#too many tags to put in ALL of the main ones

[j-eryewrites]

Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want This Time

Chapter Seven of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic

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Word Count: ~7.0k

Warnings: Language, mentions of wanting to kill/murder someone, Valentina hate train, mentions of insecurities, I guess still THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS, (let me know if I missed something)

Author's Note: Sorry for the late update. I've been on vacation in DC and Maryland, so I have been busy. But here it finally is. I believe from now on the chapters are going to get a bit longer. I'm trying my best to not write over 10k chapters anymore (we will see how long that lasts). As is mentioned in the tags, this is a slow burn, so I'm sorry folks, it'll be a while until reader and Bob become a thing, BUT I promise we will get a whole lot more interactions with Bob in the upcoming chapters. Anyways, please enjoy!

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You were all better prepared this time, walking into the old Avengers Tower. However, hardly anything remained of your old home. It had been one of many you had lived in, but it was the first. One tends never to forget their first home and the memories that linger in the walls, growing quieter with the years. The bones stayed the same, but the skin and muscle had all been torn out and replaced. Even as you walked in the front doors, there were people patching up and building new drywall. Your brows furrowed at the large white truck. Its siding was unlabelled, almost like a blank canvas waiting to be used for something more. As you approached the front, a team of guys hustled around the truck, seemingly trying to remove it from the building. You couldn’t help but notice some snickers escaping your fellow–well, you guessed you could say it now– teammates. 

“Wow,” Yelena announced from her place in the front of the group. She twirled around, eyeing you all whilst wiggling her brows before stopping at Bucky. A slight grin appeared on her face as her pointer fingers twiddled in the air. It was the kind of smile that was always followed by a joke or a jab at another, and from how she scrunched her nose at Bucky, you figured it had something to do with him. “Nice knowing the door was unlocked this time.” 

Peering over your shoulder, you caught Alexei cheerfully slapping Bucky on the shoulder. Yeah, definitely Bucky.  

“It was great plan, Mr. Winter Soldier.” Alexei’s chest heaved as he let out another chuckle. Everyone besides you and Bob let out another laugh while the two of you tried to piece the inside joke like a puzzle. All the pieces lay before you: a broken wall with an indent that fit the front of the crush truck perfectly, piles of swept-up glass as workers put in new panes, Bullet holes in nearby walls.  Each piece fitted together, snuggling closely inside your mind beside everything you knew about the culprit. 

Despite being great friends with Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes was nothing like your bonus dad/uncle. You still weren’t really sure what familial titles to call the Avengers–your family. They all raised you, each one taking a different spin on the responsibility of caring for you. Bucky was someone who fell under that category. While Steve was the kind of person who’d sit with you on rainy days where you wanted to savour the sound of the water drowning out your thoughts, Bucky was the one you’d crash into when running from the demons in the dark. He listened and understood your struggles with your past, the regrets, the lies, all of it. With his vibranium arm, he’d hold you until you could stand on your own again, all while he shooed the shadows that crept too close to you. While a stable foundation you could find your footing on, Bucky was just as rickety as the rest of you. In a moment's notice, he’d jump out of a moving car, all while avoiding taking a trip to the grocery store because of something embarrassing he said a few weeks ago to an underpaid clerk. As you passed by the struggling workers removing the truck from the building’s entryway, it was apparent Bucky had taken the jump. Instead, the jump was barreling through the front doors.

Bucky rolled his shoulder back, as he tilted his head back and forth like he was adjusting how tightly his head was screwed onto his neck. He tightly nodded to Alexei, shaking off his encouragement, “Thanks. And just call me Barnes.” 

“You got it, Mr. Win–Barnes,” Alexei corrected himself. Clutching the base of his belt, Alexei adjusted his suit to better keep his belly tucked in. He had insisted on wearing his Red Guardian attire despite its soiled state. 

Besides Ava, due to obvious reasons, the others had chosen to wear the fresh clothes you and Bob had picked up for them at the store. It was strange seeing them all out of combat gear. You struggled to find the word for it as you waited for the elevator to arrive in the lobby. Peaceful? You shook your head. You all were anything but peaceful, with how everyone had a permanent scowl or glare plastered on their face. The only ones you could probably say were close to anything peaceful were Bob and Yelena. Although Bob held a befuddled expression, he still did not understand much of anything despite your attempts to explain things to him. Yelena, on the other hand, was smiling, but it was the kind of smile that could turn deadly in the blink of an eye. You were all on edge with the upcoming meeting, so relaxed wasn’t the word. Your eyes lit up. Uncomfortable. 

“Right,” Ava said, eyeing you strangely. It was then that you realized you had said it out loud. “Anyways, what are we planning on doing when we get up there? I still say we should kill her, you know, get it over with and then go on our merry way.” 

Walker’s eyebrows raised as if he pondered the thought before shaking his head, his head tilting slightly. Your brows pinched together, wondering if he always shook his head like a father who only said no because Mom said so. Glancing at the group, you figured the title of ‘Mom’ belonged to Bucky, given how drained he appeared due to all the threats of murder. 

“As I said before,” Bucky exhaled. His mouth was working overtime as he enunciated every word with remarkable clarity. “ We can NOT kill Valentina. We are here to discuss and ONLY THAT.” His eyes met every one of you, lingering a bit longer on the more bloodthirsty of you. 

“Okay, Senator Barnes, way to be a politician,” Walker grumbled under his breath. “A little beating never hurt anyone. See, I turned out just great–” You and Ava snickered.  

“Yes!” Alexei cheered. “Mr. Walker gets it. We can always break a few bones–”

“No breaking bones, no accidental flying knives, no weird energy stuff, or–” He pointed at Yelena. “Your zit-zit thingies.” Yelena groaned, flinging her arms into the air, revealing she had indeed brought her stun bracelets. “Bob–” At the mention of his name, Bob stood a little straighter. His gaze was torn from the popcorn-looking ceiling and onto Bucky. “Just…” But Bucky couldn’t finish his sentence. His face contorted to discover the right words, only to sigh in defeat. “Just don’t do any of what I said.” 

“Yeah, no, got it,” Bob blurted. “No killing. Just talking.” 

The ding of the elevator bell interrupted the conversation, bringing it to a conclusion. The brass doors slid open, revealing a spacious room. One by one, you all filtered in. Once Alexei entered, the room felt a little less spacious. Slowly, the doors closed with a thud. You all stood there for a moment. 

“Why aren’t we moving?” Ava questioned, standing on the tip of her toes to peer over Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Don’t ask me, I’m not near the buttons,” Walker clarified, shifting to lean his back against the cool surface of the elevator walls. 

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you, now did I?” Ava retorted. Walker lifted his head to scoff at her, angering Ava further. 

“Okay, okay, we get it. No one has pressed the buttons yet.” With minimal effort, Yelena jumped into the air. It was just enough height to see over most of the heads. “Bob?” Yelena called out to him. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re in the corner with the buttons.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“So…can you press them, so we can go up?” 

“Uh…W-what floor are we supposed to go to again?” Bob quietly asked. A loud groan left Walker’s mouth. You swiftly elbowed him in the ribs, stifling his complaints. “I forgot.” 

“Uh…It’s floor…” Yelena trailed off. Her green eyes fell on Bucky. 

He felt the stare hit the back of his skull. Sighing, Bucky muttered the floor Valentina had told them to be on. “73.” 

“73, Bob!” Yelena bellowed. 

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“So,��� Valentina cleared her throat, bringing her hands together in a wringing motion. You eyed her tense smile. One you had put on many times before in front of people you’d rather be six feet under than standing in front of you, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and Valentina was desperate. “Can I get you anything to drink? Mel here makes a great cup of coffee.” Mel gave you all a tiny introductory wave before catching Valentina’s glare and slumping back against the wall with her eyes cast down.

“I’ll have coffee. You can never be too awake,” Alexei grinned at Mel, who began to jot down his order.

“What would you like in–”

Leaning forward in your leather conference room seat, you placed your elbows on the table. It was a dark-stained oak with the O.X.E. label plastered on the middle in a blue and gold resin design. Your fists clenched tightly together as your voice lowered. “We’re not here to play nice and chat over drinks, Valentina.” Valentina’s smile dropped, finally expressing the face she had fought off since the moment you all entered the conference room.

It had been one of the only floors safe from the damage caused by the Void incident. After all, a building is not typically built to withstand a helicopter or two falling out of the sky and crashing down onto it. Some of the outer windows had been shattered, letting in a chilly late afternoon breeze. Even in the closed-off conference room, you could still feel the cold. You welcomed it. It kept you alert, and one needed to always be on the tip of their toes with Valentina. 

“Ms. Stark, you surprised me.” Valentina’s dark eyes narrowed on you. “I thought your Father would have raised you with some manners. Or at least common courtesy–” 

You lunged out of your seat. If it weren’t for Bucky hauling you back, you’d have your bare hands around Valentina’s throat. 

“Y/N,” Bucky hissed. Using his vibranium arm, he led you to a chair farther away from Valentina, right across from Bob. “Talk, not kill,” he whispered to you under his breath once you were seated. You let out a huff of air in distaste at being removed from the conversation and placed in a time-out. 

“Valentina,” Bucky cleared his throat. 

“Mr. Barnes, or ah–” She corrected herself. “Senator Barnes, forgive me.” 

Bucky made a tight-lipped smile before continuing. “Bitch,” he muttered quietly, as he took a sharp breath to try and cover the curse. But before he could say anything else, Valentina’s act dropped in the blink of an eye. 

In an exasperated manner, Valentina flung her arms up and gawked at the lot of you as you sent her glares. They were all on a varying wavelength: Alexei was on the lowest end due to him loudly whispering to Mel his coffee order, Walker and Yelena were in the middle of bordering the fine line of talking to and actively planning Valentina’s murder. Ava and you were on the furthest end wanting to strangle the woman, and the desire grew ever more enticing the longer she breathed. All while Bob did not know the spectrum even existed, yet still held some animosity towards the woman. Something deep inside him hurt when he saw her. He wasn’t sure why, but he had a feeling it had to do with what you and the others had gently tried telling him. Bucky was in the 3/4th range: 25 percent wanted to kill, and the other 75 percent wanted to sort this out. There was also an extra 30 percent there for his desire to just call Sam and have his help in figuring this all out. 

“Jesus! What is with you people?” Valentina bleated. Her eyes went wide as they made a round trip around the room. “It’s like you hate me or something.” A flash of nervousness rippled through her dark eyes. She tried to hide how shaky she was getting by drinking some of the water in front of her at the head of the table. You all noticed the signs despite her attempts at concealment. 

“More like we want to kill you,” Ava commented, shifting in her seat to prop her legs up onto the conference table. “But Bucky here wants us to talk and, well, he’s terrifying, so I’m doing my damnedest to listen.” Walker nodded in agreement. When he caught Bucky’s eye he uncomfortably shrugged in response. 

“Wait–” Bucky turned to Ava, his eyes meeting each of yours briefly. “You’re scared of me? Why?” 

Yelena let out a bewildered gasp. “Dude! You’re the Winter Soldier. Who wouldn’t be scared?”

“Not the Winter Soldier anymore,” Bucky clarified.

“Well, you were,” Yelena quipped back. “I’m still reeling from when you blew up our car.”

Alexei let out a sob, thinking about the Red Guardian Limo. “My Limo business,” he somberly mourned. 

“Look,” Bucky sighed. “I said I’m sorry. You were evidence that was trying to run away, and I–”

“Made a tactical decision, I get it.” Walker finished. “Still could’ve driven your motorcycle up to us or, you know, maybe talked it out like you’re wanting us to do now.” 

“Guys–” Bucky tried to defend. 

“I’m sorry, what’s going on?” Bob interjected. 

“Honestly, Bob, that’s such a great question.” Yelena loudly stated, bringing the conversation to a halt. Bob beamed, happy to have been of help. Slowly, his eyes met yours as they flickered with confusion, asking for your help. Quietly, you nodded your head to the seat beside you.  Yelena turned to Valentina, her eyes growing cold. “What are we doing here, Valentina?” 

Finally having the attention back on her, Valentina clasped her hands together. Her rings ground against each other as she tried to calm herself. “Thank you, Yelena.” She cleared her throat, pulling up her most diplomatic voice. “Well–” 

A loud screech came from the end of the table. “S-sorry,” Bob muttered, pulling out his chair. All eyes flashed to him as he made his way around the back of the table to sit next to you. He muttered apologies as he trekked over. It felt like years, with the silence and stares looming over him. “Sorry,” Bob apologized again, finally sitting down beside you as his hands found their way into his lap. He began to fiddle with them with his eyes cast down. 

“You good?” You leaned over, whispering to him. 

Bob’s eyes moved to yours, smiling softly as his hands came to a still. “Yeah, just…” He trailed off, looking at the others as they engaged with Valentina. “I still have no idea what’s going on.” 

“I can try to explain if that helps?” Bob nodded. “You remember the Vault?” 

“Y-yeah, we almost burned alive. I thought that lady was the one who, you know…” Bob gulped. “Wanted to kill us.” 

“Right, well, I’m pretty sure she still does, but now we’re her ticket out of an impeachment trial, so she’s trying to play nice. While we are trying not to get caught up in her schemes and be taken down with her.” You explained. 

Bob’s eyes narrowed as he began to piece things together. “So that’s what you and Bucky were talking about at the restaurant–Good food by the way. I really liked it. Wait–” Bob stopped himself short, his eyes lowering as his next question popped to the surface. “Uh, what’s she being impeached for? I’m sorry, I don’t know–” 

“The director of the CIA.” 

You weren’t sure what Bob was expecting you to say, but it sure wasn’t what came out of your mouth, with how his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “ Jesus, uh, wow. That’s a big one.” 

“Yeah, I know–” 

“No!” Alexei loudly exclaimed, banging his hands against the table. The coffee in his mug was spilling from the sheer force of the pound. “We are the Thunderbolts! Not the ‘New Avengers’.” Yelena groaned into her hand. Her face turned red as Alexei got louder. The disgust in Alexei’s voice at being the “New Avengers” was appallingly apparent. “We are no second-coming of Avengers. My team is the Thunderbolts. ” Then he mumbled under his breath, cursing the name Shane. You couldn’t quite hear it all. 

“Well, it’s a little too late to change the name, seeing as I told the press and all,” Valentina explained. She tensed as Alexei claimed it was his team. “Besides, it’s my team.”

“No. My team. Yelena, tell her.” Alexei demanded. 

“Dad–” Yelena pleaded. 

“Tell her we are Thunderbolts,” He proudly proclaimed, before switching his focus back to Valentina. “Change name back. So simple.”

Valentina let out an annoyed chuckle. “Not simple. No, you’re all the New Avengers, whether you like it or not.”

“I think we’re all forgetting the fact that she tried to kill us,” Walker hissed. Standing up out of his seat, he pointed an accusing finger at Valentina. All of a sudden, it felt like you were in a courtroom, except every one of you was a prosecutor put up against a defendant who was speaking for themselves. 

“Actually, I was having you all kill each other, ” Valentina clarified. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at her poor attempt at an excuse. “Which seems to have worked somewhat since there’s only seven of you instead of eight.” 

Walker froze. The finger that was once pointed at Valentina now faltered down to his side. His jaw clenched tightly at her words. You all did. Ava especially. Her eyes fell to the ground, finding the speckled pattern of the carpet drawing all of her attention. Bucky and Alexei glanced around at you all. Alexei’s eyes softened at Yelena’s somber expression, as a deep frown already etched itself onto her face. When Bucky’s eyes met yours, you couldn’t help but look away. Valentina was right. There was no refuting her words. 

“So what?” Yelena muttered. Her breath was low, and her shoulders were tense. Her eyes slowly drew away from her reflection on the table. “Are we still your shadow ops? Here to do your dirty work but under a new shiny title?” 

Valentina cocked her head to the side, taking in a deep breath. As if it were a reset button, her posture now stood straighter, like a needle about to inject something venomous deep into your veins. “Yes and no.” Her empty glass clinked as it was placed back onto the table. “You’re in this with me now. If I go down, you all do too. There’s nothing people love more than tearing into those who have fallen, and trust me, I’ll make you fall with me.” 

Bob nervously glanced over at you. His glance sparked a similar reaction in others. It was exactly as Bucky had told you earlier. Valentina was a predator who saw her opportunity and took it. You all were trapped, enchained by her side until she fell, dragging you all down with her, or until someone freed you. The weight of Bucky’s words and ideas fell on your shoulders. You shrink under their gaze, not enough for Valentina to see weakness and pounce. No, it was the kind of weight that you could not buckle from. The only place left to go was forward, and so you raised your head to face the viper. 

“Now, the public is already skeptical of you all, and I don’t blame them. I mean, we’ve got Walmart Captain America, a former assassin, a mall Santa, a failure of a senator—” Valentina’s words were intended to cut deep despite the coach-like tone she used when speaking to them. Despite her attempts to weaken you all, they fell on deaf ears. You knew you weren’t perfect. No one who sat at this table was. Covered in the shadows cast by the new name you all bore was enough of a reminder. 

“Alright, we get it, Valentina,” Bucky spat. “Where are you going with all of this?” 

“You’re so lucky you’ve got a cute face, Senator Barnes–and good hair,” Bucky scowled at the disguised insult. “Mel, I’m sure we can get it even better, tell the hair department that–”

“On it,” Mel said, already jotting down the ideas that began to spew from Valentina’s mouth. You wanted to feel bad for the poor woman, but she was just as much a part of this as you were. 

“We’re going to need good PR. Charity events and maybe some interviews with top news stations. We have got to build the image that you, miscreants, can step into the shoes of the old Avengers. Oh god, I won’t even begin to mention sponsors and–”

“Yelena, the Wheaties box!” Alexei cheered, nudging Yelena’s side. It seemed he intended it to be a whisper of sorts, but his voice came out much too loud as if he were a child going through a growth spurt. Whose brain was not realizing that they stood two feet taller than before, misjudging every action and placement. 

“I’m sorry,” Valentina blinked. “What? And what is that ridiculous get-up? We are definitely going to have to change that.” 

Alexei’s face dropped as his eyes narrowed at her. “No change. I am the Red Guardian and–” 

“Let me stop you there, Mr. Red Guardian,” Valentina interjected, brushing over Alexei as she continued to spit out more ways to make each of you into the most delectable mold for the press and people to eat up. The way she discussed wardrobe changes and PR events would put even the best social media influencers to shame. “Mel, make a note to trim up the beard, tidy him up a little…” She paused. “A lot. Hell, all of them. Actually, call the wardrobe and other accompanying departments stat. We’ve got a lot of work to do before–”

“Oh, I feel a headache coming,” Bob mumbled. The stress of it all: the unknown, Valentina’s threats and judgements, and now all this talk of being public and close-ups were making the wrinkles in his forehead more and more prominent. 

“I feel you,” you replied, trying to soothe the divots in your skin that mirrored his. 

“Enough about the hair and…whatever,” Bucky declared. Valentina paused her monologue, clenching her jaw. Sitting straighter, Bucky brought his hands together. He looked very official with how he sat, despite the T-shirt and jeans, and leather Jacket combo he was rocking. You understood now why he was elected by his Brooklyn constituents. While he didn’t have a way with words, Bucky did have a way with connecting with people and getting things done. “We need to talk about how this is going to work. Clearly, you need us, and somehow we need you.” 

A smile flickered onto Valentina’s face. It wasn’t a challenge or one meant to belittle. Instead, it was one of acknowledgement, as if Valentina began to see past the cover and actually read the contents. “You all, this little team you made, is official. And because you are the New Avengers, you need to start acting like them, doing what they did. You will all live in the Watchtower once the renovations are complete. You will attend events and make public appearances. And you will complete missions, save the world, I’m sure you get the gist. You do all that, and I make sure you are provided for. It’s an exchange, you see, I don’t get impeached and criminalized, and you all can have a chance for the clean slate I promised. Sound fair?”

The rest of the meeting flew by. Not because the topics rolled off the tongue spurring on the conversation, but because you chose not to listen for much longer, instead choosing to fiddle with your fingers. You trace their shape, dragging along the creases of your knuckles, which eventually stop. Next, you fumbled with your nails, not once bringing them up to your mouth. It had been a habit you broke long ago, but the urge to nibble now was unbearable. You could feel the nail beds touching your skin, digging into places you hadn’t noticed before. Soon, your focus was brought to the hangnails that peeled away from the original nail. You winced as you scratched at them, an attempt to get it away. It wasn’t until a soft hand squeezed your shoulder that you snapped out of it. 

Looking up, you found Bucky. It took a minute for your mind to load and understand what he was trying to tell you. 

“Y/N?” Bucky muttered your name. His thumb came to rub your shoulder in a circular pattern. It was the same one he always did when trying to comfort you. Clockwise three times, then counterclockwise four times before rubbing up and down to restart the pattern. 

“Huh? Oh yeah, I–sorry, ” you quietly said. You glanced down at the paper in front of you. It was a contract of sorts. One Valentina was having everyone sign. Legally binding, you recalled her saying. She’d do all the things she promised: provide housing and support for you all so long as you did what you agreed to. Scanning the papers, you realized she had pre-signed everything. You scoffed, picking up the pen that laid in front of you. You twirled it around, creating an illusion as if the pen was floating in the air. As your hands mindlessly flipped the pen between your fingers, your eyes lifted from the contract to your team. It seemed they were all reluctant to sign something like this, even though you spent the last two hours, give or take, discussing all the fine details. 

It was air-tight, or at least that is what Val wanted you to believe. You knew there was always some loophole you could find and hold onto, like a get-out-of-jail card. Finding it was the problem, though. While you were smart, you knew little about the legality of things. Picking up the thick paper, you bit your lip and clicked your pen. With a swift motion, a signature now lay on the line. Signed and dated. Mel came around, picking up the contracts one by one. Valentina blabbed on about how you all would receive copies of the contract to keep with you. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you watched as the contract in front of you disappeared. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had just made a contract with the devil, and you weren’t sure if you’d get out of this with your soul intact. One thing was for sure: you were going to need one hell of a lawyer to help you out. 

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The savoury scent of Chinese takeout wafted through the air. Although you and the others had devoured it the moment the delivery arrived, scarfing it down until your stomach overflowed and then eating some more, the scent lingered. Flopped against the cushions of your couch, you flung arms out, trying to stretch away your food baby. 

“Oh god,” Yelena groaned as she curled up in the corner of your couch. Snagging one of the throw pillows to brace against her stomach, she puffed her cheeks and let out a huff of air, which blew the blonde strands of her hair out and away from her face. “I don’t think I have ever eaten so much food in my life.”

“I second that,” Ava added, letting her head fall back on the cushion to the right of you. Wiping a few stray strands of hair from her face, she let her arms slump back down to the ground, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of your shiny hardwood floors. 

