#this is not really anything just throwing it in the wind hopeing some 1 out there gets me

[yourlocalbug]

comic thumbnail ive been sitting on for a while. never gonna finish it because im too busy with other projects but. still putting this out out there.

characters who are ostracized from humanity when they want nothing more than to be part of and interact with it. gets me every time.

[girl-lostconnection]

Definitely not the last part, I like this au a little too much, I think. And you, guys, seemed to like the first part so here’s some more

Unsweetened Lemonade AU (part 2)

part 1 || part 3

Warnings: bullying, allegory to abuse, eating as coping mechanism, Punk!Ghost x Nerd!Reader, violence

Simon walks back home wrapped in soft scarf, still faintly smelling like you.

He’s warm for the first time in what feels like forever, his cheeks no longer burning from harsh English winter winds, nose no longer numb from cold, dull headaches he always gets in winter subsiding.

It’s unnerving and new and he’s not sure if he wants to snatch the scarf off or hold on.

Fucking bliss.

But scarf is warm and it’s soft and it’s enough to keep him from getting hypothermia on his way home.

It’s nice. It’s bloody lovely and he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

And maybe Simon should have tossed it away as soon as he got home but he doesn’t.

He can’t really afford to throw away the first nice thing he got (he’s got it, right? It’s his now, you won’t take it away, won’t you?) in a long time.

Simon folds it neatly and hides it under the mattress, fingers lingering on warm fabric of it, uncomfortable tightness in his chest making it harder to push air down his throat.

It’s nice. He’s not used to nice.

He can’t get used to nice. He can’t afford to get used to nice and hope and dream and- (hope is a silent but very sadistic killer. Hope takes away everything, pulling out every thread of your being until you are naked in the snow and your lips are blue and your cheeks freezing and you feel like begging and crying and pleading).

No, nice isn’t for Ghost. Just not in the cards, probably. Wasn’t meant to be for someone like him.

Still Simon isn’t sure if he can just leave the fluffy thing at home, not with the way dad is ravaging around the house, nitpicking at every bloody thing, going through their things and ruining-ruining-ruining.

Simon feels like everything that his dad touches gets stained.

Gets dirty and broke and useless.

Turns into rubbish.

Simon feels like rubbish a lot nowadays.

Simon packs the scarf in his worn out backpack, thrusting it deep at the bottom of it. He isn’t sure he’s ready to wear it out just like that, at least not this close to home. Or close to you.

It feels like weakness. Why does it feel like weakness?It’s just a scarf. It’s his scarf now, he can wear it, it doesn’t mean anything.

Simon allows himself a weakness when he smokes behind school, scarf wrapped around his neck, fabric clinging to harsh lines of his face. Smoke gets soaked up in fabric quickly, like it’s definitely his now. Smelling like him, clinging to him, keeping him nice and warm.

No one can take it away from him now. Not even you — he’ll fight if he needs to, but he’s keeping the bloody thing.

Ghost is greedy for any scrap of kindness that he can stomach, tender bloodying insides of his heart ready to absorb every crumb and every drop.

He’s so hungry for it, always so fucking hungry — it never goes away, no matter how much he eats. No matter if he can eat at all.

He makes himself go back inside before the bell rings, shoulders square and tense — almost an instinct now, sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it.

School is the same grey nothing — teenagers can be cruel but Ghost is one mean dog of a lad.

Disproportionate and angry, limbs too long, palms too big, punches never pulled and teeth always bared.

And it’s nothing, it’s just one of these days when people are bored and when you get the usual cruel thing thrown in your face, like you aren’t even there.

Like it’s okay to stain someone like that.

And Ghost isn’t your friend, you are no one to each other — opposite sides of the same “loser” spectrum, he just wears his better (or he thinks he does, not like anyone has enough guts to tell him otherwise).

Ghost is no one to you and he doesn’t do nice, he’s the furthest thing from knight in shining armour because frankly, maybe something is fucking wrong with you since you never fight.

But then your things are getting spilled on the floor and someone steps on the notebook — cover worn-out, well-loved and there’s sudden aching rage in your eyes that makes a hungry mutt part of him lean in.

Oh.

Oh.

So there’s someone inside that shell of a person. The lights can be turned on, eh?

Mutt inside him raises its big head, tugs air in, smelling your anger, smelling your tears, smelling the blood pumping in your ears so loudly it’s difficult to breathe.

Because it’s too early, it’s too much, it’s too hurtful and you can’t help it but you are madmadmad, angry sharp tears prickling in the corners of your eyes, palms curling in first (silly, you don’t know how to fight, you never fight, what’s use in your fists)

And there’s no actual way you could do something in your situation and your bully’s boot presses harder on the notebook, pages starting to tear under deliberate malicious pressure.

Simon doesn’t think twice before his fist connects to your bully’s face, sickening crunch of the bone visceral in suddenly quiet hallway.

Simon hits so they won’t even think twice. So they never get up and fight. So they stay down.

Where they fucking belong.

And no one stops him. Part of him scoffs at this in irritation, because of fucking course.

Just like no one stopped the asshole who has been making your life hell.

No one wants to get in his way because everybody knows that Simon “Ghost” Riley is aggressive cunt with chip on his shoulder and deep seated eyes of a feral mutt.

You don’t look at him when you scramble to get away, further, frantically pushing your things back in your bag — notebooks and stationary all over the less than clean floors. God, what their janitor even does on the clock, look at the state of the damn thing.

Simon doesn’t say anything but picks up your notebooks and pushes them in your hands before leaving without a single word.

It’s nothing, just favour returned.

Now you can’t ask for the scarf back — he’s paid it off.

Ghost can’t handle people being nice to him. Ghost isn’t sure he wants to handle people being mean to you either.

And it would be the end of it, but for some reason during lunch you plop down across from him, sinking feeling in your stomach when he sends you a glare.

But you aren’t moving anywhere — you want to eat in peace and no one in their right fucking mind would try to disturb perpetually brooding Simon Riley when he eats.

So you sit with him and don’t scurry off when he huffs out air in short annoyed pant, brows furrowing, eyes boring into you.

But you don’t talk to him and don’t look at him and don’t try to extend your hand.

You just want to eat in peace. You just want a moment’s quiet. A moment’s security.

So Simon doesn’t bite and deliberately doesn’t look your way either.

You two aren’t friends and he’s not a bloody knight in shining armour — you probably have nothing in common. Ghost is not planning on finding out for sure.

But for some reason you push towards him your apple, making it roll across the table with the same sound Simon hears in his head when he’s overwhelmed.

It practically falls in his lap and then on the floor before he manages to catch it.

Simon wants to ask what the fuck you do you think you are doing.

Simon wants to snarl and make you choke on your fucking pity, because he doesn’t need it.

But you aren’t looking at him, you are doing your best to stare down on your plate, shovelling food with the same raw desperate intensity he knows all too well.

You don’t look at him and you don’t extend your hand.

So Simon doesn’t bite. Simon takes the apple and hides it in his backpack, not saying anything.

Just another favour to repay later, that’s all, right?

Tags: @itsmadamehydra

[gingernut1314]

Sack of Potatoes ch. 3

Summary: You messed with the wrong gang and just as you think you've lost, a familiar face comes to your rescue.

Content: female reader, gendered terms, pre-season 1 arcane, introduction to Vander, Canon typical violence (description of being jumped), young Silco, young Vander, young reader, the boys come to your rescue, slight Arcane season 2/League of Legends spoiler (Janna)

Word Count: 2.9K

A/N: Okay, so I've kind very loosely planed things out and there is only going to be one more chapter as them as teens and then we are officially aging up! I hope you all enjoy!!

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You had royally fuck up. 

More so than usual, which was saying something because you had a tendency to fuck up on a daily basis. But today, gods, today you’d pissed off the wrong gang of Undercitians. A group known to put fourteen-year-olds six feet under for fun. 

What had you done, exactly? Well, this gaggle of idiots tended to take trophies from whoever they terrorized, and one item in particular had caught your eye instantly. 

In lack of better words, it was pretty and shiny and you wanted it. 

And it had been too easy to steal it off them. Some would say they deserved to have had it stolen just for that fact alone. 

You cut sharply down a crowded road, pushing and shoving people out of your way. The gang was too close for your liking. You could clearly make out every curse and insult they threw your way. 

If you could just get to the docks, you could take them head-on without fear, but you were in the heart of the city and nowhere near the docks. 

Just as you made to push out of the crowd and run into any building you could get into, a pair of hands grabbed you around the waist. You screamed, but a hand was shoved over your mouth before you could really get a strong bellow out. 

“Thought you could get away, you fucking cunt.” The guy who’d grabbed you hissed gleefully. 

You were dead. Oh gods you were so dead. 

“I caught our little fishy!” He shouted, his gang throwing up wicked laughs as he dragged you away. You wriggled and thrashed and kicked about, trying desperately to get away, but it was no use. He was stronger than you by a mile. 

You were going to endure a slow, truly horrible death all because you’d wanted something shiny. Because your greed had gotten the best of you. 

Weak! Pathetic!

If only you had listened to Janna. If only you stayed put when she told you to stay put. Of only you had stayed in the dunk little cave you called home and practiced your magic like she said.

Stupid. So, so stupid. 

You were dragged down a dark alley and thrown roughly to the ground. The skin on your hands and knees split, but you pushed the pain down and got up as fast you could muster.  

Get away. 

You needed to get away-- 

“Where do you think you're going little fishy?” You screamed as another pair of hands grabbed you, Before you could even throw a punch, you were shoved into one of the brick walls of the alley, nose giving a blood-curdling crunch. The pain made it so you could only give a pathetic whimper. 

If there was anything you hated more than enforcers or fancy Piltover pansies or gaggles of foul-smelling boys, it was breaking your nose.

More hands grabbed you, tossing you against the wall, to the ground, and into more awaiting hands. Hands that grabbed at you shirt and hair. Everything was happening so fast. Too fast for you to get a hold of yourself and fight back. 

Weak!

There was no hope of being rescued, you knew that. 

In The Lanes, it was kill or get killed. Fend for yourself and expect nothing from anyone. 

And Janna was nowhere near the city right now, her winds having been called back to the sea for some reason unknown to you.

It was over--your life. Over when it had only truly just begun. 

“Giving up so quickly, fishy?” One of the cruel boys teased, grabbing a fist full of hair and pulling you to your feet. A small, sad sound escaped your lips. “We’re not done playing yet.” The guy, who was as butt ugly as you could get, got right up in your face. His yellow teeth were on display for your eyes and yours eyes only. His breath was so vulgar it nearly made you puke. 

“I think,” You gasped out, “you need a breath mint.” 

Rotting teeth did not like that. 

The guy dealt a swift punch to your temple, your knees nearly giving out from under you but you fought too damn hard to keep yourself up.

Gods , your vision was getting spotty. You tried to blink the blackness away, but it only made it worse. 

“You little whore. You’re gonna--” 

“That’s not a very kind thing to say to a lady.” A voice spoke from behind you and the gang. 

It was a voice you’d heard before…but your mind was too foggy to truly pinpoint it. 

“Don’t you know not to stick your nose in our fucking business?” One of the gang memebers hissed. 

“If you can call beating a kid to death business.” The voice said something else but your hearing was faded in and out. 

Child?

You were not a child. 

Suddenly, you were thrown to the ground, pain flaring in your elbow as more skin was ripped open. If you made it out of this, you were going to be in pain for days.  

And to top your horrid day off, you landed in something wet. Something you prayed to any god listening was just street water and not piss. 

Shouting filled your ears, but faded out in seconds. 

Shit, that couldn’t be good. 

The screaming and your hearing loss. 

Get up, get up! Your fogging mind screamed at you. It was the only thing you could hear anymore, so you were inclined to listen. 

With gritted teeth, you struggled to get to your hands and knees, your open wounds screaming almost as loudly as your brain was. Before you could shove to your feet, a pair of hands grabbed you under your armpits, trying to get you up.

No, no, no! Not again! They’ll kill you!

And you found you really, really didn’t want to die. 

You clenched your fist and swung without a second thought. 

Knuckles collided with someone's jaw. 

Pain flared in your fingers brightly. 

You’d fucking broken them --gods damn it!

The person, a man by the sound of it, gave a grunt, his grip on you loosening. You ignored the new pain in your hand and wiggled out of your captor’s grip, falling back to the ground in the process. 

Someone was saying something, but you couldn’t make it out past the pounding of your heart and buzzing of your ears.

Your vision slowly started to fill with color again just as another pair of hands placed themselves on your shoulder. 

“--ts me! It’s me, remember?” 

That voice. You knew that voice. You liked that voice.

And that voice was calling your name. You didn’t just give your name out to anyone and the only person you had given it to in the past few months was…

You blinked rapidly, turning to look at the boy who was calling your name. 

Long, dark hair attached to a thin, sharp face. A face that bore two blue-green eyes.

Seafoam eyes.

“Silco?” Your voice came out cracky and hoarse from all the screaming you’d done. The boy nodded, thin lips set in a frown. 

“Yes.” You looked back towards the alley you’d been dragged into, finding bodies sprawled out down the tiny space. Some of the bodies looked like they’d been beaten to hell and have one hell of a headache when they woke up. But the other bodies--they didn’t move or breathe and sat in pools of red. 

What the hell…had--had Silco done that? 

Why?  

Why the hell was he here? 

Better yet, why the hell would he risk his life to save yours? 

Your heart gave a painful twist in your chest. 

What if he was here to finish you off? 

You pulled yourself out of Silco’s grip, all but throwing yourself at the closest brick wall. All your wounds screamed at you to stop, be you had to keep moving. 

“What are you doing?” Silco asked, seemingly unamused. You hissed through your teeth and pulled your feet under you, using the wall as support. “You’re just going to hurt yourself further.” 

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” You snapped, taking Silco in again. He had stood back to his full height, a smirk on his thin face. 

He found this funny. 

“You’d think she’d be more appreciative, seeing as we saved her life.” He spoke, but he wasn’t talking to you. No, what you had failed to take in was the other guy standing in the alley with Silco, rubbing his jaw. A tall, hulking guy who could no doubt squeeze the life out of you with little to no effort.  

“Throws a mean punch, I’ll give her that.” The gigantic man’s his voice was warmer than that of Silco’s. Not that Silco’s voice wasn’t nice. You much preferred it over this stranger’s. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Silco ran a hand through his longer hair, casting a glance toward the other guy. 

“I’m Vander. A friend.” The other guy spoke, seeming to try and come off as unintimidating as he could. It was working, but only a bit. Like--a hair’s width bit. 

“Why were those halfwits after you, anyhow?” Silco asked, changing the subject off his friend quickly. You sniffed sharply, your nose so clogged with blood it was a struggle to breathe. 

You’d have to fix that quickly before it healed crooked. 

You reached into your jacket pocket, pulling the golden flask you’d stolen out. Silco caught it with ease when you tossed it his way, though his eyes widened like it might explode.

You nearly laughed, remembering the last time he saw you throw a flask. A flask that had exploded. 

“They stole that off some rich guy from Piltover. I thought it was an okay replacement for the one I broke.” 

“Wait--this is the girl that chipped your teeth?” Vander gave a deep laugh that lifted your spirits near instantly. You looked back to Silco whose lips were purposely glued shut, his arms crossed. He was the embodiment of annoyance.

“You’re kidding?” 

“Made a V shape and everything.” You all but slapped a hand over your mouth, a small laugh escaping your lips. 

“Need I remind you I just saved your ass.” Silco seethed, giving you a direct look at his front teeth. 

They were chipped, alright. In that same V shape Vander had said. 

You let out a chest-rumbling laugh you couldn’t have helped stop even if you had wanted to. A laugh that had most, if not all, of your wounds barking at you again. Vander joined in with a bellowing laugh right alongside you. 

“Holy shit! Oh gods, that’s horrible.” You spoke, trying to stifle your laugher. Silco’s face flushed red and his eyes narrowed. He was pissed now. “I guess I owe you more than some fancy flask, huh?” 

“Oh, you owe me for more than my teeth. I just saved your life.” Vander walked over then, slapping Silco on the shoulder. 

“Come on, brother, don’t be like that. We’re just having a little fun.” Silco gruffed, shrugging Vander’s hand off his shoulder sharply. 

“Well, I don’t share in your amusement.” 

“I know, I know,” A bright smile pulled to his lips, “How about we get a look at you, yeah?” He asked, turning his attention back on you. 

Your heart twisted in your chest again and you tried to stand straight. Tried to look like you weren’t some weak, pathetic little creature.

He isn’t going to hurt you. He just helped save your life for god's sake! But as Vander got closer, you couldn’t ignore the fear that burst from your chest. 

“Thank you, really, but I can manage on my own,” You stumbled out a bit too quickly, trying to push off the wall to walk away. Your knees nearly gave out again and you fell back to the wall with a frustrated hiss. 

“You can hardly stand on your own. My father owns The Last Drop, just over there. We’ll get you patched up and you can be on your way.” You cut a look over to Silco who was still sulking behind Vander. When he noticed you looking his way, his eyes narrowed in that calculating, all-seeing way they had when you’d first met him.

“Vander, you’re scaring the kid.” He briskly made his way over to you.

“I’m not a kid.” You hissed as Silco came to a stop before you. 

“I feel as though we’ve already done this.” He extended his hand for you to take. You eyed it, then Vander, who smiled your way, before your gaze landed back on Silco. His eyes hadn't left you. Not even once .

“Nothing is going to happen to you. Not with us around. Promise.” Silco softly said. 

It shocked you, his tone. Though you didn’t know him in the least, you could tell just by the look on Vander's face this wasn’t a regular occurrence. 

But what did that mean? Was it something to worry about?

You pushed your thoughts down as your pain began to bubble up once more. You really needed to sit down and these two didn’t seem horrible . 

Hesitantly, you reached out your unhurt hand. 

Silco was quick to change his position to accommodate this, taking your hand up in his steady one. He gave a kind nod, pulling your arm over his shoulder and wrapping his other around your waist.

Damn-- he may be built like a sting bean but there was muscle under those clothes of his. Muscles you could feel work as they helped you along. 

Your nose took another clogged inhale of breath and you felt your heart untwist and flutter against your ribs. 

It was very hard for anyone in The Lanes to smell good, thanks to the overall nasty atmosphere. It was very rare to come across anyone who didn’t smell like the polluted air they all lived in, but Silco-- Gods he smelled good. Fresh. Like he’d been able to take a shower recently.

It almost had you forgetting about all your aches and burning pains until he started all but pulling you back down the alley. 

“OW! Fuck ! You could try to be gentle .” You whined, grabbing a fistful of his jacket and tugging like he might stop him.

“Oh, would you stop your complaining?” Silco huffed. “This is me being gentle.”

“I’m a complainer . I complain.” You huffed right back at him. 

“I can tell.” Silco was quick to shoot back. A quick response that stirred a sort of-- excitement in your chest. There were very few people who didn’t find your ability to go on and on annoying. Very few that did this sort of--back-and-forth. A back-and-forth Silco was and had engaged with you. 

You wondered for a moment if he was annoyed. If he would tell you to shut up and drop you right back into the bloody alley and leave you there.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to complain if you weren’t dragging me along like I was a sack of potatoes.” You continued.

“Might as well be a sack of potatoes.” 

“I have dense bones.” 

“I can tell.” You have a mockingly offended gasp.

“I’ll have you know my dense bones are a veryyy sensitive topic to me.” Silco gave a scoff that sounded more like a stifled chuckle. 

“Wasn’t it you who compared yourself to a sack of potatoes?” 

“I don’t remember that.” Silco shook his head in that same held-back amusement. “I bet your bones are brittle. Like a strong wind would knock you right over.” 

“I’ll have you know my brittle bones are a very sensitive topic to me.” You pressed your lips together tightly, trying your hardest not to let the laughter bubbling in your chest out. But the longer you held it in, the more it leaked out in sharp pfftted spurts. 

“O-oh yeah?”

“Oh yes.” Silco continued, a glimmer in his eyes that made it all the more difficult to not burst into laughter. “Ever since I was a child people would point out my brittle bones. And here you are now, doing the same.” He gave a mocking forlorned shake of his head. “After I just saved your life as well.”

