#who comforts Stella

[lilystrations]

Spiritfarer - "Remember Me, Won't You?"

[xinxiaogato]

— you're dating who!?

summary. no one believes that you’re dating the esteemed duke of the fortress of meropide. that man is only ever seen locking lips with the orifice of a teacup. however, all of that changes when you and your alleged “boyfriend” are invited to a coworker’s dinner party.

love interest. gn!reader x wriothesley.

warnings. unedited, cursing, bullying, attempted homewrecking, mentions of blood, murder, and assault (nothing crazy), slight angst, lack of communication, a bit suggestive (mentions of light bdsm).

word count. 2,187

note. happy late birthday to wriothesley! this shortfic was inspired by a scene from spy x family (iykyk). you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

while loading up your plate with chips and french fontainian onion dip, you could sense the smugness of your colleagues from all the way across the dining room.

“i mean, we all saw this coming, didn’t we?” one of them piped up with a snarky laugh.

another obnoxiously chortled in return. “i won't forget the day reader told us who could have possibly given them those flowers.”

“right!? and i’m lady furina!”

that joke rocked their worlds to the point that one person started choking on their garlic baguette. your eyes flitted over to your friend, pauline, who was shaking with rage beside you and on the verge of strangling someone.

“why i oughta give them a piece of my mind!” caterwauled pauline, but you perched a hand on her shoulder so that she wouldn’t go ballistic—even if it was on your behalf.

“can’t really blame them,” you conceded. “if you told me you were in a relationship with the iudex of fontaine, i would need a minute.”

“are you saying it’s impossible?”

“i’m saying it’s highly unlikely.”

“hmph! a girl can dream.” pauline haughtily raised her nose into the air and crossed her arms with indignation, which tugged your lips into a small smile. you knew she had your best interests in mind. since day dot, your coworkers were constantly unleashing a tirade of vitriol against you. “anyway, where’s your boyfriend? did he get caught up with something?”

“probably,” you ascertained, taking a sip of red wine. you looked for a seat to settle at; you couldn’t let your chips go cold. “he warned me that he might not make it in time for the party. a new batch of inmates was processed for registration today, and allegedly, they’re unruly.”

her eyes widened after connecting the dots. “are they related to the famous case of the missing paintings? they finally caught the culprits!?”

you raised an eyebrow. “you didn’t know? it’s all over the steambird.”

as you and pauline were sitting down, the hostess of the party, anaïs, and her entourage strode over with purpose. one of anaïs’s minions was the first to start yapping, “well, if it isn’t reader, the person dating the wolf!”

“more like the person who cried wolf!” followed anaïs, which made the group howl like hyenas.

rolling your eyes at their sneers, you replied, “where is your husband, anaïs? don’t tell me he’s at the office ‘working overtime’ with his assistant again.”

all of anaïs’s friends practically broke their necks to look at her.

“h-how did you know about that…!?” anaïs spluttered, her cheeks flared red. “that’s… that’s my personal affairs you’re airing to everyone!”

a follower of anaïs cupped a hand to her ear and hissed, “don’t you remember? reader is friends with charlotte, a journalist for the steambird. she’s notorious for her intel gathering so that she can compete with others for the juiciest scoops!”

“hey, hey, does charlotte know anything about monsieur neuvillette’s type?” pauline whispered to which you were about to answer—only for anaïs to grab your glass of wine.

“you think you’re so high and mighty all the time…!” anaïs said in a shrill voice, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “at least i don’t pretend i’m the bitch of the lord of the fortress of meropide to get attention!”

“i think it would be better for you to channel your energy into divorcing that shitty excuse of a husband,” you corrected her, unfazed by the fact she was threateningly holding the drink above your head. “it’s not your fault that he’s a scumbag, so don’t stick around to see if he’ll change.”

something in anaïs seemed to falter at your words, but it was only for a moment. resentment got the best of her, and in the blink of an eye, red liquid was splashed onto your chest and dripping down your top, making bystanders gasp at the scene before them.

it kind of looked like you just got murdered.

“what is wrong with you!?” pauline furiously yelled after jumping up to shield you, who was still reeling from what happened. “how old are you to be acting like an immature brat!?”

as pauline and one of anaïs’s flunkies began to pull at each other’s hair, a different one pointed a finger into your face while cackling. “ha, serves you right! that outfit must have been dirt cheap anyway, so it couldn’t have been a total loss!”

“oh, you wouldn’t want your shoes ruined, right?” a second cooed, snatching them right off your feet and looking for the nearest window to chuck them out of. “don’t worry, i’ll dry them off for you!”

you got up to take them right back, but anaïs blocked your path, eyes narrowed into slits. “just admit it, reader,” she snarled. “you’re nothing but an attention-seeking whore for the fortress of meropide’s administrator, a goody two-shoes for our boss, and a laughing stock for all of fontaine. you’re nothing!”

“monsieur wriothesley!” a voice resounded from down the hallway, causing everyone in the dining room to freeze. “we’re so honored to have you join us! did lady anaïs invite you?”

before you knew it, a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders from behind to give you a tight squeeze, and a pair of lips kissed the top of your head.

“so sorry i’m late, my love,” a deep voice purred by your ear. “my hands were tied…”

his voice trailed off. wriothesley, whose sudden appearance had dropped every partygoer’s jaw, noticed that your top felt weirdly damp. when he craned his neck to investigate, his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach. 

he immediately questioned if it was your blood or not.

“reader!” your boyfriend shouted, turning you around and holding you by the shoulders. a fear he had only felt as a teenager flooded rapidly into his system, and it was taking everything in him to not explode. “what happened to you? are you hurt!?”

you were still stunned in the aftermath, but you quickly collected yourself and placed your hands atop his. “no, no, i’m fine, wrio. i’m not hurt. it’s just red wine.”

“red… red wine?”

recovering from his initial shock, wriothesley twisted around, his jacket fluttering swiftly in tandem. his eyes took in the sight of an awestruck anaïs holding something behind her back and a petrified person clutching onto a pair of shoes (which explained why your dogs were out).

in a calm tone more terrifying than him speaking out of anger, wriothesley said to the hostess, “i apologize for souring the mood. however…” quickly, he engulfed your body with his jacket and swept you off your feet, hitching the air in your throat as he held you close to his chest. “my partner is not feeling well, so we’ll be taking our leave. we humbly thank you for the invitation.”

“b-but you just got here!” anaïs fretted.

her first mistake was revealing the wine glass she was desperately trying to hide earlier. in wriothesley’s realm, we call this a foul.

“reader was just a little tipsy and spilled a drink on themselves!” she crooned, tilting her head up at the duke and innocently batting her eyelashes. “why don’t you stay and become acquainted with your partner’s coworkers?”

her second foul: coveting a man in a relationship.

“i mean, they can’t be unwell to the point of needing to go home!”

her third: messing with reader. and three fouls meant a disqualification.

“heavens, no,” wriothesley insisted. “my partner’s health is my main priority, and time is of the essence. besides, the longer i remain, the less time i have to file a detailed report on an assault and battery that took place here.”

it became so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.

“a…assault…?” even through the makeup caked on anaïs’s face, you could see the color drain from it entirely. “what… what assault…!? no assault happened here, your grace!” when his frown spoke volumes, she cried out, “y-you don’t have any proof!”

“oh, i would suggest otherwise. and i believe there are many eyewitnesses to testify.”

you peered around at the guests who had gathered to view the spectacle, and they were nodding in support of wriothesley’s claim, including pauline. even anaïs’s goons were vehemently bobbing their heads up and down, still in disbelief that the man, the myth, the legend himself had graced them with his presence.

“now if you’ll excuse me…” with you firmly in his grasp, wriothesley approached the woman still clinging to your footwear, who immediately began to quiver. “i would like for you to return my partner’s shoes,” he ordered with a look as cold as ice.

“o-of course!” she stammered, extending the shoes toward him. “it was all in good fun, your grace!”

“oh, those aren’t mine,” he said with a cock of his head at your bare toes. “like i said, those belong to my partner.”

finally picking up what was he putting down, the lady shakily slipped your shoes back on your feet for which you glanced up at wriothesley with furrowed eyebrows. he only reacted with a smile that thawed the rigid expression on his face.

“i-i can’t possibly rot in jail!” anaïs was still making a fuss nearby. “i’m so young and beautiful! can’t you look past this, monsieur wriothesley…!? i’ll do anything!”

“well, it’s not something you’ll go to prison for, ma’am,” he said, not even sparing anaïs a glance as he headed for the front door, “but this misdemeanor will forever stain your official records and reputation… just as you stained my partner’s clothes.” (mic drop.)

and that was that. with a quick kiss on both cheeks from pauline, you exited the dead-quiet house in your boyfriend’s arms.

“wrio…” you murmured as he started walking in the direction of your home. “i’m really sorry for inconveniencing you.”

wriothesley momentarily stopped in his tracks to gaze down at you, his lips pursed before sighing. “no… don’t apologize, my love. i’m sorry for not arriving sooner.”

“but that isn’t your fault,” you pointed out.

a chuckle resonated from deep within his chest. “touché.”

however, his lightheartedness faded out with that chuckle when his hands gripped onto you tighter, as if you were about to dissolve into water at any moment.

