#hello little victorian boy!!

[hella1975]

me: yeah i feel horrific but im not SICK haha im fine im just being dramatic. a sore throat never killed anyone haha

my friend immediately upon bumping into me on campus: wow you sound AWFUL

[livingecho-arch]

vis 🤝 the good hunter

everything is wet .

[deadsetobsessions]

Tim had forgotten, in his one man (and the admittedly liberal usage of hired guns) crusade at everything that had hurt his family, that he was technically a child. A time traveling 21 year old Tim Drake in his younger body, sure, but he’s still a nine year old child.

Tim was violently, unpleasantly reminded of this as he opened his front door to… Gotham Primary’s truancy officer.

Oh shit. He still had to go to school. Tim scrambled for an excuse.

“Hello, Timothy. Are your parents home?”

“Uh- no, sir. Only my nanny. I’ve been really,” think, Timothy, think! Are you Red Robin for nothing? “really sick. She went out for some medicine.”

Tim knew what the officer saw as he looked down at him, a pale, drawn little boy who looked like a sickly Victorian child. He has no idea that Tim had the beginnings of lean muscles and strong grip strength underneath his baggy clothes.

“I see. I’ll have to talk to your nanny, then. We need to be informed of when you’re ill, Timothy.”

“Oh. She-” shit, shit, shit! “Doesn’t speak English.” Was that racist? That felt racist. Gods, he probably sounds like a snobby classist elite. “I’ll let my mom know to email you, sir?”

The truancy officer sighed. By Tim’s lucky stars, he agreed. The man pulled out a singular paper from his plastic folder, clearly used to this kind of thing, especially from the elites of Gotham, and said, “Email the school. And have her sign this note, please.”

Tim nodded seriously. Like hell he would.

When the officer was gone, Tim closed the gate immediately. He had forgotten to close it after getting back home from stalking the Bats last night. Well, Bat, singular, because Jason was still benched.

Tim sighed, grabbing a pen to fluidly forge Janet Drake’s signature on his paper about truancy and proper procedures and what not. Then, he moved to the computer, easily stealing his mother’s credentials, emailing the school about his sick leave, and their decision to have him home schooled.

He’d miss Ives, but honestly, Tim needed the free time. Plus, maybe this way, he’ll graduate high school this time around. He drafted another email to the counselor, asking them what kind of curriculum and tests he needed to pass to obtain future degrees and what not.

He gets an email back, with all of the testing required and the steps “Young Timothy” should take in order to succeed in the rest of his academic career. Tim would like to point out he’s nine, and that this was pretentious. Helpful, sure, but pretentious all the same.

“That’s what people don’t mention about time traveling. It’s all fun and games until you get hit with the mundane and tedious things.” Tim muttered, setting up his appointments for testing. He’ll have to find someone to drive him to the tests…

His mind turned to his neighbors… hm. That’s a possibility.

Tim wiped all traces of his activities from his mother’s email, doing a quick and hidden bit of rerouting to get any educational emails regarding him sent to his own inbox.

Tim swigged a mouthful of coffee and continued on his merry way.

His new goal?

Find Cassandra Cain.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Baby Addams.

Pairing: MaleWednesday x reader.

Warning: Mention of kidnapping, Mention of forced marriage, pregnancy, Yandere Male Wednesday. Gomez and Morticia from 1991. (poor transition Spanish and Italian) If you speak any of these languages feel free to correct me nicely thank you.

Summary: You were Wednesday's wife, with a baby on the way. (sorry summary sucks)

A/n: This is inspired by the story Yandere male Wednesday , by @teresalace I asked her permission so yea. Check out the story.

Three years, since you met Wednesday, Three years, since he took you away from everything you knew, Three years since you were married into the Addams family, and finally Wednesday had got what he wanted like he always did. You were pregnant, carrying a new addition to your husband's family. Gomez and Morticia were overjoyed about the news.

It was a dim, gloomy morning, and the massive black blanket lay on your growing stomach "Mi alma, wake up." a monotone voice whispered in your ear as you slowly opened your eyes, his plump lips kissed your shoulder, tracing down your arm to your wedding ring, sweet nothing whisper in Italian in Wednesday's normal deadpan voice "My parents are coming." he said getting out of the king bed.

You sighed and sat up as best as you can with a six-month baby bump, the room was dark in aesthetic and semi-normal, with hints of white and a little red amongst the black. The only thing that was out of the ordinary was the large custom guillotine that hung above the bed, which luckily was unable to move, You had to convince and seduce Wednesday for that to happen.

