if he's being honest. And if he were born with some reality-warping mutation instead, Peter would move the heavens and Earth just to make you happy.

Times are tough for mutants these days, though. There’s still so much work to be done. Classes to teach. Rights to fight for. People to save. No shortage of those.

You know he isn’t to blame for his absence. And he knows you know it. But still...it just...it sucks! He needs to be there for you, as much as you wanna be there for him.

And when the X-family comes together on a Friday night for a much needed break - more than anything in the world, Peter looks forward to spending every second with you. As soon as you walk into the lounge room, Peter pulls you straight into his arms. You’re wearing a tasteful dress you picked out just for him. It makes you look like a goddamn knockout. But all he wants is to tear it off you and press his bare body against yours. To feel your soft, luscious skin get sweatier under the natural, burning heat of his own.

The team play a few board games together, sharing drinks, gorging on Remy’s best gumbo. Peter gets a slap on the wrist with a ladle, after Lebeau catches him sneaking a third bowl - before anyone else even has their first.

It’s an easygoing, chillaxed affair. And throughout the night, your silver fox husband keeps you close like a magnet. Attached at the hip. He’s uncharacteristically clingy, touching you as much as you’ll allow in a sociable space. Calloused hands tenderly graze your skin as he offers to hold your drink. Peter’s fingers splay against your lower back, curling in, drawing affectionate circles.

You make your rounds and mingle with the family. Peter follows you around like a lost dog in need of attention. He keeps an arm wrapped around your waist, taking every opportunity to secretly grope your ass. You sneak him a few wary glances. Wordless warnings. Bringing his drink to his lips, the fine lines of Peter’s dimples pull in a lazy grin. He averts his gaze elsewhere.

Once more, his impulsivity earns him a slap on the wrist. Not from Remy this time. But from you. Peter takes your subtle scolding as a challenge. Leaning closely into your vicinity, he mutters.

“Oh, it is so on.”

“Don’t you dare!” You whisper back, squealing after he gives you a light smack on your ass.

His teasing continues without warning.

You chat with the team, visibly tensing as Peter pulls a nonexistent strand of lint from your dress. His hot touch lingers dangerously close to your cleavage. You can’t help but blush. The warmth in your cheeks races across your skin, creeping through your supple bust. Left speechless, your words falter on your tongue. Peter carries the conversation for you with minimal effort, flaunting aloof charisma.

He cracks a poorly timed joke and it fails to land. Feigning his embarrassment, he hides his face in the fragrant crook of your neck. His teammates tease him for it. But what they don’t know is, it’s all a theatrical ruse. They don’t see the way his teeth nip your flesh before he pulls away.

During an innocent game of UNO, your husband’s lidded gaze leers at you from across the carpeted floor. Peter’s dark hues make a short gesture to the dip between your legs. Biting his lip, he meets your eyes again with a frisky look. You know that look all too well. Again, you blush profusely. Logan catches him in the act as he wiggles his silver brows. But the old timer makes no comment, shaking his head with a smirk.

The team later settles down for a movie. Taking their respective spots in front of the TV, snacks in hand, they all lounge around. Peter steals a cozy spot on one of the sofas. He leaves a space for you next to him. Bouncing a knee restlessly, he cooks up a number of sneaky ways he can tease you. But his plans are all tossed to the wind once you scooch your way between the couch and the coffee table.

You shimmy your ample ass in front of him. Is it intentional? Unintentional? You naughty, little minx. His virile gaze falls to your tush, so full and grabbable in your dress. In a split second, he grabs your waist and inches you back into the warm familiarity of his lap. Your body relaxes, your back against his chest.

Finally, at last, Peter cuddles his wife again.

And he’s content with doing so for all of one minute.

His knee continues to bounce underneath you. With your hands joined together in your lap, his fingers absentmindedly play with your wedding ring. Steering his attention from Jurassic Park, Peter brings a hand to your chin. In the darkness, the television’s light illuminates all of your best features. You’re stunning. He really can't help himself. Peter pulls you in for some modest lip action. Careful not to catch anyone’s attention. The fingers of his opposite hand tease the back of your neck, igniting patterns of goose flesh.

“Aw, you cold?” Peter’s affectionate voice hitches, seemingly innocent.

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Peter vanishes and returns in a fwip, draping a thick blanket over the two of you once he returns. Showing gratitude, you peck his cheek with a soft kiss. Cute. Your mischievous husband almost laughs. He adores how naive and sweet you are. Oblivious to his schemes after five years of a marriage, and a decade of familiarity. Peter makes a few adjustments. Playing it off like he’s covering you for warmth.

You sink into him again with a fond smile on your lips.

An adoring smile that instantly falls, lips parting, exhaling a breathless gasp.

Peter trails fiery fingertips along your inner thigh and up your dress skirt. His hooded gaze stays hard locked on the movie, faking interest in Jeff Goldblum’s incoherent mumblings. Blissful buzzes resound faintly against the fabric of your panties. Peter’s grin stretches impishly again when you jolt as a response. Your clit pulses under flush pressure, making you squirm in his lap.

Confession time: your husband’s on a mission to make you as wet as possible, in as little time as possible.

The pads of his warm digits draw lower and push into damp fabric. You’re already soaking yourself silly.

“Feel that? How wet you are? Must’ve really missed me, huh?” Peter breathes silently with his nose in your neck, getting high off your familiar scent. His lips press a chaste kiss to your skin. A husky chuckle blooms in his throat, “Missed you too. Missed this. So fuckin' much.”

His name teeters off your lips in a confused whimper, barely audible. Sneaking your damp panties to the side, Peter’s thick digits breach your lonesome pussy folds. After being deprived of you for so ungodly long, the feel of your wet lust hardens him all at once. His fingers play a little game of tunnel diving, prodding your lush insides. Peter adjusts his position on the sofa by a smidgen. Silent curses tickle your temple. His girth bulges against your ass.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing?!” You huff under your breath, frantically scanning the room as he shifts again.

Peter’s digits curl so deliciously deep inside you, whirring like a silent vibrator, making your cunt spill leaky love. His breathy lips loom close to your ear.

“Hmm? Gunna try somethin’ risky. You’ll be quiet for me, won’t you, baby? Don’t want ‘em catchin’ on.” 

“Honey, no-”

“Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. Just go with the motions. Trust me. It’ll be so fun. I know you wanna.”

Peter uses speedster precision to pull his flush dick discreetly from his jeans. Poor guy’s so homesick, he’s crying - leaking precum, throbbing as Peter nudges him into your plush heat. It’s an awkward angle at first. But Peter guides you through it with more hushed whispers. The blanket acts as a veil of innocence, draped over your connected bodies. Peter urges your hips to sink lower. You choke on your own mewls as he scarcely ruptures your precious tunnel.

“Tell me if it hurts, ‘kay?” He coos through an easy tone, parting his lips against the shell of your ear.

A subtle hitch of his hips does the rest of the work for you. Biting his tongue, Peter curls his brows inward. Your slick walls envelop his length all at once. Smooth, shuddery tightness compresses his cock and sets his nerves ablaze. Your husband peppers your temple in heedless kisses, letting throaty grunts slip in between each one. His pulsing cock keeps your walls pried open. Snug, safe, secure, and buried to the hilt.

Peter doesn’t move, and neither do you. One of his hands digs nails into your hips over your dress, keeping you cemented on his lap. He’s torturing himself, fighting his own relentless impatience in an attempt to stay perfectly still. And it’s taking every microscopic ounce of willpower not to pound you senseless. Peter covers his face with a palm. His dark, lust-blown eyes peer through lazy fingers at the TV.

He’s six inches deep in his wife right now, and not a soul in the room has any clue.

Clearing his throat and acting casual, Peter shifts his hips again. His fat tip prods your cervix with a weepy kiss. Like a promise to stuff you full of something special. He sneaks a careful hand between your legs. His wedding ring settles over your bush, cool to the touch. The rough pads of his fingers vibrate more intensely than before, winding into your twitchy clit. Coaxing you to break. You tremble in his lap, knees flying inward, knocking together hard enough to bruise.

Peter’s eyes roll back in his skull as your sticky walls seize tightly around his snug dick.

“Ah, fuck me.” He groans into your hair.

He can’t stop himself from knocking his hips upward every few minutes. Burrowing his buzzing thickness deeper, Peter splits you open, impaling your poor pussy. His genes imbue his body with primal frustration. Hiking the intensity of your hot bliss, his digits toy with your clit. Your breaths grow more sparse and shallow, as you blink tears from the corners of your eyes.

“Pietro, honey, please-"

He hitches his next breath. Reeling his ass into the couch cushions, Peter makes an abrupt retreat before ramming his cock into your womb. His inky gaze widens tenfold as your pussy swells, squeezing his dick tight enough to lock him in your hot channel forever. His lashes flutter. Going cross eyed, Peter feels his weighty balls tense under denim.

His hand darts up from your hip, clamping over your mouth in a flash. Peter pulls you hard against him, your back flush with his heaving chest as you cum. You’re so fucking lucky the movie transitions into a particularly loud scene. The shrill roar of Jurassic Park dinosaurs plays like a perfectly timed miracle. Concealing your muffled squeals of ecstasy.

The slippery contractions of your orgasm send him into the stratosphere. Your pussy creams hard on your husband’s whirring cock, and his pent-up longing comes crashing in bombastic waves. As covertly as he can, under the thick heat of the blanket; Peter repeatedly thrusts into your lush pussy. Slowly - so as not to catch anyone’s attention. 

It’s both the most hellish, and thrilling sexual experience of his near-middle aged years. He bites his lip so hard he draws blood. Peter’s brows fly up, following an expression of pure vulnerability. Thick, endless pools of white, syrupy heat flood your pussy, gushing in streaks and leaking down his vascular dick.

Peter takes a two second pause to catch his breath, unusually winded from such a scandalously intimate experience. With his nose buried in your hair, his lips pepper your head in soft kisses. Bringing his fist to his mouth, Peter clears his throat again.

“Uhm, g-great party, guys! Love you! We’re gonna bounce. G’night!”

The two of you disappear in a blur, leaving the blanket fluttering in the air.

Back in your shared room, your ever-insatiable husband drills you raw again and again. Spilling thick, sticky load after load - like he’s really trying his damndest to knock you up. You lose track of how many times you reach ecstasy. Peter tells you he’s making up for lost time. By the end of it all, your limp, naked body lies loosely in his arms. Running his fingers through your hair, he catches himself staring at the ceiling with a big, dumb smile on his face.

Saturday morning, Peter channels his inner, teenage self. Recalling his notorious streak of high school ditch-days, much to his mother’s dismay. He decides…ah, screw it. If Chuck needs him, he can just reach out via telepathic communication. Peter bails on his responsibilities to take you out for pancakes. At a family owned diner in some nowhere town, far away from any sinister villains.

You sit across from him at the booth, leaning tiredly over your breakfast. He can tell your body aches just by looking at you. Bones rigid. Legs sore. Hair unkempt. Makeup smeared. 

You’re goddamn beautiful.

[sensorytuna]

── LOVE ME NOT.

part one . part two .

synopsis . as the guidance counselor of south park middle school, you support students, parents, teachers and administrators to ensure that the highest levels of student success can be obtained. but when two children with familiar last names keep on landing themselves a trip to your office, you're left with no choice but to break no contact and call two men that you have dug deep in your past.

notes . occasional swearing, age gap change between the mccormick siblings and broflovski brothers, lowercase intented, aged up chatacters (in their 20s) a choose your own ending series

♡ : kyle broflovski / kenny mccormick (K2) x reader

- the moment everyone steps out of your office, karen barely spares you and kenny a glance

- just shoving her hands in her pockets and mumbling a "later"

- she made sure to slam the door shut on the way out

- kenny snickered at that, "man, she hates this place."

- one corner of your lips perked up

- "yeah, well if she stopped breaking bathroom sinks and vandalizing walls, she wouldn't be here all the time."

- "eh," kenny shrugs "i don't even know how to react to that anymore. kid's gettin' outta control nowadays."

- "sure you do." you lightly joke, causing the blond to let a chuckle slip out of his mouth

- that smirk, it brings back memories

- back when you and him still had something, something that was full of cutting classes, writing graffiti with spray paint, running away from restaurants without paying

- you shake your head, leaning back before glancing down at kenny's uniform

- it's a dark blue jumpsuit, albeit dirty, and has a logo on the left breast

- "so, a mechanic, huh?"

- "yep," he rocks back on his heels

- "started working at the workshop a while back. pays decent, better than what i used to do."

- "it gets my hands dirty, but you know me—i don't really mind."

- his voice goes lower at the last part, as if he's testing to see how you'd react

- you roll your eyes at his words, "right. and i assume you don't mean the literal dirt and grease."

- kenny grins at that

- "depends. you askin' as a school counselor or just you?"

- there it is again

- the casual flirting

- the kind that's hard to tell whether he's serious or just having fun

- "how about just as someone who hasn't seen you in forever?" you counter

- he hums

- a beat of silence passes

- the school hallway is mostly empty now, the distant echo of the janitor's cart rolling down the corridor

- you shift your weight, arms crossing loosely. "so... how's everything?"

- kenny hesitated at the question before responding

- not long enough for some people to notice, but you do

- "it's alright," he says, shrugging

- "job keeps me steady, keeps me busy. got my own place now. tiny as hell, but it's mine."

- that catches you off guard

- "you moved out?"

- he nods

- "yeah. still close enough to check on karen and kevin, but far enough that i don't have to deal with..."

- he waves vaguely, as if that's enough to explain every single reason why he wouldn't want to live at home anymore

- you don't push

- you never had to

- with him, you'll only learn something if he trusts you about it

- otherwise, no amount of nagging will get it out of him

- instead, you say, "i'm glad. you deserve that."

- something flickers across his face, his smirk long gone as he makes eye contact with you

- his eyes are damn bright, i'll tell you that

- "yeah?"

- "yeah." you respond simply

- for a second, you two are quiet

- then

- kenny exhaled through his nose, his usual smirk going back

- "so, what about you, huh? you've got your own office now? fancy."

- you scoff

- "i'm a school counselor, kenny, not a damn CEO."

- he leans against the doorframe, eyeing you playfully

- "still, you always wanted to help people. guess that hasn't changed."

- "you sound surprised." you respond

- "nah," he shook his head

- "just kinda nice, is all. seeing you like this."

- the way he said it made your stomach flip a little

- not in a dramatic, romcom way

- but in a subtle, creeping way that you didn't know how to shake off

- before you can say anything else, kenny straightens up, running a hand through his blond hair

- "alright, counselor. i'll let you get back to changing lives or whatever it is that you do in here."

- you roll your eyes

- "yeah, yeah. try to keep karen outta trouble, will you?"

- he laughs, "no promises."

- and with that, he's gone

- you can hear the faint echo of his boots stomping across the floor, the volume slowly softening until it was back to complete silence

- but something about the way he looked at you lingers

— ♡ —

- the next day, your laptop hasn't finished loading up when a sharp knock on your door announces itself

- it's sharp, purposeful

- as if whoever's behind it is too polite to barge in but too impatient to wait long for an answer

- you look up, raising an eyebrow while your eyes glance to the clock

- it's early

- too early for a student to be causing any havoc

- "come in."

- the door creaks open and a redhead enters, his hair bouncing slightly

- "kyle." you start, resting your head on your hand

- "hey," he starts, stepping inside

- his hands are in his jacket pockets, looking a little tense

- but then again

- kyle has always looked tense

- “i know ike’s suspended, but i still want to talk to you about what happened."

- “and before you tell me i should be talking to the principal instead—i did. And she was, shockingly, zero help.”

- you sigh at that

- you know exactly how that conversation went down

- kyle starts pacing, rubbing his face

- "i just, i don't get it. i mean, i do, because it's ike, and he's a little shit sometimes, but i thought we were past this."

- you don't talk, giving him the sign to continue

- "he's a good kid. i know he is, there's no way he'd just break sinks or- or ruin restrooms for no damn reason."

- you tilt your head, "and you're here because..?"

- kyle stops his pacing, "because i need to know what's going on with him."

- you lean back on your seat, looking up at him

- "kyle, he's your brother, not your kid."

- he scoffs at that, before sitting down on the seat across you

- "god, you ever feel like things don't ever change?" he weakly laughed

- you blink, "what do you mean?"

- "ike's fucking up the restrooms, mom losing her mind over every single thing, and i'm the one stuck in the middle of trying to keep everything from falling apart. it's like i'm sixteen again and trying to stop ike's nicotine addiction at 5 years old."

- you smirk at the vivid memory of ike getting his hands on vapes when he was only in kindergarten

- "if we're comparing things to high school, you forgot to add the part where you'd argue with adults like you had a law degree at fifteen."

- "that is NOT true-"

- "yes, you did." you snicker

- he groans, tilting his head upwards

- "okay, maybe once or twice."

- "that was more than twice-"

- "fine. but in my defense, i was right most of the time."

- you snort, "see? some things really don't change."

- kyle rolls his eyes, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes now

- he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, "i guess i just thought that things would be... i dunno, different by now."

- you raise an eyebrow

- "different how?"

- "i mean, i moved out, got a place of my own, a good job, a..."

- he pauses, frowning slightly

- "a stable job, anyway. i thought that was supposed to make things easier, but somehow, i'm still dealing with the same old shit. just with a different zip code."

- his words hang between you for a moment

- and you recognize that undercurrent of frustration, of exhaustion

- "yeah," you say, softer this time, "i get that."

- kyle looks at you, curiosity flickering across his face, "what about you? you’re the one who actually left town for a while. is this where you thought you’d end up?”

- you exhale, leaning back in your chair

- "honestly? no."

- his eyebrows raise slightly, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. "really?"

- you shrug

- "i mean, i knew i wanted to help people. but coming back here? that wasn’t exactly the plan."

- kyle hums, studying you

- "so why did you?"

- you pause

- the answer isn’t simple, but kyle’s always been the type to press for one

- "i guess… i missed some things," you admit

- "not everything, but enough."

- he nods slowly, like he understands

- "yeah. i get that."

- silence lingers between you, but this time, it’s not uncomfortable

- just

- thoughtful

- then, kyle exhales, shaking his head with a small smirk

- “God. listen to us. we sound like a couple of exhausted old people.”

- you laugh

- "yeah, well. we are in a school again. that’s gotta knock at least ten years off your soul."

- kyle huffs a laugh, but then his gaze lingers on you for just a second longer than expected

- something shifts in his expression

- not quite nostalgia, not quite regret

- just something

- "guess some things do change, though." he says, voice quieter now

- you tilt your head

- "like what?"

- kyle hesitates, then shakes his head with a small smile

- "never mind."

- you narrow your eyes, but before you can press, he steps back toward the door

- "anyway, i should go before i start actually ranting like i’m still in high school.”

- you smirk

- "i don’t know, kyle. i think we passed that threshold a while ago."

- he chuckles, shaking his head, "yeah, yeah. i’ll see you around, counselor."

- and then he’s gone

- but something about that conversation lingers in the air long after he’s left.

i am SO sorry for the delayed part 2, i'll make it up to you guys promise :'(

[noiriarti]

Trying New Things: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

NSFW!!!!!!! Literally so NSFW!!! MDNI! Summary: You and Anakin, your best-friend-turned-boyfriend, try anal and double penetration. Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x AFAB!Reader Word Count: 2.0k CW: anal sex, double penetration, definitely dom/sub elements, gentle degradation (usage of 'slut') AN: hey friends! this can be interpreted as the bonus chapter of my series 'Just Practice,' or it can be read stand alone because there's just PWP!

When Anakin bought the plug and the rabbit vibrator, he was rock hard and almost had to take care of himself while driving to your apartment. He made it there, thankfully, but didn't get far past the entryway before he started stroking himself. You were in class, and the opportunity was just too nice to resist. His body was shivering when he imagined you on your hands and knees, sticking out your pretty little ass for him.

God, how he wanted to destroy you. Make you scream. Spread your tight little virgin ass wide with the cock he was stroking. But that had to wait until you came home. For now, he had his hand. And photos of you. Anakin flipped through the gallery he had of photos of you. Some were you, splayed out under him, getting fucked while you were blindfolded and tied up. Others were your lips, wrapped around his cock. His favorite, though, was the photo of you, tied up on your knees, looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes, your face and chest coated in globs of his cum. With his eyes locked onto yours in the photo, so adoringly staring at him, he came with a grunt into a tissue.