“what happened, reader?” he croaked, displaying a side of him reserved for your eyes alone. “how long have they been treating you like this? and for you to not even give them a taste of the boxing skills i taught you for these kinds of situations…”

you clutched his jacket tighter to your body. “you already have so much on your plate. i could not dare to tell you something that may weigh on your conscience.”

“please,” he whispered. “i want you to weigh on my conscience.”

after a moment’s worth of hesitation, you finally gave in, explaining that the fresh bouquet of rainbow roses he sent to your office one morning sent your colleagues into a frenzy that turned your life into a nightmare. as you spoke, wriothesley’s expression became grimmer and grimmer. he couldn’t even fathom how much of a shitshow your company was for permitting the kind of behavior he merely glimpsed this evening.

and he couldn't bear the thought that you had been suffering alone for months.

“they didn’t believe me for a second, even when i had pictures of you and me framed on my desk. ‘oh, those must have been edited’.”

realizing wriothesley's muscles were so taut, you attempted to alleviate the atmosphere. “i guess no one can accept an ordinary office worker dating the administrator of the fortress of meropide. like, picture the tianquan of the liyue qixing with an npc.”

in any other situation, your boyfriend would be laughing, but certainly not this one. “no one can determine our relationship,” wriothesley stated with a clear veracity. “you are the light in my bleak world, reader, and nothing is allowed to take you away from me. if so, i will travel to the ends of teyvat to bring you back.”

he then grinned, showing off his cute canines. “and you bet i'll put my handcuffs to use.”

you slapped a hand to your forehead. “way to ruin the mood. i was just about to kiss you.”

in response, he grinded his knuckles into the top of your head, which made you yodel out in pain. “what was that for!?” you exclaimed.

“for not kissing me, but more importantly: for keeping a secret from me,” he clarified, his pale gray eyes twinkling under the moonlight. “no more of that, okay?”

you warmly smiled up at him and rested your head against his broad shoulder, completely wiped out from the party-turned-fiasco. “okay.”

as the two of you reached your abode, a question popped up in your mind. “were you serious about the handcuff thing?”

he smirked. “yes, and you’ll find out just how serious i am after we take a shower together. you reek of wine.”

a pink blush dusted your cheeks. “what? together!?”

“together. you and me.”

“ahhh! put me down!”

“nope. not a chance.”

© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.

[dreamerdrop]

How many different grotesque and mortifying ways can I whump Julian Bashir: a memoir.

[aalt-ctrl-del]

people on the "Stella did nothing wrong train" often argue that Stella too, is vulnerable and traumatized by the situation she was placed, same as Stolas. And they make grievance that "fans are wrong for supporting Stolas in his time, and adoring bird prince, but condemn Stella even tho she's in the same sitch"

y'all are forgetting Exhibit A!

Teh reason why fan are loving and supporting Stolas, and condemn Stella as the toxic bitch, is because Stolas - despite his circumstances - has tried to make this arrangement he has with his (ex)-former wife as comfortable and pleasant as possible. He has been nothing but kind, if not distance and perhaps respectful of her needs and desires - it is implied in the first episode and the childhood one, that he was tolerant and patient with Stella, despite her broadcasted hate for him, and her boastful claims that he was worthless as a Goitia.

A person can be hurt, traumatized, resentful, damaged by the circumstances of their birth and the legacy they are meant to inherit - it never gives them the right to torment and destroy someone else. It is never excusable for that person to hate and continue hurting someone who has done nothing but the best that could be done, in those situations. Stolas might have inherited a broken, preprogrammed hate monger, but he made the effort to extend compassion and kindness and make a home for that person; the response of one who is given the opportunity to do better, recover, or even reevaluate who they are and where they come from was squandered and destroyed - which seems to be Stella's go to method of internalizing her spite and anger for the world. She destroys everything good. She strangled a bunch of hellhound pups, or whatever those crechures were in the picture of her as a child.

Stella is actually a very deep and complicated character if you really look at her and her reactions to those around her. She does not appreciate her daughter, she despises Stolas (who she views as weak and pathetic, and a disgrace), and she is shallow as all fuck. Which has made her the person she is. And it is her own choice to behave and react in such a way, despite her privilege, despite her access to help and happiness (Stolas is medicated, and working on himself). But Stella is completely satisfied with who she is, and has no regard for others; which hurts those that would love her, or at the minimal could appreciate her company. If Stolas was a pompous and arrogant monster, like we thought he was in the pilot, STELLA STILL WOULDN'T BE HAPPY. Nothing would make her happy. Because her character type is one that intentionally destroys and hurts those around her, because she has unaddressed resentment for her circumstances.

But no amount of help or love, or extended support will fix her. Because Stella is not interested in fixing herself, or being a better person. Because she is perfectly happy with who she is, hurting others, because that right there is what gives her life purpose.

*yeets the mic*

[obstinaterixatrix]

went along to get groceries for my pal’s salmon(/charcuterie) party (actually I just looked up charcuterie to check if I spelled it right and apparently it’s specifically for meats?) (can cheese and jam and crackers be considered charcuterie…?) and we got two packs of salmon which made three plates of salmon… we all demolished 2 plates but it was mostly 3 of us eating lol, we’ll finish off the rest tomorrow. we also went to an art fair before the party, saw some cool stuff. blue cheese is actually really good with fig jam on a cracker, I was obsessed with the combo

[angels0fpride]

Cant draw digitally atm but I just wanna ramble for a sec that I absolutely adore perpetual victim ocs/characters,, and on the other side perpetual mean girls/villains it makes me GIDDY to see unabashedly mean and lowkey kinda horrible ocs and characters,, like yes fucking FINALLY someone not trying to justify their own morals through a character and just making one that makes THEM happy

Insert relevant twt screenshot i saved from,,, somewhere lol

[sailingfireshipz]

The things they do to me.

[wake-me-up-inside-imagines]

Sweet yanderes who are so gentle with their darlings, handling them like they’re made of glass. They never raise their voice and hold their darling like they’ll break under the slightest pressure, terrified of harming their darling in any way.

Sweet yanderes who can be a bit overwhelming, always doing everything for their darling and making sure their always within eyeshot of them. They just don’t want their darling to strain themselves, is that so bad? Their darling won’t have to lift a finger as long as they’re around!

Sweet yanderes who would never hurt their darling, no matter how much they acted out. Yanderes who rely on rewards rather than punishment, giving their darling more privileges the longer they behave.

Sweet yanderes who want nothing more than to keep their darling safe. Sure, they kidnapped them and took away most of their freedom, but it was for their own good! They can’t have their darling being hurt and corrupted by the cruelty of the outside world, it would destroy them!

Sweet yanderes who make their darling as comfortable as possible as a way to make up for their lost freedoms. They’ll buy all their darlings favorite things, nab all of their comfort items just to keep them happy. They know what they’ve done is upsetting but eventually, if they keep treating their darling well, they’ll see that it was for the best. They have all they need where they are anyways!

Sweet yanderes whose hearts break a little more every time their darling tries to escape or lash out. Why can’t they see that this is for the best? Aren’t they doing enough to keep their darling happy? Yanderes who work even harder to keep their darlings satisfied, doing anything and everything they ask (except for letting them go).

Sweet yanderes who would and do murder anyone standing in between them and their darling without regret, brutalizing their victim until the body’s almost unrecognizable. Yanderes who make sure their darling never finds out about what they’ve done, too afraid of scaring their darling even more than they already are.

Sweet yanderes who remind their darling how much they love them every day, gently kissing them on the forehead while snuggling up to them. It’ll all be ok in the end, they just need to give their darling a little time to adjust, eventually they’ll be living happily ever after, just the two of them.

Forever.

The sweet yanderes: MICAH, Rain, Stella, REN, Leo (kinda), GWEN, Ivy

[mattscoquette]

dad!matt comforting his daughter at daycare

a cool breeze blew through the cold morning air as matt held both of his daughters in his arms, their small bodies clung to his while he carried them into the pre school building. both of the girls, lorelai especially, had a rough morning. neither of them wanting to get out of bed, and making a fuss over their breakfast.

he brought them inside, nodding a small hello to the ladies in the office before setting them on the ground outside their classroom, crouching down with open arms. "i love you girls, have a good day at school, alright?"

"do you have to go daddy?" lorelai mumbled, her bottom lip beginning to tremble.

"sweetheart," matt sighed, bringing her into a hug, "you gotta go to school, baby. stell is gonna be with you the whole day."

stella smiled sweetly at her sister as she hugged her dad tightly, wrapping her tiny arms around lorelai's middle as she rested her head against hers. "yeah lo, we can even play dolls during playtime."

"but i want daddy to be here." lorelai said as she turned around, tears now pooling out of her eyes as she faced her sister.

matt sighed, ruffling her hair and kissing her tear stricken cheeks softly. "i know you do, munchkin," he said in a soft voice, "but i gotta go back home now."

"but why?" she cried, hanging her head while stella grabbed her hand, holding it in her own.

matt frowned deeply, hating seeing his poor baby so upset. "that's just how it goes, pretty girl. you go to school without mommy or daddy."