Getting up from bed was somewhat difficult, but you managed to waddle to your shared walking closet, black and bright, warm colors were separated down the middle of the metal bar. You quickly showered and threw on a blue maternity dress, earrings to match, and a necklace. The walk downstairs was a little hard even when Wednesday helped, your home was gothic victorian style like your in-laws but less big. Swords, old timely guns, and torture devices littered the walls as while as mirrors, the rugs were dead animals. The furniture was you guessed black and white with red, and some armor and statues stood around the living room.

You both headed to the kitchen, It was a modern kitchen that your husband allowed you to decorate the only rule? It had to be in his aesthetic which you took. Wednesday leads you to the kitchen island and helped you onto the dark wooden counter stool "Good morning Wednesday" you smiled at him tiredly ready to break the silence "Yes, it is quite a bad morning today." he hummed and sat a glass of water down in front of you and began to make you breakfast. Despite being tricked into this marriage he was a good husband dare you say the best, Yes his..well him, he never made you feel unloved and was surprisingly romantic. The apple didn't fall that far from the tree, though he wasn't over-expressive with his displays of affection. A loud shriek rang out making you jump "I hate that doorbell." you whispered as took a bit of your breakfast that he put down. "I will get it, Mi Alma" he walked out of the kitchen to the front door, Wednesday inhaled, and opened the door. His dad held a brown box and his mother smiled at him "Our boy." She cooed, opening her arms in a grand gesture "Mother, Father. It is a displeasure to see you." Wednesday acknowledged looking boredly between his parents then sharply turned and walked back to the kitchen, Gomez and Morticia headed to the living room the door eerily closing behind them.

You swallowed the last bit of food when Wednesday walked in "Come." he offered his arm, you locked your arm his and hopped off the stool.

"There's the woman who stole our son's black, dead heart and hunts his every tortured thought!" Gomez exclaimed loudly as you walked into the living room, earning a threatening "Father." from Wednesday which Gomez ignored. "Hello dear." Morticia gracefully walked to you, almost appearing to be floating "How far along now?" She asked smiling at you "Six mouths." You smiled back "We wanted to give you this." She looked back at Gomez who held up the box "Shell we look through it together?" She asked pulling you away from Wednesday and to the floor where Gomez sat the box. Morticia opened it and took out stuff one by one "Here's Wednesday Teddy when he was just a little boy." She cooed and passed you a black teddy with stitches, the head ripped off "Cute.." you grimace, sitting it beside you. She pulled out kid-sized knives and swords "Oh this was his favorite toy!" She pulls out a toy guillotine, big enough to chop off a finger or a Barbie's head. 'So the obsession started during childhood. great.' you stared at it hopelessly.

"Son." Gomez touched Wednesday's shoulder both of them watching their wives interact with each other one with joy and the other hiding her disdain poorly. Gomez only got a side-eye look from his son, letting his father know he was listening, eyes back onto you "Let's talk." Gomez pat Wednesday's back and walked across the living to the hallway. Wednesday huffed and walked out.

"What do you so desperately need to talk about?" Wednesday stared his father down, wanting to be back within your essence "Son..are you sure she's the one for you? She doesn't scream...Addams material." "Are you saying you disapprove of her?" "Not exactly-" "Because if you are," Wednesday took a step closer to the older Addams "You will never see me or my children. She is my every soul, she cut open my heart and made me bleed for her. I would walk through heaven and back to please her. I would kill for her," his eyes narrowed "Even if it means you." a pregnant silence fell upon the two. If it was a cartoon you would be able to see a row of dots typing above their heads. Gomez grinned and shook his son back and foe "You have truly found your own Morticia!" he laughed, swung his arm around the tensed Wednesday and walked back into the room.

You yawned as laid back into the bed, your in-laws stayed until the dark of the night arrived. Though weird they were a joy to be around, the love they shared, you had wished for since you were little you had got it from a man who rarely showed emotion but love doesn't have to be over the top, love could be quiet yet meaningful and coming from someone like your husband. It was more special.

"Are you ready Mi alma?" Wednesday asked, pulling you into his embrace, his chin resting on your head, you tried nodded as the lights of the room were turned off by themselves, in the stillness of the dark and at the edge of sleep you whispered a "Te amo." Wednesday allows his lips to curl upward just a bit in the safety of the night "Ti amo"

Transition

Mi alma.

My soul.

Te amo.

I love you.

Ti amo.

I love you in Italian.