The plug and vibrator went into a drawer, for later. Until then, he had to finish up a report for work. After graduation two months ago, he almost immediately jumped into his full-time job at Bell Labs. Sitting among the different machines and chips, he felt at home again. Moving in with you was a wonderful bonus. Since you'd closed the distance, he wanted to take you and fuck you on every available surface, sometimes multiple times a day. Ever since you explored your shared kinks together, he was desperate for you. The first time you called him sir, he nearly came on the spot. He loved having that control over you, to make you cum whenever he wanted.

Two hours later, after you had come home from class and eaten the dinner he had made, he had you on his bed again. You were grinding against his thigh, desperate and mewling as he squeezed your throat. Your pulse raced under his fingers, and he pressed down just enough to make you light-headed and dizzy. Your movements were getting frantic--he knew that you were going to cum by the hitch in your breath, the stuttering roll of your hips. He knew you too well. But it wasn't time yet.

"Get on all fours for me, baby," he interrupted. You whined at the fact that you had to stop what you were doing, but still did as he said. You knew what was coming. On the bed, you stuck your ass up dutifully, on your hands and knees. Your heart was thrumming in anticipation of what you were about to do. You'd confessed the fantasy to him last month a just a whisper in bed, nothing serious. But he couldn't stop thinking about it, he told you.

"Okay, baby, touch yourself while I do this, and just relax," he said soothingly. You snaked your hand down your front, finally back to your clit, where you started rubbing circles and told yourself to Relax. Then you felt a pressure on your ass, and you immediately tensed up. This would be harder than you thought. Anakin's finger, warm and slick, gently circled around your asshole. Deep breath in, deep breath out. You felt yourself relax, the muscles in your thighs unclenching a bit, when he began applying just the slightest bit of pressure. You hadn't expected it to feel this good. His finger was gently pushing in, teasing you, and you could have sworn you could feel every ridge of his finger as it got deeper. Eventually, when it was in to the knuckle, he gently started working it back and forth. Fuck, that really was good. His finger was so smooth with the lube that there was no pain, just a nice stretch. Then he added another, which was a bit more of a stretch, which you groaned about into the pillow, but you soon acclimated to it. By the time that he could easily move his fingers in and out of your ass, it was time for something bigger.

He grabbed the plug, meant to loosen you up a bit with its slightly wider base, then dribbled some lube onto it before pressing it into you. The push of the plug into you was delicious, so much wider and better than just his fingers. His cock would be so much bigger than this, and you already felt so, so full, bent over like this. As it inched in, slowly but insistently, you keened, and then it popped in all the way, finally seated within you. It lit up your pussy, and you felt yourself get even more wet under your fingers.

"You're doing so well for me, baby," he whispered as he trailed his hand down your thigh. Anakin tapped the plug once, twice, three times, and a whimpering moan burst out of you. That felt amazing--it was rubbing up against all the sensitive parts of you, and you could even feel it pushing up against the walls of your pussy. He was obviously enjoying the display, based on the warm, hard flesh you felt poking against your ass. He left the plug in you for a few more minutes as you got used to its girth, only a little bit smaller than him, but still a stretch.

"Are you ready baby?" You nodded, and he started pulling it out. God. If you thought it was good going in, this was a whole other level of pleasure. But then you were empty, clenching down around nothing. You moaned and drew closer to him, trying to entice him to put a finger in, or the plug, anything. Anakin smacked your ass with a pleasurable crack that made you hiss.

"M'gonna fuck your tight little asshole now," he growled out. His tip brushed your ass, the lube cold and smooth, then the pressure started as he filled you to the brim. For a moment, it felt like he was splitting you open, but then the feeling subsided and all that was left was that gentle stretch.

"Shit," he groaned as he felt the clench of you around him. Then he started to move, and both of you let out a grunt. He started slow, scared he would hurt you, then sped up, setting the same punishing pace he did with your pussy. It was almost too much, almost too tight for him to believe. Anakin had wanted this for so long, but he was starting to think it wouldn't last. You just felt too good under him as he pounded into you.

"Ani, Ani, please please please," you begged and babbled, losing yourself in the feeling.

"What do you want? Huh? What do you want, slut?" His voice was gruff, husky. He wanted you to say it.

"More, please!! Stuff me full!" Just hearing those words was almost too much, so he pulled himself out and bit back the regret at postponing a perfectly good orgasm. But it was all for you. He grabbed the vibrator he had bought--thinner and shorter than his cock, but it had a little protrusion that would vibrate against your clit. He touched your pussy with the hand he hadn't fingered your ass with, just to see if you were wet enough that it didn't need lube. Anakin didn't expect your pussy to be so soaked. He smirked, and you could hear it in his voice.

"So wet, little slut. You want something stuffed in here?" He tapped your entrance, pleased at the wet smacks it made, then let his finger dip inside just a little bit. Not too much. You'd be taking something bigger soon. He slid back into your ass, this time with far less resistance, and your chest fell to the bed, so that you were completely ass up. Then, as he kept still, he grabbed the vibrator and started easing it into your pussy.

Your pussy, ready and willing as it was, swallowed the first inch greedily. Anakin barely held back a moan when he could feel it rubbing against the bottom of his cock buried inside you. The pressure inside you was unbelievable--it felt like you were being wound up tighter than any person could be, stretched and spread and tightened until you couldn't take it anymore. But you couldn't deny that the very idea of being filled and stuffed to the brim made you feel sinful, sexy. All for him. It had made you wet for weeks before you suggested it, and when you saw his face (and felt his cock), you could tell he would love it. Even in real life, just like the fantasy, being doubly penetrated was so dirty, so arousing. Anakin started thrusting shallowly to test if you could handle it, and the loud moan you produced told him you could. The plastic cock wedged inside your pussy was tilted at just the right angle so that when Anakin pounded into your ass, the toy moved forward and filled you out. You knew that if he kept at it, you'd cum all over him.

And then Anakin turned on the vibrator, and you shattered. Having your clit stimulated like that, on top of everything, was enough to push you over the edge. He must have felt the orgasm as your whole body twitched, clenching and unclenching around both your stuffed holes. You didn't even know what you were saying, something about how you were so dirty for him, how he was so hot, or maybe that you wanted to do this all the time. It was all background noise as you lost yourself in the feelings coursing through you.

"Fuck yeah, cum on my cock while I fu--fuck your ass," he said, his throat catching as you clamped down on him mid-sentence. Anakin tried to keep going, but was too much. The vibrations he could feel from your pussy, the sound of your moans, the warmth, the tightness around his cock. His brown hair, sweaty and dark with all the effort, fell into his eyes while he panted and grunted your name. He came so hard that his body spasmed, giving one final, brutal, thrust as he filled his condom. Now, he had to be careful. Slowly, so slowly that you could barely tell in your blissed-out state, he pulled himself out of you, then inched the vibrator out and turned it off. You flopped over to the side, your bones having become jelly about five minutes ago, so he came to circle his arms around you on the bed once he dropped off the toys on the nightstand.

"You did so well. I loved that so much--I love you so much. Did you have fun?" His question was full of affection You nodded, lazily. It was all you could manage. Your head was still swimming. After a bit, he sat up and gently swatted your ass with his hand.

"C'mon, let's get your cute ass cleaned up. Shower?" You nodded again, this time letting him pull you and carry you with his strong arms to the bathroom. Anakin grabbed some tissues and let you wipe up any lube you could feel, then helped you over to the shower to spend some time relaxing you before you went to sleep. Sometime around the middle of him shampooing your hair, you found your tongue could produce words again.

"Hey Ani?"

"Yeah, baby?" His voice was playful, stuffed full of joy and love. Just like usual.

"I love you," you told him as you looked up at him. With his hair plastered to his face under the shower water, cheeks flushed, and eyes twinkling, he grinned at you.

"I love you too."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for future one-shots!

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

So Much To Teach

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: quite a few; dom Spencer kinda, oral (f receiving), age gap; reader is 21+ but it's a lil dubious by default bc he's her professor and therefore an authority figure but shhhh its fine shhhh, fingering, marking a little bit, p in v sex, they both talking diiiiirty, minor praise, risky sex, multiple orgasms, edging- I think I got everything??

Genre: Smut

Summary: You want your professor's attention but you had no idea what would happen if you got it- you also had no idea you'd get it by talking to a classmate

Part 2

***

Professor Reid is by far your favorite teacher ever and you make sure to make it as obvious as you can get away with. You're always early to his class, you sit in the front row, ask questions as often as you can, take full advantage of his office hours- all of it. You're determined to make Spencer Reid think of you as often as you think of him. Unbeknownst to you, you didn't need to put so much effort into capturing his attention. Not that you'd ever be able to tell, Spencer is always the epitome of professionalism. Well, almost always. He's human after all and you- you might as well be a siren. On the days you come in wearing your shortest skirts, toying with the hem absentmindedly, it's practically impossible for him to keep his gaze above your desk. He's not careless though, only allowing himself to stare when he's not the focus, during exams for example. He especially loves presentation days because he can spend them shamelessly eye-fucking you while you're busy addressing the class. You never seem to notice the way his attention drifts to you, and he's counting his lucky stars for it. He's plenty aware of the implications of his little crush. He wouldn't be so stupid as to make a move on you, especially while you're still his student. Spencer has spent more than enough time convincing himself that the risks outweigh the reward. For now, he'll have to be content watching you from a distance, even when you saunter into his office in your tight blouses to discuss your homework. On those days he knows the memory of your boobs practically spilling out of those shirts will keep him up for at least another hour later that night.

Weeks of your silent game that you're sure he's not actually picking up on have you growing bored of focusing only on getting his attention. Sure you want him to think about you, but you're not so crazy to think he'd risk his job to say, bend you over his office desk like you so desperately wish he would every time you go in there. You're young and in college and while the boys here do not hold your attention the same way, you're not above a little distraction. Which is why today you walk into class chatting with another student, a guy named Matt who has been trying to get you to notice him for a while now. Professor Reid isn't in the class yet and you hop on top of your desk as you talk to Matt about some sports thing. You're not totally following but he's cute so you giggle and pretend you get it, swinging your legs and batting your eyelashes in the way you know college boys respond so well to. You hardly even notice Spencer enter the classroom, but he zeros in immediately on the sight of you smiling at some kid. Matt's a good student, Spencer really has nothing against him, but he rolls his eyes at the two of you knowing that Matt would never be able to keep up with you.

"Quiet down everyone. Miss y/n your butt belongs in a seat, not on a desk and Mister Lewis I suggest you find somewhere to sit as well so we can begin." Spencer addresses you and Matt sharply, catching you off guard. He's never spoken to you that way but you can't help the amused look on your face as you mutter an affirmative and hop off the desk to sit in your chair. Maybe something's going on that put him in a bad mood. The class goes by smoothly after that and Matt is at your desk as soon as Spencer dismisses you all. Spencer has to turn his back to the room to hide the way his face twists up watching you.

The next class again, you walk in with Matt, this time Spencer is there already so you sit directly in your seat but Matt stays and talks to you while you wait for class to officially start. Spencer has to tamp his desire to break the conversation up for no reason until enough students pile in that he begins the lesson. This goes on for two more sessions, you walk in with Matt, twirling your hair, giggling at him, flaunting your gorgeous figure in flattering outfits that he openly gawks at you in, all while Spencer tries to keep himself from the edge of insanity. He has no right to be so put out by this, you're a student for crying out loud. He tries to remember that, tries hard to keep himself in check even as Matt basically invades your personal space as you're sitting on your desk before class again. You let him get entirely too close for Spencer's liking and when he sees you lean forward he can't stop himself from interrupting.

"Miss y/n." Spencer drawls out in a way that makes you want to shiver. "I've already told you desktops are not for sitting. Don't make me tell you again." Spencer says effectively ruining whatever was about to happen between you and Matt. He even backs off to let you get down from your desk.

"I'll see you after class okay?" You tell Matt sweetly and Spencer absolutely cannot take any more of this. He begins his lecture though his mind is somewhere else through most of it. He's busy planning. When the time comes and he dismisses the class Matt is quickly making his way to you and Spencer realizes he has to move now.

"Miss y/n. You don't have a class after this do you?" Spencer asks.

"No professor. Is something the matter?" You ask.

"There's something I'd like to discuss with you. Come with me to my office." He instructs.

"O-okay?" You frown. Matt does too from where he stopped when Spencer called your name. Spencer waits for you to finish collecting your things before he heads towards the class's exit. "I'll- I'll catch you later I guess Matt." You say over your shoulder before following Spencer. You try to think what this could be about. Your last paper was great, you know it was, plus there's no way he's through grading those yet, you aced the most recent test you took- there's no way he's calling you into his office because of the desk-sitting thing- is there? When you reach Spencer's office he shuts the door behind you and stands on the other side of his desk. He doesn't sit- which you find strange but nothing about this has been normal thus far.

"Is there a problem sir?" You ask sitting down.

"Is there a problem?! You- never mind. No y/n, no problem." Spencer forces himself to restrain that overwhelming urge he has to yell over Matt or simply split you open on his desk, or in his office chair, or against the wall- he shakes the thought from his mind, scrambling for an excuse for calling you to his office. "I just wanted to discuss something from- your paper."

"Oh you've started grading the papers?" You ask. He's only just gotten to them. He doesn't even think he's graded yours all the way through yet but he can't tell you the truth, that you're only here so you didn't walk out with Matt.

"Yes I have and there was something interesting... in your paper. I just need to find it, give me- a minute." Spencer shuffles through things on his desk, he's stalling and he hopes you don't notice.

"Professor Reid?" You tilt your head at him.

"Just a minute y/n." He mutters.

"Professor." You frown, your voice is forceful enough that he glances up at you. "I know you know exactly where my paper is. And I know that if there was really something you wanted to discuss in said paper you'd already have it memorized. You're almost irritatingly punctilious, I've been in your office more than enough times to know that. So what's really going on?"

"I suppose I should've expected this from one of my smartest students." He muses with a shake of his head.

"I know we're not friends by any means since you're my professor and all but we're both adults and I hope you'd respect me enough to tell me the truth." You tell him.

"Believe me I am trying very hard."

"To tell the truth or respect me?" You cross your arms.

"I respect you implicitly and because of that telling the truth here is- conflicting."

"Professor Reid, what am I doing in your office? I've asked you much harder questions than that in class."

"If only you knew." He scoffs.

"Professor-"

"You're right. I didn't call you in here to discuss a paper." He sighs knowing he's out of escapes. "It's that boy you've been draping yourself over all month." Spencer says through clenched teeth.

"Matt? You called me in here to discuss Matt? Why? Is he failing or something?"

"No. He maintains a solid B average in my class."

"Okay, then I'm really not understanding professor. What does Matt have to do with anything?" You shake your head.

"It is infuriating to watch him with you as if he has even the slightest chance of satisfying you in any way." Spencer walks over to you as he speaks, punctuating his sentence by leaning against the arms of your chair which forces you to lean back.

"And- what makes you the authority on who could satisfy me?" You ask breathily, blinking up at him.

"Considering you haven't even tried to move away from me I'd guess you know as well as I do." Spencer stares at you intently.

"Are you making a move on me professor?" You ask with feigned innocence that you know he sees through.

"Am I not being clear enough?" He asks.

"I dunno."

"Then allow me to make myself unequivocal." Spencer closes the small gap between you two, pressing his lips against yours fiercely. His hands hold your face as he pours all of his feelings and frustrations into this kiss. You grab hold of his wrists as you surrender yourself to the feeling of his mouth on yours. When he finally pulls away you're both left panting but a dam has been broken with that single kiss and your hands are pulling off his tie before he's even realized it. You stand up and kiss him again, fingers tangling in his hair, while his hands settle against your waist easily. He doesn't let you lead things for long, turning you both to sit you on his desk. "I'm going to show you everything that silly boy could never give you." Spencer grumbles against your lips.

"I never pegged you for the jealous type Professor Reid." You giggle.

"I've never been good at sharing." He quips kissing his way down your throat.

"Go figure." You mutter with a breathy sigh when his kisses turn to nips and sucks. "Careful. If you visibly mark me I'll have to lie." You tell him which only seems to spur him on and you yelp after a particularly harsh bite.

"Lie?" He frowns at you.

"I mean I can't very well say 'Professor Reid gave me those hickies' now can I?" You say and Spencer laughs as he drops into the chair in front of you.

"No, I suppose not, but you can absolutely use them to let people know you're taken." He says shuffling closer to you and pulling your underwear off from under your skirt.

"By people you mean Matt don't you?" You smile, amused at how miffed he is over your little distraction.

"Say his name again in here and I'll turn that ass of yours so red that you'll still have trouble sitting by next class." Spencer glances up at you with a warning look that has your exposed cunt clenching around nothing. An action he doesn't catch, seeing as your skirt is still hiding your center from him. He bunches your skirt up at your hips as he lifts you onto his desk and adjusts your legs so your feet are on it, knees wide so he can simply watch how your pussy glistens for a moment. His gaze is intense and soon you're squirming against the dark wood he's displayed you on.

"Professor Reid, touch me- please." You pout at him.

"Someone's getting impatient huh? You just look so pretty I can't help but want to stare." His words make you blush and the restlessness gets worse as he leisurely folds the sleeves of his button down shirt to reveal his forearms.

"Please professor-" You sigh.

"I like hearing you beg." Spencer's grin is nothing short of sadistic but he leans forward and lets his tongue drag through your wetness with a satisfied groan. He shifts to hold your legs open as he feasts on you like a man starved. It's hard to keep track of his tongue, thrusting in and out of you, circling your clit, disappearing entirely as he suckles harshly on the bundle of nerves all with incredible veracity. It's like he figured out how to read your body before he even began and he's got you teetering on the edge faster than you'd like to admit. Your hands tug desperately at his brown hair as you feel your orgasm building. Before you can even warn him of your incoming release he's switching his tactic, dragging you back from that end, still pleasing you but rather than feeding the fire he's simply maintaining it where it is.

"No!" You whine before you can stop yourself when you feel your orgasm slipping further away. His responding chuckle only adds to your frustration.

"If you're gonna cum princess it'll be when I'm ready for you to. Understood?" Spencer doesn't even lift his head as he speaks. He nips at your swollen clit when you don't answer and after a yelp, you manage a response.

"Y-yes sir." You get out.

"Good girl." He mutters lapping at your juices yet again. Same as before, he easily works you towards the edge with his tongue in all the right places, and like before, when your orgasm is in reach he walks you backwards. This time you manage to hold back your sound of frustration and then his fingers enter the mix and your small whimpers become full on whines as he curls two digits inside you just right to have you arching off of his desk. With his mouth focused solely on your clit while his fingers thrust in and out of you diligently, not to mention the previous denials, you're practically shaking as he works you up again.

"Professor Reid please let me cum this time, please sir- fuck I can't- I need to cum so bad. Please professor- I- I can't. Oh god." Your breathless pleas are barely sensible, but they satisfy Spencer and he doesn't pull back this time, doesn't stop until you're clenching around his fingers and spasming on his desk, struggling to handle the impact of your own orgasm. He watches the way pure ecstasy washes over your face with a smirk on his face as he helps you through it with gentle strokes of his fingers. When your breathless gasps become more subdued he pulls his hand away from your center. Before you can fully recover, Spencer pulls you off of the desk and turns your back to him, bending you over the desk with a hand at your back.

"Fuck- I need a condom." He mutters.

"Do you have any?"

"I- no? I don't regularly fuck people in my office y/n."

"I- have one in my bag. Front pocket." You mutter. Spencer reaches for your backpack and grabs the condom quickly, rolling it on with ease.

"I'm going to absolutely ruin you for anyone else." He tells you before thrusting himself into you. Inch by inch he slides deeper inside you and pinned against his desk all you can do is moan at the fullness. He sets a rhythm as soon as he bottoms out, his dick dragging against your walls with each hard thrust. 

"Fuck- god that feels good." You mewl.

"Yeah? You like the way my dick splits you open don't you? Knew you would. You're absolutely perfect for me. Just me. Isn't that right?" He grunts through his filthy words, each one punctuated with another forceful thrust.

"Yeah- yes. God- yes."

"Say it. Say your mine princess."