"i don't like it." she pouted, angrily wiping her tears and crossing her arms over her small chest.

matt let out a small huff, reaching his hand into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and opening it. "lorelai," he said in a gentle voice, "look, baby, you see this picture here?"

he held out his open wallet, showing the picture he kept in the id holder. it was a photo of him, stella, and lorelai that you had taken of them a few months back. you'd all spent the day at the park, and couldn't help but take a picture of matt and the girls together. their cheeks were flushed a bright pink with wide smiles on their faces as they stood on either side of matt, hugging his legs tightly as his arms rested on their shoulders.

lorelai nodded slowly as she looked down at the picture, then back up at matt.

"i look at this everyday when you girls are at school and i miss you." he said, sliding the photo out and handing it to her. "you can borrow it for today and keep it at your table so you can look at it."

she looked up at him with wide eyes, then at stella who had a big smile on her face. "really daddy?"

"really really." matt grinned, pinching lorelai's side playfully, earning a squeal from her. "i can even print another picture for you to keep with you at school too."

"to keep?" she asked, her voice sounding hopeful.

matt nodded with a smile. "to keep."

lorelai squealed again, jumping up and down and pulling matt into a tight hug, squeezing her small arms around him. "thank you daddy!"

he chuckled, pulling stella into the hug as well, holding them both tightly before pulling away, standing back up again to his full height. "i love you both so much. have a good day, i'll see you later, okay?"

they both nodded, smiles on their faces as matt watched them both wave goodbye and head into their classroom.

© mattscoquette

[chrisevansonly]

Playing With Fire

Max Verstappen x Female Reader

summary: you and stella are max’s world, and he’d be damned if he let his father speak ill of either of you.

warnings: angst, jos (ew), angry max, slight mentions of crying, fluff at end

a/n: this is a re-upload to see if it shows up in the tags 🥲

When Stella was born, it was one of the best days ever for Max, seeing his baby girl come into the world, and the way she practically latched onto him from the minute she was welcomed into the family. He knew right then and there he would be the absolute best father to his daughter, just as he was the best husband to you, and always had been.

If there was one thing Max nor you completely enjoyed it was family events when everyone got together, including Jos. Max’s father.Max and his father have a complicated relationship, in a way they seem close but there’s always that edge to his dad that keeps all of you on the edge of your seat. You in particular seemed to still be an issue to him, and every once in a while, you’d become the punching bag at the dinner table.

Stella was sleeping in your arms as you sat next to Max at the dinner table, Jos across from you both and his mother on the other end with the rest of his family and some friends that had joined for the monthly get together.

“So when is the next Verstappen coming?” His father asked looking at you. Stella was only 6 months old so you and Max were happy to just enjoy the time you have with her now, not even thinking about another baby.

“Oh, well i’m sure someday we’ll have another…”

“We’re in no rush” Max butted in, assuming it would stop his father’s line of questioning.

“Yes well, it’s just you had a baby girl…there has to be a boy in the equation…”

You furrowed your brows, fixing Stella’s blanket as she continued to sleep, oblivious to the rising tensions in the room.

“I don’t think so? There’s nothing wrong with having girls..”

“Who’s supposed to carry on the name?”

Max sat up straighter, his hand squeezing your knee gently

“Stella will just as our next baby will eventually, regardless of their gender.”

Jos shook his head taking a sip of his water as he sighed, before looking back at you.

“All i’m saying is you should be trying for a boy.”

“Well it doesn’t work that way.”

The table was getting quieter as the father and son squared off, Jos not backing down and Max not about to let his father attack you in anyway. Not on his watch.

“I knew the second you had a daughter it would make you weak, let alone marrying her and having that baby! She’s useless if she can’t have a boy! You’re wasting your time Max, I knew from the second I met her it would ruin our family.”

Used to his harassment you didn’t cry, but it didn’t stop tears from welling up in your eyes as you almost deflated in a way, hugging Stella closer to your chest. The minute your eyes looked to Max, long gone was his soft stare and gentle smile, replaced was a look almost predatory as he looked to his father.

“Watch your fucking mouth when you’re talking about the mother of my child.”

“Max-”

“No, get out.”

“Excuse me?” Jos’s eyes widened and he shook his head

“GET THE HELL OUT!”

Max yelled, slamming his hands down on the table, seconds later Stella stirring before whimpering in your arms. The dutchman froze and looked apologetically at you as you excused yourself to go up to the nursery, only then turning back to look at his father.

“If you ever so much as think about speaking about my wife and daughter again, it’ll be me coming after you. Now get the fuck out.”

Jos didn’t even offer to say anything else, pushing back his chair and storming out, effectively cutting the dinner to an end as everyone left, Max’s mother sticking around to help clean up and of course comfort you afterwards. She had always been close to you and Max and in a way she was like a mother to you too.

“Baby?”

Turning at the sound of your husbands voice you smiled, still holding Stella in your arms, only this time she was much calmer, her eyes lighting up as she spots her dad.

“Hi, everything okay?”

“I should be asking you that…”

Shrugging you let him take Stella from you, his demeanour much more relaxed with his baby girl in his arms as he placed a few kisses to her cheeks.

“I know what your father is like, yes it hurts but I love you and you love me and that’s all that matters…we have a beautiful baby girl, and that man will never be able to change what we have.”

Max nods, bringing you into his side and leaning down to kiss you softly

“You’re right, he can’t. I’ll never let him ever disrespect you like that ever again. No matter what I have to do.”

“I know you won’t Maxie…and I love you very much for it, Stella too, huh baby?”

Stroking her cheek gently she babbled happily, leaning on Max’s shoulder, her hand patting his chest gently

“My girls…I love you both so much, i’ll always protect you both, with my everything.”

Nothing else needed to be said in the moment, all Max needed was his girls and he felt whole. Nothing else mattered because to him he had everything he’d ever wanted in his life. Despite what he went through growing up, Jos had never made his heart turn cold, he made it big enough to hold the love he had for you two, and would always hold, no matter what happened.

Besides, everyone knew messing with the Verstappen girls, was playing with fire.

[fujosh1dreamer]

There are a few things I wanna talk about in the newest helluva episode Mastermind, but firstly...

Im gonna throw myself off of a cliff this is so sweet... holy sh*t.

Now onto to the painful stuff...

Loona getting myzzled and staying that way the whole trial is the most ef'd thing for the whole episode. Talk about disrespectful, if Blitz had died she wouldn't have been able to say she loved him.

Then there's this whole scene that was extremely painful to watch. Both Loona and Moxxie are looking away as Blitz is about to be executed so he's only able to make eye contact and feel comfortable in his final moment by Millie. She's the only one who doesn't look aways even though he is her best friend and it must be unbearable.

THISSS MAKES ME ANGRY!!!!! It's on site when I see Stella again, talk about emotional abuse.

Then there's the stuff after the trial that just breaks my heart into a million pieces.

Let's talk about how stolas despite clearly still being angry is willing to die for blitz, only at the end of the episode to tell him "always" as if the decision wasn't difficult. It was.

There there's the look he gives to Blitz and Loona when they hug, and she says she loves him. There must be sooo many thoughts running through stolas's brain. He's thinking about how Blitz almost lost this, about how imp really is his family, he's probably thinking about his own daughter, and he probably thinks this is all his fault.

It's going to be devastating to see the low stolas is going be at both literally and emotionally.

[asapeveryday]

Breath Me In

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Warnings: Smut (Fingering), weed, alcohol

Summary: Uconn’s end of summer party brings you all sorts of highs.

A/n: can you tell I like party settings??? Anyways. We need more fics of Paige receiving instead of always giving pls!! Someone please this girl!

Summer is coming to a close. Long August days turn to colder September nights, and the students of Uconn have mostly moved in for the new semester. A new year of college calls for a party.

Uconns annual end-of-summer party was an absolute staple to attend for seniors, richer students who lived in housing nearby often responsible for hosting. Summery rap and pop blasting, coolers and twisted tea by the gallons, string lights in big green backyards, patio furniture overrun by couples making out or slowly sobering up. It was a sight to behold, and you relished in the feeling of this, the beginning of the end of school.

When you make your way throughout the house, various people stop to talk to you, including the hostess herself.

Stella DeSantos is a trust fund girl who’s in her senior year for sports marketing, and this years lucky party organizer. She has the means, obviously, because the house is massive.

“So… gonna start the year off with some dick or what?” She laughs, already tipsy.

You just smile and shake your head. “I’m chill right now.” Is your reply. Honestly you just didn’t want to pull the ‘id rather have pussy’ card on her.

The girl swings an arm around you. “I could set you up with some really athletic guys if that’s your thing.” She hiccups. “Want a drink?”

She thrusts a mango white claw into your hand and you take it reluctantly. As much as you loved getting wasted the party was a bit too rowdy to feel comfortable. You were desperately searching for someone you knew well enough to hang out with that wasn’t already drunk, with no luck.

You stick by Stella for a while, standing by as she greets people and gets drunker by the minute. You’re still holding the same White-claw, though it’s mostly empty.

You’re scoping out the scene yourself, the house is filled with kids you’ve been in school with for the past years. Your gaze stops in the kitchen, where two girls reside. One tall with dark skin, hair slicked back and clothes baggy. You’d had classes with Aubrey Griffin before, she was intimidating but attractive.

The other girl was paler and slightly shorter, blonde hair tied back into a bun and glasses on her face.