Beside you, Walker took a long sip of the beer he borrowed from your fridge. The flavour of the golden liquid teased his taste buds. At first sip, he wasn’t sure if he’d like it, seeing the brand and all, but it grew on him. The bitterness gave way to a soft sweetness that helped massage away the stress of the past few days. “Nothing better than cheap food and good beer,” he muttered, his eyes distant as he raised the drink in his hand, making a toast. 

“I’d drink to that,” you chimed, as you turned your head to gaze at your drink on the coffee table. You had only taken a few chugs of it before filling your stomach with as much Chinese food as you could eat. Now it sat building up condensation that formed a ring on the wooden surface of the table, matching all the other rings that had come before it. You weren’t one for coasters, it seemed. Extending an arm, you reached out for the drink. Your knuckles stretched out of their place to brush the dewy surface of your can. You jutted out your bottom lip, frowning. It was just out of reach. So you strained even further. Still, the drink lay out of reach. 

Walker chuckled. “Why don’t you try again? Maybe you’ll get it this time.” 

“Shut up, Walker,” you quipped back. You caught sight of the smirk that formed on his lips. The line of his smile reached his bright blue eyes. You rolled yours in response, reaching again for the drink. However, you didn’t have to reach far as the drink was lifted up and placed into your hand. 

“Here you go,” Bob said. Despite wearing your gloves, you could feel the warmth radiating from his hand. Carefully, you adjusted your fingers to hold only the tip of the can, giving his large hand the room it needed on the drink. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling his hand slip away once you had a grip on the drink. Bob just nodded his head, before turning back to his plate, still making his way through the last bits of fried rice on his plate. Lifting the beer to your lips, you felt the cool liquid drain into your throat. It sent a welcomed chill throughout your body. 

At the end of the couch, Bucky pushed himself off the cushions. His hands reached for the dirtied plates and dishware littering the coffee table. Stacking them one on the other, he carried the pile into your kitchen, gently placing them into the sink before washing them off and putting them into your dishwasher. You wanted to tell him you’d take care of it later, but the meeting with Valentina had made your throat coarse and your vocal cords unwilling to speak. Instead, you made a mental note to remind yourself later to thank him. Soon ,Bucky came back with a trash bag, collecting the empty take-out boxes and crushed cans of beer. Eventually, you willed yourself off the couch, following Bucky into the kitchen to finish cleaning up. 

“I’ve got this,” Bucky said, urging you to go sit back down with everyone else as the food comas overcame them. Alexei was the first to succumb as ripples of snores began to sneak out of his mouth. 

You shook your head, placing a few remaining dishes into your dishwasher before closing it. “Nah, it’s my house, you’re my guests.” 

“Well, you’ve been a great host so far, now let me be a grateful guest,” Bucky quipped back. 

You chuckled as he gently pushed you to the side to start your dishwasher for you. “Ever the gentleman, Bucky Bear,” you teased, letting the nickname you gave him long ago slip out, watching as he rolled his eyes at it. You knew he cherished the name more than he let on. He just never would give you the satisfaction of knowing. 

Reaching into the cupboard below your sink, you snatched a container of wipes and popped open the lid. The antiseptic smell of Lysol filled the air. With a sharp tug, the cleaning wipe detached, freeing itself from the bottle, and you began to wipe the counter. There wasn’t much to wipe, but even so, it kept you busy providing you a much-needed distraction from Valentina, the contract, the team, hell, everything. 

“Pepper called.” The words slipped out of your mouth. You sighed, wiping a spot on your counter a little harder. Bucky leaned against the counter beside you. He didn’t say anything, instead just giving you the space you needed to breathe, to keep talking. “She saw the news and called to check in. Make sure everything was okay.” 

“And is it? Is everything okay?” Bucky asked. You didn’t turn to look at him, but felt the weight of his eyes all the same. 

“I don’t know anymore, Bucky,” you admitted. You had stopped wiping the counter long ago, the Lysol wiping having dried out. “Earlier at the restaurant, I thought maybe I could do it, but then we had the meeting and signed the contract–Bucky, I’m drowning. In over my head with everything, and I haven’t even started. What’s worse is that Val is right. She’s a horrible person, but she’s right. I mean, look at us.” You tried your best to stay quiet, but with how much your voice was trembling, it was getting difficult. “We’re a bunch of misfits.” 

“You’re human,” Bucky said. 

You let out a dry laugh. “So were they, and yet here I am feeling less than.” 

Bucky took in a deep breath, flexing his hands. “Look, kid,” you sent him a glare. “Y/N,” Bucky corrected. “The Avengers were idolized. Put on pedestals for stepping up and being the first, but even then, they weren’t perfect. No one is. You know that better than anyone.” 

“Then why is it so much harder to live up to their expectations when they’re gone than when they were alive?” 

“Because they’re a memory. Living things change and adapt. Memories stay fixed, imperfect capsules of what once was. Look, I know it doesn’t do any good to dwell on the past. You get lost in all the questions of what could have happened and what might be instead of seeing what’s right in front of you.” Stepping closer, Bucky placed his vibranium hand over yours. “Go rest, I’ll finish cleaning up here.”

Reluctantly, you dragged yourself away from the kitchen and into the living room, flopping back down onto the couch. Pretty much everyone had fallen asleep by now. Walker lay tucked into the side of the couch. His mouth hung slightly open as he breathed in and out. His chest rose at a slow and steady pace. Nearby, Yelena grumbled in her sleep, still hugging your throw pillow. Ava was no longer anywhere in the room, but from the creaks in the floorboards upstairs, you figured she had found her way back into one of the guest rooms. Alexei still snored, his mouth hanging wide open. His nose twitched, and you noticed bits of rice stuck in his scruffy beard. All while Bob leaned against the palm of his hand. His elbow, which was braced against the table, slipped as he dozed off. The sudden jerk startled him awake. With a finger, you nudged his shoulder. He whirled around to look at you. His eyes were blown wide with sleep. “Huh, uh–I’m up,” he said groggily. 

“You can take one of the beds,” you quietly offered, glancing at the sleeping figures nearby. “I doubt they’ll wake up anytime soon.” 

“Uh, I’m good,” he tried to convince you he wasn’t tired, but you could see the sleep he was trying so hard to fight off. 

“Bob,” you sighed. “You need to rest. We all do. I know my place is unfamiliar, but I’ll do what I can to make it comfortable for you. More pillows or blankets? Maybe melatonin?”

Still, he shook his head. “Melatonin makes me wake up in the middle of the night, so–I promise I’m okay. I just–” His face fell, and he turned away from you. You sat up from your place on the couch, sliding down on the floor next to him. Behind you, you could hear Bucky’s deep footsteps as he made his way into your office to crash on the blow-up mattress. “I-I know you all said that I’m coming with you and that I’m a part of the team, but I can’t help but feel like that if I fall asleep, that I’ll wake up and you all will be gone.” 

Your shoulders fell as the tremble in his voice. Softly, you laid your head against your knees to get a better look at him. “Bob, I promise we will all be here when you wake up. I know some of them are leaving to get packed for when we move into the Watchtower, but we’ll be here.” 

Finally, Bob looked at you. His eyes scanned your face as he searched for any sign of a lie, but there was none. You looked certain and secure in your words despite the uncertainty he had heard you convey to Bucky in the kitchen. He felt bad for eavesdropping, but found it difficult not to listen to the sound of your voice. “Okay…” 

“Speaking of,” You began. “Do you have some place you want to go, things to pack up?” 

Bob shook his head. “No, when I left for Malaysia, I kinda sort of left everything behind. I don’t really have anything, besides the clothes and toothbrush you got me.” 

“Oh,” you uttered. “That’s fine. I’d be happy to pick you up some more things, if you’d like.” 

“I don’t want to ask that of you. You’ve already done a lot for me.” 

“Bob, please, it’s fine. I promise it does nothing but ease the weight of my wallet,” you lightly teased, all while trying to reassure him. “We can go shopping tomorrow if you like.” 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Bob smiled, tucking his knees into his chest to rest his arms on top. Slowly, he let his head drop down, lying in his arms. His eyes were still gazing at you from where you sat. You couldn’t help the heat that flooded your cheeks as he looked at you. 

Licking your lips, you began to nibble on them, your body unconsciously mirroring Bob’s position. “You’re welcome to stay with me, you know, until we all move into the Watchtower and all,” you whispered. Your fingers trailed the seam of your pants up and down, unsure as to why you were nervous for just offering him a place to stay. He hummed in agreement, fighting off the weight of his eyelids as they tried to close. Shifting, you carefully nudged him. “If you won’t go to sleep in one of the beds, at least sleep on the couch, Bob. It’s a great couch, if I might add. Might just sleep on it myself,” you yawned, lifting yourself off the floor to grab some blankets from your closet. Bob shook himself awake, mumbling that he’d be fine, but his body betrayed him as he stood up and crawled onto the couch. You unfolded the blankets, peeling the soft fluffy fabric from each other before lying it down over Yelena, Alexei, Walker, and lastly, Bob. Then finding an open place on the couch, you tugged a blanket over yourself. 

You curled your legs closely, settling in the fetal position. Settling in one of the corners of your large U-shaped couch, you let the serenity of the night overcome you. Bucky or Ava still shuffled around upstairs moving to and from the bathroom. It was a few minutes before the light at the top of the stairs flicked off, leaving only the dim light in the kitchen and some of the warm lights of your lamps remaining. Outside, you could hear the faint rumbling as cars drove by. Occasionally, some light chatter would fill the air as your neighbors stumbled into their homes after a late night. Nearby, you could hear Bob shuffling. The fabric of his sweater zipped across the fabric of your couch as he tried to get comfortable. For a moment all would be still, until he started moving again. 

“Bob?” You called out. He hummed in response, his movements stilled. “You good?”

“Y-yeah, I just–it’s a bit cramped.” You tilted your head off the throw pillow you were laying your head on. It was a floral pattern with tiny birds embroidered onto the surface. Even in the dim light you could see how crowded the other side of the couch was. Walker and Alexei, who were no means small, lay spread out. Walker had his legs out, his feet hanging off the edge of the couch as Yelena’s legs lay tucked behind him. Where Yelena’s waist lay, was Alexei’s head. Granted he was on the floor, his large arm that was tucked underneath his head took up the same amount of space as Yelena’s torso. At the end of the other side of the U lay Bob, trying to avoid placing his feet near Yelena’s face, and legs anywhere near Alexei’s open mouth. 

Observing the large gap that was between you and Walker, you figured it’d be safe. Besides you still had your gloves on which eased any worry you might have accidental touch. “There’s more room over here,” you admitted, opening up the space for him. Bob muttered out an okay, before waddling over, dragging his blanket behind him. Your head dipped down as he lay next to you. His feet just inches from grazing Walker’s sleeping body, his head coming to a rest near yours. Your pillows pressed up against each other. “Better?” You asked. 

Bob nodded, as you watched the tension in his shoulders and neck relax letting him fully extend. “Yeah, thanks.” 

“Of course, anytime.” You took in a deep breath, letting your body fully be held by the couch below you. As your eyelids shut, you called to FRIDAY instructing her to switch off the lights and lock the doors for the night. You vaguely recalled her signalling the completion of the tasks. “Goodnight, Bob” you mumbled, unsure if your words came out coherent or not. Sleep quickly overcame you before you could hear Bob wish you a goodnight as well. 

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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[unlikelyapricot-art]

British/Geordie Shinonome siblings spread inspired by @tom-is-online's British Akito post ^^

I saw the post and thought it was funny + one of my friends is both an Akito and Football fan so I thought it'd be fun combine the two skdjansj (close ups and more rambling under the cut)

traffic light Akito is traced/drawn over from a pic i took at the NUFC cup win celebration- looking back at people doing it in the pictures i thought it'd be funny to have nufc supporter Akito climbing a traffic light for a chance to see the team and the cup ^^ in my head Ena is stood next him wondering why she agreed to come along kjsbdjksab

edit of A Big Feast After the Event Akito to change his shirt into a retro NUFC shirt (yes it has too few stripes but shhh askdbask) and putting a pic of the carabao cup win in the picture frame

mirror selfie Ena!! I saw someone in the tags of the original post talking about the implication of british Ena from british Akito so i couldn't leave her out, but lowkey i both didnt know how to give her in character britishisms and kinda figured Ena is online enough that she'd still dress the same jksadjasb just gave her a shopping bag from a shop in the toon and called it a day 👍

i didn't pop a cropped version of it in but the top right is Ena and Akito getting crepes after a match!!! thought it would be cute + fun for them

also not cropped is the lil akito in the bottom left, i drew him first to get a feel for the fit, was on the fence about keeping him in but he filled some space so i figured he could stay :)

[memories-break-our-fall]

hi . does anyone remember paper mario colour splash . does anyone even think about that game . ever . cause I do

[frameconfessions]

I hope the protoframes remain relevant even after this story arc for the Drifter concludes, but I also recognize how complicated things would get with how many characters they could keep trying to make stay relevant, leading to a Konoha 13 Naruto type situation where we have too many relevant characters from Umbra & Ordis all the way to Kaya Velasco.

.

[shadeofazmeinya]

I’ve been much too busy with real life stuff to really comment about RT closing down. But I do just want to take a moment to seriously thank the fandom over the years, especially the AH fandom that was so kind to me and my writing in the past. To everyone who ever left a nice comment on a fic or a nice note in the reblogs, thank you. To everyone who ever shared their work, thank you. I will forever miss the joy and creativity of the fandom coming up with aus and whole worlds, working together on creative projects, cheering each other on when creative works got noticed. I met so many amazing people and made so many friends through RT and for that I am very grateful. I wish the best for every RT employee in finding a way forward and up from here. And to finding friends in the fandom again along the way

[thedrotter]

I have a gift for y'all today !!! 😊 Ever wanted to find a line in Re:Kinder in a single place for the sake of reference?? How about multiple chunks of lines. how about all the little variations that arise in the text with it's many endings, item descriptions, text that comes from interacting with the enviroment, and character info from the menu without having to boot up the game and go through it at long minutes!!???

well i sure did😊 Since I do a lot of fanart and think up my own silly theories and thoughts that need me to reference the game lines a lot, i have made a transcript for it for convenience's sake. A weirdly thorough transcript handwritten and proofread by me including all character lines available in-game. And I'm sharing it with you all today for anyone that wants it !!! :3 To use as a reference for creative fanworks or a quick search for a line in-game, whatever you wish to use it for!!

It uses the english translation of the game by vgperson. So naturally all credit for the game lines available in here is to her and Parun who made the game.

I did my best to organize it in a way easy to digest. Do note that I'm still human, and there's still the chance for mistake in it no matter how much I've proofread it, since I'm not even an english native speaker ^^. But I hope it serves you well nonetheless if you wish to use it.

That's my gift for today!!! Not the usual art, but still a project I'm proud of. Enjoy!!! 😊

[hurricanek8art]

Hello, I just glimpsed your tags on a post and no pressure (I myself am. So anxious about this ask rip) but if you would like to talk about your trooper and bounty hunter cousins I would love to hear about them, that sounds like a delightful recipe for a character dynamic (like. Is one essentially betraying the other? Did they come up in a situation where they just went their separate ways? How do they feel about the demands of their jobs putting them at odds/how close were they???)

DO NOT BE ANXIOUS I CRAVE ENCOURAGEMENT TO YAK ABOUT MY STORIES 🥰🥰🥰

Okay SO my Ordo cousins are kind of a mess in the best way family can be, with the added heap of Mandalorian Family Drama on top. A good portion of the story for them came from me being really fascinated by all the lore around the Mandalorians of this era and kinda disappointed with how little we actually know, and then me realizing "hey I accidentally made my Mando cousins look a LOT* like the Ordo brothers completely unintentionally" and then my brain went a-plot-bunnying away and came up with More Lore for my stories that I really need to put down in a coherent form/document. But I had maybe three hours of sleep, I know if I nap that I'm gonna murder my sleep schedule, and my dog is chewing on my desk chair again, so that is not happening here today. 🤣😭

*I'm not kidding, I've changed Jaiga's hair and Devika's makeup/tattoos since I made this, but I mean look:

Accidental cousins go BRRRRRRRR

Aaaaaaand I gotta put this under a wall of text because I have Cannot Summarize in a Brief Succinct Manner Whatsoever Because Infodumping Is Fun problems and I don't wanna take over the dash. If this makes no sense, again, three hours of sleep. 🤣😭

Basic barebones (i say like a liar 🤣😭) backstory: Devika and Jaiga grew up as two of six of the Ordo chieftain's grandkids together and are basically siblings. So Artus Lok becomes Mandalore the Vindicated then turns around and reinvests Mandalore's loyalty to the Sith Empire, Jicoln Cadera falls out with him over it and starts rallying clans. By that point Jek and Rass' part of the family split to do their own thing on Makeb for Reasons I Have Not Determined (I try to be a little canon compliant) so it's just Dev, Jai and Jaiga's older brother Korvun left with their respective parents, and Jicoln shows up to talk Clan Ordo into joining up with his uprising against Vindicated. Their grandpa Kinkaid doesn't like being loyal to the Empire either but doesn't want to turn on Lok, but Devika, who is being groomed as a future successor to the chieftaincy, rallies the clan into supporting Cadera because they're all sick of being used and abused by the Empire—they're Clan Ordo! Their forefather was Mandalore the Preserver, close ally to Revan! He and Clan Ordo helped bring down Darth Nihilus! So why are they bowing and scraping for the Sith when all the Sith have ever done for the Mando'ade is use them as cannon fodder? Speech is awesome, Ordo joins Cadera's rebellion, and when Clan Ordo does something like that, a whole bunch of other clans follow them because of Canderous' continuing legacy of loyalty and honor. They're gonna start a revolution and get them the kriff away from the Empire once and for all!

Which. Obviously. Doesn't happen. And goes very... very... very badly.

Jaiga and Korvun end up the only ones in the chieftain's family to survive the Schism—Jaiga fought, Korvun was born for clan politics but has some mobility issues that make him prefer to stay out of the actual fighting, both have some intense PTSD from losing most of their family. At that point they're sixteen and eighteen and technically traitors, so Clan Ordo gets appointed an "advisor" (read: Lok-approved supervisor) to ensure reparations go smoothly. Korvun takes over the clan chieftaincy but is pretty powerless to affect much without the advisor's approval. Jaiga is "volunteered" as an ijaat-sur'eyir, an honor-seeker, to basically wander the galaxy as an exile, no aid whatsoever from her family or clan, and find a way to regain Clan Ordo's honor and her own. Basically, she gets Zuko'd into a quest to find the Avatar, but the closest thing she gets to an Uncle Iroh is Braden, who gets killed only like six months into her bounty hunter apprenticeship to him, so she has to figure all this stuff out on her own (well, and with her crew). All that time out there alone makes her really bitter, disillusioned with her chances, and resentful of Devika for rallying them into the Schism, though. Because what do they have to show for all that loyalty to Mandalore the Preserver's legacy? Everyone's dead!

...except Devika did not get killed in the Schism.

She managed to get away with only a few scars. She tried to get back and fight for Clan Ordo in the aftermath, but she got betrayed by someone in the clan who felt betrayed by her actions in turn, and ended up in a Zygerrian slave camp for two years until she managed to jerry-rig a transmitter and reported their activities to the nearest Republic army base. SpecForce shows up to clear them out, since they'd been using the post-Treaty of Coruscant chaos to expand their enterprise into Republic territory with Republic citizens, and Dev's efforts in helping fight back get noticed. The leader of Cyclone Squad (made it up for fic purposes!) catches on that she's a Mandalorian who escaped the Schism real fast, but she's a dang good fighter and she went out of her way to save innocent lives, and points her in the direction of Special Forces since she has nowhere else to go and clearly wants to fight. Dev picks up the name Mav Darmani out of worry that if Mand'alor notices her fighting for the Republic that he'll bring the hammer down on whoever is left alive back home, graduates top of her class from Carida, serves a few outer rim tours with Cyclone, then gets transferred to Havoc just in time for All of That Business.

Neither Devika or Jaiga know the other survived the Schism until they both start making the galactic news (for vastly different reasons 😬) and recognize each other. Devika is overjoyed that Jai and Korvun survived. Jaiga wants to kill her for everything that happened. I haven't worked out how the reunion goes but it goes Badly. They're fine as of KotFE (and happily reunited with their other cousins! I can't remember which one but one of the Ordo bros' codex blurbs mentions they were at Darvannis), but it takes a long, long, long time for them to work things out. They're a mess that loves heckling/teasing/driving each other up the kriffin' wall, but I love my mess.

[reel-fear]

Honestly, every single time the whole 'poppy playtime is a bendy rip-off' stuff ever shows up I find it all extremely unconvincing and silly.

For one thing, rip-off usually is meant to imply that it's a cheap lazy copy of a better more polished thing, and uh. Sorry but even from chapter 1? Poppy Playtime is a better game than Bendy, it has a simple but understandable story, the game manages to be thrilling, creepy, and very intense at times... I mean that Huggy chase in the vents ALONE puts it way above Batim for me.

I mean BATDR had the most slow stupid chase I've ever seen [and every other encounter with the ink demon is text telling u he's there and then a timer goes down and u get jumpscared] and batim's chases were either silly or just not nearly as theatric or terrifying as that.

When making the vent sequence I mean not only is it absolutely horrifying to realize how fast Huggy is in there but also it's so theatric and cool? The fact that you round a corner after thinking you escaped only to see a terrifying animation of that thing crawling toward you is awesome! I wish Bendy had stuff like that!

And all the stuff it shares with Bendy are generic things Bendy ripped from other horror games/media anyways. I'm not saying Poppy Playtime isn't inspired by Bendy I for sure think it is but Bendy is such a generic story that somehow fails to do tropes 100 other horror games have done any comparison only makes Poppy Playtime look better.

"It has employees being sacrificed for their company" That is not a concept Bendy invented, literally look at any of the sci-fi horror series Bendy is very inspired by. This is literally a twist in the original Alien.

"It has a scary woman forcing you to do tasks for her" Once again, not a concept Bendy invented, a scary mysterious person forcing you to do fetch-quests is a concept found in tons of horror media. And at least Poppy Playtime gave you a chase with her and let you defeat her, look at poor malice. She's barely on screen for more than 10 minutes before she gets stabbed.

"It has a cult worshipping the monster" This is something tons of horror games and media have done too. I mean In The Tall Grass has a guy who worships a giant magical rock in the middle of a grass maze, Bioshock [which Bendy has only been taking more and more direct inspiration from while failing to grab any of the compelling parts] also had a lot of themes of religion and cult-ish behavior, almost every horror media franchise has at one point done a cult thing.

Bendy couldn't even come up with a reason Sammy worships the ink demon, the best motivation we've ever gotten is just that 'he's crazzyyyy the ink made him insaneeee'. Who is the cheap rip-off here?

At least Poppy Playtime gave their cultist a motive for worshipping the monster + a proper boss fight that feels intense and looks awesome! Bendy didn't even let you kill Malice [she got stabbed in front of you and then just collapsed on the floor how thrilling] meanwhile you get to kill three of the villains in Poppy Playtime and the gameplay and action in those scenes have only gotten better as the game went on.