"I- I'm yours sir. All yours. N-no one else's. No one else could fuck me like this- m-make me feel like this. Just you. Holy sh-shit." You pant out. Spencer's thrusts are rocking the entire desk at this point and you are sure the skin where your hips are ramming against the edge will be sore tomorrow but right now all you can focus on is how good it feels to be fucked like this. Better than you imagined and god you hope he never stops.

"Good girl." He breathes out.

"Feels so good Professor." You whine.

"I know, fuck I know. You feel so perfect y/n." Spencer groans. His hand wraps around your throat and pulls your back against his chest as he fucks you. Spencer's other hand, slides across your waist, finding your clit easily. He toys with the bundle of nerves and your hands grip the edge of the desk as you whine.

"Oh my god." You gasp.

"Let go for me y/n. Wanna feel you on my dick."  Spencer says, kissing your shoulder. Your hand grabs at his arm desperate to ground yourself as your orgasm washes over you. Spencer hisses, your nails digging into his skin deliciously. His hips stutter and he groans, long and deep, as he spills into his condom, face buried in your neck. You both remain where you are, panting in the aftermath of it for several moments before Spencer breaks the silence.

"Did you have a condom because you planned on fucking Matt?" He asks and you can't help but laugh.

"No, I just always carry some. I like preparedness." You say, stuttering a bit when Spencer chooses to slip out of you while you speak.

"I'll have to start keeping some in here." He says, pulling his condom off and disposing of it.

"Planning on building a roster for yourself Professor Reid?" You quip adjusting yourself to lean back against the desk instead of still bending over it. Your tone is light but you'll admit you won't take it well if he says yes. Spencer frowns at you as he reaches into his desk for something.

"Is that a serious question?" He asks walking over to you with a packet of wipes in hand.

"Well it was a joke really but if you want to take it seriously be my guest." You shrug. He kneels in front of you, his frown deepening as he considers your words.

"No y/n I'm not 'building a roster'. The only person I'm planning on fucking in here is you, but it shouldn't be your responsibility to provide contraceptive methods for that. Also I've been inside you, I think you can call me Spencer when we're alone." He says gently cleaning you up. You try not to squirm at the intimacy of the whole thing.

"Oh. Okay." You can't think of anything else to say.

"Let me make something clear to you I'm not- I didn't just fuck you to get it out of my system and move on after this y/n. I'd actually like to continue something with you- unless of course, you have no interest in that, I won't pressure you. Although I can't imagine you can go back to Matt after that."

"You really hate him huh?" You laugh.

"He's a fine student. I just don't particularly like the way he drools over you." Spencer shrugs. "But it won't matter if you choose to see me again."

"I will. See you again I mean. This was fun." You say. A knock on the locked office door stops Spencer from speaking.

"Professor Reid?" A voice calls on the other side of the door. A student.

"Just a moment!" Spencer says, he quickly takes a moment to adjust your hair for you and pick up some of the scattered things from his desk while you fix your clothes.

"Spencer where is my underwear?!" You whisper at him.

"Oh I'll be holding onto that." Spencer winks at you, tapping his pocket where your panties are no doubt stuffed. You shoot him a look but grab your backpack and head towards the door.

"Thank you for answering my questions Professor! See you in class next week." You say loudly as you open the door. A boy you don't recognize is on the other side of it. He must be from one of Spencer's other sessions.

"Yes of course. See you next week." His response is almost dismissive, enough that this other student should have no idea what was going on before he showed up and only once you're practically out of the building do you let your giddy smile take over your face as you walk back to your apartment.

***

Part 2

[writerjayne]

Wymack owns apartments au

This was inspired by my friend and their wacky ass neighbors in their Apartment complex (including one who is apparently wanted by the police??) We were talking about said neighbors and I went: what if the Foxes lived in the same apartment? But Exy wasn't a thing because being a team gives them a common interest (using that word very loosely), and just being neighbors would not. So without further ado, have this AU that I'll probably never write a full fic of:

So, keeping Wymack in character: he owns an apartment complex focused on renting to people who would be rejected/denied housing by other companies. He inherited it from his parents who were awful to thier tennatns and borderline slumlords. Wymack poured everything he had into the apartments, renovating and modernizing them, determined to make something better than his parents could ever dream of. Wymack lives on the premises and every opportunity he has to do the opposite of what his parents would do, he does. 

Dan's a stripper and can only pay cash? She has an awful credit score, but hey, rent's getting paid, why would Wymack care? (Eventually, he rents some units to her stage sisters too) Matt eventually moves in with Dan, and Wymack doesn't bat an eye. 

Nicky showed up as a 19 year old with two 15 year olds who he has custody of? Wymack knocked a wall down between two units so they had 3 rooms (even if they stayed in each other's rooms half the time Wymack understood the twins may need space and privacy as they get older), and he gave them a discounted rate until Nicky got a solid job.

Kevin escapes his abusive adoptive family and runs to the only other person he knows outside of that circle. If he has no money/prospects? Wymack knew Kevin's mother, of course, he'll take the kid in, set him up with an assistant manager job, and get him enrolled in classes so he can get a certification while also helping Kevin with the legal side of things. Kevin sleeps on Wymack's couch for a month before he's comfortable having his own apartment.

Renee, needing to start over far away from her old gang? Her mother called Wymack and he had a unit free. She quickly befriends other tenants and suggests a community garden to Wymack who is happy to oblige. (Andrew often gardens with her and everyone thinks the friendship is weird) She and Andrew bond per canon and Renee becomes the heart of the complex and as much of a unifying force as she can be given the circumstances.

Allison, disowned and cut off from family money, with no job? Wymack sets her up with a unit and helps her apply for jobs, telling her she won't pay rent until she has a job, as long as she keeps applying. She finds a job within the month and Wymack holds off on charging her rent anyway.

Seth can't hold a job and has multiple evictions on his record? Wymack still gives him a chance. Second and third ones too when rent's not paid. Or when cops show up looking for him. Or when he starts fights with his neighbors. Wymack can see the scared kid who just needs someone to believe in him. 

So when Neil shows up, clearly trouble and too young to be on his own, desperately trying to come across as normal, Neil, who flinches when Wymack moves too fast, but offers enough cash to cover first and last months' rent plus double Wymack's normal deposit request? Wymack asks no questions and simply sets him up in the unit across from Nicky and the twins. 

It would be easy for them to be the kind of neighbors who never interact, but enough of our Foxes are friendly/nosey that I think they would all eventually become friends. So here's how I think some of that would happen:

Allison and Seth do date but it would be a lot more volatile than cannon (though never abusive) with lots of fighting that everyone else in the building just get used to. (Dan and Renee always check on Allison and Matt eventually becomes friends with and starts checking in with Seth too) 

Renee is everyone's friend and often bakes (just seems like her vibe) she unintentionally scares the crap out of Neil his first night by dropping off some chocolate chip cookies to welcome him to the building. (Much later, she's very apologetic about it, and Neil is able to acknowledge that it wasn't anyone's fault. Besides, he had never been upset with her over it, just cautious)

Nicky is the nosiest neighbor but not to the point of invading people's privacy. Anytime there's movement outside, he's peeking out the windows and has been known to crack the window open to listen to loud conversations/arguments outside. He does know everything about everyone even though he hasn't been here the longest.

Aaron is still going to med school, Andrew and Nicky are supporting him.

Andrew often goes up to the roof to smoke (boy likes to be tall) and this is how he and Neil actually meet face to face. (Andrew was aware that there was a new tenant but hadn't seen him) Neil sits up there to burn cigarettes and stargaze, kinda. Andrew immediately is like 'this kid is weird, let's figure out all his secrets,' and Neil is basically along for the ride.

Neil would still be on the run but maybe from just his dad, Mary did still die so Neil was desperate for a slice of normal and took a chance with Wymacks apartments. I haven't expanded this to much further than what I've shared here so I don't have all the answers or even a plot really but I think Neil would pull everyone together like canon.

Layout-wise (if you're curious), I'm picturing we have Building 1:

First floor- Dan and Matt in A1, Allison in A2, Renee in A3 and Seth in A4

Second floor- Nicky and the twins in unit A5 and A6. Across from them is Neil in A7 and Kevin in A8 

Basement has washers and dryers as well as storage units for each apartment. 

Building 2 has Wymack's double unit (B1 and B2), Kevin still crashes here sometimes but Wymacks door is always open to anyone who needs to talk. Abby also has a unit in building 2, B5, and she also helps out where she can. 

Building 3 has an assortment of different tenants, some of Dan's stage sisters, a couple small families and a couple single person units. 

[yeonbinwyd]

how you’ve been?

pairing: fem!reader x softdom! taehyun

synopsis: you and taehyun broke up a few months ago. He’s been missing you since but you would much rather not waste your time since he has so many other obligations at the moment.

genre (w/tags): smut, minors dni, breeding kink

Word count 1,494

a/n: I’ve been seeing so many taehyun edits it was his time LOL

It had been a while since you seen Taehyun on campus. Maybe he was purposely avoiding you. Maybe you were avoiding him. You would just go to class and go straight home. He did all the extra things. He was always left on campus throughout the day. It drove you insane since it seemed like he didn’t have time for dates or really take the time to spend with you. You wanted more than that. Everyone had been pushing you together since you both had came from the same high school but you’re a few years older. You also heard he’s also had a crush on you too. You both had a lot of mutual friends. Since you’re in your last semester, you don’t have a lot of classes and a full time job already lined up. Taehyun just wanted to enjoy his time there. You two just didn’t see eye to eye and it was obvious. When he initially asked you out, you were surprised. You didn’t seem like his type at all. He was cute and sweet so you went along with it. Dating him was fun while it lasted as well as it felt like you guys were getting close. You guys even talked about a future together but it just didn’t work.

It was Friday, finally you had your last class for the day and was ready to go home. Your professor asked you to stay since he had some questions for you about the assignment you turned in. You sighed but agreed. talking with him lasted a lot longer than expected. You finally race out the door but cross paths with Taehyun. You gave a thin lip smile while looking down trying to walk past.

“I’ve always hated that smile you do.” He chuckles. You look up at him and see a bright smile on his face. “I miss it though.” He admits. At this point, you stop in your tracks. As you turn back, he looks you dead in the eye. The two of you keep eye contact for a bit. His boba pearl eyes were your only weakness.

“I’ve really missed you” Taehyun admits again taking a few steps closer to you. The eye contact deepens. Reality sinks back in.

“I’ve got to get going” you try and slip away. Taking off without a second thought, you get going down the hall. He’s left in front of class, not even wanting to go anymore.

After that whole ordeal, your skin was begging for some self care. You took a bath, with a face mask, starting to wind down. Just as you were about to get relaxed in bed, You hear the doorbell. You heard the footsteps of your housemate going to the door. All you can hear is your housemate dab someone up like they haven’t seen this person in so long.

“Hey Y/n! Guess who’s here?” Your housemate calls out. You manage to leave your room, face mask still on.

“It’s Taehyun. “ Kai coos. He’s all smiles but you were horrified.

“Oh god Kai. Thanks for the warning” You snatch the mask off your face.

“Hey. I couldn’t stop thinking about you earlier. Thought I’d stop by.” Taehyun confesses. Yours and Kai’s eyes widen. Kai was a good mutual friend of his too.

“And I thought you’d be here to see me.” Kai gives a fake sigh in sarcasm leaving the two of you alone together.

“Could we talk?” Taehyun innocently eyes you up and down. You cave, letting him inside. You both take a seat in the living room, the same one that holds all the memories of you two together.

“It’s been a few months…” he starts. You nod in silence. You don’t even know what to say, how to respond.

“I quit swim and soccer.”

“What? You love those sports. Why did you quit?”

“You were right. I had too much going on. Now I can just focus on school.” He explains. “I also just wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking about you and us a lot. I know you’ve probably moved on but I’d hate myself if I never got a chance to tell you.” Taehyun looks at you with those eyes again. He really means it too.

“I’ve been missing you too. “You finally break your silence. He smiles so bright, his dimple shows through. That cute face of his was hard to stay mad at. He scoots closer to you, grabbing your hand.

“I’m sorry for how we ended things and how I treated you. Hurting you was the last thing I intended on doing. I was just kinda..”

“Self centered” you chime in. You both laugh.

“Yeah I can admit that now. I know this doesn’t make up for the past but just know you were the only one I ever thought about a future with.” He reveals. Those words felt like the first time hearing them. When you heard them the first time too, it made your stomach tie in a knot. You instinctively squeeze his hand. He took it as a sign, started to lean in for a kiss. You meet his lips with yours, cupping his face. A couple of pecks turned into a tongue war very quickly. His strong arms, begin to hug you close. Kai catches you two mid kiss and slips out the front door, really leaving you two alone. Taehyun lifts you, instinctively, you wrap your legs around him. He guides the two of you to your room, gently setting you down on your bed. Without wasting any time, you peel off each other’s clothes. He takes in the beauty of the curves that he missed.

“You’re so sexy” he compliments. Taehyun begins to leave kisses all over your body. First your neck, traveling all over. He can’t help but squeeze your stomach too. It’s his favorite place. You lie down to let him continue. He loves taking his time with you. Making sure every inch of you gets the love it deserves. Taehyun reaches your bikini line, his kisses get more aggressive.

“Can I get a taste?” He requests. You nod giving him the ok. Before you know it, he was exploring your cunt with his tongue. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure. The kisses were mixed with his tongue grazing you and his pillowy lips. Taehyun was in love with your pussy. He didn’t know how to control himself.

“Let me fuck you baby. Let me show you how much I want you.” Taehyun begs. Sex with him wasn’t like this before. He was nervous and didn’t talk much before. Something changed in him. He sat up before you, slowly taking the plunge inside you. Now he’s throwing his head back, unable to breathe, he feels so good. Taehyun starts to move but is gentle to start. He knew the animal inside him would come out but he wanted to make sure his angel was safe first. He picked up the pace with light strokes but even then drove him insane. Your soft moans were igniting him. Unable to contain himself, he picks you up, you wrap your legs around him again. He starts thrusting upwards while kissing you on the mouth.

“You’re mine. I’ll make you mine.” He manages to say in between kisses. His thrusts were becoming more rough, with each one getting deeper. You felt your grip getting weaker so he set you down but turned you around. Still standing, he fucks you from behind, holding on to your hips and stomach. You could feel his pumps in your tummy. He wasn’t letting up.

“You’re taking me so well baby. You’re such a good girl.” He grabs your neck, bringing you back to kiss him. Your moans filling the room. You started to cum but Taehyun wasn’t ready to let you go. He could feel you getting tighter around him. He lifts your legs up, holstering you as he continues. He turns you in front of your full length mirror. You see the two of you in full view.

“See how pretty you are? Oh god I need to keep you. Let me put this baby in you” he demands. At this point you’re seeing stars but he’s still going. Your cum dripping down his leg. You nod in agreement, unable to speak. His strokes pick up, his pants become louder and higher. He finally cums, shooting his far in you. The warmth fills you up. He sets you down in the bed while cuddling you. You’re still unable to think straight. Taehyun didn’t let go. Maybe he meant it?

[willowswiththorns]

hello um could you do a sfw alphabet for tod waggner from final destination 1 ,hope I'm not being to much of a bother have a good day/night!

Hey! Sorry for the late reply, I’m more than happy to do this! I’ve never written for the character, so any feedback would be much appreciated! Also I apologize for any grammar issues, I did this half asleep. For some reason I started to write out the name Troy instead of Tod? Yeah no, I made sure to fix it. Hope you enjoy!! -Willow

Tod Waggner Sfw Alphabet

A = Affection (are they affectionate with you?)

Yes! Not full on making out in public like Carter, but he definitely would be down to hold your hand. His favorite thing to do is wrap his arm around you, letting his hand lay lazily at your shoulder as you both walk.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Todd definitely comes off as a best friend. In fact the first thing that really made him nervous was that whenever he was trying to court you, he just comes off as just being friendly. This poor guy can’t catch a break.

For y’all’s friendship to start, you would definitely have to be introduced to him. That or he’d see you, thought you were really attractive, and instantly try to get close to get to know you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

For Tod specifically, he seems like the type of guy to just be a big spoon. He likes to just slowly wrap his arms around you and cuddle for a bit.

Now he’ll never say no to being a little spoon. If you insist, he has not trouble laying his head on your chest and dozing off.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

This man is definitely down to come over to your place and cook dinner for you. He wants to try and make you happy.

When it comes to settling down, he’s still got commitment to school first. So the idea of him sweeping you off your feet right away is slim. He wants to at least finish all his classes before thinking of settling down.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Now breaking it off would be a hard thing for Tod to do. He’d have to work up himself to even try to break it off in person. But when he does, he’ll try to come off as if it doesn’t really hurt him making this decision. In reality when ever he’s done breaking up, he’ll probably cry at home when he’s alone.

Though the likely hood of him breaking it off is slim, he would be the type to try and make it work. That and if it’s following the storyline, he wouldn’t have a moment to break it off . If ykyk 💀

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

As stated earlier, he’s a loyal partner to have. That being said however with school going on, he’d have a hard time trying to get to the point of marriage.

Now let’s just say in an AU where he survives the events, he’d want to marry you as soon as he graduated and landed a pretty decent job. Tod seems like the type to want to atleast be financially stable before moving forward in the relationship.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He’s super gentle with his partner. Tod wouldn’t be overly cautious or anything when it comes to holding you , but he would ask if he could kiss you or hold your hand.

He doesn’t want to screw up the potential relationship between you, so he’s gentle in an emotional manner too. The only time where he’s not trying to talk it out is if y’all are having an argument in the heat of the moment. But even after that argument, he would be quick to try and fix anything he said impulsively.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

This man gives side hugs to acquaintances and pat hugs to friends/family. This is definitely the vibe he gives off.

Now for you, he’ll do a mixture of the two at times unless you’re both alone. Then he gives you nice, long hugs while he just rests his head on your shoulder/top of the head ( depends on your height)

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

This poor man can’t figure out when the right time would be to drop those words. Especially when he’s chilling with George and Alex and opening up the worry, they accidentally scare him about how it can make the situation weird if he’s saying it too fast in the relationship.

Tod would have to think and plan the best time to drop those words, not wanting it to be too fast or too late in the relationship. He’ll figure out the perfect moment when the time is right.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He’s honestly not really the jealous type. The most he’ll do is roll his eyes if some guy/girl is trying to impress you. That or make a small snarky remark to remind the person that he’s right here listening to them poorly attempt to flirt with you.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Kissing has always been something he’s been wanting to try with you. He kisses you on the third date before you start heading home. It was slow kiss, mostly due to him being awkward and giving you time to pull away if you don’t want it.

Now further on in the relationship, he’s prone to do little pecks on your cheeks and lips. Of course, he has his moments of doing another romantic kiss, but he likes to do the small pecks because half the time it’s when you’re passing down the halls.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s very awkward around children, they’re gross,loud, and sometimes tries to hand you a wet Cheeto with their sticky hands. Like where did this kid find a Cheeto? Yeah no, he’s not too fond of being near children. He doesn’t mind them, just prefers to not be near them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

In the mornings Tod has trouble actually getting up. He tends to skip breakfast so he’ll have more time to sleep in since he has trouble sleeping at night. If you sleep over at some point, he’ll actually get up the same time as you and join the family for breakfast ( much to his parents surprise ).

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Most nights are spent watching movies with him, George, and Alex. You’ve sort of been dragged into their little friend group since you’ve been hanging with Tod more often. All four of you eat pizza and talk about the movie being watched, or playing video games. Overall a fun night.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He isn’t much for revealing his feelings right away, fearing that you might think he’s weird. At most times, Tod tends to stray away from being too emotionally attached until he knows you reciprocate the same feelings. Usually this’ll take a few months until you finally get all of him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Tod’s rage is almost non existent. At most he’ll get frustrated and be easily snarky. Like if you and him are fighting, the chances of him getting in your face and screaming is zero. However you will get some snarky responses instead so be prepared.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Tod is the type of guy to just notice things you like and don’t like when you’re both out together. Telling him upfront is good too, but for the most part he likes learning things about you on his own. So that one time when you’re having a bad day and he pulls up with your favorite snack or drink, it’ll be worth it to see you smile. He wants you to know he pays attention in his own way.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment would have to be whenever you initiated a small make out session. To him this was confirmation that you wanted to kiss him. That you wanted to actually want him. It makes his cheeks turn pink just thinking about it.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s the type to step in front if someone is getting too violent near you. If someone almost bumps into you during a scuffle, 9/10 he’s taking that bump before you. He doesn’t want you to get caught in any crossfire.