“I didn’t need saving.” 

“Oh really?” You nodded matter-of-factly.

“Really. I was this close to getting the upper hand.” You showed just how close with your hurt fingers, wincing at the pain that shot through your hand at the movement. “You ruined my plans.” 

“Well forgive me. Shall I stop carrying you too?” 

“If my dense bones are a hindrance then be my guest. I can walk on my own.” 

“I doubt that.” 

“I can . Be better than getting dragged around so brutishly.” Laugher filled your ears. Not Silco’s laughter which you were so close to hearing again, but a deep, bellowing laugh. You turned your head just as Silco did to find Vander there. You’d almost forgotten all about the hulking man. 

“What’s so funny?” Silco shot his way. Vander merely held his hands up as if to ward off his friend. 

“Oh nothin’, nothin’.” Vander gave Silco a look you couldn’t quickly figure out. A look that had Silco’s cheek grow a bit of a pinkish hue.

You were once more annoyed at your inability to fully grasp all emotions and silently cursed Janna and her near-robotic ways. 

You watched Silco grit his teeth Vander’s way, that pink hue only deepening when he glanced your way and found you watching him closely.

You liked that color on him. You liked it very much.

Previous | Next

[eminems-skittles]

Jess Mariano with the prompts 1. “Are you cold?” “No.” And 12. “My jacket looks good on you.” (But they’re not dating yet and there’s tension between them🥹)

25 days of christmas event

pairings: jess mariano x reader

warnings: none just fluff

a/n: hope you like it anon!!! i love writing jess <3

why you were voluntarily out in the cold, harsh wind, you weren’t sure. it was the morning of the snowman building contest and there was nothing you wanted more than to be snuggled in bed with all the blankets you could find. the cold air hitting your face was probably the harshest of wake up calls and the cold bench you were sitting on did little to prevent the shivers that were jolting through you. the only thing offering any relief from the icy air was the near empty cup of coffee from luke’s diner.

making the trek to luke’s seemed to take longer than you would have and you debated running across the street to get there that much quicker.

you sighed gratefully as the warmth of the diner overtook you, heating your cold nose and cheeks while you removed your gloves.

“hey y/n,” jess said as he walked by you with a smile that seemed to only be reserved for you. “i’ll be right there.”

you nodded, your face heating up for an entirely different reason. of course he had to be there when you were nowhere near functioning as a normal person would. you walked over to the counter and sat down, relieved to be sitting on something that didn’t feel like sitting on an ice cube.

“more coffee?” luke asked, moving to grab the pot from where it was sitting. you opened your to-go cup and placed it on the counter in front of you.

“yes please,” you sighed. luke filled the paper cup up with coffee before moving on to the next customer. jess appeared behind the counter a moment later.

“luke already get you coffee?” he asked. you nodded as you took a sip, the warm liquid already warming you up. “i was just about to head out there, you coming?”

“sure,” you agreed, immediately mentally cursing yourself. you were freezing you didn’t want to go back outside so why on earth did you agree? it was simple. jess asked you to, so you said yes.

jess called to luke saying he’d be right back and the two of you made your way back into the harsh cold. he led the way to the same bench you previously occupied. a silence that was equal parts awkward yet comfortable over took the two of you and the shivers that wracked your body returned.

“are you cold?” jess asked after a minute of silently observing you. that seemed to be what he did best. he was always observing, picking up on the things you believed to be nearly imperceptible.

“no,” you replied stubbornly. he could see you were cold, you might as well have ‘i’m freezing’ written across your forehead in sharpie. “it’s just a little chilly.”

“y/n, you’re shaking like a chihuahua,” he stated simply. before you knew it, he was shrugging off his jacket and placing it in your hands. “put it on.”

“aren’t you going to be cold?” you asked him.

“i’m going back in soon, i’ll be fine,” he said. you sighed and stood up, removing the jacket you were currently wearing and replacing it with his much larger, must warmer jacket. he smiled at the sight and if he noticed you subtly inhaling the traces of his cologne on the jacket, he didn’t say anything.

you smiled shyly at him muttering a quiet thank you. his hand came up to your face, pushing a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. his eyes trailed down to his jacket again.

his hand was resting on your cheek now and his thumb brushed across it, trying to send some warmth to your face in order to stop you from freezing. he leaned in but was interrupted by something cold hitting him.

“get back to work!” luke yelled, brushing snow off his hands. as he was walking back to the diner, he shouted “i’m not paying you to flirt!”

“did he really just throw a snowball at me?” jess asked incredulously, trying to get the snow off of his t-shirt.

you laughed and he smiled back at you. “so you have to get back?”

“apparently,” jess grumbled, annoyed that his uncle cut his time with you short. he started walking back to the diner but before he could get too far, he turned back to face you. “my jacket looks good on you. keep it.”

and like that, he had disappeared back into the diner and your crush on him grew impossibly larger. suddenly, the cold wasn’t all that unbearable, the warmth from his jacket (and his words) spreading through you like wildfire.

[winchesterwild78]

What Happens in Rome pt 2

Characters: Jensen x Reader, Jared, other cast members mentioned 

Warnings: slight angst, confessed feelings, SMUT!, fluff

A/N: Part 2 of this little nugget of a story. I hope y’all enjoyed this. I’m on Spring Break sitting poolside and just relaxing. So the words are flowing. 

This chapter picks up the next morning after the drunken confession. 

This also inspired another story I’m going to write with Dean and the character the reader played in Supernatural. 

Catch up on part 1 here. 

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own and Jensen is single in this story. 

Please don’t take my work. Feel free to share, like and comment. Feedback is appreciated. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next morning I woke up to the irritating sound of my alarm going off. 

I was exhausted. After Jensen left my mind wouldn’t shut off. 

Did he really mean what he said or was he just saying it because he thought he could get lucky. 

So many questions swirled around but now I had to get ready for the convention. 

I showered, got ready and headed downstairs to breakfast. 

Arriving at the room the hotel had set up for us for breakfast I took a deep breath before walking in. 

When I walked in I looked around but didn’t see Jensen. My heart sank a little, but I was a little relieved. How was I going to face him today? 

I sat eating and drinking my coffee. I heard Jared before I saw him. 

When he walked in I looked up and saw him and Jensen. Damn Jensen looked good. 

I could tell he was hungover, but he still looked good. 

Jared grabbed a plate and some coffee and sat at the table with me. “Hey short stack. How was your night?” 

My eyes flicked to his and I chuckled a little, “Good, but apparently not as good as yours. I see you and Ackles are a bit hungover this morning.” 

Jared glanced over his shoulder and smirked, “Yeah. We were celebrating.” I smirked, “So I heard.” 

Jensen walked over and sat beside Jared. He sat his food and coffee down and looked at me. “Good morning, Y/N. Are you ready for today?” 

I looked at him, “Yep. I’m excited to see the fans, take photos with you two and Mark, and do our panels. It looks like I have one with you two and Mark today.”

Jensen nodded as he ate and drank his coffee. Jared stood up to get a refill, leaving Jensen and I alone. 

Silence fell over the table. I didn’t know what to say. Then he spoke. 

“So last night was fun.” My eyes met his, “Yep. I missed hanging out with you guys. We should do it again before we go back home.” 

Jensen nodded, swallowed and looked at me, “I wasn’t just talking about dinner.” 

Before I could respond Jared came back. “So what’s up Y/N? Any new guy got your heart?” 

Jensen’s head whipped up and he looked at Jared, “Jeez man. What kind of question is that?” 

Jared chuckled, “Just curious man.” 

I smirked a little. Figured I could make Jensen squirm. “Well, Jared. There is a guy I’ve got my eye on. I’ve been waiting to just throw caution to the wind and tell him how I really feel about him.” 

Jared sat up and Jensen’s eyes flicked to me. “Oh, so have you not told him how you feel or does he know?” 

“Oh I’m sure he knows. Timing has just been off. You know how it goes. Boy meets girl.  Girl falls in love with the boy. Boy is in love with someone else. Girl dates other people. Boy breaks up with the “love of his life” but the girl is with someone else.” 

Jared’s mouth was open, “Damn, so is this guy with anyone else right now?” 

I shook my head no, “But I’m not sure I’m what he really wants. Maybe he sees me as a rebound, a safety net that he knows will love him even if he walks away.” 

Jensen’s eyes flashed with something that resembled shock and sadness. Before Jared or I could say anything Jensen spoke up, “Is that really what you think? That you’re some kind of rebound for me?” 

Jared’s head turned towards Jensen, “Whoa dude, where did that come from?” 

Jensen’s reaction took me by surprise, “Jensen I don’t know what to think. You’ve been divorced for almost a year and you’ve never said anything to me. Now that we’re here you come to my room, kiss me like you did, whisper things I’ve longed to hear you say. Then you get drunk and come to my room trying to have sex with me. What am I supposed to think?” 

Jared’s eyes were wide. He had no idea what to say, “Um, guys. Maybe you two should take this somewhere more private. Work it out before the convention starts.”

Jensen and I nodded. We walked quietly back to my room. Each step heavier than the last.

When we got in the room he sat on the chair and I sat on the bed. 

I sighed, “I’m sorry, Jensen. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just don’t know what or how to feel about this, us. I’ve loved you since we filmed together. I’ve been in love with you through it all. I couldn’t marry David because I didn’t love him like I love you, but you were married and happy. You had children with her.” 

He stood, walked over to me and pulled me into his arms, “I love you. I’ve known I’ve loved you for a while. I never acted on it because I was married and you seemed happy with David. Even when we started having problems and I knew you were single I didn’t want to pull you into this crap. Don’t ever think you’re a rebound. You’re so much more than that.” 

Before I could respond Jensen cupped my face and kissed me. The kiss was full of so much passion and love, tears flowed down my face. 

When he pulled away he wiped the tears away, “I love you, Y/N and last night I wanted you so much. I’m glad you stopped it though because I want to be completely present and sober the first time we’re together.” 

I smiled and nodded, “me too Jensen.” 

He kissed me again and pulled me tight. 

“As much as I want to take you in that bed, we really should get to the convention. Promise me we’ll continue this conversation later.” 

I leaned into him, “I promise, Jensen. As soon as we are finished we come back here or to your room and continue this. Going as far as we’re comfortable.” 

He nodded and smirked, “I already have an idea of how far I want to go.” I smiled, “Me too.” 

Jensen hugged me and placed a soft kiss on my lips, “Come on sweetheart, let’s go.” 

I nodded and walked out of the room with Jensen. His hand reached for mine and I looked down at our fingers intertwined and then up at him. “Is this okay?” 

I nodded, “Yeah, more than okay.” 

We got on the elevator and Jensen pushed me against the wall, pinning my arms above my head. His lips were on mine. I moaned in his mouth and he swallowed it. 

We felt the elevator stop and Jensen dropped my arms with a smirk. 

My face was flushed as an elderly couple got on. The woman looked at Jensen who flashed his killer smile at her, pulling a giggle from her. 

She looked at me and winked. Causing the flush on my face to spread. 

Jensen’s fingers intertwined with mine as we stepped off the elevator. 

Jared was waiting, “Did you two figure it out?” Then he looked down and saw Jensen holding my hand. “Oh thank god! You two have been dancing around this for years.” 

My jaw fell open, “What?!” Jared laughed as we climbed in the car, “Jensen has been in love with you for years and I know you’ve been in love with him. It’s about time the two of you did something about it.” 

I rolled my eyes and Jensen laughed. 

“You think you’re smart don’t you, Jared?” I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed, “I know I am.” 

I rolled my eyes. We pulled up to the convention center and Jensen opened the car door climbing out and Jared did too. The small crowd roared with excitement. Then Jensen offered me his hand, helping me out of the car and the crowd cheered. 

We smiled, waved and walked inside. 

Jensen’s hand was on my lower back leading me in. 

The handlers met us and led us to the green room where we got our schedules and met our handlers for the weekend. 

Mine was a younger woman who was so sweet. We were standing to the side talking and I was getting to know her. 

When I looked up I noticed Jensen standing to the side talking and when his eyes met mine he winked. 

My handler giggled, “Oh he knows how to make a woman smile. I’ve worked at this convention for the past few years and I notice he winks at women. He knows what he’s doing.” 

For some reason her words felt like a knife to my heart. She didn’t know how much I loved him and prayed he truly loved me, but hearing about him winking at other women sent a pang of jealousy through me. 

It was stupid and I knew it. I just couldn’t shake it. 

It was time for the photo ops with Jared, Jensen and me. I was surprised to learn they were sold out. 

We walked to the room and before they opened the door Jensen leaned over to me, “Are you okay, baby?” I nodded, “Yeah. Just in my head. I’ll be okay.” I smiled softly at him. “Hey, I love you.” Then he kissed my lips. 

When we pulled apart all eyes were on us. 

The doors opened and the photo op started. The fans were great and some of the poses they picked were hilarious. 

I could feel my anxiety rising and Jensen noticed. He took my hand and placed a soft kiss on it. My eyes met his and he smiled. “You’re doing great, baby.” 

I nodded, “Thank you.” Then Jared pulled me into a big hug, picked me up and spun me around. I laughed and felt the anxiety washing away. These two were my home, my family and I didn’t realize until now just how much I’ve missed them. 

After the photo op was over it was time for my first panel with Mark. 

Before taking the stage Jensen pulled me to the side to talk to me, “Baby you did great in the op. Just take a deep breath before the panel. I’m right here waiting for you.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me. Deeper this time. I moaned into his mouth and melted in his arms. 

When we pulled apart I was blushing again. He chuckled, “You’re adorable, you know that.” I playfully rolled my eyes, “And you’re impossible.” 

“Yeah, but you love me.” “Yes I do.” 

He kissed me again, “Good, because I do too.” 

My heart beat wildly in my chest. Everything was happening so quickly with Jensen. It was exciting but terrifying. 

The panel with Mark went fast. Lots of questions about the Crowley and Seraphine dynamic and how I’ve been since filming. When we left the stage Jensen was standing waiting for me. Mark chuckled, “Get a room you two.” 

Jensen smirked as he pulled me close, whispering in my ear, “We plan on it, don’t we?” 

I smiled and nodded. 

The next photo op was Mark and me. The photo op was sold out too. I was shocked people wanted photos with me. 

After the photos we had a little break. Jensen and I sat beside each other and he kept whispering in my ear making me giggle like a teenager. 

“I can’t wait to get you alone. The things I’ve wanted to do to you.” He growled and I whimpered. 

My handler came in and told me we had about five minutes before the panel with Jensen and Jared. They were taking the stage before me and then they were going to introduce me. 

The three of us and our handlers made our way to the back of the stage. Jensen kissed me one last time before he and Jared took the stage. 

I stood watching their conversation and laughed along with them. Then it was time for me to take the stage. 

Jensen got the audience excited, “Okay guys. I hope you don’t mind but we have a special guest with us today. You know her as Seraphine the demon who fell for Dean, please welcome Y/N Y/L/N to the stage.” 

Jensen and Jared stood and hugged me as I walked on stage. There was a chair for me between them. The crowd roared when I walked out. It was exhilarating. 

I sat down, “Hey guys. Thanks for having me and thanks for letting me crash your panel. How is everyone today?” 

The audience cheered. Jensen smiled, “Hey Jared, looks like she got more reaction than you did.” 

We laughed. Jared pouted. “Aww, Jared. It’s okay. They love you too. Don’t you guys?” 

The screams and cheers were ear piercing. “See, I told you.” 

The three of us relived time on set and the antics the boys did. 

“I remember one time Dean and Seraphine were alone, this was before Dean took the mark of Cain, and Sam was on a hunt. Our characters were falling for each other but Dean resisted. The two of them were supposed to start making out on Dean’s bed but Jared decided to play a trick on us and loosened the screws on the bed. As soon as we got in the bed it collapsed. It took hours to fix because the bolts broke in the bed.” 

The audience laughed and Jared roared with laughter. “I remember that. Oh, it was hilarious. The look on Ackles’ face when he fell on top of you was priceless.” 

Jensen leaned forward, “Yeah, hilarious. Anyway, let’s get some questions.” 

Most of the questions were about the show and how I felt about my character being killed. Other questions were about recent projects the boys were doing. 

Before too long the panel was winding down. The final person was pulled on stage for the last question. 

She was so nervous she was shaking. Jensen and Jared hugged her, which made her squeal in delight. 

I stood to the side laughing. Jensen took the microphone, “Okay, what’s your question?” 

She took a deep breath, “Well, I know your divorce was final over a year ago. My question is two parts, how are you doing, and are you seeing anyone?” 

Jared laughed and I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what Jensen was going to say and I tried to prepare myself. 

“Well, thanks for asking. I’m doing pretty well. Still trying to navigate all of it. As far as if I’m seeing anyone, well yes, but it’s still new and we haven’t talked about going public yet. I want to respect her and what she wants.” 

The audience went wild. She thanked them, then the panel was over. 

Stepping off the stage Jensen pulled me to the side, “I hope that was okay. I didn’t want to say anything yet. We hadn’t talked about it and I didn’t want the rumor mill to start.” 

I nodded, “I understand. Thank you. I think you made the right decision. We need to figure it out before we announce it and have others pick it apart.” 

He cupped my face and kissed me, “I love you.” “I love you too, Jensen.” 

Clips from our panel were already going viral. The last question sent a ripple effect through social media with tons of speculation on who was Jensen’s girlfriend. Jensen chuckled, “That was fast.” 

I nodded. “Alright boys, what are we doing tonight?” 

Jensen smirked, “Well I know what I’m doing.” He winked at me and of course I blushed. 

Jared sent out texts asking the cast what they wanted to do. Most replied with food and drinking. I laughed, “Of course that’s what they want. I vote for food then I’m going to bed.” 

Jared laughed, “Sure you are. Ackles you joining her?” 

Jensen chuckled, “Maybe. That depends on her. What do you say sweetheart? Dinner, dancing, then some dessert back in your room?” 

Jensen pulled me close to him and put his arm around me. He kissed my head as he held me close. 

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” I leaned up and kissed his lips. 

A few hours later we were at dinner with everyone. We had started drinking during dinner, but I reminded Jensen we needed to be careful not to get drunk. He smirked, “Oh believe me I’m keeping an eye on what I drink. I have a date tonight.” 

I raised my eyebrow, “Oh really? Anyone I know?” 

He smirked, leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Maybe, she’s hot as hell and I’ve wanted her for a really long time. I’ve thought about her during those cold lonely nights in Toronto.” 

I gasped and turned my head, “No you haven’t.” It was a mixture of a question and a statement. 

He got dangerously close to my ear. I could feel his hot breath on my neck and ear, “Yes I did and believe me, things got hot really quickly.” Before he pulled back he nipped at my ear. Sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Jensen, we need to leave…NOW!” I practically yelled. 

He chuckled, “Yes ma’am.” 

Jensen paid the bill and we told everyone good night. They tried to protest, but I told them I was tired and wanted to be ready for my early morning panel. Jensen said he was just going to make sure I got back safely. 

I don’t think anyone believed him because the looks on their faces spoke volumes. 

Jared stood and hugged me, “You make him take care of you.” I smiled and nodded. 

Then he pulled Jensen in for a hug, “Don’t screw this up man.” Jensen laughed. 

We left the restaurant and my body tingled with anticipation. Every nerve was on fire. Jensen took my hand in his and led me to the car. 

Once in the car his lips were on mine and his hands in my hair, pulling me closer to him. 

He kissed me all the way to the hotel. He thanked the driver and got out, helping me out. 

Walking into the hotel Jensen noticed some fans to the side. He let go of my hand as they approached us. 

They smiled, asked for photos and autographs. Jensen happily took them and signed a few things. 

They thanked him and went on their way. He grabbed my hand again and led me to the elevator. 

“Hey, sorry I let go of your hand. I wasn’t sure if they were going to try to take pictures of us and I know we’re keeping this between us right now.” 

“I understand, Jensen. I think it’s best if we keep this between us for now. Believe me I want to scream it from the rooftops that I’m yours and you’re mine, but now isn’t the time.” 

He nodded and leaned me against the elevator wall as he kissed my lips. 