“Paige!” Stella calls out, as if sensing your thoughts. She makes her way over to the two girls and you awkwardly follow behind. Everyone knows Paige Bueckers. She’s one of those students, everyone mostly likes her and she’s friends with all the right people. It puzzled you how someone so gay still attracted so many guys.

Stella talks to Aubrey and Paige, and they politely engage despite obviously being thrown off by how drunk she is. Their shared looks almost make you laugh. You take this as a chance to get a good look at Paige. She mostly stayed out of trouble or tough rumours, and kept to her main group of friends, so aside from her talent on the court you knew almost nothing.

You let yourself stare at her, noting her blue eyes, long lashes and wide smile. She carried herself confidently, but looked uncomfortable.

Finally she turns to meet your eye, and when her tongue flashes out to wet her lips you physically feel something in your stomach drop.

“You her babysitter or something?” She smirks.

“You’d think she knows how much she can handle by now.” You scoff. Stella barely notices, fully talking to Aubrey.

Paige’s eyes dart to the drink in your hand. “Good luck finding a ride home tonight.”

Before you can respond, maybe by telling her your name or sparking better conversation, Stella’s attention is drawn somewhere else and she starts to drag you away.

You turn to get one last look at Paige, and internally celebrate when your eyes meet.

-

As the summer sun finally began to set, it got a little too cold for everyone to be outside. The inside of the house was absolutely packed, the music was louder and the air was thicker. The smell of smoke and sound of people was starting to irritate you, but for whatever reason you didn’t want to leave just yet.

Stella was nowhere to be found and you were sitting on the kitchen counter next to some other girls, quietly sipping some drink while listening in to conversations. The original plan of staying mostly sober was ruined by your boredom, and though you weren’t drunk you felt significantly warmer and a little more confident.

“Oh, it’s you again.” A voice says. You turn to see it’s Paige and your heart skips a beat.

“I have a name.” You reply, not caring if you come off rude. She doesn’t seem to care either, just raising her eyebrows at you. “And it is?”

You tell her your name and she repeats it to herself with a smile. “I’m Paige.”

“I figured.” You laugh. The alcohol was making everything seem like less of a deal, had you talked to her more before you probably wouldn’t have been so casual.

“You drunk?” She asks, leaning against the counter across from you. At this angle you’re pretty much looking down at her, she looks cuter with her eyes wide and head tilted slightly upwards. You almost let your imagination get ahead of you.

“Getting there. You?”

Paige shakes her head no. “You don’t seem like much of a drinker.”

With a shrug, you say “This party is less fun than I thought it would be.”

“I’m gonna head outside if you’re tryna come.” She shrugs back.

You hop off of the counter and are reminded of the fact that Paige isn’t short. She seems happy that she’s not looking up at you anymore.

“Sure, why not.” You smile.

She leads you to the backyard and the sudden quiet is surprising. The music is muffled and the air is fresher, it’s a beautiful night and the yard is empty for the two of you. Paige heads straight for the pool, sitting down by the edge of the deep end and taking off her shoes, letting her legs dangle in the water. You join her and do the same.

“So you came to a party and you’re not drinking or getting high?” You ask her.

“Ah ah,” she smirks. “I’m getting high for sure, jus had to be a little sneaky. You can keep a secret, right?” Paige tilts her head at you, and you almost melt right there and then.

“I’m great at keeping secrets.” You eye her, tilting your head like she does. “But can all those people?” You gesture to the kids inside the house.

“Everyone in there is gonna be too drunk to remember me sneaking out for a blunt with a girl.” She finally breaks eye contact, reaching into her pocket for a tin of pre-rolled blunts.

She said ‘with a girl’ like her being with you could be a topic of conversation. The thought makes your mind race.

When Paige lights up and gets the first hit, her whole composure loosens.

The blue from the pool water reflecting onto her face, the slight glow of the blunt against her lips, the way she blows the smoke afterwards. It’s driving you insane.

You stare at your legs in the water, her pale ones next to yours. The night is beautiful. She’s beautiful. You wonder if she’ll remember anything tomorrow.

“Want sum?” Paige interrupts your thoughts, holding out the blunt. You know you shouldn’t mix weed with alcohol, but your heart is buzzing and her lips had already been on it, so you can’t say no.

Taking it from her nimble fingers (which you cursed yourself for even noticing) you inhale, letting the smoke fill you up before letting out a long breath, trying to ignore her sharp eyes on you.

“I’m surprised I haven’t noticed you around before.” She says, taking back the blunt. You let the statement linger in the air. For every hit you take, she takes three. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are already slightly pink.

“Are you not the noticing type?” You ask.

Paige’s eyes meet yours. “Are you?”

You laugh and take the blunt from her, holding the smoke in before tilting your head back and blowing it into the night sky.

“I notice a lot of things.” you say, glancing at her lips before meeting her eyes again.

“Oh yeah?” She says quietly, analyzing your features. If it weren’t for the drinks and the weed, you would’ve felt like prey under her watch.

“Yeah.” You match her tone.

She’s closer than you remember her being. The air smells like weed and chlorine, but she smells like summer.

Nobody says anything, you just keep passing the blunt.

“What was your first time getting high like?” You ask her.

“Freshman year, me and some other girls on my team decided we were gonna do it together.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “Don’t know why we started with edibles, but we were still high the next morning.”

“Oh shit.” You laugh.

“Yeah,” she huffs “and we had practice that afternoon, must’ve gone through like 3 bottles of eye drops each. What about you?”

“Senior year of high school.” You cringe and she smiles at your expression. “My girlfriend- at the time, was kind of addicted. Didn’t seem like a big deal then, but she begged me to smoke and I did. It was whatever.”

“Girlfriend?” She asks.

“You’re surprised?” You chuckle. “Shit, you really don’t notice anything.”

“Shut up.” She flicks your shoulder. “Any girlfriend now?”

“Fuck no.”

“I feel that.” She blows smoke into the crisp air. There’s a moment of comfortable silence, you looking into the water and her looking at you, before she finally says “Can I try something?”

“Like what?” You ask.

You can tell her thinking is slightly hazy, she’s moving slower and her eyes are tired, it’s attractive.

“Lemme jus show you…don’t freak.”

Paige takes a hit, then leans into you. In an instance her lips are on yours, prying you open and exhaling smoke into your mouth, then she pulls away. You resist the urge to choke, but manage to exhale smoothly. Your lips tingle where she made contact with you, and you feel your face get red at her expression. Paige is practically entranced.

“Little warning would’ve been better next time.” You cough.

“We can try again if you want.” She smirks, and you roll your eyes.

Once again Paige takes a hit then leans into you, this time placing her hand on your face. She huffs the smoke inside your mouth and you gladly take it, now knowing what to expect. When she pulls away you don’t turn your head, you just blow out the smoke, letting it cloud both your vision and hers. When it clears she’s staring dead at your lips.

Her lips meet yours again, this time without any weed. She’s taking her time with you, tongue exploring your mouth attentively, one hand still on your face while the other finds your thigh.

Her hands are calloused and controlled against your skin, her glasses bump your face as you kiss her. Her lips are soft.

You let your hands wander too, dancing under her black t-shirt and gripping her waist. You can feel her abs, toned from her athletic lifestyle. You can only imagine the things you could do with her abs alone.

Her hand leaves your thigh and meets yours under her shirt, gripping your wrist she guides you to her sports bra, letting you get under it and feel her breasts.

She sighs into your mouth when you lightly pinch her nipples, her usually confident voice now almost needy.

Paige’s kisses trail down to your neck, licking and biting into your soft skin. You let your fingers ghost against her until they reach the waistband of her sweatshorts.

“Can I?” You whisper, eager to feel her.

“Fuck, yes.” She murmurs against you, sucking beautifully painted hickeys from your neck to your collarbone.

When your fingers rub her through her boxers you can hear her breathing change, and it’s doing things to you. Rubbing slow circles on her clit, you feel yourself getting wet.

“You let every girl down your pants, Paige?” You mumble. She stares up at you, eyes wide and bloodshot.

You relish in the way she bites her lip when your pace quickens, you can feel her slick through the boxer briefs and you can’t help but tease her. “So wet already…”

Finally you let your hand slip into her briefs, finding her entrance and teasing around her hole. Her hips jerk upwards, giving you room to move, offering herself to you. “Stop talking.” She grumbles, cheeks pink with embarrassment.

You connect with her lips again as your fingers finally dip inside of her, causing her to let a soft moan out. You realize suddenly that anyone inside the house could come outside and see you two, but with all the weed and alcohol you couldn’t care less, you couldn’t stop now, not when Paige was grinding against your fingers and letting out sweet whimpers into your mouth, her hands feeling you all over.

Breaking the kiss is the best decision you make, because you can actually see her. Her face is perfect, hair falling out of her bun, glasses sliding down her nose, her expression a sexy, needy pout, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.

You pick up the pace, pumping your fingers in and out of her and grinning as her whimpers get a little louder. The noise of her slick, her voice, the crickets outside and the muffled music is almost magical to you. Her blue eyes shining and glossy from the weed and the reflection of the water.

“Fuck.” She murmurs, covering her mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

Her hips are violently bucking now as you curl your fingers inside of her and use your thumb to apply pressure to her clit. Her eyes are screwed shut now, and you can tell she’s close.

“Gonna cum for me Paige? Cmon baby, let it out.”

