#this is better for me personally in the long run

[buck-star]

Put your hands in mine

He can’t breathe. His lungs burn and the water above his head gets darker and darker. Theres no more light. Until there is again.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.263 Words

Warnings/Tags: Anxiety, hurt/comfort, crowds, established relationship, fluff

Authors Note: Part of the works for Mai — month of mental health awareness! You’re not alone and I’m proud of you! Divider made by me. Shout out to my favorite person @thevillainswhore for brainstorming, the aesthetic and for all the love and proofreading! I adore you, te iubesc.❤️

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

“Put your hands in mine.

And I will pull you out of the darkest waters.”

Loud noises. Crowded places.

Bucky hates it, and yet, he still tries to live his life as best as he can. He keeps trying to get out of your shared apartment more often, to be around people for longer periods of time. But somehow, it only makes him want to curl in on himself, with you wrapped in his arms in the safety of your apartment.

He’s not ready for the world just yet. He’s not ready for the business, the noises of the actions. He had them long enough — for years and years. And now, finally settled down with the woman he loves, he wants to keep the peace a while longer before he’s ready to face the loud world outside.

But somehow, sometimes he still manages to interact with the outside — as long as you’re by his side he knows he can do more than he believes.

Bucky’s fingers cling to the shopping cart he’s currently pushing through the aisle of the grocery store. His ocean blue eyes dart from one side of the aisle to the other and back to the cart as he takes in the different products.

Lots of jam, way more than he used to know back in the days. Bread — delicious and softer than he knows, and so many variants — you always buy different ones. One better than the other. But his favorite one is still the brown bread with the star on top. It reminds him of his childhood, and it tastes almost the same as remembers.

Maybe if he just keeps his mind busy enough he can try and mute the noises around him. If he just —

“Buck?” You ask softly, your warm fingers circling the back of his hand and his white knuckles. Your voice is soft and soothing, just like the smile that’s spreading on your lips.

You’re smaller than Bucky, but you’re standing perfectly in front of him to bring his attention to you. You’re blocking the people around you from running into your boyfriend, making it easier for him to focus on you — and only you.

“Do you want to get out of here already?” You offer but your boyfriend shakes his head and turns his head to interlace your fingers with his thicker ones.

You’re always so soft with him, sweet and loving. Bucky could melt with you around. The understanding and support you offer him causes his heart to clench every now and then, the insecurities growing stronger. How does someone dark like him, deserve someone so sweet like you?

Never pushing him, never judging him. Bucky wonders what he did to make you fall in love with him. But no matter what it was, he’s glad he was able to get your interest, to get the love you show him.

Bucky takes a shaky breath. You offered him to go shopping by yourself, but he didn’t want you to do it alone — he wanted to come with you. And even though he regrets his decision slightly, he’s grateful to have you around.

“N-no,” he says, forcing a smile on his plump lips. You sigh but nod, knowing that Bucky’s feeling overwhelmed already. But you also don’t want to act like he’s a kid who doesn’t know his own limits well enough to decide himself.

Bucky can decide when his limits are reached. And as much as he tries to push them every now and then, you know he would never lie, would it really be too much for him.

His eyes are slightly narrowed and he tightens his grip around your hand. “I-it’s fine, babydoll. A bit loud and crowded but not too much.”

You hum softly, followed by a soft giggle. You lean closer to him, standing in your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips before you wrap one of your arms around his waist. The other still interlaced with his thick fingers to sooth him and keep him calm.

“You’re doing good, Buck. I’m proud of you and I’m glad you decided to come here with me,” you mumble while you push him with you through the aisle. Bucky sighs softly, relaxing with your arm around him. He knows you will catch him when he feels like he’s going to fall and drown in his fear again.

When you finally reach the section with fruits and vegetables, you look for a quiet corner, pushing the cart and Bucky there to keep him away from all the noises and business of the other people.

A soft, warm smile spreads on your lips as he leans down to kiss you softly. Bucky’s blue orbs light up slightly when he can focus on you and the music of the store but nothing else.

It’s quiet. He can watch everyone and it’s less crowded. Perfect for him to wait for you to get a few fruits and vegetables.

You move through the aisles to take some apples and bananas before you move further to the vegetables. It’s a bit crowded but when you look up to Bucky you see him still softly smiling at you. There’s not many people around him, only an elderly lady and a mother with her kid.

So you look back to the vegetables and get some peppers and cucumbers too. You can still feel his intense gaze on you, taking in every detail.

Bucky’s tapping his fingers against the cart, keeping his focus on the music and on you so he won’t be too overwhelmed, until —

“Ow! I’m sorry, sir,” a lady apologizes as she pushes her cart with force into Bucky’s side. The kid on her arm is crying loudly, and the moment they notice their mother's attention on someone else — and not on the gummy bears they want — they start screaming.

The pain in Bucky’s hips is nothing compared to the noises that crash down on him like a heavy weight. The music from the loudspeakers is suddenly way louder. The mother talking to her child. The child that’s still crying and screaming. And suddenly he’s aware of every noise around him.

Bucky can hear every little noise in the whole shop. The people around him. The people on the other side of the shop. Even the registers and the cooling systems of the fridges.

His breath hitches, his chest tightens as he wraps his fingers tightly around the cart. His blue eyes are widened as the noises become even louder. Bucky can hear his heartbeat so loud and clear like every other noise in the shop. And there is no way for him to mute all these noises.

“B-ba…by-do—“ Bucky chokes, his hands shooting to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. He tries to pull on it, to rip it off his body but it doesn’t budge. It only tightens and becomes heavier until he feels like he can’t breathe anymore. “P-ple—“

And there it is again — the feeling of the dark water around him. Only a small amount of sun is shining through the darkness but it’s fading slowly. And he’s sinking, further and further while he feels like he’s drowning.

Bucky never thought it would be possible for him — or for anyone — to feel like they could drown without physically being in a body of water. And yet, he feels as if he's sinking into the depth of the ocean, the water surrounding him everywhere and there’s no place he could grab a hold on.

The water is hugging him like an old friend, but it isn’t an old friend. It never was and it never is — it never will be. It’s only his darkest enemy, his fear of losing control, of losing himself.

He gasps loudly, his eyes scanning the people around him to find you but everything is blurred. Everyone looks so similar, the voices mix with the others. He just can’t make out where you are, he can’t hear your voice, he can’t see your face, your worried expression or maybe your soft smile — he can’t tell because everyone looks just like the others in the shop.

“B-babydo-ol-l…” he whispers, tugging harshly at the collar of his shirt. A soft whimper leaves his plump lips as he feels his lungs burning. The darkness of his thoughts became worse. Even the corners of his view turn a few shades darker, supporting the feeling to sink further in the ocean.

The sun — actually the light of the shop — disappears with every second. The weight that’s pulling him down becomes heavier and heavier, his breathing unsteady and frantic as he tries to grab for anything so he won’t drown.

“Buck,” your soft voice is audible. It’s so close and yet so far. He can’t reach for you, but he wants to — he needs to. “Bucky, hey, baby. You’re safe, try to take a deep breath for me, please.”

He can feel your warm hand reaching for his. Your fingers curl around Bucky’s thicker ones as you pull his clenched fingers off his shirt. He doesn’t want to let go of his only grounding source but he also doesn’t stop you — deep down he knows you’re his real grounding, his anchor.

“Loud noises are overwhelming, aren’t they? But it’s okay. I’m here, I've got you. Just try and focus on my voice, I know it’s hard but you need to listen to me otherwise we can’t get out of here,” you say. Your voice is still so soft and soothing, warming his chest as he feels his eyes moving toward yours.

Bucky’s mouth opens before he closes it again. He remains silent but you can see his eyes flickering from yours to your fingers before they settle back on yours.

He takes in the soft smile that’s tugging at your lips as you stand in front of him — causing his heart to flutter slightly. Your fingers interlace with his as you rub soothing circles over the back of his hands. Bucky notices your lips moving, trying to calm him down and even though the noises are still louder than your voice, he can make out some of the words you’re saying.

“I know you listen to me, Buck. Maybe not completely but I know you try. And I’m proud of you, you’re doing so good, baby,” you assure him, hoping it will help him to calm down.

While dating Bucky you learned how to handle his anxiety and his panic attacks. Not just because of therapy but also because of all the talks you have after such a situation — allowing Bucky to look back and help you both to understand what you can do to either help or avoid these situations.

From finding out what overwhelmed him to what he felt until he can tell you what he might have needed, you talk about every detail Bucky wants to share with you. So, with his help of what he could have needed in such a moment you can try different things out until you both are happy with the result.

“You have to stay calm. I’m not gonna hurt you, but I need to cover your ears. It might be a bit of pressure but then the noises will be quieter,” you explain before you bring his hands to your hips, placing them there for him to ground himself before you reach up to cover his ears softly.

Bucky flinches, his fingers digging almost painfully into your hips as he stares at you with widened, fear filled eyes. Your thumbs stroke softly along his cheeks, still covering his ears as you feel him relaxing softly into your embrace.

Bucky’s breath slows down, the noises are quieter. Once again — like so many times before — your hand reached out for him when he was drowning. It’s your hands that take a tight hold on him, making sure he can’t drown in the darkness.

You move your hands down his cheeks, wiping away a few streaks of tears before you settle your hands around his neck.

“I-I’m sorry…” he mumbles, leaning his head against yours. Bucky takes a shaky breath, way more steady than before but still on edge with his emotions. “I shouldn’t have gone shopping with you… it’s only… I’m only in your way.”

“You will never be in my way. I’m glad you came to the shop with me,” you mutter, pressing your lips to the tip of his nose. “I don’t like you suffering like that, Buck. But you went out with me, you should be proud.”

“Are you proud?”

“Of you?”

Bucky nods softly. His blue eyes flickering to yours, uncertainty written all over his face. How can he possibly be proud of himself when he just had a panic attack where he needed your help to calm down?

“More than anything,” you say with such a softness and honesty that Bucky feels like he’s melting in your arms. He nods, sighing softly. “I’m really proud of you, Buck. You’re so much stronger than you think. You went to hell and back, and yet, you’re still so lovely and caring about the people you love.”

Bucky smiles softly, a soft pink creeping onto his cheeks as he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Don’t say that…”

“Because you know it’s true?”

“No… because it makes me blush,” he whines playfully. Bucky leans back a bit, his ocean blue orbs flickering to your lips, then back to your eyes. Within another second his warm, plump lips press against yours, pouring all his love and adoration into the kiss.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @rnurse-kole @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @irisk12 @lilyalone @thenameswinter99 @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @bamitzzsam @feynightlight @ethanhoewke @kandis-mom @peachy-satan00 @armystay89 @queen-honeybee-stories @p1nkgirly333

[maskedbyghost]

Possessive reader getting a body pillow cover of Simon made for when he’s on deployment for long periods of time and can’t communicate. Like a cat seeing a balloon of itself, man is pissy anytime he’s reminded it exists and gets reader’s undivided attention the moment he’s forced away from them.

You didn’t buy it as a joke. That’s the first thing people get wrong. You weren’t drunk or being ironic or trying to be funny about how much you missed him. You were just pissed off. He was gone again, longer this time, and he didn’t say how long exactly—just said he wouldn’t be able to call often, might not even text for a while.

And you just stood there, nodding like you were cool with it, like it didn’t already burn in your chest thinking about sleeping alone again.

So yeah. You searched “custom body pillow” that night with your jaw clenched and your arms crossed and your phone brightness on full blast, like that was gonna make it hurt less.

You found a site that let you upload any photo you wanted, and you picked that one—him shirtless, sweaty from a workout, giving you the kind of half-smile that made your stomach flip. He’d sent it to you months ago, and you’d never deleted it. Now it was going to be six feet of print pressed up against you under the blankets every night.

And you didn’t tell him. Of course not. You just tracked the shipping, yanked it out of the box the second it arrived, and dressed it in one of his old oversized tees—your favorite. The one he always pulled on when he got out of the shower, the one he always told you looked better on you than on him. It smelled like him. And now so did the pillow.

You laid it down on his side of the bed, adjusted the angle like a crazy person, and stared at it for way too long before you finally turned the light off. It wasn’t even that it made you feel better. You were just so mad you couldn’t have the real thing. If you had to sleep without him, then fine—you’d make damn sure there was no space in your bed left for anyone else. Not even empty air.

He got back weeks later. He didn’t even text that he was on his way—just showed up, opened the front door, and called your name like nothing had changed.

You were halfway through the hallway when you heard him go completely silent.

“Uh,” he finally said, and it was coming from the bedroom.

You turned the corner and saw him just standing there. Bag on the floor, keys still in one hand, mouth half open like someone had sucker punched him. The pillow was still there, obviously. Front and center. Still wearing his shirt. His face was printed life-sized on it.

“Oh,” you said, like you’d forgotten. Like it hadn’t been your emotional support sleep aid for two straight weeks. “That.”

“That?” he repeated, turning to look at you with full-blown betrayal in his eyes. “That’s what you’ve been sleepin’ with?”

“I didn’t exactly have options,” you said, walking past him to flop down on the bed. “You were gone. It was either this or cry myself to sleep.”

“You could’ve warned me,” he muttered, still staring at it.

You snorted. “Would you have stopped me?”

“…No.”

“Exactly.”

He finally tore his eyes off it and looked at you instead, arms crossed. “What, so I leave for five minutes and you replace me with a bloody pillow?”

“I wouldn’t need a replacement if you didn’t keep running off to fight bad guys every other month,” you said sweetly, patting the spot beside you. “Come on, it’s your turn. Might as well take your place back.”

He just stood there, unmoving. “You seriously slept next to that thing?”

“I did more than sleep,” you grinned.

He groaned. “Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“You jealous?”

“It’s a pillow,” he said, like the word offended him. “I’m not jealous of a fuckin’—”

“I rubbed my face on it every night. Talked to it too. Called it baby. You know, just regular relationship stuff.”

He stared at you, completely deadpan, then looked at the pillow again. “You’re sick in the head.”

You shrugged. “You love it.”

“I love you,” he snapped. “That’s the problem. You get away with this shit.”

You smiled like you’d won something. “You bet your ass I do. And if you ever get deployed without warning me again, I’m printing one of those full cardboard cutouts next. I’ll sit it at the kitchen table. Put it in the shower, even.”

He dragged a hand down his face, muttering something under his breath, and when he looked at you again his eyes were warmer. “You’re insane.”

“You love it,” you said, reaching for him.

He let you pull him toward the bed, finally dropping down beside you with a sigh. You tossed the pillow off to the side and straddled his lap like it was your rightful seat, hands on his chest, your grin smug.

He blinked, breath stuttering just slightly, and you watched the red creep up the tips of his ears as your fingers dragged down the front of his shirt. “You’re not allowed to be hotter than me and then disappear. That’s not fair.”

He laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ, woman.”

“You missed it,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “You missed me.”

“I really did.”

“Good,” you whispered, nose brushing his. “So don’t leave again.”

He kissed you hard, all tongue and teeth. “Make me.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

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

i just can't with these two

@daydreamerwoah @kylies-love-letter @ghostslollipop @kittygonap @alfiestreacle @identity2212 @farylfordaryl @rafaelacallinybbay @akkahelenaa @lovelovelovelovelove987654321 @wraith-bravo6 @tessakate @xocandyy @nightfwn @robinfeldt98 @bunnyxiis

[karikitdemon]

I have a triplegic uncle, he only has the use of one arm. He also has a bit brain damage if I remember correctly and he has been this way his whole life due to an unfortunate accident that happened when he was a baby. He can't do a lot of things like going to the bathroom on his own. My gramma and grampa used to help him with these things but now my gramma is old and can't lift him and my grampa passed away a while ago. My uncle is in a nursing home now but had to be moved around a bit until he got to this recent one cuz the other places were awful or too expensive, I think it was only two the more I think on it.

One place wouldn't bathe him nor help him go to the bathroom and instead put a diaper on him and DIDN'T FUCKING CHANGE IT! Uncle got a bad rash ALL OVER and he was suffering cuz it hurt. Gramma and my mom went up there and moved him out with a quickness. Now he is in a better home and thankfully is getting the help he needs. Sure they give him a diaper too but that's incase of accidents and they still transfer him to the toilet and to a shower-safe wheel chair and bathe him.

Now, if a man who can't take a shit properly nor bathe properly needs to save himself from a fire, what do you think will happen? HE'D DIE AND MY GRAMMA AND I WOULD BE HEART BROKEN! He has help and there are precautions in place so that there is less risk of a fire breaking out that bad at his nursing home but think about that. There are countless people who struggle and are forced to "Get over it" cuz "it's not that bad" if they need a wheel chair on occasion THEY NEED THAT WHEEL CHAIR!