“Mine room or yours?” 

I bit my lip, “it doesn’t matter to me.” 

He took my hand and led me to my room. Once inside he pushed the door closed, locking it and his lips were on mine. 

I moaned in his mouth. I could feel my want, and need, surging through my body. 

“Jensen, please…” Breathless moans fell from my mouth. 

Jensen’s lips were all over my body and his fingers danced on my skin, exploring every inch. 

“Please what baby? Tell me what you need.” 

“You, Jensen. I need you.” 

Jensen's heart swelled with a surge of love and desire at my impassioned plea. With a low, possessive growl, he captured my lips in a searing, passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of his emotion and longing into the intimate embrace.

His hands roamed my body, caressing and worshipping every curve, every inch of skin, marveling at the newness of me. Jensen's touch was gentle yet urgent, tender yet demanding, a perfect reflection of the warring feelings of love and lust that consumed him.

Our clothes were shed quickly, honestly I have no idea who took what off. He gently laid me on the bed and kissed my lips.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to do this.” I leaned up and kissed him, “I’ve never been more sure about anything ever. Please, Jensen. I need you, I want you.” 

His arms caged me on the bed, positioning himself in between my thighs. He slowly lifted my legs as his long, thick cock met my dripping entrance. I nodded and he slowly pushed in. 

The sensation sent chills through my body. His cock began stretching my walls and we both moaned. I’d fantasized about him for years, but nothing prepared me for this. This was heaven. The way my walls stretched to accommodate his length and girth had me breathless. 

Jensen’s hips met mine as he bottomed out. He stilled, “God you feel incredible, Y/N. I need a minute.” 

As he kissed me, Jensen began to move once more, his hips rolling in a slow, sensual rhythm. Each thrust was deep and purposeful, designed to stoke the flames of pleasure and bring me closer to the peak of ecstasy. He could feel the way my body responded to his touch, the way my walls clenched and fluttered around his throbbing length, drawing him in deeper, holding him tighter.

Jensen's hand slid between our bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of my thighs. He circled and rubbed, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure ricocheting through my body. His touch was relentless, a perfect complement to the relentless rhythm of his hips as he made love to me.

Lost in the haze of sensation and emotion, Jensen murmured words of love and devotion against my skin, his voice a low, intimate rumble. "I love you, Y/N," he breathed against my neck, "I love you more than anything. I love the way you feel, the way you taste, the way your body responds to mine.”

He could feel his own release approaching, the pressure building at the base of his spine, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with each thrust. But more than that, he could feel my pleasure building, could sense the way my body tensed and trembled beneath his touch, teetering on the brink of a shattering climax.

With a final, powerful thrust and a press of his fingers against the sensitive flesh, Jensen sent me flying over the edge. He felt my walls clamp down around him like a vice, my body shuddered. 

“Oh fuck, Jensen! Don’t stop, please!”

Jensen groaned in pure ecstasy as he felt my walls clench and spasm around his throbbing cock, my body convulsing with the force of the intense orgasm. The sound of his name falling from my lips in a wanton cry of pleasure was the most erotic, arousing thing he had ever heard, pushing him closer to the edge of his own release.

"Fuck, Y/N!" Jensen growled, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency, driving into me with a newfound sense of purpose. "You feel incredible, baby. So fucking perfect. I can feel you coming undone around my cock, squeezing me so tight. It's incredible."

He continued to stroke my sensitive clit with skilled fingers, helping to extend my climax and drive me higher and higher. At the same time, his other hand slid up to palm my breast, kneading the soft flesh and rolling the hardened nipple between his fingers, adding another layer of intense sensation.

Jensen could feel the pressure building rapidly in his own body, the heat and tension coiling tighter and tighter in his core. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, not with the way my body was milking his cock, begging him to let go and give in to the pleasure.

“Y/N, baby," he rasped, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, "I'm so close, sweetheart. I can't...I can't hold back much longer. I'm going to fill you up, baby. I'm going to pump you full of my seed, make you mine in every way possible."

With a final, powerful thrust of his hips, Jensen let out a guttural, animalistic roar as his orgasm crashed over him. His cock jerked and pulsed inside me as he spilled his hot, thick seed deep into my waiting womb.

He collapsed against me, his body trembling and shaking with the intensity of his release. Jensen peppered my face with kisses, his hands roaming my body. "I love you, Y/N," he murmured against my damp skin, "I love you more than anything in this world.”

“I love you too, Jensen. More than anything.” 

Jensen stood, placing a soft kiss on my lips and he walked to the bathroom to grab a washcloth to clean us both up. When he returned he cleaned me, my body still very sensitive shuddered at his touch. He smirked. After he was clean he crawled under the sheets and offered me his arm. 

I slid in next to him and placed my head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around me protectively. 

“That was incredible, Y/N. Better than I’d dreamed.” I smiled against his skin, “Yeah, it was alright.” I giggled.

“Oh, just alright? Guess I have to do better next time.” He chuckled deep in his chest as he lifted my chin and kissed my lips.

“I guess you will.” I smirked. He pulled me closer to his side and held me. Kissing the top of my head. Something about this moment felt perfect, right, complete.

I lifted my head up looking in his green eyes and smiled softly, “I love you Jensen. That was incredible, you were incredible.” 

“I love you too, sweetheart. Now get some rest so we can do that again.” 

I chuckled and as I drifted off to sleep in his arms I knew I would never let go of him again. 

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[romanoffmazie]

[DAY ONE] - 1

Summary: She didn’t expect to fall apart in front of anyone—least of all him. But grief doesn’t ask permission.

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Neighbor reader (she/her)

Warnings/Tags: Pre-TFATWS, cursing, grief, emotional breakdown, loss, smoking (coping), emotional vulnerability. (Please let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 2k

Note: Just a little idea that popped into my head while rewatching The Falcon and the Winter Soldier this week. Hope you enjoy!

It was an autumn afternoon. A Monday. You were on the train, heading home, and everything felt… wrong. The subway rocked gently beneath you, the steady clatter of the tracks echoing through the nearly empty car. Too quiet. Too still

You sat there frozen, your eyes unfocused. You weren’t really present. Not fully. Your body was in the seat, but your mind? It had already left. You felt like a shell. Hollow. Like if someone looked too closely, they’d see right through you.

There was this high-pitched buzzing in your ears, like your brain was short-circuiting. Your chest was tight, your breathing shallow. You couldn’t tell if it was panic or grief or rage or all three at once. You didn’t even know anymore.

You just knew it hurt.

And somehow, your body still moved. Off the train. Through the city. Past the noise, the people, the lights—all of it a blur. You didn’t feel real. None of it did.

And then you were pushing open the heavy rooftop door of your building.

Your spot.

The one place that always felt safe.

It was this old building mostly filled with retired people and little old ladies who baked too much banana bread, so no one ever came up here. Just you. And the occasional seagull.

The wind was cold. It hit your face like a slap, sharp and biting, and for some reason, it helped. Like a reminder that, yeah, you were still breathing. Barely. But breathing.

And then everything cracked.

You kicked the old red beach chair—your usual one—sending it clattering sideways. Your bag followed, tossed near the railing with a heavy thud.

Everything inside you was burning. Your chest, your throat, your eyes.

And you screamed.

Loud. Raw. Ugly. The kind of scream that didn’t have words, just pain. You screamed until your voice gave out and your knees hit the concrete, until your lungs burned and the tears spilled over in hot waves that wouldn’t stop.

You didn’t think it could hurt like this. It was day one. Just day one.

And it already felt like you were falling apart from the inside out.

“Shit,” you whispered, breath hitching as your hands flew up to cover your face. The tears only came harder. And honestly? You didn’t even care if anyone heard you.

It kinda felt like if you didn’t fall apart now, your chest might actually implode.

“Uh… hey.” The voice behind you made you freeze.

It was deep, rough—like it came from someone who hadn’t used it much. Or maybe someone who chose not to use it unless they really had to. Careful, cautious.

Like the words didn’t come easy.

You spun around way too fast, your heart doing a full Olympic sprint as your eyes landed on the man standing a few feet away.

“I—sorry,” he said quickly, both hands raised like he wasn’t sure if you were about to run or throw something. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just… over there. And I don’t know. Figured I should say something? Maybe?”

You blinked at him, still breathless, still kind of in that dazed “what the hell is happening” mode. Your eyes followed the direction he’d gestured toward.

Corner of the rooftop. Blue beach chair. Two beer bottles. A small red notebook resting on the concrete beside it.

Cool. So he’d been there the whole time.

The. Whole. Time. Of course he had.

Your face was still wet, definitely blotchy, and your heart hadn’t really gotten the memo to chill yet. And to top it all off? You knew exactly who he was.

Bucky Barnes.

That Bucky Barnes. The one who used to be glued to Steve Rogers. The literal Captain America’s best friend.

That was pretty much all you knew.

Well—that, and the fact that about ten years ago, when you were fifteen, a bunch of shady SHIELD/HYDRA government files got leaked online and everyone freaked out. You, meanwhile, were way too busy obsessing over One Direction, wondering if Toby Kavanagh was A, and trying to convince your parents to let you dye your hair purple.

And then, like half the world, he vanished. You forgot about him. Completely. Until three months ago.

When he moved into your building. Wall to wall.

Naturally.

Because why wouldn’t a literal ex-assassin-war-hero-super-soldier move into your building just in time for your life to crash and burn. Right?

“You… you okay?” His voice was low and unsure. Like someone testing the water before stepping in. Careful. Like maybe he wasn’t used to asking questions like that. Or maybe just not used to asking anyone.

You didn’t look at him. Just let out a humorless laugh through your nose.

“Do I look okay?”

It came out sharp. Bitter. Not really meant for him, but it hit him anyway. You could tell by the way the silence shifted.

He cleared his throat. Scratched the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“No,” he said finally. Plain. Quiet.

You didn’t say anything back.

Maybe on another day, you would’ve felt bad about it. About the tone. About snapping at a stranger who was—at least in theory—just trying to be nice.

But not today.

Today, you didn’t care. Today, you were allowed to break. Even if it wasn’t pretty.

You turned away from him without warning and crossed the rooftop again, over to one of the old sun-bleached beach chairs scattered around—the one red, slightly crooked from when you kicked it earlier. You set it upright, dropped your bag beside it with a soft thud, and sat down, pulling your knees up to your chest.

The city stretched in front of you in muted blues and silvers, the sky starting to dim, and for a second, you tried to lose yourself in it.

Didn’t work.

“I’ll be fine,” you said quietly, more out of habit than belief. Your fingers tapped against the worn cardboard of the cigarette pack until the last one slipped into your palm.

You didn’t smoke often. Only when your head felt like it might explode if you didn’t do something.

The first time had been at twenty, right after your parents had one of those fights. The kind that splits the ground beneath your feet and leaves you stuck staring at the pieces. Your family had always seemed solid. Clean. Easy to understand. Until it wasn’t.

Until you realized you couldn’t fix it.

So you smoked. One cigarette, just to feel like you were controlling something. And over time, it became… a thing. Not a habit. Just a coping mechanism that showed up when things got too heavy.

You lit the cigarette, shielding the flame from the wind, and took a long drag, the smoke burning your throat just enough to remind you that you were still here.

Behind you, he shuffled slightly. You could hear it. That awkward weight shift people do when they’re not sure if they should leave or stay.

“Uh… right. I’ll just… go back over there,” Bucky said. Hesitant. Like he didn’t want to intrude, but didn’t quite want to disappear either.

You didn’t look at him.

Didn’t answer. Just exhaled smoke slowly, watching it drift into the air like fog, and tried not to think about how raw everything still felt.

[…]

Bucky had noticed you.

Of course he had. How could he not?

He heard you humming at the hallway in the morning before work, soft and half-asleep, and sometimes late at night when you came home and forgot the world could hear you. He recognized the sound of your heels on the old wooden floors in the hallway, the quiet thud of your bag hitting your door, the way you always talked to someone — maybe a cat. Maybe a dog. Maybe just yourself.

And yeah… he heard the fights too.

Always with the same name: Kevin.

A boyfriend, maybe. The yelling was never pleasant, and every time Bucky thought you were finally done with the guy, Kevin would show up again, knocking on your door like nothing had happened. And for a little while, things would seem okay. Until they weren’t. Again.

It was a cycle. A pattern. One Bucky had quietly picked up on, even if he never meant to.

He didn’t know if your rooftop breakdown had anything to do with the guy. But something told him it didn’t. That kind of pain? The one he saw in your eyes? That wasn’t heartbreak. Not the kind that comes from a toxic ex.

No — that was deeper. Older. The kind of pain that sinks into your bones and makes a home there.

The kind that feels too familiar.

After that day on the rooftop, Bucky didn’t see you for two weeks.

He still heard you in the hallway sometimes — the click of your heels at certain hours, the soft close of your door — but no more humming in the mornings. No music on Saturday nights. Just silence.

He found himself wondering about you. Curious, even. Tempted to knock on your door, maybe ask if you wanted to grab a coffee or something. But it had been… what, eighty years since he’d been on an actual date? He didn’t even know how to do that anymore. And honestly? He wasn’t in a hurry to figure it out.

He wasn’t ready. To share. To explain. To unpack the thousand-pound suitcase of memories and guilt and trauma he carried around like a second skin. Everything felt like too much already. And if he could barely handle it on his own… How the hell was he supposed to handle it with someone else?

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon when he heard the knock on his door. Autumn hung heavy in the air — the sky a soft gray, clouds low and threatening rain. Bucky was curled up on the couch with a book in his hands and a mug of black coffee balanced on the armrest. The silence in the apartment was kind, familiar. Safe.

So when the knock came, he froze.

Who the hell…?

He didn’t get visitors.

Sam wouldn’t just show up — not unless he wanted to start a fight. And Bucky didn’t have anyone else. Not really.

He put the book down and stood up slowly, cautious, a quiet knot forming in his stomach. When he peeked through the peephole, his heart genuinely skipped a beat.

It was you. Standing there, red sweater hugging your frame, hair down, no makeup on — just you. Beautiful, quiet, soft in a way that made something ache in his chest. You were holding a small basket, covered with a white cloth. His heart started racing for absolutely no reason. He could already smell them. Blueberries.

He hesitated for a second, glanced back at the apartment — bare, impersonal, still more of a shelter than a home — and finally opened the door. Not too fast. Not too slow.

Just… nervous.

You gave him a small smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach your eyes but still felt real.

“Hey,” you said, voice gentle. “I, um… I made muffins. Blueberry.”

He blinked, staring at you, then at the basket, then back again.

“They’re kind of… an apology. For the other night. I was rude. You were trying to help, and I didn’t let you. So…”

You held out the basket.

“Apology muffins.”

A laugh escaped his nose before he could stop it — soft, surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” you said, shrugging. “But I wanted to.”

He took the basket from your hands, careful like it was fragile or something sacred. It smelled like comfort and sugar and things he hadn’t had in years. He didn’t know what to do with that.

And maybe that was what made him say it.

Maybe it was the red sweater.

Or your hair loose.

Or the fact that he hadn’t stopped thinking about you for two weeks.

“You doing anything tomorrow?” he asked suddenly, voice quiet, barely there. “I was thinking… maybe we could get coffee. Or something. If you want.”

There was a pause.

Longer than he liked.

And he watched the hesitation flash across your face — that tiny moment where he was sure you were going to say no and he’d have to live with it.

But then you nodded.

And smiled.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

His shoulders dropped.

He didn’t even realize how tense he’d been until you said yes.

“Cool,” he said, a little awkward. A little breathless. “That’s… yeah. Cool.”

You laughed — soft and knowing — and stepped back down the hallway.

“See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” he replied, watching as you disappeared inside your apartment.

He looked down at the basket again, then closed the door behind him and leaned against it, letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He hadn’t been on a date in almost eighty years. But for the first time in a long time…

He kind of wanted to try.

[tigirl-and-co]

Wahoo! Rainmakers fic is here! Merry Christmas! I spent highschool mildly obsessed with these guys, and now I'm proud to present what is probably the only Rainmakers x Reader fic ever written. I didn't check or anything. Who else would ever.

I tried to give everybody a distinct personality, please let me know if you think the vibes are coming through! It's meant to be set in a vaguely G1 universe. But more modern. Like if G1 took place some nebulous time after cellphones became common.

When I Think About Rain

Ch.1

"So what the frag is snow for?"

Watching a lime green robot kneel down in the snow and leave handprints the size of your entire body filled you with an indescribable emotion. Trying to figure out how to explain natural weather patterns to three of them gave you a feeling you could describe in a word: headache.

Looking from Acid to Nova to Ion, you tried to figure out how to respond. "Precipitation on earth just sort of happens, and life evolved to work around it. We don't really make it. We did try a few times but it just doesn't work."

Ion Storm spoke up from somewhere behind you, as blunt as ever. "That's stupid. You guys don't even control what weather happens on your own planet? Sheesh, talk about lower lifeforms!"

You shot the seeker a particularly unimpressed look, causing him to snort. He liked taunting you, and you weren't sure if it was because he had a crush on you or if he considered you 'one of the boys.' You were pretty sure it was the latter, but after Powerglide and Astoria became an item, you couldn't be completely sure.

Nova was looking up at the clear blue winter sky contemplatively, and it sort of hit you that Cybertronians don't have any childhood memories of winter. No snow days, no sledding, no digging caves in a snow bank. Snow wasn't magic to them in the same way it was to humans.

But Nova Storm didn't know what he didn't know as he turned to face his bluest brother. "I dunno, I think it's kind of cool. Having to live each day under a new set of circumstances, never really knowing what your planet's gonna throw at you. Be fun, at least for a while."

The leader of the group looked up from where he was poking at the snow to stare at you. "Sounds dangerous. Are you sure you don't wanna just move to Cybertron? We wouldn't even tell Shockwave you were there this time." You knew Acid Storm wasn't stupid enough to think it would actually ever work, but he hadn't given up hope yet that maybe you were.

Taking a swig of hot chocolate, you rolled your eyes at him. "Sneaking you lot through the spacebridge once every couple months is already risky. How're you gonna play off using it every week to get me food?" You gave a sort of faux-haughty shrug, playing at knowing better than the multi-million-year-old space warriors. "I don't see why you don't just switch sides so we can hang out more."

Suddenly, Ion Storm threw himself on his back, and even with the muffling of the snow it was such a powerful movement that you had to brace yourself to keep from falling over.

He lolled his head to look at you. "Because Optimus would probably make us actually do our jobs, instead of-" and Ion switched into an awful Megatron impression- "perfecting our acid rain formula."

You couldn't help but cackle at that, and all three seeker's optics softened. You were so small, smaller even than Soundwave's cassettes, but you weren't afraid to live loudly. To stare the Rainmakers, the flying horrors of Cybertron, right in the face and laugh about their boss with them. A life so fragile and fleeting that you refused to live in fear for it.

How were they meant to resist you?

Acid Storm found himself walking over to you. The loud crunch of snow being compacted prevented you from being surprised when he bent down to scoop you up and set you on his shoulder, you simply huff in amusement. So touchy.

Unable to protect your face from the sudden increase in winter winds from being up so high and simultaneously smile amusedly at Acid Storm, you ended up doing neither and gave him a bizarre and unreadable expression that stung your eyes and burned your lungs.

Laughing, he put a servo around you to shelter you from the wind. "Humans are all so weird."

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure ours is the weirdest of them all," Ion Storm jeered from just out of your line of sight.

You couldn't suppress a snort at that one, and hollered a reply into the wind.

"Your human?" you couldn't help but call him out on that one. "Weird, I will own up to. But who ever said I was yours? I'm a free spirit, man, I belong to nobody but myself!" You hoped they could hear the smile in your voice.

Nova smiled back at you. "Well, we did capture you that one time," he rebutted, "which teeeeechnically makes you 'our human.'"

"Pfffft, no way! I bought my freedom fair and square! You let me go, so you don't own me!"

Ion stood up and reached over Acid's servo to seat you in the palm of his own, looking you dead in the eyes. "If you're not our human, how come we can just pick you up and you don't complain?" He narrowed his optics and sneered triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head sympathetically. "Do you really think you're the only people who ever pick me up? Look at me, I'm adorable! People can't resist picking me up!"