She calls out your name, legs open and pussy throbbing against your fingers. Finally she loosens around you, reaching her orgasm.

She’s still clinging to your body and catching her breath when you pull your hand out from her shorts, licking your fingers like you’ve just finished a meal. Paige’s eyes are trained on your lips wrapped around the same digits that were just inside of her.

You just smile at her staring. “You good?” You ask her. She just chuckles and takes off her shirt. “I’m good. Might needa cool down though.” Paige eyes you as she slips into the pool.

You laugh and take your shirt off too, slipping into the cold water with her.

It’s a good night, filling your lungs with her, breathing Paige in.

[bibluebutterfly]

One thing I appreciate Helluva doing is how it establishes Stolas as a good, sweet person but doesn't excuse his actions.

A lot of people have been saying for some time that Helluva turned Stolas into a sad owl boi, which true, but at the same time it still works as that is who Stolas is at his core. He's depressed, repressed, and is dealing with some shitty stuff at the moment.

HOWEVER, even though he never means to hurt anyone, it doesn't change the fact that he still does. The show in season one held him accountable as a loving father to Octavia, still held him accountable when he unintentionally ignored her discomfort and not wanting to be there.

In the new Music Video it does the same with Blitz. We now know why he pursued Blitz, why he was so comfortable cheating on Stella, and why he was so forward with his dirty talk. But misunderstanding or no, it doesn't change the fact that Stolas still screwed up during his arrangement with Blitz. Even if he didn't mean to and thought it was something they both wanted, it doesn't change the fact that he still took advantage of a power imbalance and ignored the hints that Blitz may not have been as happy as he was.

And the show makes him take accountability for that. It has him address the fact that he was wrong, and that he's going to do everything in his power to make amends. Even if that means never seeing Blitz again.

I think that's such an important lesson in media. That even if you don't realize you hurt someone until it's too late, it doesn't change the fact that you still hurt them. You can be a genuinely good person who means no harm, but if you hurt someone you hurt someone and you need to take responsibility for that.

(Also it must be said that Blitz screws up too. He doesn't comprehend that Stolas can get hurt in any way, so that leads to him thinking he can do whatever he wants with and to Stolas and that Stolas will still be there. He doesn't think he needs to worry about Stolas's feelings which can and will probably cause problems in the future. Also it has to be said that even though Blitz does see Stolas as unreachable and above him, it doesn't change the fact that Blitz too took advantage of a married mans attraction to him in order to steal from him. Also Stolas wasn't Blitz's ONLY option to the human world, it was simply the EASIEST. But Blitz has been being called out by other characters so I think that's why the fandom is easier on him.)

Basically, both Stolas and Blitz are equally as guilty. But I love how Helluva sets them both as sympathetic, caring characters and yet still holds them responsible for their actions.

[helluvathings]

Could just be the dialogue hasn't had room for it, but I've been thinking about Octavia's line in the trailer about Stolas never having loved her (or Stella, though that's a separate thing); just Blitzø.

And unless I'm missing a moment, we haven't actually heard Stolas use the word love in the show. Not to Octavia, even when it would've been appropriate in the episodes focused on them, when he was comforting her at Loo Loo Land, or after they reunited in LA. He promises to be there, he definitely feels love, but he never uses that word. Even when he's putting her to bed as a child, where it'd also fit, no l-word.

He doesn't use it with Blitzø either. Pretty jarringly, because Blitzø has thrown it around a few times in the past two episodes. Which could be Stolas being emotionally intelligent enough to recognize he doesn't know Blitzø well enough to love him, but I wonder if that's not also a symptom of growing up the way he did. All the repression. The being told to hide his emotions. Paimon being Paimon.

Not like 'love' is a magic word or anything, and Stolas has been communicating his feelings very well. He doesn't need to say it for his words and actions to matter. It'd just be ironic if Blitzø, who we know from Verosika is allergic to 'I love you,' actually has less difficultly with saying it than Prince Rom Com. And if Stolas is particularly shy about verbalizing love, despite being such a romantic, because it's something he's always wanted so badly, whether in a familial or romantic sense, that he instinctively dodges the term. (Which is a hangup that maybe contributes to Via's feelings, as well).

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Six.

Chapter One. Chapter Two. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Chapter Ten. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - You finally start to appreciate the happiness that having a soulmate brings.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. so much fluff.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 5k

Author's Note - the sixth installment!! thank you to everyone who voted in my poll - I listened, and decided to make this chapter as sweet as pie, because I think we all need it. it's nice to have a little break from the angst. just a liiiiittle break though. a tiny one. as always, thank you for all of your love and support and enthusiasm and patience and kindness towards this story. so much love for every one of you. <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

"Are you happy?"

You stretch your feet further into the sand and sit up, wiggling to get comfortable on the picnic blanket.

"That's a big question to start with."

Stella laughs and closes her notebook, deciding to take a different route than originally planned.

"I just mean... be honest with me. I'm not gonna be offended if you say no."

"Do you think I'm gonna say no?"

"Do you always have to answer my questions with questions?"

You tilt your head and watch her, smiling softly.

"I thought this was supposed to be an employee performance review."

"You're not my employee and you know it."

Both of you laugh, the sound whipped away by the sea breeze.

"Then what am I, Stella?" you chuckle.

"You're basically my partner. Come on, we've done all of this together. You helped me build this business from the ground up - I couldn't have done it without you."

You go to protest, so she continues.

"I think you should be. My partner, that is. Obviously there's logistics to work out, but it'd be fifty fifty. You and I, co-owners. It doesn't feel right to me that you're my 'employee'. I'm not your boss. We're equals."

Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to process what Stella's asking of you. Being her business partner is an opportunity you know is rare and incredibly special - and it could potentially set you up for life - but you can't help but think about the fact it's a big commitment. About home. About Bucky.

"You don't have to answer me right now - I just want you to think about it. We always talked about opening up businesses of our own. I should have asked you to be my partner at the beginning, but honestly... I didn't know if you were gonna stick around. It kinda felt like you had one foot out the door when we started."

You take a deep breath, nodding.

"Yeah. I, uh - I think I did. Don't get me wrong, I was super excited, but the idea of moving away when I felt like I'd just got home was a lot to process. I'd just settled back there, and then I was gonna be packing up all of my stuff again and shipping myself across the country. "

"I didn't realise it was so tough for you, you know. I just assumed you wouldn't mind moving. I mean, you were always up for it, back at school."

"Things changed, after I graduated. I got home, and a couple of things happened and I guess it just... turned everything upside down. Home is different now. In a good way, I think."

"You're different now, too."

You look at her carefully, half attempting to read her mind.

"How do you mean?"

"You're... more grounded. More careful. You think through everything way more than you ever did. Almost like you've realised you're not invincible anymore."

There's a feeling, when you're young, that you're indestructible. Unharmable. Broken bones mend, cuts and bruises heal, hearts and minds forget about their aches if you give them long enough.

Then one day, that feeling is gone. And you realise that you're mortal - made of flesh and blood and bones that will one day be returned to the Earth, whether you like it or not.

Meeting your soulmate is like having that realisation again, but bigger. Again, and again, and again. You don't live for yourself, anymore. You live for them. The pain they'd feel if they lost you is unfathomable, completely unimaginable.

So you become more careful. Less reckless. You drive a little slower, take things a little easier, quit your dangerous hobbies and unhealthy habits. You need to be alive for as long as possible. And you know your soulmate will do the same.

That's how you can tell a Tethered person from an Untethered one. Ask two people to go skydiving with you, and the Tethered one will tell you no. They can't risk it. It's not worth it.

Stella's right. You have realised you're not invincible anymore. You're a little more cautious when you climb ladders, you don't balance precariously on the kitchen counters anymore. You look twice when you cross the street, and don't risk it if there's a car coming and you could maybe get across.

You're also painfully aware that Bucky's older than you. He'll be turning forty in less than two years. Sure, he's not ancient, but it does mean you'll have less time together than Lacie will with Cameron, for example. And that hard truth makes you live a little less recklessly, every single day.

"I guess I just... grew up."

You're honestly not sure why you don't just tell Stella about Bucky. You know she'd understand. But there's a part of you that feels protective over what you have - territorial, even. Your Tethering is sacred, almost, and you feel the primal urge to guard it with your life. To lock it in a box and keep it away from anything that could harm it. The less people that know, the less damage that can be done. Maybe.

"I did too. The world is kinda scary now we're not in that little culinary school bubble, huh?"

"Yeah," you laugh. "We thought that was hard. Little did we know."

"Take your time, thinking about my offer. But just know that I really, really appreciate the fact that you're here. That you believed in me enough to move across the country. It means a lot."

"Of course," you say, reaching across to grab her hand. "I always believed in you, Stella. I always knew you'd do something great."

"We'd."

"Hmm?"

"We'd do something great. The two of us. Together."

"I always knew that we'd do something great," you correct.

You're starting to believe that, as time goes on. You were born to do this. You deserve to live your dreams.

Let the happiness seep through, you'd told yourself.

It finally feels like it is.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"There's a guy here to see you."

Isabel pops her head around the door, grinning at you like she knows something you don't.

"Again?"

She nods, giggling.

"Let me guess... he's hot, tall, brown hair?"

"Bingo."

"Thanks, Isa. I'll be right out. Is it busy out there?"