Now for Tod , he’d prefer to be defended verbally. He can take his own in a fight, but sometimes he can’t do the who verbal fighting. But if you defend him in an argument, he’ll respect you a lot.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Now he’ll try and say he’s not putting in too much effort, but really he already had it thought out. He just wants to make you think that the gift itself was just a casual thing, but this man probably almost fought in a store just to get something he knew you’d like.

This also goes into anniversaries. Hell show his effort a bit more strongly, but still try to look a bit casual about all the planning . He wants you to think he’s the type of guy that just naturally is romantic, when really he’s been planning all this out for months.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

The poor boy has a tendency of biting his nails when he’s stressed. It’s gotten so bad that his nails are almost completely short all the time.

Tod also has a habit of being a bit dismissive whenever he’s anxious, he’s the type of guy to write something off in a way to try and not worry about it. If he thinks he has an answer, he’ll just stick to that conclusion.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Tod is very hygienic and clean himself up very nice, how ever he doesn’t give the type of guy to really worry too much about how he looks.

He just wants to make sure you like what you see. As long as you do, he’ll make sure that he takes care of himself.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Tod understands that you’d need your space time to time, but he’d preferred you come back soon. The idea of being away from you so long tends to scare him.

Post flight 180, he’s more antsy than ever. He tries to stay by your side just in case something happens. He says it’s to comfort you, but really it comforts him a lot. He can’t imagine a life without you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Definitely the kind of guy to make some thought out plan to hit on you. He’ll purposefully try to bump into you just to get the chance to talk to you.

When the boy falls hard for someone, he tends to try to not look them in the eye.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He’s not really into anyone that bashes his interests. If you crack a joke at something he likes, he’ll laugh with you. However if you try to make fun of him constantly over something he enjoys doing, he’ll probably feel uncomfortable around you.

If you’re mean to his brother George for no real reason, he’s more than happy to walk the other way. His brother means everything to him, so he doesn’t take someone talking about his brother lightly.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Tod doesn’t really sleep well most of the time. Usually he can get away with small naps here and there, but it’s rare he ever gets more than 6 hours in.

Sleep positions always range from sleeping on his left side with his arm resting underneath his head or lying on his stomach with his limbs stretched out a bit.

Cuddling with him should be very interesting to try. He gives off the vibes of hogging a few blankets when he finally does get to sleep.

[cap-trio]

promised to another (full series)

summary: Things with Steve were perfect, like a never ending honeymoon phase. You ignored all the warnings from friends about how that stage doesn't last long, because you know you and Steve aren't like everyone else. But you should've listened.

Your relationship shifted gradually - fewer date nights, going to bed alone while Steve worked a second job, and feeling like you've been put on the back burner. When he suggests taking a break you feel your world crumble around you.

During that time you run into your ex, Bucky. Your first love, the right person at the wrong time, the one who got away. As you reconnect, old feelings resurface that complicate everything. Do you hope that things with Steve will work out, or do you take a risk and try again with Bucky?

pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

tags: Modern AU, cheating, angst, exes to lovers, fluff, second chance romance, based on a Taylor Swift song (Ivy).

word count: 13k

note: i posted each chapter individually but i also wanted to post them all together in case people prefer to read it that way. you can find individual chapters here.

Things with Steve started like a dream.

You met him while taking an art class in college. After arriving late on the first day, you took the only open seat next to him. Your first impression was how handsome he was, like he stepped right out of a Disney movie where he played the prince. Intimidating, but with a softness that drew you in. From day one, you knew you were in trouble.

Things progressed slower than you had hoped. It took until halfway through the semester before your first date, months of flirting and dropping hints before he got the courage to ask. You found it sweet how nervous he was asking you to grab coffee, and how he seemed surprised you said yes. 

Dates became a weekly occurrence; trips to art museums, picnics in the park, and failed attempts to cook dinner for each other were interrupted by setting off the fire alarm. Things felt too good to be true; college guys did not act like Steve. All they wanted to do was “watch” Netflix in their filthy dorm rooms and hook up. Somehow, you hit the jackpot. By the end of the semester, you two were official.

Steve proposed the day after graduation. It was an obvious yes, and the two of you moved into a small Brooklyn apartment. It felt more like a shoebox, but the two of you were so in love that it felt like home from the second you signed the lease. Steve got a job teaching art at a local community college, saving every penny he could for the perfect engagement ring. Within a year and a half, you two were married. It wasn’t anything fancy; you both were too excited to be husband and wife to care too much about how it happened, but it was still perfect. 

People warned that the honeymoon phase would wear off, and you always scoffed at that. The honeymoon phase began at that coffee shop on campus and never faltered, growing stronger with every minute spent together. Sometimes, you were almost annoyed at how you became one of those sickenly sweet couples that you used to make fun of with your friends. But then you knew how it felt to be a part of one, and you regret everything you said about them. You two were in your own little bubble.

But unfortunately, that bubble popped.

The shift didn't happen all at once. It was a gradual thing, a dark shadow slowly creeping in unnoticed, until everything was covered in black. Date nights were canceled when Steve would get stuck at office hours. Texts and phone calls went unanswered because he was busy. No more surprising you with your favorite flowers “just because.” Stress about money turned into him getting a second job. Hardly seeing each other, and when you did, Steve was always exhausted or distracted. Fights about how you felt like he wasn't putting in an effort, only for him to argue that everything he was doing was for you. 

It wore you down. You stopped trying to squeeze dates onto the calendar, sending pictures of random things around the city that reminded you of him, or staying up late hoping to get just a few minutes with him. You gave up, and so did he.

Maybe this is it, you would think to yourself. But you still loved him, and you knew he loved you too. It was just a rough spot, a thunderstorm interrupting sunny days, that would be over before you knew it. 

And then Steve took a needle to your bubble by suggesting a break. 

You were adamantly against it. “How is that the best solution? We already don't see each other, and now, what, you think staying apart is going to help?” 

“I think it gives us room to think. Reevaluate. See if we’ve grown apart, or if this makes us miss each other,” he’d said. “I already found a place to stay, so you don't need to worry about that.”

If we miss each other. Like you haven't already missed him for months. Like he doesn't miss you, and that he never will. 

“I guess you made my decision for me then, huh? Just like how “everything you're doing is for me”? I think that's a lame excuse to push me away, and congratulations because it worked,” you scoffed. 

Neither of you said a word as he packed his bags. He was already slipping through your fingers, and at some point, you knew you’d have to accept that he’d let go. 

Almost two months had passed. Steve took a part of you with him that left you hollow, just going through life on autopilot. At first, you would talk a few times a week, even met up for dinner once, but it wasn't enough. Things felt strained and forced, every conversation made you feel worse about the state of your relationship. 

How can I grieve someone who's still alive? 

It was something you asked yourself daily. Your marriage wasn't officially dead, but it might as well have been. Neither one of you were brave enough to admit it, leaving you in a waiting game of who would crack first. 

But then came an unexpected bright spot.

It was a random Tuesday after work. After a rough shift, you decided to stop at your favorite coffee shop as a treat. You were almost out of the door when you spotted him. It had been years since you’d seen him, but you’d recognize him anywhere. Long, dark hair, soft blue eyes, a physique most men dream of. 

Bucky Barnes. AKA, your ex-boyfriend.

Before Steve, there was Bucky. He was your first real love, your first everything. You met him at freshman orientation, and things escalated quickly. At first it scared you, but there was something addictive about Bucky. Most of your friends chalked it up to it being your first taste of freedom after high school, your first college fling, but you knew it was more than that. 

He was there on a baseball scholarship. After a bad arm injury, he was deemed unable to play and couldn’t afford the tuition on his own, so he was forced to move back home and find a job. You were convinced you’d survive long distance, that he could save up and come back, or you’d visit whenever you could. But between him working full time and you being busy with school, things didn’t work out. Bucky didn’t want to get in the way of you enjoying college and tie you down, so he let you go. It crushed both of you, but ultimately, you both knew it was the right decision. Right person, wrong time.

He was there for you during those homesick phases and nights when you weren’t sure college was for you. He brought you out of your shell, introducing you to new people and playing tourist around campus to make it feel special. Whenever you got the inevitable sickness spreading around the dorm, he’d be there with homemade soup and every kind of medicine. It was like living in a rom-com. 

You tried moving on; hookups that left you empty, dating app conversations that hardly led to a first date, and when they did, you never saw them again. It wasn’t until you met Steve the following year that you felt something real again. But even then, it was different than what you felt for Bucky. 

Bucky would sometimes slip into your mind, and it always made you feel guilty. Steve was great, borderline perfect, yet you couldn’t help but reminisce about what you had with Bucky. And now here he was, and all those memories came rushing back.

“Bucky?” You asked to make sure you weren’t imagining things. 

His eyes widened when he saw you. Immediately, he stood up from the table and pulled you in for a hug. “Holy shit,” he laughed. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“Of course not.” Always a gentleman, he pulled out your seat for you. “So, how have you been?”

“Uh, I’ve been good,” you flashed your best fake smile. “Remember that internship I was hoping for? They hired me and offered me a job after graduation, so I’ve been there for a few years now. Got a small apartment over in Brooklyn.”

You watch his eyes flick down to your wedding ring. You hadn’t realized you’d been fidgeting with it until he caught you. His face hardens, his jaw tensing for a second before he forces a strained smile.

“Got married too, I see.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “Two years. His name’s Steve.”

“I’m happy for you.” You know he’s being genuine, though you can hear a tinge of regret in his voice. Bucky was never the jealous type, and how could he be after all these years? He just wishes things could’ve been different between you. 

He watches your face fall. “Is everything alright?”

“Can we not talk about him, actually? Sorry, I just…would rather not.”

“Yeah, of course. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” An awkward beat passes. This isn’t how you dreamt running back into Bucky would look. “So, what have you been up to?”

He notices the way you quickly glance down at his hands. No ring, you note, not that it even matters. “I just got promoted to general manager of the bookstore down on Third Street, and I’ve been helping coach the Little League baseball team. Makes me miss playing, but I love helping the kids and seeing how much fun they’re having.”

Picturing him out on the field coaching those kids makes your heart ache in the best way. “Congratulations! I remember you mentioning how much you love that store, and how frustrated you’d get because I refused to pick up a book, so I let you give me a mini book report. And those kids couldn’t have a better coach, they’re lucky to have you.”

Bucky laughs at the memory. “Sorry you had to hear all my ramblings. At least now I get paid for it. And thanks, that means a lot.”

“Don’t apologize, I loved hearing how passionate you were. It’s one of my favorite things about you.”

Shit. Admitting that shifts the vibe of the conversation; there’s no way he doesn’t feel it too. It makes you think of the other things you liked about him, in turn bringing back memories of your relationship. It’s too much, too fast, like a dam bursting open in front of your eyes.

“Really?” He leans forward. “Do tell, what are your other favorite things about me?” He tries to sound serious, but starts laughing almost immediately after. He’s always been good at taking an awkward moment and shifting it around. Something else you like about him.

“So you’ve gotten full of yourself these past couple of years, huh?” You tease. 

“Oh yeah, got a huge ego now. Having the kids tell me I’m the best coach they’ve ever had has really done a number on me.”

“I can see how that would,” you smile.

Another beat passes. “I’m really glad we ran into each other.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I never reached out, it was just…” You trail off.

“Too painful?” He finishes.

You nod. It’s not the best excuse, but at least he understands. “When I moved here, I didn’t know if you were still around, or if you’d even want to see me if you were. I wouldn’t have even known what to say. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he shrugs. “I understand. I thought about calling a few times, but I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything. But now that you’re back, I’d really like to see you again.”

“I’d like that too.”

You exchange numbers and promises that you’ll call soon. For the first time in two months, you feel lighter, like the sun is finally shining after nothing but gray skies.

You can’t stop thinking about Bucky.

It all feels so ridiculous; this isn’t high school where you daydream about the cute guy from math class you’re crushing on. But one thing about Bucky is that he was always able to make you feel like that 

A week of this goes by before you decide to go see him. You’re convinced once you get used to seeing him more, all of these complicated feelings will disappear. As you walk into the bookstore where he works, the mix of books and coffee fill your senses, and you realize it’s how he smelled at the cafe last week. Anxiety sets in now that you’re here; what if he isn’t working today? What if he was just being friendly last week, and he doesn’t actually want to see you again? Bucky isn’t the type to do that, but maybe he’s changed over the years.

“I’ll be right with you!” His voice calls from a few shelves over. 

You try looking through the titles but your mind is running a mile a minute and you can’t focus on anything. You nervously fiddle with the ends of your sleeves when you spot Bucky walking over. Once he registers it’s you, his eyes light up and he breaks into a grin.

“Hey! I wasn’t expecting you.” Like last time, he pulls you in for a hug. The contact is enough to give you goosebumps. How pathetic, you think to yourself. It’s just because I’m touch starved, you try to tell yourself. 

“Hi! I’m glad you’re here; I wanted to surprise you but didn’t account for the fact you might not be working.”

“I’m usually here even when I’m off the clock,” he laughs. “So, a surprise, huh? Couldn’t stop thinking about me?”

You flush like you’ve been caught. Back in college you used to think Bucky was a flirt with everyone. You would laugh off his attempts at first, not thinking much of them, but then you noticed he wouldn’t do that around friends or the other girls on campus. He’s always been like that with you, and despite how messed up it is that you’re hoping that’s his intention now, you know he’s just teasing. 

It takes you a second to be able to calm down and reply. You watch his face fall, the light dim from his eyes, and you know he’s about to apologize but you cut him off with a laugh. “Yeah, you wish. I’m actually one of those secret shoppers here to make sure you’re doing your job.”

“Hm, I didn’t think secret shoppers revealed their identity,” he jokes. “If you’re here for book recommendations, I’m your guy.” 

“Still not a reader, unfortunately. I wanted to see you in your element.”

“Let me show you around.”

He starts at the front with the new books section. Next is romance, then mystery, and when he takes you by the fantasy section you see a handwritten note in front of one of the books. You recognize his handwriting and stop to read it. 

“We have those throughout the store. Whenever an employee likes a book, I have them write why they’d recommend them. It was actually my idea to start it.”

“I’m impressed, Buck. You’ve really found your calling.”

You aren’t sure why it makes you a little emotional. Maybe it’s because he seems so settled, so content with the life he’s built. Of course you’re happy for him. But you can’t help thinking it’s good things didn’t work out between you two, even though that stings, because maybe he might not have ended up here.

“Ah, thanks. I’ve been really happy here.” His eyes quickly glance down to your ring finger. He doesn’t think you notice, but you do. “What about you? Are you happy?”

It’s a loaded question. Right here, with Bucky? Yes. When you go home to an empty apartment? No. At work, doing what you’ve always dreamt of? Yes. Desperately checking your phone for any word from Steve, but hearing nothing? No.

You can’t possibly dump all of that on him. Not while he’s working, and not when you’re just reconnecting. So you put on a hopefully convincing smile. “Yeah. Work’s been great. Not a lot of people love what they do, so I feel lucky. The one thing I wish I did more is explore the city, though. Haven’t been getting the full experience of being a New Yorker.”

Steve is more of a homebody. Besides going to the art museums, nothing in the city interests him much. As a born and bred Brooklyn kid, the excitement of the Big Apple wore off pretty quickly. He’d rather catch a movie, grab dinner at the same spots, or hang out in the park when the weather allows for it. You stopped mentioning going out more when he shot it down every time. 

Bucky desperately wants to know why you haven’t mentioned the elephant in the room. Despite his curiosity, he’ll never force you to talk about something that makes you uncomfortable. He isn’t jealous, but he’s hurt that you feel like you can’t talk about it with him. At first he worried something serious was going on and you were scared to get help, or that you’re widowed and it was too painful to talk about. Bucky would never admit this to anyone, but he did some social media stalking (on a friend’s account, he never understood the point of all the apps), and saw what’s practically a gallery of your love for Steve.

As of the last month, though, the exhibit seems to be closed. No more pictures of a happy couple, but rather photos of you with friends, shots around Brooklyn, or whatever inspired you in the moment. But the photos with Steve still remained. Bucky was relieved it wasn’t what he originally thought, but it pains him that you’re unhappy. 

“Could it also have something to do with running into me?” He smirks. 

You roll your eyes. “There’s that ego again. But yes, that’s a factor too.”

Here you go again, turning a friendly, bantering moment into something more weighted. 

“I’m really happy, too.”

Bucky can be to blame now too. It’s the way he’s looking at you - eyes softening, then glancing down to your lips, before returning to intense eye contact that would make you feel uncomfortable with anyone else. With him, it makes you feel like the most important person in the world. He’s always able to make you feel like this.

“So!” Bucky says, too loud and abrupt, “I’ve gotta get back to work, but what are you up to this weekend?”

“Depends what you have in mind,” you tease. As if you wouldn’t cancel any plans for him.

“Well, I was thinking how you said before that you’ve barely been into the city, so how about we be tourists for the day? We could hit up all the obvious sights, and I could show you some hidden gems too.”

Just like in college, he knows exactly how to make me feel better, you think. “I’m in, but only if we get matching I heart New York shirts.”

“That’s first on the agenda, obviously”

“Perfect. I’ll see you Saturday, then.”

He almost says “it’ll be a date”, but he settles with, “Looking forward to it.”

On your way out, an employee near the front smiles at you. “I can finally put a name to the face.”

You freeze. “Excuse me?”

“Sorry, that came out weird. I’m Sam, Bucky’s friend. He always talks about this girl from college, and I’m assuming that’s you?”

“Oh, yeah that’s me. It’s nice to meet you.” Trying to sound casual, you ask him what Bucky’s said about you.

“I don’t want to get involved in whatever’s going on, but I promise it’s all positive.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I’ll see you around, Sam.”

Whatever’s going on? What does he mean by that? Did he pick up on the weird tension? Surely that meant Bucky did too. And what exactly has he been telling people about you? After all this time, you’re still on his mind. All of this information after that moment with Bucky makes you feel dizzy with excitement. And a mix of nerves, too. 

As you walk back outside, mind still reeling from your interaction with Sam, you pull your phone out to see two missed calls from Steve. Shit, shit, shit. You call him back immediately and he picks up on the second ring.

“Hey, is everything okay? It’s not like you to not answer.”

“Yeah, sorry. I was at the movies with Nat. Is everything okay with you?”

Guilt washes over you. Steve trusts you, he even knows about Bucky, but you selfishly want to keep these moments with Bucky all to yourself. 

“Yeah, I just feel like we haven’t talked in a while and…I miss you.”

He adds those last three words like they’re an afterthought, something he felt like he had to say, not something he wanted to. “I miss you too. What’ve you been up to?”

“Remember that opening at work I was telling you about? I just found out I got it. I can finally be back to a regular schedule.” 

“Steve, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you, we should celebrate!” He definitely never mentioned it before. Still, you feel lighter at the news. No more stress about money, no more lonely nights while he’s at work. He can come home and everything will be okay. 

“That’s not necessary; it’s not a huge deal. I just feel so relieved.”

“Me too, you can come back home and we’ll have so much more time together.”

A beat passes. Your stomach sinks. 

“Oh, I uh…I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

“No, it’s alright. I’m sure it won’t be much longer, okay? I just need some more time.”

“I understand,” you sigh. “We’ll talk soon, yeah? I love you.”

“Yeah, love you too.” Steve always says ‘I love you.’ Maybe he didn’t realize, but that combined with declining your offer to celebrate feels intentional. If the thing that was getting in the way of your relationship is gone, and he’s still not ready to come home and work on things, what is it going to take?

You barely sleep the next couple of days. During the few hours you do manage to get, you dream of two things: Bucky, or romantic moments with Steve where he morphs into Bucky halfway through. It messes with your head so much that you choose to be exhausted instead of dealing with it. 

Steve becomes distant again after the phone call. The dreams make you feel so guilty that you make an effort to reach out more, but you’re met with silence or half assed responses. You worry that he somehow knows what’s been going on, but you know the lack of sleep plays a big factor in the paranoia.

By the time Saturday rolls around you’re close to canceling on Bucky. But then he sends you a photo of him in the t-shirts he promised to get, his smile so wide it makes his eyes crinkle, and you know you can’t back out. 