I mean Sammy walks into a room and goes "AAA SCARY I'M BEING MURDERED" then later shows up and for NO REASON sees a normal human man and assumes it's the ink demon before once again someone else kills him for you. In Poppy Playtime you defeat Catnap as he floods the world with this horrible nightmare-inducing gas that intensifies the color palette and his design. Fight off versions of him that are illusions that you need your flare gun for, then watch in a wonderful animation as he mistakes the monster for his savior before getting killed by it, in a brutal way I might add, which game are we accusing of being cheap, lazy garbage again?

I just find this argument to be people who Really Really need to find a reason to hate Poppy Playtime which I think is silly. The devs being weird, shady people is already enough reason to dislike the game, you don't need to invent reasons why secretly every part of the game is malicious or bad. But esp when I see Bendy fans saying they don't support Poppy Playtime or dislike it bc of its devs or even saying its cringe ummmm.

I have bad news about the fact Bendy's devs are worse and it took not one, but TWO over an hour long videos to cover it all. Plus the Bendy games are just the worse games in every aspect, if I could sell my batim copy for a copy of Poppy Playtime I wouldn't hesitate at all.

Saying this as a bendy fan, we have no right to be super judgy towards Poppy Playtime. If Poppy Playtime is embarrassing cringe, Bendy is too and is way more embarrassing of an interest. We shouldn't spread misinformation just because we all want to hate Poppy Playtime, you can dislike Poppy Playtime without making up a bunch of nonsense to justify it.

Honestly seeing people just blatantly be unfairly mean to Poppy Playtime only makes its critics look worse and makes it hard to take any backlash to the games seriously. Because surprise surprise if you spread misinformation to make a point people will quickly stop listening to Anything you have to say bc they won't trust you're telling the truth anymore.

[ragnars-tooth]

HII HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

As promised, here are seven wips from the last uhh 3 years I've been writing dragons book fanfic on my silly gay computer. They're a mix of unfinished/abandoned/in-progress-but-not-that-important-rn

There are summaries in square brackets between each separate fic with a quick description of what the fuck is going on, when it's going on (e.g. book number, where appropriate) and main players/relationships. (plus a fun little word-count and look at the last time i touched the file… yeah, fun… whoops). These have been bolded to hopefully make them a bit easier to see while scrolling at high velocity.

All under the cut because it's too long for me to do that to your dashboards 🫡

[Lucy & David, chatting about author photos post-book 4. 475 words. (Oct 2022 💀)]

“Hang on…”

David paused, finger still wedging the spine of the book open. He was staring at the flap of the dust cover, frowning slightly to himself.

“Did you use my student ID for my author photo?”

Lucy leant in closer. College David was a little younger than David Rain – same dark blue eyes, but with a rounder face and hair that hadn’t been bleached white by his time elsewhere. The dusty brown still crept in at the ends of his hair, where it was now stuck to the inside of his collar.

Lucy couldn’t remember how many times she had taken down her copy of The Nutbeast and stared at the little card. It was odd to compare the man who’d lived only in her head for so many years to the one sitting on the edge of her bed.

He looked tired now. In-her-head-David had never been tired.

“It was the only one mum had.” She said.

It was the truth; Liz had run through his entire film collection and hadn’t found a single photo of David’s face. He’d been more of a landscape photographer – lots of buses and bridges that hadn’t consoled her as a child. Well, a younger child.

David cocked his head to one side, looking decidedly distraught. “But it’s awful – that’s not an excuse!”

She glanced back down, as though the image might have twisted into something else in the time she’d released her focus from it.

Nope. Still David, if a little pixelly.

“It looks fine.”

His hair was staticky and spidering out in a mess of flyaways, and David had a slight manic glint to his eyes, grinning in an angular, uncomfortable way. There might have been a stain on his shirt – it was hard to tell.

“It does not.”

Lucy cocked an eyebrow. “And where did you want us to get another? Your return address isn’t even real.”

He flailed the book wildly, “I don’t even have parents! That makes it double your fault for not having a photo of me.” The cover was still propped open an inch or so, the paper caught on his ring. “There has got to be a better one in this house.”

“Can’t fix your face, David. They’re all going to look like that.”

“This is inhumane!” he sputtered.

Despite it all, Lucy found herself smiling.

“We used it at your… not-funeral too.”

“I’m sorry.” David scoffed, eyes very wide. “You used my student identification photo at my funeral?”

“And where were we meant to get another one? You were gone remember? Can’t exactly call ghostbusters and ask them to snap a photo of you.”

David frowned, nose wrinkling at the bridge.

“I don’t think they do that – they bust the ghosts, remember?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “You’re a very annoying ghost. Maybe I should give them a ring regardless.”

-----

[Lucy & David, the audacity that some people have to move on and remodel the kitchen while you’re gone, really. 535 words. (March 2023)]

Irrevocably and stupidly, the only words he can get out of his mouth are:

“You moved the fridge.”

It’s not incorrect – it used to push up against the backdoor, and no amount of goodwill could stop you from nearly decapitating Bonny when he pattered through the cat-flap on short notice.

Now, it’s on the opposite wall – plastered in the same old stickers and fridge magnets reminiscent of days gone by. It’s the same fridge where he used to drink straight from the milk carton and look out over the rockery and crooked garden fence, but it doesn’t face the window anymore. David would have to turn fully around, which rather defeats the purpose.

It’s nothing intelligent, nothing profound – so much, so fucking much, has happened in five years and the only thing he can think about is the fridge, Lucy filling her water in the moonlight, barely tall enough to reach the faucet, and the rattling of the entire house in the winter months, post it notes and postcards and crayon drawings of a clan of squirrels.

There are new drawings now – Alexa’s, he thinks vaguely – but it’s not the same. She holds her markers much tighter.

It shouldn’t be a shock. It’s been so, so long since he was last here, but in the same breath it’s as though David had only closed his eyes for a second to rest, and the house has grown and shifted around him.

He knows that this is how things work, he hadn’t expected or wanted them to dig in their heels and sink into the snow with him. It’s a good thing, he tells himself, that things have changed, but he chokes on the inhale anyway.

He’s been left behind.

Lucy leans into the counter, dragging the cuff of her jumper between her thumb and forefinger. She bites the inside of her cheek the same way she did five years ago, but that’s wrong too.

It’s something in her eyes, something heavy and dark that’s never going away – she’s tired, much more tired than a child has any right being, and it seizes something in his chest.

He did this.

She sighs, moving to play with the collar of the jumper instead.

“Bonny likes to be big now and household fridges aren’t really made to withstand the force of a hundred-pound tiger… it got old real quick.”

David wants to say something, to lapse back into the way things used to be, but his mouth betrays him. He nods instead, and Lucy keeps tugging at the green fabric at her neck. It’s his old geography society jumper, he notices absently. It looks older than he feels, silver lettering faded black and brown, eroded away entirely in places. He hadn’t been to many of the meetings, not after truly being inducted into the Pennykettle’s nonsense, but the dusty smell of the common room and their pilfered coffee machine fills his nose.

It makes him want to gag. Where exactly are those members now? The idea of what will become of them if he fails has the prickle of ice rising just under his skin.

How can things be so much the same and so different all at once?

-----

[Henry & David: excerpt from the wider ‘wouldn’t you be mad as hell if you were a normal guy and found out your birth dad is your landlady’s new boyfriend?’ au, post family dinner explosion/revelation. 703 words. (September 2023)]

“Exiled from my own house.” He muttered darkly.

Henry arched a massive eyebrow. “You don’t pay the rent, boy.”

“I do – that is literally the one thing I do.”

“That’s rough, man.” Tam mumbled, hands weighed down by the tall coffee mug he had pilfered. It tipped dangerously as he raised it to his mouth, threatening to douse them all in yet more sludge. Henry frowned and steadied it with one hand. Tam blinked slowly and reset his angle.

“There’re camping beds under the stairs. You can set yourself up in the living room.” Henry narrowed his eyes at the two of them, “You will not be rumpling my upholstery by sleeping on my sofa.”

Tam hummed, setting his mug down owlishly before slogging out of the kitchen. He looked much more jelly than human, and David had half a mind to go and help him before he gave up on assembling the bed and curled up in a heap on the floor. He wasn’t sure if that had been on Henry Bacon’s extensive list of house rules or not.

“Did you know for long?” Henry asked quietly.

The tone took David off guard, breaking him out of his considerations of how comfortable Henry’s plush carpet was and how likely it was Tam was going to get a good night’s sleep in the inevitability that he collapsed from exhaustion.

“Know what?”

“Don’t be stupid boy.” Henry huffed, his eyes softening more than David had ever seen. It was an odd expression for the hard lines of his face. “How long did you know Arthur was your father?”

He laughed.

Turning his wrist to check the face of his watch he answered,

“Oh, about seven hours.”

“Mm, so ruining dinner was a crime of passion then.”

“Or you could say Arthur ruined dinner twenty-three years ago. Ultra-pre-meditated.”

Henry sighed.

“Don’t start writing crime novels, boy. You’re dreadful.” “It must have been a shock to the system then, you’re not one to get angry.”

David shrugged. It sounded almost like a compliment. Two years ago he would have told you with full certainty that dragons were a fantasy. Now they warmed his tea in the mornings. A lot of things had changed in his life since then.

He shifted his mug between his hands and took another sip. The dregs were starting to cool.

“It would have been better if it had been literally anyone else. Arthur’s been so… kind to me since we met and all this… it’s just-” his nose scrunched, “highly contradictory to everything I thought I knew.”

David’s family had come up in conversation before – once Henry Bacon had hold of a thread he yanked and yanked until it came loose, no matter how many loose teeth he took with it. Perhaps that was why he and Tam got along so well.

It was no secret how David felt about the concept of his father. Henry Bacon had shared enough choice words about the man himself that David had to wonder what calculations were running in the back of his mind. Was he unravelling all of his interactions with Arthur, sliding the threads under a microscope? Was he a good man? Honourable?

David didn’t have the answers to that himself.

He shook his head to clear it.

“It doesn’t matter. He’s barely a father – he wasn’t there to raise me and he certainly wasn’t there when I needed him.” He rolled his mug around to observe the escaped leaves. “I think you did a better job at that.” 

“Arthur’s… a complicated man. I’m sure you two will be able to have a civil conversation once this is all said and done.”

When exactly does this get to be done? He wasn’t sure anyone could tell him that. Not for all Arthur’s understanding of the universe and all its components therein was there an equation he could use to fix this. Replace x and y and find how he had missed this. To be so impossibly close and so far away at the same time. No doubt, he would have invented time travel before he would have noticed what sat right in front of him.   

David hummed into his empty mug.

“Sure.”

-----

[Tam/David, General Pennykettle Clan. David is weird after being resurrected, and everyone has questions about Co:pern:ica. There is another family dinner because those are all I write apparently. Tam and David go for a smoke break. 3067 words. (November 2022)]

“’Not like it can kill me anyway.” He says. “I didn’t eat for four years, it’s not like a bit of smoke will do me in now.”

The silence is suddenly oppressive, and when David looks up the entire damn table is staring at him, slack-jawed. He has missed something.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Four years?” Liz is still holding the plate of roasters, stuck in the motion of sliding more onto her plate with the flat of her knife. There is something akin to real horror in her eyes. 

“I was dead for one, yes.”

She extends the plate to him jerkily. “Then you’d better make up for it now.”

Ah! Yes, the human concept of starvation, he’d forgotten that one. Generally pretty upsetting to the average person – makes sense.

David pushes the plate back her way, gentle not to disturb the roasters as he laughs. They’re the herb covered kind and it would be a dire shame to spill them all over the floor, no matter if Bonny might thank him.

“No, really. I’m fine. Had other things to worry about – slipped my mind if anything.”

Other things, yes… let’s say that, shall we?

Arthur has inclined his head towards him in the way that means he’s grabbed the string of an intriguing theory and intends to tug it until the entire tapestry unravels. He gets that look about him a lot.

David shivers despite the British cold always being abrasively hot to him these days. What an odd image to set him on edge.

“Would you call that typical for the Fain? Not needing to sustain a physical body?”

He rolls the unlit cigarette around between his fingers.

“No,” David hums, “I don’t think it’s a Fain thing, I think it’s a dead thing.”

“But you’re not dead now, are you?” There’s a tension in Zanna’s words that he wasn’t expecting. If he were sentimental he might have called it concern. But he’s not sentimental, he’s Fain – he doesn’t do that anymore.

David shrugs. “Not entirely sure if I count as alive either.”

“You do.” She’s quick – always has been to cut off the things she doesn’t want to hear. Zanna has made it clear enough that she doesn’t like the thought that David Rain was never real, that he was some construct given life. He can’t blame her.  

“Can we not talk about how you’re dead or not dead.” Lucy snaps, her plate clinking a dangerous tone when she slams down her fork. David flinches at the sound. Tam has his eyes on him again. “You’re finally back and I don’t want to think about -” she glares at the fireplace, “-all that. I just want to have dinner again.”

He feels a twinge of the heaviness and lightness of space winking back at him. The same sensation of holding Bergstrom’s pocket watch in his open hand and staring into its face, and all that that entails.

Good, it seems to say to him, you’re not here to be liked.

“’Course. Sorry, Luce.”

She shakes her head, and seems to think better of whatever was on the tip of her tongue. She picks up her fork again and returns her gaze to the plate,

“Whatever, answer Arthur’s physics questions.”

David slides his Yorkshire pudding onto her plate in some semblance of a peace offering. Lucy douses it in gravy and almost smiles at him.

“It’s probably an… Illumination thing, rather than a Fain thing.” He tucks the cigarette into the pocket of his shirt. With the way Arthur has crossed his hands on the tablecloth there is no way David is going to get a smoke break any time soon. “I was in limbo for a long time, but I remember that my parents used to cook.”

Those eyes are all on him again. Even Bonny has plodded back into the living room to stare at him, though he’s probably waiting for one of their entourage to drop a piece of chicken.

The cat glides under the table, and from the sound of pattering paws David can hear him settle in Arthur’s lap. The professor removes a hand from the table to rest in Bonny’s fur. Then his eyes move from the patch of wall over David’s shoulders to his face.

Right. Being stared at. That’s what’s happening.

“Not my parents,” he corrects. “One of me’s parents.” That’s worse.

“The me that does not have this specific earth body, but existed in Co:pern:ica.” Better? “The me that had parents.” Nope, that’s even worse.

No one looks like they know what to say. He can’t blame them. This whole family thing is a mess.

“We do eat.” He settles on, then shoves a piece of parsnip in his mouth for good measure. He is safe for the next five to twelve seconds, if he really pushes it.

They’re curious, but no one wants to touch that mess, so Arthur breaks the quiet of everyone glancing off awkwardly at various décor, grimacing slightly. “You had mentioned that the Fain don’t do many menial tasks unless they’re unavoidable – if you remember it that way, then you’re likely right.”

“Well, I don’t remember it, but based on Co:pern:ica David, I’d say so.“ Good Godith, what was in that fucking wine? “His parents cooked, so they had to eat. Probably...”

The looks return, so he moves on quickly, waving his hands vaguely.

“Multiple timelines,” he says, “There’s several me’s, doing about the same thing now. Several you’s too. I’m just aware of them because of the d- Illumimation thing.”

Why did you say that?? Now they’re going to want to know-

“There’s multiple of us?” Tam looks at him over the rim of his glasses, half-smirking, “What, am I still a journalist?”

“Uhhh…” Well. “Of a sort. It’s hazy, but I think you worked for the media.”

Don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested, don’t say he got arrested for treason and left for dead, don’t say he used to look at you with admiration in his eyes, and that stupid overgrown haircut, don’t say you were jealous of the way he looked at Rosa, for God’s sake David you can keep your thoughts to yourself you stupid bastard.

“You guys have a media?”

Oh great, you’ve just made him more interested. Good job, jackass!

David tries to make a non-comital sound in the back of his throat. It comes out strangled. Zanna frowns at him as she sips her wine.

“Very… State-operated, if you get my drift.”

Tam, ever the journalist, has just opened his mouth to probe for more answers when Liz cuts him off. She has piled up the empty plates in her quadrant of the table. David hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s floundering, but from the fact that she’s diffusing the situation he has to accept that it probably is.

“Well, don’t leave us hanging – who were the rest of us,” she laughs, “who was I?”

You used to read me to sleep. You painted the walls of my bedroom green when I said the grey made me sad. You were the only person we knew who made things with her hands instead of Imagineering them. You went to the Dead Lands and made life. You were my –

 “You were a potter.”

Tam rolls his eyes,

“God, are we all boring?”

It makes him oddly defensive for some reason.

“Zanna worked at the librarium.”

You know the reason. You knew all of these people in a way they can never know. You’ve loved them every universe you’ve been alive in. You always will. They cannot know that. It would be too hard. It would make you cry, and the Fain don’t cry.

“Librarium?” Arthur asks, Bonny’s round face pouting over the edge of his plate, eyes focused on the sliver of ham across a moat of gravy. It’s safe for now, it’ll take at least another ten minutes for Bonnington to figure out that he can step up onto the table.

“It’s… basically a library, but the books are alive and it’s run by Henry Bacon.”

“Mr Bacon?” Lucy looks frankly appalled at the idea.

“A weird Fain Mr Bacon, yes. I think I – I think the other me was living there.”

“Like when Gwiliana kicked you out.”

David snorts. “Yeah, like the week from hell.”

He shakes his head, re-adjusts course, then looks back to Arthur. “We haven’t had physical books in over a hundred years – the librarium was where they all went, Henry-” he nods to the woman on his right, “-and Zanna kept them in order.”

He sips from his glass.

Probably a bad idea, you’ve been running your mouth all night. Shut up.

“They were bloody tricky bastards.”

Zanna looks at him oddly. Her brows are pinched but she doesn’t seem overtly disgusted with the idea. It’s possibly the first time she has been at least neutral on the discussion of the Fain.

On the discussion of who you are.

“You couldn’t have lived at a library. You would’ve made a pig’s ear of it.” Her voice is not cold – it’s a joke, probably. She thinks it’s funny.

“Oh, I did.” He pauses, tries to recall the details. The librarium is hazy for some reason.

He recalls Rosa and her kicker boots, lying in the grass by the well, firebirds overhead. He remembers being eleven, reading about pianists… then being… twenty? He decides not to poke around too hard in that gap, though its vastness is mildly concerning.

He worries that there is something there that is worse than not knowing.

You felt that way before. When you were first living at the Crescent. You had huge gaps in your childhood. Scattered dates and one or two fixed points. You don’t even know if that was real. You don’t know if you want it to be.

David swallows thickly, “I don’t… actually remember what happened while I was there – while he was there. But he must have been there about ten years – that’s what the memories tell me anyway.”

You wanted me to leave the librarium so I would stop distracting you. You made me daisy chain bracelets and we used to curl up in the hammocks together to read. There wasn’t enough room but I would race you to see who could finish their volume faster. You almost always won, but I paid more attention to the details. I never did understand what was meant to be more or less important – it was in the book, so it had to be relevant, right? Mr Henry said we complimented each other nicely.

David is vaguely aware that he has slipped into a long silence. He watches Tam glance across the table at Zanna. His fingers itch for that cigarette.

“There are two of us left wise guy.” Lucy says, finally pushing her plate away. She hasn’t touched the sprouts. She never does. “What did Arthur and I get up to?”

He pretends to think for a moment, leaning back in his seat. His plate still has a mound of mash and peas. It’ll get cold and start going soggy soon. He hasn’t felt hungry since he died. He’ll still eat it.

David rolls his shoulders.

“Arthur was a physicist – it goes over my head but I think it was something to do with time.” Arthur tips his head not unlike a dog. He would love more details but David isn’t lying when he says he doesn’t get it.

You were my dad. You worked a lot. You did a good enough job when I did see you.

“I think… you had a cool name. It’s on the tip of my tongue”

Lucy snorts. “Boring. Just me left!” She arches a curious eyebrow – the one with the carefully placed slit. “And I better be more interesting.”

This is vague too. She’s young – no, really young – and then she’s… less young? But still a little kid. There’s the same chasm in his memory.

How can I know she’s my sister and have no idea when she was born? How do I have no clue what happened after I left – is it just too close? Do I need to write it down?

At the thought of writing a familiar green snout noses its way into his head. Zookie sits on his desk, looking up at him expectantly. The little dragon taps his pencil on the edge of his pad in a way that betrays some irritation. I can’t believe you’re making me fish through your memories, he’s saying.

Nonetheless, Gadzooks scribbles down his answer, then flips the wire-bound book so David can decipher it.

Angel.

It makes his mouth go dry. What the hell did Lucy have to do with an angel, and why does it make him so uneasy? Zookie shrugs and, as he dissipates like smoke, David takes a long drink.

When he finally has enough sense about him not to melt into the carpet or storm off into the night and never return, he smiles at Lucy.

“You were the most boring child I’d ever met in my life. You liked maths.”

“I still like maths!” Lucy snaps, rolling her eyes. “I’m an engineering student!”

David shrugs, “You literally can’t get more boring, Luce.”

She lobs a pea at him and Liz starts gesturing at the two of them with her ladle. There’s the usual lecture about acting like adults, and how Lucy really should know better by now, but David isn’t listening. His eyes keep drifting to the window, out into the garden. He feels odd, though he can’t place it.

He shakes it off – talking about the Fain, delving into the memories of people who are him but not quite always has him disoriented afterwards – that’s all.

And whatever Gadzooks is on about will either happen or it won’t. He can dwell on it later. For right now, Tam is staring at him over the head of his beer – half empty. That seems a little more pressing than Zookie’s one-word puzzles.

-

“I’m gonna go take that smoke.” David says, already out of his seat by the time Zanna can send him a wayward glance. She still seems uneasy – she sees something in his face that she doesn’t like, her brows furrow further and she returns to her wine.

Liz sighs, but makes no move to stop him. “Just don’t throw the butt in the bushes,” she says, “I don’t want you setting all of Scrubbley on fire.”

“Will do.”

He sends her a mock salute, then dips around the door into the hallway.

Tam is three feet behind him when his hand is on the front door. “Figured you might need a lighter.”

David looks back to him before pushing the door open. “You are a shock Mr Farrell! A poet and a smoker – Liz will never approve.”

He gets a wry smile in response. “You started it – you’re the favourite ‘round here anyway. We can call you a bad influence on me.” He pats his jacket pocket – it’s the one with the tartan print lining that comes through at the hood and the cuffs. “Do you need that light or not?”

David pushes the door the rest of the way open, then stops it open with his weight.

“I think between us we should be able to manage.”

They sit on the brick wall that lines the entire front side of the Crescent. It’s perhaps a little too low even for David, but it beats standing around in the cold air, shifting your weight from foot to foot until the cigarette is biting your fingers.

Tam extracts a beaten-up silver lighter from his pocket, then fiddles with the latch for a moment. The cigarette resting on his lip wobbles as he swears, failing the ignition several times.