Sometimes I get so overwhelmed and become nonverbal, I have an app I can use to help me communicate, it's an e-reader app I think, there are a lot of different ones to choose from. I use natural reader for multiple things this being one of them. Once I got into an accident on my electric scooter (two wheeled electric scooter where you stand) on my way back to work from lunch. I fell off in the parking lot and was fine. Got back up FELL OVER AGAIN IN THE STREET AND ALMOST GOT RUN OVER BY A CAR. Had to text my co-worker quickly to help after I got on the sidewalk. I couldn't work the rest of my shift cuz I was shaking and couldn't speak, had to write down what I needed help with, which was to call my gramma (I live with her) so she could pick me up. Gramma was a bit freaked out cuz her grandchild almost got run over and seeing me all frazzled and not talking was a lot for her cuz she never saw that. I used my phone to communicate with her while I let it ride out, cuz that's what works best for me. I get myself in a comfortable environment and relax.

I can't force myself to talk when I'm like that (I've tried and it just either doesn't happen or I yell out single words at a time unable to make full sentences, having to hid my chest to "force the words out" in a sense which NOT GOOD), I literally strain to speak. It's hard to explain to have others who don't struggle with this type of thing understand, but the way I put it is kinda like getting the wind knocked out of you but with words. You can breath but you can't speak even when you want to. You try as hard as you can but there's no words, a tightness in your chest, and a sort of fog or ringing in your brain.

Safe to say, if I were caught in a fire I might have a rough time talking to the operator on the phone or something and then I might die or get really injured.

Long story short, I'm very aware of visible and invisible disabilities from either personal experience or through second hand experience since I helped with my uncle before he moved to his current nursing home. Trust me when I say that people can die if they don't have the support they need if they're disabled! People with disabilities should not be undermined or dismissed and told to get over it, they should be respected and offered help and opportunities to make their lives better! Wasn't Stevin Hawking technically disabled and in a wheelchair?

Help a disabled person, help the next potential Stevin Hawking! Just be nice!

I hate how often some (typically abled) people will go “well, if you can’t [get a specific support], then what?” when it comes to disabilities. As if it’s a “gotcha” moment. And then act like you’re exaggerating when you answer that question honestly.

Disabled people often die from a lack of support. A lot of disability aids are not a luxury, but a basic need in order to live.

“Well what happens if—” people die. People hurt themselves. People hurt others. Disabled people don’t magically become abled if our needs aren’t met.

If a bedbound quadriplegic is caught in a housefire, and there’s nobody there to save them, they’ll probably die. They won’t magically become able-bodied out of sheer will.

If a nonspeaking/nonverbal autistic is denied access to alternative methods of communication, they’ll suffer in silence. They won’t spontaneously become capable of speech.

Disabled people are disabled all the time. Our disabilities don’t go away just because they’re inconvenient, or if we’re in danger.

[kxsagi]

THE GIRLDAD REQUEST?! HELLO?! SO CUTE!!!

u should definitely make a series of that, its so cute!

anyways, i need a live reaction of the bllk men getting jealous if his own children interrupts the time he is trying to spend with wife! reader. even better if a son and daughter is added — where they’re both clingy, but the son’s loud on purpose to tease his jealous father and the daughter is quiet, whining out for attention.

imagine it’s during a cuddling session, then randomly get kicked off of the bed. LMFAOAOO!!!

i hope my request made sense, i’m like half-awake rn. if you could do it with all of the bllk men, it would make my day!

“����𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬”

a/n: thank you!!! i LOVE domestic fluff, might make a series, but who knows bc i've never made one before 🌚

ft. isagi yoichi, kaiser michael, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin

isagi yoichi

all he wanted was ten minutes. TEN minutes of uninterrupted cuddle time after a long day. 

he finally gets you in his arms, snuggled under the covers, whispering something flirty, then suddenly– 

BANG. 

the door FLIES open and your 5-year-old son barrel-rolls into the room like an olympic athlete. 

“MOMMY I NEED A HUG! AND A JUICE BOX! IN THAT ORDER!” 

isagi sits up like 🧍 “bro.” 

you’re already opening your arms because you’re a mom and you love your baby, but isagi looks personally offended. 

“he doesn’t even like juice boxes??” 

your daughter peeks in a second later, dragging a blanket, softly whining “mommy, ‘m cold… i want to sleep on your tummy…” 

you: 🥹🫶 

isagi: “W-WHAT ABOUT ME? I’M COLD TOO. I WANT TO SLEEP ON YOUR TUMMY.” 

eventually your son kicks him off the bed: “DADDY GO AWAY I’M CUDDLING MOMMY.” 

he hits the floor with the force of defeat. 

mutters “traitors… my own family…” while watching from the carpet like a forgotten labrador. 

kaiser michael

do not test this man. he is POSSESSIVE. he finally convinced you to stay in bed five more minutes, wrapped around each other, when the door creaks open. 

“no. no. no. no.” he chants like a horror movie victim. 

your son is already mid-run. “MAMA LET’S PLAY JUNGLE CAVE–” and launches onto the bed. right on kaiser’s stomach. 

he wheezes like he just took a soccer ball to the ribs. 

your daughter waddles in quietly and gently climbs up, snuggling into your other arm like a sleepy kitten. 

“this is fine,” you giggle. 

“NO. this is NOT fine.” 

“papa, you can go now,” your son says with a mischievous smirk. yes, this tiny demon knows he’s stealing your attention. 

kaiser’s eye twitches. “why don’t you go play with plastic instead.” 

you bonk him on the head for that. 

by the end, he’s dangling off the bed edge with a blank stare, mumbling in german under his breath while your kids hog your warmth. 

“i’m the man of this house,” he whispers to himself. “... i am.”

itoshi sae

you were peacefully spooning on the couch, sae half-asleep with his nose buried in your hair. everything was perfect. 

then your daughter appears. 

no words. no noise. just climbs silently onto your lap like a cat and cuddles into your chest. 

sae cracks one eye open. “... are you serious.” 

a second later your son cannonballs onto the couch, full WWE-mode. “DADDY MOVE, MOMMY’S MINE NOW!!” 

sae is FLUNG off the couch. hits the carpet. 

“ow! what the hell?!” 

“LANGUAGE,” you scold while petting your daughter’s head. 

sae just lays there like he’s in a sitcom intro, staring at the ceiling. 

“they were your idea,” he mutters. 

the kids: 🧍🧍 

later, he’s sulking in the hallway muttering about how “no one respects the father in this house” and that he “hopes they grow up to be introverts.” 

your son is not an introvert. he is you, but LOUDER. 

nagi seishiro

he was having the time of his life. warm blankets, cuddles, your soft voice whispering, “just five more minutes, sei.” 

he’s melting into the bed. peace. heaven. 

then pitter patter– 

both kids climb in and curl up on top of you. 

the weight shifts and you roll away from nagi, instinctively pulling the kids close. 

“... huh? where’d you go?” he blinks into empty space. 

he lifts the blanket. it’s just him and his betrayal now. 

“hey. hey. i was cuddling mommy first.” 

your daughter makes grabby hands toward your face. “mamaaaa…” 

your son throws an arm across your neck like a wrestling move. 

nagi frowns. “why do they get to sleep on you?” 

“because they’re adorable.” 

“i’m adorable, too.” 

crawls back under the blanket and tries to lift your arm like a flap to sneak under. your son kicks him. 

“bro,” nagi mumbles. “square up.” 

eventually lays half on top of all three of you, like a big sleepy cat refusing to lose. 

itoshi rin

rin? cuddling? rare. sacred. a national holiday. 

he finally let you curl into his chest and was just relaxing when– 

clunk. the sound of something being dragged across the hallway floor. 

thud. 

“... what is that,” rin mumbles. 

your kids enter like they own the house. your daughter climbs up, whimpering, “mommyyyyyyy i missed you…” 

your son: “I WANNA BE THE PILLOW. MOMMY USE ME AS A PILLOW.” 

rin’s eye twitches. 

“no. she’s my pillow.” 

your son launches into the bed. rin barely dodges a knee to the stomach. 

five seconds later he’s on the floor, disheveled, watching you snuggle the kids. 

rin: “i didn’t even say anything rude this time. why me.” 

daughter: “daddy looks sad.” 

rin: “i am sad.” 

sulks at the doorway like a ghost. 

don’t worry, you call him back after five minutes and he gets sandwich cuddled by all of you. he pretends to hate it. he does not hate it. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[gabseyoo]

A WEDDING NIGHT — SAKUSA KIYOOMI (1)

content: female reader, pro volleyball player!kiyoomi, brother’s best friend!kiyoomi. word count: 1,3k.

links: masterlist | part two | part three

note: i giggled like a teenager writing this <3

You twisted your arm behind your back for the third time, fingers blindly clawing at the zipper of your dress. No luck. Again.

Today was your brother’s wedding—honestly, you were still trying to figure out how that weirdo managed to land someone that lovely and sane—and you were supposed to be downstairs in fifteen minutes to take pictures with the bridesmaids for the wedding album. Which was, of course, the perfect time for your dress to stage a personal attack.

You sighed and dropped your arm, stepping back from the mirror. The dress really was beautiful. It fit like a dream, skimming your waist and hugging your hips like it was made for you. The color made your skin glow, and with your makeup and hair done, you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant. Grown-up. Pulled together.

Too bad your zipper disagreed.

And the worst part? You knew this would happen. You’d tried the dress on last week, remembered how impossible it was to zip it up on your own and still chose it anyway because your mom had waved a hand and said, “Don’t worry, I’ll help you put it on.”

Naturally, Ms. I’ll Help You Put It On had vanished twenty minutes ago to “check on the bouquet” and was now, according to the family group chat, sipping wine at the hotel bar with one of your cousins. Classic.

After taking a few breaths, you tried one more time, clearly without success. God, you’re desperate at this point, maybe you should just go downstairs with your dress unzipped and tell one of the girls to help you. Who cared if half the hotel caught a glimpse of your bare back and—well, let’s be honest—half your underwear? Nobody. Or well, maybe you could throw a coat on, or a…

At that moment, the door opened. 

You spun around fast, startled, the back of your dress still gaping open. You almost froze in shock at the sight of him. 

Your brother’s best friend. 

Sakusa Kiyoomi.

In a black suit that looked ridiculously good on him. The jacket sharp, the collar open just enough to show the edge of his throat. His tie was loose like he’d just undone it, or maybe never tightened it properly to begin with. His dark hair just a little tousled like he’d run a hand through it out of habit.

His eyes widened the second he registered the scene. “Oh god, I’m sorry. I thought your brother was here.”

“He’s in the room across the hall.” You said quickly, arms instinctively wrapping across your torso.

“Right. Sorry.” He backed up a step, already half-turning like he was going to leave.

Impulsively, before he could close the door, out of your mouth came a “Wait!” that definitely sounded more desperate than you would have liked. 

He paused with one hand still on the doorframe. “Tell me?”

You almost laughed at how formal that sounded. What was he? A butler? Well, he looked like one with that suit.

But today you decided better to swallow the comment and save the sarcasm for later because now you needed to blurt out a question before you regretted it. 

“Can you help me with my zipper?” 

Kiyoomi was silent for a few seconds before slightly leaning his head out of the door opening, revealing his confused face. “What?” 

“My mom was supposed to help, but she ditched me for a drink.” You said quickly. “And I need to go take photos with the bridesmaids. I’m out of time.” You rubbed your hands together to distract from your nervous energy. “Can you help me?”

There was a beat of silence. Long enough to make you shift your weight.

Kiyoomi’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes swept down your frame and then back up. Too slowly. Not in a disrespectful way—he’d never been that kind of guy. It was more like he was thinking deeply if he wanted to help you or not. 

He pressed his lips together. You thought he was about to say no. 

But then, he stepped forward. Quietly closed the door behind him with a soft click. “Okay.” 

You turned around slowly, eyes on the floor, brushing with your fingers your collarbone as if to distract yourself. Behind you, the room shifted with his presence, quiet but undeniable. You didn’t need to look to know he’d taken a step closer. You felt him, the same way you always had.

He didn’t speak.

You could feel his gaze on your back, on the half-zipped dress exposing your spine. The air felt warmer. Tighter. Your eyes flicked to the mirror in front of you, catching his reflection standing just behind you. Close. Closer than you expected.

He moved carefully, reaching for the zipper with steady hands.

His fingers brushed the fabric. A flicker of contact that made your skin hum beneath it. He caught the zipper between his fingers and paused— like he was giving you one last chance to change your mind.

Then he started to pull.

Slow. Smooth. Deliberate. The zipper glided upward, the dress cinching to your body with every inch, until the exposed skin of your back disappeared beneath the fabric. But it wasn’t just the pressure of the dress that made your heart race.

It was the heat of him behind you.

The closeness. The silence. The way your eyes met in the mirror.

He didn’t look away.

And just when you were about to, you heard his voice, quiet enough to wonder if he even meant for you to hear it.

“You look beautiful.”

Your breath caught.

The words didn’t sound like they were meant to flatter. There was no teasing edge, no smirk. Just quiet honesty, soft and low—almost reverent.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, lips parted, heartbeat a little too loud that you worried that in the silence of the room he could hear it.

Kiyoomi was already looking at you. Not at your dress. Not at your reflection.

At you.

And then—slowly, without speaking—he lifted one hand, brushing a knuckle gently against your cheek. It was a delicate touch, tentative, as if asking for permission. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. The moment hovered between you, weightless and fragile, like a held breath.

Your gaze dropped to his mouth just as he leaned forward, just enough that you could feel it… the possibility. The electricity in the air. The way your stomach flipped like something long buried had just surfaced.

But then—

Knock knock knock.

“Sweetie? You ready?” Your mom’s voice called through the door, followed by your cousin’s laughter.

You both froze.

Like the world snapped back into focus and the lights had come on all at once.

Kiyoomi stepped back immediately, hand falling from your face like the contact had never happened. His expression shuttered. He ran a hand through his hair, like brushing off whatever had just almost happened.

“All set.” He said, voice calm— too calm. “See you at the wedding.”

Then he turned, walked to the door, and opened it.

Your mom and cousin were standing there, both of them with a glass of wine in their hands. He gave them a polite nod and a faint smile.

“Ladies.” He said simply, before slipping past them and disappearing down the hall.

They turned to you like wolves scenting blood.

“Was Sakusa Kiyoomi stepping out—” Your younger cousin whispered, eyes wide, “or did I just dream of him and his beautiful curls?”

Your stomach flipped with nervousness at her words. 

“Yeah, he just— helped me with the dress.” You said, still staring at the now-closed door. “Since someone did not.”

“I’m sorry, sweetie.” Your mom said, distracted as she straightened the necklace around your neck. “But I mean... he helped you? Like, with his hands?” She asked with disbelief in her voice.

You didn’t answer.

Because honestly?

You weren’t sure it had really happened either.

tagging: @anonymity-222

[cursedcola]

ALRIGHT EVERYONE!

Nobody asked - but I broke down the construction of Epel’s cardigan from the sleepwear card as best I was able (aka. Me zooming in on him and staring very intensely).

This is the pattern idea I’ve come up with and a few grid charts. This is not finished, but what I’m going forward with to make his coat this month. My goal is to be done by the end of June.

So. Looking close at his sleeves - the closest resemblance we’ll get in the crochet world is the honeycomb stitch for the argyle diamonds. My plan is to break his sleeve into fourths. Three large panels of honey comb for the diamonds, and two smaller panels of a curved half-double-crochet to create dividers. The cardigan is clearly oversized on him, and even if it’s because of his smaller stature - I want to be SWAMPED in this thing. So the cuffs need to be CHUNKY. I’ll be going in with either a ribbed stitch, or a back stitch of double crochet. When the time comes I’ll test both to see which looks better.

Now - we’ve got the granny squares.

Looking at my little dude - we can see that they’re not just the front panel. They’re going on the back as well. Since I can’t see behind him, I’m going to take creative liberty and make one large panel of honeycomb stitch to be a central strip on the back. The front panels and side panels are going to be made of jumbo cranny squares.

For those of y’all who don’t crochet - the average granny square is about 25x25 stitches. Except oversized cardis use 8 of these bad boys per front panel. So since Epel has only four on each side, that means those squares gotta be JUMBO.

Zooming in - we see that the patterns are more embroidered. They’ve got texture. Since we’re crocheting, the best way to achieve this is to do pixel crochet for the squares and then go over the designs with a basic embroider stitch. This can be any of your choosing - I’ve yet to pick but will note what I want when the time comes.

There are THREE types of squares on Epel’s coat. I’m just calling them blossom, diamond, and apple. Since there are only three, it would have been difficult to make an entire back with them without having two of a kind touching or diagonal from each other (this is personal preference. I hate how this looks) which is why I’ve decided to go for that middle panel of honeycomb stitch.