You were too focused on Ion to notice Nova coming in from behind. "Aw, but we're your favourites, right?" He lowered his massive head down to your level, and if you didn't know him as the brains of the group, you'd almost think he looked like a puppy begging for praise. "We're the best at human-handling, yeah?"

After your heart climbed back down from your throat where the shock had chased it, you managed to feign being contemplative. "Hmmm... I suppose that's true. And I mean I did choose to spend a day hanging out in a snowy field in the middle of Fuckass Nowhere with you three, which probably has to count for something."

Now looking less like a puppy and more like the proverbial cat who got the cream, Nova grinned triumphantly. "See?" As he stood back up to his full height, satisfied with your answer, you simply had to giggle. In the low sun, his goldenrod colour scheme and general shape brought to mind a star at the top of a Christmas tree. His temperament certainly helped, of course. Giant killer robot or not, when he was happy, he had a sort of glow about him.

Acid Storm snorted.

"The Rainmakers: Scourge of Cybertron's Skies, and top-tier fleshy sparklingsitters." There was no malice in his tone- he really did just feel as comfortable joking with you as he did the rest of his trine. "I'm sure that'll put some real fear into the sparks of our enemies!"

You spun around in Ion's hand to give a witty retort. Ion fired a line at you, and you parried that, too. And so it went for the rest of the day. Eventually, enough hours had passed that your hot chocolate was gone and the stars had come out.

You smiled tiredly- you loved them and their banter, and you liked feeling like you actually belonged, but good God. There's only so many hours of witty banter in a snowy field the human mind can take. "Okay, boys. It's getting pretty damn cold out here, so we better get you home before I freeze to death."

Unable to tell if you were joking or not, they acquiesced. And in Acid's cockpit, on the long flight back to the spacebridge, you found yourself looking forward to the next meeting before they even left.

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Confessions (Azriel x Reader) - Part Two

wc: 3.7k

warnings: smut! minors dni!

a/n: thank you so much for all the love on part 1!! hope yall enjoy!

Read Part One

Once you are alone again, you immediately go in search of Azriel. Maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear your lips are still tingling from where he kissed you. You don’t even know what you would say to him after royally fucking up that entire conversation, but you have to try. His usual spots were no luck, as were his room and basically the rest of the House of Wind.

He’s gone. Fuck.

The next best option to to go find Mor and hopefully sort through some of the thoughts racing inside your head. You find her in her room, lounging on her bed reading. She gives you that same worried and apologetic look from earlier, but you stop her before she can apologize again.

“Don’t say anything. It's fine, I’m fine. But we need to talk, like right now.” You say anxiously and sit on her bed with her. After you repeat to her everything that Azriel had said, Mor is beaming from ear to ear.

“He really said that? Holy gods, y/n! What did he say when you told him you felt the same way?” Her eyes are wide with excitement.

“Well…. I didn’t. Feyre interrupted to check on me, and then he left before I could tell him anything. And now he’s nowhere to be found.” You sigh and try to hide the disappointment on your face.

“Oh y/n. I’m sorry.” She says softly and wraps an arm around you. “He just left? He didn’t even give you a chance to say how you feel?” She questions.

“Not exactly…” you draw back, embarrassed. “He was basically begging me to tell him I felt the same, but I completely froze and didn’t say anything.” I murmur and look at my hands, ashamed.

“Y/n!” Mor yells.

“I know, I know! I’m a gods damn idiot! This is what I have wanted for literally centuries, but once I finally get a chance… I completely fuck it up!” You flop back onto her bed in defeat, running your hands over your face. “I don’t know what happened! He kissed me, and I just froze! What is wrong with me?” You groan. Mor rubs a soothing hand on your arm.

“It will be okay. You said he wasn’t anywhere in the House of Wind, so he probably found some mission that sent him away for a few days, just like he always does when he is avoiding his problems.” She reassures. You nod in agreement. “In the meantime, you need to figure out what the hell you are even gonna say to him, because you really can’t fuck it up again." She chuckles, and you throw a pillow at her.

“Not helpful, Mor!” You laugh.

———

Days pass, and there is no word from Azriel. Rhys said he should be back by the end of the week and even used his daemati powers to request that he return earlier, but Azriel refused.

You try not to let his absence and your lingering anxiety about the situation bother you too much. On the outside, you go about your day as normal, but internally, you feel like a complete gods damn mess.

———

The weekend arrives, and you anxiously await any news that Azriel is back. You don’t even bother trying to be subtle, checking the hallway between your rooms every time you hear the slightest noise.

Soon it is well after midnight, and you begin to accept that he isn’t coming home any time soon. You wander down to the kitchens in search of something overly sweet to ease your sorrows. Several chocolate chunk cookies later, courtesy of Elain, you still don’t feel much better. You stare out the kitchen window while you eat, lost in thought of what to do now.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see something move. You turn around to look, but no one is there. You were about to call it a night and go back to your room when you see the shadows in the corner moving ever so slightly. Your breath catches in your throat and you stare at the wisps of darkness. Could it be?

Two small shadows dart out of the corner toward you. Having been caught, they move closer and swirl around your legs eagerly.

The cool sensation makes you giggle, and you look down at them, ignoring the ache in your chest that it wasn’t him. But he must be here somewhere if his shadows are back. You rush up to your room, shadows trailing behind you. Just as you turn onto your hallway, you see Azriel standing outside his door. He stops and stares at you for a moment, a pained look in his eyes. Before you can say anything, he quickly slips into his room and shuts the door.

Okay, ouch. You get that he might not want to talk, but he could at least be civil. The two shadows at your side linger for a moment before slipping under his door as well. Once again, you are alone.

———

Morning comes after a very poor night’s sleep. You wait until the sun peaks above the horizon before stepping into the hall and sitting on the floor against the wall, waiting for Azriel. Half an hour passes, and he still hasn’t emerged from his room. That’s unusual, he’s usually up to train by now. You knock on his door, but the other side is silent. He must already be gone.

You make your way to the training ring, and thankfully you found him there. Azriel and Cassian were sparring hand-to-hand in the ring, and it was apparently a very intense match since they were both glistening with sweat. Azriel faces away from you, so you can only see his shirtless back, but holy gods his back. You can’t help but stare as his broad shoulders move and his muscles ripple. Cassian finally notices you after several minutes and smirks at you, stopping the match. Azriel looks behind himself in confusion, but his expression immediately changes to panic when he sees you.

Well, it’s now or never. He will just keep evading you if you don’t talk to him now. You walk over to the training ring.

“Good morning, boys. Cass, do you mind if I step in and practice my sparring with Azriel? I’m a bit rusty and could use his help.” You ask sweetly, giving him a very obvious glare that says to leave. You’re not sure what all Azriel has told him, but he catches the hint immediately.

“Oh, uh, yeah. I have to, uh… go find Nesta.” He hurries off, leaving you alone with Azriel.

Azriel takes a step, like he wants to leave too, but you step in front of him.

“What do you want, y/n?” His prominent dark circles and sad eyes make your chest ache.

“I told you, I want to practice sparring. Just like we used to.” You give a hopeful smile and pull your hair up. He sighs in defeat and steps back into the ring with you. His shadows inch forward like they want to approach you, but ultimately stay by his side.

“Fine. But I don’t want to talk.” He mumbles. You nod and get into your fighting stance. He seems very apprehensive to attack first, so you make the first move. After a few minutes, the two of you get into the groove of it, moving so naturally with one another.

“You. Don’t have. To talk.” You say breathlessly between attempted punches. “But I’m gonna.” He obviously doesn’t like that, so he starts fighting back harder in an attempt to keep you from talking. You smirk at his increase in effort, dodging his punches. “Nice try. You forget who trained me.” The side of his mouth upticks ever so slightly.

“You’re right. That means I know all your moves.” He says smugly and avoids your attack. You try not to let his voice distract you, but damn, it’s so nice to finally hear him talk somewhat normally to you after so long.

“Last week, I didn’t-“ He swings at you, causing your words to cut off. You step aside and try again. "As I was saying-“ Another swing. You give him an annoyed glare and he just shrugs. “Azriel, will you please just let me ta-“ You dodge another attack. This is ridiculous, and it ends now. Quicker than he can react, you move behind him and knock his feet out from under him with one swift kick, immediately moving to pin his arms down and straddle his waist. Azriel half-heartedly fights back for a moment before giving up.

“Fine. You win. Can you let me go?” He avoids your gaze. You tighten your grip on his wrists. Azriel’s shadows wrap themselves around your legs, and you savor the familiar feeling of their chill.

“No. You’re gonna let me talk.” You and Azriel both know he could get out of your hold in a matter of seconds, but the fact that he doesn’t means he must be willing to hear you out. You take a deep breath and focus your spiraling thoughts. Azriel gives a silent nod, still looking anywhere but your eyes.

“Look, I messed up last week. I was still kinda freaked out about what happened with Mikael.” Azriel flinches at the name, his expression turning murderous.

“Fucking piece of shit got what he deserved.” Azriel mutters under his breath. You try not to think too hard about what that means, but the blood on his clothes last week makes it pretty clear what happened.

“Anyway, I was still freaked out, and then you were asking me to tell you if I meant what I said that night, and I just got embarrassed and panicked.” You take a deep breath. This is it. “I’ve spent centuries trying to hide my feelings from you. I even tried dating other males, but ultimately each relationship ended because I put you before them. And when you started spending more time with Elain, I got jealous and decided that I had to try and move on for real. So when you asked me to tell you how I felt, I just couldn’t handle the heartache. And then you kissed me, and every single thought left my brain. I heard you tell me how you felt, I heard you ask me to tell you I felt the same, but I couldn’t form the words Az.” He finally looks up at you, his eyes wide and hopeful. “And you left before I could get my shit together and tell you. So let me say it now. I have loved you, as more than my best friend, for longer than I can remember Az. I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out how to say that last week.” He looks surprised. "It's always been you.” You repeat the words he told you last week.

A moment passes. Then two. And then his hands are free from your grip, pulling you close to him and kissing you deeply. You don’t hesitate this time, kissing him back with just as much passion. Azriel’s hips lift slightly, making you suddenly very aware of your current position. You hesitantly move yourself to go from straddling his waist to straddling his hips, unsure of what exactly he wants to happen. He freezes for a moment, causing you to overthink and pull away slightly, but before you can pull back completely, Azriel’s hands grip your hips and pull them closer to his. He groans softly into your mouth, letting one hand move from your hip to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer.

One second, you are on top of him kissing, and the next he is flipping you onto your back, holding himself up with one hand next to your head while the other caresses your waist. His mouth begins to trail down your neck and onto the column of your throat, giving you rough kisses along the way. A small whimper leaves you, which only seems to encourage him more.

From across the training ring, you hear voices approaching. Shit, you both completely forgot where you are and how public this is. Azriel pulls away and quickly stands, reaching out a hand towards you to help you up. You wonder if the interruption will be the end of this heated moment between the two of you, but Azriel pulls you by the waist close to him.

“Your room or mine?” He asks with a strained voice. The voices get closer, and before you can answer, Azriel lifts you up with your legs around his waist and winnows you to his room.

———

Once you arrive inside Azriel’s room, he gently sets you on his bed and takes a step back, staring at you. You can’t tell what his expression says, but you suddenly feel very shy under his intense stare.

“Uh, you okay?” You ask hesitantly. He gives you a grin and nods.

“I’m great. More than great. I’m just taking a second to admire this moment because I’ve spent the pst week feeling like Prythian’s biggest idiot for confessing my feelings to you when you didn’t feel the same way.” He stalks closer to you, his grin transforming into a lustful smirk. “But now that I know you feel the same way…” he towers over you, gently pushing you back onto the bed as he moves above you. “I am going to savor this. Every. Single. Second.” He kisses up your neck between his last few words.

“Oh… uh, okay.” You blush hard as the words come out in a whisper and every thought leaves your brain. Well, every thought except for Azriel. His hands tangle into your hair as he kisses you, but unlike before, this kiss isn’t overly eager and desperate. It’s purposeful and passionate, but the hunger from before still lingers between the two of you. Azriel’s hands slowly slide up your waist, under your shirt. His fingers play with the hem for a moment.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in your ear and softly bites your earlobe. You nod in response, but he pulls back and puts a hand on your cheek. “I need to hear you say it. You need to tell me exactly how far you want to go. I don’t want to do something you aren’t comfortable with.”

“Az. Please, I need you. All of you.” You plead.

“Thank the gods.” He wastes no time slipping his hands under your shirt and bra. His fingers graze over your nipples softly, causing you to whimper quietly. Azriel pulls your shirt off and quickly unclasps your bra, throwing it across his room. His eyes darken as he stares at you. You instinctively try to cover yourself, but he immediately pins both of your wrists above your head with one of his hands. “Don’t you dare hide from me, sweetheart. You are fucking gorgeous.” His words come out low and gravelly, causing you to blush a deep shade of pink.

Azriel lowers his mouth to one nipple and sucks, biting gently, while he rolls the other one between his fingers. The sensation makes you let out a low moan. He switches, making sure to give both equal attention before moving lower.

“Can I trust you to keep your hands up there?” He asks gruffly.

“And if I don’t?” You challenge with a smirk. Azriel gives a low chuckle. You feel the familiar chill of his shadows moving up your arms and around your wrists, restraining you. Two more shadows start playing with your nipples and the cold feeling makes you arch your back.

“I always wondered how you would be in bed.” He lowers himself toward your stomach. “But it seems like you like to be a brat.” His eyes gleam with excitement. “And if this wasn’t the first time that I get to worship your body, believe me, I would fuck the brattiness right out of you.” His fingers play with the hem of your pants as he kisses down your navel. “But I’m gonna let that attitude slide just this once.” His filthy words send a rush of heat to your core.

His hot breath dances over your skin and he slowly drags down your pants and panties all at once. Azriel stares at your pussy with complete adoration in his eyes.

“You are so fucking stunning, sweetheart.” He groans and teases a finger around your entrance. “And so fucking wet. Gods y/n, you might have the prettiest pussy I have ever seen.” His fingers trail up to your clit and he circles it softly. Moans spill from your lips freely now as you buck your hips towards him. “Patience. I’m just getting started.” He smirks and spreads your legs wide, before lowering his mouth to your core.

Azriel switches between kitten licks to your clit and teasing your hole with his tongue. Your moans get louder as you become more desperate.

“More. Fuck, Az, more please.” You beg. He pushes one of his long fingers into your pussy and curls it, making you cry out.

“You like that, sweetheart?” He asks with a smug smirk, as if he doesn’t know the damn answer. His shadows continue to tease your nipples, while one trails down to circle your clit while Azriel fucks you with his fingers. You had never felt pleasure this good, this intense. Azriel returns to sucking your clit, occasionally grazing his teeth across it, causing you to throw your head back and moan loudly. The familiar feeling of pleasure builds in your core. As if he can tell you are close, he speeds up his fingers. “That’s it, y/n. Come for me.”

“Fuck Azriel!” You yell and clench around his fingers while grinding on his face. Your orgasm rips through you like an explosion. Azriel draws the feeling out longer with his fingers continuously moving inside you—slower now. “Az, please. I want you inside me. Now.” You whine. He looks up at you with a shit-eating grin, his chin wet with your arousal.

“I have waited a long fucking time to finally taste you, so I will stop once I get my fill.” He puts his tongues back on your clit and gives it a soft lick, causing your hips to buck at the intensified feeling. “Give me one more like this, sweetheart. I need you to cum on my face one more time before I’ll be satisfied.” He buries his face between your legs, eating you out like a male starved. This might be the hottest thing you have ever experienced. No male has ever been so eager to eat you out, especially not this well, and definitely never twice in a row.

It doesn’t take long for Azriel to bring you to the edge again. His fingers thrust inside your soaked cunt as he sucks your clit.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” Right as your release bursts inside you, Azriel moves his face back up to your mouth, keeping his fingers in your pussy and on your clit to coax you through the orgasm. His shadows release your hands, and you grab onto his shoulders as he swallows your moans with his kiss. You eventually come down from your high and take a steadying breath.

Azriel grins down at you like a kid on Winter Solstice who got every present he wanted. “You are breathtaking, y/n.” He kisses you again and moves his hips above yours. “Are you sure, sweetheart?” His gentle tone fills you with warmth.

“Please, Azriel. Please fuck me.” He groans at your words and lines his tip up with your entrance.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, okay?” You nod. He slowly pushes himself into you, one inch at a time. Fuck, you knew he was big, but this is something else. “Are you okay?” He asks. You nod and lift your hips to meet his, encouraging him to keep going. Azriel pushes himself entirely into you and gives a low moan.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good.” He starts to slowly move in and out, gradually picking up his pace until he is pounding into you, his eyes screwed shut in pleasure. “This pussy was fucking made for me.” He moans and drops his forehead onto yours. You feel your pleasure building again as his hand reaches down to rub your clit.

“I’m close, Az.” You moan into his shoulder. This causes him to slow down slightly, opting for agonizingly slow and deep thrusts.

“Not yet, y/n. I need to feel you more.”

Thrust

“I have wanted this for so long.”

Thrust

“So fucking long.”

Thrust

“And now you’re mine.”

Thrust

His eyes pour into yours intensely.

“I have loved you since I first met you, y/n.” He says in an intimately hushed tone.

“I love you too, Az. I have for so long.” Your words pull a moan from him, and he picks his pace back up, pounding his cock into you. His fingers return to your clit and he rubs circles, drawing out high-pitched moans from you.

“Cum for me, y/n. Fuck, please. Come on my cock, sweetheart.” It comes out more like a beg than a command. Your third orgasm causes you to clench around him and drag your nails down his back, probably leaving marks. A few more thrusts, and Azriel is spilling inside you, your name falling from his lips over and over.

You both lay there for a while, savoring the moment. After a minute, Azriel slowly pulls out of you, making you hiss from how sensitive your walls are. He heads to the bathroom and returns quickly with a wet cloth to clean you up. Once clean, he gets back into the bed and pulls you close to him. The two of you cuddle in silence for a while before he speaks up.

“I’m still convinced this is a dream.” He whispers in amazement while running his fingers through your hair.

“I’ll admit I’ve had similar dreams before.” You giggle. He turns you around to face him and raises an eyebrow.

“You’ve had wet dreams about me?” You blush hard and nod. “Fuck, that’s hot.” You giggle and bury your face in his chest as he pulls you closer.

“This isn’t a dream, Az. It’s real, and I really do love you.” You reassure him. You will tell him that a million times if that’s what it takes.

“I love you, y/n. So fucking much.” He hugs you tighter. The two of you doze off into a blissfully content sleep.

omg okay i hope yall liked this!! also btw i have never published smut ever before so i apologize if it sucked lol.

i’m having a lot of fun getting back into writing fics so please send me requests if you have any bc i suck at coming up with ideas.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Undercover (part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Summary: Am I really that bad?

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1411

A/n: I AM FINALLY BACK WITH UNDERCOVER YALLL WOOHOOOO 🥳🥳🥳

i dont know why, but everytime there is a fic i dont write for a long time, i have the most fun writing😭 i am so happy and satisfied with this, and i hope you like it too 🥹

also, im just gonna say, this is the series that will be my main focus for now, so you will get updates more sooner until its finished hehe 🤭❣️

ANYWAYSSSSSSSS, ENJOYYYY 🥳🥳🥳

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The women’s barracks made Y/n grateful for the room she had at Omega point.

It was not that the barracks were unclean or anything. Quite the opposite. They were a little too clean. Almost sterile. And while Y/n did not mind the sterileness of the place too much, she did wish for the touch of home her room had, with her worn clothes dumped onto the chair she rarely used, the empty can of food on her nightstand, the small duckling plush her father had gifted her when she was three that barely was holding itself together at the seams-

She still had that duckling stashed at the back of her suitcase.

The main problem she had with the barracks was that they ended any illusion of privacy she had at Omega point. Sure, she knew the wooden door hiding her room away from the world did not do its job, sounds penetrating through the barely there excuse for protection. But at least it was there.

