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aethelwyneleigh27 · 2 months

Text

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

Photo

Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ [5]

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song

Summary: Drowning in women and designer drugs, Bucky Barnes of Valkyrie’s Revenge is in a race to rock bottom. Fed up, his bandmates give him an ultimatum—straighten up, or fuck off. In a last, desperate bid to maintain his place, he agrees to return to the one place he swore he’d never set foot again—home.

Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Depression, Suicidal ideation, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]

A/N: whew. this chapter… i tried to warn you guys, i really did. buckle up!! as always, i recommend you listen to the chapter song while reading, or alternatively, listen to the fic playlist! thank you so much for reading! divider by @firefly-graphics

series playlist || chapter song

This work is entirely unbeta’d, and unedited. Though I don’t own any of Marvel’s characters, this work and the plot contained inside are entirely mine. I do not consent for this work to be posted anywhere else by anyone but me. Enjoy 😘

It’s Iris’ shaking that wakes you, her little hands jerking your shoulder back and forth as you blearily open your eyes to the almost total darkness.

“Mommy, mommy there’s somebody at the door,” she says, her voice nervous. You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. It takes you a moment to process what she’s said, and you listen for a few seconds, but hear only the quiet sounds of the house settling, dripping faucets, branches scratching against the plastic siding.

“Wha?” You shake your head. “No, baby, it’s bedtime, nobody comes around this late—” You’re interrupted by a fierce round of knocks—some of them so loud, you’re fairly certain the person responsible is kicking your door. It only takes a moment for you to go from sleepy to high-alert, your eyes flicking between your daughter and your bedroom door.

“See?” She whimpers, clamoring onto the bed and clutching at you. You detangle yourself from your anxious daughter, and reach under the bed for the baseball bat you keep there—just in case. Even though your heart is pounding, you know you can’t show her how scared you are—Iris is only as calm as you are.

“Kiddo, you’re going to stay right here in mommy’s room, okay? I’m going to go downstairs and see who’s at the door.” You softly close the door behind you, jumping as the doorbell rings just before the knocks resume. With sweaty hands, you grip the worn handle of your father’s bat, and edge down the stairs towards the door. You hear a loud crack, like wood splintering outside the door, and then—your name?

“Open the do-hic-ooor,” Bucky moans, and through the thick frosted glass you see him rest his forehead against the little window at the top of the door. You fumble with the chain, the bat clattering as it hits the floor. You turn the handle, and Bucky practically falls inside. He stumbles over the threshold, and you scramble to catch him so that he doesn’t clip his head on the end table. He rests heavily on you, his head lolling.

“Bucky?!” You hiss his name. “What—what are you doing?” He attempts to stand up, straightening his jacket as he shoves his hands into his pockets. You resist the urge to slam the door as he shoulders past you—you don’t need Iris more riled up than she already is. “Are you fucking crazy?”

He staggers against the wall. “I n-needed t’see you.” His watery smile is barely even that, a slight upturn at the corners of his trembling mouth before he drags the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead. “Wan’ to see you,” he repeats, slurring.

“Bucky it’s fucking two a.m.” You throw your hands up. “It’s fucking two a.m. and you are scaring my fucking kid!” You’re tempted to hit him, to slap some fucking sense into him because clearly he doesn’t have any right now. Your hand twitches at your side as you tamp the urge back down.

“My fucking kid,” he retorts, and you feel a portion of your righteous anger break off and crumble into guilt. “Isn’t s-she?” He shakes his head like he’s trying to clear it. He glares at you with lidded, red-rimmed eyes. You want to say no, you know you should, for the sake of your peace, your daughter’s peace, to uphold the promise you’d made to your parents, to yourself.

But you can’t. It won’t come. You’re floundering watching his face contort into some unnameable expression. You don’t know how he’s figured it out, how his addled brain has finally put the pieces together.

“I w-wanna see her.” He slurs, and tries to step around you. You block him, shoving him backwards.

“You’re high out of your fucking mind Bucky! I don’t even want you in my fucking house!” You shrill. “Where’s Steve?” Bucky hunches his shoulders defensively. His glassy eyes roll as he tries to deny what you can plainly see.

“‘M’not high,” he mumbles. “I—”

“Bucky you can’t even speak!” You yell, and then wince, hoping Iris isn’t listening at the top of the stairs. “You show up here at the most ungodly fucking hour, demanding to see Iris— “ You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Bucky you fucking terrified her, okay? You—I’m going to call Steve.” Your exasperated words make him flinch. He tries to stop you as you reach for your phone, but his movements are heavy and slow.

“That lying piece of shit. Don’t—” He reaches for you, and you slap his hand away, your heart pounding.

“Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do in my house.”

“I’ll l-leave. If you call him.” He threatens, his voice hard. His pupils are dilated wide, his eyes wet, but you can tell he means it. You know you shouldn’t feel responsible for Bucky, not now, not ever again, but it doesn’t stop you from feeling it anyway. You scrub a frustrated hand over your face, tangling your fingers in your hair before you squeeze your eyes shut, regretting the decision before it even comes out of your mouth.

“Okay, fine,” you relent, holding your hands up. “No Steve. But you can’t see Iris like this.” Bucky looks rough. You know he’s been out partying, doing only God knows what—his eyes are red-rimmed and watery, his nose red and irritated. He looks like he’s going to argue with you, but after a moment snaps his mouth shut angrily.

“Fine.”

“You can sleep on the couch.” You say stiffly. “I’m going to go get you a blanket. Stay down here.” The words are curt, short as though you’ve bitten off their edges. He opens his mouth, and you’re not sure you want to hear what’s going to come out of it next, so you turn away, and march directly up the stairs. You wait at the top to hear the tell-tale creak of the first stair, but it doesn’t come.

For a few seconds, you pace on the landing, hands balled into fists and pressed against your closed eyes. Bucky is here. He knows. He knows. He knows. You can’t stop the endless refrain inside your own skull, panicked tears tightening your throat as you try to swallow against them.

Calm down. Iris can’t see you like this.

You take slow, hiccoughing breaths, swallowing back the tears and anger until they’re gathered into a tight, hot ball in your chest. Forcing it down, you head for your bedroom.

Your door is cracked open, and Iris peers at you guiltily through the gap. You almost want to laugh as she jumps backwards, hopping nervously from foot to foot as you cross your arms.

“I thought you were supposed to be in bed,” you say, raising an eyebrow. Iris scuffs her foot guiltily against the floor.

“I, um, I heard Mr. Bucky,” she admits, and you have to stop yourself from smacking a frustrated palm against your forehead. “Why is he here, Mommy?”

You’ve never felt more like shit than in this moment—you can’t tell her. Not like this.

“He’s… he’s not feeling well, babes. He’s going to rest downstairs, on the couch.”

Iris looks at you excitedly. “So he’ll be here for breakfast?!”

“No.” You say quickly, and her round eyes go glassy. “He has somewhere to be tomorrow morning, so he’ll be gone when we get up for school.” You’re not sure if you’re saying this for her benefit, or yours. “Into bed.” You say, patting the mattress. “You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

Bucky is standing in front of the fireplace in your living room. It doesn’t work, but the hearth serves as a display wall of sorts. Framed pictures of Iris, photos of you two together, your parents, your life. There’s a sort of sad bemusement on his face, like he can’t believe your life went on without him. That you had lived without him. You watch as he reaches forward to trace Iris’ face through the glass, and wonder if he’s looking for the parts of her that reflect him.

You clear your throat and he turns, guiltily shoving his hands into his pockets. The silence is so heavy between you, you aren’t sure if you can carry it. Luckily for you, Bucky breaks it first.

“I dunno how I didn’t see it the first time,” he says with a sad, hoarse little laugh. “She looks just fuckin’ like me.” You’re not sure what you hate more. The fact that he said it, or the fact that it was true. “Kid’s wearing my goddamn face and it took me a month to notice it.” He turns like he’s going to grab a picture off of the shelf but misjudges the distance, and stumbles against the wall with a thud.

“Jesus, Buck!” You rush over to him to stop him falling. Grunting, you loop one of his arms over your shoulders. He goes with you easily, mumbling something you don’t understand as you half drag him towards the couch. “You need to lay the fuck down.” You growl, sloughing him onto the cushions. He lands with a soft “oof”, and begins kicking at his boots.

“Hold on—christ— I’ll help you.” You tug his boots off and toss them to the floor as he curls in on himself.

You’re not sure how a man his size can look so small, so fragile, but he does. The angry, bitter part of you wants to throw the blanket and pillow on the floor in a heap, but you don’t. You spread it out over his sleeping form and he mumbles, twitching. Carefully, you reach to tuck the pillow under his head, and pause as your fingers brush his cheek. You let them linger for a moment before pulling your hand back quickly, and cradling it against your chest.

You turn sharply and head back for the staircase.

“Goodnight. Jellybean.”

His voice stops you in your tracks, the raspy word making your throat tight.

He won’t remember it in the morning.

You go upstairs.

Iris is asleep in your bed when you open the door. Sleep finds her easily, and you’re glad for it. It means she feels safe, something you don’t want to jeopardize with the man sleeping it off on your couch downstairs.

You suppose you had been lucky, not having to see him like Steve did, strung out and barely coherent. If you can help it, Iris will be spared that sight forever. Fists clenched determinedly in the duvet, you stare at the ceiling, waiting for—you don’t know what you’re waiting for. The doorknob to jiggle, for sounds of destruction to arise from downstairs, the sound of his voice, for sleep—for anything.

And then, finally, you sleep.

🎤

This isn’t Steve’s house.

Bucky stares up at the unfamiliar ceiling, counting the minutes until the memories begin to trickle back into his skull. He remembers scoring—easier now than it ever was, considering. Every bar-back knows a guy who knows a guy who can get him what he wants, all he has to do is ask.

And boy did he fucking ask.

He remembers the disembodied rolling bliss, remembers you, your disappointed face. Bucky groans, sitting up. The blanket falls to his lap, and he furrows his brows, picking up the edge. He knows what Kitty will say when he comes to meeting today. It’s a small town and word travels fast. Bucky knows he wasn’t exactly discreet. He’s used to it by now, the well of disgust and shame that begins to grow in his stomach the more he recalls.

It was inevitable, the demon whispers, and Bucky wonders fearfully if it’s right.

I shouldn’t have come here, he thinks to himself as he looks around. His head is still cottony with the pill-hangover, but he knows enough to know he’s an invader here. Why did he even come? The pitiful confrontation he’d forced had gone nowhere, ending with him passed out on your sofa. Bucky rubs his temples.

The whole house smells like caramel apple, your favorite candle. Bucky doesn’t know why he still knows that, but he does. It’s neat enough, but there are signs of life everywhere. Iris’ toys, your books. And in the corner, your guitar. It’s well taken care of, the used Sweetwater you’d managed to get your hands on. He remembered the day you’d found it, rescuing it from the attic of Kevin Harris’ grandmother’s place after she passed.

“Good, you’re up.” Your clipped voice sounds from the doorway. He looks up to see you, still in the oversized shirt you used for pajamas and leaned against the wall. You look tired, and Bucky knows it’s his fault. “How are you feeling?”

He laughs dryly. “Like an asshole.” He’s a wrecking ball. “Is, um. Is Iris…?”

“She’s fine,” you say, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear before you fold your arms across your chest. “She didn’t see you.” He’s thankful for that, at least. “I called Steve. He’s on his way.”

Bucky grimaces. He doesn’t want to see Steve, not after—

“Why did you tell Steve and not me?” He blurts,. “Why did you tell him about Iris?”

“He guessed,” you say defensively. “And even if I had, that’s my business. You made your choices very clear, Bucky.” You glare at him from across the room. He doesn’t know what to say to that—you’re right.

“She’s my daughter.”

“Bucky. I couldn’t—last night? I… How could I let you meet her like that?”

The shame burns in his throat and he swallows tightly against it.

“I know. But I—” The sound of someone at the door makes the both of you jump.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, and disappear down the hall. Bucky stands, folding the blanket you’d given him and placing it neatly on the couch cushions. He hears your footsteps recede, and then the sound of the door lock unlatching. Your voice floats down the hall, quiet but audible.

“Oh—Andy.”

And then a distinctly male voice. “I wanted to stop by, maybe help with drop-off today? I figured we could get breakfast together after.”

“I, um. You know what, Andy? Now is just really not a good time—”

“Is that your bat? Did something happen last night?” He sounds concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes everything’s fine, no—wait, Andy I said it’s not a good time—”

Bucky backs away from the archway just as Andy rounds the corner. His shocked face contorts with anger as he whips his head around.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Bucky feels hot anger flare in his chest as he crosses his arms. “Could ask the same of you.” Andy takes a step forward before you grab his arm.