You agree to meet at the Red Steps in Times Square. The sea of tourists should make it difficult to find you, but he spots you almost immediately. When your eyes meet, he has the same look as when you ran into him at the coffee shop and surprised him at work – pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Your uniform, as promised.” Bucky hands you the I Heart New York shirt and you slip it over your tank top, trying to ignore how couple-y the matching outfits make you look. “So, I may or may not have been up all night planning for today, but I have a detailed list to make sure today is perfect.”

“Oh, Bucky, you didn’t have to do that. I should’ve helped you.”

He shrugs it off. “It really was no problem, and it was my idea anyway. I want to make this special for you.”

“Well, still, it means a lot.”

I could kiss him, you think, and it terrifies you. You shake off the thought and ask what’s first on the list.

“I thought we could walk around here, go into some of the stores, maybe take pictures with the creepy characters along the way.”

“Sounds great,” you laugh. As you walk through the crowds and past the giant advertisements, Bucky thinks about how easy it’d be to reach out and hold your hand. But he thinks about the ring and the pictures of you with Steve and keeps his hand by his side.

“This is only the third time I’ve ever been here,” Bucky says.

“It’s my second. I dragged Ste-, I mean uh, a friend the first time,” you stammer. Bucky pretends not to notice. 

“Is it better this time around?” 

“Can I be honest? I don’t get the hype,” you confess. The streets are just lined with tourist shops, restaurants, and stores you could find at a mall. Nothing too enticing. Not to mention the weird smells around every corner and all the people bumping into you, in a rush to go buy a magnet or something.

“Trust me, I don’t either, but this is the quintessential tourist spot. Everything’s just so loud and bright, like I’m staring at the sun while it yells at me.”

He pulls you into probably the tenth gimmicky knick-knack store you’ve passed in a mile radius. You two marvel over the amount of things they’ve managed to fit into the tiny space; it’s filled to the brim with mugs, snow globes, magnets, and anything else they thought to stick New York City on. Bucky grabs a Statue of Liberty headband and gently places it on your head with a laugh.

“How do I look?” 

“Just like her,” he teases. “Actually, I lied. You look prettier.”

He doesn’t mean for it to sound so flirty. It was meant to just be a friendly, casual compliment. But Bucky doesn’t know how to act like that around you, not when all he can think about is how things used to be.

You take it off to place on his head. “It suits you better.” 

I could kiss you, Bucky thinks. He shoves the thought deep down and moves on. 

“Ready for the next spot?” He asks, and just like that, the moment’s over. You should be relieved, but you’re only focusing on the way he said you look prettier. 

“Lead the way.”

Funnily enough, spot number two is the Statue of Liberty. It’s breathtaking to see up close, and you can’t wrap your head around Bucky thinking you come close in comparison. 

“It’s beautiful,” you whisper, like you’re in a trance.

“Yeah, it really is,” he agrees. “I wasn’t expecting to be so amazed.”

“We should take a picture, to remember how we’re feeling right now.”

Bucky hands his phone off to a nearby couple and comes to stand by you. Without thinking, he slings his arm around your shoulder and you instinctively lean into him. He turns to look at you right as the flash goes off, and you turn to meet his gaze as the second picture is taken. The woman calls for his attention three times before you two snap out of it.

He takes a noticeably large step away from you. “I’ll send them to you.”

You continue walking around the base of the statue in silence. After you’ve made it all the way around, Bucky suggests moving on to the next destination: the Empire State Building. 

“It’s a great day for this,” you say, referring to the bright blue, nearly cloudless sky. 

“Definitely.”

He leaves it at that, not even engaging in small talk. On the elevator ride up, you notice him getting a little paler and gripping the railing. He catches you staring and says it’s just motion sickness. But once the elevator doors open and you make your way over the lookout spot, he hangs back near the wall.

“Shit, are you afraid of heights?”

Bucky nods. “I thought I’d grown out of it, but…”

“Bucky! Why would you take us here then?” 

“I wanted you to have fun, and we couldn’t not come here.”

Because I’d do anything for you, he thinks.

“I can’t have fun knowing you’re miserable. Let’s just skip this, okay?”

“I’ll be fine, really.” He slowly peels himself away from the wall. You go over to the railing and look out, admiring the view. Bucky joins a few moments later and grips the guardrail so tight his knuckles turn white. You reach over and grab his hand and he visibly relaxes. Not completely, but enough to loosen his grip and take a deep breath at least. 

“I’ll never get over how beautiful it is here,” he comments. 

“Me either,” you agree. “I don’t think I could live anywhere else.”

You two sit in a comfortable silence, admiring the view, and you don’t bother moving your hand. You take a few pictures, and when a family behind you clears their throats loudly to say move along so Bucky leads you back to the elevator. His hand flexes when you let go as he resists the urge to reach for you again. It’s natural for Bucky to want to fall back into how things used to be with you; he didn’t realize he’s been craving you all these years, and all these little tastes of you aren’t enough. He wants the whole thing. But like before, he bottles those feelings up and pushes on.

“And last but not least, Central Park,” he announces as you walk up to the entrance. “I thought I could grab us some snacks and we could have a little picnic.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll find us a spot.”

You luck out with a nice, shaded area with a great view. Bucky shows up ten minutes later with two bags full of food, and you gasp in surprise when you see all of your favorite snacks. It didn’t occur to you that you didn’t tell him what to get you before he went into the store.

“You remembered?”

“Well, yeah. I remember everything about you,” he says softly.

You decide to be vulnerable too. “I remember everything too.” 

And for the second time today, you think about kissing him. 

Changing the subject before you do or say something stupid, you add, “I bet I can guess everything in that bag.”

“Really? Go on, then.”

As you list the items off, Bucky pulls them out of the bag and laughs in disbelief when you get each one right. “Color me impressed,” he muses.

“I bet I remember your favorite color, too.” You’re crossing a dangerous line, bringing up things from the past like this, but you can’t seem to make yourself care. In fact, you find it exciting. To ease the guilt, you tell yourself it’s all harmless fun. 

“What, are you trying to make this a competition?” 

“Are you scared?” You don’t realize you’ve both leaned in, intending to be intimidating, until his eyes glance down to your lips and you pull back like you’ve been shocked.

Bucky clears his throat. “Not at all. I’d like a prize when I win though.”

“Cocky,” you laugh. “Loser buys the winner a drink?”

He reaches his hand out to shake. “You’re on.”

The competition goes on until the sun begins to set. You guess his favorite color right (green), he guesses yours right too. He guesses your favorite movie (technically half a point, he says your old favorite but you still give him something), and you get his right (the first in the Hobbit trilogy). He challenges you to guess his favorite book, despite your protest that that’s impossible, but you try anyway. You end up guessing his second favorite, making you lose the game when he gets your favorite song right.

“This is a perfect segue into our last stop. It’s hard to have a true hidden gem here with social media and everything, but there’s a rooftop bar with an amazing view that I love. It shouldn’t be too busy tonight.”

“A rooftop? I thought you and heights don’t mix.”

“If I’m enclosed it’s not too bad, and I always sit far away from the windows.”

Once you arrive, the view makes you gasp. Amazing is an understatement. The sky looks like a painting, mixtures of pink and orange swirled together to create a picture so stunning it should be in the Louvre. 

“I may be overreacting, but I’m mesmerized,” you say, unable to look away.

“I am too,” Bucky whispers. But he’s not looking at the view.

You turn towards him and catch him staring, watching the blush make its way from the tips of his ears to his cheeks. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again when the bartender comes over. He’s grateful for the interruption; what was he even planning on saying? Nothing that would’ve made the situation less awkward, that’s for sure. 

Bucky orders for you, unofficially continuing the game from before and laughs when you roll your eyes. “Such a show off,” you huff.

“Sore loser,” he counters, lips quirked up to one side before taking a sip of his beer. 

“Oh, you’ve uh, got something…” you trail off, reaching forward to wipe the foam away without thinking. As you do, your eyes glance down Bucky’s mouth, sending a buzz through him.

He’s not sure how much longer he’s going to be able to hold himself back. And he doesn’t even want to, which scares him. 

You’re facing the same dilemma. Tension grows with each passing second you spend together, building its way up to something big. But it can’t get to that point. You don’t focus on how disappointing the reminder makes you. Ignoring things always works out…right?

“Sorry,” you mumble, scooting your stool a noticeable distance back. 

“Don’t be. I…” Didn’t mind? Want you to touch me again? Nothing he thinks of to say will make the situation less charged, so he changes the subject to something safe. “How’s your drink?”

“Pretty good. Probably better than your disgusting beer.”

Bucky is so grateful you move on from whatever that moment was. “Sorry I have sophisticated taste buds and can enjoy things that don’t taste like juice.”

“Hmm, funny, I seem to remember you liking these back in college,” you quip.

“You know how they say your brain isn’t fully developed until you’re 25? I think that applies to taste buds too.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself to feel better.”

He laughs and orders another round when the bartender checks in. A second leads to a third, and the picturesque sunset has long faded to black, the lights of the city taking its place. When you let out a yawn, Bucky decides it’s time to end the night.

The alcohol hits you all at once when you stand up; the room starts to spin when you stand, making you lose your balance. Bucky’s hand reaches out to steady you and goosebumps form under his touch. “Careful,” he warns.

“I’m alright,” you insist, but your body says otherwise. When you try to walk, your legs feel wobbly and you fall into him. His arm snakes around your waist as he leads you out of the bar. 

“Can you grab a taxi for me?”

“I don’t feel safe having you get home on your own. Would you feel okay staying at my place tonight?”

Maybe it’s the alcohol talking, but you take him up on the offer. Sober you would be thinking of the implications of spending the night, but drunk you is only thinking of curling up somewhere comfortable and going to sleep.

You start to doze off on the cab ride to his apartment. The ride lets you sober up enough that you can walk on your own, but everything still feels a little fuzzy. Bucky leads you into his place, and you’re unsurprised it looks similar to his place back in college. He’s a minimalist with everything except books; shelves line the walls, and some are scattered around the coffee table. A few picture frames decorate said table, mostly him with family and friends. He used to keep everything sentimental in a box near his bed, and when you asked why, he said “In case of an emergency, I have everything I’d want to save in one spot.” You wonder if he still has one, and what the contents are now. 

“Do you want to borrow something more comfortable for bed?”

You nod and he slips into the bedroom, returning with an old shirt and basketball shorts. After changing in the bathroom, you walk out to see him making a bed for himself on the couch. He pauses when he sees you, his eyes trailing down your body. The attention makes you feel like you’re on fire. 

“I’m not making you sleep on your own couch, Buck.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “And you’re the guest.”

The alcohol takes over yet again when you suggest just sharing his bed. At his hesitation, you add, “It doesn’t need to be weird. We’re adults, and besides, friends do it all the time.”

Friends. The word rings in his ears. Friends who used to be madly in love most definitely don’t share beds, he thinks. But he wants to prove, mostly to himself, that he can do this without feelings getting in the way. 

“Yeah, sure.”

He’s practically falling off the bed, worried that if he gets any closer he’ll do something stupid. He wishes you a good night and turns off the light. Minutes pass and he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep until he hears a soft sob escape your lips.

“Hey, what’s going on?” 

You feel him shift and reach for the light, but you stop him. “Don’t, please. I’m about to get something off my chest, and it feels safer this way.”

His chest tightens, anxiety hitting him like a truck at the unknown of where this conversation is headed. “Of course.”

“I’m not happy,” you choke. “With Steve. With our marriage. I thought we were the lucky ones, but he got so stressed about money and started working more and I guess he didn’t think I was a priority anymore. It feels like…like he doesn’t love me anymore.”

The words spill out of you like a dam splitting open. It’s the first time you’ve acknowledged the deep fear that Steve doesn’t love you anymore, leaving out how you’re not sure you feel that way about him anymore either. Drinking too much has always made you a little emotional, and after the way you’ve been thinking about Bucky recently, the shame makes you feel like a wreck.

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispers. “I’m sure he still loves you. Every couple hits a rough patch, but you guys will get it through this.”

“But he wanted a break. That feels big. And it’s like talking to me has turned into a chore. I don’t think he wants this to work out, but he’s too scared to admit it. I don’t know what to do anymore, and I’m exhausted.”

A beat passes, and guilt creeps in that you’ve ruined such a perfect day. “Scratch all of that,” you laugh awkwardly. “I’m sorry for ruining the mood. I’m just drunk and tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he assures you. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

You nod and turn towards him, finding that he’s already facing you. “Goodnight, Buck.”

His hand twitches at his side, wanting nothing more than to reach out and hold you against his chest. “Goodnight.”

Everything is a warm, fuzzy daze when you wake up. Two arms are wrapped around your stomach, holding you against a hard chest. Without thinking, you snuggle into the person, assuming it’s Steve.

“Good morning,” a sleepy voice murmurs from behind you. A voice that does not belong to Steve.

Your eyes shoot open as you pry yourself away from Bucky. The movement jolts him awake and he retreats to the far side of the bed, centimeters away from falling off.

“I-I’m sorry,” he stammers.

“Don’t be. It was an accident.”

“Fuck, I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?” He’s spiraling fast.

“Buck, I’m fine. I was…the opposite of uncomfortable. Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

He nods. It’s more than you should’ve shared, but you need him to know he didn’t cross any lines. You’ve cuddled with friends before, and this was no different. That’s what you tell yourself, anyway. 

“I’ll go make us some coffee.”

Bucky needs any reason to leave the room and give himself a second to breathe. It doesn’t matter how many times he reassures himself it’s not a big deal. Because it is, to him at least. He hasn’t held someone like that in years, and he never enjoyed it as much as he did with you. Memories from college fill his mind - getting drunk and passing out on the couch, waking up tangled in each other. Lazy Sunday mornings spent cuddled together. When he realized he loved you the first night he held you like that. Hearing you admit you liked it, or at least he’s assuming that’s what the opposite of uncomfortable means, has him wondering if you’re reliving these memories, too.

You come join him at his kitchen counter. He’s relieved you’ve changed back into your own clothes; he can’t handle seeing you in his right now. Not when he’s teetering on the edge of falling for you. And he’s dangerously close to that edge. 

Last night comes back to you in bits and pieces. Wiping the foam away from Bucky’s mouth. Changing into his clothes, overwhelmed by the scent of him. Him taking care of you, not wanting you to go home alone.  

Confessing that you’re unhappy with Steve. 

It makes your stomach turn, the alcohol threatening to come back up. You had thought in your drunken state that it would make you feel better to get it off your chest, but now you feel worse. Guilty. Embarrassed. How could you dump that on him? How could you talk to him about it before you talked to Steve, your husband?

“You’re unusually quiet,” Bucky comments, sliding you a much needed cup of coffee.

“I’m sorry. I’m just thinking about last night, and I feel awful. I never should’ve unloaded all of my problems on you like that.”

“Please don’t apologize. You were drunk, and I like knowing you feel safe enough around me to talk about things like that.” He pauses, wondering if he should continue. He was up most of the night thinking about what you said, how hurt you sounded, how he could punch Steve right in the face for making you feel this way. Steve doesn’t know how good he has it. 

You deserve so much better, and Bucky wanted to tell you that last night before you ended the conversation. He wants to say you should leave Steve. Not even for Bucky, not for anyone but yourself. It’s clear this has been dragging you down. But is it his place to say that? As a friend, yes. But as an ex-turned-recent-friend? That complicates things. But if you can take a risk, so can he.

“I actually wanted to say something last night. To me, it sounds like you should leave him. He’s hurting you, and you don’t deserve to be treated like this. Forgive me if I’m crossing a line, but this is clearly weighing on you and I think it might be for the best. You said it yourself, you’re not happy.”

“Excuse me?” You spit out, anger coursing through you like a raw, ugly thing. “I’m sorry, but I don’t remember asking you what I think I should do with my relationship. You think I should leave him, and what? Be with you? Because that’s not what’s happening here. I shut down the conversation for a reason last night. If I wanted to know your opinion, I would’ve asked.”

Bucky flinches like he's been hit. He has, in a way - your words feel like bullets. That’s not what’s happening here. He knows that. He’s about to say as much before you continue on.

“Steve is a great guy. He’s sweet, and caring, and he takes care of me. He loves me.” You emphasize the word like you’re trying to convince yourself you still believe that. “I’m not going to give up on him because of a silly little break, okay? This will all be over soon, he just needed some space. It’s perfectly normal.”

You hear how defensive you sound. Like you have something to prove. Something you find yourself believing less and less in. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky sighs. “Of course I know that’s not what’s happening with us. I didn’t mean to overstep. And you’re right, you didn’t ask for my input so I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.” You stand and start collecting your things left scattered across his living room. “I should go.”

“Wait, please stay. I don’t want to leave things like this,” he pleads. “Let’s just talk it out, okay?”

“I need to be alone while I figure some things out. I’ll see you around, Buck.”

His heart shatters like glass falling onto a hardwood floor. “Okay. Yeah, whatever you need. I’ll uh, see you around.”

See you around. It’s enough to leave him hopeful as he watches you walk out the door. You don’t let yourself think about how he put up more of a fight to work things out than Steve did. How he gave you the choice to walk away, unlike how Steve chose to leave without giving you a chance to talk about it first. 

But they say drunk words are sober thoughts, right? And clearly what Bucky said struck a nerve, so maybe you should let yourself think about what all of that means. Your head is a jumbled mess, and it’s not just because you’re hungover. You’ve let these emotions fill up for too long, and now they’re ready to spill out. For the first time since Steve left, you’re grateful to be going home to an empty apartment so you have the space to think.

You unlock the door to your apartment, wanting nothing more than to take a nice long, hot shower, but you jump when a figure appears from the kitchen. You scream and reach for anything that resembles a weapon before you recognize who it is.

Steve.

“Surprise!” He says, smiling wide like he didn’t just nearly give you a heart attack. 

“W-what are you doing here?”

His smile falls. “I’m home,” he pauses when you don’t react, then clairifies, “for good.”

“A little heads up would’ve been nice,” you joke, but it doesn’t land. 

“I wanted it to be a surprise…are you not happy?”

“Of course I am! I just had a rough morning and you scared me, that’s all.” You plaster on your most convincing fake smile. Steve notices but chooses not to comment on it. The last thing he wants is to start a fight when he just got back.

“I’m glad to be home,” he says before pulling you in for a kiss. There should be sparks, fireworks, butterflies, something. But you feel nothing. All of the passion from before followed Steve out the door. 

“I’m glad you’re home, too.”

No one says I missed you. No one says I love you. No one mentions the lack of enthusiastic reunion. It’s definitely not the rom-com moment you’ve been building up in your head. 

Saying anything will only cause a fight; pointing fingers and blaming each other would just send Steve away again. You’ve been pretending that everything is okay since he left, so how hard can it be to do it now that he's back? You just need time to readjust, at least that's what you tell yourself. 

But then Bucky’s words replay in your head: This is clearly weighing on you. You said it yourself, you’re not happy. You don’t deserve to be treated like this. You excuse yourself to the shower, denying Steve’s request to join you. Panic rises through you, manifesting in shaking hands and labored breath. You turn the water on, sit on the shower floor, and let out a sob. 

You’ve been trying to downplay the situation, lying to yourself that Steve will come to his senses and ignore that sinking feeling in your chest that you know things will never be the same.

All of the lying to yourself and pretending that everything would be okay once Steve comes home, that things would go back to the way they were, has finally caught up to you. Not to mention the guilt from the growing, unstoppable feelings towards Bucky and not being over the moon at seeing Steve again. Now that you’re finally letting yourself truly think things through, you know you’re like a mouse caught in a trap, not sure how or if you’ll get out. 

It’s Steve, your husband, how could you be with anyone else? But if you still truly love Steve, how can you justify how you feel about Bucky? It’s like you’re being sucked into his magnetic force field yet again. Bucky still has that same hold on you and it scares the shit out of you. Now that he’s back in your life, you can’t let him go again, but you can’t - you don’t want to- just be friends. Things with Bucky have never just been friendly, like it’s been written in the stars that you two were meant to be. That now is your second chance with him. 

Another voice screams that maybe it isn’t meant to be though. Because it’s the same situation; right person, wrong time. Could you really divorce Steve to be with someone you’ve only recently connected with, despite the years of history? The choice is overwhelming, drowning you in what-if’s and buts and maybes. And then it dawns on you that if Bucky never would’ve gotten injured and dropped out of school to move back home, you would’ve married him.