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! Theoretical Physicist

Hello everyone, I hope you've been having an amazing day and night as you deserve. Last night, I watched Oppenheimer and it's my favorite movie of the whole year. It's the type of movie you just have to see in the cinema when you have the chance, the cast is absolutely phenomenal and the soundtrack is beyond incredible, as expected from Christopher Nolan. Now, time to talk writing! I decided to make this very specific original character, I don't think this post will get a ton of recognition but i just wanted to experiment a bit. I hope you all enjoy and never hesitate to send me a request or talk to me in my ask box. I'm here for you all :)!

Every child is naturally curious, constantly grasping at everything and questioning subjects adults have long learned about. But Hans was a particularly curious little boy, asking extremely specific and quizzing questions, stunning his parents that couldn't even muster up a joking answer. This behavior perfectly explained the educational and career path he chose later on in life.

Your husband was a highly renowned man, but that never changed his outlook on life. He was still the charming and disgustingly romantic man that hid a surprise bouquet of roses behind his back each time the two of you had a date night.

Hans isn't ignorant towards his obsessive behavior, he's known for obsessing over his theories so being overly attached to you isn't something he's particularly concerned about. You're his wife...who isn't obsessed with their wife?

Well, other women and men have no effect on him romantically or egotistically, so, sometimes when other people brag about their spouses he's just sitting there like:

"Mhm. Well, yesterday my wife-"

His friends will invite him out for drinks and will try to get him to stay till midnight and he will immediately reject. "Yeah, no, I've gotta get home to the wife."

There's nothing he loves more than eating dinner with you in his office. The atmosphere is messy, ink-stained paper, pens misplaced, discontinued files, but you make it seem like the most peaceful room in the world with your presence. As much as he enjoys his job, it's nice to get away from thinking about such grand things and relaxing with the loveliest woman to ever live.

You.

As he's giving speeches in governmental spaces, he looks for your eyes to find a piece of solace. At times his thoughts can get a bit scattered when he's in front of large crowds, so, your companionship is everything he'll ever need to keep him in check.

There's a running rumor that all theoretical physicists eventually snap and go crazy. For him, this isn't necessarily true..?

I'm a liar.

Well, he has done questionable things to many people that he has and still considers threats. He's put them through extricating "experiments" in the basement at the bottom of your shared victorian home. Experiments aren't necessarily his forte but he'll take any excuse to teach those people a life long lesson.

One night, the two of you were at a birthday party in the home of another highly renowned scientist, a friend of his. Hans decided to leave your side for not even a full minute to go and grab a plate of food for you. He rarely leaves your side but when he just so happens to do so, a random nobody trying to make a name of themselves walks over and attempts to sweep you off your feet.

Oblivious to their flirting, you participate in the conversation with friendly, simple and curt dialogue. What you don't notice is Hans staring at the two of you from the kitchen that is on the other side of the room. He was absolutely furious. On the rare occurrence he leaves you alone, someone comes and takes advantage of the situation for their filthy desires.

He walks on over with a tray filled with tea cakes, tiramisu cubes, mini crepe cakes and cheesecake bars. He wraps his free hand around your waist, squeezes and sternly asks:

"And you are?" The way Hans purposefully makes himself look more intimidating than he already is results in the third party to feel like an immediate outsider, causing them to blurt their name then scurry away.

You harmlessly tease him about being a bit jealous which ignites his dimple ridden smile before he smoothly remarks:

"Please tell me, Bärchen, would that be so terrible? You can't blame a man for fighting to keep a woman like you."

He'd be so entranced as he watched you get ready for any occasion. Putting on moisturizing cream? He's sitting with his face in his palm and observing. Slipping a dress on? He's watching with a teasing smile before offering to help.

He'll see you getting ready, slowly walk up to you as he gently runs his veiny hands up and down your arms before leaning his head onto your shoulder and whispering:

"You look so beautiful, but I'm sure you know that already, hm? Let me help you." "You know how that ends, Hans. We can't run late this time, what about your speech?" "They can wait for me. Let a man show his adoration, m'kay?"

Even when the two of you live together, he finds a way to hide gifts around the house so he can surprise you with them at the right time. There doesn't even have to be a special occasion for him to show up with an edible arrangement, a beautifully boxed gift and a bouquet of yellow roses.

He had to work long and hard to get to the place he's in today, to get the recognition he deserved. He uses his money in an incredibly smart manner. Purchasing new decor for the house and...you might not guess it....booking trips and spoiling you with presents and trinkets.

He never really flaunts the amount of money he has in public, but, your wedding costed an immense amount and he was unapologetic about it. Hans knew you deserved the royal-like marriage celebration you'd always dreamed of, and he was eager to deliver.