“No juice?”

He sighs.

“Not even a spark.”

David shrugs, “’s alright, I do have a back-up for when handsome journalists don’t have a lighter.”

He leans closer into Tam’s space, cupping his hands in a small bowl.

He had done this before – maybe not in this life, but the echoes of the action were strong enough that he could feel the order of operations like a phantom pain.

He felt vaguely that he was cupping his hands more to protect it from the wind than as a necessary motion. It would appear when he closed his eyes and thought it – dreamt it.

He conjured up the image of a small candle flame, the orange hue and white core, flickering slightly but solid enough in shape and colour.

Someone was talking over his shoulder – several someones, whispery and faint on the wind. The main voice was familiar enough – Liz, but not quite. He chooses to ignore the difference.

He feels the bright heat and the wobbling shape, forces it to become real, then David Rain opens his eyes.

It isn’t that impressive for a little light that has completely shattered several laws of physics. It looks more like David is hiding a birthday candle in his palms. A very small, very shit birthday candle. Been there, he thinks.

Tam, however, had clearly not been there. His eyes have gone wide, and the cigarette looks in serious danger of tumbling straight out of his mouth.

“Fuck me.” He mumbles.

“Not right now.” David says, raising his hands to his mouth.

The flame is real enough to catch, and David is soon offering his palms to Tam. He bends his head to accommodate the spark.  

Once the second cigarette is lit, David pulls his hands away from one another, extinguishing the light. Tam takes a drag, still staring wide-eyed over the rims of his glasses.

“Jesus fuck. Have you always been able to do that?”

David laughs. Have I, indeed.

“First time.”

“Christ.”

He takes a drag of the cigarette. Two men puffing smoke on the front door-step of the dragon-potter’s house – it was no wonder that rumours of real, scaly dragons have popped up in the neighbourhood. David imagines there might be more rumours of that calibre soon, but pushes it to the back of his mind.

“You had something to ask me.”

He considers denying it for a moment, then lets it go.

“I did.” Tam says, chewing over the next syllables in his head before he finally lets them loose, “Are you alright?”

-----

[David/Zanna. I hit early series David with the transgenderism beam. Zanna does David’s makeup, she has feelings about it. 1038 words. (31 December 2022… omg happy birthday ‘transes ur gender.docx’)]

It’s a joke.

It’s a joke.

Zanna has joked approximately a thousand times that he has the right face for makeup. That David has nice lashes and deep eyes and a just slightly soft jaw. He is indulging in the joke.

It means absolutely nothing, other than that he has a sense of humour.

In fact, it’s so funny that David is sat stock-still. Committing to the bit and allowing his partner to work her magic is going to make the outcome objectively so much funnier.

It’s a little bit secondary school sleepover – not the type that he’d ever been to, of course, there were a few more dicks and a bit less lip-gloss at those, but the thought remains – David perched on the edge of the bed, Zanna leaning tantalisingly into his space, a look of wicked concentration on her face.

He continues to avoid Zanna’s eyes. If he catches them then he’ll just start laughing, and then Zanna will start laughing, and then they’ll be a mess and the joke won’t get finished. Given the time she’s spent on his eye-shadow, it would be a shame at this point.

Lucy had never really been into makeup, or at least none of the fancy stuff. But she had found the idea of doing him up absolutely hysterical. She’d offered a hundred times but the thought had always struck something deep inside him – annoyance, was it? That she felt like he was a doll to practice on, maybe?

That she would absolutely fuck it up on purpose?

And considering the whole joke is that Zanna’s going to make him look like a girl, what would’ve been the point in fucking it up? They’ve already established that being overly serious is hilarious.

That looking convincingly like a girl when he’s not one is the peak of comedy. 

On the desk over Zanna’s shoulder, Zookie huffs. He twiddles the pencil between his paws, scaley eyebrows drawn together.

He flips the page and looks up at David. Whatever he was hoping to see, he does not, and the dragon shakes his head, tapping the book with some impatience.

Hmph, David thinks, if only you had some way to tell me things that we’ve used a dozen times. Or a language we both speak. What a crying shame.

“Alright?”

“Fine.” His voice is a little rough from disuse and nothing else. They have been sat in silence for quite some time.

“Sure?” a brush flicks around the corners of his eyes, “It’s not getting in your eyes, is it?”

“No.”

She snorts to herself, dropping the brush back into a basket of the bastards.

“You’re being very talkative, darling.”

“Sorry, I forgot I was meant to.”

“Relaxing when other people do your makeup, isn’t it?”

David hummed.

“Becca always falls asleep when I do hers. Nightmare when you’re meant to be going out somewhere.”

“Becca?” He tried to conjure an image of Zanna’s older sister in his mind. The result was a woman who was very much normal. Or at least, not someone who dresses remotely like her sister. “Isn’t your style a little… much for her?”

“Oi! She’s not boring, you know. And anyway, I can tone it down, and I am right now. I wasn’t aware you wanted me to make you a gothic princess, David.”

Oh, that might have been ni- funny, it would have been very funny.

It would have been nice to see himself in so much makeup because it would have enhanced how funny the entire situation was.

Which it is right now – funny.

When he doesn’t answer, Zanna knocks him gently with her elbow.

“I’m joking, you clod. You’ve got a perfectly normal face going on. The old ladies in Sainsbury’s will live.”

The idea of leaving the house like this – whatever this looks like – sends a jolt of ice down his spine. It’s an electric feeling that he doesn’t know how to place. It sits deep in his chest in a way that almost hurts. Somehow he’s not sure that it’s a bad hurt.

He forces himself to laugh, though it comes out a little mechanical. If Zanna notices, she is too busy trying to drag the eyeliner across his face in a straight line to comment.

“What’s the point then? Go big or go home, eh?”

-

“Et, voila! What d’you think?”

He looks himself in the eyes and a jolt of panic runs the entire way through his body.

Oh God.

It’s a thin pane of glass in the Pennykettle’s bathroom, but David is half convinced that if he reaches out, his hand will pass straight through the frame.

That’s not him. It can’t be.  

He watches himself crumple before he feels it happen, and once he cracks, the entire thing goes.

Zanna’s arm wraps around his middle, and she starts to pull him gently away from the mirror. David’s feet are cemented to the tile, they continue to stare over her shoulder at the reflection. They’re not convinced they could look away if they tried, as if some ancient magic has bound them to the spot, encased them in ice.

Their reflection is crying. Zanna brushes a hand through their hair carefully.  

“Hey.” She says softly. “We can take this off, if you want.”

She’s already leaning for the makeup wipes when David’s head shakes.

“It’s not that…” Their voice catches, much smaller than it ever has been before. “It’s not bad.”

Then what is it?

The eyeliner has tracked all the way down to David’s chin now, and Zanna wipes away the offending drop before it can stain their jumper. Only when she blocks the mirror fully from view does David look back to her.

“No?” she asks. She’s whispering, like this moment is something that could be broken by a raised voice. David’s not so sure that’s wrong. They find themself leaning minutely towards Zanna. “Then what is it?”

“That’s me.”

The waves finally crash to shore.

It washes over Zanna quickly, and David watches as the words hit them both full force. Her eyebrows arch, and the whites of her eyes widen around her dark irises. But just as quickly, any surprise is gone.

“Oh.” She whispers. “Oh, love.”

-----

[Tam vs Lucy. After winning at the battle of Isenfier, everyone bickers. Tam suffers. (yoinked from larger wip about the fallout of Isenfier) 576 words (June 2024)]

Tam blinked to clear his head. Right…

“The… cat.”

Lucy frowned in that vicious way that all teen girls seemed inherently skilled at.

“She’s a girl now: keep up, Tam!”

He raised his hands in mock-defence, “Right, sorry. And this girl is… our problem why, exactly?”

Lucy huffed again, as though she thought Tam was being particularly dense. Perhaps he was, but he rather thought he was owed a little more leniency on account of only recently having been un-buried-alive. God forbid he be a little behind on his dragon apocalypse lore.

“She’s one of us. She stays.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest and jutted her chin in Tam’s direction indignantly. “There’s room in the car, anyway.” She added, as though that was that.

Tam chose to ignore that this was his car, and that it was rapidly going to become a tight squeeze if they continued to adopt every miscreant they encountered in the West Country. Surely ‘Bella’ had family, somewhere? She hadn’t always been a cat - right? - and therefore didn’t really have to become their problem. Though, undeniably, it was difficult to argue with the rapidly deflating look on her face; if she started to cry Tam wasn’t sure he’d be able to argue. Perhaps someone could lay in the boot if it got too cramped. Maybe Zanna would do him a favour and knock him out before he had to do the tetris-ing himself.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr Tam.” Bella said, as if Tam had anything to do with the offer. Lucy gestured wildly and with finality to indicate that everything had, obviously, been sorted.

Zanna and David were exchanging looks to the side. “We’ll discuss this in the morning,” Zanna eventually settled on, “No one’s going back to Scrubbley tonight anyway.”

Lucy started.

“Why not? We have to tell mum that everything’s okay – she needs to know it worked and that the ix are gone and-”

David clapped her on the shoulder, having to look up a little to counteract Lucy’s lankiness.

“It’s fine, squirrel. We’re all going to have a chill evening to cool down from saving the world, and let Liz know over the phone not to expect us back yet-” He pat his chest, where the inner pocket of his jacket sat, and blanched. “With the phone I don’t have anymore… where the hell has that gone?”

David let go of Lucy’s shoulder and began to check the rest of his numerous pockets. It was a bizarre interpretation of the dance Tam’s father had done every few feet when he walked through an airport. After smacking enough of his clothing and finding them bereft of his beaten up mobile, David eventually gave up, slicking a hand through his hair and sending dust and soil through it in dark streaks.

“Well, that’s somewhere. Never mind, I’ll call her at the lodge.”

Tam patted at his own jeans and was, for a moment, fooled by a particularly hard wad of dirt. He was forced to admit that he too had lost his phone. It was going to be a damn pain to replace.

“There’s not going to be any electricity at the BnB. This entire place is shredded.” Tam said, as he certainly didn’t have a phone of his own to offer.

“I’m sure I can figure something out.” David said.

Zanna rolled her eyes.

“Why do I hate the sound of that?”

-----

[Sophie & Zanna, end/post book 2, reflecting on the whole ‘wait is this cheating??’ situation (no it’s not, it’s Zanna having a big gay crush on Sophie that she will never completely recover from/come to terms with). They should’ve made out 😔. 277 words (November 2024)]

“Sorry, I – I didn’t know. About you and David.” Once she’d said it, Zanna wasn’t strictly sure it was true. She’d known David had a girlfriend; she just hadn’t cared. It didn’t seem that David had either. She felt herself flushing at the thought, well aware that she’d been caught in the act.

“No harm no foul.” Sophie said, an easy smile on her cherry pink lips. Her eyes crinkled at the corners – the irises very blue, like syrup dripped through ice. She didn’t seem to care in the slightest that Zanna had been enabling her boyfriend to cheat on her. “I was on my way to break up with him officially and we were pretty much over in October. You’re not on my territory, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Sophie’s territory truly hadn’t concerned her at all – clearly – but Zanna still felt offbeat, an uncomfortable sweat building at her forehead. Sophie was far too calm about the entire affair, her straw blonde hair tied back in a ponytail low at the base of her neck, strands tickling her face. She brushed one away with her knuckles and brought her hand back to rest in her coat pocket. There was a security in the way she stood – relaxed, unbeaten by the breeze.

Zanna tucked a loose braid behind her ear, the beads and charms clinking in uneven tones.

“It wasn’t his idea.” She found herself saying regardless, feeling like a child at confession. “I kissed him first.”

Sophie’s eyebrows quirked curiously. Her smile widened, top lip curling away from her teeth. She inclined her head gently. “I would imagine so. He’s dreadfully slow with anything romantic.”

[anonyanonymouse]

🙈

[desastre-fag]

i love that i gaslight myself when my feelings get hurt. im like no you are being a major pussy right now !!! instead of just being like ok yea that hurt my feelings and im allowed to feel that way.

[apollosdrunkenmixup]

From what I understood of a two hour mutual infodump (I received kratos: god of war lore, he received greek myths)

Kratos is god of war bc he killed Ares (and a lot of other people/gods).

In better news no one is gonna tell the gods about this fuckup of a post bc you’ve assigned Hermes to a comedy club instead of his usual messages lol

this website’s easy watch. *dangles a bunch of greek gods like keys*

[dropespeon]

something that fascinates me is the different sorts of aus different fandoms are drawn to. like i see a lot of canon divergent aus for isat, but then with other things like orv it's mostly different settings (classic fantasy aus and such). and then there's whatever the bnha fandom has going on where they just make the protagonist a completely new character

[godmadeaterribleerror]

It's Been Calling Me

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, light angst, shameless smut (oral f receiving, p in v sex), fluff, soulmates, dreams, told over many years, no use of y/n

Summary/Warnings: You've had these… dreams. Strange, realistic, detailed dreams of the same man, almost your whole life. But they're just dreams. You've been so sure, for so long, that they're just dreams.

So sure, until you're not.

Author's Note: I love this one. I love using fake Marvel science logic. I love putting sad men in situations where they can't escape love. I love semi-linear storytelling. Enjoy!

Word Count: 10.9k

“I get… dreams.” You mumble, staring at an odd point over Dr. Raynor’s head. It’s always better than looking her in the eyes. “They’re weird.”

“The very nature of dreams is to be strange.” You can see the shrug of Raynor’s shoulders, hear the neural expression that must be on her face. “Although if you feel they’re worthy of note-“

“They are.” 

Raynor hums. She’s probably raising her brows. You still won’t look.

“You sound quite certain of that.”

“I am.” You tuck your knees up to your chest, frowning at the air. “It’s- They’re not new.”

“Ah.” Raynor pauses, then says your name. In the gentle but firm therapist way that you really hate. It makes you feel like a child. “This conversation may be easier if you would look at me.”

“No thanks, I’m-“

She says your name again. A little harsher. “We’ve discussed this. You’re here of your own volition-“

“That’s not true.” You mutter. “Court-ordered isn’t volition.”

“Well you could’ve chosen the inpatient ward.” Raynor’s shrugging again. “Look at me.”

You let out a long breath, and meet her gaze. You’d been right. She was raising her brows.

“Good work.” She gives you a tight-lipped smile and small nod of approval. “Tell me about these dreams.”

It takes a minute to find the words. Not because you don’t have them, but because you’d never expected to use them. You’ve rehearsed them in the mirror a million times, but they always sounded insane, and you didn’t need another reason to be called crazy.

“I’ve had them my whole life.” It’s easiest to start there. “But it’s- they’ve changed. Over time.”

“Changed how?”

“It’s hard to explain-“

“Try.”

You scowl. “I am trying, Christina, but there’s kind of a lot to say-“

Raynor sighs, giving you the patented look of disapproval that you might hate more than how she says your name. “How about telling me when they started. Is that do-able?”

It takes a long, deep breath, but you nod. “I was- I think I was ten. I fell asleep, and it was the first dream I’d ever had. The first one that I remembered when I woke up. It was…” You swallow, and there’s a sting in your nails as you rip more skin away. “Really vivid.”

——

This isn’t your body. It’s too big, too tall, and you’re not nearly strong enough to rip a door off its hinges. This body is sprinting across ice without ever breaking pace or falling flat with a crunch. You can’t even walk up stairs without tripping over thin air.

But this doesn’t really feel like a body at all. It feels like a shell, or tool. Hollow and pressed down, moving so mechanically you’d think it was a machine if you couldn’t hear its heartbeat in your ears. There’s a lot of pain in it. Strangely numb pain, as if the owner of this body doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it, shuttering it off to the side as he moves.

You’re pretty sure it's a he. There’s hair in your eyes, but men can have long hair, and when the body’s arms swing into view they’re big and muscular. You’re also pretty sure there’s something between your legs that wasn’t there when you went to sleep.

And you can feel him. Very, very deep in your head, he’s bellowing and scraping at his own scalp. He feels like a caged animal, but this is his body. He’s roaring things that are more like feral sounds than actual words, and every time he gets loud enough for you to make out a real voice something clamps down on your skull—his skull—and it all goes quiet.

You can see another man in your line of vision. He’s on his knees, trembling and begging, but the noise is muffled and static. As if there’s a filter pushing anything coherent out of your head.

A gloved fist that’s attached to your body—but not yours to control—reaches out and grabs the man by his throat. It squeezes. 

He’s desperate. Locked down and furious, the ‘he’ who you’re possessing is almost pleading with himself to stop. 

But he doesn’t. 

And there’s a sickening snap that will echo in your ears for a long time after you wake up.

——

Raynor’s looking at you like you’re insane. You don’t love it.

“Did you…” She pauses, scanning over you with a small frown. “Did you see the hand?”

You blink at her. “Yeah, I just said-“

“Without the glove.” She clarifies. “The one that snapped the man’s neck. Did you ever see it without the glove.”

It’s an oddly specific question. And she seems to be looking for a certain answer, because in all your time of working with Raynor she’s never looked so obviously invested in a story. 

“Not for a while.” You keep your words slow, watching her wearily. “He always wore the gloves. And when he didn’t, he wouldn’t look at his hands-“

Raynor frowns. “So how did you know he wasn’t wearing the gloves?” 

“Because he knew.” You shrug. “I lived in his brain like, every night.”

“Every-“

“Night, yeah. That’s what I fucking said.”

Raynor hums, and you think she’s going to grab the notebook to write something along the lines of patient has lost her goddamn mind, but she just keeps staring at you. “You said you didn’t see the hand for a while. When did you see it?”

“When I was sixteen. The first time the dreams changed.”

“Changed from-“

“Being in his head.” You pull your lip between your teeth, weighing how much you want to reveal. Too much feels like a violation of his privacy, even if they’re your dreams. He’s a private guy, it took you years to get him to tell you anything, and if you’ve realized turns out to be the truth, you don’t want to ruin anything. “It’s- it was about six years of seeing everything through his eyes-“

“Everything?”

You wish Raynor would stop saying the word every like that. Like it’s a lie.

“All the murders.” You mutter. “There were a lot of murders.”

Raynor nods for you to continue, and you have to take a long, steadying breath.

“One night I went to sleep and he was… attacking some blond guy. We couldn’t really see his face. Then I fell asleep the next night, and it was different.”

——

You can see him. You’ve never seen him before. 

He’d never looked in a mirror, or described himself in his head for you like he’s a Wattpad character. He’s only ever been a body that moves out of your will, and a pained voice deep in your brain that didn’t seemed thrilled with what was happening either. 

But you’re not in his head, or his body. You’re standing in a bathroom—in your own body, wearing the same clothing you’d been wearing when you’d crawled into bed—and looking at him. 

He’s a lot more attractive than you’d anticipated. And you’d anticipated attractive. You’d built an image in your head of your imaginary dream assassin, basing it purely on a level of hotness that would justify all the murders he’d been up to. It had been a little fucked up, but you’d also been so goddamn sure he wasn’t real. That this was just a really odd and worrying coping mechanism for all the messed up shit in your real life. 

But he seems pretty fucking real right now. And almost impossibly handsome. Strong features that look like they’d been carved from marble, an almost hulking frame that’s somehow bigger when you’re looking at it from outside, and tangled, greasy hair that’s really working with the whole tortured expression on his face.

Because he does not look okay.

He’s gripping the sink and glowering at himself, scanning over his own face like he recognizes it less than you do. He’s bent like there’s a weight on his shoulders he doesn’t know how to shake off, and that’s impressive, because you’ve seen him pick up a car. 

The porcelain of the sink cracks, and he flinches back, looking between his hands and the rubble with wide eyes.

His eyes are blue. A really pretty blue. You’d always thought blue eyes were overrated—big whoop, you’re more sensitive to light—but there’s something silver in this man’s eyes that you really love. It feels like a deep storm you’d like to chase.

He’s really pretty. 

He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would like being called pretty, but he is. In a natural and powerful way. Like something heavenly that’s burned through the atmosphere in a dreadful fall.

Pretty face, pretty eyes, pretty hands-

Metal hand. 

One metal hand.

——

Raynor looks worried now. You wish she’d go back to thinking you’re just batshit crazy. 

“Do you-” she clears her throat, sitting a little taller in her chair. “His name. Did you ever learn his name?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Does that matter?”

“Yes.”

It’s a flat, tense answer. It makes something coil in your throat. 

“I-“ You rub your own calves, soothing yourself in the careful way you’ve always practiced. “I didn’t, for a while-“

Raynor says your name, her tone short and clipped. “Stop telling me something didn’t happen for a while. If I ask a question, it’s because I need to know the answer. Not the buildup.”

You frown. “Need to know?”

“It’s…” Raynor sighs. “It is very important that you give me a name.”

“Why?”

“Therapist reasons.”

You give her a flat look. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Yes, it is. Name.”

“If you need the name,” you say, raising your chin slightly. “You have to sit through my for a while.”

Raynor gives you a look of disbelief, shaking her head and muttering something that sounds like God, I can’t take two of them, before raising her voice. “Fine. What was for a while.”

“I couldn’t talk to him.” You explain. “For like, two years after I got out of his brain, he still couldn’t see me. When I tried to talk to him it was like I was in a- sort of a one-way mirror? And it’s not like he was just walking around telling the air I’m Bucky-“

“Bucky?” Raynor looks downright distressed. “His name was-“

“It’s Bucky.” 

He still is. He’s not a was, Bucky is.

That’s part of the problem.

“And how-“ Raynor swallows. “How did you learn this?”

“He told me.”

——

This is new. You’re not on a street or in a half-empty apartment—the two places you’ve grown most accustomed to seeing in your sleep—but in a field. A very big field with huts and brush and goats.

There are a truly staggering amount of goats.

And there he is. His hair isn’t greasy and unkempt anymore, but looks almost soft, pulled back in a half-up half-down situation that makes him look clean. His metal arm is gone, but he doesn’t seem that bothered by it. He’s standing taller than before, like the weight you’ve grown used to seeing finally has begun to lift.

His outfit is new too. It looks like something traditional and well-made, rather than the off-brand baseball hats—you too are a big fan of the American baseball team, the ‘Doggers’—and shitty polyester t-shirts.

You’re taking him and scenery in, trying to place where your brain could’ve possibly taken you this time, when he does something you’d never expected.

He turns and looks at you.

Not through you. Not around you. Not in your general direction.

At you.

He can fucking see you.

“Hello?”

You’ve heard him speak before, a few times. His voice has always been low and gruff and heavy.

It’s smooth and richer now. You don’t know if that’s because it’s directed at you—setting off small sparks over your ribs—or in relation to that vanished weight, but you like it. It suits him better.

“Hi.” You whisper, your body frozen in place as he moves forward.

He’s right in front of you. Staring at you. 

He’s always gotten prettier every time you’ve seen him. This is different.

This is knocking the air out of your lungs with just the sight of him, because there’s a light in his eyes you’ve never seen before, and it makes something deep inside of you glow.

“I’m, uh, I’m Bucky.” 