“Would the two of you just fucking stop? Andy I said it’s not a good goddamn time!” Bucky watches you run a frustrated hand through your hair, tugging on it before letting go. He shouldn’t feel so territorial—you aren’t his. That doesn’t stop the sneer from curling his lip as he watches the other man reluctantly stand down.

“What is he doing here?” Andy asks again, and you purse your lips.

“Andrew Barber this is my house. I do not have to explain myself to you.” Andy looks positively murderous at that, but says nothing, crossing his arms as he levels a hard look at Bucky. “He crashed on my couch last night. Happy?”

“No.” Andy replies without taking his eyes off of Bucky. “You should have called me.” There’s a possessiveness in his tone that makes Bucky’s hackles rise. He’s the one with history, it’s Andy who’s the newcomer. What right does he have, to look at Bucky like the interloper? He doesn’t like the way Andy positions himself between you, a hand on the curve of your hip over the t-shirt. It’s familiar in a way that makes Bucky want to bare his teeth in warning.

You let her go, the demon reminds him. You threw her away like trash. He is pleased, though, to see you shove Andy’s hand away as you place your hands on your hips stubbornly.

“I’m an adult, Andy, and I handled it.” You say, your hard glare daring him to challenge you. He doesn’t. “Besides. Bucky was just leaving.” You say it pointedly around Andy’s broad shoulders.

Bucky doesn’t want to leave now, especially not now that Andy is here, but there’s little room for him to argue, not when he sees Steve pull up in the pickup through the living room window.

“Yeah.” He mutters. “Just leaving.” He shoves his hands into his pockets as he heads for the door. You walk him out onto the porch, your arms still crossed over your chest. He looks past you to Andy, who smiles at him smugly.

“Try not to miss your meeting,” he says, and you whip your head around to glare at him, before closing the door behind you.

“Look, ignore Andy. He’s just—”

“An asshole?” Bucky scoffs. “I didn’t think that was your type.” You scowl at him.

“Well, if he’s an asshole then I’m two for two, so it’s definitely my type.” You retort sharply. “Bucky, look. Last night—”

“I fucked up,” he says quickly. He doesn’t want to hear you say it. He doesn’t know why, but for some reason he knows that hearing you tell him he fucking relapsed again would make him hurt worse than the fucking DT’s. “I know I fucked up.”

“You did,” you say, and he winces. That stings, too. Maybe worse. “You had three weeks, Buck. Why’d you throw that away?”

His lip curls. “Finding out you have a kid six years into their life isn’t really awesome news.” He snaps back. “You, Steve, you both lied to me.” He can’t help the accusatory pitch his tone takes. He knows you take note of it too, your eyes narrowing to angry slits.

“Oh bull-fucking-shit, Bucky,” you say, tossing your hands up. “Call after call after call, none of my fucking letters answered.” You shake your head at him. “What was I supposed to do? You shut me out! I wasn’t going to fucking chase you forever!”

“What?” Bucky steps back, reeling. “What are you talking about? I never got one fucking call—”

“I am not doing this with you.” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose as you turn back towards the front door. “I am not going to fucking stand here and argue with you about what I know I did. You don’t get to show up high at my fucking house and demand to be treated like you would have been father of the year if you’d known.”

“Maybe I fucking would have!” He spits, the old venom welling up temptingly under his tongue. He regrets the words before they’re even fully out of his mouth. “If you hadn’t tried to trap me—”

The slap echoes in his ears before he feels the sting of it, raising his own hand to his face where you had hit him.

“Get the fuck out of here.” You spit through gritted teeth. Your eyes are wet with unshed tears, and the angry shame in Bucky’s chest grows until angry tears are pricking at his eyes too. It isn’t for you, his anger. No, it’s for himself—because there’s no one Bucky hates more than the man he sees reflected in your glassy eyes.

“Don’t fucking come back until you’re sober, you understand me?” You shove a finger into his chest. “I would rather tell her you’re dead than let her see you like this.”

You don’t wait for him to answer, instead you yank open the door and shut it in his face, barricading him on the other side. He’s tempted to bang on the door, to kick and punch at it until you’re forced to come back out again because this isn’t fucking over, dammit—

But he doesn’t.

Bucky searches for the half empty carton of cigarettes in his jacket pocket, sticking one between his lips as he gets unceremoniously into the passenger seat of Steve’s pickup.

“Rough night?” He asks as Bucky straps himself in, and grabs for the lighter in the cupholder. He doesn’t answer right away, lighting the cigarette and exhaling a few clouds of acrid smoke as Steve pulls out into traffic.

“Yeah,” he says, tapping the ash out of the open window. He watches the row of brick and mortar houses fade into the distance in the rearview mirror. “Rough.”

🎤

“Iron Man at your service, this is Tony.” Tina had been rather reluctant to patch Bucky through to Tony’s personal line, but after a few choice words—some of them threats—she had done so.

“Tony.”

“Bucky! How are you? How’s it going in Milton?”

“Meridian.”

“Whatever.”

“Fine,” he says, choosing purposefully not to mention his bender just the night before. “Listen, did you uh. Ever get any letters, phone calls, or anything from anybody back home in Meridian?”

“Bucky you get so much fucking fan-mail we could fill an olympic swimming pool with it—not now, baby, I’m on the phone,” he hears Tony stage whisper to someone who giggles. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“When I first signed up. They’d be old.”

“Probably? I mean nothing of note. You know we sort through the mail and give you the important stuff. Anything from your personal contacts, you would have seen. Look is there a point to this? Because I’ve got to tell you, I’ve got some pressing business to attend to, if you catch my meaning.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. Tony has never thought twice about sampling from the buffet of groupies that seemed to tail Valkyrie’s Revenge like lost puppies.

“I need to know if I got letters about a kid, Tony.”

“What?”

“A fucking kid Tony. I need to know if we were contacted—”

“I told you,” he says quickly, his tone dismissive. “If they got sent, you’d have seen ‘em, kid. Why? Somebody springing a paternity suit on us?” He hears Tony hush more people, excusing himself quietly. The background noise coming through the receiver seems to fade until there’s only quiet breathing on the other end.

“No. I mean—I don’t know. I just…” He pauses. You’d seemed so certain, so sure of yourself when you claimed you’d tried to contact him. Call after call… all my letters unanswered. “I want to know.”

“Well I can’t help you, pal,” Tony replies. “We’d have told you if we got them.”

“Yeah. Sure.” Bucky swallows against the lump in his throat.

“Keep me posted. This is why we have lawyers.”

Bucky hangs up without another word, frustratedly tossing his phone to the bed. He’d refused to speak to Steve when he asked him where he went, why he’d been gone all night. It was easy enough to deflect with an argument, a skill Bucky had learned the very first time his bandmates had tried to take him to task for his behavior. No one wants a screaming match at ten in the morning.

He can’t deflect himself, though, can’t stop the thoughts going round and round in his skull like a carousel. Someone had lied to him, someone had kept Iris from him.

And if not you, then who?

Steve’s quiet knock on his door makes Bucky’s head snap up, his eyes narrowing as his friend steps across the threshold. He’s still angry, and Steve knows it, holding his hands up placatingly.

“Look. I know you don’t want to talk to me right now. But I’m heading out, and I think you should come with me.”

Bucky eyes him suspiciously. “If you’re trying to drop me off at a facility this is a shitty fucking way to start.” Steve shakes his head.

“Not a facility.”

“Then where?”

“You’ll see.” Bucky watches his friend’s face for a tell—Steve always was a terrible liar. There doesn’t seem to be one though, not that Bucky can see. He gets up slowly, and follows Steve back down the stairs and out the front door. Steve gets into the driver’s seat, and waits patiently for Bucky to catch up before the truck engine roars to life. Bucky is glad that Steve doesn’t force conversation, doesn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless platitudes as he drives.

He doesn’t turn toward Meridian, instead taking the dirt road north of town, away from the meager downtown strip and up into the hills. It’s a gloomy day, overcast and gray, with the occasional drop of rain splattering against the windshield. The back-roads are both familiar and strange to him now, it’s been so long since he’s driven them.

Bucky remembers that—driving full speed around the treacherous corners with you standing up through the sunroof, your arms outstretched like you were trying to touch the sky. He’d believed you could then, in those moments, that your fingertips could touch the deep unending blue.

That blue is gone, though, as are the people you were—Bucky doesn’t know you anymore.

He’s surprised, when Steve pulls up to the old graveyard and doesn’t pass by, slowing to a stop outside the gates.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, panic gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. “Steve—”

“How long’s it been, Buck? Five years? Six?”

“Fuck you,” Bucky snarls, lunging forward to try and grab the keys from Steve himself. “I don’t want—”

“For once, Buck, I could not give a shit less about what you want.” Steve stuffs the keys into his pocket and gets out of the car. “Come on.” He doesn’t wait for Bucky, pulling open one of the wrought iron gates with both hands. It opens with a rough squeal. Bucky reluctantly unbuckles himself, sticking a nervous cigarette between his lips as he follows him down the muddy path. His hands are trembling and unsure as he lifts the lighter, but his feet know the way without his direction.

The graves are right next to each other, just like they are in Bucky’s nightmares. The grass is green over the top of them, different from the loose dirt that had been shoveled on top just before Bucky had lit out of Meridian.

Should have been me.

“Why did you bring me here?” Bucky asks, his throat tight with tears he doesn’t want to shed. The cigarette burns at his lips, and he flicks the remains of it into the damp grass behind him.

“It’s the one place you’ve been avoiding. You promised you would come back.”

Bucky flinches.

It’s the first promise he ever broke, the one he’d made as he tossed in his handful of dirt like the preacher told him to. They’re in a better place, he’d said, patting Bucky sadly on the shoulder. A better place. Bucky was too old then to believe the lie—there was no better place. Just cold, wet earth and worms and nothing. He wonders if the demon was born that day, coming up out of the dirt while his mother and sister were lowered into it, because he’d known he was lying, even as he spoke the soft words to Becca’s tombstone—

He would never come back.

But here you are, his self loathing whispers. Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

“It should have been me,” he says softly, stepping forward to rest his palm against the cold stone. “We all know it should have been me.”

“I don’t think Becca would agree with you.”

“Well it doesn’t matter what you think,” Bucky snarls over his shoulder. “She’s dead.” Steve runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

“Yeah, Buck. She’s dead. She’s dead because Fred Ackerson’s truck jumped the guardrail.” Bucky doesn’t know why hearing that from Steve enrages him, makes him want to pummel his best friend’s face into pulp right there in the dirt next to his sister.

“You don’t understand,” he says through gritted teeth, his hand a tight fist on the tombstone. “If I had—” Steve grabs his shoulders, shaking him.

“What? What would you have done? She died on impact.” There are tears in his eyes too. “How long are you going to punish yourself for this shit, Buck?”

“I deserve—”

“Iris is six.” Steve’s words cut through him like a blade. “Do you want to see her make it to seven? Eight? Or do you want to be down there in the dirt?” He asks, his voice hard. “Because you won’t. Fuck, Bucky, you keep this shit up, I don’t think you’re going to see Christmas.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Yeah, well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” Steve says, releasing him. “It’s always been up to you.” He casts a forlorn look at Becca’s tombstone over Bucky’s shoulder, before he shakes his head. “Say… whatever you need to say. I’ll be waiting for you in the truck.” The silence closes in around him like fog, so loud that Bucky’s ears ring with it as he stares at the graves. He’d never said anything at the funerals, his tight lipped silence as loud as any of the moving eulogies given by those that had known them.

Bucky clears his throat. “Hey, Beccs.” He says in a hoarse, quiet voice. “B-been a while, huh?” The ground is muddy, but he sits down on it anyway, on the strip of grass between his mother and sister. “I, um. I don’t know what to say. That’s why I never said anything, it all seemed… stupid, I guess. Because you can’t hear me where you are, so… what does it matter, right?”

He’s tempted to give up and go back to the car, but Bucky swallows down the bitter urge, and keeps trying.

“But… if you could hear me, Beccs, I’m—I’m fuckin’ sorry.” His voice cracks. It feels like glass in his veins to say it, to finally admit it out loud to the air. “I am so fuckin’ sorry.” He hates to think about that night, about pulling mom and Beccs out of the twisted burning metal. The only way he can is with the pills, but there aren’t any this time; nothing to stop him from having to sit with his pain.

And for the first time in a long time, Bucky does. He welcomes it back like an old friend—and for once, the demon is silent.

“I’m sorry I didn’t turn fast enough, didn’t see him coming,” he mumbles through steady tears. “I’d give anything for it to be me in there, not you.” The tears won’t stop now that they’ve started. “Y-you were going to be fucking—I dunno. A fucking astrophysicist, or something, Beccs. A goddamn force, and I, fuck. I don’t know what to be without you, sis. I… I don’t even want to be.” He admits the last part softly, to himself. He hasn’t thought it, really, not beyond wishing he could trade places with her.