This post was inspired by a German actor that I have an IMMENSE crush on. His name is Matthias Schweighöfer (the blondie)

[vagabond-umlaut]

The Contract To Compromise

Chapter 1 of For Love's Sake Only... Or Is It? Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader; Victorian AU; Epistolary. Fluff, Angst, Drama & Romance; Arranged Marriage; Marriage of Convenience; Love at First Sight; Slow Burn; Letters; Secret Identity.

This work is loosely inspired by 'Daddy-Long-Legs' by Jean Webster, but of course, minus the icky problematic parts of the dynamics between the protagonist and her love interest. [The novel is a wonderful read otherwise!] [Also, I do not wish to kink-shame anyone.]

Chapter warnings: A FEW TOO MANY historical inaccuracies. Talks of bankruptcy and murder. [Nothing serious happens, though!]

To say you're happy might be the greatest understatement of the century.

Cheeks hurting from your wide grin, you throw the receding horse carriage one last glance before rushing out the front door. To the Itadori's two blocks away. Whose door is opened by none but your closest and dearest friend Yuuji.

"Oh, hello—" The boy greets, eyes wide yet crinkling into a slow smile, only for you to startle him further by suddenly pulling him into a tight embrace. The sound of his yelp lost in that of your hearty chuckles, you announce, "He agreed, Yuuji. He agreed. Oh goodness, I cannot believe my good fortune but he agreed."

"He... as in your fiance?" Yuuji inquires when you let go of him, closing the door behind you then leading you into the house. Sounds of sizzling food reach you from the kitchen further down the hallway. Ah, so Megumi must have woken up already.

You nod back. "Mmhm. The one and only. The man agreed to help me. I cannot believe it but his employee Uraume arrived at our place today morning and delivered a letter from their employer. Lord Ryomen says he agrees to fund the remainder of my college tuition."

A shadow falls over Yuuji's face at your words— one teeming with pity and sympathy— you try not to let it hurt your feelings, your pride as much as it should. As much as it used to.

Though you suppose there's very little of your pride left after your once-affluent family goes bankrupt and you give your consent to an arranged marriage with a rich stranger from faraway lands— something which once made you wrinkle your nose in distaste— but you agree to it eagerly now only for the financial help for your family promised by your prospective groom should you decide to wed him.

And even less of your pride left after you write him a letter not even three days later, requesting him to pay for your remaining last year at college, though not stating it in explicit terms. Instead, saying how one might benefit from a well-educated, empowered wife. Besides assuring you have every intention of paying him back the money he spends for your studies.

A call of your name draws you away from your mind. Yuuji frowns, miserable and contrite. "I wish we could help you, but with me paying for my grandfather's treatment and with 'Gumi paying his father's debts... we're very, very sorry."

"It's okay, you silly boy," you brush his genuine apology away with a chuckle, reaching forwards to squeeze his palm reassuringly, "To have the two of you by my side even when nearly everyone else left me— that's the greatest help you and Megumi could ever give me and my family. Thank you so much, Yuuji."

A weak grin breaks across his face but before he can say anything, Megumi walks into the room with a tray of tea and pastries. You send him a teasing grin, "So how's staying with Yuuji treating you, hm? Quite well, is it not?"

"Better than the very best," Megumi replies, simple and solemn, settling on the settee beside his lover and slipping an arm round his waist. "Though I suppose you're faring the best of us all. I could hear you laughing through the sounds of the pans and cookers."

"That I am," you admit easily, taking a bite from a red velvet pastry, an appreciative hum leaving you at its heavenly taste, "My fiance agreed to pay for my college tuition after all. I can now graduate with no worries in a year— and no. No more sorry's, please. I won't hesitate to forget my governess' lessons and hit the two of you if I need to sit through yet another apology. Please, Fushiguro."

The addressed boy sighs at your demand, relenting much sooner than you expected him to. "Alright, I won't. But know that we two are always here for you, okay? We might not be able to help you financially, but that should never stop you from sharing your troubles with us. Particularly if they concern your fiance. Especially if they concern him mistreating you in any form. Yes?"

"Is that an offer to murder him if he does so?" you inquire, half-amused, half-serious. He shrugs. "If the need arises, why not? My birth father was a horrible parent but he was a damn good assassin. He taught me more than a few tricks."

"Not that we will ever need to see them, however," Yuuji adds within the next beat with a tense chuckle and a glare at his lover you've never reckoned he can give, "Su– I mean, Lord Ryomen is a good man. He's certain to treat you right. Don't worry."

And worrying, you're not. Not very much, that is.