He holds out his hand, and you tilt your head at him.

“That’s a weird name.”

He blinks at you, his hand still frozen in the air. “I guess, yeah. Never thought about it. It’s just a nickname.”

“Oh.” That makes more sense. “Sorry. That’s- I just never thought you as- never mind.” 

Bucky frowns at you, opening his mouth—likely ask you what you mean by that—but you say your name and shake his hand because he gets the chance.

He has a nice hand. It warm, and calloused, and fits really well in yours. 

“Why can you see me?” You blurt, and there goes any pretense of containing the truth. 

Bucky frowns at you. “Should I… Not be able to see you?”

“You’ve never seen me before.”

“Before? What do you mean-“

“It’s- It’s weird. And complicated.”

He just stares at you, waiting for you to continue. 

You’re holding his gaze. You’ve never held anyone’s gaze before. 

It’s kind of electrifying.

“I’ve dreamt about you before.” You mumble. “And you’ve never seen me.”

“About me?”

He doesn’t sound like he believes you. You get that. It’s not really a reasonable or believable statement.

“Yeah. But you had two arms. And there weren’t goats.”

Bucky nods slowly, and seems to reach a conclusion in his brain that you don’t get to be privy to. 

It’s enough for him though. Because he gives you a small, almost nervous and apologetic smile. 

“Do you wanna, uh, do you wanna meet the goats?”

You blink at him. You’d expected more questions, or some doubt. But he’s just looking at you, something in his pretty blue eyes almost hopeful.

“Are they...” You trail off, glancing at the goats over his shoulder. “Your goats?”

“They’re community goats.” He shrugs. “But Shuri says connection with life will help my recovery, and I don’t really want to connect with people.” His voice lowers, and it sounds like he’s mostly talking to himself. “They don’t really like connecting with me.”

You don’t know who the fuck Shuri is, but you nod anyway. “So goats?”

He gives you another odd look, like he’d expected you to say something else. 

“Yeah. Goats.” 

“Did you name them?”

He frowns. “They’re goats. They don’t need names.”

You click your tongue, shaking your head. “Wrong. Everything needs a name. I named my car, and my phone.”

“You named your phone?”

“Yep.” You grin at him, and it’s a wide, teasing grin you haven’t given anyone in years. “Bertha.”

“That’s…” Bucky’s still staring at you–he seems to do that a lot—but there’s something like amusement in his eyes. “Bertha is not a good name.”

“Better than Bucky.”

He chuckles at that, and it’s a beautiful sound. Deep and heavy, like a bass drum in your chest.

It’s the sort of thing that could be addicting, if you’re not careful. Worse, it’s the sort of thing you wouldn’t mind being addicted to.

“You’re kinda mean, doll.”

“Yep.” You shrug, ignoring how ‘doll’ makes you feel fuzzy in your gut. “And I’ll be meaner if you don’t let me name your goats.”

He hums, scanning you over with an intensity in his eyes that reminds you of that storm you’d see all those years ago in the bathroom. This time, you’d like to do a little more than chase it.

You think it could be really easy to get wrecked by it. 

“Will you come back if I let you name them?”

He keeps saying things you don’t expect. Of course you’ll come back. You don’t have a choice.

But you nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Only if you promise to actually use the names.”

He nods, giving you another smile. “Deal.”

———

“Did you ever learn his last name?”

You shake your head. “I never asked. He mentioned his real name was James at one point, but then I asked why he was called ‘Bucky’ and we got off topic.”

“One… point?” Raynor’s words are slow, and you’ve really never seen her looked lost like this before. You’d be proud of yourself if it wasn’t a bad sign. “Exactly how frequently did these dreams occur?”

———

“You’re back!”

Bucky looks genuinely happy to see you. He does every night. The same surprised joy in his voice, shock always written over his face like it’s truly odd and lovely to see you here.

Like you’re not here every night, for three to four hours, standing in his little hut and wandering the fields.

You’ve worked out that you’ve put him in Africa. Wakanda specifically, likely because you’d seen it all over the news and it seemed pretty interesting. Shuri was the princess, and the guy T’challa Bucky had mentioned a few times was the King. You’d almost certainly heard their names during all those UN conferences—the ones you put on in the background just to hear some noise that wasn’t ringing in your ears—and your brain had just decided to run with it.

At least, you think it’s just your brain. You’ve always assumed this was all in your brain, because this feels like the exact kind of fucked up shit your brain would pull. And Bucky never aged. He’d never really changed, for six years. He’d had just been another way to cope for the longest time, but now—as you actually get to know him—he seems dangerously like a real person.

He looks like he broods less than when you see him hunched over a toilet or glowering at his reflection in a window. His appearance has started to shift in a way it never really had.

The metal arm has permanently departed. He seems fond of keeping his hair out of eyes, and his wardrobe finally has diversity. He talks to you, and he has a personality. An adorable, grumpy, endearing personality that would play into your idea of ‘made up in your brain’ if he couldn’t be so annoying.

He stares. He grunts a lot. He doesn’t get any of your references. If you made up an imaginary dream man to feel more loved, he would like all the things you like and hate all the things you hate.

But he doesn’t.

And it always draws you in further, because he truly does seem like just a perfectly insufferable asshole. 

That’s cruel. He’d been right. You could be mean. 

He never seemed to mind.

And he’s more like a dog anyway. One that escaped the pound and follows you around, not even bothering to beg for scraps because you offer them with a grin.

You like his company. You like his voice. You like that he’s annoying and you like more that it’s your exact type of annoying.

You like that he’s really fucking hot, and get hotter every time you visit. 

You mostly just like him.

“Of course I’m back.” You shrug, kicking a rock with the tip of your foot, watching it bounce through the dirt. “I’m always back.”

“Yeah. So far.” You see Bucky shrug in your periphery, and when you look up, he’s staring again. “Could change.”

“Won’t change.” You counter, giving him a pointed look. “Sorry, Buck. You’re stuck here until I die.”

That’s the first time you’ve called him Buck. He tenses for a moment, seems to shake something physically off his body, and nods slowly.

“Should I be worried about you dying?”

“Not right now, no.” You hum. Another rock gets kicked. “Death doesn’t agree with me.”

He chuckles. “Don’t think it agrees with anyone, doll-“

“Shut up.” Third rock. This one hits a goat, and you cringe slightly. “Shit. Sorry, Bubble McBubbleface-“

“Bubs will be.” Bucky rolls his eyes, moving to your side. He’s standing really close. You can almost feel a phantom heat from his body. “And I still can’t believe you talked me into that name. I had to tell the king of the damn country that his goat was named Bubble McBubbleface.”

You giggle, and Bucky shoots you a glare.

“You think that’s funny? I had to like pretend it was my idea,” he grumbles your name, and you always like how he says it. Like it’s some sort of answer. “I had to look the council of elders in the eyes and tell them that Bubble McBubbleface got Lady Gaga pregnant-“

Your eyes widen. “You let the goats get pregnant?”

“Course I let them get pregnant, doll.”

“But-“

He gives you a dry, amused look. “Would you rather I interfere? You want me to cockblock Bubs?”

You blink at him. “You know what cockblock means?”

Your brain had given him the personality of an eighty-year-old man. You don’t know why, but you stopped asking questions like “why” and “what” a long time ago. You just know that he shouldn’t know what cockblock means, for consistency.  

“Of course I know what it means. You taught it to me.” He winks at you, and you’re pretty sure you’re flushing.

This is meant to be a dream. You shouldn’t be able to flush, or feel a little flutter and hum in your heart, or something molten in your gut when he leans a little further forward to grin down at you.

This seems less like a dream every night.

You’d be worried about that if you had the energy, or foresight, or care.

“Are goats births gross?” You ask, and he chuckles again. The sound has started to inflict a sort of high on your brain, and every color in this dreamworld seems brighter. 

“They’re fucking disgusting.” He leans a little further down. You have to stare at his nose to pretend the proximity isn’t going to make your fall over. “But if you let me show you one in here, I’ll let you name the babies out there.”

You nod kind of stupidly, the whole world shifts into a barn—goat births are disgusting, but Bucky gets a look of intense focus you’d like to see re-aimed in your direction—and four months later Bucky tells you little Oz The Great and Powerful, Donald Duck, and Pants McPantsface have been welcomed into the world.

———

“So you’d see him in… Wakanda.” Raynor takes another long breath. If you didn’t think it would make everything worse, you’d tell her to try some deep breathing exercises. “Did the location ever change? Did you witness any more of those murders from before?”

You feel something spark in your chest like an electric wire, and you sit a little taller. You haven’t seen Bucky kill anyone since you’d been trapped in his brain. He’s a good man. And, as far as Raynor knows, a figment of your imagination. She has no right to fucking imply-

“It’s important that I know,” she says slowly, and you think your oddly blinding and righteous anger had been painted all over your face. “So I better understand what’s been happening to you. Please,” she says your name, leaning somehow further forward in her seat. “Answer my questions.”

You nod, letting out a slow exhale. “No murders. But he did start coming into my brain.”

Raynor frowns at you. “Was he not always-“

“Not like this.”

———

“This is new.”

You whip around, taking a stumbling step back that would’ve landed you on the floor, had Bucky not looped his one arm around your waist.

“Hey, doll. Pleasure seeing you-“ He frowns, glancing around your apartment. “Where the hell am I?”

You don’t answer, only reaching up to touch his face. His beard is soft. His hair is softer. When you trace the line of his nose it does feel like a nose, and when you poke his cheek it seems pretty cheek-like- 

“What, uh,” Bucky say your name, scanning over your face with concern. “What’s happening here.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.” You whisper, poking his cheek again. Just to be sure. “You’ve never been here before.”

“Yeah, figured that one out myself-“

“No.” You shake your head, placing one hand on his chest. It fits well there, slotting right over muscle and warm skin. Every part of him seems to fit perfectly against you, and you’ve never been this close before, but you don’t have any urge to move away. “You don’t get it, Bucky. You’ve never been here. It’s been ten years, and you’ve never been here.”

“I know, doll. Doesn’t seem like there’s much to-“ He pauses, giving you an odd look. “Ten years?”

“Yeah.” You mumble. There’s not much else to say.

He just stares at you, and shakes his head slightly. “Huh. You gonna tell me where I am?”

“My apartment.”

“Your-“ He starts slightly, but you never shake in his arms. “You live in this place?”

You nod, and he pulls you to your feet, scanning over your home. 

The silence wraps around your heart and lungs, and the room is spinning slightly. You’re asleep. You’re pretty fucking sure you’re asleep. You locked the door, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed, so you’re asleep. Bucky’s never been here before, but he’s not really here because this is a dream and he’s not real.

You think. 

You wouldn’t bet on that anymore, though.

And nothing has ever been as important as Bucky liking your room, because the longer he just scans over the space around you the more your skin heats, the more your eyes blur, the more your throat constricts and your heart aches and pounds-

“It’s very… you.” He finally says, and every bit of nerve vanishes into the air.

He’s right. You’ve been very deliberate in making sure your home is yours.

And you’re not sure why you bothered worrying at all. He fits here, just as well as he fits in every other part of you.

“Can I get the grand tour?” He raises his brows, and you nod, leading him through your space, making jokes and feeling your heart do a little flip and spin whenever he chuckles.

And things always do change. Frequently out in the real world, and carefully and easily in here.

And at least with Bucky, the change seems adaptive. You grow, he grows with you, until you’re twined and rooted into each other, and every color in this dreamscape is so vivid it’s the only thing that still tells you:

None of this is real.

———

“It was split after that.” You say. ”Half the dreams in Wakanda, half in New York.” 

You’re watching Raynor carefully. Still on the edge of her seat, legs braced like she’s ready for a fight, a tight expression on her face that Bucky calls the moose in headlights expression.

———

“You got that moose expression again, doll.”

You frown at him. “Stop calling it that, it’s just my face-“

“No. Your normal face has a dimple here, and your brows rest like that.”

He’s touching you as he explains, moving your features to match his words. You’d smack his hand away if his touch wasn’t soothing and flaring all at once. If you didn’t really love the idea of him looking at you long enough to know exactly how to adjust your face, and how to be right about it.

“But it’s not like that now.” He finishes, giving you a pointed look. “You got moose-face.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Moose-face is worse, Bucky. And it’s still not a real thing-“

“Yeah it is. Most people got a moose face.” He shrugs. He’s staring again. It’s taking a lot of effort not to melt forward into him. “Tight expression. Like a deer in headlights, but they think they’re too good to be in the headlights. They’re gonna go down fighting.”

“Oh.” You tilt your head, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “Can I see your moose face?”

“I don’t have a moose face-“

“Liar.” You poke his ribs, narrowing your eyes. “You said everyone has one-“

“I said ‘most people.’” Bucky shrugs. “Moose face means you’re gonna get hit, you just don’t believe it yet. I know how to not get hit.”

“Sounds like something someone with a moose-face would say.”

He chuckles. You’re sitting down, and you’re going to fall over. “No luck, doll. I got other faces, but no moose face.” He frowns at the air. “Never could afford to have one.”

There’s suddenly something heavier in his eyes, and it makes your whole body feel wired and heavy. It’s suffocating and crushing and rotten, and it’s just an expression but everything feels worse when you see it—when his shoulders hunch and his face becomes set like stone, just like all those years ago in the bathroom—so it needs to stop right now. 

“What about a wolf face?”

Bucky blinks at you. “What.”

“You said no moose face.” You cross your arms, raising your chin slightly. “Do you have a wolf face?”

“I don’t know what that is-“

“So suddenly you’re the only one who’s allowed to make up expressions?”

You hold is gaze for a long second—you’ve gotten really good at doing that, but only when you’re dreaming of Bucky—until his lips twitch slightly.

And everything feels alright again.

———

“How much of New York appeared in your… dreams? Was is like Wakanda, where you wandered?”

You frown at the air. Raynor’s indulging in this, but not like you’d hoped. Not shutting you down or telling you that you’re crazy. You’d really hoped to hear some validation that you were just plain crazy.

“Not really. I mean, there was one night where we were at my job, a few at the coffee shop I usually go to, and maybe like, five at the park, but we were mostly my apartment when I was showing him stuff.”

“And what did you-“ Raynor’s whole body tenses, and the last part of her question is pushed through her teeth. “What did you show Bucky?”

You flush, your gaze dropping down to your hands. “Stuff. In my apartment.”

———

You don’t know exactly what gives. What straw completely desolates every single bone in your body, and ends with you here.

Maybe it was that you’d finally mentioned all the murders, and you’d never seem him look horrified before, but the sight has dislodged something along your ribs that hadn’t mended until he let you move his head to your lap. Stroking his hair as he stared at you, telling him about your day.

Maybe it’s that you always tell him about your day. That this—whatever this is—has shifted from trading teasing comments and trying to learn about each other, into pure and comfortable understanding, and now that’s how most nights are spent.

Bucky’s reports are short. The goats are being goats—that’s all they know how to do—he doesn’t like a song someone tried to make him listen to because it’s too loud, and Shuri brought him some food that made his face feel like it was going to fall off, but in a good way. You pretty sure he only gives them because you insist upon it, but he always puffs out his chest a little at the end, when you smile at him and start to tell him everything you can remember about your own day.

Maybe it’s how he always hangs onto your every word. Like it’s gospel or scripture, and to do anything but listen and watch would be a higher sin than any blood you’ve imagined on his hands.

And maybe that’s it. 

Maybe it’s how you really don’t believe it anymore, when you remind yourself that he’s not real. That he’s just a figment of your mind, manifested to evolve as you do and always be exactly what you need. 

You still tell yourself the lie, night after night.

But you’re certain it’s a lie. That Bucky is just like that. Meant to be here, with you, the exact same way you’re supposed to be wherever he is.

And now you’re here.

You’d started it. You’d slammed your mouth to his, and he hadn’t moved. There had been a brief moment where you’d been worried you’d made a mistake, but the second you’d tried to push back on his chest and apologize, he’d kicked into gear. 

And wet dreams are supposed to be hazy. Cast in a misting light and more of a halo that brings your body high than an actual, nameable feeling.

But you can really feel this. 

And it’s heaven.

You’d expected Bucky to kiss slowly. Deliberately. It’s how you’d always seen him move and speak, and you hadn’t been against the idea of being kissed in a methodical and careful way.

You’ve never been happier to be wrong.

Bucky kisses you like you’re air and water and every good thing in the world. All passion and spit and burning desire, where you can feel every bit of want in his movements. His mouth is demanding as he traces his tongue over your teeth and groans your name down your throat, his arm snaking around your waist to hold you steady against his chest. When his knee presses between your thighs you have to wrap your arms around his neck for balance, and it’s all you can do to return ever bit of want he throws at you as he walks to backwards to your mattress.

It takes effort to pry your mouth from Bucky’s. He doesn’t want you to go, even a few inches, and when you start to palm him through his pants—smiling against his lips and squeezing his bulge in a silent request—he hisses against your lips.

“You-“ He groans, nipping at your lower lip as you smile, repeating the movement. “You don’t- Shit, doll, you don’t know what you’re doing to me-“

You hum, bumping your nose with his and swaying in his hold. “Maybe. I’d like to do more.”

Bucky chuckles, and the sound rolls right into your core. “Think you could take more, sweetheart? Cause I’ve been a gentleman, but if more is on the table-“

It’s easy to cut him off with a heavy, deep kiss that has him half growling down your throat and his hips jerking against your movements.

“Want more.” You whisper, combing your free hand through his hair and trying to pull yourself impossibly closer. “Want you.”

Bucky tenses against you, and when you lean back to meet his eyes he’s staring again. Looking at you like you’re glowing, kneading your skin under his hand like he’s checking that you’re not going to vanish. 

“You want me.” He mutters, scanning over your flushed face. “You sure about-“

“Yes.” You nod, giving him a small, soft smile. “Only if you do, obviou-“

Bucky cuts you off with another bruising kiss, and before you know what’s happening he’s lowering you onto the mattress, kneeling between your legs, and shoving your thighs apart with a wolf-like grin.

You don’t know when you ended up naked. You can’t really care though, because Bucky shoves his face right into your pussy, and your mind empties of all thoughts that aren’t his name. 

It’s another point in favor of this being a dream. Bucky’s mouth against your cunt feels so amazingly real—licking and biting and eating you out like he’s been starved for a hundred years—but this has to be a dream, because no real man has ever made you feel this good. He knows every single way the plunge his tongue in and out of your pussy until you’re squeezing your thighs around his head and tugging at his hair, and his beard scrapes and tickles at your thighs in a way that’s driving you out of your mind, and fuck, he keeps moving his attention to nip at your clit, sucking it between his lips and letting his teeth graze against you, and-

“Bucky-“ You moan, grinding shameless into his face, trying hopelessly to remain upright with one hand, your fingers fisted into the sheets below you. “Please- I’m gonna- Fuck, I’m so close-“

He growls against you, flatting his tongue against your clit and squeezing his hand on your thigh, and that does it. You cum with a scream of his name, warmth washing over your body as your knees clamp around him and your eyes roll back in your head.

He’s ruined you. All Bucky did was eat you out in a dream, and you’re panting and flushed and drunk on him. You don’t know how you’ll manage to move on from this in real life.

You don’t really care. Not as Bucky runs his hand over your dripping, fluttering cunt with a look of open awe on his face, presses a kiss right over your clit that makes your hips jerk, and moves to his feet.

He’s naked now too. 

And he’s perfect. 

His cock is big and thick, standing at proud attention and jerking slightly as you run a hand up his thighs, your fingers trailing over his balls and a little drool falling out of your lips as you lean to take him in your mouth-

Bucky’s hand tangles in your hair, pulling you back to meet his eyes.

He looks just as wrecked as you feel. Chest heaving and eyes blown with lust. You’re going to lose your mind.

“Bucky-“

“Not now.” He mutters, pulling you a little further back. “Need to be inside of you, doll. Please.”

You’d have to be insane to say no.

You crawl back on the mattress, spreading your legs in silence invitation, and something hot and powerful flashes in his eyes as he takes you in. 

“You-“

“I’m sure.” You squirm in the sheets, running your hand between your legs and starting to rub your clit in slow, strong circles. “God, I’m so fucking sure, please-“

He’s shockingly fast for such a large man. It might be the whole dream thing, but you barely register him moving to kneel over you, swatting your hand away with a darkened gaze a set jaw.

“I do that,” he grunts, running two fingers up and down your cunt, smirking at you high whine. “Legs open, doll, want to see how wet I’m making you.”

You nod, falling flat on your back, and pour all your focus into his order. “Fuck, Bucky-“ He shoves the fingers into your pussy, and your back arches off the bed. “Shit- I- Please-“

“You want my cock?” He drawls your name, and you can only nod dumbly at the ceiling. “Come on, tell me you want it-“

“Want it,” you gasp, hugging your body as he starts to pump his finger, crooking them at the exact right spot deep inside of you. “Fuck, Bucky, you said- You said you’d fuck me-“

He clicks his tongue. “I said I’d be inside of you-“

“But- But I want you to fuck me.” You start to roll your hips as his pace picks up. “Please, Bucky-“

You whine as his fingers vanish, leaving you clenching around only the air, but it’s a short-lived pain.

Bucky slams into you with one thrust, and you’d been wrong again.

He hadn’t ruined you. He’s destroyed you.

You’ve never been so full in your life. You’ve never been fucked like this in your life. With a fervor that should be painful, but just makes you feel wanted. Cared for. Bucky’s every thrust is brutal and rough, and his mouth on yours is that same feral kiss from before, but he’s pressed his body over yours like he’s trying to shield you from the world, and he’s groaning your name down your throat like it’s a hymn.

You’d say his name too, if you could remember how to speak. But Bucky’s hitting every right spot deep in your pussy, and you’re so high the world is just color and light and Bucky, and when he starts to suck and kiss a line down your throat, along your collarbone, and over your tits, you’re sure you’re going to fly out of your skin.

Then he takes your nipple into his mouth, and the sound you make is almost inhuman. Your release crashes over you like a wave, Bucky groans against your breast as you squeeze around his cock, and a burning warmth coats your thighs and cunt as he cums with a roar.

You make a small noise of content as Bucky pulls out, kissing a soft line back up your jaw before dropping his brow to yours and letting out a long, slow breath.

“That was…” He trails off, moving his hand to hold your hips, drawing firm patterns with his thumb that might drive you out of your mind.

“Yeah.” You whisper. “It was.”

He nods, and neither of you move for a really long time. Usually you’ve woken up by now, but no part of you is eager to go, eager to leave where there’s still a little buzz in your heart from the pleasure, where you can feel a perfect ache between your legs and you’re so happily trapped under the warmth of Bucky’s body-

Happy. 

You’re happy. 

This isn’t real, but under Bucky’s body you’re safe and warm and happy. And you don’t want to go. 

Almost as if he can read your mind, Bucky clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He mutters, his breath hot and soft over your ear. “Needed this.” There a long pause, and his hand squeezes on your hips. “Needed you. And I know it’s dumb to thank you, because-“

“It’s not.” You cut him off with a kiss to his neck, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “And I needed you too.”