If he was honest, Bucky wanted to die. That was the truth of it. That was why he didn’t bother to save money, why he did every drug he could until he was blacking out. He wanted oblivion—like mom. Like Becca.

That’s not what Beccs would want. The voice is softer, not acid like the one that usually follows every conscious thought.

She would want you to live.

Bucky isn’t sure how long he sits there in the cold drizzle before he gets up, wiping at his face. His hair is slick from the rain, and he shakes the droplets off of his coat before he gets into the passenger seat of Steve’s truck. He’s waiting—just like he said he was.

He starts it wordlessly, and they’re halfway back to Meridian when he asks him.

“Did you say what you needed to say, Buck?” Bucky follows the path of a particularly fat drop of rain down the window with his finger until it passes from view.

“Yeah. I think so.”

next chapter

Thank you for reading! Please check out my masterlist for other, similar works, and follow my library blog, @box-of-bones-library for updates. ❤️

#sebastia stan fanfiction #sebastian stan characters #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barmes angst #bucky barnes smut #slow burn #bucky fanfic #boxofbonesfic #angst

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treedaddymcpuffpuff · 3 months

Note

.. So- I might've been binging and re-reading too many of your dark!John stories, and the John+Tex collab you guys have going on with @johnwickb1tsch and @sweetwolfcupcake, but whenever I listen to 'Warship my wreck' by Marilyn Manson, I can't not think about your writing 😂😭😭

"You're a paper doll, I'll fold you how I want. You are not my noose, I tied this knot.. If this won't be our fingers locked together, then this is total war, method not objection"

Just sounds like dark, mean, little bit delusional, and slightly selfish John proclaiming his love for the reader and AAAAAAH 🥹🥹🥹

Seriously, I think I'm addicted to your writing. Those darker themes (dub-con says hello 🤤😂) just make your stories even more exciting. You and the other two seriously have a talent for dark/grey romance 🥹

spooky!!! Omg !!! I <3 Marilyn Manson songs. Adding this to my writing playlist because it’s not on there. I do have like 3 other Marilyn songs on there, though.

Honestly, I love morally grey characters so much. And @sweetwolfcupcake and @johnwickb1tsch are so talented and fun to feed off of. And the balance is amazing.

I do love me some dark John wick, like I have WIPS that I’m scared to post with dark john because I swear I black out while I’m writing them 🙃🙃🙃. I also love nice John though.

AND I STILL THINK YOU NEED TO WRITE. You have such a great mind on you for plotting and stories and things like that.

also, ily, thank you for being so nice to me, have internet flowers! 💐 🥰 and the song is banging btw! I’m listening to it as I type this lmaooooo.

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cyxnidx · 1 year

Text

TURN IT DOWN !

characters: scaramouche , kazuha , pantalone & tartaglia

summary: you love music, but sometimes it’s just a little too loud.

a/n: as a fellow music lover and addict, i love my music loud. It’s the closest im getting to it being in my veins.

!! SCARAMOUCHE

walking anywhere into your vicinity scared scaramouche. especially when you have your headphones — no, specifically when you have your headphones. he’d never seen anyone who wanted such loud music, and brought multiple headphones just to see which was louder, and therefore better. it confused him as well — how did you still manage to keep your hearing? was this some unknown sorcery? ironically, he stopped questioning you and your antics after asking one simple question.

“might i ask what makes you feel necessary to have your music so loud?” he asked you, removing one of your headphones once again in order to have a conversation with you. “to drown out the voices in my head, of course.” you replied sarcastically, though it seems as though scaramouche took it a bit more serious. sitting down quietly, he uttered a quiet ‘oh’ and continued reading, leaving you to your music.

!! KAZUHA

honestly didnt mind. while it did sometimes worry him with the volume and what not, he knew how much you loved music from the start. all he asked was that you took care of yourself. trying to make sure you don’t fall asleep with them, make sure you’re not consistently listening to it or too much. he’d even offer to listen to music with you occasionally, willing to find some new songs to add to his own playlist. though — there was one question that usually roamed his mind. why exactly do you usually listen to music while doing something productive?

“love,” he began, catching your attention as you were about to connect your headphones to listen to music. you planned to get a bit of cleaning done today. “why is it that everytime you listen to music, it’s to do something productive?”

you were surprised by his question. it was hard to believe you did. “guess it just keeps me concentrated..” you shrugged. “keeps all other thoughts calm.” you explained briefly. “understandable. do you mind?” he asked, pointing at your AirPod case. shrugging, you allowed him to take the other.

“what song is this?” kazuha asked, turning to you from sweeping. together, you were cleaning while listening to music. it honestly added to the mood, and added a tiny bit more peacefulness to the environment. “a new one i found..” you said, telling him the title. he hummed, smiling. “i like it.”

!! PANTALONE

gently waking you from your unconscious state, pantalone could only sigh as he saw your headphones stranded on the other side of the bed. collecting them, he placed it on the bedside table. “may i ask how on earth you sleep with such loud music in your ears?” he asked softly. sitting up, you shrugged. “hell of a lot better than hearing Ajax yell for somebody to fight him because he’s bored.” you replied sassily. you always were a blunt one. pantalone chuckled at your honesty and nodded. “yes, well, you have a point.” he agreed.

you looked at the bedside table where your headphones rested. you bet they’re dead, but you would like to check. though, you knew pantalone wouldn’t let you. you’ve had enough of music for the past 6-7 hours or so, or however long you might’ve been asleep. “no, hon.” he sighed, following your eye sight. “even if they still had a bit of battery, wouldn’t you let them charge to listen more later?” he persuaded. it made sense, and then you could finally have peace. “okay,” you smiled, allowing your husband to lead you elsewhere to let your headphones charge.

!! TARTAGLIA

quite frankly, he’s scared to disturb you. he knows you’re coming when he hears music, or the tune of your favorite song. he’s become adapted to telling your mood through your music. he’s also learned not to pause your Bluetooth while you’re taking a shower with music. never did he ever think you could beat him with a shower head..but you did it. though, you did have to buy a new shower head. serves him right though. who does he think he is pausing one of your favorite songs? he must have a death wish.

“you still love me..right?” ajax asked quietly, sad about how you sprayed and beat him with a shower head. again. you sighed, looking at him with soaking clothes. “if you would’ve just learned your lesson the first time.” he tilted his head. what was that supposed to mean? “yes, i still love you. but leave me alone! and you’re sleeping on the couch.” you scolded. he could only hum happily. “I’ll still come in bed later ~”

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xbeezchaos · 10 months

Text

BPD Scara! X reader pt.5

How he handles his jealousy/someone else gets in his way

The bitches have spoke. And by bitches I mean the lovely little audience I’ve acquired that loves my scara bpd series. I’ve got some shit in the works but this gives me the perfect space to write. Keep in mind. All this is based off my unmedicated internal thoughts along with external actions. Don’t self diagnose and if you relate to this. You’re not a psychopath don’t romanticize having a bpd partner cause not everyone’s like me.

Anyways. Let’s continue!!

He’s liked you for so long that if anything he’d break if you rejected him. So he’s mostly kept his feelings bottled up and been very particular about expressing them.

He has a fear that if he goes too far in expressing his emotions to you. That you’ll leave.

Has written you love letters confessing his undying love for you and the things he’d do for you

Makes playlists with songs you like and that remind him of you so he can daydream about you when you’re away from him

The moment you give him a taste of affection he’s asking for more like a touch starved little pup.

He’s clingy and defensive with you in public. He will fight a bitch that looks at you for too long

Has almost been arrested but somehow convinced the officers he beat the crap out of the dude in self defense and got let off easy

Has a photo album of you filled with many pictures of the both of you to stalker like photos of you

Learns your whole schedule so he knows when to text, when to call and go over.

You’re definitely his favorite person. But a romantic favorite person which means you’re his whole world

If anyone ever tried flirting with him and it’s not you. Trust he’d make that person cry, or pour hot coffee on them if they tried touching him

He hates physically contact if it isn’t coming from you. When he’s in his “don’t touch me” mood. It rarely ever applies to you cause he’s seeking you out for comfort

Can’t compliment you or be fully soft and romantic with you without adding in a form of insult to it.

“I love you, stupid bitch.” You would’ve thought he was joking but the way he avoids eye contact and tries to hide the both on his face tells you he’s serious

He loves to cuddle. And wants to kiss and squish your cute face in his hands anytime he gets the chance. But you’d probably never leave his arms if that were to happen.

Rarely gets mad at you. You’d have to do something super fucked up to make him pissed at you and stay pissed at you. But for this. Let’s crack into how he’d act if you upset him.

If you were his romantic FP and you had a partner. He’d hate your partner with his whole being. Treat them like shit. Talk down on them. Just straight up bully the poor thing until they didn’t like him and you had to reprimand him.

If you reprimand him he’ll still not see a problem with his behaviors. In his mind he’s right and the other persons wrong for stealing you away. How dare they take what’s his? Fuck them!

Even tho he really gets mad at you. His paranoia will sometimes trigger him into a silent episode where he’ll ignore you because he’s convinced you hate him and talking to you will prove it (you literally don’t hate him but he hasn’t come to a rational mind yet)

If you’re a platonic FP— you’ve got it somewhat easier. But it’s just the lacking romance part. He’s still going to be a black cat sitting at your feet, attacking people that try to come near you.

Platonic fps for him are like. His best friends. You’ll be his best friend and anyone who passes a threat to that relationship is clearly asking for him to just tease them apart mentally.

You’ve witnessed him target a persons every physical and mental insecurity and issues like they were big red targets on their bodies for him to shoot at. He’s relentless and careless when he’s tearing someone down. You’ve never heard such hurtful or creative insults flow like poetry from someone before.

Has a secret addiction to confrontation. The adrenaline rush is like a drug for him especially when he knows he’ll be the victor of the situation

#genshin impact #oneshots #fluff #reader insert #fanfic #scaramouche x you #genshin scara #scara x reader #scara x y/n #bpd scaramouche

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mothmans-left-nipple · 1 year

Text

@afreakingdork Sooo here is my Weak Spot playlist; Donnie focused instrumentals, a lot of his POV to reader, some Reader to Donnie. So far one Donnie to Leo

I scoured my spotify for songs and ran out; i didn't want to clog it with TOO many instrumentals for now, so just a few.

I will continually add to it as i find more, hopefully i'll remember to update this post

Songs are listed with notes and my personal favorite Lyrics as an eye catch, purple for Donnie, Green for Reader!

@garbagemilkshake i used your WS Donnie doodles as the image, you're credited in the playlist description! Let me know if you'd like me to change the image!

Songs; in order of adding them. Feel free to shuffle the playlist!

Bear in mind some of these songs are NSFW

1. NGAHHH!! - Undertale ost

So many Undertale songs fit ANY donnie's Energy

2. Blah Blah Blah - The Oozes

Donnie @ Leo

"You've ruined the colour blue for me"

3. Honeybee - Steam Powered Giraffe

Donnie to reader

"You didn't have to offer your hand

Cause since I've kissed it I am at your command

But you did"

4. Dummy! - Undertale OST

This song is peak rise Donnie energy in general

5. Everyone But You - The Front Bottoms

Donnie to Reader

"I fell in love

'Cause no one saw me the way you did

And no one's seen me that way since"

6. Love Like You - Steven Universe

Donnie to Reader

"I always thought I might be bad

Now I'm sure that it's true

'Cause I think you're so good

And I'm nothing like you"

7. Blue Moon Motel - Nicole Dollanganger

Reader to Donnie

"Take me to the Blue Moon Motel

Carry me over the threshold

Treat me like I am your young bride

Together on our wedding night

Fuck me in the motel shower

Make my makeup run like a pornstar

Carry me naked to the bed

Fawn my hair out when it's still wet"

8. True Love Café - Nicole Dollanganger

Reader To Donnie

"You have such a beautiful face

I've been dreaming about it between my legs

Come over and crawl into my bed

Kiss me, get me wet, give me head"

9. Lil' Red Riding Hood - Amanda Seyfried

Donnie to Reader

"What a big heart I have

The better to love you with

Little red riding hood

Even bad wolves can be good"

10. This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

Donnie to Reader (big Bad Villain song in general doesn't fit to a T but it is mighty sexy)

"Oh I was hit as a kid

I was good but then I quit

Everyone that tried to fix me

Knows that I can't change a bit

I've got no shame, got no pride

Only skeletons to hide

And if you try to talk to someone

Well then someone has to die

Once you chase me down the hole

Yeah once you think you're in control

You'll believe that we are partners

And you'll feel uncomfortable

Oh then the darkness rolls in

And you'll forget who I have been

But you'll love, love, love it, this is love"

11. 10 Simple Murders - The Future Kings of Nowhere

A Villain song for Donnie

"By this time I had become accustomed to the kill

And I'm not proud about it but I kinda like the thrill

To feel the heartbeat in the throat, the terror in the eyes

The sorry choking noises as they beg you for their lives

Oh, strangulation music... that was number five"

12. Everything Black - Unlike Pluto ft. Mike Taylor

Donnie to Reader

"Baby, you

Should come with me

I'll take you to the dark side

Me and you

You and me

Do bad things in the night time"

13. Addicted To Love - Florence + The Machine

Reader to Donnie

"Whoa, you like to think that you're immune to the stuff, oh yeah

It's closer to the truth to say you can't get enough

You're gonna have to face it, you're addicted to love"

14. Cradle of Myriad Stars - Wolf Children OST

Romantic Track for Donnie & Reader

15. You Are My Beautiful Song - Wolf Children OST

Romantic Track for Donnie & Reader

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poppletonink · 11 months

Text

Better Than The Movies Review

★★★★★ - 5 stars

"She. Isn't. You."