But he did, and you met Steve and got swept up into a different kind of whirlwind romance. Maybe that’s still there, buried under a pile of rubble that you have to work to find. And if you can’t, even if the thought makes you sick to your stomach, you know what you’ll have to do.

You step out of the bathroom to find Steve on the couch reading. He looks up at the sound of the door opening and smiles, setting the book down.

“We should go out. On a date,” you say.

“Right now?” He questions.

“Yeah…unless you’re not feeling up to it,” you respond, feeling insecure for even suggesting it.

“What’d you have in mind?” 

“The MOMA? I know we’ve been before, but I thought it’d be good to do something we love together.”

Steve shrugs like he couldn’t care less. “Okay, sure. Let me freshen up.”

You try to sit on the couch while he’s in the restroom, but you’re too pent up with nervous energy to sit still, so instead you pace the living room. When your phone pings, you rush to check it in hopes that it’s Bucky, but it’s only an email. Your heart sinks until you have to remind yourself not to care. He probably won’t want to see you anymore after you picked a fight, but maybe that’s for the best. It’ll make your decision easier. 

“Ready?” Steve says.

“Yeah. You look handsome,” you compliment, reaching to hold his hand. Before the break, you would still get butterflies from any physical touch from him. But now, nothing.

“Thanks.” He says nothing else. No compliment back, no attempt to continue a conversation, nothing.

“So, how’s the new job been? I want all the details.”

“It’s been great, I get to teach a more advanced class and it came with a nice raise. I got lucky with a great class, too. It’s been such a relief.”

“I’m so proud of you,” you smile before reaching over to kiss his cheek. He clears his throat, eyes glancing up to the taxi driver, clearly uncomfortable with the PDA. Or maybe he just didn’t want you to kiss him. You retreat back to your seat in embarrassment. “I hated seeing you so stressed,” you add.

“Yeah, I hated it too. But no more of that.” He smiles at you, and it’s the first one that feels genuine. “What have you been up to?”

You hesitate, not sure how much detail you want to give. Steve normally wouldn’t care if you saw Bucky, but things have been so rocky that he might read too much into it. So you settle with telling him that you caught up with an old friend, and focus mostly on talking about work related things.

The taxi stops outside the museum and you reach for Steve’s hand again as you head inside. Again, everything feels off, like you’re holding hands with a stranger and not the love of your life. What once would be a comfortable silence as you walk around feels awkward. No one knows what to say despite not talking for weeks. 

“Have you been drawing at all?” You ask to fill the silence. 

“A little bit. Haven’t really had any inspiration lately.”

I used to be that inspiration, you think. Steve used to love drawing random sketches of you, but that stopped when your relationship began to strain. You wonder what he’s been drawing now.

“Well, maybe you could use me again.” 

“Yeah, maybe.”

You take that as a no since he’s too polite to outright say it. As you pass The Starry Night, you laugh as a memory hits you. “Remember when we got drunk and tried to paint this? We thought it looked so good until we woke up the next morning.”

Steve chuckles. Not his usual, genuine laugh, but something that sounds forced. “Yeah, it looked like a kid just smeared paint everywhere. Kind of embarrassing to think about it now.”

Well, that’s not how you remember it. You know art is his career and he takes it seriously, but you always remembered him having fun with it and being able to laugh when something turned out poorly. But clearly things have changed.

“I never get tired of seeing this art; it doesn’t get less beautiful.” Maybe mentioning something he’s passionate about will get him talking, though it shouldn’t be this difficult. You shouldn’t have to pry a conversation out of him.

Instead you’re met with a yawn. “Sorry,” he apologizes. “I’m feeling pretty tired.”

It’s barely been an hour and you’re already feeling exhausted too, but not for the same reason. You’re exhausted by putting in an effort and getting nothing back. Exhausted by feeling like Steve is a million miles away when he’s right next to you. Exhausted by knowing the break did absolutely nothing to repair your relationship.

“Let’s just head back home.”

He doesn’t argue. The ride home is silent minus the faint sound of the radio playing. Once you’re back in the apartment, Steve rushes through his nighttime routine before climbing into bed. When you join him, he’s facing away from you, when normally he’d be welcoming you with open arms. 

“Goodnight Steve.”

“Goodnight,” he replies without turning around. No I love yous, no goodnight kiss, nothing. 

It’s really over, you think as you try to sleep. The thought keeps you up all night.

You’re out the door before Steve is awake. You don’t bother to leave a note; he won’t really care, anyways. He’ll probably think you went for coffee or on a walk. Technically you are going on a walk, just to a specific destination.

When you arrive you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. Your nerves rise with each second that passes until Bucky opens the door. His expression is a mix of confusion and excitement at seeing you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to apologize for the other night. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” he says, stepping aside so you can enter. “Sorry for the mess, I would’ve tidied up if I had known you were coming.”

“I shouldn’t have just showed up unannounced, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for how I reacted the other night. You just wanted to help, and instead of being grateful I was an asshole. I hope you can forgive me, but I get it if you don’t want to see me again.”

His face falls. “I was the asshole for giving my two cents when you didn’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry I upset you, and I’m sorry for making you feel like you need to apologize. And of course I want to see you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you pause, absentmindedly fiddling with your ring. “I uh, do want to tell you that Steve came back.”

Bucky’s jaw tenses up and his face hardens. When he catches you staring, he breaks into a fake smile. “Oh, wow. That’s great!” His voice comes out too high. Too fake.

“I’m sorry,” you say for the third time today, though you aren’t really sure what you’re apologizing for this time.

“For what?” Bucky asks. “Nothing to be sorry for.”

Not true, you think. I shouldn’t have let him come back. I shouldn’t have complicated things by coming here instead of facing him. I should apologize for being selfish and wanting you to keep me company, because being with you is the first time I’ve felt truly happy in months. 

“Right, yeah.”

A minute passes. Then another. Finally, you say, “I should get going. I’m sure you’re busy today.”

“Eh, I’ve just got a game today, nothing crazy. You should come.” 

“Really? I’d love that.”

You’ve been wanting to go to one since he mentioned becoming a coach. It’ll be interesting to see him on the other side of things, though you’re worried seeing him with kids is going to take your already complicated feelings and jumble them even more.

He excuses himself to change, returning moments later wearing a blue and white striped jersey with BARNES 17 on the back and a matching hat. 

“Cute jersey.”

“You think so?” He grins and does a little spin, knowing it’ll make you giggle. 

“Please don’t let that get to your head,” you groan.

“Too late.” 

You spot a familiar face as you and Bucky walk up to the field. “Hey! Sam, right?”

“Hey! Nice to see you again,” he grins.

Bucky’s eyebrow raises in confusion as he glances back and forth between you and Sam. “When did you two meet?”

“At the bookstore. He informed me that you always talk about me,” you say with a smirk.

“Really? How nice,” Bucky deadpans. 

“Well, I see you two have kissed and made up. I got tired of seeing Buck mope around,” Sam says. Bucky’s face reddens into a blush as he shoots daggers at his friend. 

“I, uh, we didn’t…” you start before Bucky cuts you off. 

“Sam, don’t you have some warmups to go do?”

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone. Enjoy the game!”

Bucky can’t look you in the eyes, but you’re grateful for it. You don’t want him to see how flustered Sam’s comment made you. 

“I’m sorry about him,” he finally says. 

“Don’t be. I know he’s just messing with you,” you shrug.

“Yeah, he does that a lot.” He checks his watch. “I gotta head in there. Don’t have too much fun without me,” he adds with a wink before joining Sam and the team. 

“I’ll try,” you call after him.

You find a spot on the bleachers and cheer along with the crowd as Bucky’s team steps up to the plate. He switches into coach mode instantly, helping the kids improve but still being kind and playful. Each time he high-fives a player, cheers for them after a good play or encourages them after a bad one, you feel your heart growing three sizes like the Grinch. It makes your feelings messier, just as you predicted, like a pair of headphones that won’t come untangled no matter how hard you try. 

Bucky’s team wins and you jump up and let out a loud whoop to get his attention. He smiles and gestures for you to come join him. You rush over and he picks you up, spinning you around in celebration while you laugh breathlessly. His hands don’t leave your waist even after he’s set you back down leaving goosebumps in their wake. You both beam at each other, feeling like you’re the only two people alive.

I really want to kiss him, you think. 

“Coach Barnes, is that your girlfriend?” A small voice asks, unknowingly crushing the mood. You shouldn’t feel disappointed when Bucky drops his hands and takes a step back, but you do. 

I wish, Bucky thinks. 

“No Ben, she’s just a friend.”

Friend. The word feels and sounds wrong coming out of his mouth. But what other word should he use to describe…whatever this is? Actually, she’s my ex-girlfriend who I still have feelings for. I don’t think I ever stopped, and seeing her again has only reignited the fuse. We’re friends, sure, but we’re both ignoring the deeper connection because she’s married.

“Oh. Well, she’s very pretty, don’t you think Coach? She should be your girlfriend.”

God bless kids and their bluntness. 

“Uh, yes. I do think she’s pretty.” 

There’s that word again. Pretty. Hearing him say it again sends a chill down your spine in the best way. 

“That’s very sweet, thank you,” you say to both Ben and Bucky. Ben just nods and skips away over to the rest of the team.

“Kids, huh?” Bucky laughs. 

“Yeah, he’s sweet.”

Bucky suspects that Sam was behind that conversation; he’ll have to corner him about it later. 

“I should head home,” you say. You don’t want your time with Bucky to be over yet, but it might be for the best to cut it short after all the tension filled moments. You’re not sure you can handle much more right now.

“Can I walk you home?”

“I appreciate the offer Buck, but you don’t have to. My place isn’t on your way home, anyway.”

“I don’t mind. And I’d feel better knowing you weren’t going back alone.”

Always a gentleman. 

“Alright, but don’t complain if your feet start hurting.”

He feigns a limp just to make you laugh. At that moment, he realizes it’s his favorite sound. 

“I hope today wasn’t too boring.”

“Boring? Why do you say that?” You question.

“It’s kids playing baseball,” he replies, like the answer is a given. “Not exactly the most exciting thing in the world.”

“But I got a front row seat to the best coach those kids have ever had!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t have a lot of competition. It’s either their first time playing or they’ve only had like, one or two before me.” His usual playfulness is gone, now replaced with insecurity that seemingly came from nowhere.

“Hey,” you pause, reaching for his arm to stop him. “I really did have fun, and it’s clear those kids look up to you. You were great out there today, and I know your team would agree with me.”

He visibly relaxes at your words and the blush from before makes another appearance. “That means a lot, thank you.”

“What happened to that ego, huh?” You say, giving him a playful nudge. Bucky chuckles at that. 

“That was actually me fishing for compliments to fuel my ego. You fell right into my trap.”

You roll your eyes. Bucky’s thankful to have you here to pick him up when he gets into one of those moments where he feels insecure. He wants to make sure every second spent with you is special, he wants to make sure you enjoy his company. He has a lot of lost time to make up for. 

The rest of the walk is silent, but it’s not like how your date with Steve was. You don’t feel the need to scramble for something to say. It’s comfortable.

You stop outside of your apartment and linger for a second before saying, “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Anytime.”

Without thinking, Bucky leans forward. Your entire body tenses like a deer caught in headlights. His lips brush your cheek, a blink and you’ll miss it moment, and you’re grateful you don’t. Panic settles in once he pulls back and realizes what he’s done, and he rushes off before you can say anything. You reach your hand up to touch where his lips were to try and seal in the feeling. 

The only things Bucky can think on his way home are shit, what have I done? And I’m so, undeniably gone for her.

“And where have you been?”

You freeze like you’re a teenager getting caught sneaking back home by your parents. 

“Just on a walk.”

“For almost three hours?” 

“It’s a nice day out,” you shrug. But Steve doesn’t drop it.

“I tried calling and texting you. Why didn’t you tell me where you were?”

You pull your phone out and wince at the several unseen notifications. “I lost track of time. It’s not a big deal.”

Steve sighs, rubbing at the tension forming at his temple. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m not following,” you say truthfully. Yes, you were really with Bucky, but nothing happened. Not officially anyway. But bringing up how you’ve been feeling about him doesn’t seem worth it, not when you’re still uncertain about what you want. 

“Who were you with this morning?”

“A friend.”

He takes a deep breath in, trying to steady himself. He’s never raised his voice with you before, and even though he’s growing frustrated by your vague answers, he’s not going to start now. 

“Which friend?”

“Steve, why does it matter? I’m sorry I didn’t look at my phone or tell you where I was. It’s not the end of the world.” 

“Just answer the question! Do you not understand how suspicious you’re being right now?” He huffs. 

“I was with Bucky, okay? And honestly, I didn’t think you’d even care that I was gone.” 

The confession was meant to get some weight off your chest, but the way Steve’s looking at you adds about ten extra pounds. You can sense the fight coming and you aren’t prepared. This isn’t how things are supposed to be.

“Bucky,” he repeats, like the word tastes disgusting in his mouth. “As in your ex boyfriend, Bucky?”

You can’t bring yourself to speak, so you just nod. A beat passes and the silence makes your skin crawl. It’s the feeling right before a storm comes, when the sky is bright blue but you can see the dark clouds following right behind. This has been building since he left; the fight you didn’t have that night had to happen at some point. You were hoping to avoid it entirely, but maybe this is a good thing. Maybe this is what needs to happen for you both to move on and go back to how things were.

“And when did you two reconnect?”

“While you were gone.”

“Real convenient.” He laughs humorlessly. 

“Nothing happened between us,” you say defensively. “We’re just friends.”

“I don’t buy that, or else you wouldn’t have been so elusive about it.” He pauses in thought. “When I called you that one day and you didn’t answer, you said you were at the movies with Nat. But you were with him, weren’t you?” 

“Yes.”

“Do you love him?” Steve bites out. 

“Steve,” you plead. “Don’t. Can’t you just believe me?”

“Answer the question.”

“I…I don’t know,” you answer, voice sounding small. 

“Then what are we doing here?” He questions. You stare at him, silently asking him to go on. “I mean, you can’t say with one hundred percent certainty that you don’t love your ex and I’m supposed to, what, be okay with that?”

Him trying to turn this around and make it your fault sets a burst of anger off inside you.

“Just like I was supposed to be okay with you deciding for the both of us that we’re taking a break? You didn’t even try, Steve. I was the only one making any sort of effort even before you left. How is that fair for me?” 

“I can’t believe you’re trying to compare cheating to me working myself to the bone for us,” he scoffs. “I was exhausted, so excuse me if I wasn’t up for a few date nights.”

“I didn’t cheat!” You shout. You never yell like this, but everything you’ve been holding in is spilling out faster than you can keep up. “And it wasn’t a few nights, it was all of them. Did you even miss me while you were gone? Because it sure didn’t feel like it.”

“Emotional cheating is still cheating,” he argues. “And I did…at first.” It feels like he dropped a bomb. You would’ve preferred that to this conversation. 

“And I’m supposed to be okay with that?” You parrot his question from earlier. “Why did you even come back then?”

“I thought it would rekindle the spark. I really did think the time away would work, but when I realized it wasn’t, I pushed you away,” he confesses. 

“You pushed me away.” It’s not a question. You need to repeat the words for them to fully sink in. You have to process what he just admitted to. In a way, you feel relieved for finally having an answer to everything. But you also feel empty. Numb. “And then you strung me along?”

Steve nods. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

No one speaks for what feels like an eternity. Because what comes next is the scariest part, and neither of you are ready to get there yet. But you know you need to just rip the band-aid off, tired from the fighting and tip-toeing what needs to be said.

“Does this mean it’s over? That we’re done?”

“Yeah,” he answers, sounding defeated. “I guess so.”

And just like that, your marriage is over, crumbling in front of your eyes. You can’t forgive him for letting you believe the break could work after he knew it wouldn’t. He can’t forgive you for seeing Bucky behind his back, even if nothing physical happened, because there’s a possibility you fell in love with someone else. There’s no going back.

“So what do we do?”

He scratches the back of his neck like a nervous tick. “I…guess we find a divorce lawyer?”

Divorce. The word hangs heavy in the air. 

“Right, yeah. Okay.” You can’t form complete sentences. It’s like you’re standing outside of yourself watching this all unfold.

“We don’t have to rush it,” Steve assures. “We can take our time.”

“What’s the point? It’s decided. Might as well get it over with.”

Taking our time would just delay the inevitable and drive you crazy over the possibility that maybe he’ll change his mind, or you’ll realize you don’t have feelings for Bucky and it was just an effect of seeing an old love again. But you know that’s not the case, and once Steve makes up his mind there’s no changing it.

“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s at least sleep on it, okay? I’ll uh, I’ll take the couch tonight.”

You don’t even want to be in the same room as him, let alone the same apartment. “Okay. I’m just gonna spend the rest of the day in our – uh, the bedroom.” 

Steve just nods and watches you retreat to the other room. Later that night when you think he’s fallen asleep, you finally allow yourself to cry. 

Weeks pass by in a blur of lawyer meetings, packing your things, and breaking the news to family and friends. Bucky calls and texts, but you don’t answer. You can’t tell him, not yet. He’ll ask what happened, and how can you tell him that you couldn’t answer Steve’s question about loving Bucky? What will that mean for the two of you?

After two weeks of silence from you, Bucky knows he fucked up. Why did he kiss your cheek? It seemed like a friendly enough gesture at the time, but there’s too much history for it to just be that. He knew it when he did it, but he couldn’t stop himself. And now he’s ruined things. Again.

Nat shows up a few days after the divorce was finalized to find you yet again wallowing in pity. She was the first one you called and spilled everything too, including all the details about Bucky. 

“Okay, I’m going to suggest something maybe a little controversial,” she says before joining you on the couch.

“Go on.”

“I think you need to talk things out with Bucky, including what Steve said. You deserve to be happy, and I think that means being with him. Or at least having him as a friend.”

“You don’t think it’s too soon?” You ask. “Everything with Steve is still fresh, and I’m not even sure how I feel about Bucky.”

Nat laughs. “Oh honey, I think you do. But you’re scared, and that’s understandable. I don’t think it’s too soon, because to be blunt, it feels like you and Steve broke up a while ago.”

She’s right. Even before he suggested a break, it felt like things were over. If Steve could decide to take a break for himself, maybe it’s time you do something for yourself.

“I think you’re right. I need to see him.” You go to stand up but Nat stops you.

“Maybe shower first?” 

You roll your eyes but laugh for the first time in weeks. It makes you feel a little bit lighter, like things will eventually be okay.

When Bucky hears a knock on the door, you’re the last person he’s expecting on the other side.

“H-hi,” he stammers, mentally kicking himself for not saying something cooler.

“Hi.”

A minute passes. Then another. You’re starting to second guess your decision until he comes to his senses. “Sorry, come in.”

You follow behind him and he gestures for you to take a seat on the couch. “Want something to drink?” He asks.

“Just water, thanks.”  

He returns with two glasses of water and takes a seat in the armchair next to you. “Is everything okay? I got worried after I stopped hearing from you.”

“Steve and I got divorced,” you blurt out, almost like the words were punched out of you. 

Bucky’s eyes go wide. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” He pauses and shakes his head. “Sorry, stupid question. Of course you aren’t okay.”

“I’m working my way up to being there, but I’m doing better than I expected,” you shrug. “I don’t think it’s fully hit me; it’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.”

“You aren’t mad at me?” 

His brows furrow. “Why would I be?”

“Because I ghosted you.”

“Of course I’m not mad at you for that. I figured you had a reason, and to be honest I thought I was the reason. If anything, I’m mad at myself.”

“Buck, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I thought…I thought when I kissed your cheek after the game that I crossed a line and scared you off,” he says guiltily. 

“Honestly Bucky, I think we both crossed that line well before that.”

He blinks. Opens his mouth, then closes it, trying to digest what you’re saying. 

“But I thought you said –”

“I know,” you interrupt. “I lashed out because I was scared. Scared of how I felt, scared of what that meant for my marriage, scared to try again with you. And I’m still terrified as hell, but I know what I want.” Deep breath in. Deep breath out. “And I want you.”

His face lights up just like it did at the coffee shop, but you slowly watch it falter. Your heart sinks down to your feet. 