"I hope he is," you hum quietly, "Though he is kind of odd, I must say, what with his conditions for agreeing to pay for my tuition and such."

"Conditions?"

Megumi's sharp query shoves you out your thoughts, making you realize you weren't as quiet as you deemed you were. You throw back a small smile.

"Not anything serious, fret not. He simply wishes me to send him a letter every fortnight, updating him on my daily life. Uraume said it is for Lord Ryomen to know his help isn't being in vain. And to know his bride better, considering he cannot visit me from his province anytime soon."

"And you agreed to it?" Yuuji asks, exchanging a look with the other boy.

You pretend to ignore it. "Of course. Why wouldn't I? Although..." you trail off, eventually adding with a frown, "he asked me not to expect any reply from him, whatsoever— which is somewhat disheartening, if I must be honest. It's almost as if I'll be writing letters to a wall."

"Yet you agreed to it?" It is Megumi who asks this time, scowling, "If you did not like the condition, why did you say yes to it? You should have rejected it."

"Beggars can seldom be choosers, 'Gumi," you sigh with a mirthless smile.

"Besides, my marriage to Lord Ryomen will be one of convenience solely— it's good he won't be replying to my letters. This will prevent my heart from succumbing to foolish dreams of love— I'll remember our relationship is nothing but a transaction. Him, helping my poor family and me by sending money the 3rd of every month. Me, thanking him by agreeing to wed him thus providing him a companion, and possibly a means to carry forward his lineage. Nothing less. Definitely nothing more."

A stifling silence follows the tail end of your words— one you attempt to break with a wide grin when you realize the effect you had on the atmosphere of the room. "Ah, but the good thing is I can finish my education and be a graduate— something I've dreamt of ever since I was a tiny girl. I feel so immensely relieved now."

"Yes. Every cloud does have a golden lining, doesn't it?" Yuuji chimes in almost instantly with a cheery beam, bless the boy and his kind soul. Megumi regards you carefully for a moment longer then exhales audibly, a sign of him conceding.

"It is silver, not golden," he corrects the other boy with a disapproving look before pinning it on you, "and yes, I suppose it does— but don't let your head be in the clouds, will you?"

Your lips curve in a confident little grin.

"I won't, 'Gumi. Of course, I won't."

I had forgotten this was there in my drafts. xD

Divider by @benkeibear. Header from Pinterest. I don't own the characters used here.

[lucysgraybird]

part 2 of modern!uni!coriolanus x fem!reader. part 1 here, part 3 here. as promised, reader's a lil cuckoo which i hope yall are into because it's here to stay. on this, if anyone feels like offering thoughts -- would longer updates be preferable, or does it make no difference? the only tradeoff would be that they'd come out less frequently (once a week vs every 2-3 days). warnings: blood mention, minor suggestive material. this is not a healthy relationship but BOY is it fun

Coriolanus Snow, as it turns out, is wonderful to date, at least for you. You've been back from the winter holiday for a month, and though you've yet to make anything official with him, things are going very well. He doesn't text constantly, but there will always be a good morning text when you get back from the gym, and a good night text when you check your phone after hours at the library. He makes it clear that you're together when you're out with an arm around your waist or a hand over yours on the table, or with the faint bruises that trail across your collarbone and down your shirt. That's your favourite mark of your relationship: it's illicit, obvious. You know it makes other people a little uncomfortable, and you like that they can't seem to look away. 

He's also fascinating. Orphaned when he was quite young and raised by his grandmother and cousin, you've learned that while he obviously has money now, he didn't always. He had a stint in the military to pay for school, and got a job for his best friend’s father as a thank-you for saving the boy’s life in battle. Apparently the friend had been court-martialed for something – Coriolanus wouldn't go into detail – and now they weren't as close. He now makes more money than most people would dream of twenty years out of school, and though it means he's almost always busy, you like that he's so dedicated. 

Right now, you're bent over a sheet of stats equations at a table on the quad when Coriolanus sneaks up behind you. He drops a kiss on your head and settles in an open seat at your table.

“Hello,” you say, setting down your pen. 

“Don't let me distract you,” he replies, pulling a book out of his bag. “I'll wait until you're done to talk.”

This is another thing you appreciate about Coriolanus. Besides that first date, he understands how much you value school and your grades – he actually seems to like it – and never expects to come first. You blow through the last few problems, check your work, and clip the paper neatly into your binder.

Coriolanus looks up from his book. “Finished?”

“Mhm.”

“Good,” he says. “How's that class going, by the way?”