The rest of the cardigan seems simple enough. The collar and trim is likely a simple ribbing, and those look like classic farmhouse wooden buttons if I’ve ever seen them.

EDIT (5/6/25): So. Complete change of plan for the sleeves now that I’ve gotten some sleep and thought on it. There’s a cable-knit stitch in the crochet world that closely resembles knit cables. Also lattice stitch or Tunisian crochet can be used for the diamond pattern. So if you want simple/beginner then do the honeycomb with a twisted hdc. If you want advanced then mix the cable-stitch with lattice.

Now - let’s talk materials.

I’m going with acrylic for this. Would it be absolutely divine as wool or a nice, dense alpaca blend? Definitely. I bet that’s what Epel has since his family runs a farm.

I am broke so I’ll be going in with a medium - weight acrylic, hook size 6, and all the granny squares will be done with basic hdc. Although acrylic is a bit itchy - id any of y’all choose to do this? Soak that finished product in a fabric softener solution. It’s a few dollars and your project will lose that scratchy texture. Just don’t let it hang out in the bath too long or the fibers will loosen more than you’d like.

^^^^ This is my general eyeball for how I’ll be constructing this piece. There aren’t any measurements since I’ve get to get my yarn and do a gauge…also, I’m not too sure how oversized I want this. I want to be swamped but not weighed down so hmm…

-

I don’t know how many of y’all like to crochet or do fibre arts - but I fell in love with this coat the moment I saw it and knew it had to be mine. I’m the impatient sort, and already ordered my supplies despite telling myself to wait. Pixel crochet does take a hot minute, so I’m hoping for June but the finished product will likely be more around late-july or august. Just in time for fall and market living where I live!

I could go quicker - but uh, I work as a bridal tailor and Run my own small shop off this app. I spend most of my day sewing lol. It’s been a hot minute since I made something for me, but dang it Epel made it look so cute. I just have to.

No one’s asking, but I’ll be updating. I’m literally so excited and my package of supplies can’t get here quick enough

[lila-lou]

✨Temper - 1/2✨

Summary: Being with Ben was tough... more than tough, actually. Yet, you stayed because you loved him. But when he thought you were going to leave, he snapped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader (Kinda dark)

Warnings: 18+ only! Language, Angst, Hurt, Manipulation, Humiliation

Word Count: 5005

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient.💜

It had only been a few months since you’d agreed to go out with Ben. Back then, you barely knew him beyond the rumors and the occasional encounter while you worked your usual behind-the-scenes gig for Butcher's team under Grace Mallory. At first, you only saw Ben in passing, one of those faces that would show up on your floor once in a blue moon. But after that first real meeting—when he actually stopped and looked at you—his visits became more frequent. You just hadn’t pieced it together then; he’d made a habit of running into you on purpose. And you didn’t know that, to him, you were the first woman who’d caught his eye in any real way since he’d woken up in this world that felt like it had left him behind.

One day, he’d shown up in front of your desk, asking—no, demanding—that you go out with him. Looking back, you should’ve known better than to say yes, especially with a supe, let alone Soldier Boy. But you did, and you went down that path. After the first time you slept together, you’d ended up in the hospital for two nights. Trying to explain to the doctors that it was consensual hadn’t been easy, though. Ben had tried to keep himself controlled, but it had been a while for him—a long while. And as he’d put it himself, you were an “extraordinary little delicate, breakable fucking human”.

Once you got out of the hospital, something in him shifted. He seemed to realize he needed to handle you more carefully, and he did. Behind closed doors, he’d learned to be gentler, even protective. But out in the open, he was still Soldier Boy: that same smug, misogynistic ass he was with everyone else, including you. It wasn’t exactly shocking, then, that you were dreading tonight—Thanksgiving dinner, with the whole team. Annie, Frenchie, everyone. They’d learned to tolerate Ben over time, but nobody exactly wanted him there. Now, as your boyfriend, he was on the guest list, thanks to Annie’s reluctant invite. And while he claimed he didn’t even want to go, you’d hoped this might be a chance to show the others that there was more to him—the side you’d managed to uncover behind closed doors.

You’re standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your hair for what feels like the tenth time. Ben’s in the other room, making his presence known with muttered complaints. His apartment finally feels like it belongs to a living person instead of a display model—thanks to you—but tonight, he’s just grumbling.

He walks into the bedroom, shirt half-buttoned, and catches your eye in the mirror. “You know, doll, this whole ‘let’s play family with the goody-goody gang’ is really killing my weekend plans”, he says, scratching his jaw. “Would much rather keep you here. Or hell, maybe on the kitchen counter. I got about fifty better ideas than sittin’ around with those idiots”.

You give him a look through the mirror. “You mean spending a few hours without throwing punches is torture? Poor you”.

“Hey, I’m serious”. He steps closer, tilting his head as he gives you a very blatant once-over, his gaze lingering. “I mean, who the hell needs Thanksgiving dinner when I’ve got you lookin’ like that in my bedroom?”. His hand slides to your hip, grip possessive as he pulls you back against him. “Hell, doll, I’d rather get a different kinda appetite satisfied tonight”.

You suppress an eye roll and push him back, turning to face him. “It’s Thanksgiving, Ben. It’s one night. You can survive that, right? Just try to be, I don’t know, civil?.”

He scoffs, buttoning his cuffs with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Civil? That’s rich. You think they’re gonna put on their best manners around me? Especially that French fuck with the weird accent and grease-slicked hair. Probably think he’s some kinda ladies’ man, too. Bet he couldn’t handle five minutes with you”.

“Ben, focus”, you say, tightening his collar. “All I’m asking is you leave everyone alone for one night. No macho crap, no reminding everyone you’re some old-school badass”.

He grins, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what you call it? When you were under me last night, I remember you callin’ it a few different things”. He leans down, voice rough and low in your ear, hand slipping down your back in a way that makes you want to laugh and smack him at the same time. “Tell you what. I’ll sit through this little dinner party if you give me a reason to look forward to what happens after”.

You laugh despite yourself. “How about we survive dinner without a single brawl, and maybe we’ll see about that?”.

“Now you’re talkin’”, he says, grinning as he stands back.

You sigh, adjusting his collar. “But remember: no fights, no dirty looks, and no making Annie feel like she’s gonna throw up every time you open your mouth”.

Ben grins, staring at himself in the mirror over your shoulder, brushing through his hair with a lazy flick of his hand. His gaze is fixed on his own reflection, barely glancing at you but making sure his smirk is on full display. “Gotta say, sweetheart, I’m doin’ Annie a favor even showin’ up. Girl probably hasn’t been within ten feet of a real man her whole damn life”.

You shoot him a sharp look. “Ben, that’s exactly what I mean. Don’t talk like that tonight, especially around her”.

But he’s not listening, too busy adjusting his hair and then letting his hand drop to his slacks, pulling them down just a bit to settle more comfortably. “What? Just callin’ it how I see it. She acts like she’s got it all figured out, lookin’ down on me like I’m some kinda relic”. He snorts, running his thumb along his belt line, low and casual. “Let’s see how long she’d last back in my day, where girls actually had a use. Not just walkin’ around preachin’ about how the world should be”.

You raise an eyebrow, keeping your voice steady, though there’s a flicker of something in your eyes. “Is that how you see me too, Ben?”. You ask quietly, crossing your arms as you stare at him in the mirror. There’s just a hint of sadness there, something you hadn’t meant to let slip, but his words had dug in just enough.

Ben pauses, his hand still resting on his belt as he finally meets your eyes in the mirror. For a moment, his usual cocky smirk falters, replaced with a flicker of something almost defensive. “Aw, come on, doll”, he mutters, glancing away as if the question had caught him off guard. “You’re different”.

“Different?”, you press, voice low. “What does that even mean?”.

He sighs, scratching his jaw in clear discomfort, like he’s irritated he even has to explain himself. “Look, you’re not like them, alright? You know how the world works; you’re not runnin’ around with some half-baked fantasy about savin’ it. You get it”. He shrugs, trying to brush it off like it’s obvious. “That’s why you’re here with me, isn’t it? Not one of those self-righteous pricks”.

You hold his gaze in the mirror, the tension thick between you. “Sometimes, Ben”, you say slowly, “I wonder if you really see me. Or if I’m just… convenient for you”.

He lets out a frustrated huff, turning to face you directly. “Convenient? Fuck, sweetheart, if I wanted convenient, I’d find someone who didn’t give me hell every other day”. He steps closer, crowding you in with his presence, his expression hardening, voice low. “If you didn’t mean somethin’ to me, I wouldn’t be here, wastin’ my time with all this domestic crap, would I?”.

The sharp edge in his words makes you falter for a moment, but he doesn’t stop, his eyes darkening as he looks at you. “You’re the one thing I got that’s worth a fuck. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna change who I am just to play nice with a bunch of do-gooders”.

There’s a beat of silence as his words sink in, and his grip on your arm loosens slightly. He swallows, and for once, there’s a rare flicker of something almost vulnerable in his eyes as he holds your gaze. “Look, just… don’t go thinkin’ you’re like them. ’Cause you’re not, alright?”.

You nod slowly, searching his face. “Alright”, you say softly. “But just… try to remember that when you’re around them tonight. I don’t want to spend Thanksgiving defending you to everyone”.

He gives you a lopsided grin, clearly relieved to move past the heavy moment. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be a good little soldier. No promises on the French guy, though”. He straightens his jacket, glancing at himself in the mirror one last time with his usual self-satisfied smirk. “Let’s go knock their boring little socks off, huh?”.

You start to open your mouth to complain, maybe give him one last lecture on behaving himself, but before you can get a word out, Ben reaches out, gripping the back of your neck with a rough, firm hold. He pulls you close, his lips crashing down on yours with a raw intensity that leaves no room for protest, only for the surge of heat that spreads through you. His other hand finds its way to your hip, fingers digging into you possessively before sliding lower to grab a handful of you, pulling you against him.

The kiss is forceful, unapologetic, and so very him, as if he’s reminding you in his own twisted way just how much he means those rough-edged words he’d let slip moments ago. When he finally pulls back, his face hovers close to yours, his smirk returning, but there's a new edge to it, something dark and possessive.

“Guess that shut you up, huh, sweetheart?”, he mutters, his hand still resting on the back of your neck, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. “Couldn’t stand there and let you think I don’t see you. I see you, alright. Better than any of those sorry excuses out there ever could”.

You swallow, your heart pounding as you try to find your balance, both physically and mentally. His words settle into you, their impact intensified by the fire he’d ignited with his touch.

He steps back, just enough to give you a little breathing room, but his hand lingers, keeping you close. “Now, are you gonna keep preachin’ at me, or are we gettin’ to that dinner so I can watch ’em all choke on how damn good you look?”.

And with one last smack on your ass, he smirks, turning toward the door.

The drive to Annie’s apartment is quiet, but tension lingers in the air, heavy and electric. Ben keeps one hand on the wheel, his other arm casually draped over the console, his thumb occasionally brushing your hand as if he’s just reminding himself you’re there. But as the car pulls up to Annie’s building, you can practically see the shift in his demeanor. His jaw sets, his shoulders straighten, and that familiar distant look settles over him. Soldier Boy—unfeeling, unbreakable—slides back into place like armor.

When you step out of the car, Ben doesn’t offer you his hand, doesn’t even wait for you to catch up. He strides ahead. By the time you’re outside Annie’s door, his eyes are narrowed, his expression sharp. The warmth he’d shown you back at his place is gone, replaced by that cold, hard edge he wears around others.

The door swings open, and there’s Annie, a bright, welcoming smile spreading across her face as she takes you in. “Hey! So glad you guys could make it!”. She gives you a quick, genuine hug, but when her gaze shifts to Ben, there’s a visible flicker of unease.

Ben keeps his expression carefully blank, a hint of that sneering detachment visible in the way he barely acknowledges Annie. His eyes sweep over her, and he gives her a single, disinterested nod before stepping inside, his hands shoved into his pockets as if he’s already bored. You shoot Annie a small, apologetic smile as you follow him in, feeling the weight of his presence—silent but heavy, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Annie glances over at him with a tight smile, trying to keep things friendly despite the tension hanging in the air. “Thanks for coming, Ben”, she says, her tone polite but cautious.

Ben doesn’t bother with a response, just lets his gaze drift around the apartment with a faint look of disdain.

Eventually he shrugs, muttering, “Yeah, sure, great place”, in a tone that suggests he’d rather be anywhere else. He saunters further in, hands still in his pockets, shoulders tense but posture lazily dismissive. It’s the kind of presence that makes the whole room feel smaller, tighter—like everyone’s waiting for him to either crack a joke or start a fight.

Annie shifts awkwardly, her polite smile faltering. “Um, help yourselves to drinks”, she says, glancing between you and Ben, her gaze lingering on him with an edge of worry. “And make yourselves comfortable”.

Frenchie, from the other side of the room, raises an eyebrow and leans over to M.M., muttering, “Comfortable is not in his vocabulary, oui?”.

Ben’s head snaps in Frenchie’s direction, his smirk turning sharp and predatory as he leans against the wall, arms folded. “Keep makin’ those stupid jokes”, he drawls, his voice low and challenging, but loud enough that it hangs in the suddenly quiet room. “See where it brings you”.

Frenchie doesn’t flinch, though a flicker of annoyance crosses his face. He shrugs, hands raised in a casual gesture, as if to say he’s unfazed. “Ah, apologies, monsieur”, he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Didn’t realize the mighty Soldier Boy was so sensitive to a little humor”.

You and Annie exchange a tense glance before stepping into the living room. You take a steadying breath, crossing over to Ben, who’s still standing, arms crossed and jaw set as he watches Frenchie with that familiar look of disdain. Trying to avoid escalating things any further, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, leaning in close to whisper, “Ben, please. Just go sit down”.

He rolls his eyes, clearly irritated, but he lets out an exaggerated sigh, glancing back at you with a smirk that’s anything but friendly. “Whatever you say, doll”, he mutters, loud enough for everyone to catch the faint mockery in his tone. With a dramatic show of indifference, he strides over to the couch and lets himself drop into it, sprawling out as if he owns the place, one arm draped across the backrest, legs stretched out in front of him.

You settle in beside Ben, but as soon as you do, he pulls his hand back from the armrest, subtly shifting away just enough to make it clear he doesn’t want it to look like he’s too close to you. The movement is quick, almost instinctive, as if any hint of softness or connection between you two would be a mark against his tough exterior. He leans back, folding his arms across his chest in a posture that screams indifference, eyes fixed forward with a steely look.

Across the room, Kimiko sits beside Frenchie, curling up against him in a quiet, comfortable way that speaks of unspoken trust and familiarity. Frenchie wraps an arm around her shoulders, casting a wary eye in Ben’s direction but choosing to focus on keeping things peaceful. The contrast between their closeness and Ben’s deliberate distance feels sharper than ever, a reminder of just how much he resists letting anyone in.

You steal a glance at him, feeling a mix of frustration and something softer—disappointment, maybe, though you’d never admit it out loud. Ben’s eyes catch yours briefly, and for a fleeting second, there’s something there—a flicker of acknowledgment, or maybe even regret—but just as quickly, he shutters it away, hardening his expression as he shifts his gaze back to some indistinct spot on the wall.

Annie takes her place near M.M., her posture straight but tense as she tries once again to smooth things over. “Alright”, she says, her voice soft but steady. “Let’s just relax and enjoy the night. It’s been… a rough year for everyone, and it’d be nice to just be together. All of us”.

Ben lets out a low chuckle, raising an eyebrow. “Touching, really”, he mutters, the faintest edge of sarcasm slipping through. “Didn’t realize we were here for some kinda group therapy”.

M.M. shoots him a warning look, his patience visibly thinning. “Ben, nobody’s askin’ you to change who you are”, he says, voice firm but calm. “Just to leave the attitude at the door for one night”.

Ben shrugs, glancing around the room with that familiar, taunting smirk. “Hey, I’m here, aren’t I? Bein’ real polite, keepin’ my hands to myself”. He gives a pointed look at Frenchie and Kimiko, his smirk widening. “Not that everyone here seems to get the memo”.

Frenchie’s jaw tightens, and you feel a surge of frustration. “Ben”, you say quietly, just loud enough for him to hear, your tone edged with a hint of pleading. “Please. Can we just… keep it civil?”.

He looks at you, eyes narrowing slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. For a second, it seems like he might relent, that maybe your words got through to him. But then he just shrugs, looking away, his smirk back in place.

“Sure thing, doll”, he mutters, barely glancing at you. “Whatever makes you happy”.