“I don’t – I can’t be a rebound. I can’t worry that one day you’ll start to resent me because I played a part in your divorce.”

“Buck, you’re not a rebound. And my marriage fell apart for a lot of reasons, and none of that is your fault. Steve asked me if I love you, and at first I didn’t know. But I do now, and I know that I love you.”

That brings the sparkle back to his eyes. He laughs like he can’t believe this is really happening. “You love me,” he repeats. 

“Don’t make me say it again, you tease.”

“Good, because I love you too. Honestly, I don’t think I ever stopped.”

“I don’t either.”

“Can I kiss you? Please?”

“Yes,” you breathe.  

He’s on you in an instant. Your permission was like a dam bursting open and he’s the water rushing out, not being able to hold back anymore. Kissing him is even better than before, and he remembers exactly what you like. It feels like a million firecrackers are shooting off inside you, and his hands leave tiny sparks everywhere they touch. He’s been dreaming about this moment for years and the craving grew unbearable the second you called his name at the cafe.

You finally pull back and rest your forehead against his, needing a second to catch your breath. 

“Holy shit,” Bucky laughs.

“I know.”

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips before kissing you again. Just a peck this time, but it elicits the same response.

“I love you too, Bucky.”

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Lucky - A Pedrotober Drabble

Day 8 of Pedrotober: Corona Pedrotober hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag. View the full prompt list HERE and view my entire Pedrotober drabble catalog HERE.

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

Rating: THIS IS FOR EVERYONE WHO BELIEVES IN LOVE. The briefest of mentions of unwanted advances in a bar setting.

Word Count: 2268

a/n: This is for @alyssamariag and she knows it. I legitimately blacked out writing this one and somehow it's now here.

"You'll find someone eventually, sweetie," your mom reminds you for what feels like the millionth time. "You just have to put yourself out there."

It's exhausting, really, these weekly phone calls where you're reminded time and time again that your brother is getting married. Five years younger and he was beating you to the alter the same way every one of your friends has. But he was lucky. He met his future wife in college when they sat next to one another in class. An organic meet cute that spawned into a flourishing relationship.

Meanwhile, your college boyfriend cheated on you the first chance he got.

"I have to go, Mom," you cut her off as Frankie walks through the front door. He gives you a knowing look when he realizes you're on the phone, moving through your house like he lives there. And these days, he basically does.

As the only single members of your friend group, you spend your time together while the others spend theirs with their partners. It was, at times, perhaps a little concerning how co-dependent the two of you were becoming, but seeing Frankie each evening was much better than the alternative of being alone.

And it wasn't like the two of you hadn't tried to find partners. You'd just never been in the right place at the right time. Frankie was fresh out of a long-term relationship when you met him, and starting a flight school had kept him far too busy for far too long. For you, moving across the country hadn't helped much. You'd had to start fresh. New city, new job, new home, new friends, all built from the ground up. Where the move had done little for your love life, it had brought you a sense of accomplishment, a wealth of new experiences, and, most importantly, your boys.

Which, you suppose, was a bit of good fortune. The way you just happened to walk into the same bar on the same night that they were already seated around a table celebrating Benny's latest win. The way your coworker ditched you early on, leaving you alone at the bar nursing a once-cold bottle of Corona. The way all four of them had jumped to your defense when a man tried to slip his arm around your waist.

But even they had found people to share their lives with while you and Frankie sat on the sidelines, doing your due diligence by downloading dating apps. You even dragged him along to a speed dating event that Santi had signed you up for, but the world wasn't what it once was. You couldn't just attend a cooking class and expect to meet your soulmate while roasting a turkey. And if you did manage to secure your significant other one side dish at a time, it was still because of luck.

"Your Mom again?" Frankie asks when you step into your kitchen, already feeling the urge to rant boiling in your veins.

You nod. "She's on me again. Reminding me that my biological clock is ticking and that I have to get serious about this before she's too old to play with her grandchildren."

Frankie scoffs, "You don't want kids though."

"That's what I keep telling her, but I don't know that it'll ever stick in your brain," you bite out as you help him unbag the Chinese food he's brought you for dinner. "But," you continue, conceding a bit, "she is also kind of right."

He pauses, staring at you with wide eyes until the heat permeating through the thin cardboard of the box of rice he's holding threatens to burn his fingers. He sets it on the counter with a wince and turns to you. "Don't tell me you're letting her get in your head."

You shrug, avoiding his gaze as you grab plates. "I don't know." You exhale heavily as you set the dishes down next to him, turning to lean back against the counter. "I just wish I could skip this whole dating thing and get to the happy ending part. It's just unfair, you know? How we're supposed to put ourselves out there on these apps when all anyone is looking for there is a good fuck. And if you don't rely on the apps, you're not trying hard enough. And if none of that worked, it's entirely up to fate to put you in the right place at the right time."

There's a beat of silence before he responds, his voice dripping with understanding. "I know what you mean." Of course, he does. Of anyone, he's the only one that does.

"It's like playing the lottery and losing every time," you sigh again, scooping rice onto one of the dishes. "Maybe I should just have Benny set me up on that blind date he keeps talking about or something."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

You hand him his own plate of food. "It's better than not trying, isn't it?"

Frankie says nothing.

If you were serious about the blind date, I have someone I could set you up with. Better than Benny's guy.

His text feels like it comes out of nowhere. You're on your way home from work when you see it pop up on your car's notification system, and you swear you feel your stomach drop a little at the suggestion. You'd mostly been kidding when you said it, overwhelmed by the lecture you'd just been given by your mother, and there's something about Frankie making the offer that doesn't sit right with you. Sitll, you're curious.

Who is it? You text back once you've put the car in park, grabbing your phone as you head inside.

He replies instantly, doesn't that defeat the point of a blind date??

You roll your eyes and call him instead and he picks up on the second ring. "It does not defeat the purpose," you explain, "I just want to know what I'm getting into before I say yes."

Your best friend chuckles on the other end of the line. "It's just someone I work with. Nice guy, recently out of a relationship, tall," Frankie explains, well aware of your type.

"Is he a scruffy-looking nerfherder, too?" you ask, quoting The Empire Strikes Back. You'd once told him that that was your type. Harrison Ford saving Carrie Fisher from an icy planet.

"Maybe."

You ponder your options for a moment. You'd never actually texted Benny about the idea, but having it come out of left field on Frankie's part feels a little like a sign. Maybe this is the stroke of luck you need. A random introduction that would lead to a fairytale romance.

"I'll do it," you tell him, "on one condition. I get to set you up with someone, too."

Frankie's quiet, and you wish you could see his face right now because you can picture the panic you know is written on it. But you aren't about to find your true love and leave him in the dust. "Who is it?" he asks, imitating your earlier questioning.

"A friend from work," you reply sarcastically, even if it isn't a lie. "You'll like her. She's smart, a little quiet, and brunette."

"I really think you'll like her," you explain to Frankie as the two of you walk through the grocery store, a weekly trip you take together. "She works in finance, she actually knows something about how to fix a car, and she loves to travel." He nods along, pushing the cart as you grab things from both of your lists. "But what about my prince charming?" you inquire, setting a box of Cap'n Crunch in the basket. For all you've told him about his date, he's told you very little.

"He...." Frankie pauses for a second, "...he's..."

You tilt your head. "You're really selling him here, Morales."

He shrugs, "What am I supposed to say? He's the most attractive man I've ever met? You'll definitely be satisfied by him? I'm sure he has a big..."

A mother passing by with her daughter in the cart coughs before he can finish the sentence and you struggle to hold in a laugh as he apologizes. The two of you move further down the aisle, "Okay, maybe not that, but what's he like as a person? What does he do for fun?"

Frankie sucks in a breath. "He likes a lot of the same things I do, I guess. He's...nurturing?"

Your eyebrows raise as you lead him down another aisle. "Nurturing?"

"Yeah," he grunts softly. "Nurturing. Like, he's loyal. Cares about the people in his life. The kind of person that will take care of you when you're sick or watch that dumb Tom Hanks movie you love so much."

"You've Got Mail," you supply, causing him to roll his eyes before continuing, but it's obvious that he chooses his next words carefully.

"He's the kind of person who will be there for you even when it's two in the morning and you're up because it's storming. I guess he can be a little stubborn, but it's usually just because he cares too much." He pauses, and you open your mouth to respond, but then he keeps going and you can do nothing but listen, transfixed. "Loves movies and has his pilot's license like me. Quiet sometimes, but he can be a little mischievous, too. It's all in good fun, though. It just means he loves you."

You've stopped next to the pasta and are staring at him, eyes wide. "Is that all?"

He nods. "That good enough for you?"

"Yeah, that's good."

Your date comes faster than you anticipated. Frankie has you set up at a local bar to meet with his coworker, although per your agreement, you didn't even know his name. He'd be sitting, Frankie explained, at a table near the back and would be drinking a Corona. When you insisted that you needed more information, he asked if you'd prefer a rose in a book, but you'd simply hit his arm and grudgingly agreed to his plan.

His date, meanwhile, was set for the following evening. Your coworker hadn't stopped talking about it all week, excited about the prospect of meeting someone new. For someone who was usually quiet, she was obnoxiously loud when it came to Frankie, and you couldn't help but wince every time she brought him up. It wasn't that you were jealous, because you weren't. You and Frankie were never meant to be more than friends, and that was lucky enough.

So why didn't it feel that way?

As you check your makeup in the rearview mirror, you debate driving back home. It would be easy to leave. Easy to call Frankie on the way and tell him you didn't feel a spark and ask if he'd pick up a pizza and come over for a movie night. Cancel the whole thing and go back to your simple single life.

Your phone lights up on the passenger seat with a text from Frankie, as if he's heard your thoughts somehow. Have fun tonight.

Well, now you have to go inside. And maybe this wouldn't work out. Maybe Frankie was wrong and this guy wasn't for you, but you have to go for him. Because your best friend put in the time and effort to set you up with someone he genuinely thought you would like. And you trust his judgement wholeheartedly.

With one last breath, you step from your car, finding your confidence in your heels as you make your way toward the same bar you'd met the boys at all those years ago. It's crowded inside, more so than usual, and you have to apologize a few times as you weave your way through the mass of people. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest and your stomach feels like throwing up might be a preferable activity right now, but you press on until you can see someone sitting at a table near the back.

You try to make out his features through the dim light, but he's turned away from you. You know it's him though because the light above his table illuminates the Corona he's holding with one hand. When the song changes on the radio, Harry Nilsson's Somewhere Over the Rainbow playing through the speakers, you realize you've been standing there for too long.

That, actually, you don't want to go through with this.

What you want is to go home. You want to call Frankie. You want to curl up in his arms. You want...

"Frankie," you breathe out because he's there in front of you as he turns. Like you've summoned him.

He leaves the Corona on the table as he stands and takes a step toward you. He says nothing as he invades your space. You feel like crying, and maybe you are because he tells you not to, wiping the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"I wanted it to be you," you say softly, quoting Meg Ryan because, you realize, this is what it feels like to be lucky. "How did you..."

Frankie smiles. "You didn't think I'd actually let you end up with someone else, did you?"

"No," you tell him tearfully, "you're too stubborn for that." It's easy to melt into his embrace as he draws you closer. "And mischievous," you add, repeating what he told you at the grocery store, "but I guess that just means he loves me."

He nods, his lips a breath from yours. "He does."

[centrally-unplanned]

3 questions:

What is it you like... do, where does all the political expertise come from?

Do you have a platonic ideal of city development and what is it?

What's your take on communitarians? I never got the basic intuition about what makes it appealing, honestly smells totalitarian

- I lie about having political expertise on the internet mainly, that is where the expertise comes from!

But otherwise I am an ex-political analyst/quasi-academic - I took many classes and read many books on the subject. And also blogs, which certainly used to be an incredibly good source for more "foundational" knowledge - still good ofc, but we are past the heyday of the blogosphere. I personally think there is no substitute for "reading a bunch of diverse books in sequence on a topic", not only because you learn about the subject but because you start to see all the diverse approaches to any subject and how to synthesize it all, which can be applied elsewhere.

My actual job these days is in higher education, I build courses, degrees, etc. It definitely is something that keeps me exposed to good info sources but it is not load-bearing on how I grow as a writer. It's true perk is giving me access to good scanning equipment for anime archiving.

- I don't "actually" have one as I think all city development should be organic and contextual, no two places should look identical. In particular you can't really force economies, the industries be where they are. Overall I think the key things are to reduce localism while preserving democratic engagement, so you build up a strong regional government with elected officials holding critical power that can't be overridden by institutional stakeholders so they can pursue majority-benefitting policies. To be more granular, I think diversity of housing options is perpetually underappreciated - you want neighborhoods having studios to 4 bedroom units to even detached homes as you trickle out from the metro stops all next to each other so you can cultivate local economies that cater to diverse crowds and governance units that are "full stack" on the people they need to support. This happens pretty organically without zoning restrictions - US cities just try very hard to force housing types into specific zones.

I do also support every city of a sufficient size having a Kowloon Walled City-esque hyperdense housing complex at their center as a "stopgap" housing option for anyone of any stripe who wants to come to the city and try their hand at it. I am not even joking on that.

-Definitely too diverse a field to have "one" take! So to paint a very broad brush, they are a classic "cause" ideology that hits on correct social problems but doesn't give their solutions the same treatment. It is true that no one is an island, that social dependence is endemic to modernity, that "we are all connected" and individualist decision-making results in suboptimal outcomes. And not only for "others", but even for the individual, the isolating anomie of modernity that everyone falls into is a legitimate problem. In the abstract "more community" can do a lot of good.

But once you move away from abstraction the grubby realities of implementing something like the Responsive Communitarian Platform it tends to fall apart. Individuals are not the best deciders for themselves, but they are typically better than the rest of the options on the table as flawed, biased, or openly hostile governing authorities are the only real alternative. Community orgs are often populated by niche interest groups and oddball activists as typical people are too buys living life to care. Welfare is typically better done by distant, standardized, centralized cash payments instead of a "community" with its fickle resources and personal agendas. And so on. Obviously community has its place, but it is a place that typically already exists - we have had say schools and school boards for a long time! So as a movement it tends to collapse back to good ol' incremental social liberalism as those are the only practical things it can offer.

(But again YMMV based on individual thinkers, a diverse field)

[maxleyrosebud]

Max and Bradley Comparison - Part 2 : Max’s financial background

In Part 2 we're going to explore Max’s lower class background , his education and why Max wants to be Rich and famous :)  

Max coming from a Lower Class background 

Growing up , Max was raised by a single father who didn’t have a college degree and before moving to Spoonerville , Max and Goofy lived in a trailer in the middle of a city. Even had a Lake poster behind their trailer as a fake backdrop. 

So due to a lack of job requirements from Goofy’s education , Max and Goofy lived rather poorly compared to everyone else.  

But once Goofy gets a degree of W.W.D ( Widget Waffler Deluxe!) ,he is able to get a job in Spoonerville , allowing him to move into an actual house next to Pete’s. 

But despite their living accommodations being better , it’s still shown throughout the show that Goofy doesn't have a lot of money. It’s also shown that what Goofy does for employment is different from episode to episode and he presumably doesn't have a stable job. 

Because of this, it can be assumed that Goofy got fired from a lot of his jobs or he had to do multiple jobs to earn enough money to provide for him and Max. So all in all Goofy isn't really rich and struggles financially compared to other households. 

Due to their financial struggles , Max and Goofy can’t usually afford to go on vacation like other families.

‘Wrecks , Lies and Videotape’

“Same thing every summer. Your dad takes you guys someplace hot like Hawaii. My dad can’t afford to go anywhere. If I had the bucks , I'd buy him a real vacation.” - Max

“Every summer you take your family on a mondo expensive vacation. France one year. Egypt the next. While my pop can’t afford anything but bucket fishing for minnows in the backyard.” - Max

There have also been times in the series where Goofy and Max have nearly lost their house due to financial issues caused by Pete.

‘Goodbye , Mr Goof’ 

Goofy loses his envelope of money to pay the mortgage and because he won't be able to come up with enough money in time to pay , he states that he and Max will have to live in a trailer park - “Back to the trailer park , I reckon.”  Peg thinks this is terrible but Goofy tries to reassure her that in a year or two they will actually be able to buy a trailer - “Oh , it won't be so bad. Why, in a year or two we might have enough money to buy a trailer.” 

‘A pizza in action’ 

Goofy’s house will get toyed away because of his failed pizza business and they end up on the street penniless.  

“Maxie , I got something to tell you. If the Pizza whiz doesn't show a profit by tomorrow night, our house will be towed away.”-Goofy

“Towed away? But what about us?”-Max

“We’ll be thrown out on the street , penniless.”- Goofy

At one point in the series in the episode ‘Goof under your Roof’, Pete even owns half of Goofy’s property making Goofy have to divide the house between him and Pete. Max has to lose his bedroom because of this which leads some kids at the park to mockingly call Max “Half-House Maxie”. 

Materialistic things 

Then when it comes to Max getting materialistic things , Max is usually seen trying to find ways to raise the money himself to buy what he wants , whether it be for concert tickets or a video game.

Sometimes Max has even been shown trying to get pocket money from Pete by doing his chores.

‘All the Goof’s that fit to print’ 

Max is seen trying to earn pocket money from Pete where he is under the impression that both him and PJ will get minimum wage.  

“Sure appreciate you letting Max earn some pocket money over there”-Goofy

“My pleasure, Goof. A boy’s never too young to learn the honest value of an honest dollar. Besides , It's best they start with an enlightened employer like yours truly.Somebody to ease them into the harsh realities awaiting them in the working world. ”-Pete

Max moes the lawn with PJ , carries and unload’s Pete’s heavy boxes full of advertising , cleans the driveway with small toothbrushes etc. but despite doing Twelve hours work, Pete gives them both nickels instead.    

‘Winter Blunderland’

Max and PJ clean snow off the cars and RV’s at Pete’s car dealership but despite being expected to be paid for their work , Pete pays them in paperclips.

Max will sometimes on occasion try asking for an advance on his allowance if he can’t find any money but Goofy has done this so often that he can’t keep giving Max an advance on his allowance any longer.   

“Say uh Dad? You wouldn’t wanna slide me an advance on the old allowance , would ya?”-Max

“You’re already advanced clear to your seventh year of high school”-Goofy 

It’s why despite Max knowing that Pete is a bad dad , he tells PJ that he is lucky when Max is looking at Pete’s RV. This is because compared to him,  PJ’s family are able to afford the best - “Yeah, you can keep the moves. But I wouldn’t mind havin this RV. You’re so lucky man!”. 

When Goofy does give Max a present however , he tends to give Max presents that are either sentimental things from Goofy’s own upbringing or food related treats. This however often leaves Max disappointed even if Goofy is well intentioned. So even if Goofy could afford what Max wanted , Max usually ends up with something he didn't even ask for.  

‘Take me out of the ball game’

On Max’s birthday , he hoped to get a new hot skateboard or a video game but Goofy gives him a baseball bat , ball and glove which were the same ones Goofy used as a kid. Goofy gives this to Max as it’s his dream to have Max join the “The Spoonerville Sluggers” baseball team. 

Even though Max is seen to like baseball later in the show and in the movies , Max at this point hasn't played baseball yet and sounded disappointed when he found out what his birthday gift actually was.

It’s also stated in the same episode that Goofy gave Max 10 pounds worth of bubble gum for his last birthday. 

‘Goof under my roof’ 

Goofy tries cheering Max up by giving him a present but despite Max liking marshmallows he hopes that isn't his present - “Just as long as it’s not marshmallows” and acts disappointed when he guesses correctly. Probably because it’s a common gift he gets from Goofy too often.  

Goofy Movie 

Goofy gives Max a Fishing pole which has been handed down from Goof to Goof to Goof.  “Wait!I saved the best for Last. Ayuk! It’s been handed down from Goof to Goof to Goof. And now, it’s yours son.”-Goofy

“A stick?”-Max

“No silly. A fishing pole!”-Goofy

AEGM 

When adult Max receives a going away present before going to College, Max thinks he's getting an electronic device that is state of the art - “Oh! It weighs like a ton! I bet it’s one of those combo TV CD VCR laptop scanner fax things , right? Oh , man they are so cool!” But Max is completely stunned when it’s a typewriter.

Adult Max however does appreciate the sentiment once Goofy explains the thought he put into it though.   