"It's quieter than it was. There was a pastry rush this morning, but we're good now."

You laugh and hang up your apron, washing your hands quickly before making your way to the café.

You feel like you're having déjà vu, this situation oddly familiar.

Just like Isa said, he's stood waiting with his back to you, broad shoulders filling out his powder blue short sleeve button up.

You're excited to see Rafael again. You've been trying a new cookie recipe for his sister, and you're eager to get him to try it. You're mentally making a note to buy a nice box to put them in when you feel it.

The lights get a little brighter, the colours a little more vibrant. The tightness in your chest eases, allowing you to take a full, deep breath. You can suddenly hear the birds outside singing, melodies drifting through the open doors like a summer breeze.

The man turns around, and it's not Rafael.

It's Bucky.

You're moving before you can even process it, running and jumping into his arms. You inhale, revelling in his familiar scent. He's here. Your happiness has arrived.

"Surprise," he laughs quietly into your ear. "Miss me, honey girl?"

You beam a grin at him, pulling away to look at his handsome face.

"More than you'll ever know."

"Oh, I know. I feel it."

He places a hand over his heart gently, looking at you with pure adoration.

"What are you doing here?"

"It's been a month since your Mom's birthday. A month since I've seen your pretty face. A month too long."

You roll your eyes jokingly, so he continues.

"You don't mind that I'm here, do you? Because I'll go, if it's too much for you. I know me showing up unannounced is a lot to process."

"Don't go," you reply quickly, grabbing his hand. "I want you here, Buck. More than anything."

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, cradling your face in his warm hands. The background of the café melts away, the man in front of you the only thing that matters.

You pull away and smile at him, pressing your forehead into his gently.

"Come back to the kitchen with me. Let's get away from all the noise."

You grab his hand and pull him with you, ignoring the excited giggling from Isabel behind the counter.

Bucky perches against a counter, leaning back to allow you to stand in between his legs. You wrap your arms around his neck and peck his lips, stealing kisses in between giddy smiles.

"I hope you weren't expecting a day full of super exciting adventures. I've got a list full of stuff I've got to get finished by closing."

"Honey, I'm more than content to stay here and watch you work. There's nothing I love more than watching you bake."

You run your fingertips over his face carefully, gently tracing his features as you look at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I don't care what we do, as long as we're together."

You wrap your arms around his middle, holding him as tightly as you can.

"I feel like I hit the soulmate jackpot," you whisper.

"No one's as lucky as I am," he whispers back. "Now, come on. Let me see you work your magic."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky, it turns out, makes a damn good assistant.

Instead of just watching, he volunteers to help in whatever way he can. You set him onto weighing your ingredients, so you can focus on making and decorating. He takes his job very seriously, measuring down to the precise gram each time. You can't help but grin as you watch him concentrate, determined to get it right.

At lunch time, Isabel brings you both coffee and sandwiches, entering just as you're teaching Bucky how to properly fold in ingredients.

"Sorry, I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"You could never. Isa, this is Bucky. Buck, this is Isabel. Our best waitress."

He holds out his floury hand for her to shake.

"It's nice to meet you, Isabel. I've heard a lot about you."

"You have?"

Her eyes light up as she looks at you, fighting the smile off her face.

"My honey talks about you all the time."

Isabel glances between the two of you, clearly trying to figure things out.

"And you two are..."

"Soulmates," you say at the same time as Bucky does.

Her jaw drops for a moment, before she laughs.

"Yeah. That makes a lot of sense, actually."

You roll your eyes at her lovingly before Stella's voice calls her name from out front.

"I better go. But me and you are gonna talk about this later."

"Fine," you laugh.

"Nice to meet you!" Bucky shouts after her, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I like that we're just telling people now."

"Yeah, me too, actually. I thought it'd be scary, but... it feels right."

He slings an arm around your middle, pulling you into his side.

"We've still got the two most important people left to tell."

Your muscles tense and Bucky feels it instantly, running his thumb in patterns over your hip gently.

"I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm almost ready, Buck. We can't avoid it forever. Next time I'm home, I think we should do it. We should tell them."

Bucky hooks two fingers under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

"Are you sure? Once we tell them, we can't undo it. We'll only do it if you're one hundred percent sure."

"I'll be ready when the time comes. It'll be a huge weight off of both of our shoulders, which I think we both need."

"Okay then," he says, kissing your forehead. "Next time you're home."

Isabel clears her throat from the doorway, smiling sheepishly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this again, but... there's a guy here to see you."

You laugh, untangling yourself from Bucky with a kiss to his cheek.

"Send him through. Thanks, Isa."

The man you were originally expecting to see this morning walks into the kitchen, envelopes in his hand.

"Hey!"

"Hey, Rafael."

He gives you a quick hug, before waving at Bucky.

"Hey, man. You've gotta be the soulmate, right?"

Bucky chuckles, coming over to shake Raf's hand.

"Yeah, that's me. How'd you know?"

"Are you kidding? You can feel it the minute you walk into the room. There's like, electricity in here."

You laugh, hiking yourself up to sit on the counter. Bucky stands next to you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Here," Rafael says, handing you an envelope. "We're having a gala next month, for the charity that has supported my sister. We'd love it if you could come - and bring your date too, of course."

"I'd love to," you say as you read the invitation. "Do you need me to bring anything? You know I'll happily make something, if you guys need it."

"You would?"

"Absolutely! I could bring a cake, if you like? I haven't done a proper, three tiered cake in forever. I'd love to."

"That'd be... amazing. Seriously. We just want to raise as much money as possible."

"Of course. Thanks for these, Raf. How is she?"

"She's okay. She's getting a tiny bit stronger every day, and that's all we can really ask for."

You reach a hand out to squeeze his in support.

"You know where I am if you need anything."

"Of course. Thank you, so much. I've gotta run - I've got like a hundred of these invites to deliver. But I'll see you at the weekend?"

"For sure. See you, Raf!"

"Nice to meet you, Bucky."

"You too, man. Take care."

Isa shows Rafael out of the door, winking at you on her way out.

"Damn, he's handsome," Bucky laughs.

"Isn't he?" you giggle. "Nothing on my soulmate though, I'm afraid."

"Shut up," he blushes, leaning in to capture your lips. "You wanna get dinner when you're done here?"

"Yes, please. I'll show you around my new apartment too."

"Can't wait."

There's not an ounce of tension in your muscles as you finish up your bakes for the day, gliding around the kitchen while Bucky stands and watches your every move.

If you could pause time, this would be when you'd do it. You'd be content to live in this moment forever.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The minute Bucky walks through your front door, he inhales deeply. The entire place smells like you, cosy and golden.

"You like it?"

"It's gorgeous, baby. I love the windows."

He makes his way over to your kitchen, where the glass panes run from floor to ceiling. Sitting on the bench pressed against it, he takes in the view, savouring the feeling of the sun on his face.

You sit down on his lap, draping your legs over him and wrapping your arms around his neck. Nuzzling your face into his jaw, you press a kiss to the stubble, resisting the urge to lick the salt off of his skin.

"Come on," you murmur. "Let me show you my bedroom. The sun sets in that direction, so it's always beautiful in there."

You grab his hand and walk him across the apartment, swinging open the door to your room and pushing him inside.

He takes in the space for a moment before turning in your direction, striding over to smash his lips to yours. You tangle your fingers into his shirt and pull him closer, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth with ease.

Bucky leans in to trail kisses down your neck as he slips your shirt over your head, making quick work of unclasping your bra with skilled fingers. He grasps your chest in both hands, massaging gently as he nips at your throat.

"So fucking pretty," he murmurs. "Haven't stopped thinking about you since you left me."

You whine and unbutton his shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. You're desperate to see more, desperate to feel his skin on yours, desperate to bare every inch of him.

Your fingers make deft work of his belt, sliding it from its loops and throwing it to the ground. You unpop his button and slide down the zipper, pulling his jeans off his legs in no time. You shimmy out of your skirt, leaving you both in your underwear.

The evening sun seeps through the window panes, illuminating the room in hues of orange and gold. The light hits Bucky's skin, making him glow in a halo of love and adoration.

He walks you backwards, wrapping an arm around your back to throw you onto the white sheets of your bed. Crawling over you, he settles in between your legs, pressing gentle kisses from your ankles to your inner thighs.

"The way you look when you come has been burned in my mind," he whispers. "Need to see it again. It's been too long."

He slides your underwear down your legs and wastes no time, diving into you like a man starved. He devours you, tongue never ceasing it's movements. His hands pry your thighs apart, one arm thrown over your stomach to keep you still. When your muscles start to shake, Bucky doubles down on his efforts, lapping and sucking at you like you're his lifesource.

"Oh, Buck, I'm-"

You see stars as you come, white and silver shapes flying through your vision. Bucky never stops, prolonging your release for as long as he can. When you go boneless, he ceases, pressing kisses to the inside of your knee.

"You okay?" he murmurs, moving so his body smothers yours.

"I'm good," you smile, leaning up to kiss him. You groan when you taste yourself, wrapping your legs around his waist.

"Need you, baby. Please, Buck."

"You sure?"

You smile at him, cradling his face in your hands.

"Couldn't be surer."

He dips down to lick into your mouth once more, shucking his boxers off and throwing them across the room. Slipping a condom on, he lines himself up, eyes meeting yours.