Annie, sensing that things might finally calm down, raises her glass, giving everyone a hopeful smile. “To… surviving each other for one night”, she says with a small laugh, attempting to lighten the mood.

Everyone raises their glasses, clinking them together with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Ben raises his with a half-hearted nod, giving you a sidelong look that’s hard to read—part defiance, part challenge, and, somewhere deep down, maybe even a trace of something softer. But as quickly as it’s there, it’s gone again, replaced by that familiar cold distance.

You settle back, determined to make it through the evening, clinging to the hope that, maybe, there’s still a chance he’ll let his guard down—if only for a moment.

Everyone’s conversation gradually shifts, stories about vacations and places they’d like to go filling the room with a rare, relaxed energy. You start to let your guard down a bit, feeling some of the tension in your shoulders ease. People laugh, joke, and for once, Ben is quiet, not making any snide comments. Just listening—or at least pretending to.

Then Annie turns to you, her eyes bright with genuine interest. “Hey, didn’t you just come back from Hawaii?”, she asks, smiling. “How was it?”.

A warmth spreads through you as you recall the trip, and you open your mouth to tell everyone about the little things Ben had planned. It hadn’t been just a vacation; he’d actually tried—finding hidden beaches, showing you places he thought were worth seeing, even arranging a sunset boat ride that he’d played off as nothing but had been undeniably romantic. For a second, you think maybe he won’t mind if you share this part of him.

But before you can get a word out, Ben cuts in with a loud scoff. “Hawaii, yeah”, he says, voice dripping with mockery. “Little trip where princess here spent half the time squealin’ about the sand and sunsets. Real cute, real delicate. Nearly cried when she saw a turtle”.

You feel your cheeks heat up, caught off guard by the way he’s twisting it, reducing everything you’d shared into a cheap joke.

You clear your throat, determined not to let Ben’s dismissive tone overshadow the memories you hold close. “Actually”, you begin, trying to steer the conversation back on track, “we did this incredible hike one day to a hidden waterfall. It was a little off the beaten path, but it was beautiful—took hours to find it, and the view was just… breathtaking”. You glance around the room, feeling a little more at ease as you share the experience. “The kind of place you’d never think you’d find, like a scene out of a movie”.

But before you can continue, Ben chuckles, low and unrestrained, flashing you a smirk that makes your stomach tighten with dread. “Yeah, sure, breathtaking”, he says, his tone thick with sarcasm. “Though, if I remember right, sweetheart, the view wasn’t what had you catching your breath by the time we got there”. His smirk deepens, eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint as he leans forward, clearly reveling in everyone’s discomfort. “Whole place to ourselves, secluded… You’re fucking right we made the most of that”.

You can feel the heat rising to your face as he deliberately twists the memory. Your heart sinks as you catch the expressions around the room—Frenchie’s raised eyebrow, M.M.’s thinly veiled irritation, Annie’s wide-eyed embarrassment.

“Ben”, you say softly, trying to rein him in, but he just shrugs, flashing you a grin that holds not even a hint of apology.

“What?”, he says, lifting his hands in mock innocence. “Just givin’ ’em the real story. I mean, why leave out the best part?”. He chuckles, leaning back as he takes a long sip of his drink, completely at ease with himself, as if his words hadn’t just peeled back a vulnerable moment and cheapened it in front of everyone.

Annie clears her throat, trying to salvage the conversation with a strained smile. “Sounds… like quite the adventure”, she manages, but you can see the discomfort flickering in her eyes.

You force yourself to smile, though it feels hollow. “Yeah, it was… something”, you murmur, choosing not to meet Ben’s gaze. The memory of that waterfall—the stillness, the way he’d looked at you, the rare softness in his voice—is clouded now, overshadowed by his careless words.

As the conversation moves on, you feel a tightness in your chest, a quiet frustration building inside. It’s like he’s taken a piece of something private and twisted it into a spectacle, and though you know it’s his armor, his way of keeping distance, it still hurts.

After a while, M.M., who’s been quietly observing the tension in your posture, leans over, his voice soft but direct. “Hey, you mind givin’ me a hand in the kitchen?”. He gives you a look that’s both understanding and reassuring, as if to offer a momentary escape from the sting Ben’s comments left behind.

You nod, grateful for the opportunity, and rise from the couch, slipping away as casually as you can manage. Ben barely glances up, his attention now fully fixed on the football game playing on the screen with Butcher beside him. The two of them share a low chuckle, both watching with intense focus, perfectly at ease in their shared interest in the game.

Following M.M. into the kitchen, you let out a quiet breath, feeling the weight lift from your shoulders as the chatter from the living room fades slightly. M.M. gives you a small smile, pulling a few dishes from the counter as he begins to prep.

He glances over at you, his eyes filled with that familiar, no-nonsense empathy of his. “You good?”, he asks, keeping his tone casual, though there’s an unmistakable warmth in it.

You manage a small nod, though the corners of your mouth pull into a faint, reluctant smile. “Yeah, I’m… fine”, you reply, though even you can hear the strain in your voice. “Thanks for this, by the way. Just… needed a minute”.

He nods, setting a dish in front of you. “Figured. That man doesn’t know how to quit, does he?”. He shakes his head, glancing back toward the living room.

“You know, some guys act like that ’cause they don’t know any better. With him, it’s like he knows better but just… chooses not to”.

You let out a soft sigh, fingers absently tracing the edge of the dish. “It’s… complicated”, you say, not really wanting to get into it but appreciating his understanding. “It’s like, when it’s just the two of us, he’s… he’s different, you know? And then the second we’re around other people…”. Your voice trails off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

M.M. nods knowingly. “Yeah, I get it. You got a man who thinks showing any kinda softness makes him look weak. So he builds up walls, throws out insults, makes everything a joke”.

M.M. pauses, studying you for a moment before he shakes his head with a low, thoughtful mumble. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Too good for a guy like him. Ben’s just… a damn dick sometimes”.

You let out a heavy sigh, feeling a familiar urge rise up to defend Ben, as complicated as it always is. “He’s… it’s not always like that, M.M. He—”.

But M.M. raises a finger, silencing you gently but firmly. “Do I need to remind you of your little hospital stay?”. His voice is low, almost cautious, like he’s not sure if he should bring it up but knows it needs saying.

You sigh again, shoulders slumping slightly as the memory drifts back. “That was one time, M.M. And it wasn’t on purpose”.

M.M. looks at you, his expression softening but his eyes firm. “Sure. But what did he say afterward?”. He leans in, lowering his voice. “He blamed you for bein’ so ‘easily breakable,’ didn’t he?”.

The words hit you harder than you expected, even though you’d tried to bury that memory. You remember lying in that hospital bed, bruised and sore, with Ben at your side as he muttered, “Didn’t think you’d be so damn fragile. Thought you could handle it”.

You mumble, almost more to yourself than to M.M., “I know… but he’s been careful since then. He’s… he’s trying, M.M”. Your words feel uncertain, as if you’re trying to convince yourself as much as you’re trying to convince him.

M.M. pauses, studying you with a look that’s both understanding and wary. He doesn’t say anything right away, but his expression speaks volumes—a mix of concern and that unflinching honesty he’s always shown you.

“He’s trying, huh?”, he says softly, his tone carefully measured. “Maybe he is, in his own way. But the question you gotta ask yourself is… is it enough?”.

The question lands like a quiet echo in the kitchen, and for a moment, you don’t respond. Because deep down, you’ve wondered the same thing. Is his trying—the brief, quiet moments where he shows you a softness no one else sees—enough to outweigh the times he shuts you out, belittles you, or shrugs off the hurt he causes?

M.M. lets the silence stretch a bit, as if he knows you need the space to let his words settle. He picks up a dish and starts washing it, his gaze soft but steady when he finally looks back at you. “Look, I ain’t here to tell you what to do. You see somethin’ in him that makes you stay, and that’s between you and him. But just… don’t lose yourself in tryin’ to fix him”.

You swallow, a weight pressing against your chest as you nod slowly. “I know, M.M. It’s just… he’s not all bad. I’ve seen a different side of him”.

“I’m sure you have”. M.M. nods, and there’s a flicker of something almost protective in his gaze. “But remember, he’s the one who’s gotta be responsible for his actions—not you. Ain’t your job to take on his hurt or his past, no matter how much he makes it feel like it is”.

You give him a small, grateful smile, feeling the warmth of his words settle around you. “Thanks, M.M. Really”.

He nods, giving you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. “Anytime. You got people here who care about you, alright? Don’t ever forget that”.

You take a deep breath, gathering yourself before stepping out of the kitchen and back into the living room, M.M.’s words lingering in your mind like a quiet reminder of what you deserve. But just as you re-enter the room, you catch a flicker of something in Ben’s expression—a subtle tightening around his eyes, his mouth set in a hard line. You realize, with a pang of unease, that he must’ve heard at least part of your conversation with M.M.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 2

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Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick @lmg14

[littlemelaninfics]

Kinda out there, but can you do slightly darker Hotch and inexperienced (season 1 or 2) Reid where Hotch is holding reader down while Reid eats a girl out for the first time?

Warnings: noncon, SA, forced orgasm, Dark!Hotch, 18+ ONLY

"Wow. She's even prettier in person."

“Can you smell her?” Reid inhaled deeply from his position at the foot of the bed, mewling at your scent.

Though you're putting up the best fight you can, you're no match for the broad frame of a man holding you down to the bed as you thrash and writhe pathetically; with frustration settling on his face to mix with his disappointment, Aaron tsks at you. Practically embarrassed with how you’re acting in front of a guest.

"Y/n.” He spoke sternly. The bass in his voice vibrating to his grip on you,

“You know you're not getting out of this. It’s best to stop while you’re still ahead.”

"Please-" you try to beg once more, but with exhaustion settling in over you as Hotch secures you to his chest from behind with his arms wrapped around your torso and his long legs encasing yours, you know the outcome is getting bleaker by the moment.

“You’re okay," he tries to sate you, noticeably impacted by your tears and protests, "i just want to make you both feel good."

"He’s right," Reid coos, his grip tightening on your thighs in excitement as he manages to raise a hand to strike swiftly across your tear-soaked cheek. Heat rises immediately to flood the flushed flesh, a frightened whimper escaping your lips as you fall limp against the pair, earning a hum of content from the dark-haired man behind you. "That's better," he sighs in relief. They were both practically salivating, at this point. Reid almost shaking, “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

He attempts to soothe you, his face dangerously close to your exposed warmth. Your knees close instinctively, but Hotch is quick to readjust, prying you open to give Spencer easy access. “She’s gonna need some warming up. Tease her,” Aaron was making direct eye contact with his pupil at the foot of the bed.

Spencer leaned in and placed a kiss to your exposed inner thigh, leaving you quaking in fear. You shut your eyes and whipped your head to the side when he started moaning softly.

"There you go," Hotch murmurs approvingly, glancing over your shoulder to watch as your heartbeat is going wild.

"Now go ahead, Reid. Pull her panties to the side and find her clit. You're gonna wanna work it with your tongue; sucking on it's usually the best way to go."

Reid nodded, licking his lips as he lowers his face to meet your mound, his nose bumping against it gently as he runs his tongue over your engorged flesh, the soft sensation sending tingles running up from your toes. "There, that's it," Hotch encourages as he reaches around to tightly grip your tit, "follow me.” Reid looked up his hand coming up to encase your breast, kneading softly before lowering his head back between your pried open ones.

“Feel that? She's warming right up for you." You couldn’t help your nipples coming to stiff peaks at the new stimulation. Spencer only hums in agreement, the warmth of his breath against you only causing your wetness to grow as he works his tongue skillfully, yet timidly.

When his lips reattach to your bundle of nerves and close in to begin suckling, you can't hold back your response; a heated whine escapes you as the tender bud is worked by the man's mouth, a familiar fullness beginning to build in your belly.

“No. Please stop.”

“Go faster, Reid.”

“No! Please stop! I don’t wanna!”

“You’ll be the first. Please cum for me.” It was Reid’s turn to beg. He’d never caused a woman pleasure, so you cumming is a greater achievement than his PHDs.

"Come on, Y/n. Be a good girl and cum for him," Hotch pants against your ear, his words the exact push you need to be thrown over the edge. You clench down brutally against Reid’s tongue as your toes curled up almost painfully as your orgasm tears through you, feeling embarrassed that your body betrayed you. Reid took his time cleaning you up when you felt Hotch’s grip on your limbs loosen, too exhausted to try to run.

[honeytonedhottie]

shopping tips from a professional shopaholic⋆.ೃ࿔*:･👛💕

in this post im going to give you the rundown of my all-time FAVORITE activity… shopping! and i must say im quite the professional. i’ll be talking about navigating sales, identifying deals, and finding the CUTEST stuff that’s worth ur buck…💬🎀

GOOD DEAL VS. BAD DEAL ;

let’s imagine there’s a big sale going on. $5 for 10 basic tank tops that are so cute! but the quality isn’t very good. but it doesn’t matter cuz there r 10 different tops right? WRONG. quality > price ALWAYS, sometimes cheap isn’t a good deal if it won’t last. if it’s a reasonable price for good quality than it’s a good deal, but if u have to pay a pretty penny for good quality products it’ll be worth it in the long run.

when shopping for clothes think of investing in pieces that will actually get used. imagine ur looking at two super cute hand bags, one is $50 that you’ll prob wear like twice and that you don’t anticipate will last very long and the other is $150, it’s designer and it’s high quality and goes with more outfits.

the $50 bag worn twice = $25 per wear. not worth it.

the $200 bag worn 100+ times = $2 per wear. way more value for your money.

now THATS girl math. investing in well made pieces actually saves you money in the grand scheme of things. you’ll have go to pieces, so make sure ur thinking about you’ll be wearing the piece ur about to buy.

FINDING THE GOOD STUFF ;

when shopping i love to go to the mall or online shop but ultimately THRIFTING has my heart. i’ll find these super cute pieces or pieces with loads of potential that i have a vision for, and i’ll DIY it until it’s exactly what i want. that way i have original pieces in my wardrobe that no one else does. it makes me feel like a custom barbie doll 🎀

when shopping i gravitate towards clothes within my color palette (pinks, black, browns, creams). because i know my colors and my palette so well it’s easy for me to mix and match pieces and thinks blend easier. next i check the fabric bcuz even if a piece is cute, if it won’t last i don’t bother wasting my money.

another thing i always make sure to do is try on the piece before purchasing it because the fit is also important. i want the piece to flatter my proportions. another thing i take note of is unique details that elevate that the piece already has or that i can add. some examples include…

faux furs

rhinestones

cute ruffles

always browse beyond the mannequin displays. oftentimes the best pieces are hidden in the back of the rack or in sections you wouldn’t normally check. also, don’t sleep on the kids’ or men’s sections, they have good stuff there too!

NAVIGATING SALES LIKE A PRO ;

sales are such a blessing when u know how to navigate them correctly. when theres a sale make sure to ask yourself if you'd buy that same item at full price. if not, PUT IT DOWNNN. a discount literally means shit if the item is just gonna collect dust in ur closet.

also, know what a real sale is as opposed to a fake one, some stores mark up prices just to mark them down again. do ur research and compare prices to different shops to see if you’re actually getting a deal.

PRO TIP : holiday sales and end-of-season clearances usually have the best markdowns, so that’s when i go all out and stock up...👛💕

ONLINE VS OFFLINE SHOPPING ;

the perks of online shopping include :

better for finding exclusive pieces

online only discounts and promo codes

make sure to check the reviews for something before buying anything!

the perks of offline shopping include :

you can actually try on the pieces

you see the item in person, feel the fabric, its much more intimate and personal

impulse buys are typically less tempting

to get the best from both worlds i'll do some research before shopping in person to check the quality. if I love it, i buy it right then and there. iff it’s cheaper online, i'll order it online.

REWARD SYSTEMS AND MEMBERSHIPS ;

if ur a shopaholic TAKE ADVANTAGE OF MEMBERSHIPS AND REWARD SYSTEMS, especially from shops and boutiques that u frequent.