There, she did not have to smell other soldiers’ sweat, she did not have to share a bunk with them, she did not have to plug her ears with her fingers because some of them wouldn’t stop talking, even well into the night.

The only good thing out of this mission was the warm food they provided. That was the only thing Y/n looked forward to in her every moment spent in misery.

Of course, her fellow undercover soldier was a comfort.

Sarcastic. That was sarcastic.

Y/n did not understand what his problem with her was. Even now, when the two only saw each other during training, he would shoot her sneers and dirty looks when he thought she wasn’t looking.

What does he think of himself?

Y/n wondered if he thought she wasn’t paying attention to him. It was a constant thought prickling the back of her mind. Did he really think she was so bad for this mission? Did he think she knew nothing of how to spy?

She was better than him, for god’s sake.

Despite her constant reassurances to herself that she was good, she couldn’t help but wonder. Was she bad? Was there a reason Castle had picked her as a last resort for this mission?

Obviously, he wouldn’t dislike her without cause. Would he?

"Miss Y/n."

Y/n shot up from the top of the bunk she was sharing with the soldier he had not cared to know the name of, eyes zeroing in on the guard that was glancing around the room in search of her.

"Yes?"

His eyes shifted towards her voice, nodding. "Captain Sanders has summoned you."

Y/n’s brows furrowed, and she hurried to grab her jacket to throw over her thin undershirt. "At this hour?"

He shrugged at her. "I am but a messenger."

Y/n pondered over it as she followed him out of the barracks, ignoring the curious gazes following her. "Did she at least mention why she needed me?"

He shook his head. "No."

The guard walked away from the rooms higher officers occupied, instead leading her out of a back door and through a long patch of grass towards a dilapidated building.

Finally, after walking for long minutes during which nerves churned in Y/n’s gut, he stopped in front of a door. The walls like they would crumble the moment the wind blew stronger, the door looking worse than her bedroom door back home.

Is it home if it never provided warmth?

Shaking her head to get rid of those thoughts, Y/n focused back on the guard, who turned to look at her for a moment before he dipped his head in a nod.

"Kishimoto is waiting for you."

Y/n turned away, then whipped her head back to him.

"What?"

His lips tilted to one side. "What? Go on. Hurry before someone catches you two."

Y/n blinked, staring at him for a moment, trying to remember if she knew the man before she walked inside the room.

Kenji sat in front of a broken window, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

"Kishimoto? Who was that guy?"

Kenji sighed, shaking his head in what seemed an awful lot like disappointment. "Do you ever listen? Castle had mentioned it."

Y/n’s brows furrowed. "No he didn’t."

"He did."

"Look, I might have been mad at the time, but I remember every single word he uttered."

Kenji looked at her like she had lost her mind but didn’t comment on it further. That look made her wonder if she really had.

Did Castle mention it? Y/n had always been a good listener. She would have remembered, right?

Maybe I am bad at this after all. I should have known.

"Whatever. He’s an old undercover. He’s been working here for over a year now." He shook his head again, taking a step closer to Y/n. "I don’t even know why I expected better from you, considering you’ve always been an ungrateful brat."

Y/n stiffened, eyes narrowing as her heart beat painfully in her chest that felt too hollow to be normal. She wrapped her arms across her chest, glaring at him. The action had always felt vaguely comforting, like she could physically protect her heart from the harsh words of the people that surrounded her.

"I am really hoping you did not just invite me here in the middle of the night to berate me and lecture me about how ungrateful and useless I am and how everyone is just wasting resources on me to keep me alive for no reason."

Kenji returned her glare in equal measure. "I did not say that."

Y/n scoffed. "Sure. Why did you call me?"

Kenji watched Y/n quietly for a moment, then sighed. "I received a missive from Castle some time ago on how to proceed."

Y/n straightened, shoving her hands into her pockets. "And?"

"He wants us to mingle, try to get as much information as possible from fellow soldiers."

Y/n nodded. "Okay."

Kenji raised a brow. "That’s all you got to say? No oh how will I survive the torture or go to hell or why me or-"

"Is that all he said in the missive?" Y/n muttered, trying to not lash out at the condescending tone of his voice.

He snorted. "That’s all. At least, that’s what I was supposed to tell you. He told me to keep the more important stuff for myself, considering you would probably babble to the first person who is willing to listen and blow our cover."

Y/n blinked.

Do they think I will betray them?

Sure, Y/n might be very cold towards Castle and Kenji, but she would never purposefully leak important information that might one day endanger Omega point and its residents. She did not dislike the residents, after all. She loved them. Most of them, if not all, were survivors like her. People who did not have shelter and food to fill their bellies at times of war begging for a roof over their heads.

She adored the older ladies who told stories to entertain the younger ones. She loved the young children who always insisted Y/n play with them, giggling happily when she agreed. She loved the older men who reminded her of her dad, their fatherly grins and their touch on her head when she did something for them, blessing her for her heart.

Did she really give the impression she did not care?

"Hey, Y/n?"

Kenji’s voice broke Y/n’s thought process, and she flicked her eyes up at him, surprised to find a trace of concern intertwined with his voice.

"Are you okay?"

Y/n blinked a couple of times to clear her head, grateful for the darkness outside and the lack of light inside the house. She was sure Kenji wouldn’t have seen the tears gathering at her waterline.

Even if he did though, Y/n doubted he would really care.

"I’m leaving."

"Y/n listen-"

But Y/n had already turned away, opening the door barely holding onto its hinges and walked out. The guard still stood there, his eyes trained on her face as she jerked her chin at him to ask him to lead the way.

She was too tired to speak.

And too emotional for her voice to not break if she did.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

permanent taglist: @berryzxx @serenescureforboredom @cassie6392 @harrystylesfan2686

Shatter Me Taglist: @dahliawarner @berryzxx @mrsjna @yucanbmylxdy @lemon-lav @sheisntyou @kitkatlover015 @dnfhascorruptedme

Kenji Kishimoto Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @aaaaaaakenjikishimoto

Undercover Taglist: @lady-of-tearshed

[gakucchis]

how would mephisto's route look like?

so, i already got it all planned out. i was actually very very active in the fandom back in early 2020-mid 2021, where i was drawing and writing headcanons of mephisto when he was still just a mentioned character (see my pinned if you’re interested, thought it’s really old!). i got into it again because of nightbringer, but oh my god, my disappointment when after two years i looked up if mephisto was finally dateable… i’m actually slowly losing hope because nb is already on season 3 but who knows!! :') the devs hinted on reddit that they should be dateable at some point.. ANYWAY

i do have this potential story line, which i’m pretty sure could actually become reality some day, especially because of this post

here it is!!

- obviously, because of his noble status, we'll have to go for the route that could probably only be used for diavolo as well: arranged marriage (i hate this trope)

- two possibilities:

1. mephisto comes to RAD, looking really pale, worried, anxious, just not at all his usual self. after some prodding, he reveals his parents want to set him up for an arranged marriage with another noble demon

or

2. MC and the others catch wind of it themselves, e. g. through the news (obviously not the newspaper) because it’s a huge thing in the noble society

- mephisto, even though having been prepared for this his whole life, seems totally unready, and he’s secretly dreading it — he doesn’t want to talk about it either

- after some closer moments, he reveals that something is holding him back. he knows it’s his duty, he has known this for his whole life, yet something in him is screaming no

- MC can try all they want, but it’s not easy to convince someone to do what their heart tells them to do when they’ve been told they will have to do it one day

- it’s actually pretty weird, since he always wanted a suitable demon to marry one day, and was very picky with who he’d consider having around

- diavolo is just as worried for him, asking MC to keep an eye on him and support him, even if he says he doesn’t want any help

- this could also lead to some tension! like mephisto being even more rude and hostile towards MC, shutting them out of everything

- mephisto doesn’t understand why he’s so irritable, why he’s acting this way at all, he feels guilty for pushing MC away, but he has to

- but why does he feel this way? he was always a bit rude towards them, but now he feels like something else is there, like he’s building a wall up — but why would he need a wall for you when he never cared about you?

- days go on, and there’s no sign of the arranged marriage stopping. everyone is getting more and more worried, even the brothers, but the more MC tries to help, the worse it gets

- there was only one last plan, one that could ruin it all, especially for mephisto; it’s to infiltrate a ball hosted by mephisto's family, because since he can’t be emotionally reached… maybe his parents can be?

- (this would also make for some funny scenes too, because you’d have to sneak in and all lol)

- at some point, as mephisto‘s parents marvel about their son and how he’ll be married soon, one of the brothers (mammon…) will probably trip and direct attention to himself, and mephisto will be outraged to see them, and especially MC

- but before he can say anything, MC will chime in and say how distraught mephisto has been, and how they can feel he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to marry someone or even be with someone he doesn’t love, just because it’s his „duty“ he was assigned to doesn’t mean he has to fulfill it for the sake of his status

- mephisto is completely stunned, but he knows you’re right, so he stays silent

- now this can go two routes again:

1. the literal „but daddy i love him!“ way of the parents hating MC, thinking that they’re the cause for mephisto‘s recent development, commanding to throw MC and the brothers out; mephisto could chime in and be honest, though his parents would not approve

2. the slightly comedic and not so overly used choice way: his parents recognize MC (since there are only two humans around, both being powerful sorcerers), being confused at first… before being understanding?? and then even… suggesting that MC is the one mephisto actually loves? mephisto would of course deny it, the brothers would be furious, but the parents are actually gushing about the cuteness of the situation, how MC tries saving her „lover“. it would end with the parents being like „alright! when are you gonna marry them then?“ and mephisto being like „MARRIAGE?“

- obvvvv i like the second way more, the first trope is so so overused. yes, his parents are strict as hell but it would be funny and cute to see them naming reasons why MC would be perfect for mephisto, that they should arrange the marriage soon, etc.

- afterwards mephisto would of course pull MC outside, talking to them honestly and thanking them for saving them even after he pushed them away so much

- this would, of course, also be the moment where he’s actually honest, revealing that the thing that was holding him back and that was making him dread the thought of being in an arranged marriage… was his love for you, which he desperately tried to hide away and didn’t even realize for months

- he'd also apologize for his parents, because now they keep on asking him about MC and how their love is blossoming

- he'd of course end it by saying he knows how many rivals he has, but he’s sure that a noble and handsome demon like him is sure to sweep you off your feet!!

please i love him so much, just give me any route i am sick of collecting memory cards for devilgrams where i can’t even romance him

id love to hear your opinions, corrections, suggestions, love for mephisto <\3, just anything !!

[tellmeallaboutit]

what is the deal with Hope?

All I know of her is the "cRaZy LaDy" you can ally with in the House of Hope level. Does she have any extra details to her story besides being Raphael's prisoner and Korrilla's sister? (in your opinion, if not in canon!)

Holy moly, Hope is something quite complicated indeed. Hope, first of all, is a product of scrapped original writing / creative redirections / House of Hope re-makings.

It’s extremely hard to analyze her because there are mixed signals in all possible directions. I’ll give the main three. All IMHO / headcanon.

1. Hope as a Concept / Poetical Allegory

Probably the original intention. Hope as some incorruptible entity, a concept, that Raphael stole and tried to destroy as a long-winded poetic metaphor and failed to do so.

2. Hope as a person

Hope is also a real dwarven cleric and the sister of Korilla. So, in this version, at one point Raphael thought “oh, neat name, so metaphorical, wanna serve me?”, Hope was like “nope, get fucked”, and then the only logical course of action for a lawful evil character was to throw respect for consent and rules out of the window, kidnap her, chain her in his basement, threaten her, torture her, subject her to some form of sexual assault (unclear what happened there or who did that, but something that deeply unsettled Hope and caused her to describe sexual acts she witnessed in a very disturbing manner).

Yeah, don’t ask me. I am pretty sure that goes against anything devils are supposed to stand for with actual trickery and seduction and gradual corruption. I guess the thought there was “devils only pretend to care about consent and be civil but look at what this guy is doing behind closed doors”. Behind closed doors, he threatens to drench a kidnapped girl in the intestines of a kid. Very edgelordy, Raph.

3. Hope as a romantic / sexual interest

At one point of development, it seemed like there was a sexual connotation in their relationship aka he wanted her as a woman aka an actual sexual creep locking an unwilling woman in his basement.

Clues: “taming hope” with lines like “he looks at her with such hatred and longing”, and also data-mined taming hope volume 3 where she actually refers to him as "flaccid horned-fuck" and his maggoty tongue in her ear, Raphael referring to himself as a hopeless romantic. The “hope ahaha such a tease” line also seems sexual as such context. I think the boudoir line (where Hope says she has been there, but not on her own will) was created during this stage, and then in act 3 chaos it was just left there because why not.

All in all, Hope writing is indeed a hot mess. She was supposed to symbolize how predatory, corrupt and rotten inside Raphael is, but the delivery of this story was rehashed so many times it fell really flat. I like the general idea of Hope, I think it could have been great, but the execution fell on the nose and is still lying there whimpering. I think my personal main take away from Hope story that Raph is obsessive, doesn’t really give a shit about consent (only on a extremely formal put your signature here or die level) and has strong yandere vibes.

Thank you for your ask ❤️

[sarksarkos]

DC 1956: Batman gone... WOKE????/?questionmark??

Detective Comics #233 is the introduction of Kathy Kane, the Batwoman. In a shocking twist of history, she was created to make the comic less gay.

So, we all know the subtext about Batman and Robin. It is not a new thing to suggest that people, even back in the 50s, thought that they were gayer than Gorgeous George. Batwoman, aka Kathy Kane, was created to dispel those concerns by giving Batman a superhero love interest. Kathy would later be rewritten as both a lesbian and Bruce's cousin, which throws a bit of a retroactive wrench in things.

For the time period this comic was created in, they actually do a really good job with the character. Batwoman is presented as every bit as capable as Batman. At times she scoops him, other times she saves him. She relies more on gadgets than fisticuffs - and said gadgets are based on cosmetics because you know what those women are like - but she's still effective in a fight.

In the end, Batman uncovers Batwoman's secret identity, but Batwoman had a mutually assured destruction plan - an X-Ray camera that could effectively film through Batman's mask. Batman convinces Batwoman to give up on fighting crime, but she would be back within a year.

A story that adds something to the lore is in Detective Comics #235, which reveals that Batman's father, Thomas Wayne, briefly wore a Batman costume and fought criminals, although only one time. This story has some legs to it, and in the 2000s the concept was brought back as Dr. Hurt, who wore a version of Thomas Wayne's costume.

This is a recton to the classic origin that actually works for me. Batman is traditionally inspired by a primal fear, but this puts more emphasis on the influence that his parents had on him. Batman has always been motivated by the loss of his parents and - while his dad wearing a batman costume is kind of hokey - it is a good symbolism for the type of person that Bruce Wayne wants to be. Batman is a character defined by fear, but there are also aspects of love and hope in his character, and it's important to show that.

Another story that shows the more hopeful side of Batman is the cover story from Batman #101. This is a pretty simple story about how Batman's lost cape intersects with the lives of some ordinary people. A stuntman wears it to get publicity, a man getting mugged uses it to scare away thieves, and a man with a fear of heights uses it to get over his phobia. I genuinely like these kinds of stories because they show how the superhero doesn't need to fight crime to be a positive influence on people around him.

The wild thing is that this is premised on Batman and everyone in his orbit being terrible at their jobs. We're told that a detective Batman worked with had deduced his secret identity before dying. Before doing so, he mailed Batman a replica of his cape with "BATMAN IS BRUCE WAYNE" stitched on the inside. He didn't even put it in code or anything like that one guy did with Superboy.

Not only did Batman just keep that lying around unguarded next to their regular cape, but Alfred just casually switches them around and gives Batman the wrong cape, and then it just blows off of his head in the wind! Bruce. Listen. We're friends here. We love you. I get that everyone rolls a 1 on a saving throw from time to time but this is just some gross incompetence. I would expect this kind of chicanery from Ted Kord but not you, Bruce.

Not only does Batman have to get his fat pulled out of the fire by a random Superman encounter, he then immediately gives away Superman's secret identity to anyone who might be listening!

It's like why even be the Batman if you're not gonna take it seriously?

Until next time!

[riotwritesthings]

An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron, M, 5.8k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, angst, drinking, mentions of past ships

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends- It can’t be- But they are.

This chapter suuuure went a direction. I really hope you enjoy and don't want to burn me at the stake ahaha