He lets out a dry laugh that you don’t understand, but doesn’t push on it. Just kisses your brow and rolls onto his back, taking you with him and clinging to you like you’re a tether to something a little more important than just a dream.

And you really don’t know why he’d laughed. 

You do need him. You’re growing more and more certain every night that you need Bucky more than you need anything in real life. That he’s more than anyone else, and that he maybe, possibly, could be real.

He feels real, beneath you with a calloused hand squeezing at your skin and your finger tracing over the scars near his arm. 

He sounds real, when you finally ask why he only has one arm, and he takes a very long breath but mutters that he fell off a train. When he tells you that bad people found him, and he wasn’t really the best guy either, for a really long time. 

He tastes real when you kiss him for comfort, and smells real when you bury your face in his neck as he continues. 

You know he’s not telling you everything, but you also know he’s not lying. 

And you really do know that, in some strange and impossible way, this might be real.

———

“I see.” Raynor swallows, and she won’t stop staring at you. “Did those, ah, occurrences happen again?”

You nod, staring at your hands. “Pretty much every time after.” A smile tugs at your lips. “One time we used the barn.”

“I-“ Raynor sighs. “Understood. How long, exactly, did this continue?”

“They never stopped, not until-“ Your nails dig into your skin, and a heavy stone lodges itself in your throat. “The, uh, the blip.”

———

These have been the worst five years of your life. And they haven’t been amazing for anyone, but no one else has to feel this like you do.

And that’s selfish. A little narcissistic. Incredibly crude.

But it doesn’t make it any less true.

Because everyone lost people. Everyone watched loved ones vanish right in front of them, witnessed the world fall and crumble around them as half of humanity vanished, and got left in the rubble to pick up the pieces. 

But no one else seems to feel this. Nobody else seems to be falling apart at the seams from nothing at all like you are. Because Bucky was probably never real. But he’s gone. 

And you don’t know how to move on.

It’s odd to grieve a dream. It makes living impossible. You go to all the support groups and listen to everyone share their own pain, and it makes your heart ache for them but nothing in you ever seems to heal. It’s as if a piece of you had been ripped out and ground to ash, and mending over it would be blasphemous. You don’t want to fix it. You need to, because this is no way to exist, but it feels wrong every time you try. As if even your body can’t just admit he’s gone, and you need to keep going. But everything feels artificial. Every breath is mechanical, and every beat of your heart feels shallow and deliberate, like it’s only doing just enough to keep you alive.

What’s worse is that you can’t tell anyone why you’ve become a sunken, hollow shell. You’d sound insane. You’re already not winning any points in the sound of mind department, and you do have a record, so if you went to one of the countless therapists who have been making their living off of everyone’s loss and said ‘see, doctor, the person I loved only existed in my dreams, but he vanished with the snap and now it feels like I’ve been cleaved in half’, you’d be locked up in an asylum.

You hate that you’re only realizing it now. That the overwhelming sense of warmth and peace you felt in your dreams with Bucky was love. That you’d fallen in love with a piece of your own mind. You’d basically fallen in love with your reflection. Your annoying, handsome, grumpy reflection that you’d rip your spine out of your body to reshape it back into his form, to bring him back to your side.

And the dreams still happen. He’s just not there, and it’s the worst thing in the fucking universe. You keep coming back to a forest, and there’s a little ash that’s always drifting around in the air, that feels really important.

It all always feels like more than just Bucky being gone. It feels like you’ve missed a train, or taken a wrong turn, and lost a key that double as a compass, and now you’re stranded at the bottom of the ocean. 

Alone. 

You’ve spent your whole life with only yourself to rely on, but you’ve never felt more alone.

———

“And after the blip?”

“He came back.” You’re going to cry. You really hate crying in front of Raynor—she always tells you it’s going to be okay, and you fucking know that—but you can’t stop it. Because Bucky really did come back, and it’s still the best thing that ever happened to you.

———

During the past five years, your sleep has gotten fucked. You get about four hours a night, because that’s just long enough to keep you functional but too short to allow you to appear in the forest.

So it took a while to pass out. You’d curled up in your bed, drank tea, done yoga, followed every ‘how to fall asleep fast’ internet guide until your eyes drooped, and you were gone.

When the dream takes shape around you, you’re not in the forest, but in a sleek, hospital-like room that you don’t recognize. 

And he’s there. 

Bucky’s right fucking there.

You make a small, choked sound, and his eyes shoot to yours in an instant. 

He’s moving in a second. Half launching across the room to grab you before your knees give out, holding you to his chest as you cling to his shirt and press your face into his neck. 

“Hey,” he mutters your name, and you can hear the low horror in it. He’s putting together why you’re crying. Why you’re scratching at his neck and trying to half climb up his body. “You’re alright. It’s all good, doll, everything’s good now-“

You cut him off with a long, heavy kiss, and his hand moves to cup your head. 

He has two hands again. You don’t really care why.

Because Bucky’s rubbing circles on the skin of your waist, and letting you cry without making a big fucking deal about it, and nothing mended. Nothing’s ever mended. You’ve been a little fucking broken for a long time, with or without Bucky. But it had been a kind of broken that had folded and shaped with him, and when he’d been gone it was like half your organs had been frozen and crumbled in your body.

But he’s back. And you feel real again.

———

There’s a long silence in the air, and you know what’s coming. The question. You’ve known she’s going to ask it the whole time—you’d honestly expected it a lot sooner—and you’ve been prepared. You have a very long speech about how Bucky had changed again—short hair, kept the new arm, appearing in his own, mostly empty apartment and trading the Wakandan clothing for jeans and jackets—and that he’d told you how much he hated some guy named John. 

He’d said he despised the asshole. That he was everything Steve had hated—you’d had a pretty good idea who Steve was, based on context and a theory but you hadn’t be quite ready to it yet—and nothing sounded better than punching his lights out. 

And you’re ready to explain that you’d had the news on in the background, a few words had broken from static background noise, and your whole world had shifted. John Walker had been announced as the new Captain America, they’d run a stupid little fluff piece on the life of Steve Rogers, and there was Bucky. Captain America’s best friend and ally, the assumed cause of that whole the Avengers are breaking up thing, and the former Winter Solider. 

You’d mostly stared at the screen for a really long time as everything feel into place—you’d looked him up after, and it was a little embarrassing it had taken you this long given that he has a Wikipedia page—before calling Raynor, and preparing for the question.

But when she asks it, your mind goes blank, and all you can’t think to say is the truth.

“May I ask,” Raynor says carefully. ”Why are you only discussing this now?”

“Because he’s real.”

———

Bucky has dreams. Not nightmares.

Dreams.

He dreams about Her. She’s the only constant in his life, the only solace and purely good thing he knows, and She’s not even damn real.

Bucky’s pretty sure She’s not real. It wouldn’t make any sense for Her to be real. He’d spent most of the years assuming that She was simply a result of him being able to dream again, a trick of his mind that was both a comfort and a torture, because he needed those dreams—needed Her, in a strange way that lived in his chest and was soft on his skin—more than he’d ever needed anything, but they also reminded him of what he’d never have.

A life in a simple apartment, filled with his own presence in a way that was easy. He always loved that about Her apartment. How everywhere he looked, She was there. The colors and furniture and posters and trinkets on the shelves all screamed Her, and no one could ever replicate that if they tried. 

He didn’t know how to do that anywhere. How to just be him in a way that didn’t feel like something was strangling him. His apartment was barren. Every time he spoke it felt like he should be apologize immediately after, because barely anyone seemed to like him, let alone want to hear him.

Bucky understood that. He wasn’t exactly his own biggest fan, and the only time there was no part of him trying to escape his own body was when he was asleep, and She was at his side. 

He liked being himself with Her. It was simple, and natural, and never a labor. She never flinched away from him—She seemed to like being close to him—and Bucky never really wanted to wake up. Part of him always hoped that this time, when he fell asleep and She appeared once more, he’d wake up in Her apartment, and it would all be real.

A very small part of him needed this—needed Her—to be real. It would be really amazing if She was real. It wasn’t something he deserved to ask for, to plead with the universe about, but he did. He kept trying to come up with reasons She could be real.

She felt real, in his dreams. She spoke and acted like a person, and not a doll or shell his brain may have created to get him through his de-programming. She was always saying things and making references he didn’t get until she explained them, things he was certain he hadn’t heard in passing. She was way prettier than anyone Bucky had ever seen, which would contribute to Her being only a dream if he wasn’t so certain that he simply wasn’t that creative.

He could imagine a pretty girl.

He couldn’t imagine Her.

Smart and funny and gorgeous, fitting against him like She’d been molded to, teasing him in ways he’d never thought of and kind to him ways he couldn’t be kind to himself. 

She was never disgusted by the arm, and Bucky was sure that—if She was only a part of his mind given shape—she would know about the whole Winter Soldier thing. But he’d had to explain all he could to Her, and when he’d left certain, darker parts out She hadn’t said but that’s not the truth, is it, James.

She seemed to like Bucky. That was the most concrete proof he had that She had to somehow be real. Nobody liked him. Not in to raw, unrelenting way She did.

So She had to be real.

Bucky really hoped, against all odds, that she was real. 

It would fix a lot of problems if She was real. Sam kept trying to get him to date, and he didn’t want to. He always felt like he was betraying Her. It wasn’t sustainable or logical, but logic didn’t really matter here, because Bucky’s gut would wither and his hands would curl into fists every time he had to try and flirt with another woman. They didn’t fit against him as well as She did. Their teasing would either bite too hard or not bite at all, and the night would end with Bucky falling back into Her arms. 

He asked Shuri—very vaguely, he didn’t want his brain to be poked and prodded again—what reoccurring dreams could mean.

“Reoccurring?” She’d frowned at him over the video call. “You’ll have to clarify, reoccurring can mean many things.”

“Uh,” Bucky had swallowed, glancing at his mattress across the room. “A dream you have every night. And it could change, but it’s always the same person in it?”

Shuri had given him an odd look. “Have you been having a dream like that?”

“No.” His answer had been too fast. He needed to keep it together if he was going to sell this. “Sam has. He mentioned that he kept seeing some lady in his dreams, and she felt real but he’d never met her before. Thought I’d do him a favor and ask about it.”

It wasn’t the best lie he’d ever told, if Shuri look of doubt had been any indication. But she bit, and kept moving.

“Well, it looks as if Sam,” she’d given him a pointed look, and Bucky had forced his face to remain completely neutral. “Has found his soulmate.”

Bucky had stared at her for a really long time. His vision had blurred, there had been a ringing in his ears, and time had seemed to still as Shuri’s words sank in.

Soulmate.

“I thought, uh,” Bucky had cleared his throat, his voice a little hoarse. “Soulmates aren’t real-“

“Of course they’re real.” Shuri had shrugged. “Soulmate is an archaic term for two brains that emit the exact same neuroelectricity, their nerve paths aligning completely. Often they will have differing personalities and lives, but the tie of the biology will link them in sleep, and they will experience incredibly vivid lucid dreams. Like this video conference, but if our minds and bodies were built to fall in love with each other. It is rare, but not impossible.”

Bucky had frowned. “But I- uh, Sam said he’s only had these dreams about four years-“

“Sam’s brain underwent severe rewiring and torment.” Shuri’s voice had been dry, her expression flat. “He would do well to remember that his connection may have been slightly mauled, and only after a certain genius princess fixed him would he have been able to reciprocate the bond fully.”

Oh.

The first time Bucky had appeared in Her apartment, She had said ten years. When She’d appeared to him for the very first time, She’d said she’d dreamt of him before.

Bucky had assumed that had been another way his brain was comforting him. Telling him he could be the type of person a pretty girl like Her dreamed about.

But when he thought about it—clenched his jaw and drew up the heavier, blood-stained memories of the Soldier—there had sometimes been someone in his body with him. Not the Soldier, but the third presence that wasn’t hostile. Wasn’t really foreign. Just was. 

“Could the-“ Bucky had swallowed, watching Shuri carefully as he spoke. “Sam said he could sometimes feel the gal while he was awake. Is that a thing that could happen?”

“If Sam was not himself, and the soulmate was not of full maturity, yes.”

Bucky had felt himself pale. “What do you mean, full maturity-“

“You are a hundred years old, Mr. Barnes.” Shuri had raised her brows, and all pretense of Sam had dropped. “There would have naturally been a point where your soulmate was a child, as that is how most people begin their lives. It is likely that you were still under the control of Hydra in your soulmate’s youth, and she would have only been a growing presence in your mind until she was a full person, and you were no longer only the shell of a man I met after my father’s death.”

“So she- Would she have seen what I did? As the Solider?”

He knew She had. She’d told him She had.

Bucky still didn’t want it to be true.

Shuri had given him a sympathetic look. “Unfortunately, yes. She would have. But if she is what you say, she is a perfect match to you in every way. She will not care what you were before, under the control of Hydra.”

“But-“

“It is not something worth protesting, Bucky.” Shuri had sighed, leaning a little closer to the camera. “This is not something that can be severed or changed, so please do not bother to ask. And remember that she is real. Her own person, with her own pain. I would recommend you attempt to find her, but that is something you will have to decide for yourself.”

And now he was here. Staring at the dark screen where Shuri’s face had been moments before, his head still spinning around the word. 

Soulmate.

She’d made is sound scientific. Possible. Bucky could have a soulmate. 

He didn’t deserve a soulmate. Not one he’d likely trapped in his mind, forced to witness the brutal atrocities he’d committed as the Winter Solider.

And he wanted to find Her. Bucky wanted to touch Her and kiss her and keep her longer than just the night. To wake up and see Her next to him, tangible and all his. 

He’d liked the idea of something being his in a way that wasn’t a curse. In a way he could throw his all right back to Her, and she’d catch it. 

But there was still the sour, molding feeling over his heart that—since She was real, and probably had Her own issues to deal with—She wouldn’t want him in her life. Not Her real life, where everything was more complicate than just them in a literal dream.

He shouldn’t find Her. She’d be better off without him. Bucky would do nothing but make Her life more complicated, and he could get through this know that She was real and safe, far away from him but still haunting his dreams in the best way possible.

He was so lost in his head he misses the first phone call. And the second one.

It was the third one that got his attention—buzzing and ringing on the table next to his computer, Dr. Raynor flashing across the screen—and the fourth one he actually managed to pick up.

Bucky didn’t bother to hide the tension in his voice when he spoke. He really didn’t have the time or energy for this, not right now. “Doc, I’m not due back for another four days-“

“I’m aware, James, I keep a calendar.” Raynor sighed through the speaker, and Bucky had never heard her sound so tense. It was a little concerning. “However, I am going to have to request you come in today. It’s an emergency.”

He scowled. “What emergency, I haven’t done anything emergency worthy-“

“It’s not only about you.” Raynor snapped. “And I’m changing it from a request to an order. Office in twenty minutes.” There was a long pause, and then a whispered, “Please.”

That wasn’t good.

“Did I get in trouble?” Bucky asked, his grip on the phone tightening. “Cause I’ve been following all the stupid rules, and if Sam says I did something he’s just being a dramatic dick-“

Raynor sighed, and Bucky could picture the thin look of exhaustion on her face. “You are not in trouble, James. It’s not- I can’t explain over the phone. It may be better for you to see.”

“See what?”

“Just come to the fucking office.”

Bucky blinked, and the line went dead.

Raynor couldn’t make him go. But he also had never heard her swear like that. Or order him to come in before an appointment.

He was a little curious. And it wasn’t like he had anything else to do today but drown in the knowledge of what Shuri had told him, trying to work out how he’d face Her tonight.

So he went to the office. Chances are it was nothing. Bucky couldn’t imagine it would be something. He spent the whole ride trying to think of an idea, came up blank, and decided that Sam had mentioned something to Raynor about how Bucky had been brooding more than usual, and he was just going to have to explain the whole I’m not brooding, I’m just sick of Sam’s blind date bullshit and also maybe have a soulmate thing. Then he’s kick Sam’s ass, and everything would be fine.

Bucky entered to office with a whole speech ready. His chin raised high and his arms crossed, because he was already having a very weird and complex day, and he didn’t need this. 

All the words were knocked out of him the moment he opened the door, glanced around the room, and saw who was on the couch.

Her.

In person. 

Very, very real, and in Raynor’s office, and here.

Raynor said Her name. The name Bucky knew Her by, and her last name. 

It was a nice last name. Barnes would suit Her better, but the idea that she was real enough to have a last name was already bringing Bucky to his knees, so he’d have to save that thought for later.

“Meet James Barnes.” Raynor was probably looking between them. Bucky couldn’t be sure though, because he couldn’t stop staring at Her.

She was moving to Her feet, and seeing Her in person was somehow even better. She was sharper around the edges, and more colorful in small, bright ways, and nothing about Her felt like it could ever slip between Bucky’s fingers.

She wasn’t mist. She wasn’t an illusion, or a coping mechanism.

She was real.

Walking towards him with wide eyes and an open mouth, reaching a hand up to poke at his face. Tracing his nose and running fingers over his cheekbones, Her eyes never leaving his.

Bucky caught Her hand right as it brushed over his lips, and She made the prettiest gasp he’d ever heard.

“You’re real.” He said, because it was all he could think of. Nothing about this was a dream. Bucky would not have a dream where Raynor was watching him restrain himself from kissing Her until she collapsed in his arms.

“I’m real.” She whispered, and Her voice was better in real life too. “You’re here.”

He nodded. “I’m here.” He paused, scanning over Her open features. “Don’t think I’m going anywhere, doll.”

Her face split into a wide smile, all teeth and light and joy. For Bucky. 

There was adoration on Her face, and it was all for Bucky.

“Good.” Her smile grew, Her fingers tangling with his metal ones. “Because I’m not either.”

End Note: Save me Bucky Barnes raising goats. Bucky Barnes raising goats, save me.

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Taglist

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[rafesfawn]

🪽🧺 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋

𝜗ৎ⋆｡˚ when rafe sees a precious little doll on the side of the road with a broke-down car, how can he resist out of the kindness of his heart offering her a ride? just a ride home, that's all...

or how trailerpark!angel!reader and rafe met!

warnings: use of the nickname pet & little one, reader! is eighteen-nineteen! bit of perv!rafe, barely proofread!

a/n: first time writing a rafe fic/blurb! im so excited, also this is based on this ask and thank you so much for sending something I really appreciated it and I hope u like it mwah! I would say you two meet in like early season 2 (right before the cross storyline) also for the format slight ib to others on here esp @rafesangelita (sorry for the tag!)

this was based off of this ask! which tysm i literally love requests and rafe and trailerpark!angel!reader is my new obsession <3

a small, meaningless kick was made to the tire while you huffed and groaned, putting two hands over your frustrated features as all you wanted to curl up into a ball and cry.

“piece of shit,” you mumbled under your breath, kicking the tire once more, but immediately a whimper fell from your lips. the pain shot from your toe up to your spine. making you sniffle and tip-toe in pain. in your denim ruffle skirt, white socks, and pink converse, you sat down on the asphalt, on the side of the road, leaning against the side of your broken-down car.

she wasn’t the best car, but she surely got you around most of the time. most of the time. it was a little volkswagen beetle, light pink in color, covered in so many stickers some wondered if it was passing inspection. it wasn't.

sitting with your head against the car for what felt like hours (it was maybe ten minutes), but spending even that on the side of a main road in kildare island was torture. especially with the beating sun late august provided.

rafe was speeding down the road on the way to play golf and get drunk with topper and kelce. “ah shit, i don’t know, man.” he said into his phone, holding it up with one hand; his voice gruff and confident, topper on the other line. “you really think i won’t kick your ass today huh?” a smirk grew on his already smug expression.

letting out a short chuckle at toppers response, nothing anybody ever said meant more than a laugh to him. or that's what it used to be like anyway, his act wasn't together if anything, it was worse than it'd ever been. his father condemning him to disingenuous "discipline" to forget about the possible death of his golden daughter.

"the fuck?" he mutters into the mic, his voice laced with confusion. as he sees up ahead on the road, a pink car broken down, with the most precious thing sitting against it. a pout on the angels soft lips and the most defeated look in her eye. aw, you just fell right into my lap, didn't you? little angel.

your eyes glued on the pavement, your entertainment of watching a little ladybug try to make it to safety in the distance, was shortly interrupted.

a nice black truck coming into view it came to such a short stop it almost took your breath away, the breaks slightly screeching at the haste. a tire replaced the spot the ladybug once was.

you stood brushing the dirt and gravel off the backsides of your pale thighs, left bare by the short fabric of your skirt.

the man stepped out of the truck. he was tall, and the sleeves of his polo looked like they were about to burst at the seams, not able to contain the biceps beneath. his features strong and statue-like, his deep sea eyes hidden behind the curtain bangs that hung over his forehead. a grin that seemed too genuine, too good to be true.

you removed your heart-shaped sunglasses, placing them on top of your head to see him more clearly. your possible savior, but he was anything but.

he stepped a bit closer, seeing the state of her already pretty beaten car, "having some car trouble?" rafe asked as if he wasn't stating the obvious.

you pretended he wasn't either as you nodded, the frown only slight now but still on your lips as your eyes remained looking up into his.

"aw.. poor thing we can't have that, what happened?" his voice, a mockery of sympathy. as he inspected the piece of shit car she loved so much. his care coming from a place of ownership, of burning ache or want.

still, in slight shock, you hadn't answered him, following behind him as he reopened the hood like he owned the car. not even realizing you'd been rude and not replied till he spoke again. "little one, i can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong." a heady mix of gentle and firm that made your mouth go dry and your head dizzy.

"oh- it's been on her last limb for like ever, i guess she finally called it quits... right on my way home." you said with a little sad laugh that rafe wanted to bottle the sound of and listen to on repeat. "and I really need to get home," you added fiddling with your fingers in front of you.

a sweet girl all out of options, rafe was so glad he was here to provide her with his help. "tell you what, I'll take you home and come back and fix this thing up for you, huh?" he offered, there goes his saturday plans he presumed. it'd be worth it. he told himself he'd make it worth it, with those shy eyes and the expression you carried like a lost puppy. you'd owe him he'd make sure to get something in return.

just like he figured, you shook your head. never wanting to accept such a grand favor. "I can't ask you to do that, I mean, I don't even know your name." nerves, curiosity, and a glint of something else tinged in your voice, so many wonders in that head as soon as his truck came to a stop for you. why? the only question running through your mind.

"It's rafe, can I help you out now?" his genuine grin turned almost smug at his own remark, brushing that bangs out his face, the effort pointless as they immediately fell back again.

you paused. picking at the already chipped white nail polish on your sore fingertips, a larger-rougher hand covered your own, stopping your movements with that firm gentleness he carried around her. you looked up at him, he was so much closer. the scent of some cologne that probably could pay your rent, and a tinge of smokey wood filled your senses.