🎀 keep track of birthday and anniversary sales

🎀 subscribe to emails

🎀 sign up for store memberships

SOME OF MY FAVORITE ONLINE SHOPS ;

🛍️ i.am.gia

🛍️ shou shou cherry

🛍️ princess polly

🛍️ prty grl beauty

🛍️ depop

🛍️ poshmark

🛍️ pieces of porcelain

[natsheretic]

warnings: oral (nat receiving), slight jealousy, fingering (nat receiving), nat's a little shit, semi public sex, brief mentions of alcohol, reader is kind of pussy drunk? nottt proofread lol

"christ, slow the fuck dow– ah! shit, just like that."

natalie doesn't know how she ended up in this position so suddenly, hiding in a random person's bathroom, sitting on the edge of the counter, with the one girl she's been hating for so long on her knees for her.

it started with nat seeing you dance with some random girl, she swears she just pitied the girl, since she didn't know who she was getting involved with. but there was this sinking feeling in her stomach when she saw the grin on your face as you spoke to this girl, jealousy blooming in her chest.

the blonde walked right up to you, claiming she had something to tell you in the other room, just to get you away from anyone who wasn't her. she didn't even wait for a response before her hand was wrapped around your wrist, dragging you to a bathroom.

she definitely doesn't remember kissing you when you got annoyed at her for pulling you away, and she definitely doesn't remember your hands grabbing her hips and groping her thighs as her hand slipped under your shirt to play with your tits. your hands had found their way into her hair, yanking her head back to trail kisses down her neck, both of you frantically stripping your shirts and bottoms, with you somehow– she pushed you– ending up on your knees.

maybe it was the alcohol you'd consumed, maybe it was obsession that's been festering and building since you first met nat, but you never wanted to pull away from her. your mouth lapped at her like you were fucking starved, two of your fingers pushed in and out of her sopping wet cunt, reveling in the pants that spilled from her lips and her fingers pulling at your hair.

your other hand was clawing at her thigh, leaving red lines on her pale skin. all you could do was fuck her, and it's all you wanted to do, all while listening to the pretty chorus of muttered swears and praises

“fuck, babe, yesyes–”

“so, so good for me. god, your mouth is so perfect”

you moaned against her at the praise, the vibrations making her pussy squeeze around your fingers. nat gripped your hair tighter, bucking her hips against your mouth, riding your mouth when you pulled your fingers out to slide your tongue inside her. her hand held you in place, the pain from her nails digging into your scalp didn't even register until her pussy was clamping down around you and you tasted her cum on your tongue.

you worked her through it eagerly, only stopping when she pulled you away from her pussy. you whined when your mouth was no longer between her legs, pressing your face into the plush of her inner thigh to cope with the devastating loss of her pussy. nat just laughed breathlessly at the sight of you pouting, her fingers running through your hair in an attempt to fix it, “you good down there, babe?”

you hummed in content, nodding against her thigh but refusing to move away from it, “gonna need you to get up so i can put my clothes on.” she said, tugging your hair to get you back up to your feet.

a huff blew out from your lips, you reluctantly stood up and faced her, placing both hands on the counter behind her, “better?” you asked sarcastically.

natalie's lips tugged into a smile, it was quickly wiped away by something that looked similar to guilt, looking like she was about to say something, but didn't, “now move, princess.” she murmured, pushing you away from her so she could put her clothes back on.

you asked where she was going, which just earned you silence, so you gathered your clothes as well. you pulled your shirt on over your head and turned to look at her, but she had already made her way out of the door, saying something along the lines of “tell anyone about this, and i kick your ass”

you scoffed once you were alone in the bathroom, leaning back against the counter and tipping your head back. you couldn't even be surprised, she was natalie scatorccio, she never stays. it's the only thing you can count on her for. but hey, at least she's consistent.

i lovelovelove nat i'm currently rewatching yellowjackets cause i miss my baby

[unnatural-happenings]

Of Capes & Billionaires

Took a break from staring at my Persona drafts again to write this instead lol. Would be the first part to this if I decide that finishing the future drafts is worth the time spent away from the Persona fic (ie if I enjoy it)

Fandoms: Batfam x Reader x Avengers

Characters: Damian and Loki. Some of the Batfam and Avengers are here too, but the focus is mostly on them

Notes: Reader is They/Them, Loki is here because I want him to be, Reader is a kid of Bruce Wayne, While this isn't a neglectful!Batfam fic the relationship is still tense atm, for Marvel I try to stick to MCU personalities but a little bit of comic or cartoon quirks might make it in

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

Living with Bruce Wayne has always been frustrating. The rules, the expectations, the press, galas, and vigilante nonsense makes for an extremely stressful environment. Adding family drama on top of all that is a surefire way to make you slip away at the nearest convenience.

Your second home with the Avengers is more carefree—less brooding, way less pretending, and always welcomes you back with open arms… and maybe a drink or two. They're your safe haven, and you'd love nothing more to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, your family has never been good at letting secrets stay secrets.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

Damian could not believe this farce you're playing is still ongoing. You continue to vex him even in your absence and make his evening worse.

It had been a long day. School was as dull as usual, the teachers not teaching anything new and his classmates completely vapid, he'd taken care of every one of his pets, already got Grayson to spar with him, the rest of his brothers have vanished, and patrols wouldn't start for another hour.

He was as free as can be and it left him annoyed beyond measure. His go to option for filling up dead time wasn't available—to his complete ire—so he spent time in his room trying to draw while Alfred the cat curled up next to him. Though he could barely focus on what he was actually putting to paper, as his mind kept drifting to the one person responsible for his current lack of activity.

Stewing within his head and staring at a sheet of paper filled with mindless doodles is when his phone buzzes next to him. It's in a familiar rhythm that has him instantly pick it up to check the notification.

Fury is the only acceptable word for what Damian's currently feeling.

His sketchbook is haphazardly thrown onto the bed as he gets up—annoying Alfred—and makes a beeline for the door. He storms through the manor, every step fueled by a deep, aimless frustration as he throws open one of the many entrances to the Batcave.

Everyone's already arrived before him—or it's better to say they were all already there, and all strewn about the place. Though he cares little for their positions when Drake is the only one that can provide any answers.

Damian's eyes dart to the Batcomputer to see what you just posted to your social on one of the bigger screens, and Drake typing away on another. It was a picture of you standing on the snowy peak of mountain—drinking hot chocolate, along with some blonde guy that definitely didn't deserve to stand in your presence.

"Drake."

"I know, I know, I'm already on it."

He stands there and watches as Drake goes through file after file, checking as much surveillance footage as possible and putting the unknown's face through every registry he could think of. By the end, everything comes back negative and he slides downwards in his seat with a groan.

Todd puts down the gun he was cleaning, obviously barely paying attention to what was happening on the screen having resigned himself to lack any expectations.

"Let me guess, nothing again."

Drake runs a hand over his eyes and Damian scoffs when he notices his leg start bouncing, "He still shows no results and they're no longer in that location anymore. This was posted long after they already left… Again."

He can't believe what he's hearing. To have gone this long without finding a single clue leaves Damian doubting Drake's skill altogether.

"I thought you were supposed to be the computer genius of the family. How come you still haven't found a clue as to where our sibling is located?"

Drake lets out a sharp exhale, "We've been through this ten over times now and every search has ended the same. They post the pictures when they're already out of the area, they have location tags and their GPS turned off, despite clearly being all over the world their profile always signs in from Sydney Australia, their email isn't real, they're using a highly encrypted device even Oracle is struggling to deal with, every purchase they make is either in cash or using another persons card, and somehow, not once have they been caught on camera by any surveillance."

He goes on to mutter under his breath, too low for Damian to make out any words, but it further irritates him anyway.

"Are you positive you're even trying? It's not like they're not some elusive figure."

Drake spins in the chair to directly face Damian, his extreme irritation made know at his prodding, "I wouldn't even slack during an investigation for Kite Man, to think I'd do so for any member of our family is insulting. I want to find them as much as you do. It's also necessary to learn how they've been able to avoid detection for so long—"

"Well it sounds like you're only searching because they hurt your ego."

"Are you hearing yourself—"

"Enough."

Their father calls out from the side. He doesn't do anything else other than stand their and stare, but it's enough to instantly silence both of them and keep them from continuing. He gestures with his head towards the screen, and Drake rolls his eyes before spinning back around.

From behind the bat, Jason speaks out while cleaning one of his firearms, "So what? Either he continuously wipes every database in the world, or he doesn't exist?"

Grayson also finally decides to join in with a comment of his own, "Could he be photoshopped at all?"

He walks closer to the screen to get a better look at the man you're posing with in the picture. Cain follows behind him, carefully studying the photo as well, but not adding anything to the conversation as of yet.

Drake sits up in his seat, his anger fading into exhaustion with another sigh, "No." He starts another scan of the blonde's face through a meta/mutant database, "Both options are seemingly impossible, considering they go everywhere together with no evidence of photo tampering. One moment they're on the beaches of Denmark and the next they're skiing in Canada!" He mutters under his breath, "Not to mention they didn't even take enough money to go on all these flights. I have no idea where they're getting the funds for this."

He slumps over again when the results turn up negative, just like every other.

Todd strolls over like he has no care for the outcome, but it only takes looking at his face to see how this is affecting him. His jaw tense as he glares directly at the light-haired man, no doubt trying to burn his appearance into his memory. Damian has also done this himself. but truly, he doesn't think Todd's earned the right to be as mad as he is at your disappearing act, and it makes his own blood boil even more.

"Tch. We wouldn't be going through such troubles in the first place if they took their phone with them. We should not be learning about their location through second hand sources."

That was merely meant to be a statement regarding the inconvenience of their search despite being family, but Todd felt the need to add to it and make it more personal.

"We wouldn't be trying to find them at all if they didn't run off without saying anything, then start hangin' out with a guy we can't track."

"They wouldn't have even left if you all didn't—"

"Are we really doing this now?"

This time, their father doesn't interfere as Damian starts another argument, merely grunt in disapproval. Cain takes one last look at the picture and leaves Grayson's side—who in particular is wondering if he should step in to stop the increasingly violent fight—to walk up to Bruce.

He acknowledges her with a nod and she gets right to he inquiry, "… What about Superman?"

Cain's interjection causes Damian to put a pause on reaching for the nearest batarang to fling past Grayson at Todd. He needs to hear if the Super family has any word on your whereabouts. They should, but if for some reason they know nothing or refuse to help, it shouldn't be to hard to get information out of Jon.

"He refuses to tell me anything, and has made a conscious effort to not report any potential leads to their location in Justice League systems."

Drake turns towards everyone again in the chair, "Conner hasn't said anything either."

Grayson's in the middle of picking up batarangs lying about the cave and putting them in his inner jacket pockets, "They don't want to be found that bad huh…" When he's collected all that he can see he steps in front of Todd—ignoring the hard look he's getting from him, "At least they seem to be doing okay for now."

Todd rolls his eyes and makes his way over to his bike, "Why are we even trying this hard to find them in the first place?"

Damian turns his attention back to Todd with a glare, baffled by the idiocy and his seemingly short-term memory loss. Before he could remind him again that this whole situation is partly his fault, Drake replies

"You were on B's side weren't you? You know why."

Todd looks back towards the group, and for a moment Damian could see how tired he actually was. His shoulders slouched and the bags under his eyes became more prominent, though the frustration at the world—or maybe just towards their father, is still clearly evident.

"I really don't anymore." And just like that he was back to acting indifferent about everything. He hops on his motorcycle and starts the engine, then digs through his bag for his helmet, "Goin' on patrol. Anyone joinin'?"

Already in her suit, Cain is quick to jump on the back of his bike. She accepts the spare helmet Todd hands her without question and swiftly locks it in place as he revs the engine.

Father steps forward, his tone stern as he watches them prepare to leave, "It's not—"

"It's already dark out. Don't start this again, we're still dealing with the consequences of the last one." Jason snaps back. With that, they take off out of the cave without another word.

Grayson leans over Drake to scroll through the rest of your pictures. Multiple of the recent pictures include the very same man that none of them are able to put an identity to. Drake and Damian also scanning each photo they go through, hoping for anything to make sense about the mystery man. In every picture you're happy and don't seem worried about him at all. None of your expressions seem fake either, if only a little exaggerated in some. You act like you've known this guy for years, so why hasn't anyone heard of him before?

Drake runs a hand over his face a d huffs out his next words, "This guy bothers me."

Grayson leans his arm on Drake's shoulder, ignoring his attempts to swat him off, "I know right? He's blonde, that just spells trouble."

"… That's not what I meant at all."

Damian tunes out the chatter from the peanut gallery and turns to his father to inform him on his plans, "I will ask Jon if Kent has informed him of anything, or if they know where they are already."

Drake snorts and lets out a quick 'good luck with that'. Damian has to fight the urge to turn around and insult him for even daring to laugh at his attempts. At least he was still doing something, unlike some of the others.

Then he thinks back on the argument that got you to leave unannounced in the first place and he changes his mind. Half of this family isn't good enough to go searching for you anyway. He's sure if you spotted them, you'd make sure you're never found again. All this over something so idiotic.

Whatever. Once he finds you he'll make sure something so asinine won't happen again, so you won't have to feel like you need to escape again. He'll beat it into everyone's head over and over to never look down on you again if it meant you'd tell him what's going on.

Maybe he should deal with that unknown with you as well. Whoever he is, he's way beneath you, and you shouldn't be giving your time to him at all. What would make you stoop so low as to hangout with random civilians over your own family?

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈✁━━━━━━━━━━━

"I swear to God if you throw that blue shell—"

"Too late."

You can do nothing but curse as your position is threatened. All you have is a green shell with a single coin in your back pocket, with no item boxes nearby to try for a boombox. Within seconds you're screaming as the blue shell reaches you and blows you into oblivion. You watch the entire race pass you while waiting for your kart to stop spinning out, ignoring the cheering from the God of Thunder and the victory lap the archer is currently doing around the room. By the time you can drive forward you have no hope of catching up to the front of the pack with no items and no coins, and come in 7th place. You fall off the couch to kneel on the floor, muttering about how you've disgraced your entire linage.

Natasha nudges your back foot from her position on the couch. She doesn't look up from the book she's reading, but obviously is addressing you with her next words.

"You still won the grand prix. Clint isn't even close, and Thor wasn't really competition to begin with."

You shake your head and lean back onto your knees, "You don't understand Nat. Every loss is a severe scar on my record. A stain. Something to be held over my head for years to come. I need to make up for this failure by setting the new world record on the track I've let best me in a moment of weakness."

That's when she looks up from the book she's reading, her brow quirked, not even trying to hide her amusement at your misfortune, "Aren't you already the world record holder?"

"It's obviously not good enough."

"You only lost because of a blue shell."

Suddenly you're being lifted off the floor. Extremely muscular arms wrap around your middle and pull you into a toned chest. Along with the deep laughter coming from the man behind you, and noticing the missing God of Thunder on the couch, you're easily able to identify Thor's the one to pick you up.

"You did splendid! You're mastery has indeed improved since we last versed one another, as have mine! Though Barton…"

Both of you bring your attention back to the archer to see he's still doing victory laps around the room.

"'Twas but a cheap trick. I assure you his proficiency is far below yours."

"A cheap trick means nothing. I still lost, and to him."

Thor only responds with more laughter.

Clint finally stops his self congratulatory dance to… correct your very wrong opinion of him, "Hey, that was not cheap! I worked hard to drive that Blue Shell to the front of the race!"

You wiggle until Thor puts you down, not wanting to argue held in his arms, "You're bagging tactics are cheap and lame!"

"Bagging requires skill—Wait you were bagging our last race! Why are you getting mad at me!?"

Suddenly a book slams closed, cutting off your oncoming rebuttal and drawing everyone's attention to the corner of the room. Another god sits in the corner, his displeasure made evident through the scowl resting on his face and the closed book on his lap. He stands with a level of grace only a spoon fed, self righteous royal could attain, causing you to grumble under your breath—assuming he's only acting this extra because he either wants something, or is planning something.

He shoots you a glare before addressing everyone in the room, his voice underlined with irritation, "You lot are trying my patience with your incessant howling. Attempting to put up with this noise any longer may cause severe damage to my own sanity."

You're heart sinks a little as he makes his way to leave, but on his way past he grabs the back of your clothes and drags you with him without a second thought.

"H-HEY! LOKI WAIT! THE GAME!"

The others do nothing to help you, all used to you acting as the mischief maker's shadow, whether willing or not. You make sure to flip them off before you turn the corner, seeing Natasha shrug and go back to her own book and Thor wave with one of the largest smiles you've seen on him. Clint only laughs at your predicament, so you mentally note to make him your target the next time you play a party game.

Once you're far enough away and Loki has slid his hand from the back of your clothes to your wrist do you speak up.

"You could just ask me to walk with you y'know?"

"So you wouldn't have thrown yourself to further rot away by the hands of that game to accomplish some arbitrary award that grants you nothing but bragging rights?"

"… No?"

"Don't lie to me."

You don't respond, and it's silent as you let Loki take you to wherever he's going. Soon enough you find yourself in front of your bedroom, Loki letting go of you and easily phasing through the door. With a roll of your eyes and complaints under your breath you follow after him.

He's already taken a seat on the egg chair you have next to the bookshelf and opened his book. You huff before looking around for things to do. There isn't much in the room, you never stayed long enough to bother personalizing it, but you do spot the Gamecube Tony bought for you as a joke. He was getting tired of you not doing anything, so he got that and a shelf full of games—said he was buying you a personality.