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

~~~

Chapter 3: the ceiling starts to swerve

“This is Colonel Rhodes.”

Rhodey sounds exhausted, and stressed, and Tony knows that as usual it’s at least ninety percent his fault. There’s a cacophony of noise in the background, and Tony’s willing to bet that he’s having a hell of a day.

He wishes he didn’t have to make it worse.

“Hey SourPatch,” Tony forces himself to say in greeting, his throat suddenly dry.

“Holy shit,” Rhodey says in a rush of air, his voice dropping in volume halfway through. There’s a shuffling sound, and then all the background noise is cut off by the heavy thud of a door closing. “Tony, what the hell happened?” He demands in a strained, tense whisper, "you- are you okay?"

“I- I’m fine,” Tony lies.

He’d hoped that hearing Rhodey’s voice would feel comforting, familiar.

Instead he feels… nothing.

No, not nothing. He is relieved to talk to Rhodey again.

But it feels more like- Some small part of him is relieved to have a link to the world. Anything outside of this weird little- soulmate bubble they’ve accidentally set up for themselves, some reminder of what’s real. But even that slice of relief is-

Disconnected.

There’s no warmth to it, no rush of calm comfort that Rhodey’s voice usually gives him. He remembers their decades of friendship perfectly clearly, but- There’s no connection to the voice on the other end of the line, like he’s talking to someone else.

Like he’s talking to a stranger.

Tony’s breath catches wetly in his throat and his eyes burn.

Fuck this stupid bond.

It’s already apparently taken most of his self-control and personal space, replacing them both with- with a stranger. It took all of his plans and goals in Berlin, and probably any remaining scraps of trust his team had in him.

And now this inexplicable thing, some weird imbalance of chemicals or something, is taking his oldest, closest relationship.

Barnes- Bucky- is still staring out the front window, keeping an eye out for whatever and pretending not to listen.

Tony is painfully aware of the distance between them, of the tension winding Bucky’s shoulders up tight. Tony can feel it like a pull in his own chest and if the phone weren’t mounted to the wall he would go over there-

He viciously shoves that thought down, shoves down the ache in his sternum.

Rhodey is still talking on the other end of the line, repeating his name in an increasingly frantic tone, and it’s a struggle to focus on that.

It’s so much easier to focus on the mere feet separating him from Bucky, the way it felt to wake up next to him. Whatever it is that’s been twisting Bucky tighter and tighter since they woke up-

“Tony-”

“I’m here,” Tony says quickly. “I’m okay.”

Over by the window, Bucky’s shoulders twitch up a little higher.

“What happened in Berlin?” Rhodey asks, sounding impossibly more freaked out than he had before.

And that’s the big question, isn’t it? Laughter bubbles up in Tony’s chest before he can stop it, high-pitched and hysterical.

“I’m- It’s- I really can’t get into it right now,” Tony says weakly around slips of laughter that he can’t contain, and he can hear Rhodey’s worry spiking.

Reading his best friend even without seeing him is still as familiar as breathing, but Tony doesn’t *feel * anything.

Not like he can feel Bucky trying and failing not to shift on his feet, painfully curious and trying to fight it. Or maybe just trying to hide it, Tony can’t quite tell but he’s sure that if he got closer-

It’s making it really hard to focus on the conversation. And fuck, he wants to talk to Rhodey. He swears he does. But suddenly it’s not as easy as it’s always been.

“Are you-” Rhodey asks carefully, his voice low, “are you still with him? Are you being held captive?”

The ‘again’ goes unspoken and Tony fights down another hysterical giggle.

He is, but not in any of the ways Rhodey would be expecting. He’s being held captive by himself, by an inability to leave Bucky behind that is so deep-set the idea hasn’t even fully occurred to him.

“Yes, but no, he- he’s here, but it’s nothing like that,” Tony says, because that’s the easy answer. “This is not a Taken situation.”

“That’s not- never mind,” Rhodey says, and things must be really bad if he’s not taking the time to correct Tony on the finer points of action movies.

Fuck, why doesn’t he feel anything?

“So- What then?” Rhodey asks slowly, struggling to wrap his brain around the situation when Tony can’t tell him anything. "Did- I mean, you didn’t- did you kidnap Barnes?"

Tony laughs again and part of him wants to say yes. They kidnapped each other, and themselves, and now they’re holding themselves hostage.

But he knows Rhodey is in no mood for vague jokes.

“Why and how would I have done that?” Tony asks with a strangled chuckle. He remembers the way Barnes had been fighting before they ran into each other, all vicious, brutal efficiency. Even if he’d had his suit, Tony’s not sure he could have gotten The Winter Soldier out of there against the man’s will. At least not alive.

"I don’t know," Rhodey says in a huff, annoyance briefly winning out over his worry, “but Rogers is convinced that you absconded with his friend for some reason.”

“Why?” Tony sputters out while Bucky twitches again.

The other man is more tense than ever, wound so tightly that he’s about to snap. Tony can feel it in his teeth and he wants to dig his fingers into the muscles of Bucky’s shoulders, feel the warmth of him as the tension slowly fades-

"You tell me," Rhodey shoots back. "I’ve seen the security footage, Tones, and no one knows what to think. It looks a hell of a lot like the two of you just- left together."

“That is-” Tony says with a wince, “the extremely short version.” He can tell Rhodey is about to jump in with more questions, and Tony really wants to get to the reason he called. “So, what are people saying, exactly? Other than Steve.”

Rhodey lets out a long, heavy sigh, but tells him.

It’s about as bad as he expected.

There are people who think Tony was captured by the mysterious terrorist, and of course people who think he went rogue and recruited Bucky for his own nefarious purposes. About half of the team thinks it’s some kind of mind control, which would probably break Tony’s heart if he stopped to let himself think about it. But he just urges Rhodey to continue.

Ross has managed to convince a concerning number of people who matter that Tony is some kind of sleeper agent for Hydra, taking back possession of their soldier. Which is an insulting angle for the man to take, he can’t even imagine Tony as a high-ranking undercover genius?

And apparently, Steve thinks Tony kidnapped his best friend. Tony isn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Honestly, he can’t figure out what Steve thinks his reason would be.

“All in all, about half the world is hunting the two of you for one reason or another,” Rhodey finishes. He doesn’t waste a second before demanding, "Now are you going to tell me why?

“I’m sorry, Platypus,” Tony says, and he means it. He wishes he felt it. “I just- I couldn’t-”

Tony knows how he wants to finish that sentence.

‘I couldn’t let anyone take him, couldn’t not go with him, couldn’t fight it.’

But he can’t say any of that out loud, it’s still too raw and terrifying even in his own mind. The power that the bond has over him is still- It’s like a light that’s too bright to look at directly, he can’t face it fully yet.

And he definitely can’t put it into words or he’s pretty sure he’ll throw himself right back into a panic attack.

“I- There was- a thing, and we had to get out of there,” Tony finally says weakly. “And I- I can’t explain it any more than that right now.”

He can hear Rhodey’s displeasure with that answer, but Tony doesn’t feel as guilty as he should. He feels guilty that he doesn’t feel more guilty.

Tony’s chest clenches and he can feel Bucky fighting the urge to turn away from the window to look at him.

“I will, eventually,” Tony promises and hopes like hell it’s not another lie. “I just- I have to wrap my head around this first,” he adds, “and- hopefully my brain won’t fucking explode in the process.”

Rhodey blows out a hard sigh and then asks, “You’ve really gotten yourself into it this time, haven’t you, Tones?”

“You have no idea, SourPatch,” Tony says, fighting down another strangled laugh. He tears his gaze away from Bucky for probably the first time in the conversation so he can rub at his dry eyes. “First I have to- fuck, figure out how to fix this.”

“Well,” Rhodey starts slowly, "it would help a whole hell of a lot if you brought Barnes back-"

“No,” Tony cuts him off, surprising everyone with the vehemence in his voice.

When he drops his hand away from his face he catches Bucky’s eye for a moment, wide and so blue, before Bucky whips his head back around to the window.

“I can’t do that,” Tony continues, trying to keep his tone normal, “he- he’s innocent, Rhodey, he wasn’t even in Vienna.”

He doesn’t need Bucky nodding at the window to confirm it, somehow Tony knows. He’s felt it in the confused tension still wound tightly through Bucky’s chest. In the quiet, terrified exhaustion that started to set in as soon as they made it out of Germany.

Bucky doesn’t know why, or how, but he knows he’s being framed. So Tony knows it too. And he knows that true to Bucky’s word, he’s so used to not having control that he’s not even surprised to be used in this new and creative way.

Rhodey sighs. "Well then, bring him back and prove-"

“C’mon Platypus,” Tony cuts him off again, “you know it isn’t that easy. Someone already got to him while he was in ‘safe custody,’ and if that doesn’t happen again then he’s likely to get ‘disappeared,’ and I can’t-”

Tony’s voice comes to an abrupt stop as his chest clenches painfully, his throat pulling tight. The thought of someone trying to take Bucky away-

The force of the fury that rushes over him knocks the air out of his lungs. Through the pounding of blood in his ears all he can think is that he can’t let that happen, he can’t- he won’t.

No one is going to take his soulmate away from him, not at any cost.

Somewhere far, far beneath the weight of that knowledge, the rational sliver of his mind that remains is terrified to find out what price he’ll be willing to pay.

He doesn’t even want a- but he won’t be able to fight it any more than he’s been able to resist the bond until now, he already attacked Natasha without thought- What else would he do-

Bucky lets out a low, pained sound that Tony snaps out of his spiraling thoughts.

The fuzz and dancing spots fade from his vision as he drags in a shuddering breath, and he sees that Bucky is still politely staring out the window. He can tell that Bucky isn’t actually seeing anything though, too caught up in his own thoughts, in the tension pulling his shoulders painfully tight.

Tony forces himself to take another slow breath, and Bucky relaxes minutely.

"Hey, Tones, Tony-" Rhodey is saying in his ear and it filters slowly into Tony’s consciousness, so much less important than watching Bucky’s hand shake as he balls it into a fist.

“Yeah, yeah I’m still here,” Tony forces out, his voice rough.

He must sound really bad, because Rhodey takes pity on him and doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Look,” he says, almost as gently as he spoke when Tony first came back from Afghanistan, “I’ve been working to clear up all the most ridiculous lies. Are you safe right now, wherever you are?”

Tony only has to stare at Bucky’s back for a second before the man nods stiffly.

“As safe as I can be in a haunted shack,” Tony replies with a weak attempt at a smile, hoping that Rhodey can hear it over the line.

“Okay,” Rhodey says, “okay, here’s the plan.”

~~~

Tony is not a fan of the plan.

He doesn’t like that Rhodey is fighting Ross and his ridiculous lies for him. He doesn’t like that he’s just supposed to wait until Rhodey can make sure that they won’t be black-bagged the second they step foot back on the grid.

And he especially doesn’t like that he’s supposed to wait here, in the farmhouse from hell. With its outhouse and its single broken bed.

Despite the size of the mess, part of him had been looking forward to cleaning it up. Arguing with Steve and rich old senators is at least familiar, would make him feel like he still has some semblance of control over his life.

He was really fucking looking forward to feeling in control again.

Instead he’s still stuck out here, just him and Bucky.

It’s like they’ve left the rest of the world behind and Tony- He needs to get back to the real world. He can’t fight the bond but maybe he could- could ignore it a little more with other people around, with all the complicated problems that he can’t- He can barely remember right now.

The Accords, the Avengers, SI and everything, it’s all so far away. And if he doesn’t get back to it soon-

He’s not sure that he’ll want to.

With a frustrated sigh Tony finally stops glaring at the phone hanging on the wall.

Bucky is still standing at the front window, resolutely pretending to ignore Tony’s conversation. Despite everything, Tony feels a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

“Okay, excellent ignoring,” Tony says with a huff, “you can stop now.”

After a second of hestiation, his fists still clenched, Bucky turns to face him again and-

Blue.

Tony’s next inhale is so much easier, like his lungs are filling fully for the first time since Bucky stepped across the shack. It’s so damn nice, all the stress of the phone call melting away. The guilt and the distance of hiding from his best friend are inconsequential.

The real world is all mistakes and panic attacks. Why does he need-

Bucky’s gaze drops to the floor and Tony’s chest pulls tight again.

Something is still tearing Bucky apart, and he doesn’t know what.

It’s been getting worse and worse since they woke up, since whatever occurred to him and ruined their relatively peaceful morning. And Tony doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t think it’s just Bucky taking his turn with the panic attack. It’s related to being stuck here for an unknown amount of time, the tension spiked sharply when that part of the plan came up, but that’s not the whole story.

Whatever it is, it’s stabbing through Bucky’s lungs and turning his stomach, making it almost impossible to breathe. Tony can feel it like a phantom pain in his own chest, he can feel it crawling its way up Bucky’s throat.

The silence stretches as Bucky stares at the floor and Tony stares at him. Tony’s pulse is picking up as the tension builds.

It- it’s bad. It’s hanging over them like an anvil, like a guillotine, and Tony stops breathing as Bucky takes a shuddering inhale.

Bucky opens his mouth, and Tony tries to brace himself.

But all Bucky says is, “I was tryin’ not to listen.” His tone is sheepish but his voice is tight, nearly strangled.

Tony lets out a hard rush of air. Part of him wants to pry, most of him wants to pry, but-

He shouldn’t even know that something’s wrong with Bucky. They don’t actually know each other, they met yesterday.

Without the bond he wouldn’t be able to read Bucky at all, or at least not nearly this well. If he tries to pry- It’s like he’s giving into the bond. Accepting it.

And he can’t do that.

So Tony forces himself to let it go, to tear his eyes away from Bucky’s carefully blank face.

“If we’re stuck here, there better be food,” Tony says as he turns towards the small kitchen. “I am not above eating you for survival.”

After a couple of seconds Bucky silently shuffles after him, like he just can’t help himself.

There is food, and most of it is still safely packed in cans and sealed jars. Even if it doesn’t look very appetizing. There’s no coffee, though, which means that Tony’s headache is only going to get worse.

While Bucky hopefully determines if the water is safe, Tony slams through the cabinets a final time. He’s not pouting, but he’s also not actually expecting to find anything else.

Until he discovers the large jar of clear liquid hidden in the back of a high cabinet.

“'S that moonshine?” Bucky asks, suddenly standing just close enough that Tony can feel the rumble of his voice.

“Samanė, I believe,” Tony says, already unscrewing the lid, “which, basically the same thing.”

He’s trying to ignore the shiver running down his spine. And he’s trying even harder to ignore the urge to lean back into Bucky and chase the feeling.