"pet?" he questioned with an expecting tilt of his head, calling you that like it was the most natural thing in the world.

your body and mouth responding before giving another second for your brain or anxiety to think it over, you nodded. "can you please give me a ride home?" you hesitantly asked, it felt weird. getting help, and even asking for it felt foreign, he offered it so graciously like it was nothing.

looking down upon her, his grin turned genuine once again, his eyes seemed almost proud it was a soothing balm to her nervous heart. a rosy hue to her cheeks as his palm covered the side of her neck, making a few pats to the flesh before leading her to his truck.

you'd owe him. something he was sure you were ready for.

[sprenthecreator]

IMPURITIES EP. 4 | Falling Away From Me

Final episode from this LSF mini-series

Male reader x Chaewon, Eunchae

9,4k words

tags: hate sex for chaewon, fluff for manchae, threesome

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If you'd known how things were going to end, maybe you would have thought twice before falling for Yunjin and Chaewon's manipulation that night in New York.

You were in the living room, sitting in your usual spot, with an iPad on which you checked schedules that apparently no one cared about anymore, your hair messy and your shirt wrinkled, thinking about how you'd lost control of everything thanks to the seeds of chaos you'd once planted and that were now weeds impossible to prune.

A year had passed since that night, and what started as a little game you thought wouldn't amount to much had mutated into the main source of your exhaustion, because the truth was that your authority had eroded to the frustrating point where none of the girls respected you like they used to.

Nah. They didn't even respect you, in general.

Much of it was solely your fault, and it was something you'd made peace with a long time ago. But the girls had been consciously pushing the boundaries ever since, knowing it was as simple as giving you pussy once in a while to get you off your butt. That way, they killed two birds with one stone: they satisfied their carnal needs, and kept you appeased.

At first, it was one-off things you didn't worry too much about, like staying out late without telling you or breaking minor rules of living together. However, when they realized you weren't making a big deal out of it, they started skipping practices, staying out all night without checking in, and seeing as many guys and girls as they pleased.

And all this while making you cover for them.

For God's sake, what the hell had all that become? It was a fucking circus, and you were the highest-paid clown in it. It had to end, and soon. Of that you were sure.

Unfortunately, your only problem was that you had no idea how to proceed. While it was true that your emotional bond with Chaewon—who was the best-behaved of all of them—was by far the strongest compared to the other girls, your relationship had soured thanks to your constant encounters with the others. If it had happened a year ago, you might have been able to address the situation with the levity it required, but now you felt like there was a sea of ​​distance between you.

And all because of jealousy, bad decisions, and the audacity of four girls in their prime.

Laughter upstairs brought you out of your reverie. It couldn't be Chaewon, since you knew she was busy with her own things at that hour, and it couldn't be Kazuha, since she was out on one of her individual photoshoots. That left you with the Three Musketeers.

It wasn't your business to know what they were laughing about, and it never had been, since it was their personal space. But for some time now, you'd been suspicious of even the smallest thing. The laughter could only mean two things: either they were laughing at something innocent, or they were committing one of their misdeeds.

Experience told you it was the latter.

With a heavy breath, you put the iPad aside and stood up, heading for some stairs you hadn't climbed in days, maybe weeks. As you climbed them, you felt a strange discomfort run through your body, knowing you were entering a domain over which your jurisdiction was now null.

Upstairs, you looked around, noticing one of the doors was wide open: the bedroom Sakura and Yunjin shared. More laughter came from there. You walked cautiously, careful not to make your footsteps creak the wooden floor as you approached. A few feet away, you frowned as a smoky smell reached your nostrils. Like... burnt grass, but more intense.

When you peeked your head around the left side of the frame, your suspicions were confirmed and even exceeded.

Sakura and Yunjin were sitting on one of the two beds, dressed in loose clothing and with their hair down. Nothing out of the ordinary until you noticed that Yunjin was holding a lit joint between her index finger and thumb. She didn't notice you were watching, so you watched as she took a quick drag, held it, and then blew the smoke into the air.

They had a long history of inappropriate behavior, but this was completely new and more serious. At least for you. And you weren't going to tolerate it.

"Can you explain to me what the fuck you're doing?!" you asked, abruptly entering the room.

They both got a bit of a shock, but relaxed—yes, they fucking relaxed—when they saw it was you.

"Oh, calm down, manager-nim," Yunjin said, dismissing it with a wave of her hand. "It's just a friendly joint, it won't hurt anyone."

Maybe you were just too irascible and irritable, but that alone was enough to make your blood boil.

"Do you do this shit outside the house too?" You raised your voice and took a step forward. "Do you know that crap can ruin your fucking career? For the love of God!" You threw your hands in the air. "What the fuck are you thinking?"

"If you don't like it, leave," Kura said, shrugging. She took the joint from Yunjin's hand. "We're adults and we know exactly what we're doing."

"And I don't think you're the one to lecture us on morals, are you?" Yunjin asked with a giggle, tilting her head. "My throat still hurts from how well you fucked my face last night."

You snorted, feeling your frustration rising in your body.

"Maybe I'm not, but I'm still your fucking manager, and I've had enough." You walked over to them, grabbing Sakura by the wrist with one hand and taking the joint from her with the other. Then you turned around to walk to the door. "Next time I'll inform the company, see if that will get you in line."

Sakura and Yunjin laughed behind you. Did you tell a joke?

"Yeah, we'll just sit here and wait for you to do it," Kura mocked. "Take your time."

"Goodbye, manager-nim!" Yunjin said to you, still giggling, as you stood under the door, biting your tongue to avoid responding.

In the end, you left the room and slammed the door behind you.

The joint in your hand was still lit, and since you didn't have a stain-resistant surface nearby to put it out, you simply let it burn in a corner of the hallway floor.

As you turned around and started walking down the hall toward the stairs, one of the doors at the far end opened. You stopped as Eunchae emerged from her shared room with Zuha, wearing headphones, a cropped T-shirt that showed off a good portion of her belly, and tight shorts.

And she was carrying a can of beer.

"Oh, hello, manager-nim," Eunchae greeted with a nod of her chin after hanging the headphones around her neck. With a defiant look, she opened the can of beer in front of you.

You clenched your fists and teeth, closing your eyes to summon whatever patience you had left after dealing with the other two.

Since becoming an adult seven months ago, Eunchae had joined the others and started acting like a rebellious brat, and she was undoubtedly the biggest pain in the ass. Not because of what she did, but because, as the maknae, everyone jumped to her defense as if she couldn't even kill a fly.

"Hong Eunchae..." you began in a low but threatening voice. "You better have a good reason for having that damn beer in your hand. You know very well we don't drink here."

Eunchae walked toward you and stopped about a meter away, leaning her weight on one leg and crossing her arms.

"I'm 18 now. I think I can do whatever I please, right?"

"You can do it outside the house. But there are rules here."

"Rules?" Eunchae chuckled. "The same rules under which you fuck my unnies over and over again?"

You were silent for a moment. You had no defense against that.

"That has nothing to do with all of you being brats in constant disobedience," you opted to say.

"If we're in constant disobedience, it's because you haven't had the courage to stand up to us," Eunchae took a step forward. "Or am I wrong? Huh?"

At your silence, Eunchae brought the beer can to her lips and took a long sip. A bit of beer trickled down the sides of her chin and slid down her long neck. Then she looked at you again, closer this time.

"I just drank," she said defiantly. "Are you going to do something about it?"

Eunchae studied you for a moment, noticing your fists clenched in rage. You were about to say something, but she got there first.

"I thought so."

Then, leaving you fuming at her insolence, Eunchae turned on her heel and walked back to her room, her hips swaying.

Definitely, you'd had enough. Something had to change, and it had to change right now. Your mind immediately went to Chaewon. She was the leader, and also supposed to be the most mature, she had to take responsibility for the behavior of her members.

Feeling steam coming out of your ears, you walked to the other end of the hallway. The door to Chaewon's room was ajar, and with your best-contained anger, you entered.

Chaewon was sitting on her messy bed, knees pointed out and feet tucked under her thighs as she scribbled in a notebook. She was wearing short pajama shorts and a loose shirt that slipped off one shoulder, and she was listening to music on her AirPods. Her gaze shifted toward you when she noticed your presence, her expression stern.

"What's wrong?" she asked me with a coldness that made your heart sink, taking out her AirPods as you closed the door behind you with a firm click.

You stood near the door and crossed your arms, feeling the full pressure of being in a place you shouldn't be under normal circumstances weighing on your shoulders. You felt like an intruder, and that's probably what she thought.

"Chaewon, this has gone too far," you finally said, your voice calm and in contrast to how irritated you felt. "The damn house is in disarray. There's no more respect, no more order. Everyone does whatever the hell they want without fear of the consequences, and honestly, I'm fucking exhausted. Do you know what Eunchae was doing? She..."

You stopped saying what you were going to say when Chaewon put her notebook and mechanical pencil aside and got out of bed with a sudden movement.

"Same thing again?" she asked, her tone cutting, taking slow steps toward you until she stopped less than a meter away. "Do you realize the way you're talking?" She tilted her head. "I'm not your fucking babysitter! When are you going to get this through your head?"

You gritted your teeth, focused on not getting any more upset than you already were.

"No, you're not the fucking babysitter. You're the leader of the fucking group, and you don't seem to care that this shit's going down!"

Chaewon let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. She turned and walked over to the desk, where she began shuffling her sheet music, something she did when she was under severe stress. Her hands were shaking.

"And what about you?" Chaewon asked without looking at you. "How can you expect to blame me when this whole fucking mess is your fault?"

"My fault?" You pointed at yourself, walking over to her side. "I've been trying to keep them in line for a damn year, and you just let them do whatever the hell they want," you were inadvertently raising your voice. "You're not using the damn authority you're supposed to have! This is your responsibility too!"

Chaewon turned to face you, her face inches from yours.

"My responsibility?!" She raised her voice too. "I'm sick of taking the fall for your damn mistakes while you..." her voice cracked. "While you fuck the others like you don't care about what I feel!"

Bingo. That's the root of the whole damn situation. The worst part is that it was also your fault for letting her get involved not only sexually with you, but emotionally as well. You liked each other, a lot. But the nature of your working relationship complicated things a lot on your end. Of course, she didn't care, and she allowed herself to feel jealous of the others.

"Chaewon... ugh!" you huffed in frustration, bringing your hands to your face. When you lowered them, your eyes wandered down to her desk, where you noticed an envelope among the sheet music with what appeared to be the HYBE logo. "What's this?"

Chaewon looked where you were looking and tried to hide the envelope, but you were quicker and grabbed it. It was, indeed, an open envelope with the HYBE logo in one corner. She tried to take it from your hands, but you covered yourself and pulled out the folded paper inside.

"You've got to be kidding me..." you muttered.

The sheet contained a notice: an anonymous complaint about LESSERAFIM's behavior, mentioning rumors of parties in nightclubs, lack of discipline, and even dating scandals, with implications for legal action if these behaviors weren't corrected.

Every ounce of patience you'd been mustering evaporated in the heat of your boiling blood. That explained everything: both the girls' audacity at seeing their actions had no consequences and Chaewon's passivity in the matter. She was hiding it.

Betrayed by the leader of the group you were leading. It had gotten to that point.

"Kim Chaewon..." you slowly lowered the sheet of paper, your gaze fixed on the floor. "You knew about this and didn't do anything to fix it?"

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Chaewon tense, completely still on her feet. You could tell she hadn't planned for you to find out.

"It's not my problem..." she said hesitantly. "If they want to come, then let them. I'm tired."

You raised your gaze to face her, frowning.

"Then let them? What the fuck are you talking about?" You shook the sheet of paper in your hand and then threw it on the desk. "Don't you realize that your passivity makes you just as guilty as the rest of us?!"

"Guilty?!" Chaewon raised her voice, her face turning red. "Of course, because you can fuck the others like common whores in need of cock, and I have to smile and act like it's nothing!" She gave you a little shove. "You think it doesn't hurt me to see you with them? It makes me sick! Sick!"

"Chaewon-ah! It's not all about you!" you yelled, hands outstretched. "Don't you understand? You're being a fucking selfish bitch and letting everything get ruined over a fucking jealousy scene!

"I..."

"Grow up and talk things over with me instead of letting things get to this point!" Fuck!" You slammed the side of your fist against the desk and turned your back to take a few steps away, feeling your head start to hurt.

Chaewon, instead of closing the distance between you, took a slight step back.

"Do something, then," she said, her voice shaking.

You stood very still, thinking you'd heard her wrong.

"Excuse me, what?" you said, slowly turning around and closing the distance between you.

"Do something," Chaewon repeated louder. "Be a damn man, and do something. You're the highest authority in this house, right? Do something."

You stood in front of her, staring into her eyes as your breathing grew labored. Rage took hold of you and clouded your thinking, so you didn't measure your strength when you grabbed her by the arms and slammed her against the wall on one side of the bed, smashing your lips against hers.

Chaewon moaned and grabbed at your shirt, tugging at it and biting your lower lip as you kissed her furiously. You wrapped your arms around her body, and she wrapped her arms around your neck, one hand in your hair and the other across your shoulders. She fought for control of the kiss, making your teeth clash and your tongues swirl. In the end, it was your determination to prove your dominance that allowed you to subdue her.

You grabbed her by the thighs and lifted her into the air, spinning her onto the bed and throwing her face up against the mattress. Chaewon trapped your torso with her strong thighs, hands on your shoulders as you exchanged saliva and heavy breaths.

In a pure surge of desire and anger combined, you ripped off Chaewon's shirt with a sharp upward jerk. Chaewon gasped, her small breasts covered by a black bra that you wanted to rip to shreds.

"You're going to learn who's boss, you fucking whore," you growled. "Open your mouth."

"Make me, asshole," Chaewon barked back. "You're not gonna boss me around after months of being a pussy."

In response, you slapped her firmly across her left cheek, making her moan. Then you grabbed a handful of her short brown hair, pulled her head back, and bit her exposed neck. Chaewon dug her nails into your shoulders and let out another moan, letting you trail kisses and sucks down to her chest. You slid your hands under her back, and after removing her bra, you took one of her breasts into your mouth.

Chaewon's back arched as you swirled your tongue around each nipple and sucked on them like never before. After leaving each mound covered in saliva, you slowly lowered your mouth between them until you reached her tummy, pausing there for a moment before moving to her lower abdomen and, with your hands on her waist, yanked her shorts and panties down her legs.

With her now wet pussy exposed, you wasted no time parting Chaewon's legs, pushing her thighs back and planting your mouth there, giving her an upward lick before devouring her silky folds, addictive not only for their texture but for their taste.

"Oh god," Chaewon moaned after a few seconds, as you sucked and licked her clit. "Stop being such a fucking weakling and fuck me already."

"Shut the fuck up," you snapped, and slapped her pussy. She moaned. "You're not in charge. Get it through your fucking head."

Before Chaewon could protest further, you sucked on your middle and ring fingers and slowly guided them into her tight pussy. Chaewon reached out and gripped strands of your hair as you began pumping your wrist, simultaneously licking her clit in rapid motions.

Chaewon writhed on the bed, her moans getting louder as you went faster, your sole goal being to make her explode as quickly as possible. You succeeded after a few seconds, when Chaewon tensed her thighs and exploded against your mouth, stifling sweet squeals of pleasure that she muffled against the forearm she was biting.

"Cum again," you said, in a low but commanding voice, still pumping your fingers even though Chaewon was still squirming.

"B-But! I'm still-"

"I said cum again."

Chaewon grabbed your hair with both hands, pulling hard. Not even a minute passed before your commands sank in and she came for the second time in a row, her body seized by a series of spasms that made her crumple the sheets beneath her.

"Good girl," you said, standing up while her legs were still shaking. "That's the least obedience I expect from now on."

Still somewhat dazed from climaxing twice in such a short amount of time, Chaewon remained silent as you removed your clothes. When you were completely naked, you climbed onto the bed with her and, kneeling beside her face, took your hard cock in one hand and forced it into her mouth.

Chaewon didn't protest and closed her lips around your cock with a moan, propping herself up on one elbow to grasp your shaft at the base and pump her head with long, hard pumps. Her control didn't last long, however, as you pulled a handful of her hair into a ponytail and began fucking her face.

"That's it, slut, take it all," you groaned, rapidly pumping your hips.

This wasn't anything new between the two of you, so she was able to take almost all of your cock before her gag reflex kicked in. Still, saliva slowly seeped from the corners of her lips and dripped down her chin, and it only got worse when, after a moment, you buried the entire length of your cock inside her mouth, resting it against her throat.

"Choke on it, bitch," you gasped, tightening your fingers in her hair, feeling her throat caress your tip.

Chaewon gagged against your cock, saliva spilling from her mouth in thick drops that fell onto the sheets. Her nails dug into your buttocks, a signal to stop that you ignored at first. Only a few desperate slaps on your thigh finally made you give her a break, letting her cough and catch her breath.

"You fucking..."

You returned the words to her mouth with another sharp slap to her cheek. Chaewon groaned, looking up at you with eyes filled with pleasure and anger.

"I don't want to hear you, shut the fuck up," you said, going to kneel between her legs.

"Fuck you, motherf... mmmgh!" Chaewon squealed as you took your cock inside her in one swift motion. "God, why can't you just be mine?"

You placed your hands on her thighs and pressed them back, fucking her slowly at that angle you knew she loved. Funny, but yes: even mad as hell at her, you cared that she enjoyed it.

"Because I'm not interested in belonging to a selfish bitch," you said, jaw clenched, panting at how good the way her pussy squeezed your cock so deliciously always felt. You didn't really think that, but it was the first thing your anger put in line.

Chaewon grabbed her legs behind the knees, keeping them spread. She moaned as you went faster and pounded her against the bed.

"Those bitches don't deserve you!!" Chaewon protested amidst her moans.

"And do you?"

"At least I truly love you!" Chaewon squealed, closing her eyes and tilting her head back. "Why doesn't that matter to you?!"

You pressed both of Chaewon's thighs together and rested both of her heels on your right shoulder, then leaned forward and pushed her legs against her body with your hands flat on the mattress.

"Then why did you let all this happen?!" you yelled through a grunt, reaching deep into her pussy with each thrust. "You don't do that shit to someone you love!!"

"And you don't deliberately fuck that person's groupmates either!"

That was the last thing Chaewon screamed before cumming again, suffocating your cock with her tight walls. She shuddered beneath you and gripped your forearms, every muscle in her body contracting in an orgasm that wasn't half as strong as what you knew you could achieve in her.

"If that bothered you, you could talk to me, Kim Chaewon," you murmured, fucking her slowly. "Talking. You know what that is, right?" You slowly raised your voice. "Talking instead of putting the fucking executives on our fucking heels!! What the fuck were you thinking?! Ugh!"

You pulled out of her pussy and grabbed her forearm to force her to stand up off the bed, carry her to the desk, and bend her against it. Chaewon braced her hands on the surface, crumpling some sheet music and knocking a couple of pens out of their containers to the floor.

"I don't have to go around telling you what the fuck to do and what not!" Chaewon yelled back, a moan escaping her throat as you came back inside her. "You're a fucking adult and you know exactly what you're doing!"

"And that excuses you from being fucking negligent?" you asked, hands gripping her waist as you pounded her pussy again with fast, hard thrusts. "I understand that you're mad at me, but hiding something like that from me? What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"You had to wake up somehow, you fucking asshole! Mmmgh!" Chaewon squealed, slumping her upper torso against the desk, knocking more of her things over. "I hope it teaches you to think with your head and not your dick!"

You reached out and grabbed a handful of her hair. Chaewon moaned as you pulled it back, causing her to lift her chest slightly off the desk.

"So you're not even sorry?" you growled, your brow furrowed.

"I won't fucking be sorry until you are!" Chaewon snapped back. "And believe me, you have plenty of reasons to apologize!"

You wished your mind had come up with a response to that, but all you could muster was a resounding slap to her right buttock that reverberated throughout the room and made her scream. More like those landed, on each buttock. One after the other until her ass was tinted a bright red, making it look like a jelly cake that you jiggled with each violent thrust.

"Keep going, keep going, keep going!!" Chaewon squealed, her hands braced against the wall in front of her. "Keep going, daddy, please!"

Chaewon exploded within seconds, in an electrifying orgasm that still wasn't the strongest you could get out of her, so you lifted one of her knees and placed it on the edge of the desk to adjust the angle and continue fucking her through a climax that still didn't relax her body.

"Oh fuckkk!!" Chaewon slammed her hand on the table, resting her forehead on one of her notebooks. "That feels so good!"

You gritted your teeth, sweat dripping from your temples and onto your chest as you redoubled your efforts. You squeezed her left buttock with your hand, and with the other, you had her behind the neck, both grips tight and rough. The railing continued until Chaewon came again, and this time you smiled when her neck arched back and she screamed at the ceiling.

"My god!!" Chaewon growled, her pussy squeezing you as her whole body shook. "How can I hate you when you drive me so fucking crazy, son of a bitch!"

"I'm the one who should hate you for what you did," you gasped, sliding a hand from her ass to her waist and pulling out of her pussy.

"And yet, you don't," Chaewon turned to look at you over her shoulder, straightening her back slightly with her hands resting on the desk again. "I'm everything you've ever wanted, and that's why you love me."

"Then you understand how disappointing it is for me that you would hide something like that out of jealousy," you said, unclenching your jaw and calming your breathing. The anger was slowly dissipating. "I… didn't expect that from you, Chaewon,” you shook your head. “You're better than that."

Chaewon opened her mouth to say something, but only a stutter came out. Then her eyes glazed over, and she wrinkled her nose in an attempt not to cry. She was realizing.

"I-I..." Chaewon pouted and looked away, two tears falling down her cheeks. "God, I'm sorry."

That looked more like the Chaewon you knew, one who put her pride aside and was mature enough to know how to give in when necessary. But despite it all, it broke your heart to watch her cry. Always.

You sighed and tilted your head, watching her as she wiped away her tears to no avail, as she sobbed on and on. Chaewon then straightened her back, turned around, and snuggled up to your chest with both arms in front of her.

"I'm so sorry, I really am," Chaewon sobbed. "You don't deserve to go through this because of me."

You swallowed and wrapped your arms around her, holding her close. You stroked her back and hair to comfort her.

"I'm sorry too," you said quietly, staring into space. "For... acting without thinking about how you'd feel."

"What I did is much worse!" Chaewon whimpered. "I messed up, and now we're going to be in trouble!"

"Chaewon-ah, please breathe," you said, seeing that she couldn't find relief from her tears. "There's time to make things right. We just have to absorb the blow and improve. It won't be more than a scolding."

That seemed to calm her down a bit. Chaewon made an effort to regulate her breathing and hold back her sobs, after leaving your chest wet with her tears.

"You think so?" Chaewon looked up at you. "I really don't want this to end because of me. I've worked so hard in this group, and... and..."

You cupped her face and kissed her gently. Chaewon held onto your wrists, kissing back.

"We both made mistakes, okay?" you said, gently holding her face. "You've already apologized for yours, and I apologize for mine."