"Do not tell me you're still going to play that aggravating racing game?"

You continue to set up the console as you reply to him, "It's only aggravating when I'm playing with Clint, and is the one thing I have over Tim, so I gotta make sure I stay better then him." You look over to him and see he's still got his head in his book, "And you're reading! what else do you want me to do!"

Loki ignores most of what you said, only focusing on one thing, "If you are that keen on thinking about your family through every action then why are you still here? I thought you hated them."

"I just need time away." You sigh as you're thoughts drift a little more to the rest of your family, "That house is suffocating, but that doesn't mean I love them less. They're just being annoying."

A laugh escapes you when you think about how annoyed some of them must be right now due to your recent stunt, "That, and it's really funny being petty."

Loki let's it go as he chuckles himself, "Speaking of being petty, where's our next photoshoot? I'm sure they enjoyed seeing our last in the mountains."

You laugh more freely now as you bring your attention back to the game, pushing aside the more troublesome thoughts, "I heard Tony owns a private beach house. I'm sure he wouldn't mind us dropping by for a couple pictures."

[cherryblossms]

"he's probably predisposed to not like me because of your feelings for me. knowing the person you like likes somebody else, lots of jealousy rises there." something garam knew from experience, what's stopped him from being friends with a lot of his past partners' friends. even though he, himself, held jealousy towards darius and angel's relationship, he was going to try his best not to let that show anymore. "i mean, i wouldn't like it very much if the person i liked had feelings for somebody else." he was sure angel understood given the situation he'd been in for who knows how long. using how he currently felt as experience, his own jealousy arising at the idea of somebody taking angel away from him, it only made him feel more guilty for essentially putting angel in the place he had his entire relationship, at the very least, with axel. garam felt very foolish, though. there wasn't anything to worry about, really, as angel was already distancing himself from darius. he was nervous and acted out for nothing, for the time being anyways. he didn't know when angel would speak to the other man but he also wasn't about to ask as he didn't want to put any sort of pressure on angel into having that talk with darius. he'd just have to live with knowing that angel wouldn't be spending that time alone with him. "but no rush on that talk happening." his tone nonchalant to subtly further express his distaste for darius. while garam did want to know more about angel's other friends and possibly find friendship in them as well, getting all close and personal with darius wasn't very high on his list of things he truly wanted. the root of why he wanted to know darius better was because of the whole know thy enemies thing. "as much as i'd like to get know him, i much prefer having you all to myself." he was being selfish, he knew that but he didn't care much since angel was willingly putting space between himself and his friend. when angel brought up their little pizza date, though he was cautious after what happened when they tried this last time, garam slowly began to smile. he really did want to make that pizza with angel, he wanted to prepare a meal with him, he wanted to enjoy something prepared for him by somebody he sought interest in. "i would really like it if we made pizzas." garam spoke slowly, his tone hushed as if he thought it would hide his excitement but his smile, the way his eyes lit up, how both his cheeks and his ears started to blush, they all betrayed him. "i promise i'll be on my best behavior so we don't end up arguing beyond what to put on top or how many slices we get to have." garam tried to make light of the situation, to show he was trying to move past what they fought about before, to show his interest in this little pizza date. "oh," garam stopped suddenly, turning quickly to face angel, "when do you have to work next? you shouldn't avoid working because of anybody, don't let anybody stop you from living your life as normal." the true reason behind his questioning was because he wanted to be prepared for when he had to be alone in angel's apartment. if he knew when the time was going to come, he could prepare himself for both the momentary solitude and for an escape route if axel decided to show up again. he could possibly invite a friend over, or he could use that time to get his computer set up sorted out and running. he'd also have to figure out what to do for meals. garam couldn't help but smile more at the thought of preparing a meal for angel to come home to.

Angel felt the tightness in his chest loosened when Garam looped his arm through his. That small, simple touch melted away some lingering worries from earlier — the tears, the uncertainty, the way Garam had looked at him like Angel was something distant and unattainable. Angel didn’t want that. He wanted to be here, real and reachable and his. The way Garam asked about Darius made Angel’s heart tug in an entirely different way. Garam wasn’t trying to start something; Angel could hear the careful effort in his voice, the way he shaped the question to be warm, and inviting. It was clumsy, but in a way that made Angel's chest ache with affection. Garam wanted to try — for him. Angel squeezed Garam’s arm gently, leaning in closer as they moved through the store, the weight of the shopping bags barely noticeable compared to the lightness he felt inside. “Usually we just hang out and watch dumb movies,” Angel said, smiling. “Sometimes we go thrift shopping, or he’ll drag me to some weird new cafe he found online. He’s... I dunno, he’s got a good heart, even if he acts all tough and sarcastic.” He chuckled, glancing sideways at Garam, his eyes soft. “I think you guys could get along, honestly. He’s just... you gotta catch him at the right time, you know?… He was there for me that night. He’s always sort of been there since we started working together. Especially when I didn't want to drink alone. Ah, that's another thing he as drink like a fish. Never accept a drinking challenge from him. Geez I've learned the hard way too many times” Angel slowed them down a little, pretending to look at a display of keychains just so he could take a second to breathe at this moment. Garam — with his messy armful of clothes, the little gap where his shirt hung open exposing a teasing sliver of skin, the way he was looking at Angel like he wanted to be better, to be good — it almost overwhelmed him. Angel knew Garam was carrying things he hadn’t said yet. Secrets. Fears. Maybe even guilt. He could feel it pressing against the edges of their time together, the way Garam sometimes looked at him like he didn’t deserve to stay. But Angel also knew what it meant for someone like Garam to be trying at all. “We’ll invite him over sometime, right now I've been avoiding him since yesterday. Changed a couple of shifts. He needs to feel my absence for a while” Angel said warmly, tugging Garam a little closer. “Maybe for a movie night or something after him and I talk. No pressure.” He wanted to make it easy for Garam to stay. Wanted him to feel like he could stay. Darius was a great friend and he would hate to lose him. But he was also aware of how the man talked about and treated Garam. Which wasn't right. Angel caught the slight shift in Garam’s body — the tension that hadn’t quite disappeared — and he wondered, briefly, what was weighing on him so heavily. He decided not to push. Garam would tell him when he was ready. Angel would just... be here when that moment came. “You are so cute, you know that?” Angel murmured, almost too quiet to hear over the noise of the store. He meant it. Every word. He leaned down pressing a gentle kiss to the side of the man’s head as they finished the transaction and headed to the next store. “I have some spare toiletries at the house. Let's grab this camera and head home. We've had an eventful day…I’m pleased you bought the sweater. Baby you have no idea how good you looked in it.” he did his best to lighten their mood, wanting to turn their back around. They were about to go at it in the dressing room, and now Angel could feel the distance between them. “Do you have an idea for dinner? We never did get to those pizzas. Should we give it another go?”

[ladykailitha]

Heist AU

So I've been thinking about an Italian Job/Leverage-esque with hints of Ocean's 11 vibes.

So hear me out.

Steve is a conman who runs his own team of con artists doing jobs, mostly for profit, but also the occasional 'fuck the rich' type jobs.

The last job he did went bad and half the team quit because of it. So Steve swore to keep things simpler from now on. Just quick smash and grab jobs to keep the coffers from getting too low.

And the half of his team that stayed after the split are in college now, so it's just him and Robin anyway.

Then his grandmother dies. In her will she left Steve all her jewelry because she didn't want let her daughter get her hands on it. As some of the pieces are worth several million.

But all the jewelry vanished before the funeral and he knows it was his parents but he can't prove it.

Then his contact at the British Museum, Chrissy Cunningham, informs him that one of the pieces has shown up on display by an 'anonymous donor'. It's going to be part of a collection being 'loaned' to the museum.

Robin and Steve start plotting out how to get it back with just the two of them when the unthinkable happens. He gets word from his contact that they are moving the collection into storage for god knows how long at the end of the week and now they six days to pull off the biggest heist of their lives.

They bring in duo Jonathan and Nancy to replace Steve as the face (he doesn't want to be near it in case his parents are in town) and Lucas as their hitter. Lucas being part of the two that went to college.

But they need a techie and fast. Dustin is at MIT and can't risk getting caught and losing his scholarship.

"There's only one person better than Dustin," Robin says sliding up to him.

"No." Steve refuses to even engage with the idea.

"What choice have you got?" she reminds him.

"He'll say no," Steve insists.

"Not to me," she assures him. "Not about this."

Steve wants to believe her so he lets her try. All while trying to find a backup because he's sure Eddie will say no.

~

Eddie walks into his apartment and sighs. "How the fuck do you do that?" he curses. "And you better have not drank all my beer!"

Robin cocks her head to the side. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you. And of course I have touched your beer, I have taste."

Eddie chuckles pulling out a can of poor man's beer and popping it open.

"What can I say, it reminds me of home."

"We need your help on a job," she says coolly.

"Steve going to be involved?" he asks and flops on the sofa across from the chair was waiting for him in.

"Well, I wouldn't work with anyone else, soo..." she half shrugs.

"Then fuck off with whatever you have in mind," Eddie snarls. "I ain't going to be his bitch again."

"Jeff forgave him," she said, leaning on her knees. "Why can't you?"

"Jeff's a grown ass adult and can do whatever the fuck he wants," he snaps, sitting up. "But if it wasn't Steve's arrogance and sheer bullheadedness Jeff wouldn't have been anywhere near the bomb when it went off. He could have died, Robin!"

"And he hasn't done a job like it since," she bites back. "I know you're pissed. You have every right to be. But he doesn't want your help. He needs you help. This time it's personal."

Eddie sips the beer and scoffs. "How's that?"

So Robin tells him. "You're the only one capable of getting into the British Museum's security and you know it."

Eddie sighs and settles back into the cushions of the sofa. "All right, I'll do it but only because I've been itching to knock over that place for years and this as good an excuse as any."

~

But when the team gets together, Eddie is insanely jealous of Nancy as she appears to flirt with Steve and Robin starts to suspect something more going on.

She walks up to Steve while he's have a cigarette. "Tell me this job isn't about getting Eddie back as your boyfriend."

"It's not about that!"

She raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, it's not just about that," he amends. "I wasn't even sure he'd agree for starters, but yeah, if I can use this to get him back, to show him I've changed, I'd be a fool not to try. But mostly this is about my grandmother and her jewelry and how she wanted me to have them, not to be stuck in some vault never to be seen again."

~

The plan goes off, they get the jewelry and Steve gives each of them a piece as thank you.

For Eddie he picks out his grandfather's wedding band, a simple band of platinum and gold, with an engraving that says 'to my dearest love' on the inside.

"Steve..." Eddie whines. "You can't give this to me."

Steve shakes his head. "It was always going to be yours. I was going to propose after that heist."

Eddie looks up from the ring. "Oh Steve..."

"This isn't me begging for you to take me back," he pauses and cocks his head to the side, "though I absolutely would if I thought it would work. This is just me giving you something that I always intended to belong to you."

They kiss and make up.

And if they plan a heist around their wedding, with both teams in tow, well, that's just how they say 'I love you'.

[buckybabesonly]

Only Kinda Sorta Hate You

Summary: Your professor asks you to tutor another student for extra credit, and you end up with Bucky, who you hate. Kinda.

Pairing: College!Bucky x College!Female!reader

Genre: Romance, dash of angst

Word count: 5.8k

A/N: I've not written anything in almost a year, but I watched Thunderbolts* recently and it reignited something. I dug this out of my drafts - I am a big fan of 90's rom-coms like She's All That, 10 Things I Hate About You etc.. so just wanted to write something cheesy and sweet

I'm at the library, where are you?

Hello?

chill. i'm on my way

You sighed, tapping your foot impatiently on the carpet, arms folded across your chest. The audacity of this man to keep you waiting whilst you sacrificed your precious time to tutor him. Bucky Barnes, the most ungrateful person you'd ever encountered.

A huff of air escaped from your mouth when you finally spotted his figure in the distance, sunglasses hiding his eyes and a cap shoved on top of his long, messy brown hair. So obnoxious, you thought to yourself.

You almost sighed aloud in frustration when you saw him stop to smile and talk to a pretty blond girl who had been browsing the library shelves, her face flooding pink at the sheer excitement of catching the attention of the college's infamous football captain.

As if Bucky could hear your mental cursing, he waved his fingers at the girl and continued on. Everything about him radiated confidence, from the way he held himself to his purposeful stride. When he got closer, he whipped his shades off and tucked them into the front pocket of his t-shirt, but the hat stayed on.

"Alright, I'm ready. Tutor me," he said, cracking a smile as you glowered at him.

"Follow me," you said sternly, turning on your heel and marching towards one of the study rooms that you had reserved.

He followed closely, humming a tune as you muttered under your breath. If it wasn't for the promised extra credit from your math professor, you swore you would never subject yourself to spending time with him. Not that you exactly ran in the same circles, anyway. In fact, before two weeks ago, you weren't even sure Bucky was aware of your existence.

As soon as you were both seated and you'd spread out your materials - textbooks, calculators, stationery, and a whiteboard - Bucky leaned back in his chair and studied your face.

"You don't like me very much, do you?" he asked finally.

You cracked a wry smile at that. "You don't miss a thing, do you?"

"What have I done?" he asked innocently, clearly fighting back a smile. He seemed to enjoy how easily he irritated you.

"Let's see. You're always late, you don't respect my time, you never take this tutoring seriously - "

"Woah," he interrupted. "It's only been a couple of weeks, cut me some slack. I'll do better, I promise." He cleared his throat and took off the cap, running his fingers through his hair. He was enjoying this.

You took a deep breath and pinned on the most artificial smile you could muster. You could be cordial... you think.

It was going to be a long semester.

Are we still good for this afternoon?

can't sorry. football practice

"See!" you exclaimed indignantly, shoving your phone into Wanda's face. "See how blasé he is about his education?"

Wanda shrugged, plaiting her silky red hair. "He did get in on a football scholarship, to be fair."

"But he's flunking math," you retorted. "And Professor Wilson asked me to tutor him. If he fails the next exam, that's going to reflect badly on me."

You, Wanda and Yelena had been in the middle of lunch in the dining hall when you had decided to check in on Bucky, seeing as he had proven to be extremely flaky so far. It frustrated you to no end.

"Are you mad that he's going to do bad in the exam, or did you just want to spend time with him?" Yelena asked with a mischievous smile, knowing fully how much that would set you off.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, c'mon," Wanda chimed in, quickly catching on. "He's cute, he's funny, who wouldn't want to spend hours inside a small study room with him?"

"Okay, if you guys even think for a second that I'd be interested in Bucky Barnes-"

"Okay, okay," Yelena said quickly, raising her hands in surrender. "God, it is so easy to get under your skin."

"Just a few more months of this, and it will be over," you said under your breath like a prayer.

"Here."

A coffee cup was unceremoniously placed in front of you the second Bucky Barnes stepped into the room. You could hear the liquid sloshing about as you stared up at him.

The first thought that reached your head, annoyingly, was how good he looked today. He was wearing a white vest beneath an unbuttoned blue linen shirt, the color complimenting his bright eyes.

"What's this?"

"I thought you were smart," Bucky quipped, smirking. "Coffee. Oat mocha. To apologize for blowing you off last time."

"Uh - thanks," you said, taken aback at the gesture. Your brows furrowed. Oat mocha. How did he know?

"You had that last time we met up, so I went with it," he said, as if he could read your thoughts.

"Right. Thanks," you said, almost stumbling over your words. He had totally caught you off guard.

No, you scolded yourself mentally. You would not let yourself become one of those simpering girls that fawned over his feet. You would be civil, sure, but don't you dare start staring at his tousled hair and think about how soft the strands would feel between your fingers -

"So, what we learning today?" Bucky cracked his knuckles, interrupting your thoughts. Thank God.

"You know, I don't know much about you," Bucky said suddenly one evening.

"What does that have to do with calculus?" you asked dryly.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Can you relax a bit? Would it kill you to talk about something other than math?"

"Fine," you said, surrendering. Even you had to admit that you were getting bored with talking math. "What do you want to know?"

"Favorite movie?"

You raised an eyebrow. Seriously?

"10 Things I Hate About You. Next."

Bucky burst out laughing, the noise rippling through the room. The blood rushed to your cheeks.

"Sorry, sorry - I'm not laughing at you."

"Oh, is there somebody else in the room I can't see?" You were defensive at Bucky cracking up at your movie choice. "I like corny rom-coms, okay?"

"Okay, okay," Bucky said, tapping his pen on his notepad with a grin. "I've never watched it, but okay, I'm sure it's a great cinematic masterpiece."

"What's your favorite movie?" you shot back.