Liz Buxbaum loves rom-coms. It was always she and her mother's thing, but then her mother was gone, and she was alone for her senior year. When her childhood crush comes back to town, Michael, she thinks it is only right to honour her mother's memory by making sure he becomes her perfect date to prom. However, hanging out with Michael may be more difficult than she hoped and soon Liz finds herself forcing her next door neighbour, Wes Bennett to help her. Wes Bennett is Liz's worst nightmare - he's popular, he's a prankster and he keeps taking the best parking spot on the street from her - so, why does Liz enjoy the time she now has to spend with him? Is Michael really the right boy for Liz? Or has she just been blind to what was right in front of her all along?

Better Than The Movies is an extremely well-written book and without a doubt one of my favourite books of this year. Liz and Wes were a cute duo and I thought that their banter was perfectly written (they reminded me of a modern day Lily and James Potter from Harry Potter). It's also a rollercoaster of emotions, a book that provides visceral reactions from the reader - one minute I was laughing aloud, and the next I was crying (mostly because of how sad it can be when discussing Liz's grief).

Along with the beautiful writing of Better Than The Movies, there is the playlist of songs that are referenced throughout the book - Liz and Wes's playlist. This soundtrack is extremely well-chosen by Painter and I fell in love with so many different songs through this book (especially Paradise by Bazzi, which I hadn't heard prior to reading this masterpiece). However, I think my favourite thing about Better Than The Movies is the romcom references and quotes at the beginning of each chapter. The quotes (that mirror what is going on throughout the novel) added another layer to it, because Better Than The Movies is an homage to rom-coms, it's a written version of the movies referenced throughout it, and it's an amazing one at that.

The characters of this book are a large part of why I love it so much - the characters and their relationships with each other. I could see myself a lot in Liz - obsessed with rom-coms, close with her mother, a music lover who is undoubtedly a Swiftie and a never ending porridge pot of pop-culture references. However, at times I got really mad at her, when she couldn't see just how perfect Wes is for her and when she got angry at people because she was struggling with her grief, but simultaneously I loved her character development. Simply put, I loved Liz as a character. I hated Michael so much for over half of the book - I thought he was so boring, hated that he didn't understand sarcasm and he just didn't care enough about Liz. He definitely got better towards the end, but he wasn't good enough for Liz. On the other hand, Wes "You're best when you're you" Bennett raised my standards to a whole other level, and I love him with my whole heart; with all of the little things he does for Liz - he's a perfect version of the boy next door trope.

In all honesty, Better Than The Movies is just that: tropes. It's enemies to lovers, it's the boy next door, it's childhood friends to lovers. Yet, every single trope that makes up this book is written into it perfectly. I don't think I could find a flaw in it no matter how hard I tried.

Better Than The Movies is an addictive, adorable, hilariously funny novel. It has a perfectly sweet ending, whilst staying true to the running theme of grief. Honestly, I would give this book 6/5 stars if possible. Alongside that I would say that for all romcom lovers it should be required reading, because this book is simply one word: beautiful.

#wes bennett #liz buxbaum #wes and liz #better than the movies #lynn painter #books #book blog #booklr #readblr #book reccs #book review #romcom #romantic comedy #romance #hopeless romantic #lily evans #james potter #lily evans kinnie #liz buxbaum kinnie

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redlegumes · 10 months

Text

I Feel the Rush

Written for @eddiemunsonbingo

Square: Square C3 Cheap Motel

Title: I Feel the Rush

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,686

Ship(s): Eddie Munson/Steve Harrington, Steddie

Major Tags: Smut, Idiots in Love

Summary: Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson have been hooking up in secret. They've been going at it anywhere that was convenient. But after a tryst when their only option was a cheap motel, Steve feels he has to reveal his true feelings about their relationship.

"Steve's stupid heart thudded faster in his chest. Thinking about me all day? No. No, he was thinking about my cock. Though I'd take that little admission anyway. Steve was not immune to flattery, but he was wary of it. Eddie's flattery at first had confused him, bold and silly. Nowadays it just made him melt into a puddle. By the time Eddie crawled over Steve, lube in hand, he felt it in his core. More than desperation.

'Eddie, I need you.'

'Course you do handsome. That's why we're at the cheapest motel in twenty miles.'"

Link: AO3

EXPLICIT SMUT AFTER THE CUT

I feel the rush

Addicted to your touch

Oh, I feel the rush

It's so good, it's so good

...

Pass your boy the heatwave, recreate the sun

Take me to the feeling, boy, you know the one

Kiss it when you're done, man, this shit is so much fun

"So you’re into little singing twinks now?"

Steve turned and angled his head away from his phone speaker. He had just finished pressing play, setting it on the nightstand. "What?"

"Troye Sivan?" Eddie crinkled his nose in what Steve recognized was the same expression he wore when he saw a jar of mayo: utter disgust.

Steve didn't question how, despite his disapproval, Eddie still knew who the artist was. Troye was a gay musician with a mainstream audience. Eddie kept an eye on that sort of thing. 'Keeping up with the culture,' he would offhandedly say as an excuse if questioned as to why he knew Kim Petras was from Germany or ABBA's top five hits.

"Dude, just-"

"You know the rules," Eddie interrupted, looking even crosser. "No ‘dude’ when I’m touching you."

"You aren't touching me yet. You're just being an ass, bro-" Steve barely got the word out before Eddie launched himself over the bed, pinning him to the wall.

It knocked the breath out of Steve; Eddie's tongue quickly filled his mouth in a hot kiss that left him no chance to regain it. Steve's senses reacted the way they always did when Eddie manhandled him. His body prickled with heat. The longer Eddie plunged his tongue into Steve's mouth the more he salivated. Their jaws loosened steadily, adding a desperate, sloppy edge to each kiss. Eddie's hand worked up under Steve's shirt over his scars. The skin there had taken so long to heal, and Eddie loved exploring the sections on Steve that were now deadened to any sensation versus the patches that had become hypersensitive to touch.

Steve liked the beat of the song in the background even if he couldn't make out the lyrics any longer. Even as the playlist shifted to the next track, he felt it'd been the right choice. It fit the mood that night. Eddie was a rush. Wild and good and sweet. Steve tried to move from Eddie’s lips to other areas that had been growing into more tantalizing prospects, but in doing so he hit his head hard against the wall behind him.

All of Eddie's ferocity vanished, leaving a doe-eyed, attentive man Steve longed to call ‘darling.’

"Steve! Shit, are you okay?" His hand went to the back of Steve's head, cradling it.

God. He's so perfect. Steve felt his knees go weak. Eddie knew Steve had a history of head injuries, and even when they got rough he was always mindful of Steve's head. Steve had hardly noticed, but he remembered now, that when Eddie pinned him to the wall, he'd thrown his hand behind Steve's skull as a quick cushion before moving it under his clothes.

"No, I'm fine," Steve panted lightly. He reached up to drag his thumb over Eddie's wet, reddened bottom lip. "Hungry though."

Eddie looked puzzled for a second, and Steve used the opportunity to sink down in front of him onto his knees. He loved the wicked energy that reentered Eddie's eyes. His hand stayed, softly resting on Steve's head as Steve fumbled with his belt buckle and jeans. Eddie's cock waited for him under a pair of plain white boxers. Steve wrapped his mouth over Eddie's hidden head, letting the cotton soak up his saliva but keeping that barrier between Eddie's hot cock and the entrance to Steve's throat. Eddie always liked it more when there was teasing, a bit of a challenge or game.

He whined above Steve who was deeply proud. That noise normally didn't come till later. He continued to warm and wet Eddie's cock through the boxers until Eddie moaned. "Come stand back up. Christ."

Steve looked up at Eddie from his knees and licked his lips, knowing the position had to look good. He'd seen Eddie in it often enough. He adopted a tone of fake innocence. "Is that what I should be doing?" He ran his lips over the now translucent fabric of Eddie's underwear. "You don't want me to stay down here?”

"Steve. You trying to get me to cream my pants?" Eddie began mumbling just a little. "…because it might be working. You know I can't last when you play slutty like that." Steve smirked and blew his hot breath over his work. Eddie groaned, and his free hand gently ran along the underside of Steve's jaw until he guided Steve to look up at him by his chin. "Do I have to ask again?"

"No. I'll stand back up." Steve waited till he rose, eye level with Eddie once again before punctuating his sentence. "Dude."

Eddie practically tackled him onto the bed. His hands were now intentionally working at Steve's shirt, and he wanted so badly to be wearing less but there were rules to hooking up in motels.

Steve protested against Eddie's exuberant kisses. He pulled back, giggly and bright. "What were you saying, bro?"

Steve rolled his eyes. Okay, so maybe it is the worst. "The coverlet," Steve grumbled, barely getting the complaint out.

Eddie paused, bouncing his eyebrows rapidly up and down. “Eager to get to the main event?”

Steve huffed. “Oh fuck you.”

“Manners Harrington. Say please?” Eddie ground down onto Steve’s lap sharply.

Steve tried to stifle a moan, but his time on his knees had got him just as hard. His hips jerked up in response to Eddie's press. Eddie stretched over top of him, gathering his hair into a high bun, securing it with an elastic as Steve watched him. The motions were fluid, practiced, simple but Steve adored it. He could watch that movement on a loop all day long. Eddie's messy tresses tucked up out of reach, his long limbs stretching. Steve caught the way his lithe muscles flexed under his shirt as he tied the hair above his head. Eddie's face flushed, and his eyes narrowed as he observed Steve’s study of him.

“What were you thinking for this rondevu?”

“I think you know exactly what you want to do,” Steve said, letting his hands run along the bottom edge of Eddie’s shirt. “And I am perfectly happy with that.”

“Yeah?” Eddie cocked his head, trying to remain aloof while failing to suppress a shit eating grin. He loved to be given control. No matter how they switched it up, no matter the positions or roles, Steve had yet to be disappointed when he let Eddie take the lead. Steve loved the impression he got of a mastermind tinkering away in Eddie's head as soon as he did get that control. The ‘dungeon master’ at work.

"Yes. You devil."

Eddie laughed at that. He wriggled up and off of Steve. “Okay. Alright do your little bedbug check.” Eddie grabbed his backpack, no doubt pulling out the lube while Steve stripped the covers and checked for anything unspeakable.

The most worrisome part of the bedding had been the coverlet, which Steve stripped completely off and then began to strip down himself. It was visually apparent that the brief break from hot and heavy foreplay didn't diminish either of their appetites. Steve reclined nude back onto the sheets. Eddie made a little show of taking off his shirt and then fully getting out of his pants. He winked and bent down, turning away from Steve.

“Eds. Oh my God.” Steve felt his entire face heat up. Eddie had a black butt plug inserted and was displaying it for him. He had it this whole time?

Steve remembered the call he'd received earlier that day. Eddie had been insistent on seeing him.

Steve's folks were in town, and it was Wayne's night off. Eddie wanted a bed so that nixed the car, and now Steve knew why. He prepped himself so nicely. It would’ve been an awful waste if we hadn’t worked something out. Their hook up plans were nearly dashed till Eddie mentioned the Days Inn the town over from Hawkins. It was used by travelers only as a last resort and it was their last resort too that night.

Though it wasn't the first time.