"Can you really accept my apology? What I did..." Chaewon looked to the side and slowly shook her head. "God, I'm really sorry."

"I can accept them as long as you commit to putting things in order. To really put things in order like the leader you are," you did a pause. "Can you accept mine?"

"I can accept them..." Chaewon now looked at you. "But you know what that entails."

"I... I think I know," you nodded.

"We have terms, then?"

"They're going to riot about it, and we will have to find a solution for them, but we have terms."

"Great," Chaewon sighed and rested her forehead against your chest. "I'm still mad at you, though."

"I know, I know," you said. "Can I do anything to remedy it, even just a little?"

Chaewon looked up at you, and slowly reached down to grab your cock and rub it.

"Fuck my ass," she said, her hand sliding down your cock, wet with her own fluids. "You've never done it, and I think this is a good time to."

You chuckled.

"Really? Right now?"

"Well... you're not doing it with Kura anymore," Chaewon scribbled on your chest with a finger from her other hand while giving you a lazy handjob. "So you better get used to doing it with me."

Damn it, you weren't going to fuck Kura's ass again. The thought was painful. The sacrifice was more than necessary, though.

"So be it, then," you said, and slid a hand behind her to squeeze her ass. "Turn around."

Chaewon obeyed and bent back against the desk, her fists resting on it. She pushed her round ass back, pressing the back of your cock between her buttocks. There was no lubricant on hand, so you'd have to settle for natural methods, using saliva and her own fluids to prepare her ass.

"Mmm, fuck," Chaewon moaned, straining as two of your fingers made their way inside her butthole. "Slow, slow."

"Haven't you done this before?" you asked, carefully stretching her insides. "Not even with toys?"

"Those three have put the wrong ideas in your head, honey," Chaewon sighed, your fingers now fully inside her. "Not all girls are sluts who like things up their asses."

"I had to ask," you shrugged. "Do you feel ready yet, sweetie?"

"I think so..."

You removed your fingers from inside her ass and grabbed your cock, pressing it against it. For her first time, her hole yielded quite easily to your length, slowly filling it. Chaewon dropped her chest onto the desk.

"Well, it's not as bad as I thought..." Chaewon murmured. "Wait stop!" she said, when you were only inches away from being completely inside her.

"Is that your limit, baby?" you asked, your hands on her waist. "You can relax, I won't push any further."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, darling," Chaewon sighed, looking at you over her shoulder. "I know Kura can take it all, but I..."

"Kim Chaewon," you grabbed her neck and pulled her closer so she was looking into your eyes. "Never, and I repeat, never. Compare yourself to other girls."

"But..."

"Never. You drive me fucking crazy, no matter what. I've told you that more than once, I’m pretty sure."

Chaewon remained silent, and looking into your eyes, she pushed her hips back and drove the rest of your cock into her ass with a small cry of pain. You took her hands and intertwined your fingers together.

"Hey!" You frowned, concerned by her pained face but also delighted by how good it felt. "Baby, you didn't have to do that..."

"Shut up," Chaewon reached behind her to cover your mouth, her eyes closed as she adjusted to having you inside her ass. "You shouldn't have said that: you forced me to prove how much you deserve the best of me."

Chaewon took your hand from her mouth and returned it to the desk.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" you asked.

"Just move, asshole," Chaewon replied. "I'll get over it."

Somewhat hesitantly, you began to move slowly, your hands on her waist. Your cock slid in and out of her with some friction, lacking proper lubrication, but that didn't stop it from feeling simply delicious after just a few pumps. For Chaewon, it was a similar sensation: over time, her expression softened, slowly transforming to evoke the pleasure she felt.

"Is that better, darling?" you gasped, one hand slowly moving up her smooth, beautiful back to rest on one of her shoulders. Now your rhythm was steady, not too fast for fear of hurting her.

"Oh yeah, it's feeling like I thought it would," Chaewon replied. "You can move faster."

You did so, gradually picking up a steady rhythm until you were slamming your pelvis against her ass with each thrust. Chaewon's moans grew louder and louder, letting you know that ecstasy was taking over her and that she was beginning to enjoy every second of it.

"Do you like it, sweetheart?" you asked, gaping, your fingers clutching her shoulder and waist.

"Yes daddy," Chaewon nodded quickly, gripping the opposite edge of the desk. "I love it."

"Can I go faster?"

"I'm not in pain anymore... so use me however you wish."

Those magic words were like gunpowder to the flames, allowing you to slip out of your restraints and give her a good pounding against the desk. All Chaewon did was moan, squirm, and throw even more things off the desk, including HYBE's letter. The room erupted into a perfect cacophony of flesh against flesh and moans.

Interrupted by the sound of the door opening to your left.

You and Chaewon quickly turned your heads and turned your backs to hide your private parts, seeing Eunchae standing under the door, her eyes wide open, fascinated by the scene before her.

"Hong Eunchae!!" Chaewon squealed, frowning, her face flushed. "What did I tell you about knocking on the damn door?! Get lost!!"

"No... this is entertaining," Eunchae said, looking down—probably at your ass—with the door still wide open behind her.

"God, I said get out!" Chaewon yelled, grabbing a pencil to throw at her. She missed badly. "And close the damn door already!"

You grabbed Chaewon's wrist and leaned close to her ear.

"Let her stay," you muttered, glancing at Eunchae out of the corner of your eye.

Chaewon glared at you like you'd gone crazy.

"Huh?! Didn't you learn anything from our argument?"

"This is our chance to start weeding," you said even more quietly so Eunchae wouldn't hear. "Trust me. I have a plan."

Chaewon stared at Eunchae for a moment, rolled her eyes with a snort, and stared at the ceiling.

"Okay, Eunchae," she said loudly. "You can stay. But for God's sake, come in and close the damn door!"

Eunchae hurried into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. You then carried Chaewon to the bed, putting her on her hands and knees as she faced Eunchae, whose eyes lit up at the sight of your naked bodies.

"Should I just... stay around here?" Eunchae asked nervously, pressing herself against the wall next to the door with her hands behind her back.

"If that's what you want," you shrugged, and as you looked down at Chaewon, you thrust back into her ass with a single gentle thrust.

Chaewon moaned, her ass raised from you and her back arched. You left your hands on her buttocks and went back to fucking her with the same intensity as a moment ago, only now looking at Eunchae as you did so.

Eunchae watched intently, leaning against the wall, her breathing quickening as she brought a hand to her crotch to touch herself over her shorts.

"Enjoying this, huh?" you asked between gasps, watching her rub circles on her slit.

"You two look... so hot, yeah," Eunchae nodded, biting her lower lip as Chaewon whimpered in pleasure, seconds before experiencing her first anal orgasm.

You gripped Chaewon's waist with both hands, thrusting slowly and deeply as she moaned and writhed, crumpling the sheets beneath her hands. Her ass suffocated your cock at one point, forcing you to stop and enjoy the sensation.

When Chaewon's orgasm passed, you grabbed her shoulders and straightened her back to press her against your chest. She turned her face, kissing you as she met your lips. You wrapped your arms around her, one hand playing with one of her nipples and the other between her thighs, rubbing circles on her clit. Then you pulled your cock out of her ass and quickly slid it back inside her tight, warm pussy. Chaewon moaned against your lips, placing her hands over yours, and fell forward again as you began pounding her pussy with fierce thrusts that made her shake like a rag doll.

In front of you, Eunchae had one hand inside her shorts and panties, fingering herself faster. She let out small, almost inaudible moans.

"Look at that, baby," you told Chaewon, and you slapped her ass so she arched and looked at Eunchae. "The brat is horny."

"Manager-nim... you move so well," Eunchae said with a small sigh, her cheeks flushed, moving her wrist faster inside her shorts. "When are you going to...?"

Perhaps sensing what her question was going to be, your body tingled to let you know you were close to cumming. So, grabbing Chaewon by the arms to keep her back straight, you pumped up your energy to give her a few last wild thrusts before erupting inside her pussy.

"Mmmgh fuck!" you groaned, balls deep inside her as you filled every corner of her pussy with slow pumps.

"Fuck..." Eunchae moaned. "Is he...?"

"Cumming inside me, yeah," Chaewon nodded, looking into your eyes with her mouth agape. "And he's cumming a lot."

Your head was spinning at that moment, overwhelmed by pleasure. Chaewon fell chest first onto the bed as you released her arms, now giving her buttocks a hard squeeze. Her grippy pussy was also throbbing around you, and you looked down before pulling out of her and watching your cum spill out of it.

Chaewon slid an arm underneath herself and with her fingers scooped a good amount of cum from between her folds.

"Baby," Chaewon looked at Eunchae. "Could you pass me a wet wipe?" She pointed to her nightstand, and as Eunchae watched, she brought her fingers to her mouth to eat your cum.

"Y-yeah, sure," Eunchae nodded, practically trotting over to the nightstand to grab the pack of wet wipes and hand them to Chaewon, her gaze fixed on your fluid-soaked cock.

While you sat down to rest and catch your breath, Chaewon took a brief moment to clean herself up. A minute later, Chaewon tossed the two wet towels she'd used, crumpled into her trash can and looked at Eunchae.

"So? What are you waiting for?" Chaewon asked. "Come here, cutie."

Eunchae kicked off her slippers and climbed onto the bed, kneeling beside you. Chaewon knelt in front of her and, taking her by the shoulders, led her into a gentle kiss that slowly turned passionate. Eunchae was visibly nervous, but Chaewon was sweet to her the whole time until she warmed up and was able to relax.

Chaewon grabbed Eunchae's crop top and slowly pulled it over her head, revealing the pastel pink bra underneath.

"Can I take that off too?" Chaewon asked, her hands behind Eunchae's back.

Eunchae nodded, and Chaewon unclasped her bra so it fell onto the mattress. Eunchae's tits were even smaller than Zuha's, but they looked soft, and her nipples were small and pretty. Chaewon brought one to her mouth, making Eunchae moan and grab the sides of her head.

"Unnie, touch me down there too..." Eunchae moaned, twirling strands of Chaewon's hair around her fingers.

"Hm?" Chaewon looked up with a nipple in her mouth. "Like, here?"

Chaewon slipped her hand inside Eunchae's shorts and panties, and you watched as she reached her pussy, making Eunchae roll her eyes as she circled her slit with her fingers.

"Oh yeah, just like that," Eunchae sighed, as Chaewon continued sucking and licking her small tits. "You can undress me too."

"I'm a little busy," Chaewon replied, kissing between her breasts. "Manager-nim, will you help me?"

You looked at Eunchae silently, and only when she nodded in approval did you knelt up to go behind her and pull both her shorts and panties down to her knees. Eunchae gasped, feeling your cock brush against one of her buttocks. Chaewon, for her part, arched her back and lowered her kisses to Eunchae's tummy..

"Just relax, princess," Chaewon said, looking into her eyes. "We're going to make you feel good."

Eunchae reached behind her to cup the back of your head, while Chaewon inserted two saliva-stained fingers into her pussy. She let out a moan, and you noticed a slight tug on your hair from her, a signal you took as a green light to bury your face in her long neck and shower it with kisses.

"Can I touch you, sweetheart?" you asked in Eunchae's ear.

"I can literally feel your cock against my ass, manager-nim," she replied, turning her head to look into your eyes. "I don't even know why you're asking."

Then Eunchae subtly joined her lips with yours, in a tender kiss you hadn't expected from her, considering the way she'd been behaving all these days. You placed both hands on her small waist, then moved them to different places: the left one to her tits, playing with one of her nipples between your fingers, and the right one between her legs to rub her clitoris.

Chaewon began slowly pumping her fingers in and out of Eunchae, who moaned against your lips at the double stimulus that made her squirm her hips and buck slightly. Soon, Eunchae's breathing became heavier as Chaewon fingered her faster and you rubbed faster, pushing her hips back to crush the back of your cock between her nude, soft buttocks.

"Does that feel good?" you softly said against her lips.

"So, so good," Eunchae moaned, her eyebrows raised and her mouth gaping. "I think... I think I'm gonna... Oh lord!"

Eunchae tightened her fingers in your hair as she came with a soft moan, her body trembling against yours. You moved your fingers slower, and Chaewon pulled her fingers out of her to go down a little further and lick her pussy with gentle licks. 

"I want you to... eat me," Eunchae managed to say in the midst of her climax. "Can you?"

"I'll take care of it," you replied, taking her hand and leading her to lie down on one of the pillows.

Eunchae made herself comfortable with a pillow under her head, right in the center of the bed. You got on top of her, and after a small, warm kiss on her lips, you slowly moved down her upper torso, stopping at her tummy to lick and kiss it. Then you went a little lower, now between her thighs, pressing them back and bringing your mouth to her pussy.

"Oh my... so good," Eunchae sighed, arching her back and grabbing your hair.

Chaewon joined you and lay down next to Eunchae to kiss her lips. Then she moved down her neck, stopping at her tits and sucking on them again, one hand coming down to join you as you ate her pussy with slow licks, soft kisses, and gentle squeezes of her thigh.

Eunchae's moans grew louder as you let go of the gentleness and began to eat her pussy the way you really knew how, resulting in another orgasm that had her whimpering against Chaewon's lips and cuddling her like a teddy bear.

"Mmm, I think it's time for the main attraction," you said, wiping your chin as you knelt between Eunchae's spread legs. "Do you want to do it?"

Eunchae broke away from Chaewon's lips and looked into your eyes, then at your cock just above her pussy. She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed and her breathing ragged, visibly very horny.

"Yes... I do," Eunchae nodded. "Please fuck me, manager-nim."

You took your cock and pressed the tip between her folds, but instead of taking it inside, you rubbed it up and down between them.

"Why should I?" you asked.

Eunchae frowned, confused. Beside her, Chaewon, on the other hand, gave a small smile, knowing where this was going.

"Well... because I'm naked in front of you and you just have to put it in?" Eunchae retorted.

"Indeed," you nodded. "But I'd be giving you what you want. Why would I give you what you want like you deserve it?"

"Oh come on, manager-nim!" Eunchae protested, clutching the pillow under her head with one hand. "Don't be like that! I'm sorry, okay?"

"Your apologies aren't enough, I need something more."

"What the fuck do you mean?" Eunchae tilted her head and grabbed your cock, trying to push it inside her. "Just do it!"

You grabbed her wrist and stopped her, doing it yourself, but you only got the tip inside. Eunchae twisted her hips in a desperate attempt to push more inside her.

"I need you to promise me that you'll start behaving," you said, with a stern tone in your voice that you hoped would work. "And that you'll start respecting my and Chaewon's authority, no matter what."

"And if I refuse, what are you supposed to do?" Eunchae challenged you.

You shrugged and pulled your tip out from between her folds. You made as if to get up from the bed.

"No, stop!" Eunchae stopped you, trapping you with her legs around your waist. "Oh my god, I can't believe you coerced me into this!"

"It's your fault for being nosy and not knocking before entering," you said. "And now you only have two possible choices. Decide."

"Fuck, fine! I promise!" Eunchae said. "Just fuck me!"

"You promise what?"

Eunchae rolled her eyes and growled in frustration.

"I promise I'll behave and respect your authority no matter what!" Eunchae finally blurted out.

A surge of relief washed over your body, making you take a deep breath. Nothing assured you she wasn't lying, but it was a start.

"Good girl," you smirked. "It wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Shut up."

"It's weird to ask, but are you a virgin?"

"That's none of your business!" Eunchae snapped.

"Just asking, rude ass."

Now certain you'd gotten what you wanted from her, you grabbed your cock by the base and slowly guided it inside Eunchae. The absurdly tightness of her pussy led you to believe she was indeed a virgin, but when you looked up, you didn't notice her even the slightest bit worried about it. A pained expression was what you would have expected, but Eunchae just seemed to be enjoying every inch of you filling her.

"Damn, look at you," Chaewon said from beside Eunchae, kissing her neck. "Taking all that cock in exchange for not being such a rebellious brat anymore. Don't you think that's a reasonable exchange?"

"I'm not so sure you know?" Eunchae retorted, when you were halfway inside. "But I don't think I’ll regret it anytime soon."

You sincerely hoped she wouldn't, because you wanted to get that matter with her over with so you'd only have to worry about the other three musketers.

After a few seconds of slow thrusting, your cock was buried deep inside Eunchae's pussy, which felt like a tight, warm glove enveloping you perfectly. You placed her right heel on your shoulder, and with your hand on her left thigh, you began to move your hips.

"Oh my god, Eunchae," you sighed. "You're crushing me, damn it."

"Yeah? Does it feel good?" Eunchae asked as you took the entirety of your length in and out of her with each slow pump.

"It feels amazing," you nodded, squeezing the flesh of her soft thigh beneath your fingers. "And for you?"

"You have no idea," she sighed, letting out a long moan.

Chaewon ran a hand down Eunchae's tummy and between her legs to rub her clit with swift, agile movements of her wrist. That urged you to go faster. Eunchae found Chaewon's lips again and moaned against them as you began to fuck her with swift thrusts, her hands cupping her unnie's face.

Not wanting to keep her waiting, you reached out and slid a hand between Chaewon's buttocks and found her pussy, inserting two full fingers inside her. Chaewon moaned and pulled away from Eunchae's lips, watching as you moved your wrist as you fucked Eunchae's tight pussy at a perfect pace.

The room was soon filled with both of their moans and the occasional thump of your pelvis against Eunchae's crotch. The two of you merged again in a kiss, and the first to cum was the maknae, squealing and squirming her hips. Her pussy felt even tighter that way, throbbing around your shaft and wetting it with her warm fluids.

After a few seconds, you pulled out of her and lay behind Chaewon, placing a few kisses on her shoulders.

"Come ride me, my love," you whispered in her ear.

Chaewon quickly pulled away from Eunchae and straddled you, taking your cock straight and impaling herself on it in a single motion that made you both moan. She placed her hands on your chest, and with her face only inches from yours, she began to rapidly move her hips to fuck herself against you.

Eunchae snuggled up close to you, making you turn around for a kiss. You gasped against her lips, and she caressed your abdomen. Chaewon then began to go faster, straightening her back to jump on your cock. Eunchae knelt right next to her, and returning the favor, began to kiss both her neck and her tits until she came.

Chaewon's nails dug into your abdomen as her slim, sexy body writhed on top of you, her hips grinding back and forth with your cock buried deep inside her. Soon, she got off of you, and Eunchae lay down next to you again, this time on her side. You turned toward her, and with her back pressed against your chest and your arms wrapped around her body, you went back inside her pussy.

Your lips and Eunchae's met again, this time in a fiery, heated kiss. Chaewon lay in front of her, intertwining their legs together as you fucked her pussy with hard, deep pumps. A few seconds later, you broke away from Eunchae's lips and brought Chaewon's face closer. Eunchae tilted her neck toward you, enough so the three of you could share a sloppy three-way kiss.

"Oh my fucking god, I'm going crazy," Eunchae moaned, breaking away from the kiss. "Keep going, oppa... god, keep going, keep going!"

You planted one foot on the mattress and gripped Eunchae's waist, slamming your pelvis against her buttocks and making her whimper in pleasure until she came in a maelstrom of moans and little whimpers. The way her pussy clenched around you made you moan and realize how close you were to cumming too.

"Eunchae, I'm really close..." you gasped, squeezing her against you as she writhed in pleasure. "Where...?"

"Out, oppa, please," Eunchae replied with a moan, clutching your forearm. "Not inside."

Exactly the response you expected. You buried your face in her neck, making her feel your hot, labored breathing as you resumed the rhythm in and out of her. Eunchae reached behind her and gripped your head, tugging at your hair. A minute later, you moaned as you felt that delicious tingle travel down to your lower region, and just before cumming, you quickly pulled out your cock, pressed the tip against her ass, and masturbated until you exploded.

"Mmmh fuck!" you groaned, squeezing Eunchae tightly against you as you shot a thick load that stained her waist and hips, and completely filled her ass.

"Mmm," Eunchae moaned, watching you cum, stroking your hair. "It feels so warm against my skin..."

"Let me do you a favor," Chaewon said, kneeling up to bend over Eunchae's ass and wipe your cum off with her tongue while it was still coming out from your tip. "Stay still."

Chaewon did an impeccable job cleaning every stained spot on Eunchae's skin, and when she was done, she brought your cock to her mouth to suck every inch slowly. When she left you glistening, with only a light layer of saliva, she lay down next to Eunchae, staring at the ceiling.

Silence then reigned in the room, your breathing slowly returning to normal. A while later, Chaewon sat up, covering her breasts with a blanket, and looked at you.

"This is the first and last time this happens, okay?" she asked. "You know exactly why."

"I know," you nodded, part of your head resting on Eunchae's. "You can trust me."

"Very well. The ship will stay afloat, then."

"Look on the bright side, we've already taken a step. It's one less weed to cut."

"Oppa... unnie," Eunchae said in a small, tired voice. "Please don't let the others find out about this. I'm a little embarrassed that they'll get that image of me."

You hoped Sakura and Yunjin weren't paying attention to the noise because of how high they must be, because otherwise, they would surely have realized it was two pairs of moans, not just one, and immediately associated it with Eunchae.

"They won't, sweetie," you replied, stroking her hair. "Don't worry."

You then felt a calmness you hadn't felt in a long time. HYBE's letter was still pounding in your head, but patching things up with Chaewon and putting Eunchae back in line was definitely a turning point you were grateful for.

Chaewon stood up and began searching for her clothes with slow movements. You stared at her, noticing a big change in her expression. Her anger and resentment had definitely disappeared. Eunchae, for her part, just squeezed your hand with her eyes closed, relaxing.

Then your phone rang with a notification. You looked for it, but the noise had come from the floor. Chaewon ended up passing it to you, and you sighed in relief when you read what you'd received.

"What's wrong?" Chaewon asked.

"HYBE postponed the meeting to Monday. We have time to sort this whole mess out."

Chaewon mimicked your sigh, putting on her panties and T-shirt.

"Thank the Lord," she said, lying back down.

Eunchae sat up a minute later and got out of bed to find her clothes. Her cheeks were still flushed, and she glanced at you, embarrassed.

"I'm... sorry about the beer, oppa," she said, putting on her panties and bra. "And everything. I promise to improve and help you with the others. To... I don't know, make them reconsider."

Chaewon nodded, a proud little smile on her face, a mirror of yours.

"Thanks, Manchae," you said, watching her get dressed and imitating her, putting on your boxers and sweatpants. "I really appreciate it."

"It’s nothing. But can we take a nap?" she asked, already dressed. "I'm exhausted."

As soon as she said that, Chaewon got closer to you and cuddled up to you.

"Yes, but he's mine," Chaewon said. "You lie down over there," she pointed to the other side of the bed.

Eunchae rolled her eyes, shook her head, and lay down with you two.

But not even five minutes had passed when you heard a sudden commotion in another room: music now playing incredibly loudly. The ones responsible? Probably Bob Marley and Willie Nelson.

You sighed against Chaewon's back, realizing you had a lot of work to do.