It may not be the best idea at the moment, but Tony does need a distraction. And if he’s stuck here then he’ll take what he can get.

~~~

"This’s strong," Bucky says, squinting into his chipped glass.

Tony hums in agreement.

He’s not sure where his own glass is. He knows he had it when he dropped down onto the couch.

Before he can work up the effort to look for it Bucky is picking Tony’s glass up from the ground and offering it to him. Tony takes it with a grunt of thanks. Bucky quickly returns to staring into his own glass.

His next swig of the strong liquor doesn’t burn, just settles nicely in the warm pit of Tony’s stomach.

The tension is being forcibly melted out of his limbs. All the problems are being drowned out by the pleasant buzzing between his ears.

He considers the other man, because through the warm haze nothing else matters. And he can’t quite remember why that matters right now.

Bucky decided to sit in front of the couch when Tony sprawled out over the entire thing. He’s been shooting Tony increasingly un-subtle looks as they drink. With the way he’s leaning back, if Tony just moved his leg a little it would press against the strong, tense line of Bucky’s shoulders.

Tony takes another sip and forces himself to stay still.

Bucky glances over him again. The faintest hint of pink is spreading across his cheeks.

They’ve been carefully not talking since they started drinking. They don’t really need to.

But Tony still finds himself asking, “Is this- is it doin’ anythin’ for you?”

Bucky looks over at him and Tony tips his glass in explanation. Bucky’s lips twitch as he nods. He returns his gaze to his half-empty glass, then downs it.

"An’ it’s disinfectin’ my throat," Bucky says with a cough and a wince.

“Good,” Tony says as Bucky grabs for the jar again, "pretty sure you’re drinkin’ most of it. And if you’re just doin’ it to feel the burn I will- I’m gonna be mad."

Bucky snorts as he refills his glass.

“And Steve can- can’t even get drunk,” Tony adds.

The words slip out before he can think them through. The way that Bucky flinches minutely at the name isn’t really a surprise. Tony feels bad for bringing it up, he feels-

A lot of things.

He slid further down against the arm of the couch at some point and he’s mostly staring at the stained ceiling. His shin is pressed against the line of Bucky’s shoulders and he doesn’t remember doing that either. It takes effort to lift his head enough to keep Bucky in his field of view.

Now that he’s started Tony can’t seem to stop talking. The words are bubbling up in his throat and he can’t quite remember why he shouldn’t let them out.

So much for their unspoken ‘no speaking’ agreement.

"Still can’t believe he thinks I fuckin’- That I kidnapped you," he says with a snort.

Bucky’s metal thumb moves restlessly around his glass. It clicks against the chipped rim.

“No of-ffense,” Tony adds. He rolls his head along the arm of the couch to stare sideways at Bucky. “You just- you seem more the kidnapper- kidnappy type.”

He watches with fascination as emotions make their way across Bucky’s face. Wondering if he should be offended followed by reluctant amusement. Tony can feel all of it.

And he can feel the cold knot that wraps itself back around Bucky’s lungs as soon as the moment is gone. Tony still can’t put a name to the feeling and he’s getting pretty sick of all the things he can’t explain.

Like what’s bothering Bucky. And the fact that he has a soulmate. And why Steve would even think-

“Wait,” Tony says, failing his way upright. He spills a good half of his drink on his undershirt and takes a split second to wonder when he lost his dress shirt. “Wait,” he says again and has to blink a couple times as the room spins, “wait, did- tell me I didn’-”

He trails off, trying to tell through the haze of liquor if what he’s remembering is real. Bucky looks up at him again, and Tony’s breath catches.

Fuck, when is that going to stop happening? He already has enough trouble breathing.

Bucky is still staring at him and Tony struggles to remember what he’d been about to say.

“Was- Is there any truth to the rumors of- of war-torn lovers?” Tony asks, alarm creeping into his voice. "Did I steal Captain America’s boyfriend?"

The way Bucky’s eyes go wide and his shoulders hunch up around his ears says plenty, even as his mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

Tony groans as he flops heavily back down onto the couch. At least he doesn’t spill his drink this time. There’s a laugh building in his chest, edged with hysteria. It certainly explains a lot.

“I think he might- he might actually kill me,” Tony says to the shifting patterns on the ceiling.

They fall into silence while Tony tries to wrap his head around just how fucked up this is. He can hear Bucky finishing off another glass. His own drink is suddenly sitting a little too warm in his gut.

“It wasn’-” Bucky says slowly and Tony cranes his head around to look at him. “It wasn’ really like that. Or- We jus’- We never-”

“Never quite found the right time?” Tony guesses when he trails off. Because isn’t that how all the tragedies go?

Bucky nods into his empty glass, his expression twisted in misery.

The hot pit of something in Tony’s stomach is getting worse, starting to crawl its way up his throat. He’d almost think he’s about to be sick except-

He’s jealous. It’s jealousy burning its way through his chest, familiar but twisted.

Which is stupid for so many reasons, but the biggest one is that he doesn’t need to be. According to all the legends Bucky can’t- They’re stuck together now. Neither one of them can leave.

Tony has to remind himself that it’s because they don’t have a choice. It shouldn’t be comforting, to know that someone can’t leave him, can never even want to-

No, he wants Bucky- Someone, he wants someone to have a choice about staying with him.

He tells himself that’s what he wants. He wishes he believed it.

“I need more- more booze,” Tony says as he pushes himself upright, "way more booze for this fuckin'- conversation."

Bucky hands him the jar, turning towards him in the process. Tony squints at the amount of liquid remaining before taking a swig directly from the jar.

"You- What’d you mean, rumors?" Bucky asks. His eyebrows are pinched and it’s-

Definitely not adorable.

Tony hums and takes another sip, stalling.

“You, uh-” he says slowly, “the two of you- may have been a brief topic. In my- Um, in my queer history elective?”

Bucky blinks slowly. Then he lets out a long groan and drops his face to the couch cushion next to Tony’s thigh.

“Sorry,” Tony says with a wince and does his best not to laugh. “Is that- Is it better or worse than bein’ a ghost?”

“Worse,” Bucky mutters into the couch.

Tony decides not to tell him about the recovered sketches that were shown in that class.

When Bucky eventually lifts his head again it’s to steal the jar of Samanė back and take a long drink. His face is distinctly more flushed and loose strands of hair are clinging to his forehead.

The rest of the room is spinning, but Tony has no problem focusing on the tired blue of Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky looks away again, embarrassment and some new flavor of guilt twisting him up. There’s no sadness though, and Tony’s pretty sure that’s the reason for at least half of the guilt.

“You- Don’ feel bad,” Tony says and nudges his knee against Bucky’s shoulder. “Who- I mean who hasn’t had a big ol’ crush on Steve?” He adds sarcastically.

He slowly realizes he’d forgotten to add any sarcasm to his voice as Bucky raises an eyebrow at him. Tony could try to play it off, but he can feel his own cheeks warming. And Bucky will see right through him.

“There was a fan club at my boarding school,” Tony says defensively. He’s not sure if it helps his point or not.

Bucky snorts out a laugh halfway through taking another drink and winces. Tony doesn’t feel bad for him. But he can’t stop talking.

"And then I met Steve, which- He’s- I mean, I guess I don’t have to tell you-" Tony finds himself saying, despite swearing he’d never admit this to anyone.

It’s easier than he would have thought. The battle of New York and everything that followed feels so far away now. He remembers all the feelings, the hurt followed by longing and the sting of rejection when Steve- when no one stayed-

But it’s like it all happened to someone else. Like he read it in a story.

Bucky is still watching him, arm propped up on the couch. The flush of liquor doesn’t hide the complicated mix of emotions moving over his face as he waits.

"Not that anythin’ ever- y’know, happened," Tony finishes quickly and doesn’t bother wondering why he needs to assure Bucky of that. “He never- And I’m me, so-”

Tony sinks his teeth into his lower lip, cutting himself off. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. He starts to open his mouth, and Tony cuts him off too.

“And then someone came back to life,” he says with the best glare he can work up at the moment, “an’ there- there went my chance. Or my delusional dream of a chance, anyways.”

Bucky winces apologetically and offers him the liquor. Tony laughs and takes it while he watches the other man clench his jaw. This time he knows exactly what Bucky is feeling.

“Super weird backward jealousy pangs, right?” He asks knowingly and tries not to be pleased about it. He fails.

A wry smile pulls at Bucky’s lips as he nods slightly. He drops his gaze to the couch and watches himself pick at the worn fabric.

“An’- An’ what about now?” Bucky asks without looking up. “Was- I-Is there-”

It takes Tony a second to figure out what he’s asking, and then he huffs.

“No, no worries,” he says, leaning forward slightly to pat Bucky’s metal elbow. “You’re not the- the homewrecker here, jus’ me.”

For a second he doesn’t even remember that that wouldn’t have been true, a couple of weeks ago.

The breakup with Pepper had been so fresh and raw even- fuck, just a day ago. When he’d been reluctantly admitting it to Steve and fighting down a twisted mess of emotions. Now it doesn’t hurt any worse than when his first crush had laughed in his face.

The soulmate bond makes one hell of a bandaid, and at least that’s something.

Bucky is still staring at him, like he can see Tony going over all of that in his mind. And he probably can. Tony’s hand is still resting on the other man’s metal arm, and he wonders if Bucky can feel it.

The silence stretches and Tony takes an uncomfortable swig of Samanė. He should probably move his hand, but he doesn’t.

“I am- 'M pretty good at chasing people off all- all on my own,” he can’t help adding, and Bucky’s eyebrows furrow again. “Don’ make that face at me,” Tony says and lifts his hand to poke Bucky between the eyebrows instead.

Bucky blinks and his face softens in surprise. Then he laughs, and Tony grins as his heart thumps in his chest. Bucky reaches up to grab Tony’s hand and pull it away from his face. Their fingers fit together without any effort and Bucky’s skin is surprisingly soft against his.

“Why d’you- you keep-” Bucky starts and then trails off, distracted. He runs his thumb over a burn scar on the side of Tony’s hand.

Tony’s breath catches and doesn’t restart as Bucky’s thumb moves down to his palm. He can feel the swirls of Bucky’s thumbprint against his skin. Every drag sends a bolt of warmth through him that the warmth of the liquor can’t compare to.

He inhales shakily when Bucky looks up at him, caught in those blue eyes.

What had they been talking about? He doesn’t remember now.

Bucky licks his lips and Tony stares. The way they’ve been drinking, they probably taste the same- And once the thought hits him Tony has to know-

He’s not sure which of them leans forward. Maybe him, because the room is spinning again. Bucky sighs and Tony can feel the rush of air against his cheek.

Tony shifts his fingers against Bucky’s wrist and realizes he can feel Bucky’s rapid pulse. He’s pretty sure his own heart is beating in time and he’s still moving closer.

It’s like he’s being pulled in, like he doesn’t have a choice.

Does he even need a choice? This feels- Why does he need anything else when this is so-

Right.

He can almost feel Bucky’s lips against his. Tony’s eyelids flutter as he struggles to keep them open.

He wants-

Beneath his fingers, Bucky’s pulse skips. It stops entirely for a terrifying second, then starts racing sickeningly. Something cold rushes through Bucky and he sucks in a sharp breath as he jerks away.

His hand slips away from Tony’s.

It’s just like this morning. The same icy chill running through Bucky as he pulls away. The same gut-twisting feeling that’s- It’s like guilt but so much more complicated.

It's different than when they were talking about Steve, or anything else. It’s-

Part of Tony doesn’t want to know.

Bucky won’t meet his eyes. He’s curling in on himself, withdrawing.

And Tony can’t let that happen. He can’t let this keep happening. He can’t-

He tightens his grip on the nearly empty jar and swallows thickly.

“Alright, out with it,” he says.

“What?” Bucky asks, practically flinching. He pulls his arm off the couch and curls it into his chest.

“Out with it,” Tony repeats, his voice shaking. “Whatever you need to tell me, just spill. It- It’s been driving you crazy all day and that- it’s driving me crazy.”

Bucky goes carefully still. He doesn’t look up. He’s not breathing.

Tony waits. He bites his lip again so he won’t start demanding answers.

There are already so many things right now that he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand. He needs to know.

What could be so bad?

This isn’t- Bucky isn’t supposed to be able to pull away. He can’t, that’s not how it- This isn’t fair.

Tony can’t completely swallow down a hurt noise. His eyes burn. It feels like his chest is cracking open, his lungs filling with ice- with snow-

Bucky’s gaze flicks up to him and then down again, expression pained. Blue eyes haunted.

Neither of them are breathing now.

He can’t stop thinking that none of this is fair.

Tony doesn’t- he didn’t even want a soulmate and now- The thought of Bucky pulling away is gutting him. It’s not fair that something as stupid as a secret is cracking his chest open.

It isn’t fair of him to need answers, either. Part of him knows that. They’d still be strangers, if they had a choice-

But they don’t.

“Bucky,” he says, his voice a harsh croak. A plea. He wants to reach out, but he doesn’t.

The other man flinches like he’d shouted. Tony waits.

Finally Bucky drags in a shuddering breath and tears his eyes away from his own hands. He practically snatches the jar from Tony and finishes off the Samanė in one long swallow.

Tony’s stomach churns as he continues to wait.

Bucky takes another steadying breath and fixes his gaze over Tony’s shoulder. His jaw clenches. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

The crater in Tony’s chest gets deeper.

“N-Nine- Nineteen Ninety One,” Bucky eventually manages to get out. His voice is raw and his eyes are glazed, unseeing. “December n-ninet-teenth.”

That’s all he says for a long moment and Tony is still waiting.

He doesn’t even recognize the date for a split second, and then he’s just confused.

“I-I was-” Bucky continues haltingly. The feeling of cold gets worse. “I- It wasn’ an accident.”

It doesn’t makes sense. Tony knows that date, but it was- His parents died in an accident. He knows that. He-

“What?” Tony asks flatly. Blankly. He doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t- it doesn’t make sense.

Bucky swallows thickly. His cheeks are wet and all the color has faded from his face.

Tony wants to reach out, but he doesn’t.

He can’t move.

“December N-Nineteenth,” Bucky says again. His hands are clenched together so tightly that they both shake. “It wasn’ an- I-I was there, I- I’m th- I-”

Bucky’s voice cuts off, strangled. He clenches his jaw.

There’s a sick feeling rising in Tony’s throat, and he’s not sure which of them it belongs to.

“You- what’re you-” Tony starts to ask, gasping the words out.

But he doesn’t need to.

Bucky blinks rapidly and then meets Tony’s eye. He looks so-

It-

Everything hurts.

And Tony-

He knows.

[hbyrde36]

Caught in the Undertow

Hi, 👋 Welcome to another old fic made new again! I promise this is my last re-write, but in similar fashion to Times Like These I found myself fixated recently on giving this fic the more practiced hand it deserves. I hadn't planned on posting much about it until the full re-write was done, but with the Steddie big bang deadline rapidly approaching, it's going to take a little longer than I thought. (And being a slut for encouragement, I figured why not start sharing the first 5 redone chapters now while I work on the rest, in hopes someone will enjoy it.)

Summary:

Against all odds, Steve Harrington saved Eddie Munson from certain death. And Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forgive him for it.

Chapter One

WC: 1980 | R: Explicit | TW: Suicidal ideation/depression | Ch 1/10 | AO3

On some level, Eddie had always sort-of wanted to die. 

He never planned it out, and he wouldn’t actually do anything about it—probably—but he fantasized about it a lot. 

Which was maybe something he should unpack with a therapist at some point, but that type of thing wasn’t really in the budget for a kid who lived in a trailer park and sold a little weed on the side for extra cash.

Sometimes, on the really bad nights just before falling asleep, he found himself wishing, praying even, not that he really believed in such things, to just not wake up again. And deep down he knew that if he were ever faced with the opportunity to bow out, so to speak, especially in a way that wouldn’t burden anyone—bonus points for a blaze of glory—he’d take it.

The idea came to him as he was helping Dustin to climb up the sheet rope and into the safety of the right-side-up, the thumping sound of the bats throwing themselves into the sides of the trailer, trying so desperately to get in, grating on his already frayed nerves.

It had truly been the week from hell. 

He was cold, dirty, and scared. Overwhelmed with the new reality he’d been forced to accept with exactly zero time to process, and having to come to terms with the fact that there’d been a whole other world existing right under his feet for fucking years, all while on the run from the cops, as well as a community calling for his head on a pike. 

It left him with that all too familiar feeling—weary down to his bones in a way that no nap or good night’s sleep could ever cure.

It wasn’t even a debate in his mind.

Eddie pulled his switchblade out from one of the many pockets on the snazzy green vest Harrington had picked up for him from The Warzone, and slashed the rope, ensuring that Dustin couldn’t follow him—ensuring the kid’s safety before rushing out into the dark to lead the bats away.

Life sure was funny, he thought wryly as he mounted one of the bikes they’d left behind during their last jaunt into the Upside Down, it can take you to places you never even dreamed of, and yet you’ll still wind up exactly where you’re meant to be. 

He peddled as fast as he could, trying to get the bats as far away from the gate as possible.

This was it, the chance he’d always longed for, and at least this way he could leave knowing his life meant something. His sacrifice would keep Dustin safe, keep the demobats out of their world, and buy more time for Harrington and the girls to kill Vecna.

It was a win-win.

And really, what sort of life would he be going back to anyway?

Devil worshiper, cult leader, freak, murderer. It was too many labels, too many things to overcome, just too much, the way he’d always been too much. Too loud, too different, too broken for anyone to want to get too close. 

Worse—when he wasn’t busy being too much, he wasn't enough. Not smart enough, clearly. Who takes this many tries to graduate high school? Not a good enough son, if his parents dumping him on Wayne’s doorstep and never looking back was any indication.

Wayne.

Thinking of the older man caused a brief stab of guilt. Uncle Wayne would be sad when he was gone, no question. The old man wasn’t shy about his love for his only nephew, but honestly this was for the best for him too. One less thing to worry about, and one less mouth to feed. It couldn’t have been easy on his uncle all these years. Raising a kid was never easy, surely, let alone raising someone else’s, but Eddie had no doubt that he’d posed an especially unique challenge.

It wasn’t long before Eddie’s legs failed him, exhaustion making them feel like lead, slowing his pace to the point that the bats were right on his tail, the bulk of the swarm a swirling black cloud above him. One of the little fuckers peeled away from the group, swooping down to knock him from the bike. He flew over the handlebars, hitting the dirt hard, rolling several times before coming to a stop and scrambling back to his feet. 

Eddie screamed his pain at the advancing hoard, banging his shield and raising it against the onslaught of gnashing teeth and beating wings. 

He stood his ground. 

He didn’t give up.

He fought to the very end, until he was overtaken and brought to the ground, laid out like a feast for his unsightly foe.

Later—minutes or hours he had no sense of time anymore, as he lay there dying, soaking the ground beneath him as he bled out, Eddie wondered at his own actions. It must have been a reflex, some long dormant base instinct to survive popping up at the last second, because why else would he fight so hard when it would have made more sense to not? When the writing was on the wall, when this was what he wanted?

Eddie had wanted this.

Hadn’t he?

Steve was soaring. 

He was fucking ecstatic. 

They did it, they’d killed Vecna. 

They fucking won for once, their years-long nightmare finally over for good. 

He, Nancy, and Robin smiled at each other, laughing in hysterical relief as they bounded down the crumbling old steps of the Creel house, the criss-crossing vines that decorated nearly every surface laying dead and dormant. 

The walk back to Forest Hills was spent recounting every detail of their battle. Each one of Nancy’s expert shots, and every molotov cocktail that Steve and Robin had thrown. So sure he was that their little group had had the most dangerous job, save for maybe Max, it didn’t even cross Steve’s mind to worry about the others just yet. He couldn't wait to see Dustin's face, to celebrate this victory with him and the rest of the twerps. 

It wasn’t until they were nearly back to the trailer that he realized something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.

He heard Dustin’s cries long before he saw him, and Steve didn’t hesitate to take off running as fast as his legs would carry him in the direction of the sound, trusting that the girls would follow. 

Steve’s heart dropped when the scene finally came into view—Dustin with his head bowed, sobbing as he knelt over the lifeless body of Eddie Munson.

“What happened?” Steve asked, skidding to a stop at their side, dropping to his knees next to the younger boy.

“H-he said he was gonna buy more time. The bats started getting into the trailer and he made me go through the gate first—he made me—and then he cut the rope and then he—” Dustin's voice shook, his eyes shining and red rimmed as he raised his head to meet Steve’s gaze. “He’s gone.”

Those two words broke something inside Steve. 

He couldn't allow this, wouldn’t accept it. They fucking won goddamn it. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. If any one of them wasn’t going to make it out of this place alive, it should have been him, not Eddie.

“Not if I have anything to say about it.”

Steve bent over the prone figure, listening closely for any signs of breathing while pressing his fingers to Eddie’s neck to check for a pulse. He found neither at first but didn’t let that deter him. Eddie’s skin was still warm and Steve's hands were shaking, his own heartbeat pounding so loudly in his head that it could feasibly be drowning out signs of life.

He gently nudged a still silently weeping Dustin aside and began CPR. 

“What can I do?” Robin asked from his left. She and Nancy must have finally caught up, he hadn’t even heard their approach. 

Steve kept an even rhythm, concentrating all his effort on his compressions as he replied. “Find something to wrap his side, I think that’s where most of the blood is coming from. Then take Dustin back through the gate and call an ambulance. I want them waiting on the other side before I try to move him.”

Robin quickly jumped into action, slipping her jacket off to remove her button down, and with Dustin’s help began working it around Eddie’s middle.

“Steve," Nancy whispered his name, carefully, gently. She was kneeling down on Eddie’s other side, her ear practically pressed to his mouth. "He’s not breathing and he’s lost a lot of blood. I’m sorry, but did he even have a pulse when you got here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said immediately.

“Steve–”

“Just go! Please, Nance.”

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed when Robin finally came back, and if Dustin had put up a fuss at being made to leave, he hadn’t heard any of it. His entire focus narrowed down to his hands on Eddie’s chest, pumping, his eyes locked on Eddie’s face as he counted to thirty, the taste of blood on his lips as he administered rescue breaths. 

Lather, rinse, repeat… 

“The ambulance is five minutes out, how do you want to do this?”

He could have kissed her in that moment—in the most sisterly way of course. 

She didn’t waste any time questioning if they should be doing this, or if Eddie’s condition had improved. Accepting that Steve had made up his mind and she was going to do everything in her power to help him make it happen. 

The thing was, Steve had felt a faint tap against his fingers the last time he’d checked, and he was 99% sure Eddie did have a pulse now, even if he hadn’t before, and it could have been his imagination but he could have sworn he heard the other boy take a few shallow breaths on his own too.

Together, he and Robin hauled over a piece of discarded corrugated metal, moving Eddie onto it as gently as possible, using it like a stretcher to carry him back to the trailer. 

Getting him through the gate was a bit trickier. Even more-so with the rope being cut, but Robin and Nancy had shoved a bunch of furniture under the hole in the ceiling, and Steve somehow managed to climb up the precarious tower one-handed while balancing their unconscious friend on his back.

When they made it to the other side, Steve carried Eddie in his arms all the way to the ambulance doors, insisting on riding along with them to the hospital. He must have been a sight, sweaty and out of breath, covered head to toe in muck and the other boy’s blood. The EMTs didn't even argue, except to insist Dustin come along too once they noticed his limp. 

Robin and Nancy followed behind in the RV, promising to pick up the others on their way so everyone could regroup at the hospital.

Things changed drastically once they arrived at Hawkins General, and the staff realized just who their patient was. Thankfully the paramedic in the ambulance had managed to stabilize Eddie before he was recognized. Steve shuddered to think about what might have happened otherwise.

Though unconscious and in critical condition, Eddie was treated like the dangerous criminal the whole town thought he was—handcuffed to his hospital bed, and an officer posted up at his door. 

No visitors allowed. 

Once Dustin was released, ankle wrapped and with orders to take it easy for a few weeks, their group was asked in no uncertain terms to leave. Told that no updates would be given on the suspect's condition.

Suspect. 

Steve wanted to throw up, but at least Eddie was alive. 

Chapter 2

Thanks and love to @penny00dreadful and @pearynice for all your help and encouragement with this.

Permanent taglist(open): @penny00dreadful @pearynice @hitlikehammers @bookworm0690 @wonderland-girl143-blog 

@goodolefashionedloverboi @themagicalari @awkwardgravity1 @rocknrollsalad

P.S. Taglist friends, I know this one might not be for everyone, if you'd prefer I not tag you in this fic pls let me know, I totally understand 💜