There'd been a few nights where Steve needed to be out of his house, away from them when they were home. He knew he needed to move out, but it was so easy to be lulled back into the ease of living in his house by himself when they left. It was only when his parents were around that he remembered how acute his need to sever ties with them was. And there were the odd days when Eddie was unable to host. Having Wayne discover them was something Eddie seemed desperate to avoid. Most of the time, Steve liked it best when Eddie was home with him. Often enough they'd hang out and cook or watch TV after or in between ‘antics.’ The house would actually feel like a home, and Steve could pretend for a little while that they were actually a couple.

Steve sat up and brushed his fingers lightly over Eddie's ass cheeks, pausing to tap the base of the plug. "You gorgeous freak," he murmured. He could feel his cock dripping onto his thigh just at the sight.

"You love it," Eddie said, sticking his tongue out.

"I do."

Steve had replied in an instant, quickly regretting it. He was sure his face was painted with the amorous truth. Luckily, Eddie was headed to the bathroom to finish his preparations.

Steve lazily tugged on his cock, trying to keep his anxieties at bay. I'm about to have amazing sex because he's amazing. I'm still good with this. Just because he's into casual friends-plus-certain-benefits… it doesn't mean he wants more. And that’s okay. I’m okay. He's never talked about past relationships… only encounters and fleeting partners. That's his style. This has been working. Right?

Eddie reentered, looking sort of triumphant. As his eyes wandered to Steve's cock, the gaze turned ravenous. "Ooo I am going to ride that big boy. You've no idea. I've been thinking about it all day."

Steve's stupid heart thudded faster in his chest. Thinking about me all day? No. No, he was thinking about my cock. Though I'd take that little admission anyway. Steve was not immune to flattery, but he was wary of it. Eddie's flattery at first had confused him, bold and silly. Nowadays it just made him melt into a puddle. By the time Eddie crawled over Steve, lube in hand, he felt it in his core. More than desperation.

"Eddie, I need you.'

"Course you do handsome. That's why we're at the cheapest motel in twenty miles." Eddie was nearly giddy as he sat atop Steve. His thighs flanking Steve's, their leg hair brushing against each other's skin, as Eddie adjusted in its own delightfully light friction.

Steve was already caught up in a swirl of anticipation as Eddie rose and then gripped his cock. Steve let out a noise that sounded something like a hybrid of a moan and a sigh of relief. Eddie chuckled and dripped a generous amount of lube over the tip of Steve's cock. He wet his lips, watching Steve shudder as the cool liquid dripped down his shaft. Eddie finally angled himself so his entrance ran over Steve's head. He felt how loose his ring was against his cock.

Steve moaned again. “Eddie, fuck. Need you,” he repeated, “need to feel you.”

Eddie shut his eyes and exhaled as he sat slowly down on Steve's cock. “Ah. You've already warmed that lube up. Love how hot your body gets for me.”

Steve's eyes were slitted against the agonizingly slow pressure, fighting the urge to give in and burst. He was so sensitive. Oh. He realized that Eddie hadn't put a condom on him. They were both tested and exclusive. Barebacking had been discussed, but it was still rare for them.

“You only say that…" Steve hissed as Eddie slipped lower. "Because you have poor circulation. You're always cool."

“I don't see anything wrong with my circulation.”

Steve tore his gaze from Eddie's pink cheeks, his contorting lips, to look at his cock hanging hard. As Eddie's body came closer to fully enveloping Steve's cock. Steve’s hands reached out on the bed, his fingers anchoring in the lumpy mattress. He couldn’t trust himself to let his hands wander to Eddie when he was topping from the bottom like that. He wanted Eddie to set the pace. His mind blanked a little when Eddie slid down the remainder of the way. He began to slowly grind, rolling his hips.

“Oh fuck," Steve cried as Eddie started to move up and down. The passes were slick and steady. The plug had done its job well.

Eddie threw back his head as he rode. The tip of his cock brushed against Steve's stomach, creating a wet spot on contact. “It feels so right in me angel, just right. Heavy and good. Want you to fill me up tonight. Can't stop dreaming about it.”

“Eddie, oh.” The words were eroding Steve's ability to hold back. The tension in him built, growing unbearable with each slide of Eddie’s body’s tight grip on his cock. Steve needed release. “Please, please,” he begged. “Can I please?”

“Already? Looks like I got you worked up so good angel,” Eddie panted.

“Please Eds," Steve choked out. Even his brain felt overheated now.

Eddie grunted and sat down hard. “Come on then. Grab me. Fill me big boy.”

Steve's hands flew to Eddie's hips, his thumbs against the scarred skin he adored because it matched his own. He thrust up, bouncing Eddie above him, and then Steve let go. His orgasm drained all the tension, and in its place a rush of good flooded through him. The feeling traveled up his spine as his hips jerked upward once more. Eddie cried out a little with the added movement. He gasped as he lifted off of Steve, sprawling backward on the bed.

Steve raised his head to see his cum drip from Eddie's ass. A bit loopy and almost dizzy from the natural high, Steve readjusted so he could crawl over Eddie's thighs. He zeroed directly in on Eddie’s twitching cock. He began to suck it at a dogged pace. He let it slip further and further into his mouth till he deep throated the pulsing member. Eddie cried again, this time, some sort of warning that did quite reach Steve's lust-addled brain. He felt Eddie’s thighs tense and backed his cock out just enough to easily swallow his climax coating his tongue. He was greedy, still sucking for more even when he could tell Eddie was spent.

They both lay back on the cheap sheets, regaining their breath. Steve felt an unwelcome, post-orgasmic, clarity seep into his mind. He didn't want to be there. It was understood, neither of them wanted to sleep in the motel, but Steve wanted more than just getting out of their current location. He wanted to be in a place where he could wrap his arms around Eddie, sleep and wake in a few hours for another round. Steve's heart panged from his longing to clean up with Eddie and lay back down in soft linens. He knew that what he really wanted was to stop worrying about the time or place he and Eddie could be together.

But we aren’t ‘together.’

Eddie moved off of the bed. He stood up, and Steve visually traced his scars as they stretched with the action. The grafted skin along Eddie’s hips was especially taut and shifted as he reached his arms over each other and twisted his waist. Steve wanted his hands to be there again against his skin. Eddie cracked his neck and turned back toward the bed, shaking his hair down from his bun. He looked gorgeous. Like sin and sex and sweetness. Eddie was everything Steve desired to hold. Hundreds of moments that he wanted to share with Eddie flashed through his mind.

I can’t do this anymore. Steve scooted over to the edge of the bed and sat up."Hey. Look, it's not that I don't… I don’t want this to stop. Okay?"

Eddie looked at him suspiciously. The expression slowly shifted into one of bewilderment before he replied, "okay?"

"I don’t… love the motel, the van, the alleyway that one time." Steve tried not to think too hard about letting the word love slip out. Truthfully, I don't love the secrecy.

"The quarry." Eddie chuckled, his eyes glazing briefly. "That time in your dad's office."

Steve had a viciously visceral flashback to a desktop digging into his thighs. "Fuck. Yeah, um, those times. I want more, but like… Eddie." Steve looked at Eddie through his lashes, trying to get the right words out. "I want… more."

"Babydoll, repeating the word is uh, not really helping me out here." Eddie brought some of his hair up to his lips and his shoulders pulled inward. "’Mm not sure what you’re getting at Steve."

"Can we…" Steve groaned. Come on. I can be honest with him. He’s one of my closest friends… that I’ve fallen for. I just have to say it. Steve agitatedly ran his hands through his hair and down his face.

Eddie observed Steve’s frustration with one eyebrow cocked, his face was a mix of amusement and confusion.

Steve met Eddie’s eyes, a warm chocolate brown, softening the longer they held each other's gaze. Steve swallowed. Start small. "Can I take you out?"

Eddie shrugged. "Sure?"

Steve stood up off the bed with surprise. That was too easy, right? He pushed down slight embarrassment, remembering they were still both butt ass naked. "Sure?"

"Sure. Definitely, but, uh…” His eyes darted around the dingy room. Eddie was circling his fingers, stretching out his hair tie between both hands. “Do you one better? Steve, do you... Do you like me? Like, for real like me?"

"Yeah." Steve nervously licked his lips, staring at Eddie's while he approached, already in his space. 'Like' isn't the half of it, Steve thought wretchedly. "I really do."

"Fuck. I was hoping so." Eddie beamed back at him. Then he slipped into a slightly cockier smile. "I just needed you to be brave and tell me sweetheart."

Steve's heart leapt in his chest. 'Sweetheart' was reserved for Eddie's guitar. Everytime Eddie called him pet names there was normally a tease involved but now… He swallowed. “Eds. Look, I’ve fucked around. I didn’t know if that’s what you wanted. What you expected… but I can’t pretend like it's what I like anymore.” Eddie’s eyes flashed, a sadness tinged them. “I want to be in a relationship, y’know? Work towards having.'' Steve bit his lip and looked away, speaking so quietly he worried that Eddie might not hear him. He wasn’t ashamed of how he felt, just scared. He was terrified that Eddie wouldn’t want the same thing. “A solid, loving relationship. I want that so…”

"Hey.” Eddie's hands slotted against Steve's face, holding it so he had to face him; Eddie's thumbs were against his jaw. It didn’t feel rough or hasty like their normal touches. It felt steady, safe. “I’ve been in love with you since I saw you pick up the kids the first time. You did this crazy handshake hug thing with Henderson… Took me a while to be honest with myself about it, but I was a goner from that moment on." Eddie sighed heavily. "I also have had my heart broken by guys trying stuff out with me, so I promised myself I wouldn’t confess. Just go with it. Have fun with what I could get."

Steve gasped at the confession, and Eddie laughed at his response, kissing his lips. When he pulled back, Eddie seemed to tremble a little. Steve realized, if what he was saying was true, this was the first time Eddie was lowering that wall with him. Sex had been one thing; this was relationships, romance, love. Steve never wanted to see his wall go up again. He wanted that access, the genuine Eddie, all the time.

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I'm so sorry if I made you feel like I was toying with you.” Steve rested his hands on Eddie’s lower back, comforting himself with the contact. “I honestly… I thought this was all just what you wanted. You’re so flirty, joking all the time. I thought you hooking up with me was just… Hell,” he cursed. “I’m an idiot."

“It’s not a game for me Steve." Eddie's hands dropped down, one against Steve’s neck the other lay on his chest. Steve’s heartbeat quickened. “Not to say I don't like playing with you. But not with feelings. I’m starting to think we were both pretty big idiots here. Though the sex has been phenomenal."

Steve laughed and kissed Eddie’s cheeks and smiling mouth. "No more cheap motels?"

Steve could not think of a more endearing sight then Eddie Munson as he warmly agreed. "No more sneaking around sweetheart."

Steve's mouth went dry, and he managed to swallow before the words came tumbling out. "Move in with me?"

"Woah, what?"

"Let's get our own place.” Eddie looked at him slightly stunned, but Steve knew with absolute certainty. That's what I want. I want to be with him. “No sneaking around? Well, I’ve been in love with you since the boathouse. Eddie, I wanna come home to you."

Eddie's eyes grew a little unfocused, teary before he appeared to jolt back into himself. “Yeah. Yes."

"Yes?"

"Hell yes. But before that.” Eddie’s wicked spark was back. “We gotta sit down and make our own sex playlist. No more shuffle."

"What? You weren’t feeling ‘the rush?”’ Steve grinned back, trying to contain the boundless joy he felt growing in his chest.

He stopped Eddie's protesting groan with a kiss.

#eddie munson bingo #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steve x eddie #ao3 fanfic #smut #i write things #cheap motel #troye sivan #i feel the rush

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autisticempathydaemon · 7 months

Note

Have never done anything like this before but I wanted to participate because why not!

Hope I'm doing this right- this is for the RedactedAudio Match-up :)

1 - Ok so I have 2 song fixations, first one is "Used to the Darkness" by Des Rocs and the other is "Morning Coffee" by Chevy and Nalba

For Used to the Darkness the specific verse is the chorus, it's a bit long for tumblr but I'll give my reasoning. I've always loved this kind of rock because it reminds me of the 90s rebellion kind of era and this verse strikes me as 'society has forced me down by its standards and is leaving me in the dust because I've "made a mistake", but I'm going to fight because my life hasn't started yet and I'm too young to simply give up'. Every time I hear that chorus it gives me a second wind of sorts and reminds me to just keep going, to keep being stubborn and to keep being me unapologetically.

For Morning Coffee there is no specific line because I resonate with the whole song lol. I'm a very big coffee addict, like I need coffee or tea every day to make it feel right. The reason being is that it's a small comfort treat to help me feel better especially when some days just aren't the best and I need a pick me up to feel better, even if it's a little bit. I listen to this every morning on my commute and every afternoon on the way back home, it's such a big comfort song that I keep on repeat.