"Oldboy," he said quickly. "The original Korean version, not the terrible American remake."

That was a pretty good movie, you thought internally before Bucky was firing off the next question.

"Cats or dogs?"

"Dogs," you answered easily.

Bucky pulled a face.

"Oh, c'mon. Dogs are so much better than cats!" you exclaimed.

"No way. Cats are self-sufficient, independent. Dogs are too...clingy," he settled on the word like it was worst thing in the world.

You rolled your eyes, fighting the small smile threatening to spread on your lips. You hated to admit that you were actually growing to enjoy his company.

"Okay, enough of this - back to calculus," you said, trying to sound stern.

Later that night, as you were lying in bed, you suddenly received a text.

just watched your favorite movie

You blinked at the screen, surprised at the unexpected message. You hesitated before sending a casual response.

And? What did you think?

Twenty seconds passed.

not the worst movie in the world, i guess

This time, you really couldn't stop the smile that blossomed on your face.

You guess it could be said that you and Bucky had reached a truce. Not that he even knew you were waging an unfair prejudice against him from the start - you admitted to yourself that you had misjudged him. He wasn't so bad, and he was no longer flaking on you as often for your tutoring sessions.

One evening, as you both prepared to leave the library and go back to your respective dorms, you were surprised by a sudden onslaught of rain.

"Freak storm," Bucky commented as you both stood in the open doorway, unwilling to step out into the icy rain first.

"Great," you groaned. You were hungry and wanted to go get some food, but you had forgotten your umbrella and you really did not want to catch a cold this close to exam season.

In your peripheral, you could see Bucky start to peel off his leather jacket. You turned to him, perplexed as he thrust it into your arms.

"Here. Use this," he said simply. "See you tomorrow." He all but dove into the rain, the water pelting him immediately and soaking his hair and clothes.

You watched him sprint off across the quad, trying not to notice how his t-shirt was beginning to cling to his back. You clutched his jacket in your fingers, oddly touched.

"Snap out of it," you told yourself sternly even as your chest began to feel the warmth of something not totally unfamiliar. You held the jacket over your head as a shield and quickly ran out of the library and towards your dorm, trying to ignore the fondness that was growing inside you.

The next day, you returned his jacket, thanking him for it bashfully.

"It smells like you," he said suddenly. You looked at him in time to see him swallow and shrug, like he was embarrassed he said anything.

Do I smell bad? you thought, suddenly paranoid.

"Sorry?" you said awkwardly.

Later that evening, your phone buzzed with a text.

smells like vanilla

Slowly but surely, your tutoring sessions with Bucky were turning into less studying, more chatting. You had both developed a little habit of bringing your favorite snacks for the other to try, and had started to rank them on a virtual leader board on Bucky's phone.

"All right, what do we have today?" Bucky grinned as you walked into the room, tipping the bag of goodies onto the table.

"I'm definitely taking the lead with this one," you said triumphantly. "My homemade chocolate chip cookies."

Bucky snorted, trying to suppress his smile. He picked up one of the individually packaged cookies that you had lovingly placed into it's own cellophane pouch. He couldn't deny that this was extremely endearing.

"Aw, c'mon. Chocolate chip cookies? Basic," he smiled as he rushed to unwrap one of them.

"They are the best," you said confidently. "Nothing wrong with keeping it simple."

You watched as he ate half of the cookie in a single bite, eyebrows raising as he chewed. He leaned back in his chair.

"Okay. Damn, that is good."

You laughed, pulling out your textbooks and settling down opposite him.

"You like to bake?"

"Mm-hm," you nodded. "When I can. It's my love language"

You realized what you had said a beat too late, your eyes widening and cheeks flushing.

"I mean - I like baking for my friends and family," you spluttered, trying to play it down.

Bucky didn't seem phased, raising an eyebrow.

"I must be pretty damn special then."

You were in trouble. Big, big trouble.

You weren't stupid or ignorant to your own feelings. You knew exactly how Bucky made you feel whenever you were in the same room together. You knew how your heart skipped a beat when your phone lit up with a text from him. You knew how your skin tingled whenever he stepped close to you, arms brushing against each other as he worked over yet another math problem.

You knew how much harder it was becoming to not get distracted by the intensity on his face sometimes, how pieces of his thick brown hair sometimes fell in front of his eyes. You fingers itched to sweep them back.

Oh god. It was such a cliche. You had totally fallen head over heels for him.

"How did I not see this coming?" you groaned into your pillow as you lay back on your bed, Yelena and Wanda observing your distress for 'emotional support', as they had put it.

"What's the big deal? You like him, so what?" Yelena asked, tossing popcorn back into her mouth.

"Do you know how it feels to like someone and not be able to do anything about it?"

"So do something about it," Wanda said, tilting her head at you. "Just tell him how you feel."

"No, because then he'll reject me, and then it'll be super awkward between us, and then we'll never speak again," you rambled. You could see it now. The awkwardness on Bucky's face as you confessed to him, as many girls had done so before.

Women fawned over him. Why would you be any different in his eyes?

But were they right? Should you just bite the bullet and tell him how you felt? What if maybe - just maybe - there was a chance he felt the same way?

Sometimes you felt like he might. Whenever he flirted with you, or paid you a compliment. But then again, he flirted with everybody - every ounce of him oozed with charisma. It was just in his nature to easily charm people.

But there were other moments, too. The way he carried your books when he could tell they were too heavy. The way he never, ever forgot to bring you a coffee and a sweet treat, too. The way he looked at you sometimes when you were explaining the solution to a math problem, like he was just focused on your face and wasn't even listening to your words.

If you lived in a rom-com, this would be exactly how things were supposed to pan out. Awkward girl falls for popular guy, and is shocked when he returns her feelings.

Except, well, this wasn't a rom-com. Bucky Barnes was most definitely out of your league.

You and Bucky were having lunch together out on the quad, taking advantage of the beautiful May weather. It was an impromptu picnic after a study session - the sun was shining hard and Bucky's football practice had been cancelled. He had bought sandwiches for the both of you and suggested eating them at the foot of one of the huge trees that dotted the grounds.

You were still battling your indecision about telling him how you felt, but for now, you'd just enjoy his company. He looked so handsome today, sunglasses perched on his face as he tilted his head up toward the sky, a soft smile on his lips.

Your phone rang suddenly, knocking you out of your reverie. It was a new friend you had made recently during a beginners' sparring class that Yelena had dragged you to.

"Hey, Cam," you said lightly.

"Hey!" she exclaimed brightly on the other end of the phone. "What are you and Yelena doing tonight? You wanna come hang out with me and my roommates for dinner?"

"Sure, what time?" you responded eagerly.

She told you the details and when you hung up, Bucky was staring at you curiously.

"Got asked to dinner," you said, shrugging.

"Oh," Bucky said, face neutral.

"Made a new friend recently - Cam. Been spending so much time together which has been so fun, actually," you hummed, taking a bite of your sandwich.

"Right."

A few moments of silence passed in which Bucky said nothing, which was completely uncharacteristic of him.

"You okay?" you asked finally.

He cleared his throat, finishing off his sandwich in a few large bites. He stood up suddenly, patting his shirt down to brush off any food crumbs.

"Yeah. Hey, I just remembered - I promised Steve I'd go to the gym with him this afternoon."

"Oh, sure," you said, thrown off by the sudden change in his attitude. "Have fun.”

"Thanks. I'll see you around, yeah?"

You barely had time to respond before he had turned his back to you and was walking away, without giving you so much as a second glance.

Bucky called you out of the blue whilst you were having breakfast. You felt embarrassed to take the call in front of Wanda and Yelena, but it was too late - Yelena had seen his name flash up and quickly swiped the answer button, shoving the phone up to your ear.

"Hello?" you said as you glared at her. Yelena shoved a piece of toast into her mouth with a grin.

"Hey. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we can't hang out today," Bucky said on the other end.

"I'm tutoring you, we're not hanging out," you reprimanded, still wishing he'd take it a bit more seriously. "And why is that?"

"I have a date."

Despite yourself, you felt your face fall. Wanda cocked her head at you, curious.

"Oh. Great," you said flatly. "Okay." The disappointment that grew in your chest was truly unexpected and painful.

"I'll text you later to reschedule, yeah?"

"Whatever," you said shortly, trying to ignore the acidic feeling in your chest. "Bye." You hung up abruptly, slamming your phone a little too hard onto the table.

"What was that all about?" Yelena asked.

"Nothing," you muttered.

"Didn't sound like nothing," Wanda said, raising an eyebrow.

"He was just calling to cancel our tutoring session for a date."

Wanda and Yelena exchanged pointed glances.

"What?" you snapped.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," you said tersely.

You couldn't even convince yourself.

You felt like Bucky was starting to avoid you.

No, not avoid - you weren't important enough to him for that. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with all these dates with whatever girl he was now seeing.

It started with excuses about football practice. And then football related injuries which meant he just wanted to rest. Then -

just not feeling it today. will let you know when i'm free to reschedule

You didn't even reply to that one. If he didn't want to reach out first, then you weren't going to beg him to let you tutor him.

It stung when he eventually stopped texting, though.

Since you started tutoring him three months ago, you had begun messaging more and more, until eventually it was basically an everyday occurrence. To go from that to basically zero was extremely jarring.

It hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

The feelings grew and grew and reached a crescendo when one evening, after a whole fortnight of zero texts from Bucky and no word of when he wanted to see you again, you bumped into him and his friend outside one of the campus coffee shops. You had been on your way to your morning lectures, and when you spotted his face, you had briefly deliberated ignoring him and continuing to walk. Despite yourself, you found yourself stopping awkwardly, giving him a smile. Even if you felt uncomfortable, you had truly missed him and the sound of his voice.

"Hey Bucky.” You greeted him, trying to keep your tone light and non-accusatory. What you really wanted to say was, why the hell have you not reached out in so long?

You thought you were friends. You really thought he liked being in your company.

"Hey," he said as his friend smiled at you. He introduced you quickly to Steve, who shook your hand like a gentleman.

"How are you doing?" Steve asked politely. You had heard so much from Bucky about his best friend, but this was the first time you had met him in person. Figures, considering he clearly didn't consider you as a friend - why on earth would he have introduced you to his before now?

"She's the girl who's been tutoring me," Bucky said slowly, almost deliberately avoiding eye contact with me, looking down at his to-go cup instead.

You decided to swallow your pride and be more direct.

"Yeah - when are we next doing that, anyway?" You tried to force a smile, to not sound too desperate.

He paused, finally meeting your eyes.

"I actually think I've had enough of the tutoring for now," he said firmly. "I think I need to focus on my football and other stuff."

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air. You knew exactly what he meant. By other stuff, he just meant other girls. He was dating someone now, that much you were sure of, and that meant he simply didn't have time for people like you.

And you really thought…

The pain of rejection rushed through you. It was humiliating, how upsetting it was, how you physically had to take a step back. He probably felt cornered by you, approaching him like this and asking when you’d next meet - you felt embarrassed.

"Right," you said, trying not to let the emotion show on your face. "Okay, sure. See you around, Bucky."

Bucky's lips parted slightly at your torn expression, like he wanted to say something. Rather than give him the chance, you nodded a curt goodbye and hurriedly walked away, wanting to put as much distance between yourselves as possible.

Her name was Sharon.

That was the name of the girl that Bucky had been seeing. You noticed it more and more now, suddenly seeing him, her and Steve everywhere around campus, the most good looking trio of people you had ever seen.

You saw them the moment you stepped into the main campus hall that had been decked out for the summer Golden Hour Gala, a dance that they held every year on the final afternoon before semester officially ended. It was a nice chance to dress up, dance with your friends and have a blast before the students went home for summer.

That was how you ended up here in a midi-floral dress, cream in color and adorned with tiny pink flowers. You had felt pretty cute, but didn't look anywhere near as gorgeous as Sharon did.

Her hair was long and silky, falling down her back like a sheet of gold. She was wearing a long, lilac dress that complimented her figure perfectly.

You had barely wanted to go to this glorified garden party to begin with, but now you were really regretting being here. Especially with how good Bucky looked, casual but sophisticated in a blue shirt and beige chinos, the sun shining directly in his face and making him squint adorably.

You blamed Yelena for pouring you glass after glass of spiked punch, telling you it would cheer you up.

"It's the Russian way!" she screamed delightfully as she tried to coax you and Wanda out on the dance floor.

As the hours passed, you felt yourself growing more and more emboldened. For the past few days, you’d forced yourself to distract yourself from thoughts of Bucky - but here, with him just a mere few feet away and the alcohol breaking down your inhibitions, you felt yourself stewing.

Call it liquid courage, but you felt a renewed confidence (or stupidity, maybe?) when you found yourself marching towards Bucky, who was sitting by himself for the first time that day. Finally, Sharon and Steve weren't flanking him, which made him more approachable as you plopped yourself down onto the seat next to him.

He spoke your name with surprise, like he wasn't expecting to see you. Of course, you had practically turned invisible to him by now.

"Hi," you said, trying to figure out if your speech was slurred or not. You hadn't drank that much, had you? No - you just wanted to know right there and then what his problem was with you.

"Long time no see," he said, his eyes flicking up and down you to appraise your outfit. Hang on - was he checking you out? In your current state of mind, you truly entertained the thought.

"You," you said, punctuating your point with a finger to his chest, "have been avoiding me."

Bucky started at the physical contact, his hand reaching up reflexively to wrap gently around your wrist. You pulled away like you had been shocked with electricity.

"Are you drunk?" he asked, forehead creasing. The teasing smile that you missed oh so much was playing on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Shit.

"Pfft. No," you said unconvincingly. "I just want to know what your problem is." You paused, unable to stop your voice from wavering. "I thought we were friends."

The expression in Bucky's eyes was almost unreadable, but for a second you thought he looked remorseful. He seemed to pick up on how genuinely upset you were.

"We were - we are," he corrected himself.

"Then why the hell have you not texted me or called me in almost a month?" you cried, fully aware of how desperate you sounded now. But you didn't care - the alcohol did a good at shooing the shame away. You wanted answers. You deserved a proper explanation.

Bucky looked torn.

"Did you ever like me?" you asked quietly. You weren’t sure if he heard.

All of a sudden, you caught a flash of blonde hair in the corner of your eye. You thought it was Sharon, but - thankfully - it was only Yelena, red in the face and totally unstable on her feet.

"What are you doing?" she shouted, totally oblivious to who you were speaking to. She grabbed your hand, trying to pull you up. "C'mon, Cam wants to dance with you."

Bucky straightened his back, the soft look in his eyes dissipating and settling into something colder.

He leaned away from you - you weren't even aware that you were almost touching - and stood up.

"You should go be with your friends,” he said stoically. “Enjoy the rest of your night.” He gave you one last look you just couldn’t decipher before he walked away.

Your heart ached.

Summer break was long and tough. It was arguably the much needed time away from college that you needed to nurse your heartbreak, but if anything, it just made you yearn for Bucky more.

You missed him.

You replayed the events of the last few months in your head over and over again. Where exactly had you gone wrong? What had made Bucky cut you out of his life like that?

Was the whole friendship just a lie?

Even if he didn't return your feelings, or if he was dating Sharon - surely that didn't mean he couldn't be friends with you?

Maybe this whole time you had simply severely overestimated your importance to him.

When the new academic year started, you did your best to avoid him totally. You spent most of your time either in your room, or at the library. Even the latter was bringing up unsavory feelings - the two of you had spent too much time there together, and everything reminded you of him.

You hated feeling this way.

You needed to admit to yourself that this wasn't just a crush you were getting over.

You had fallen in love.

The feeling in your chest, the way your heart constricted at the thought of him, the way his lack of attention tortured you - it was undeniable. You missed having him in your life, you missed your idle daily conversations and simply being in his presence.

You had never fallen in love before. You weren't sure you knew how to get over him.

One thing was for sure - unrequited love was a bitch.

Being emotionally devastated definitely showed in physical ways, too. You weren't getting much sleep, tossing and turning at night plagued with thoughts of Bucky. You weren't eating very well, skipping meals and avoiding spending time with your friends so as to evade having to talk about your feelings.

But, alas, you couldn't ignore the problem forever. You were trudging across campus from one lecture to the next, looking down at your feet. You barely registered your name being called until it came accompanied by a hand waving in front of your face.

And there he was. Of course he looked as good as ever, skin slightly more tanned over summer. He had cut his hair, and it suited him this way as much as it did long, looking totally and utterly gorgeous.

Bucky seemed taken aback at your appearance. You wondered how tired and weary you must've looked.

"Hey. Are you okay?" he asked, a concerned lilt in his voice.