You keep apprised of each other’s academic performances – you're both shooting to graduate valedictorian next year, so you've got a little bit of competition going. As far as you can tell, it only serves to push both of you further, as winning seems more of a reward if there's been a real challenge for it. This being said, he knows that your statistics class is giving you a little bit of trouble, just like you know that his Victorian literature class is driving him up the wall. You're going to win, but you'll let him hope.

“Not as badly as you might hope,” you tease. “I'm on track for a decent A. How goes the adventures in Victorian lit?”

He lifts his book miserably, revealing the cover of Middlemarch. You wince.

“Rough. Don't make winning too easy on me, though.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart.”

You smile at the pet name, however targeted it is. “So did you come to make fun of my homework, or did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Right, yes. We've been going out for a little over a month now.”

“This is true.”

“And I think it's time we make some decisions. I'm not looking for something casual. Between school and studying for the LSAT and work, I don't really have the time to devote to something that's definitely not going anywhere.”

“I hope you're not proposing, Coriolanus.”

“Not at all. But I am asking if you would like to be my girlfriend, officially.”

“Oh! Yes.”

“Yes?” He seems surprised. 

“I'm not particularly interested in anything casual either,” you say. “I’ve tried it and it doesn't work. I just get jealous.”

“I wouldn't have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“You haven't given me any reason to be. Believe me, if I'm jealous, I'll make sure you know.”

You regret saying that the minute you do – not because it's not true, but because it could be a little off-putting. But it seems to have the opposite effect for Coriolanus, who bares his teeth in a smile. The wider his smile gets, the more he looks like a wolf, the more you feel like he is waiting for the perfect moment to sink his teeth into your neck. Perhaps it should scare you, but it doesn't. It thrills you. It makes you want to tilt your head back and let him take hold, because you want to see your blood on his teeth and trickling down his chin, staining the starched white of his collar. You want to ruin this boy, which you would feel worse about thinking if you didn't get the sense that he wants to destroy you, too.  

“I hope you would,” he says, lifting you from your reverie. “As long as it's okay that it goes both ways.”

“Of course.” Perfect.

“Are you free tonight?” 

“I have a class that ends at 6, but after that, yes.”

“Would you like to meet my family? You'll love my cousin, and my grandmother…well. She doesn't like anyone, but she's interesting.”

“That sounds lovely,” you say, a thrill flooding you at going from occasional dates and make-out sessions to meeting his family in the course of an afternoon.

“Fine, then. I'll pick you up at 7.”

–

The Snow apartment is incredible. There's a sterility to its modernity that should be disquieting but isn't: you can't imagine Coriolanus growing up anywhere else. You're sitting with his cousin, Tigris, while he disappears to make drinks. The fabled grandmother was apparently refusing to make an appearance. Tigris seems anxious, fiddling with her floral skirt.

“So you're dating Coriolanus?” She asks finally. Your brows knit together – is she daft? Coriolanus introduced you as his girlfriend. 

“Mhm. We've been going out for a little over a month.”

“Oh.”

When she doesn't say anything else, you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“Coriolanus tells me you basically raised him,” you say, wanting to fill the silence.

Tigris nods. “He was such a kind little boy. I worry I didn't do enough sometimes, you know?”

What a weird thing to say. “I'm sure you did your best. I can't imagine it's easy bringing someone else up when you're a kid yourself. And he's turned out well, from what I can tell.”

“He can just be…intense. I'm sorry, I know this is strange, I just want you to know what you're getting into.”

You laugh lightly. “Maybe I need to find someone to give him this speech about me. I'll be okay, Tigris. I can be a lot too; I think we'll be good for each other.”

Coriolanus returns just at that moment.

“I think we'll be good for each other too,” he says, handing you and Tigris each a glass of red wine. “I hope my cousin hasn't been telling you too many embarrassing baby stories.” 

Something passes over Tigris’ face – grief, maybe, or fear – before she settles into a demure smile. 

“Not at all, Coriolanus. Your girlfriend is so sweet.”

He sits next to you and puts his free hand on your knee. “She's perfect, isn't she? I knew you guys would get along.”

Tigris gives him a tight smile, then lets her eyes go unfocused into space. 

–

The rest of the night passes with much of the same uncomfortable conversation, until Coriolanus finally decides that it'd be best if he drove you home before it got too late. It's the first time you've seen him drive, and you just enjoy the way the streetlights cast shadows on the angles of his face and the way his hand sits hot and heavy on your thigh.

“I'm sorry if Tigris said anything strange to you,” he says finally. “She's been odd ever since I got back from being deployed.”

“She was fine. I think she was worried you'd be too much for me.”