2 - 6! (subtype sp) 3 - I love a good video essay! My favourite ones are a bit niche but I especially love SovietWomble's essay about "The Forest" because it's a deep dive critique and explanation of what happens when lore is added to a game post-release and why it's so important to develop it as a whole rather than doing it in bits as it can be the difference of an amazing or completely underwhelming experience. As someone who writes for fun and loves to play games soley for the lore sometimes, I found it useful to develop and hone my skills in world-building and making my stories more coherent. Also because he did a face reveal at the end BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT!

4 - Gosh I haven't talked about my imaginary friend in a bit, her face evades me but I remember she would always help me sleep or play with me when no one else did (so everyday basically). She always wore a yellow dress and had her hair up in pigtails. I never gave her a name because she never needed one, I just called her 'friend', I miss her

5 - Put on a redacted audio vid and fall asleep to that lmfao (usually a david vid)

6 - I honestly don't know what I'd change my name to, sometimes I just wish I didn't really have a name because my self identity fluctuates so much

7 - Favourite redacted audio, hm, tbh any of David's audios. I find myself always returning to one of his videos but I think I like his camping one the most, I cry every time but hearing the stories makes my heart so full and like I genuinely want to comfort him.

8 - Huxley maybe? I love his pairing with Damien but I've never really liked or gotten into his story much, might just be a me thing- but hey he's gay so that's fun

9 - RWBY! Specifically volumes 1-3 because they're so iconic, love the entire series though, I quote it a lot to myself.

10 - Guy, he's as much as a dumbass and gremlin as I am and I THRIVE off of the chaotic energy so much. Plus he can make me pizza while we hang out so that's fun!

11 - Memes, I will start quoting memes. Either that or "Which character would win in xyz situation? A or B?" 12 - 7-11 hot chocolate but instead of milk I put a latte in it

13 - Karu's "How To Train Your Dragon" orchestra cover playlist 14 - smutty audios... idk I just find it fun to scour for a good audio on reddit lmfao

15 - I'm very argumentative and will debate anyone on any topic (I've been a debater for years), but I'm also very much a people pleaser because I like to give people gifts and do acts of service. Uh- does a plushie addiction count as something that'll tell you who I am? I like dnd and Critical Role

Thank you!

Ooh, I love you; you gave me so much information to work with! There were a good amount of possibilities I was working with, but if you’re an argumentative Six, who else can I pair you with but Avior?

You’re both similar in a lot of ways- a love of debate, prone to Acts of Service, Type Sixes who are loyal, thoughtful, and reliable. It’s these similarities but also the differences that make me think you’d be compatible. Avior and his sarcastic, sharp nature would be good at keeping your people-pleasing chaos in check. Your love of storytelling and narratives would be new and so refreshing to him as he’s never put so much thought into fantasy and fiction. He learns to accept your gifts graciously because he wants you to be happy even though he’s not used to it.

Your life together would be so fun; you’d make his life so fun. Avior does not understand your plushie collection, but he tolerates it and comes to terms with their watching eyes every day because he loves you. He also doesn’t understand any of your memes either; he pretends he thinks they’re insipid and pointless, but he actually thinks they and you are cute and silly when you quote them. Also, you’re totally coffee/tea addicts together, and you’ve got the best stocked caffeine cupboards in all of Dahlia.

Song:

Just tea for two and two for tea/ Me for you and you for me alone/ Nobody near us/ To see us or hear us/ No friends or relations/ On weekend vacations/ We won't have it known, dear/ That we own a telephone (oh, I hate telephones) (yeah, me too)

I couldn’t help it; you gave me a coffee song, so I had to give you a tea song in return! I also like it for you, because it’s cute, it’s sweet, it’s singable. It’s not just about tea but love and being together, having tea side by side for the rest of your lives. It’s the kind of song you could sing at Avior, and he’d have to try really hard to not be charmed.

Runner-Ups:

If you’re a DnD fan, I’ve got to give you Lasko as a runner-up; my brain would not allow otherwise! The two of you could write together and be so cute. Asher is your other contender because you’re similar in a lot of ways that would be really fun but more in a platonic, best friend way than romantic like Avior.

note: thank you so much for waiting~! I hope you like your match-up!

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

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you-are-so-much-better-than-that · 2 years

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TAG GAME TUESDAY!!! on a Wednesday.. Favourite day of the week! tagged by @celestialmickey @creepkinginc @mikhailoisbaby @grumpymickmilk

name, age, and pronouns: Chrissy, 33, she/her

if you could live anywhere, where would you live? everywhere! I’ve been so trapped that I wanna sell all my shit and become a nomad. But slightly, but only slightly, more realistically, I’ve been thinking of applying for jobs out east. PEI or Nova Scotia. Buy a little cottage on the water. Live there for a year or two. I don’t know. It’s a thought.

something on your to-do list today: ummm I’ve been telling myself I need to clean this apartment since the weekend and haven’t done it so far, so...

describe your current outfit: black sweat shorts, black front zip sports bra. hair in a bun.

what’s the last song you added to your playlist(s)? I literally don’t have a single playlist..

favorite holiday: CHRISTMAS!!! 🎄🎅🎄Like by FAR Christmas. Then Thanksgiving, but only if I’m hosting, or Easter, but also only if I’m hosting. I really love hosting.

something you’d find in your bag/purse/backpack: Ummm currently a pill container with extra pain pills ranging in strength from Tylenol to hydromorphone. Not a pill addict I SWEAR! Before my surgeries, though, when I drove, I didn’t even carry a purse. Just grabbed my phone and keys and left everything else in my car.

something you’d find in your bedroom: my pride and joy: three bookshelves full of books and trinkets! My greatest embarrassment: a treadmill I bought used and have never used.

you’re giving a Ted Talk, what’s it about? Alternative-Endings: Here Are Five Better Ways Your Favourite TV Shows With Fucked Up Endings Could Have Ended

It would be several parts, but off the top of my head, Game of Thrones and How I Met Your Mother would be top of the list.

what’s something you’d still like to do this year? This year? As in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Twenty Two? Ummm...find a new job? Visit family and friends (!!!) in NJ/NY. Eat some good food. If we’re talking in the next 365 days, be well enough to drive again.

I'll tag: @squidyyy23 @heymrspatel @tidalrace @gardenerian @iansfreckles @y0itsbri @milkoviched @howlinchickhowl @doodlevich @gallawitchxx @abundanceofnots @deathclassic @energievie @ianstummy @rereadanon @shameless-notashamed @sickness-health-all-that-shit @thisdivorce @whatthebodygraspsnot @xninetiestrendx Have you done this yet?? If so, then, here have some sunflowers! 🌻🌻🌻

#tag game

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aworldforastage · 1 year

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my first danmei playlist -- part 4: "I like these voice actors about a normal amount"

[see more in this series are under the tag #my first danmei playlist]

Every song in this post is recorded by the voice actors (or at least such a version exists but cannot be streamed for free).

There's always something special about the actors' versions. Maybe it's hearing the music in the character's own voices, or maybe it's their enunciation and delivery that really helps make the lyrics and emotions stand out. There are obvious repeating names on this play list. If I say I only like them a normal amount, is it remotely believable?

Whisper by 文森, from FOG, Season 1

"You whisper in my life"

"You whisper in my life" may not be grammatically sound in English, but you know exactly what it means in this quiet song, through a bittersweet journey of separation and reunion, coming back together for the love and dreams they never stopped believing in.

玫瑰星云/"Rosette Nebula" by 大C, from 我只喜欢你的人设/Rose and Renaissance

为你点燃星辉 / 拨开夜的黑 For you I can light up the stars, to push away the darkness of night

Sweeping, dramatic, but uplifting: this is one of my favorite romantic ballads of all time. Sometimes it's just nice to believe in love that feels like starlight. (Cast version is performed by 文森/Wen Sen.)

溺/"Drowning" by 饭卡 , from恶性依赖/Morbid Addiction

是我饮鸩止渴溺毙你的温柔相撞一刻将我枯竭灵魂掏空 I drank poison to quench my thirst, and drowned in your tenderness The moment of our collision emptied out my parched soul

The CV version is unfortunately not free on Mao'er, but it's one of my favorite cast performances. The lyrics shed light on the perspective of the laconic and stoic love interest who often does not express his feelings clearly. 文森/Wen Sen's delivery really makes the words pop, and it hits differently in the character's voice.

七百个日夜/"Seven hundred days and nights" by 奇然, 大C , from FOG, Season 2

是无双星火是热血永恒他是我爱的最终 He is unmatched starlight, is eternal passion He is my love in its ultimate form

The Season 2 theme for FOG is still about their rekindled love for each other, but with emphasis on their fiery energy and competitive spirit as teammates gunning to become future world champions, together. Kind of like a "Shonen Anime Opening Theme." (Cast version is performed by 文森/Wen Sen and 马正阳/Ma Zhengyang)

人间有灵/"Spirits in the Human Realm" by 文森, 马正阳, from 我开动物园那些年/The Years When I Operated a Zoo, Season 1

是幼稚的任性的小小伎俩是敏感的欲盖弥彰是柔软的真挚的热切渴望是圆满的人间世上 They are childish, stubborn little tricks And poor attempts to hide sensitive feelings They are gentle and sincere passionate desires That completes this perfect human realm

This song perfectly captures the essence of one of my favorite novels, which is mostly a series of funny anecdotes with no real villains or arguably even a plot. The tone is silly and funny, but the romance that blossoms from these chaos and antics is both hilarious and seriously sincere.

你替世界吻我/"Kiss me on the world's behalf" by 胡良伟, 马正阳 from 到了30岁还是童贞的话，好像就会变成魔法使/Cherry Magic

想鼓起勇气牵一次你的手，让世界借我向你袒露温柔。 Want to have the courage to take your hand, so the world can show you some kindness through me.

One more entry in the happy pop love song category! I remember the original TV drama taking the BL fandom by storm in 2021 because it's so sweet, and soft, and comforting. The AD doesn't feel quite as complete as the drama, but like this song, still has those soft and sweet vibes!

#my first danmei playlist #我只喜欢你的人设 #我开动物园那些年 #恶性依赖 #exyl #cherry magic audiodrama #cv fandom thoughts #wen sen #ma zhengyang #song rec #fog电竞 #wzxhndrs #danmei music

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eudikot · 1 year

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Today is the two month anniversary of me finishing season 3 of Mob Psycho and starting to listening to the soundtrack. Why should you care about this? Because that decision to start listening to 99 spiraled into listening to only the songs from the mp100 soundtrack for those last two months. I created a playlist with all of them and some good covers and only listened to that one playlist with under 30 songs total for the last 60 days. But today, after coming back from a long conference and falling asleep before I remembered to take my microbial genetics exam (please let me take it late we got delayed for 4 hours on the plane), I've finally decided to move back to my 60+ hour playlist and reintroduce myself to the world of music beyond mp100. Before I remove myself completely, I just want to share my listening stats over this period because I paid to track every second of my Spotify listening and am glad I did so because I love looking at how crazy I am at times.

To start off, just MOB CHOIR:

Doing some simple math... 7,259 minutes = 121.583 hours = 5 days of listening to this songs in 60 days. That alone already describes my dedication.

Moving onto my song preferences:

The first image is ordered by minutes, the second by number of times played (since the cover of Memosepia is the TV edit and is much shorter despite it being the 11th song I streamed). 99, the first one that infested my brain, still held out on top. Memosepia, probably my favorite overall, directly competed with it despite the fact that I started listening to it on the 26th of December instead of the 23rd. It's also interesting to see Tyounouryokusyani Arigatuo move from 3rd to 6th when comparing minutes to streams, but it's by a slim margin.

You may also notice that some songs repeat. That is because I've been listening to the instrumental versions with just as much intensity as the lyrical ones. The instruments are likely what brought my brain to love these songs because they are just insanely good.

But finally, let's look at the ranking of the artists:

Looking at this is great because we can get a more accurate number of total listening time and streams. However, I do think that songs with both artists, such as 99.9 by MOB CHOIR and sajou no hana, may get counted for both despite only playing once. Regardless, this brings our total up to 16,862 minutes = 281.03 hours = 11.71 days. Wow. If you were curious, that's 4,826 streams.

I'd also like to point out that the artist in kanji is who sings Tyounouryokusyani Arigatou... and that is the only song on there. So I've listened to the lyrical and instrumental version of that song 332 times (178 and 154 respectively based on the previous image). And, I didn't start that one until the 25th. Reigen needs to chill off on being so addicting.

That's all I have for this post. Feel free to determine my level of insanity from this post. I already know that I'm not going to be able to share my Spotify wrapped with anyone because if any other songs beat this during the remaining time we have this year I will be surprised. If you didn't think that I added every song except for the instrumentals to my collective playlist of every song I ever enjoyed just so I could burst my eardrums everytime they played then you clearly didn't learn a thing about me from this post. Actually, that playlist is now at 1,001 songs so that's it's own little celebration.