Max’s education 

In AEGM , Max is focused on winning at the X games but he can be seen writing notes in class and carrying around books around campus. So as an adult , Max is taking his education seriously. 

When Max was a kid however , it’s hinted that Max would hide his report cards from Goofy and didn’t get top grades. 

Midnight Movie Madness  

“I'm 11 and a half. Nothing scares me.”-Max to Goofy

“Except Math tests.” - PJ referring to Max 

‘Educating Goofy’

“It’s not fair! Dad’s tryin to ruin me! He’s gettin better grades.” -Max 

'Tub Be or Not tub be' 

When Max doesn't want PJ telling Pete about their Tub racing secrets - “Remember Peej. This stuff’s more secret than my report card .

'Big City Blues' 

PJ jokes to Max - “You know , you could hide your report card in your dad’s shirt pocket and he’d never find it.”

Even though Max probably didn’t get the best grades all the time growing up , he does however get an A in his science report on Einstein which he was very happy to show off to his dad. Max has even been shown helping PJ study for PJ’s Maths test. 

'E=MC Goof' 

“Guess what , Dad! I got an A!”-Max to Goofy

Axed by Addition  

“Well you’re not the first guy I saved from an inverted fraction. Now i could help you cheat on the test…Or i could make you a math genius for Life!- Max to PJ

That being said. I think one of the reasons why Max struggled to get high grades is due to Max not getting a proper education before moving to Spoonerville. But now that Max can get a better education , Goofy tries to influence Max that his education is important. This is because Goofy knows well enough how hard it is to get a good job without a proper education and is experienced in the hardships of being poor.   

Educating Goofy

When Max is focused on other things than getting better at spelling , Goofy wants to prove to Max that education is important. “Afraid I haven't set a very good example for Maxie. Gotta prove to my son that education is important.” Goofy then decides to go to Max's school to get his diploma and thinks it will be worth it so he can set a fatherly example to Max.

AEGM 

Goofy wants Max to get a diploma from college so he can make something of himself. Gives Max the horse shoe lecture as a reminder to focus on his goals , a lecture that is implied to have been taught to Max a lot of times. 

'Meanwhile Back at the Ramp'

Goofy cares about Max getting a good education , but he doesn't pressure Max to be an overachiever or to be the top of his class. He just wants Max to try his best. 

“Max, I’m not gonna get that award now.”-Goofy

“Hey! At least you tried! That’s what you tell me.”-Max 

Wanting to be Rich and Famous 

Throughout Max’s life , Max has wanted to become rich and famous. Here are some Examples. 

'Waste makes haste'

After Max and PJ see you can get money for recycling , they try finding some to earn cash. 

“When we turn this stuff in, we’ll be richer than rich.”-Max  

'All the goof that’s fit to print'

When Pete makes his own newspaper , he makes PJ and Max reporters to which Max sees this as an opportunity to be rich and famous “Come on Peej. We’re gonna be rich and famous before supper!”-Max       

Then later in the episode when they get in trouble for trying to sell a phoney story , PJ tells Max that they shouldn't have done that but Max responds by saying “Television news. That’s where our future is. It’s immediate , it’s visual. It’s where the big bucks are!” 

'Educating Goofy' 

When Goofy is trying to teach Max spelling , Max at first isn’t that interested and says “And when I’m rich and famous, I can hire someone to do my spelling for me.”

'Talent to the Max' 

Max enters the school talent show as a magician, thinking the talent show is just the beginning to getting him fame and fortune - “We’re ridin a magic carpet to fame and fortune.”- Max to PJ 

'Slightly Dinghy' 

Max finds out about a long lost treasure so he goes looking for it with PJ - “Aww, Peej , ye of little faith. You drop me to the bottom. I’ll hook the anchor to the chest. End of nautical nightmare, beginning of a rich and famous lifestyle.”

A Goofy Movie 

Even though his main motivation in the movie is to get a date with Roxanne , during the song Max says the line - “I've got less than an hour and when this ended, I'll either be famous-"

Then later in the movie when Max and Goofy capture Bigfoot on camera ,  Max is happy at the thought of them becoming famous from them having the only video of BigFoot.

“I can’t believe it…Bigfoot!”- Max 

“And I’ve got the only video!”-Goofy

“We’re gonna be famous!-Max 

But why does Max want to be rich and famous? 

Max grew up not very rich and came from a poorer household compared to other families. So becoming famous would certainly be an easy shortcut to becoming wealthy and it makes sense that Max would want to be rich so he can have a better life for himself and to be able to afford whatever he wants. However , a part of the reason as to why Max wants to become rich is because he feels like he deserves it. 

'Slightly Dinghy'

In this episode kid Max wants to find a quarter so he can buy a video game but once he learns about a lost treasure, he disregards the video game in favour of being able to buy a whole arcade - “Treasure? Forget the video game. I could buy a whole arcade”. 

But when Pete drops the anchor which is carrying the treasure that Max found , a rain storm starts to form but instead of leaving the treasure Max says “No , I deserve this. I have this coming to me”.

From this point on , Max is so hyper focused on getting the treasure that he neglects his and everyone else’s safety despite their being a storm , their boat balancing in between a rock and them all being attacked by a mechanical shark. 

PJ has to warn Max three times to stop trying to get the treasure but Max is insistent on getting it even though he knows the danger there all in. Max isn’t doing this out of malice though , he's just a desperate kid trying not to lose an opportunity of a lifetime to get rich and does look guilty when he is caught each time.  

Then when Pete takes the credit for finding the treasure , Max tries to claim that the treasure is his and that he worked for it. “That’s my treasure! I worked for it. C’mon , lemme through!”-Max 

So in terms of wanting to become Rich , it’s because Max wants to be financially stable and because he feels like he deserves to be rich due to all the work and effort he goes through to earn a better life for himself. He feels like it’s owed to him. And when you have grown up poorer than everyone else , of course you're going to want to have a better life for yourself.   

Max wanting to become Famous though is rooted by more emotionally motivated reasons , which will get more into in Part 3. 

[lovebyhyun]

secret secret

genre : angst , jeongin x reader , non-idol!au , childhood bestfriends to ??

synopsis : what happens when faith seems to be against you, and brings you and your childhood best friend back to eachother?

warnings : mentions of weight loss and claustrophobia

word count : 1k

a/n : ik this is a bit unrealistic but i dont even care anymore lmao enjoy!! <3 also lmk if it i should do a pt 2 of this!

masterlist

You and Jeongin were friends in middle school, and you were inseperable ever since you two met. Everytime one of you had a place to be, the other one was there too.

Unlucky for you, your mom got a job offer at the other end of the country, so you had to move with your family.

It was hard to say goodbye. Not only to Jeongin, but to all your other friends, to your relatives, to your house. You lived there your whole life, so it was a big thing.

Big and overwhelming.

Your best friend was always there for you, and you just had to leave him like that. You and him made a secret vow that you’d keep in touch, and that nothing will change regardless the distance separating the two of you.

That was the first time you’ve broken a promise.

It was not that there was something wrong with him, no. If anything, it was the opposite. You couldn’t handle the thought of being away from him for what might be forever. So you decided to move on.

Sometimes, after all those years, you wondered if faith would ever connect you two again. A glint of hope sparked somewhere deep in your heart everytime you’d imagine a scenario of all the possibilities. It made your heart ache and twist, but you couldn’t help it. You always hoped.

That trust you had in fortune killed you slowly. It took all your strengths from you, and you didn’t even know why. You and Jeongin were just friends after all.

If so, then why were your cheeks stained with salty tears each time you thought of how he might’ve been gone from your life forever? Why, after all these years, you still couldn’t let him go?

The whirlpool of doubt lulled you to sleep each and every night, and it drive you crazy. It all was too much, especially with you having to move again soon, since you were leaving for college to study art, like you always dreamed to.

The day came, all of your suitcases and bags were packed, and you left to start a brand new chapter of your life.

You entered your brand new dorm, the floors freshly swept and the room looking too empty for comfort, bringing a claustrophobic shiver down your spine. You settle all of your belongings down and you make yourself at home. You’re going to spend a lot of time here.

The first day of classes went by pretty smoothly. You tried your best to keep up with taking notes and paying attention. You were doing pretty well so far.

Thats was until you stepped into art class. The one that you’ve been looking forward to the whole day.

You loved art dearly. Usually, if you weren’t busy with studying, you were most likely to be found with a paint brush, spilling your most abstract ideas onto canvas and making them come to life.

The art workroom was pretty small, and a few students were already seated, whispering away and glancing at one another.

You spot a similar silhouette sketching something in their journal. You recognize the breathtaking details of his face immediately.

Jeongin.

You weren’t even sure why did you recognize him after all this time. You haven’t seen him for so long, would he even remember who you are?

You decided to shoot your shot before the chance to redeem the long lost friendship is gone.

You approach him carefully, settling down in the chair next to him and setting your bag in the floor beside you.

“Hey. I like your drawing.” - whisper to him, making sure he hears but doesn’t get scared at the sudden voice.

Jeongin just looks at you confused.

“Hi..?” - his voice unsure and full of doubt. He didn’t recognize you. “Thanks, I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Your smile falters at the realization. Did Jeongin actually forget you?

Seems like he did. You decided not to back down and instead take that as an opportunity to try for something more than a friendship that made you feel trapped with your actual feelings towards him.

“You’re talented. What’s your name?” You ask him, trying to come of as confident. You notice a slight blush creep onto his cheek at the praise.

“Thanks, Jeongin. And you are?” He shyly asks, his eyes finally looking up to capture yours.

He noticed that familiar spark in your eyes that ounce brought hum so much joy. He knew he recognized you, but he couldn’t figure out why.

You couldn’t really blame him. You’ve changed a lot since the last time he saw you. Your face matured, you’ve lost some weight, and the fire in your eyes wasn’t burning as bright anymore.

“I’m y/n” You answer hesitantly, as you start unpacking your bag and placing the items carefully on the desk.

The whispers in his head seemed to be repeating your name louder and louder, yet they still were so quiet. Who were you? He got lost in his thoughts, zoning out as the class started.

Jeongin couldn’t help but glance at you every now and then during the class. You were beautiful after all, it was natural for him to do so.

You couldn’t quite focus in the subject the teacher was rambling about, color theory was not your favourite thing. Furthermore, the scent of Jeongin’s cologne was even more distracting.

You knew it all so well. The way his fingers fidgeted with his pen, his leg bouncing on the floor in a steady pace and his lips forming into a slight pout everytime he’d focus on taking notes.

It was the essence of Jeongin. His effortless charm and the behaviour that made every person spark with curiosity, was purely him.

All you could think of doing was asking him out. You knew now was not the time, but you were absolutely aching to do it. You were resisting the urge to talk to him with every single ounce of will you had left in your body.

So you fought through it. As soon as the class was done, you flashed Jeongin a quick smile and left after grabbing all your belongings.

It made your heart ache and your limbs felt twisted, but you knew that you couldn’t force Jeongin into being just as in love with you as you were in love with him.

It was not possible.

[triplefrontierbabe]

Back to friends

summary: you finally see Logan after a long while

pairing: Logan Sargeant x f! reader (Kyle Kirkwood's younger sister)

warning: angst, hurt, language

a/n: part three of a multi-part series In This Life?

part one | part two | part four

Mid October 2024 

Two months out and you were doing better than you thought. You got back into a routine and started to live life for yourself— something you hadn’t done in a long time. 

Morning Pilates class was part of your daily regimen before you went to work. Your parents were gracious enough to let you stay at home while you got back on your feet. You managed to get a part time job at a local restaurant to have some income while you tirelessly applied for full time jobs. 

One October day, as you walked into work, an Indycar rumor post came across your Instagram feed. 

Logan Sargeant to test for Meyer Shank Racing. 

You stared at the graphic for two, three, maybe even four minutes. 

Part of you felt happy for him to finally have a shot at getting back into racing. But the other part of you felt an overwhelming sense of selfishness. Once again, you couldn’t have anything to yourself. Not to say that you had sole ownership over Indycar, but ever since Kyle had started in the series, you viewed it as a special family event. 

At dinner that night, all your brothers, their partners and your parents all seemed to have seen the news as well. Of course, the moment you stepped into the house, their voices fell to a hush as they hastily changed the subject. 

Mid December 2024 

Like clockwork, when the Kirkwood-Sargeant-et al Christmas party rolled around, Logan had conveniently become the center of attention in the world of motorsports by joining the European Le Mans series. You were happy for his career but you didn’t allow yourself to dwell on that for too long.

You didn’t really want to attend the party but not showing up wasn’t really in the cards. One part being the fact that it was your family’s turn to host but more importantly, Vicky had convinced you to make the party the beginning of your “comeback era”, as she called it. 

“C’mon, girl.” Vicky said as she opened your closet doors to find an outfit for you. “You can’t stay holed up forever. And, I mean, it’s impossible for Kirkwoods not to be around Sargeants.” 

You knew she was right and you hated it. Aside from your brother, Vicky was one of the only people who was able to keep you sane amidst the breakup. She was constantly there for you; picking up your calls in the middle of the night, sitting with you while you cried over a cheesy chick-flick and most all bringing some normalcy back into your life. Needless to say, she was team Kirkwood all the way. There was no two way friendship she had to worry about maintaining, unlike your brother. 

“Okay, how about this green top, it really compliments your eyes.” Vicky said, holding an evergreen top up to you. 

Guests started to trickle in as you made your rounds through the house greeting people and offering hors d'oeuvres when you could. 

You were pulled into a conversation with your parents and their friends, talking about life and how your job was going when he entered the house with his brother in tow. 

His eyes were immediately drawn to you. How could he not look at you with your head thrown back in laughter, your eyes sparkling and your hair flowing effortlessly down your back? 

As your brothers and their friends greeted Logan, his eyes kept darting back over to you. He was still magnetized to your presence even after all this shit he put you through.

If he wasn’t part of the equation, he would’ve never guessed that you just got out of a long term relationship and relocated yourself back in the states. Unlike himself, who could barely sleep anymore, you looked refreshed and rejuvenated— full of life. 

It stung him to see you seemingly move on while he still suffered. 

The night continued on with dinner then dessert. And, like all Christmas parties before, as the sun went down the parents and the kids formed their own groups of conversation. The parents stayed inside around the kitchen island talking about everything under the sun while you and the other kids got a fire started outside. 

Dalton and Kyle quickly organized a game of beer pong among their friends while you, Vicky and the other women sat by the fireside to watch the game from afar. 

The guys were so enthralled with their game, whooping and hollering whenever anything happened. Logan however was withdrawn from all the excitement. His eyes kept drifting over to you while you chatted with the girls. 

You had felt so deprived of genuine female friendship for so long, you began to wonder how you managed to even survive that way for so long in London. 

Part of your answer was staring right at you. 

You met Logan’s gaze for the first time that night. And for the first time in his life he felt such an indescribable and inexperienced feeling in the way you looked at him. 

You looked at him as if he were a complete stranger— someone you’d never met. 

It was odd for you both to feel that way. That very backyard in which you both stood was where you shared your first kiss all those years ago after a long day out boating. You were young and naive then. You had fallen for your older brother’s friend by total accident. Logan knew the moment he kissed you under the shade of the trees that he was playing a dangerous game but he didn’t care since he had you. 

It was only last December that you and him were laying on a lawn chair together looking up at the stars and talking about your future. Then, you had hoped that by the same time this year you’d have a ring on your finger and plans of a wedding. You fell asleep with your head on his chest as looked at you and wished upon his lucky stars that you’d be the girl he’d marry. 

Now, he had nothing. He had no girlfriend to go home to at the end of each day but at least he was getting back into racing, though his heart wasn’t in it as much as he wished. 

He didn’t think being back at the Kirkwood house would open the floodgates of all these confusing feelings. But it did, and he knew the only person to blame was himself. 

How could you possibly go back to being friends after all this? Everything that was once second nature to you felt so distant and foreign. All the memories with your brother and friends did not feel like your memories– rather moments you got to be part of.

should I make a part four??

F1 Mastlerlist | Indycar Masterlist

taglist: @r0nnsblog @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @bernelflo @f1updates4you @meglovesmclaren

[moonshynecybin]

as one of the foremost motogp scholars of our time do you happen to know what the beef is with maverick and fabio bc they were teammates right? but everyone says they hate each other now idk

ik this is not a marc question and i apologize for asking something i could ostensibly do research in myself but i did try and i suck at research and you have crazy good insight into the interpersonal dynamics of these guys ajajsjksksksksksksk

anyway sorry!! love your blog!!!! if you dont know or dont have time you can just ignore me!! <3

HELP okay i’ll try my best… so uh. idk if they have BEEF per se but i would imagine that some of the animosity would stem from the state of yamaha in 2021 and maverick’s uh. handling of that entire snafu. and yamaha being one of fabio quartararo’s beautiful wives (the other is tony arbolino the OTHER other is being nips out in work situations). anyways under the cut it’s lawg

SO. source HERE it does a good job laying this all out, but mav moved from suzuki to yamaha to start the 2017 season and immediately had a real substantial string of successes. he topped testing (a more novel occurrence THEN than NOW…) and won the first two races of the season, with many of the top contenders in the class having comparatively more difficult starts to the year (marc, dani, jorge, AND dovi all DNFed in argentina in the wet lmao). unfortunately, in true maverick fashion, it wouldn’t last and his results would be a lot more spotty as the season continued, with marc and dovi emerging as the true title contenders after the break and him finishing p3 overall (still ahead of valentino rossi…)

from there, our typically maverick pattern emerges, and maverick’s results kinda plummet more and more as the years pass by, with a few bright spots in tracks he likes. cracks are already showing in 2018, especially as vale ages and marc continues to be dominant while ducati improve. but like. maverick is a HUGE confidence guy!!!!and lin jarvis is in the press at austria 2018 like my rider’s qualified like total dog dookie!!! and maverick (most sensitive man on earth) is like okay. FUCK YOU… so things are already sliding nasty in 2018, but then he wins at assen in 2019 and re-signs w yamaha (even though ducati apparently wanted him. which is crazy to me but i digress.) it SHOULD BE NOTED that maverick himself was also publicly baffled by the decision from ducati to re-sign him, which EYE think says a lot abt his relationship with the team and confidence in his place there, and then they bring in all theses young hotties named fabio and franky and i imagine it’s like uh oh. i gotta PERFORM…

then 2020: shit hits the fan, marc breaks his arm, covid is going full blast, and no one knows what the fuck is going on. yamaha is very shaky through it all - fabio isn’t happy, maverick isn’t happy, everything is breaking or going wrong and there’s no pace on the bike and despite winning a GP maverick calls it the “worst season of his career!!!!” and also fabio is there with three wins looking. VERY good. writing perhaps on the wallll about the new guys and 21 yr old fabio is like. idk i can see why fabio’s friendly ass had a hard time vibing with all that. it doesn’t strike me as a natural vibe match.

and like. okay so famously the dramatic conclusion comes of COURSE in 2021 where mav got a new crew chief (he really liked his old one…) and then finished p19 in germany among serious grip woes that he claimed the team didnt have an answer for, all while fabio is charging to mount an actual title challenge, which i imagine didnt help things. like the pure comparison of it. exit rumors build (he podiums the next gp on the same setup he placed p19 in apparently, and like. doesn’t celebrate w the team at ALL in parc ferme like the vibes are OFFFF !!!), maverick is publicly critical of the team and unhappy with his situation, and then uh. he um. he gets fired AHEAD of assen 2021 and yamaha state he’ll leave after that season, a full year before his contract expires. boo tomato tomato from both parties…

MAVERICK (DIVAAAAAA comma 26 years old) responds by going full old school broadway dame and blowing up his engine on purpose during the 2021 Styrian GP in austria, sabotaging his own race. yamaha catch him handily, do NOT appreciate this, and straight up suspend him. maverick apologizes and says he messed up baby it was a joke please forgive him please. yamaha says you’re a SKANK… put in cal crutchlow good vibes angel from the heavens on that bike, who is later replaced with franco morbidelli full time. maverick signs with aprilia and rides with them for the rest of the season. maverick later lists fabio’s front row qualification performance as one of the reasons his emotions got the better of him in austria. fabio goes on to win the title. et voila. like TLDR i imagine the leftover taste in both fabio and maverick’s mouths concerning the whole ordeal is enough to put them off each other at least mildly for good.