A muscle jumps in his jaw. “She doesn't approve of my job. Or my ‘work-life balance’, as she calls it.”

“Sounds like she cares about you.” It's hard to say more, because you don't really know what he does for work. Something with national security or defense tech, but beyond that, you're in the dark. It also seems like there was more to the way Tigris was acting than just complaints about Coriolanus working too hard, but it's not your place to pry. Nor do you really care.

“No, you're right. She does. I just wish she'd keep her opinions to herself.”

“That’s fair. I'm still glad I got to meet her.”

“I am too. And I'm always glad to spend time with you.”

To say that, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment and gives you a sweet, close-lipped smile. You return it and place your hand over his on your thigh. His fingers dig in a little too hard, and you curl your nails like claws into his skin in reply. He pulls the car into a parking space in front of your apartment.

“Here you are.”

You turn to him and take in the way he's looking at you, the way his eyes have gone murky in the dark of the night and trail across the scooping neckline of your top. The skin on your neck is pristine again, and you need him to fix that.

“Would you like to come upstairs?”

“I was hoping you'd say that.”

[oldshrewsburyian]

hello! so i just found out about you (better believe i'm going to be reading those cannon law recs) and i need you to answer/reply this for me in a way that doesn't sound absolutely stupid because all i came up with was "awoiaf is fetishised to hell and back with way too much institutionalised pedophilia even for medieval times"

in respect to me posting that "" i think GRRM write way too much child bride/rape/miscarriages etc than i thought was reality""

for context, this is regarding aemma arryn, a character who in book cannon has miscarriages since she's like 12/13.

feel free to disregard, thanks!

Hello! I feel like the Hostiensis of the ASOIAF universe and I'm into it, honestly. FWIW, I don't read ASOIAF/GRRM as fetishizing child marriage, but I do think that we are supposed to read the marriages of adolescent girls/young women as part of "the dark and middle ages" (tm) as imagined.

I also think (this is part of the answer, I promise) that it is a real problem that the world of ASOIAF does not have (as far as I can tell?) a legal age of majority. This is another reason we need Fantasy Canon Law, George!! I was particularly struck by this in the case of Sansa. Her adoring parents are perfectly ready to have her betrothed to a boy of approximately her own age before she hits puberty. Sansa is also not upset about contemplating marriage at this age, as a noblewoman. The women at court treat menarche as socially/legally/medically equivalent to adulthood for her. When she does eventually get married, getting married to Tyrion, who is 10+ years older than she is and also kind, intelligent, and sexually patient/experienced is clearly a much better option than the 14-year-old psychopath. This is super-legal, also. But also also, once she's out of the dress that is clearly designed for a grown woman (which she technically is! right? right George??) her husband is frankly alarmed by her youth. Make up your mind, George! Make up your mind! Is Sansa legible in court society as a woman or a girl? Clearly it is the former at least most of the time? This really, really matters, I think, to assessing the experiences and attitudes of the characters, and yet we're never given a coherent in-world answer about it (at least, not as of the first three books. Yes, I am actively mad about this.)

ANYWAY. The average age for marriage in medieval Europe was slightly higher than that in the southern United States, where I currently teach. Yes, I looked this up for the sake of comparison to make my students' jaws drop. So there's no such thing as "institutionalized pedophilia." For approximately 1% of the population, it was often desirable to have the scions of royalty/upper nobility legally married off before consummation was possible/desirable. So, for this tiny percentage of the population, again, it was not uncommon to have marriages that were unconsummated, or consummated one (1) time for legal reasons (another reason we need Fantasy Canon Law™ if this is going to matter in ASOIAF), between teenagers. One example of this would be the arranged but very loving marriage between Elizabeth of Hungary and Ludwig of Thüringen; she had lived in his parents' household from early childhood onwards, as part of their betrothal. The legal age for consent to marriage was 12 for girls and 14 for boys, and yes, that's super young by our standards, but it's also something that was only very gradually raised (the legal age for girls was raised to 16 in late Victorian England, for example,) and again, had very little effect on most people's lives in the European Middle Ages, except insofar as any marriage made without the full and free consent of both parties was invalid under canon law (the real kind.)