"I need you more than I need air to breathe," he murmurs. "You know that, don't you?"

"Buck," you breathe. "I've been going crazy here without you."

He goes to speak, but stops himself, instead leaning down to kiss your forehead.

"I know," you whisper. "I know."

Bucky slides home in one smooth thrust, both of you gasping. One of his hands finds your hip, the other resting against your throat as an anchor. You wrap your legs around his waist, arms snaking around his shoulders.

"Fuck me, please."

"Fuck," he groans. "I'll be replaying that in my head forever."

You chuckle breathlessly, gasping when he draws his hips back and forward again. He sets an even pace - not too fast, not too slow. He has you right where he wants you, both of your bodies in perfect synchronisity. It feels like the stars have aligned. Everything's fallen into place.

Bucky dances his fingers from your hip to your clit, rubbing firm circles. He plays you like a violin, your muscles tensing as you get closer.

"That's it, pretty girl. Fuck, you're so good for me. You close, honey? Gonna come for me again?"

You nod frantically as he picks up his pace, hips colliding with yours. He groans as you tighten around him, head dropping to rest against yours.

"Come for me, honey girl," he whispers. "Please."

Your back arches as you find your release, nails scratching at the skin of Bucky's back. The pain tips him over the edge, spilling inside of you with a deep groan. He collapses on top of you, both of your chests heaving.

"I think we're naturals at that," you chuckle hoarsely.

"You think it's the soulmate thing, or are we just that good?"

"I think we're just that good," you laugh, pushing him off your body so he lands next to you. You link your fingers with his, resting your head on his chest.

"I need a drink."

"I was just thinking that, actually. You wanna go out? Know anywhere?"

"There's a cute little bar that looks out over the cove - it has good food and good cocktails. You wanna go there?"

"I'd go anywhere with you," he affirms, pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I'd kill for a pineapple margarita right now."

Bucky sits up suddenly, bringing you with him, arms wrapped around you.

"Then let's go get my girl a pineapple margarita."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The golden lights adorn the beams of wood above your head, the deck illuminated in the gentle glow. The ocean waves break the shore in a comfortingly repetitive motion, a calming soundtrack to the evening. You sit across from Bucky at your table for two, the sunset casting orange hues across the horizon.

"It's beautiful out here."

"Yeah," you agree, smiling. "The view is pretty good."

Your eyes haven't left his, lost in the sea blue of his irises. He chuckles, running his thumb over the back of your hand where it rests atop the table.

"This is our first date, you know."

"Really?"

"I mean, we've been 'dating' this whole time - but we've never gone out and had dinner like this. Held hands and all."

"You're right. Our first date of many, huh?"

"Our first of countless," he grins, brushing his lips over your knuckles in a gentle kiss.

"Where do my parents think you are?"

"Visiting a cousin in Nevada."

You laugh, and the sound makes Bucky light up, electricity running through his veins.

"You're a scarily good liar."

"To everyone but you."

"I used to think I was a good liar. Until I met you, that is."

Just as he's about to respond, your waitress appears, two pineapple margaritas in hand. She takes your orders and leaves, smiling at you.

"Oh, shit. She forgot to give us straws. I'm gonna grab some - be right back."

You chase her inside, tapping her shoulder gently.

"Excuse me - could I get a couple of straws, please?"

"Of course. Sorry!" she apologises, handing them to you.

"Thank you! Your shirt is so cute, by the way."

"Thanks - it's thrifted! You're gorgeous, girl. And your boyfriend is stupidly hot too. You're a pretty couple."

You thank her and laugh, returning to Bucky with a grin on your face.

"What's got you smiling?"

"The waitress called you my boyfriend."

"Huh. As much as I love the commitment... boyfriend kinda sounds like we're in ninth grade, doesn't it?"

You throw your head back, laughing with your entire being.

"That's what I thought. There's gotta be a better word. Partner? No, that makes us sound forty."

"I am almost forty."

"Oops."

Bucky rolls his eyes, but he can't wipe the blinding grin from his face. He takes out his phone and snaps a quick picture of you, admiring the way the breeze caresses your face as the setting sun beats down.

"Sneaky," you tease. "Let me see?"

He hands you the phone, letting you look through. You swipe right one too many times, and accidentally land on a picture of a blueprint laid out across a kitchen counter. His kitchen counter.

"Babe... what's this?"

You don't miss the way Bucky's cheeks heat up, blush creeping across his chest that's exposed by the V neckline of his blue button up. He stutters for a moment, before finding his footing.

"They're blueprints. Plans for a house."

"A house?"

"I want to build a house."

When you keep looking at him softly, he doubles down.

"I want to build a house for us."

Your breath hitches in your chest, the world going silent momentarily.

"You... you do?"

"My Dad worked in construction my entire childhood. I watched him build houses, apartment buildings, bungalows... everything. I've always wanted to do it, but never had reason to. Until now."

You squeeze his hand, urging him to continue.

"I've been planning it for upwards of ten years. But I'm taking it more seriously, now. Those blueprints are the final ones. It's all mapped out, down to the square inch. I've made some modifications for you, obviously."

He zooms in on the picture, pointing out areas on the plans.

"I've added a big island in the kitchen with a tonne of storage in it, for all of your supplies. I know you have that huge mixer, so I've made sure there's enough space for it to fit underneath with the doors closed."

You take a deep breath, lump in your throat forming unwillingly.

"Up here, there's a window at the top of the stairs. I've added a sketch of a bench which I'll upholster, so you can sit and read in the sunlight."

Tangling your legs with his under the table, you urge him to continue.

"I've also made sure there's a balcony off the master bedroom that overlooks the garden. I know how much you love sitting on yours in your apartment at home. There's probably like a hundred more little modifications for you, but those are just a few."

Tears are running down your cheeks freely, emotion escaping you like a flash flood.

"Bucky..."

"If it's too much too soon, please tell me. I won't be offended, baby. I know it's a lot."

"It's perfect."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You jump up from your seat and around the table, throwing yourself into his lap to kiss him happily.

"I can't wait to build a house with you, Buck."

He grins at you, joy radiating off him in waves.

"Buck?"

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

He blinks back tears for a second, processing the words he's been waiting to hear for what feels like an eternity.

"I love you too, honey girl. My pretty baby."

He leans in to kiss you tenderly, the rest of the world melting away. It feels like it's just the two of you, floating on cloud nine.

Suddenly, you get it. You understand why people say this is the greatest thing that'll ever happen.

It is. They were right all along.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

After several pineapple flavoured cocktails and a taco or four, you and Bucky take a slow stroll home, hand in hand along the sidewalk.

"You wanna have a sleepover tonight?" you ask, digging your heels into the ground to stop yourself from skipping with glee.

"Can't think of anything I want more," he chuckles.

You walk a little while longer, content to bask in the comfortable silence.

"Guess what happened a few days ago."

"What, honey?"

"Stella asked me to be her business partner."

He stops where he is, turning to face you but never letting go of your hand.

"Wait, really?"

"Mhmmm."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I was unsure, at first. But I'm going to do it. I've been thinking about this for a while, actually. We had to take a business class in culinary school, and I actually learned a lot. I've had a business plan for the future of the café drafted up for months. Numbers, locations, investors, everything. I'm really serious about this, you know."

He's gazing at you like you hung the moon, eyes bright and adoring.

You sit down on a bench, looking out over the coastal path. Bucky joins you, arm heavy over your shoulders.

"I can't stay here."

His head whips around.

"Baby..."

"I mean it, Buck. I like this city, I do, but I just can't settle. It feels like a placeholder until I can go home. And it's not fair to Stella, if it feels like I'm half in half out."

He goes to speak, but you're on a roll.

"I'm suggesting that we franchise the business. It's the logical next step anyway, it was just a matter of choosing the right location. I'm proposing somewhere a hell of a lot closer to home. To you. To my parents. And that means we'll have one branch on the east coast, and one on the west. We can start filling the middle, in the future."

"Are you... are you sure?"

"I've never been surer of anything, James Buchanan Barnes. I wanna start my life with you. Telling my parents, building a house, furthering my career. I'm ready, now."

Bucky grabs your face in his warm hands, kissing you with more passion than you ever thought possible. It's all the answer you need.

"I want you to read over my plan, when we get back to my place. But it's tight, Buck. I've been perfecting it for months. There's no way Stella can say no - I've made it so she won't want to. Besides, she just wants me to be happy. And this... this will make me happy. Happy beyond words."

Bucky stands up, wrapping his arms around your middle to bring you with him. He spins you around, laughing when you squeal in surprise.

"I'm so proud of you, honey baby. I love you so much."

"I love you," you grin. "More than I ever thought possible."

Bucky practically carries you home, both of you giddy on excitement and hope.

You wake up tangled in his arms, sunlight beaming down onto your skin through the open window. Happiness, you think. It's finally here.

Happiness. It's finally here.

tag list part one -

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[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 1 - Wishful Thinking

“AND THAT IS A CHAMPIONSHIP WIN FOR Y/N L/N! THIS MAKES IT THREE BACK TO BACK RACE WINS FOR THE DAMS’ RACER” 

The roar of the crowd is almost deafening. Well, it would be if you could actually hear it. 