"I'm fine," you lied, taken aback at how his sudden appearance was affecting you. You hadn't had time to brace yourself for it - the object of all your affections and the subject of your every day thought was standing right in front you, whilst you felt and looked like an absolute mess. It was so unfair.

You were horrified when you felt your eyes sting and the corners of your mouth start to tremble.

Oh my god. Do not cry. Do not cry.

"You're not okay," Bucky said suddenly, planting both hands on your shoulders and steering you several feet to the right, to a small alcove near the exterior of the closest building, away from the traffic of the footpath.

"I need to get to class," you blubbered, wanting to get away from him as soon as possible before the tears fell.

Bucky was firm as he shook his head.

"You're upset, and I want to know why," he said resolutely.

"Why do you care?" you snapped suddenly. Bucky was looking blurry in your vision - your eyes were filling with tears. Fuck. This is so embarrassing.

"Because you're crying," he said gently, his eyes staring into yours.

"No I'm not," you said as the first tear fell. You wiped it away, mortified.

"Okay, now you're crying," he said, trying to hold your gaze. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

"Why do you care?" you repeated. "We're not friends - you were very clear about that."

Bucky looked speechless for a second, hands planted on his hips. He reached one out to you, like he wanted to touch you, before thinking better of it and letting it fall to his side.

The way he was looking at you made you feel so damn pitiful. All too suddenly and all at once, the dam broke and the tears were flowing. You were just so sad, and you wished for nothing more that he would be in your life again.

"You made me think that you cared," you sobbed. "I really thought we were friends. Then you just pushed me away like I was nothing, a nobody. Stopped talking to me without any explanation."

Bucky looked sincerely sorry now, looking distressed by your tears. "Please, sweets, don't cry," he said softly.

The affection and tenderness took you aback, only making you cry harder. He was messing with your feelings so much, and you had had enough.

"I really liked you," you spluttered through your tears. To hell with it. You'd already embarrassed yourself enough. “I love you, Bucky. I fell in love with you for the first time ever, and you broke my heart."

Bucky's face dropped as you dug the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to will the tears to stop.

"You love me?"

You choked through your sobs. "I know you don't feel the same, but -"

"What about your boyfriend?" he interrupted, looking perplexed.

"What boyfriend?" you shot back with equal confusion, finally meeting his eyes.

"Cam?"

Your mouth dropped, speechless for a second.

"Cam is a girl," you squawked.

Bucky ran his fingers through his hair, eyes widening in realisation. "Oh. Oh."

"Is that what this has all been about?" You were bewildered. "You thought I had a boyfriend so you - you what, you just decided not to be friends with me anymore?"

Bucky stared at you what felt like the longest time, though it could only have been a few seconds.

"I liked you too,” he said finally, stepping closer towards you. “I mean - I love you, too.”

The words were barely above a whisper, but they took your breath away. He was holding your gaze so gently, apologies etched into his face.

"I fell in love with you, and I was this close to telling you how I felt. And when I thought you were seeing a guy - Cam," he cringed, now realizing just how badly he'd misunderstood, "I decided to nip things in the bud before my feelings got worse. I know it was selfish to push you away, but it was the only way I knew how to deal with my feelings.”

Hearing the words fall out of his mouth felt like a dream. Had you both really been so stupid this whole time over a couple of misunderstandings?

"You couldn't have asked me directly about whether or not I had a boyfriend?" You were frustrated now, and still in disbelief at the revelation that Bucky actually returned your feelings.

"You didn't tell me how you felt either," Bucky said defensively, before giving you a sheepish grin. "I guess we both suck a little at communicating?"

You had no words, unsure of what to do next as you stared up at him. You wanted to kiss him, hug him, make up for all the lost time where you had both been stupidly avoiding each other.

"Well - what happens now?" you asked quietly.

He reached out, his hand coming at your waist to pull you towards him. "Well. I've been wanting to kiss you for months," he murmured, looking down at your lips. “So that’s a suggestion.”

His other hand reached out to tilt your chin up, leaning closer and closer. You suddenly shot a hand up to his chest, leaning back before your lips could meet.

"What about Sharon?" You absolutely refused to be the other woman in this scenario, your face falling again at the thought of her.

"What about her?" Bucky asked blankly. He paused as the pieces slot into place. "You know she's dating Steve, right?"

"What?"

"She's not my girlfriend. Never was, never will be," he said clearly. "It's always been you. Only you."

That was all your needed to hear before you closed the distance between you, letting yourself melt into the kiss that you had dreamed of for so long. This man actually loved you back - maybe rom-com endings did exist.

When you both pulled back for air, Bucky kissed your forehead tenderly, his lips soft.

"Actually, there is something I need to confess to," he murmured against your skin.

"What?"

"I purposely started doing poorly in math and asked Professor Wilson to get you to tutor me," he said, giving you an embarrassed smile. "I'm not really bad at math. I'm actually really good at math."

You didn't know what shocked you more - this revelation or the fact that -

"Did you just quote Mean Girls to me?"

Bucky cracked your favorite dimpled smile.

"Only for you, sweets."

[huntingcupid]

CASUAL — D.A.

dumb love, I love being stupid dream of us in a year maybe we'd have an apartment and you'd show me off to your friends at the pier

⌗ DANIELA — fem!reader, angst, swearing, doomed yuri, straight dani, friends to strangers, reader slowly starts to despise dani, regret,self harm, homophobia, religion mentioned, usage of dyke, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — was it all casual?, stolen glances, hugs and kisses, letters and sleepless nights talking to eachother — did it mean anything?

⌗ CUPID — hey.... first very angsty work so yeah, thank you to my dear friend @yunazxxx for helping me with the plot :D

time passed by so fast — suddenly you're in college and searching for part time jobs, yet sometimes you reminisce about your past, the people you have met throughout the journey, one person has changed you for good and bad, the person? — daniela avanzini

your “best friend”, you can't imagine your childhood and teenage years without the latina, without the stupid jokes you two have made, the times you two made decisions you shouldn't have, but it was all worth it as long as she was with you, doing it with you

you've always had a doubt about your sexual identity, especially during times where you and dani would just be hanging out and you'd imagine your future marrying her — it didn't help that you two were inseparable, daniela calls you her wifey, and you felt butterflies in your stomach whenever she did

daniela's mother also treated you like her kid, you often came along with them for family trips, sharing clothes with the girl — during the last few years of highschool you really started having an identity crisis, you didn't know who you were, or what you are

“dani, can I tell you something?” you whisper as you two lay in her bed — daniela looks over at you concern etched onto her features, “anything y/n, why?” she replies, your heart raced, “i-i- I'm queer” you stammer, you closed your eyes afraid of the reaction you might get, yet when you felt the girls arms wrap around you everything felt right and free

“that's good y/n!” daniela cheered, you definitely didn't expect this reaction since daniela came from a very religious family, yet something in you screams that she doesn't fully accept it, the way her eyes seem to look at you felt different

yet against your better judgment you didn't do anything, months passed and it seemed like daniela became distant from you, the daily calls you two had turned into every 2 days or whenever she says she's free, her chats became more generic and had seemed to lose its humor or life

you chat the girl, asking if you can hang out — she replies and agrees, you get excited due to how much you missed the girl, you slept thinking about you two, about what you two might do tomorrow

“hi dani!” you run up to the girl hugging her, daniela froze a bit before returning the hug, a short and cold hug, “hi y/n” she mutters, “let's get some ice cream?” you ask smiling at the girl, “sure” you two walk to the nearest ice cream shop, picking out flavors, daniela loved salted caramel while you loved chocolate, daniela took pictures of her ice cream, you giggle “are you gonna post that?, can you send it to me too?” you follow, “actually it's for josh” your heart sank and for a moment your smile faltered, “josh?” you ask not recognizing the name, “oh he uhm- we are talking you know” she replies hastily, you bit the inside of your cheeks, you wished that you were born a man sometimes maybe then you'd experience her love,

after the ice cream shop you two walk to sit at the park benches watching as the sun set, you took a few candid pics of the latina, she looked gorgeous, something out of a dream, her eyes were like crystals and her smile, god her smile can make you melt at the spot, “i missed you” you mutter as you two sat in silence, “oh” daniela replies — little by little you felt your heart break, “dani, i know i shouldn't say this but, I've liked you since I've known you” you mutter finally letting go of those words, silence — your heartbeat was the only thing you can hear and the soft rustling of the plants, “i-i- don't y/n” daniela replies seemingly uncomfortable, you felt like you got stabbed a million times, your future flashed by your eyes, the dreams you've built around you two now burning down, “I'm sorry i shouldn't have said that” you stutter, blinking away the tears you felt forming in your eyes, “y/n i love you, and god does too, its never too late to get saved” you tear up hearing her words, cause why is it a sin, a sin to love, why did he make you this way — why?

“I'll help you” daniela looks at you hopeful, “sure” you replied even though you felt so betrayed, this is the same girl you came out to, the same girl who helped you come to terms with your sexuality, now telling you that loving is a sin

throughout the first few weeks of college, daniela gave you a bible and even an invitation to her church, claiming that you were under the touch of the demon, you only nodded, all the while daniela would hang out with her friend josh, they'd laugh and share moments like you two did before you came out, it was the breaking point for you when you saw daniela and josh at the janitors closet making out, daniela looked guilty but she quickly got mad at you, “get the fuck out!” it was the first time she ever swore at you, the first time you realized it wasn't worth keeping her around if all she did was hurt you and made your sexuality a joke

yet as you lay in your bed, closing your eyes from exhaustion all you see is her, smiling brightly at you, daniela looking like your savior, her during the times she still felt real and not a projection of the people who hate you, “i love you” you mutter tears falling out of your eyes, you fell deeper into depression when you were lonely and no one was there to help you, to talk to you

you didn't know what else to do but blame yourself, hurt yourself, razors, scissors anything sharp that can take away your mind from her, anything that can make you feel punished for being what you are

you became suicidal, you hated everything, every moment you'd step into the halls of your campus, seeing daniela and josh hand in hand, laughing and kissing — while you?, you can't live in a world where daniela hated you, where she didn't acknowledge who you truly are

“y/n?” you hear your roommate enter the dorm room, seeing you sobbing, “h-hi” you replied wiping away your tears, “are you okay?” manon ask, “yeah, just stressed with work and school” you replied chuckling, knowing its way deeper than that

days passed and you knew you had to pick yourself up, make sure you don't feel like a failure, a worthless living person, — you went to lectures, sleep deprived and wearing long sleeves in attempts to hide your sh scars

daniela looked across the room a flicker of guilt and empathy seeing you, a shell of your former self, she quickly masked it with uninterest and a poker face

yet after class she follows you to the women's restroom, cornering you, “y/n, what has gotten into you, you shouldn't hurt something given to you by-” you cut her off “god?, I'm sorry daniela” you said pushing her off you, she only scoffs and follows you, “what is this about then! just a way to gain my sympathy? cause fuck it y/n it does” she breathes out furious, seeing her ex best-friend slowly die, “what the fuck is this dyke doing here” josh says pushing into the bathroom to collect dani, you bit your lip hurt but you expected it, you chuckled to yourself — as much as it hurts seeing her settle for this man you couldn't do anything, but watch and despise them both

you'd long for the days that daniela magically just go back to you, talk to you and realized how much of a jerk her boyfriend was, how much you could treat her better

at some point the love you had for daniela became hatred, she didn't reach out anymore nor did you, it was radio silent, some nights you'd stare at your last messages with her, and regret not ending it earlier

you regret being blind to all her red flags, you regret putting her feelings before yours, you regret not knowing she was not good for you

now she's just another woman in school, someone you'd pass in the hallways, even though your eyes locked with hers, it didn't mean anything anymore, at least to you it didn't anymore, after all, it was all casual

maybe she was a part of your past, but you refuse to let her ruin your future

wc: 1.3k words

(hate this idk why)

[therealvinelle]

In the twilight universe, do you think there were vampire Neanderthals?

No.

I think it's likely vampires haven't been around all that long in the world of Twilight.

For reference, the oldest vampires we meet in canon is 4500 years old and Neanderthals went extinct 40,000 years ago.

The main arguments against neanderthal vampires:

The population problem One vampire who feeds only when he is hungry will kill one person every fortnight, or 26 people in a year. A vampire who doesn't restrain himself has no reason not to feed more often: as has been discussed on this blog before, without the Volturi there is no need for restraint and the human population would have collapsed. From what we learn from the newborn wars and Jasper's explanation of why they happened, the rule of vampire population expansion is the same as any other organism: they expand until they run out of food and space (as there are no external population controls such as epidemics or natural predators for vampires). In other words, assuming vampires existed since the Neanderthals, and assuming there were no prehistoric Volturi, vampires would risen in numbers until they went the way of the reindeer at St. Matthew's Island. There would not be a Twilight book series.

The lack of evolution (or: why no diversity in vampires?) While 40,000 years is not much in an evolutionary perspective, it is not a blink of an eye either. One of the reasons why I don't think vampires have been around for very long is that, assuming venom is biological, and not a supernatural magic agent that will simply never change, the uniformity with which it behaves implies there is no variation between the venom in Bella or the venom in Aro. Everyone experiences the exact same symptoms of vampirism: the transformation carries the same pain and even duration for everyone, with only individual differences (Bella's being shorter is both explained in-universe and, considering we have detailed information on the transformations of Carlisle, Edward, Rosalie, and Emmett, seems to truly be individual), and vampires are all similar with the same sets of characteristics, strengths, and weaknesses. There are no regional differences from what we learn in canon either. And yes, I do think in 40,000 years there would have been a rise in differences. If a coven finds that vampire A's newborns aren't in as much pain as when vampire B bites a person or the transformation is faster, then vampire A gets to bite humans they wish to keep. Similarly, two vampires raze a village, both leaving behind bitten survivors, one vampire's survivor is in much less pain and able to hide himself until the transformation is complete and the other is not. An even clearer example is that one vampire is better able to control his thirst will successfully create more vampires than the vampire who isn't. For there to be no apparent mutations on a global scale, venom can't have been around that long. (I'll even go ahead and say we're pushing the absolute upper boundary by having vampirekind be several thousand years old, but strict population control having been in effect for over a thousand years does make me a little less snippy about it. Thank you for the service done to nerds, Aro.)

The civilisation and collective history problem In short: however impressive vampires were, they were not numerous enough to impact human history in such a way that we have inexplicable... holes. They did not prevent human civilisations from arising and they did not leave a legacy that could not go away over the centuries. There weren't many of them, and I think the fact that human civilization was able to rise in the first place indicates that civilization predates vampires. Otherwise, humans start gathering in one spot -> vampire is drawn towards hunting grounds -> the humans die or flee -> cities and centralization doesn't happen. Unless there were proto-Volturi, or a natural predator since extinct, humans civilization must have already existed before vampires did.

A few additional thoughts that neither prove nor disprove neanderthal vampires:

The inconclusivity of early history Prehistoric is what we call human history from before recorded history. We know humans existed and made tools and art for tens of thousands of years before the Epic of Gilgamesh was written, but we will never know any of their names nor their history because none of it was recorded. This is what makes them prehistoric. If there were prehistoric vampires and covens, however, then vampires are looking at a very different history of the world. The ancient covens would go back much further than Amun and his lost Egyptian coven. Would Bella necessarily hear about this during the course of the books, no. Further, the Dacians updating their name to become the Romanians, while the Slovakian Tanya, Irina, and Kate become the Denali because they moved to Denali, and the Cullens being the Olympic coven even though their founder and leader is British, means that vampire coven names will come from the contemporary name for their territory. This means that even if the Egyptian coven was actually older than Egyptian civilization, and originated someplace else, convention would indicate that they would still be called the Egyptian coven. Coven names, and known history of covens, does not disprove Neanderthal covens. One can wonder why the earliest vampire conflict brought up in canon is centralized around the Middle East, where the Romanians tried to expand only to meet pushback from the Egyptians. One can wonder the Egyptians were only facing territory dispute from the Romanians or if there were other covens pushing against their borders from other angles, but that wouldn't prove anything either way in terms of these vampires' age.

The lack of predators The shapeshifters of La Push are proof that there is magic in the world of Twilight, and magical humans who, when threatened by vampires, will become able to protect their communities. The fact that they are so unheard that vampires walk around with no fear whatsoever of predators can mean the Volturi (not unlikely, it's hinted at even) or these predators haven't had a chance to become established quite yet. Perhaps this is what the Children of the Moon are, we know very little about them, but we do know they feed on humans and can both kill and be killed by vampires, and they lost the long battle in the long run. They don't seem to me like creatures evolved specifically to kill vampires.

TLDR: I don't believe in neanderthal vampires because there wouldn't be a canon if there had been any. However, we know next to nothing about early vampire history, so while I am inclined to believe Amun was among the first ever vampires they could be older.