[afyrian]

ch. 11 - may 1 masterlist

    the sun starts to drop in the sky, trees swaying in the wind as you make your way through the park. crickets start to harmonize as lightning bugs light up between the lamp posts. everything has built up to the perfect opportunity for you to tell rintarō about your feelings. the amazing dinner and then stopping for ice cream.. it's all cultivating into what you had hoped.

  "rin- it's been nice just spending the day with you. especially because we haven't had much of a chance to lately, with everything going on," you mix up your ice cream with your spoon, unable to make prolonged eye contact.

  he turns to look at you, the lights illuminating his eyes. the way he does makes your stomach churn as the words get stuck in your throat. "yeah, it's been a little exhausting not being able to just hang out with you," rin bumps your shoulder a little as he walks beside you.

  'hang out'? your mind wanders aimlessly as you typically think of those words in a platonic sense. you'd hang out with hitoka or kiyoko, but you don't necessarily just want to hang out with the man that changed your life. hearing the words leave his lips so effortlessly sends you stumbling over your own words, abandoning your initial plans, "right- yeah. yeah, i love 'hanging out' with you."

  he looks over at you, furrowing his eyebrows at your odd inflection. even if you don't believe him to be able to, rin's always able to tell when something is throwing you off. the eye avoidance, legs staggering a few feet away from him. it's one of the things he's proud of when it comes to his relationship with you, his ability to know you. 

  "what's up with you lately? the past month you’ve been acting weird, which i’m really hoping isn’t about the broken foot thing-”

  you look back at him, ice cream slowly melting with your sanity. of course something’s weird, you’re hopelessly in love with him and you don’t know what to do, “acting weird? no no, we’ve just been so busy and everything’s been happening. i’m just a bit stressed.”

  colors fill the sky, darkening as nightfall begins. his eyes narrow at your response, lips pursed. “a bit stressed? i’m always here to help you, you do know that right? i’d do anything for you, y/n,” rin takes a step towards you, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other resting on your elbow.

  “thanks rin, i- think i love…” you stare up at him, the word ‘you’ on the tip of your tongue, “yogurt. i love frozen yogurt and ice cream! so thank you for this fabulous evening because it was delicious.”

  you bite your lip, turning around so that you can toss the bowl into a nearby trash can. heart beating so quickly, you stare up at the stars. looking at the constellations and the far off planets that you can’t quite make out. it’s easier than facing him. looking him in the eyes and telling him what’s been stuck in your throat since the beginning of the evening. 

  and maybe he can tell. he knows you, maybe even a little better than you know yourself. quickly, rintarō’s hand snakes through yours. neither of you typically do anything like that, especially not in their elder years. however, it’s what you need right now, to feel his thumb on the back of his hand, “you know what? i’m not going to play around this anymore, waiting to see if you feel the same way.”

  his hand helps spin you around to look at him, fingers intertwined with yours. it’s finally happening, you think to yourself, this is the time in which your life will change indefinitely.

  “i like you. a lot.”

  rintarō’s typically succinct in his approaches. however, finally hearing him utter those words sends goosebumps down your arms. “oh my god rin, i like.. like you,” you stare up at him, lips slightly parted in surprise, “god that sounds so stupid.”

  “it really isn’t,” his hand reaches up to your cheek, thumb resting over your cheekbone as he leans down to kiss you.

  his lips are soft for the most part, a little chapped and rugged in some spots. you’ve always known that he tends to lean on the dehydrated side, but now you can feel it. feel his finger on your jawline. his free hand reaching out to grab at your waist and pull you closer to him. rin’s foot bumping into yours as you try to get as close to him as you can.

  “i.. am so happy.. you said something,” you whisper into his lips, reaching your hand into his hair and resting it against his freshly cut style. 

  “i am too,” he leans back, staring at you with an intensity that you’ve never quite seen before, “i don’t think i could’ve gone another month without saying something. especially when we’re married.”

  you smile at the reminder that you’re married. that even though it’s just a piece of paper that gets lost in the system of the law, you’re married. and you’re married to the most amazing man that you’ve ever met. who, despite being your closest friend for the past twenty years, was willing to risk it all just to have you and you to have him.

  “right, we are. and i’d love nothing more than to stay that way with you, forever,” you lean up, connecting his lips with yours once more.

  he takes a moment to breath you in and feel your hand reaching for his neck. the tenderness of the moment making him nearly forget what the two of you were saying, your lips quickly becoming the only thing on his mind, “yes, i never want to let you go. especially when you’re the only one i’ve ever loved.”

a/n: second to last chapter done!! so happy to get to this point and i hope you enjoyed

[florexyy]

𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐬, 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞 / 𝐍𝐢-𝐊𝐢

𝟏𝟏. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝

Genre: Enemies to lovers, a bit of smau Pairing: ni-ki x fem!reader WC: 3.5K Warnings(TBU!): profanity, slow burnish, y/n & riki have an attitude problem, might contain bad grammar and may be illogical sometimes. Taglist౨ৎ: @yunjica @flockskiii (Open<3)

a/n: Hi guys! Since ive been gone for some time i decided to feed you with a longer chapter this time! also more interactions between riki and y/n hope youll like the little change in the atmosphere between them hehe<3

                                                  ༻꧁✬꧂༺

⇝16.09.22⇜ ♫ 𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠...Tamed-Dashed

Day 1

Y/N shouldve said no.

The second Nao-mi mentioned "vacation" she shouldve backed out with some made up excuse. Sick grandmother. Last minute family thing. Alien abduction.

Anything but this.

Because now, stuck in the backseat with Riki sitting next to her, legs brushing way too often for comfort, she was wondering if shed ever be able to breathe normally again.

He hadnt said a word since they left the city. Just scrolled through his phone, earbuds in, pretending she didnt exist.

Perfect. Just how she liked it.

Except not really. Because ever since that one stupid night when someone posted a blurry photo of them outside heeseungs house, him helping her walk, faces too close, tension too sharp, its still on her mind and apparently on everyone elses too.

Gross.

They werent dating. They werent even friends.

But now everyone treated them like they were. Teased them. Whispered about them in the halls. Even their teachers raised eyebrows. Nothing new at that point.

So they agreed on one thing: distance. Avoid each other. Pretend the other did't exist, like they had talked about on the rooftop that one day.

Until now.

"Okay!" Nao-mi chirped from the front seat, full of vacation energy and unaware doom. "ETA: thirty minutes! We will set up the tents before sunset."

"Tents?" Y/N asked, eyeing her through the mirror. "As in plural?"

"Yeah," Nao-mi said. "One for me and Minji, one for you and Riki and the other one for Mom and Dad obviously."

Y/N choked. "What?!"

"I brought four, but the zipper on the fourth one is busted. You guys dont mind, right?"

Y/N turned to Riki. He pulled out one earbud, raised an eyebrow like 'this is your problem, not mine,' and went back to ignoring her.

Great.

The car doors slammed shut one after the other, echoing in the salty air. Y/N stepped out and immediately squinted against the glare bouncing off the ocean in the distance. The breeze was cold, even with the sun out, and it carried the faint scent of seaweed and pine.

"Okay!" Their mom clapped her hands as she stepped out of the drivers side. "Lets unload fast before the wind starts throwing everything down the cliff."

Y/N grabbed her backpack and a folded up camping chair, then turned around and almost ran into Riki.

He didnt move. Just stood there like a stone in her way, sunglasses on, chewing a piece of gum like he was in a music video.

"Move, idiot" she demanded.

He stared at her for a second too long, then slowly stepped aside. "Then go you dumbass" he said flatly.

She rolled her eyes and walked past him, muttering, "Try not being a dick for once."

He didnt respond. She didnt need him to. His entire existence was irritating enough.

The campsite was set in a dip between tall trees, with a rocky path leading to the beach. The parents had brought way too much gear tables, folding chairs, coolers, a grill, even lanterns with color settings.

Y/N started helping Nao-mi set up the tents. Riki, meanwhile, walked straight over to the firewood pile and sat on top of it, scrolling through his phone.

"Must be exhausting being that useless" Y/N said loud enough for him to hear.

"Sorry, couldnt hear you over the sound of me minding my business" he said without looking up.

"Guys" Nao-mi cut in, already exasperated. "Dont even start. Its only the first hour."

They didnt start. Not out loud.

But later, as Y/N carried the tent poles over to the clearing, she stepped forward and her foot caught something hard and deliberate.

She tripped.

Not a full fall, but enough to stumble and almost drop everything.

Riki, sitting just off to the side, didnt even bother hiding the satisfied twitch of his mouth. "Oops."

Y/N turned slowly, set the poles down like she was trying not to snap them in half. "Are you serious?"

"What?" he said. "I was just sitting here."

"You stuck your foot out."

"No proof." He shrugged.

Nao-mi sighed from across the clearing. "I swear to god, if you guys make me referee this trip, Im sleeping in the car."

After Lunch they walked down the path to the beach, shoes crunching over sand and crushed shells. The air was cooler near the water. Y/N zipped her jacket up to her chin and stuck her hands in her pockets. She tried to stay near Nao-mi, but Riki kept appearing near her peripheral like a bad TV rerun.

Down at the shore, Nao-mi and Minji started throwing rocks into the water. Y/N found a flat boulder and sat down to watch.

Then water splashed up, soaking her left side.

She froze. The cold hit her like a slap.

She turned. Riki stood nearby with wet hands and an innocent look that fooled no one.

"You-"

He held up both arms. "Didnt even touch you."

"You kicked water at me."

"Can you prove it?"

"Youre so immature."

"Stop crying."

She looked down at her pants. They clung to her leg now, freezing and damp. "Im going to throw you in."

"Id like to see you try."

"I will. In your sleep."

"Better make it quick. I sleep with one eye open."

Nao-mi was twenty feet away, clearly pretending not to hear them.

Y/N grabbed a towel from the supply bag and stormed back toward camp.

By dinner, the wind had picked up and the fire was blazing. Everyone gathered around with mismatched plates full of grilled meat and steamed rice wrapped in foil.

Y/N sat wrapped in a blanket, still annoyed about the water incident and now freezing despite being dry.

Riki sat across the fire from her, chewing like he had no soul behind his eyes.

Nao-mi nudged her under the blanket. "You know he only does it because you react."

"Thats not true," Y/N muttered. "He does it because hes annoying and childish."

"Okay, but you give him a reaction."

"I literally didnt do anything. I was sitting."

Nao-mi gave her a look. "You exist loudly."

Y/N threw a rice cracker at her and missed.

That night, after everyone went to bed, Y/N laid in the tent she was stuck sharing with Riki because one of the other zippers was broken and his mom had said, "Youre older. Youll manage."

She faced the opposite side, back to him, jaw clenched.

He hadnt said anything. No gloating. No teasing. Just climbed into the sleeping bag on the other side and turned away too.

Silence stretched between them, interrupted only by the wind outside and the distant waves.

She waited for a comment.

It never came.

Day 2 

The seagulls were screaming again and Y/N had barely gotten five hours of sleep. The tent had been freezing, and Rikis snoring had been loud enough to make her question whether he did it on purpose.

She got up stiffly, shoved on a hoodie, and tried not to look in his direction.

He was already gone.

After a rushed breakfast of instant noodles and boiled eggs, Nao-mi clapped her hands together. "Alright! Activity time!"

Y/N groaned. "Cant we just sit and rot for a bit?"

"Nope." Nao-mi beamed. "We are going canoeing."

Y/N blinked. "What."

Nao-mi grinned. "We reserved spots at that river cove. Its calm water. Family safe. Barely any current."

"Still water," Nao-mi added. "You cant even drown unless you try."

Y/N was already regretting everything.

They drove fifteen minutes to a small cove tucked behind a line of pine trees. The water was still and glossy, reflecting the sky like a mirror. A row of brightly colored canoes sat tied to a small dock, and a sunburned guy in a bucket hat gave everyone a five minute safety talk none of them really listened to.

"Pairs" Nao-mi said, grabbing paddles. "Me and Minji, cuz i have to babysit her. Mom and Dad. That leaves..."

Y/N froze. "No."

"Come on" Nao-mi said, already dragging a canoe to the water. "You and Riki are the lightest. Balance."

"Id rather swim back to camp."

"You might, the way you paddle."

Y/N turned and found Riki already standing next to her with a life jacket halfway on.

"Try not to slow me down" he said.

She yanked her straps tighter. "Try not to drown."

At first, it wasnt that bad.

The canoe wobbled as they pushed off, but they managed to stay upright. The cove was quiet except for the sound of water lapping against the boats. The air smelled like moss and wood.

Nao-mi and Minji were already ten feet ahead, paddling in perfect sync like they practiced for this, even tho Nao-mi did most of the work..

Y/N and Riki?

Not so much.

"Youre leaning too much left" he said.

"No, Im paddling."

"Youre paddling wrong."

"How does someone paddle wrong?"

"Youre splashing more than youre moving."

Y/N clenched her teeth. "Then do it yourself, king of the boats."

"Oh my god." He stopped paddling completely. "Just. Copy. My. Rhythm."

She started paddling deliberately out of sync, on purpose.

The canoe veered sharply to the right, almost colliding with a low branch.

Riki turned halfway around. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Honestly?" Y/N said, digging her paddle into the water. "If this thing flips, Im blaming you."

"Great. Then you wont mind if I-"

His paddle jabbed a little too far on the left.

The canoe tilted.

They both tried to correct it at the same time - she shifted right, he shifted left.

Bad call.

The canoe flipped.

Water surged in.

And in half a second, both of them were underwater. 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Y/N came up coughing, barely able to hold herself up, water in her nose, her life jacket was deflating.

Fuck.

She cant swim.

Y/N hit the water hard. Cold rushed into her ears and mouth at once. Her lungs clenched. The life jacket shouldve helped. It was supposed to help. But the panic had already taken hold before she surfaced.

When she came up, gasping, her head barely broke through the surface. Water rushed into her nose and down her throat, stinging deep.

Her arms flailed, too wild, too heavy. The jacket bobbed her up, but not enough. Not steady. Every breath she tried to take came with a mouthful of river. Her legs kicked uselessly beneath her, but she couldnt feel the bottom. Couldnt find air fast enough.

The world above was noise shouts, splashing, someone calling her name but it felt distant. Muffled. All she could hear was the rush of her own blood pounding and the thundering thought: I cant breathe.

She tipped sideways in the water, coughing hard. Her arms couldnt stay above her head anymore. The current pulled just enough to throw off her balance, tugging her under again for a second too long.

Thats when she panicked.

She jolted her head back, gasping, eyes wide.

"Y/N?" someone yelled. Closer this time.

Her name again. Louder.

A hand grabbed her shoulder.

It was Riki

"Stop moving" he said quickly. "Youre pulling yourself under."

She didnt answer. Just choked on another gasp.

"Hey- hey, look at me."

She did.

"Youre not going under, okay? Ive got you."

One of his arms hooked under her armpits from behind, steadying her. He shifted, holding her up with the awkward, clumsy strength.

"You good?" he asked, quieter now.

She nodded once, teeth clenched, breath shallow.

His voice dropped again. "You shouldve told someone you couldnt swim."

She closed her eyes. "Didnt think youd actually make us fall in!"

He pushed wet hair out of his face and pointed. "You leaned!"

"You pushed!"

"You yanked the canoe like you were trying to capsize it!"

"Oh, so now Im stronger than physics?"

Behind them, Nao-mi and Minji had turned their canoe around and were howling with laughter. their parents were paddling closer, trying very hard not to laugh. They didnt see what had happened just now.

Their dad just shouted from the shoreline, "Are you guys okay what happened?"

They clung to opposite ends of the canoe, glaring over the hull.

"Remind me to never be alone in a boat with you again," she said.

"Gladly. Next time, bring a helmet."

"Next time, bring a second brain cell."

"Ha. Hilarious."

This trip was only getting worse.

Day 3 

By day three, Y/N had finally dried out  physically, not emotionally.

The canoe incident still sat heavy in her memory. Not just the fear, but the weird way Riki had actually helped her. Like, no jokes. No smirking. Just pulled her up and made sure she didnt sink like a rock. Then pretended none of it happened.

Which would've been fine.. except now it was awkward. He hadn't mentioned it. She hadnt either. They just avoided eye contact and continued their mutual existence as two halves of a very dysfunctional coin.

So when Nao-mi said, "We are doing a picnic near the meadow," Y/N jumped at the idea of any distraction.

The meadow sat just beyond the campgrounds, past a short walk through pine trees. It opened up into a wide clearing with tall grass, scattered wildflowers, and the occasional bug that wanted to ruin your life. The wind was softer here. The kind that made everything feel like a lazy afternoon painting.

Rikis mom had laid out a giant blanket. Everyone else unpacked snacks, drinks, and the prize: a round chocolate cake in a clear plastic box.

"We found it at that tiny store near the road," Minji said, practically bouncing. "The one that smelled like cat food and lavender? Its homemade."

"Looks good" Y/N said, kneeling by the box. "Please tell me this isnt carrot cake disguised as chocolate."

"Its real," Nao-mi promised. "We already sampled a piece."

Y/N took her slice with the corner piece  the one with extra whipped cream on top  and settled on the edge of the blanket, finally feeling halfway normal.

Until he sat next to her.

Riki. Plate in one hand, fork in the other, wearing a smug look like he was planning something.

Y/N didnt say anything. Just scooted exactly two inches away.

He noticed. Of course.

"You always act like sitting near me is gonna infect you," he said.

"Im just being cautious," she said without looking. "Youve got toxic behavior."

He didnt respond immediately. Then, out of nowhere, she caught movement from the side of her vision.

He dipped his finger into the whipped cream on his plate.

"Oh no" she said instantly. "Dont even-"

Too late.

He reached over and smeared it straight across her cheek. Not a little dab. A full swipe. Whipped cream right under her eye and across her jaw.

The entire picnic paused.

Y/N froze.

Riki leaned back like he'd just dropped a masterpiece. "You had a smudge."

"Youre dead."

She stood up, cake plate still in hand.

"No violence at the picnic" their mom called from the other blanket.

Y/N didnt care. She looked down at her slice  then up at Riki  then down again.

And launched it.

The cake hit him square in the face. A direct, full contact splat. Whipped cream, frosting, crumbs  everywhere.

Gasps. Shrieks. Laughter.

He sat there, stunned, blinking cake out of his eyelashes.

Y/N crossed her arms. "Oh no, you had a smudge."

Riki wiped frosting from his nose. "You just started a war."

"Ill finish it too."

Everyone else lost it  some cheering, some groaning, and Nao-mi already grabbing her phone. "This is gold. Do it again!"

Riki wiped his hands on a napkin, stood up slowly, and started scanning the dessert table.

"Dont" Y/N warned. "You dont want this"

"Oh I do."

Nao-mi, mouth full of chips, yelled, "Okay but dont waste all the cake, we paid for that-"

Too late.

Riki grabbed a leftover cupcake. Y/N grabbed a half-empty whipped cream can.

And all hell broke loose.

By the time they got back to camp, the sun had started to dip behind the tree line. Everything was golden  warm light catching on leaves, long shadows stretching across the tents  but none of that made up for the fact that Y/N still had dried whipped cream in her ear.

"Go rinse off at the pump," Rikis mom said, not even looking up as she unpacked leftover snacks. "Both of you. Now"

"Do not drag dirt inside the tents" Nao-mi added. "If I find frosting on my sleeping bag, I swear-"

"We got it" Y/N mumbled.

She trudged off toward the little outdoor faucet near the side of camp, hearing Rikis steps behind her like an annoying echo.

The pump had one old metal sink and a bucket underneath it. She turned the handle and ice cold water blasted out with a screech.

She stuck her head under it with a wince.

"Dont drown again," Riki said behind her.

She didnt respond. Just shook the water out like a soaked dog, whipping droplets in his direction.

He flinched. "Seriously?"

"You started it."

"You threw cake in my face."

"You finger painted on mine."

He opened his mouth, probably to say something dumb, but stopped. Instead, he dipped his hands into the bucket and started rinsing off the crusted frosting down his neck.

They stood there in silence for a moment. Just the trickle of water, distant laughter from the rest of the family, and the awkward realization that maybe they went too far today.

Y/N looked over.

Rikis cheeks were pink from scrubbing. His hoodie was splattered with frosting. His hair was sticking up weird in the back.

She almost laughed.

Almost.

"Youre a mess," she muttered.

He glanced over. "So are you."

Day 4 

The last day came slower than the others.

No alarms. No yelling. Just the low hum of waves rolling onto the shore and the soft rustle of wind through tent flaps.

Y/N woke up to golden light filtering through canvas. She stayed in her sleeping bag longer than usual, not because she was tired  just because everything felt.. calm.

For once.

No water fights. No whipped cream sneak attacks. No nearly drowning. Just sun and quiet.

Later on they set up on the beach with towels, coolers, and foldable chairs. The parents napped with sunglasses on. Nao-mi and Minji sprawled out near the rocks, taking selfies and having their big and little sister moment.

Y/N sat cross legged in the sand, drawing lazy lines with a stick, watching the waves creep up the shore and pull back again. Her hoodie was tied around her waist. The breeze smelled clean, like salt and driftwood.

She didn't even notice Riki had sat next to her until he nudged her foot.

She looked over. "What."

He didn't look at her. Just stared at the water. "We didnt fight today."

"Yet."

"You planning something?"

She shrugged. "You usually give me a reason."

He smirked a little. "Im pacing myself."

They sat in silence for a minute.

A few gulls cawed overhead. Someone cracked open a can behind them. Nao-mi was shouting something about sunscreen.

Y/N poked at the sand again, not really sure why she felt so restless. Or why she couldnt stop glancing sideways at him.

After a moment, Riki leaned back on his elbows and said, "You know, about the water thing."

She tensed slightly, swallowing tighly.

"I wasnt gonna let you sink" he added, still looking out at the ocean. "Just so you know."

Y/N exhaled slowly. "I know."

Silence again.

"Why didnt you say something? About not swimming."

She picked at the edge of her sneaker. "Because its embarrassing?"

He didnt answer right away. Just nodded once.

"It wasnt."

She blinked.

"Embarrassing" he clarified, still not looking at her. "It wasnt."

Her throat felt tight for a second. Not emotional. Just.. surprised.

"I didnt say thank you," she muttered.

He shrugged. "Didnt expect you to."

"Well. Thanks."

He looked at her then, just briefly. "Dont get soft on me now."

"Please. Id still throw a cupcake at you."

He smiled. It wasnt smug this time. Just tired. Genuine.

The kind of smile you give someone when youre not trying to win.

Y/N looked away first.

But her mouth twitched.

                                                          ༻꧁✬꧂༺

The campsite looked different when it was being taken apart.

Where there had been life shoes scattered, chairs knocked over, coolers cracked open  there was now quiet organization. Tents collapsed into bags. Trash tied up. The fire pit filled with sand. The kind of silence that happens when something ends and everyone knows it, but no one says it.

Y/N zipped up her hoodie and stood there for a moment, staring at the flattened grass where her tent had been. Her hoodie smelled like smoke. Her hair was a little tangled from the cooling wind.

It felt like theyd been here for weeks. Not four days.

Someone honked. The trunks were already being loaded. Nao-mi was chasing a missing sandal, shouting about how the forest "ate it."

Y/N started toward the car, lugging her bag with both hands, when Riki passed her.

He didnt say anything. Just reached out, took the bag from her shoulder, and tossed it in the back like it weighed nothing.

She blinked. "Okay. Thanks, I guess." She raised a brow.

He didnt look at her. "Consider it repayment for the cake you wasted."

"You deserved it."

"Still hurts."

She smirked a little. "Good."

                                                          ༻꧁✬꧂༺

The car rumbled steadily down the highway. Mountains gave way to scattered suburbs. The beach was far behind them now, just a memory fading into the rearview mirror.

In the backseat, Riki had leaned against the window, hood up, one leg crossed over the other like he owned the entire row. Y/N had her earbuds in but wasnt playing anything. Just letting the silence between them stretch.

It wasnt awkward, tho.

She glanced at him. His hand was resting close, too close, on the seat between them.

She nudged it with her knuckle.

He didnt look at her. Just flexed his fingers like it was nothing. Then flicked her hand lightly.

She pulled it back and gave him a look.

"Still mad about the cake?" he said quietly, eyes on the ceiling.

"Youre really bringing this up again?" She scoffed.

"Obviously." He shrugged.

"You got what you deserved."

He cracked a lazy smile. "I admit, it was good aim though."

"I threw it at your head. Of course it was good." She said proudly.

Silence again.

"Youre not as awful as I thought" she said, almost like she hadnt meant to say it out loud, instantly regretting it.

Riki blinked. Turned his head a little toward her. "Youre not as annoying as I know you are."

She laughed slightly.

Outside, trees blurred past. The car dipped over a hill, Y/N turned to look outside.

The sunset was beautiful today.

She thought this trip was not worth it when they first arrived, but now, she actually kinda liked it.

Or maybe even enjoyed it.

Who knows.

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