“Good job, well done on another season. We couldn't be more proud,” your strategist Stella tells you over the radio. You can only sigh as you raise your hand to wave at the crowds. You don’t even know if they can see, but you try your best. 

You finally reply, “Good work team.” The switch to the radio is flipped back off, you don’t really want to hear anything else. You and your car finally arrive to Parc Ferme and stop right in front of the number 1 sign. It’s a familiar sight to behold. A second home if you will, since most of the season had been dominated by you. 

The steering wheel is turned off and undone and you gently place it down below. Reaching for the hallo, you pull yourself up with a grunt. Standing on the nose, you quickly turn around and raise your fists, earning you multiple cheers and screams. 

Instead of a usual jump, you quickly clamor down and walk to your team. You reach their open arms and are met with the multitudes of pats and hits to your helmet. Your eyes never settle on two specific people that you try to look for. Oh well, they didn’t have to come anyway. It wasn't like you were making history. However, Stella is right in the middle and you give her a giant hug. 

A second sigh is released, but a good one this time. It was more of a relief to be in the arms of one of your closest friends. 

A pat on the shoulder brings you out of your reverie. Turning around, you are met with the helmet of your teammate. 

“Arthur!” you yell and open your arms. It was a P1 – P2 finish for your team for the fourth time this year, the first where Arthur was on the top pedestal. This race not only decided your first championship, but his third second place since becoming your teammate. 

He quickly returned the hug and led you over to the weigh-in stations. After the number had been jotted down by an unknown official, you are finally allowed to take your helmet and balaclava off. Your baby hairs stick to your forehead, but you know your hair is going to get messed up by the champagne in just a few minutes.

“Think I will have a turn next year, non?” Arthur asks with a cheeky smirk, his accent emerging on the last few words. 

"Well, you will have all the chances,” you respond, setting your helmet down on podium. You both make your way to the cool down room and sit in your respective 1 and 2 chairs. 

“And welcome back to the y/n podcast,” Arthur jokes and you take a giant swig of your bottled water. 

“Ah Bearman is late today,” you say, “I guess he got tired of being number 2 guest.” You grin as Ollie walks in a few minutes later. 

“Already started without me?” he asks, watching your impressive overtake in turn 2, which in the end, helped you reach the finish line in a comfortable P1 finish. 

You just shrugged, “You were late.” 

Your eyes were glued to the screen. An impact between Ollie’s teammate Frederik Vesti and Theo Pourchaire had red flagged the race about halfway through. You possibly could have won by 30 seconds, if you had been able to continue and not have a second standing start. 

But oh well, you won anyway. 

A steward came to get you three a couple of moments later. 

She shook her head with a smile, “Why is it always you three?” 

The three of you looked at each other, shrugging. 

It just so happened that the only female, the one who was dominated the F2 world, her teammate, and his best friend almost always found themselves on the three podiums. Most of the time it was her, and others, her teammate, and then the rare sighting of the bear. 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Well, that was a lie. 

But for now, you wouldn’t want it any other way. Just the three of you. 

Ollie went first, followed by Arthur. 

Then it was your turn to take the middle and highest podium. Taking the trophy from the man, you raised it above your head, fist clenched above. It was truly a sight to behold. Your head was held high as your national anthem blared through the sound speaker, and then the French anthem played for the team. 

Right when the anthem finished, the familiar tune of “Les Toreadors Carmen” began. You quickly picked up your bottle of champagne. Slightly shaking the bottle, you quickly pointed it towards the two boys, who had already started spraying theirs at you. 

Trying to get away, you accidently kicked your trophy off the top step. With wide eyes, you watched at the top popped off, leaving the base and the actual trophy apart. You quickly looked up and saw both the boys pointing and laughing. You stood in amazement and looked around as if to see if anyone had seen it. Who were you kidding though, of course people had seen it and cameras as well. Oops. At least it was your trophy. 

Your hair soon became sticky with the sparkling liquid, your race suit becoming a darker color as it was saturated. You wiped your eyes and you brought the over-sized bottle to your lips. Looking straight into the go-pro, you took a swig and crossed your eyes. 

The F2 page would definitely use that footage later. 

After the celebrations were over, you quickly made your way towards the journalists that were waiting outside of your garage. 

They all shouted your name, wanting to get a quote for whatever paper or website they were writing for. You quickly walked up and grabbed one of the microphones. 

A familiar blond woman spoke up first, “Wow, what an amazing accomplishment you’ve done today. How are you feeling?” 

There was the overused question. 

You took a deep breath before replying, “Ah it was a good run. Not everyone gets an opportunity to do this so I am very happy.” Your smile, however, never really reaches your eyes. 

A man with glasses speaks up next, “I know you must be ready for the break after this history breaking win. Do you have any plans for the upcoming winter vacation?” 

“Well, you know. Just be at home and enjoy it,” you paused before smirking, “And get some more hours in on the sim. Just doing what I normally do when I’m home.” You shrug after you finish. 

They reporters jot down things on their pads of paper. You think that you can finally go back to the comfort of your driver’s room when one more man speaks up. This time with a weird colored tie. 

“Regarding the recent hiring of Bianca Bustamante at McLaren for their Driver Development Program, how are you feeling knowing that a woman, not even in F2, now has a chance to drive an F1 car before you do?” 

Now that question gets you and you pause. 

What? 

You stutter out, “I’m sorry?” 

The man takes a deep breath. “Well I know that you recently projected that you’d be interested in an Formula 1 team as big as McLaren and hoped that you’d be able to get one foot in the door. I mean, you’ve been in F2 for three years now, and you aren’t even a reserve driver?” The man pressed his recorder closer to you. 

Suddenly, the outside felt like it was closing in. Taking a deep breath, you try to answer to the best of your ability. 

“Well, number one, I wasn’t aware that Bianca had been signed, but good for her. There always needs to be more openings for women in motor sports and I’m glad that she got in. Am I disappointed? Sure, but that’s life. My turn will come soon.” 

The man nodded and looked away. 

Seeing as no one spoke up after your statement, you said a quick thank you before handing the microphone to someone else. 

Finally you could retreat back to your room and finally change. 

The minute the door close, you leaned back against it and slid to the floor. Reaching for your phone, you quickly open the Instagram app. Orange upon orange is the first thing you see. 

Headlines of “BUSTAMANTE SIGNS WITH MCLAREN FOR DRIVER DEVELOPMENT” were all you could see. 

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Of course they would go with her. Much more pretty, definitely meets the CEO’s look of younger drivers, would look gorgeous in papaya. 

All the things you believed yourself not to be. 

You knew it was a long stretch sending an email wanting to discuss future plans with the papaya team. They already had all the reserve drivers they needed, and apparently the development drivers too. 

It seemed like every door for every team was closed at the moment.

Hauling yourself off the floor, you peeled your racing suit off, leaving the champagne soaked material to hang at your hips. 

Walking over to the small desk in the corner, you grabbed your headphones. Connecting them to your phone, the familiar voice of Noah Kahan filled the void. 

You were there for a little more than an hour before someone came looking for you. Not surprised, you let Arthur into your own little paradise. Someplace where the reporters and cameras could not get to you. 

He sat down on your bed while you sat down on the floor. 

He inhaled sharply before speaking. 

“I saw the interview.” 

Your head bowed in defeat. “Yeah.” 

“You know, it’s not true what they’re saying. You deserve a seat and you know this.” 

You nodded. “Well, they don’t seem to think so. What is it going to take Thur? I've already exhausted my options. There's nothing here for me. I don’t think I’ll ever be promoted. I’m not…” you trailed off, not knowing what to say. 

Arthur quickly shakes his head before sliding down to join you on the floor. He places both hands on either side of you head and maneuvers you to look at him. 

“Listen to me,” he tells you, accent a little heavier, “you are one of the best drivers of our age. You cannot go bashing yourself when a reporter thinks it good to get a rouse out of you.” 

“Well, I’m no Max Verstappen…or your brother.” 

“And you don’t have to be. All you need to do is be Y/n L/n.” 

He smiled. You only nodded again, soaking in his words. 

After a small bit of silence, you spoke up in a wishful voice, “If you were to sign with any F1 team, which one would it be?” 

He thought for a moment, “I think the answer for me better be Ferrari, to be with my brother. But with their shit season so far, I don’t think I’d want to drive that tractor.” 

You wheezed and held him tight as the giggles shook your body. Arthur could help but join in. After you both calmed down, your breaths were only heard. 

“What about you?” he turns his head, wishful asking. 

“With my luck, I’d also have to drive a tractor,” you cracked a smile. 

“Then we’d be driving tractors together. But I’m serious, which one?” 

You hummed, before silencing. Thoughts scrambling to come up with an answer. Sure, you had dreams. Dreams of papaya, green, teal and black, white and navy, burgundy. But never red as Arthur wishes. 

You finally answer, “I’d take the Bull. Drive a little illegal rocket ship.” 

Arthur huffed. “Are we destined to be rivals Miss L/n? I don’t think the racing world could handle another Leclerc-Verstappen rivalry.” 

“Oh be quiet. I’m not on his level. And besides, if something were to happen, it would be nothing but an inchident…on the race.” 

Now it was Arthur’s turn to sputter and laugh. You decided to disconnect your headphones and let the music fill the small room. 

Placing your head on Arthur’s shoulder, you both let out sighs. 

Wishful thinking, that’s all it was.