Thank you Mob Psycho 100

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #mob choir #Listening to normal music is so weird now. It just doesn’t have the hype that these songs provide.

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years

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Title: ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴜꜱ [4]

Pairing: Rockstar!Bucky Barnes x Reader

series masterlist || series playlist || chapter song

Warnings: Angst, Drug Addiction, Mental Health issues, Toxicity, Recreational Drug use, Hard drug use, PTSD, Dealing with trauma, Slow Burn, Fluff, MINORS DNI, [More to be added]

A/N: another installment down! i’m really eager to hear what folks are thinking and feeling, so please don’t hesitate to hit my inbox with comments or questions! divider by @firefly-graphics

series playlist || chapter song

🎤

You don’t sleep until the sky starts to turn from deep purple to pink at the edges, waiting for your phone to ring, or the doorbell, or a fierce knock—but nothing comes. You begin to slip down into slumber as the dawn stretches bright fingers up the faded wallpaper of your bedroom, and your anxieties follow you in.

You’re in the car. Why are you in the car? The window is cool to the touch beneath your fingers—it’s winter. It was winter. Maybe here it always is. Someone squeezes your hand—Bucky, you know it without looking. You know him so well that even the guitar callouses on his fingertips are as known to you as the folded pages of your favorite book.

You stroke your thumb over the creases in his skin. They are the familiar lines of a map you have learned down to the letter—every scar recorded to memory.

Why are you in the car? Rebecca is there too, her face blurred in the mirror as she leans over to whisper something to Bucky’s mother. You can’t hear her, like she’s speaking from under water.

“You think you’ll ever come back here? When you get famous?” You know how this goes, you remember this part—

“When we get famous, you mean.” The world tilts on its head and suddenly you are standing in the rain on the shoulder of the road, staring at the smoking, twisted metal—

“Mommy?”

Your eyes are slow to open, like your body doesn’t actually want start moving again so soon after falling asleep. Iris is perched on the edge of your bed, her wide gray eyes searching your face.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” you sit up onto your elbows with a huff. “I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” You hadn’t slept at all, really, but your daughter doesn’t need to know that. “Were you up long without me?” She shakes her head.

“No.” She looks so much like Bucky as she cocks her head at you, her eyebrow lifting ever so slightly as she regards you. It’s almost laughable how many of his mannerisms she’s seems to have inherited despite never being around him, how much of him is in her.

Iris crawls up to the head of the bed and scoots underneath the blanket with a little sigh. You wrap your arms around your daughter, pressing a tired kiss to her forehead.

“You sleep okay? Any bad dreams?”

“No. I was a mermaid in my dream.” Iris replies seriously.

“Oh? Did you see anything cool down there under the ocean?” As she begins describing the intricacies of her subconscious, you start trying to ready yourself for the day. It’s Saturday—one of your only full days off. Generally, your off time consists of taking Iris to absorb what little culture Meridian and the surrounding counties have to offer, but today, you’re dragging.

You haven’t dreamed about the crash since after Iris was two, but you know you shouldn’t be surprised by it’s reoccurrence, not really. The past has a way of biting your ass when you least expect it, your grandmother had said that to you when you were young, and you found it still held true. First Bucky, then Steve—it had been bound to happen sooner or later.

You can’t stop thinking about it as you slide out of bed, only managing to half listen to Iris as she describes the flavor of kelp ice cream to you over freezer waffles.

Following Bucky back from the softball game, riding in Steve’s truck because Winnie’s tire blew out on her sedan—Bucky was going to go back and pick it up later with the spare from the garage.

Kissing him and telling him you’d see him at home, that you loved him.

Watching the drunk driver plow headfirst into Bucky’s truck.

Bucky pulling his mother and sister from the wreckage, and screaming, so much screaming—

“You’re sad today, mommy.” Your head snaps up, your fingers loosening on your fork in your shock. It clatters against the plate, but Iris doesn’t blink. “I can tell.”

So fucking much like her dad.

“I guess I am,” you say after a moment.

“Why?”

You’re not sure what to say—you certainly can’t tell her that you’re thinking about the crash. The one almost exactly a year before she was born. You can’t tell her that that’s when everything fell apart, when Declan Forge’s truck jumped the divider and slammed full speed into Bucky’s Dodge.

But you don’t want to lie to her either.

“Something… bad happened, just before I found out I was pregnant with you. There was an accident, and some people I was very close to passed away.” Iris knows what death is; you’ve never shied away from some of the harsher truths, but this one is still hard for you to stomach. Iris looks like she’s thinking hard, her little brows scrunched up as her nose wrinkles.

“I’m sorry you’re sad, mommy.” Your chest goes painfully tight when she places her little hand on your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to be sad.” There’s a simple, childish wisdom in her words that makes you want to protect her, keep Iris just like this forever—but the concern written in the lines of her little face tells you otherwise.

You wipe at your tear filled eyes, fixing Iris with a soft smile. “Thanks, kiddo.”

You bundle Iris into the shower as she talks a mile a minute. There’s barely enough time to answer one of her questions before she’s firing off others, each thought biting the tail of the next as they rush to get to her mouth.

“Are we going to the center today, mommy?” She asks as you towel her off. “Miss Kitty said there’s berry picking today.”

Truth be told, you don’t want to spend any more time at the community center than you have to, these days—especially now that Bucky practically lives there. You’re bound to run into him—Meridian is smaller than a goddamn speck—but you don’t want to do it more than you have to. If Steve is already noticing the uncanny likeness between your daughter and his best friend, you don’t want to add more opportunities for Bucky to do the same.

“Wouldn’t you rather go to the park?” You suggest, but Iris shakes her head. “Or maybe the library? Or we could go see—”

“Mommy, I want to see my friends at the center,” she whines, scuffing her foot against the bathroom tile. “Please?” You can’t deny her trembling lip and wide eyes, and you heave a sigh as you draw the wide toothed comb through her hair.

“Sure, sweetheart. We’ll go see your friends at the center.”

—

Steve’s house is better than the studio apartment Tony had rented in his name, Bucky’s grateful for that. Waking up from the withdrawal induced nightmares to stare at the creepy painting of cherubs by his bedside was driving him crazier than the cravings. And now, there’s more than one place to sit around all day parsing out what a piece of shit he is—there are options; the kitchen, the porch, the living room, the den; all laid out for his choosing pleasure.

Bucky is currently parked on the porch, smoking what he thinks is either his fifth or eighth cigarette of the morning—he can’t remember. He’d been up early enough to watch the sun rise over the old warehouses in the distance, stretching golden fingers through the streets until it passed beyond the dead-end cul-de-sac where Steve’s mother used to live.

He’d missed that funeral, too. Bucky tries to recall where he was when Sarah died, tried to dredge up the memories—but they’re too cloudy for him to sort through. What a good friend, he thinks sourly, shaking either his sixth or ninth cigarette loose from the carton. Don’t even remember when my best friend’s mom kicked the bucket.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice makes Bucky turn, squinting in the bright morning sun. “You’re up early.” Bucky appreciates that Steve doesn’t comment on the fact that Bucky’s always awake, knees trembling as he picks the cuticles on his hands down to the quick.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Steve sits down beside him, shaking his head when Bucky offers him a cigarette. He’s not sure when Steve quit smoking, another memory lost to the shuffle.

“You going down to the center today?” Steve asks, and Bucky’s lip curls as he exhales smoke. He doesn’t much fancy going down there to wallow in self pity and regret. Easier just to do it here, where there isn’t anyone to ask him how he’s processing it all.

“If I said no would you make me go anyway?” He asks, and Steve actually laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be too hard,” he replies with a chuckle. “You’re skinny as shit.”

When they get to the center, Kitty is already there and going strong. She gets an almost religious fervor about herself as she speaks, her eyes bright as her lips move impossibly quickly. It reminds Bucky of what it was like on stage, the crowd’s attention and devotion like a steady morphine drip. He wonders if that’s Kitty’s addiction—being the center of attention.

“We talked about rock bottom last meeting,” she says, clapping her hands. “Now I want to talk about moving up. I want to talk about moving forward.”

No forward for you, the demon mutters. Just under. Six feet, right?

“Obviously today’s session isn’t mandatory, but it’s still useful. We’re going to give back to our community today, the community that has held us through these tough times.” Bucky’s not sure which community she’s talking about, considering that most of the folks inhabiting Meridian are no better than rabid dogs, but he keeps that little thought to himself.

“There’s a local business in need of a little assistance, they’re short staffed this quarter, and we’re going to assist! Isn’t that wonderful?” Bucky wants to shake his head, but refrains from doing so—barely. “Raul’s Berry Farm, out north on 49.”

Great.

Kitty’s rented a van for today’s excursion, but Steve volunteers to drive him, which Bucky is thankful for. He’s not really sure how many more “uplifting” and “inspirational” stories he can handle. He gets back into Steve’s pickup, leaning his head back against the headrest. Steve pulls out into traffic, following the van. His fingers drum nervously against the wheel, tapping out an anxious rhythm Bucky’s not even sure he notices. Steve’s always been fidgety when he’s nervous, though, ever since they were little.

“What?” Bucky asks, and Steve turns to look at him like he has three heads. Bucky gestures at Steve’s fingers, tap-dancing across the dashboard. “What’s the problem?”

Steve shrugs. “Nothing.”

“You always were a shit liar.”

Steve scowls at him. “It’s nothing, Buck. Seriously.”

The berry farm is a Meridian institution, one of the local businesses that had been around since before the town was a town. Bucky doesn’t think that’s a particularly impressive resume, but he knows better than to mention it when he hops out of Steve’s pickup and down into the dusty parking lot. Kitty gestures for everyone to circle in, clapping her hands excitedly.

“Alright everyone. We’ve got some little helpers here today too,” she points at a short yellow school bus that Bucky assumes also came from the community center. “I think we all know how important it is in the process to make amends not only to ourselves but to our community!”

Can’t make amends to people who are dead though, can you?

Bucky picks up his five gallon bucket and starts down a line of blueberry bushes. He pops a few into his mouth, tart sweetness bursting over his tongue. He doesn’t wait for Kitty to deliver instructions—after all, how much directing could they possibly need to pick berries? The smell of the hot sun, the laughter of the children racing up and down the rows—it’s nostalgic. Bucky had been here many times himself on school field trips, the farm being one of the only “historic” locations within forty-five minutes of Meridian.

A group of children rounds the corner, flying down the dirt path at top speed. One of them crashes into his legs, and then lands back on the ground with a soft oof.

“Easy, kid.” Bucky reaches down to help her up, and his heart leaps into his throat when Iris beams at him.

“Hi, Mr. Bucky!” Her wide smile is missing a couple of teeth. “I’m sorry I runned into you.”

“That’s okay.” He glances around, looking for you, but he doesn’t see you. “Where’s, um. Where’s your mom?” She cocks her head at him.

“She’s talking with Miss Kitty.” Iris points back towards the parking lot, and then makes a face. “Grown-up stuff.” She looks so much like you, wrinkling her little nose with distaste the same way you do. He can’t help but wonder who you’d found after him, who had tried to help you pick up the pieces because Bucky wouldn’t.

Couldn’t.

And perhaps that’s the worst part of all, that when he’d broken you, he expected you to stay that way. But you hadn’t. You’ve moved on, you’ve grown, while Bucky is stuck in the same mud pit, nursing the same old wounds. Or maybe he isn’t nursing them at all, just tearing them open again and again because he knows he doesn’t deserve peace.

If he did, he’d be in the ground same as Beccs.

“Do you, um. Do you like blueberries?” Bucky asks lamely. He doesn’t know how to talk to kids, not really. Iris looks around conspiratorially, before gesturing for him to lean in close.

“They’re mommy’s favorite,” she stage whispers, and Bucky nods. He remembers that, at least. “She’s sad today. If I bring her something she likes, maybe she’ll be happy again.” Iris says resolutely, secure in the soundness of her childish reasoning. It makes Bucky’s heart ache a little, though he isn’t sure why. “Can you help me?”

Bucky rubs the back of his neck. He knows you probably don’t want him anywhere near your kid. He looks around, searching for you, but he doesn’t see you.

“I dunno, kid, I mean… your mom, she…” Bucky stops, unsure of what to say. He can’t exactly tell a six year old that he’d nuked their relationship, can he?

“Please?”

“I guess I could… help you get a few.” She chatters aimlessly at him, and Bucky struggles to keep up and respond to every loose thought that seems to fly from her little mouth up to his ears. Iris is so much like you—and it isn’t just the fact that in more than a few ways, she could be your twin. She reminds him of you before.

His fingers are stained purple by the time Iris’ bucket is even a quarter of the way full. Bucky can’t believe he even remembers how to do this, gripping the soft fruit gingerly and twisting it off of the vine. Iris’ mouth and hands are purple too, though that’s more from eating than picking. She stands up away from the bucket and waves at someone Bucky can’t see, crouched underneath the thorny vines the way he is.

“Hi mommy!” He pulls hurriedly away from the bush, wincing as one of the thorns catches his finger. You look less than pleased, but not angry. Panicked might be a better way to describe your tight expression, the frantic way your eyes move back and forth between Bucky and Iris.

“Hey, sweetheart. I was looking for you,” you reply. The weak smile on your features grows strained. “Hello Bucky.”

“Hey.”

“Mr. Bucky helped me get lots of berries, mommy, see?” Iris reaches indigo stained fingers into the bucket, and lets a handful of berries fall through her tiny fingers like gold coins. “Lots!”

“Woah! That’s so many,” you agree, placing your hands on your knees as you bend over to peer into her bucket. “I thought maybe we could head out, sweet pea. Maybe go for dinner? My friend made reservations for us somewhere special.”

“Is it Andy?” Iris replies, her nose wrinkling again. “I don’t like him, mommy.”

You wince.

Who the fuck is Andy? The live-wire of jealousy that flares to life within him is neither logical nor fair. It’s the same one that had sparked when he’d found out you’d gotten pregnant, moved on, had an entire life without him while he was drowning in pills. But you like pills. The demon’s sly whisper makes him wince. More than anything.

“Okay. Well, why don’t we talk about that in the car, hmm? You should go say goodbye to your friends.”

“I don’t want to,” Iris whines. “I don’t want to go to dinner, I want to stay and—” You crouch down in front of Iris, grasping her hands in yours.

“I know, sweetheart. I know you’re frustrated because you want to stay and play, but it’s time to go. But you’ll see all your friends next week after school, won’t that be fun?” Iris’ pout is gut wrenching, her little lip poking out and trembling as she stares at you with watery eyes.

“Okay.” She scuffs her foot against the dirt, kicking up a few pebbles. You massage your temples as you watch her go.

“Sorry about that. I hope she wasn’t too much trouble.” You stuff your hands into the pockets of your jeans, making small talk.

“No, no. She’s, um. She’s great.” Bucky says, shaking his head. “So… Andy.” He can’t help the bitter tinge that colors his words, he can only hope you don’t taste it too. Your jaw tightens at the mention of his name, and you blow out a breath. “The um. The police guy.”

“Yeah.” You look away. “He’s nice.”

“I didn’t think badges were your type.” He scoffs.

“What would you know about my type?” You fire back, hackles already up. Bucky’s lips draw into a thin scowl, and he opens his mouth to loose more venom, but stops, and deflates.

“Nothing, I guess.” He says after a moment, shrugging. He attempts to steer the conversation back into safer waters. “Your kid, she’s, um. She’s really something.”

“Yeah.” You hook your thumbs through the belt-loops of your jeans. “Even if she does announce my business to the world.” Bucky laughs at that.

“That’s what they’re for, right?” He says, and for the first time since he’s been back you really smile at him. Bright and wide and beautiful, like you used to. His chest goes tight. “Looks just like you.”

You shake your head, laughing. “She…” You hesitate, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as the two of you watch her gesticulating enthusiastically at another group of kids her age. “She looks like her dad.” It hangs in the air uncomfortably between you. He wants to ask. He wants to ask so badly, but he knows it’ll just make you throw up another wall. He wonders how many you’ve built just because of him.

“I didn’t know they would put you guys to work like this,” you say quickly, as though forcing more words out will cover up the ones that went before. “Is that legal?” Your stiff joke lands, and the corners of Bucky’s mouth turn up.

“I don’t know. Probably not. Pretty sure there’s hazardous chemicals in the sheds that we could use for nefarious purposes.” For a moment the two of you are laughing together, and Bucky feels the clock rewind—and then it’s over, dirt crunching under Iris’ sneakers as she approaches.

“Okay mom,” she says decisively. “We can go.”

“Oh, well, thank you very much,” you reply, shaking your head a little. You glance at Bucky over your shoulder. “I guess I’ll, um. See you. Around.”

“Yeah.” Iris looks back at him too, giving him a wide smile. She tugs her hand out of yours and jogs back over to him, reaching conspiratorially into her pocket.

“I saved you some,” she says, and then holds a purple stained finger over her mouth. “Don’t tell, okay?”

“Okay,” Bucky whispers back, nodding seriously. “I won’t tell.” The berries are a little squished and hot from the heat of her palm, and they stain his fingers with fresh purple juice. He watches you go, Iris bouncing excitedly beside you as—Bucky grimaces. He remembers Andy well enough, his manicured beard and sharply pressed uniform hard to miss. Bucky gets a perverse sort of pleasure watching Iris’ lukewarm greeting, and the way you turn your face so that he gets your cheek when he drops his head for a kiss.

Prick.

At least he knew Andy wasn’t Iris’ father. That would have been a much harder pill for him to swallow, and all the more distasteful. Who is her father? The question plagues him as they head back to the community center. It’s like a rock in his shoe, impossible to ignore no matter how many times he shifts it’s position. There are other rocks too, ones that make him narrow his eyes as he stares out the window at the passing countryside. Iris’ allergy, her age…

He supposed he had been trying not to think about it, the thought playing at the edges of his conscious mind. Mainly because it would be unthinkable—you’d agreed, both of you had agreed that you would get an abortion.

So Iris couldn’t be his.

What if she didn’t? The oily smooth voice at the back of his mind whispers. What if she didn’t?

Steve’s pickup rumbles into the driveway, and Bucky sits in it vacantly for a few minutes after Steve hops out. The thought eats at him, won’t leave him alone.

What if?

“Buck, you’re pacing.” Steve comments from the doorway of his room. “I can hear you downstairs.” Bucky scrubs a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry.” He perches on the edge of the bed, his hand tapping nervously against his knee. “I just, I can’t stop thinking, you know?” Usually he has the pills to help with that, to dull the anxious turning of his mind. But now, he has nothing.

“Yeah?” Steve moves to sit beside him. “What about?”

“About Jellybean, and the kid, and fuck, what if it’s mine? And I never fucking knew this whole goddamn time? That would fucking serve me right, wouldn’t it?” Bucky barks out a humorless laugh. He looks at Steve, waiting for him to say something, anything. “Right? I mean it’s not possible, right? It-It’s not.”

It’s so silent, Bucky reckons he could hear a pin drop. For once he’s thankful to be out of the haze, because it lets the puzzle pieces slide together almost disgustingly easily. His face contorts as he jumps up, away from Steve.

“Oh my God.” He presses the heels of his palms into his closed eyes as he shakes his head. “You fucking knew.” Steve holds his hands out placatingly.

“Buck.” He reaches out to place a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, but he shoves him away.

“No, you shut the fuck up,” Bucky says, shaking his head disbelievingly. “You fucking knew.” His voice cracks, just a little.

“She asked me not to say anything. I swear, I didn’t know before we got back—” Bucky’s already running down the stairs, the sound of his pulse roaring in his ears blocking out the sound of Steve frantically shouting his name. He doesn’t realize he’s leaving the house until he’s already outside, rapidly fleeing into the coming evening before Steve has a chance to follow.

I have a daughter.

next chapter

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reveliz · 2 years

Text

"girls" review 🛗🐍🗡️🏍️

(spoiler alert: i say 'slower grower' waaaay too much.)

like the majority of people who now self-identify as mys, i really didn't care for aespa at all when they debuted. to me, the group felt like sm's poor attempt at creating their very own blackpink, yet another girl-crush group that was only distinguished by its big 3 privilege and somewhat concerning ai concept. i also saw the dozens of scandals about them that plagued news headlines and youtube video titles, and figured that what i saw as a problematic group was never going to be quite my cup of tea.

black mamba was good, but underwhelming. it came at the tail end of a year that already had a lot going for it, what with bts' map of the soul 7, twice's eyes wide open, blackpink's the album, and many successful mini albums from groups like itzy, seventeen, and txt. needless to say, it didn't really stick out from the pack.

then the bombshell hit that was "next level" dropped. "next level" is still probably my least favorite title track from them (including their smaller cover songs such as "forever" and "dreams come true"), but the weird-ass beat switch in the middle got everyone in the entire k-pop stratosphere talking about them. everyone was doing the cute little arm dance, everyone was singing the chorus, and everyone was waiting for what they would release next.

then "savage" and its respective ep came out, which was adjacent to nct 127's "sticker" in its off-putting production and weird synths. it had a limping, throbbing beat that turned a lot of people off, myself included. i remember the first time i listened to it, at 6am on an october morning, i couldn't even get through it. i had to pause it during the first verse, then the chorus, then the bridge, when i proceeded to ask myself why sm thought it was a good idea to make naevis sound like some uncanny valley cult leader. if it weren't for the b-sides, i would have probably never played that mini album ever again.

but alas, throughout the past six months or so, aespa has given me what i like to call, the 'slower grower' syndrome. it's a syndrome that a lot of music lovers experience when you have that one song you use to hate suddenly smack you in the face and add itself to all your playlists because it suddenly decided to start aging like fine wine instead of spoiled milk. sure, my 'slower grower' syndrome didn't really affect my opinions on "black mamba" or "next level" that much, but it completely changed the savage ep for me. suddenly, i was… an aespa fan?

oddly enough, the thing about the title track "girls" that was the most jarring to me was how not jarring the song was to me after my first lesson. where was that aespa *spice* i always hated? how long of a shelf life did this song really have for me, if it wasn't going to give me 'slower grower' syndrome?

surprisingly, a long time. "girls" has this sliding electronic bass line that, combined with the lighter piano notes broadcasted over the track and the dramatic string touchups, makes for a really interesting instrumental. it has a pretty long runtime and has no classic aespa beat switches (minus the dance break, which i'll get to in a second), but i don't find myself ever getting bored of the song in its entirety. however, i do think that unlike aespa's previous title tracks, the highlight of "girls" is its vocal arrangements.

not only are the vocals addictive and suitable for a vocal-heavy sm group, this song has a lot of great rap moments that i didn't expect from some of the members. so often, you see groups like twice or itzy do these talking-on-the-beat raps that make up substantial chunks of their songs, and you just kind of wait for it to be over so you can get to the chorus, but aespa makes it worthwhile. i love the song's quirks, from winter's little squeaks at the end of her lines to karina's ad lib at the end of the song. the chorus also has this call-and-response structure that really engages the listener, and i can't even imagine how good it would perform live. oh, and don't even get me started on the second half of the song's bridge. holy crap.

honestly, my only gripe with this song is, as i mentioned before, the song's dance break. first off, i don't care for aespa's dances to begin with. none of the members are extraordinary at dancing or have remarkable stage presence, and the small size of the group limits the amount of formation changes they can do, which makes their performances seem really boring when no intricate camera work is used. but also, the dance break just doesn't sound related to the song at all. sure, i know i'm probably a hypocrite for saying that when the first part of this review was talking about how good savage's disjointed parts sounded with time, but the issue with this instance is that dance breaks are not part of conventional song structure. sure, if you make the bridge half time and swap out some of the synths, it will throw the listener off, but it's still the bridge. it's still expected to be there in terms of song structure. i can't say the same thing about a dance break, when it could have been cut and had no effect on the listener's expectation of song structure or the track's runtime.

while "girls" was my favorite song off the mini album, i still enjoyed the b-sides. i liked "illusion" the most, likely because it sounds like it came straight off of the savage ep, with its minimalistic chorus, vocal harmonies, and again, very questionable lyrics (i'm looking at you, naevis). it wasn't a surprise to me that i enjoyed "icu" since i actually really like aespa ballads (exhibit a: "lucid dream") but i like how this one didn't sound too serious for a group so young and experimental. "lingo" was way spunkier than i thought it'd be, but the intro of the song makes it instantly recognizable as an aespa song, i feel. my only complaint is that i feel like "life's too short" should have just been released as a single; it's too acoustic sounding and poppy for the ep in my opinion, and i kind of wish it had been released in the spring as a 'song of the summer' sort of deal, since we didn't get any truly new material from them for the better half of the year.

so while i don't think the b-sides this go around were as diverse and experimental as those on savage, "girls" was definitely a pleasant surprise that i found myself enjoying just from the first listen.

and finally, here are the stats for this review!

ranking

1. girls

2. illusion

3. icu

4. lingo

5. life's too short

scores

title track score: 9.5/10

ep score: 7/10

thank you for reading :)

#kpop #kpop review #music review #song review #aespa #karina #winter #ning ning #giselle #liz reviews

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