As the exceptional case of Margaret Beaufort makes clear, this was rare in part because of the recognized medical risks of early pregnancy and childbirth. Picking one (1) infamous case of traumatic adolescent pregnancy as a prototype ≠ being "incredibly well-read", wtf. (I know that's not your view.) I know I've done this before, but I'm going to cite a saint's life, since such stories were used to communicate moral values and reflected (to a degree, albeit shaped by narrative tropes) social realities. So. This one is from Italy, shortly after the moment when Real Canon Law codified that underage marriage was illegal. The person in need of help in this story (which you can find here) is an adolescent girl who had been married and whose marriage had been consummated. The author uses circumlocutions for this, but he is clearly both shocked and disapproving of what, implicitly, amounted to marital rape or at least irresponsible conduct. But as a result of this -- and possibly a miscarriage -- the young woman in the story was suffering medical complications, and came to a doctor who, because of the tropes of the story, referred her to a saint who was also a young woman. I love that: the implication that St. Trophimema, who had died as a victim of male violence, was posthumously helping other girls in similar situations, with the help of the nuns who managed her shrine. Anyway! the girl was healed, and may also have joined the community of women (that's unclear too; the point of the story is the healing.) This got long again, but it's another Real Medieval Example of how both legal and social realities were complicated, and how some men being abusive assholes (technical historian term) did not mean that their behavior was normative or normalized.

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

PINK VS. PINK, GO!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

The case in which his father died is the root of all the tragedy in the first 3 games. He even thinks he killed his father at first which is very sad and he has lasting trauma from the incident (his father died in an elevator during an earthquake. edgeworth is shown to panic and shut down during earthquakes or something similar like airplane turbulence and he avoids taking the elevator whenever possible)

Miles Edgeworth is the most repressed individual you'll ever meet. He is a chess player and everytime he has a chess board he puts the red pieces (him) cornering a blue piece (HIS RIVAL/THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE). He told the aforementioned rival his ex girlfriend died by telling him "her metabolic processes are concern of only historians". He dresses like a victorian child. He is a steel samurai fan. Almost christmas means it wasn't christmas

Sakuya Sakuma (A3!)

OUGH okay hello I’m gonna yell about my little guy here. Obviously he’s an orphan; parents died when he was really small, passed around to different family members, and BOY does it affect him. He’s not colossally depressed or anything but it does give him abandonment issues, a general sense of loneliness, and a latent fear that if he’s too sad or angry then he’ll get sent to live somewhere else. Even after he joins his live-in theater company, though he does start moving past it there. Despite all that, he always strives to be kind and caring and cheerful, yes in part because he felt like he had to be but also because he just generally is. He’s so very loved in the place he’s at to the point that a number of grown adults (he starts the series at 17!) openly admit that they look up to him. TRULY one of the characters ever I’m so incredibly normal about him

ok so i havent been caught up in years so forgive me if i get the details wrong but he's just a ball of sunshine despite all he's gone thru (multiple foster homes, never really feeling like he belonged anywhere). like he literally put his everything into acting because it was the only place he could go that wasn't back to a foster home (the company has dorms for the actors), to the point where he was doing "solo" shows (he had a bird as a supporting actor) just to bring in enough people to keep the acting company from shutting down completely. also it's the way that he FINALLY found a place to call home and people to call family and he was SO DESPERATE to hold onto that when his fellow troupe members threaten to leave (at least once for each of them for a minimum of 5, but only one at a time. u would think they would catch on at some point and not do that). also the sleepover cg in act 1 makes me feel like crying like they're finally on the same page and ready to work together and they look so comfortable and vulnerable with each other and it just AUGHH because they only did that after sakuya decided to sleep on the stage on his own and got caught by another troupe member who dragged in the rest of them too like hello?? crying

[femfallenangel]

nothing’s gonna hurt you , baby .

( tate langdon x fem!reader )

warnings ; cursing , wounds & nothing else , just pure fluff where Tate is the most adorable caring bbg ever <3

summary ; after a long day at new school , once you arrive home your father’s patient came a little too early for his session. noticing your injuries due previous school fight , he decides to take care of you well.

“ Mom , dad , I’m home ! “ a soft voice announced , shutting the big , wooden door behind you. No answer. You began searching the place , admiring all of the tiniest details ; some of them must’ve been here since like forever ! It’s been only a week since you moved here , here into this huge Victorian house everyone seems to admire. Some for it’s looks. Some for it’s story.

Your brows formed into a furrow at the sound of creaking floor upstairs. You were sure you’re home alone , yet the noises seemed to increase within each second.

“ Hello ? Who is there ? Mo- “ you were cut off at the feeling of a warm hand resting upon your smaller shoulder. Turning on your heels immediately , you faced a much taller frame of a boy , not much older than you , that’s for sure. His golden waves complemented his pale face so adorably , it made your face soften , chuckle even. “ Are you one of my father’s patients ? He’s not home right now , but I could call him if you’d lik… “

“ What happened to your face ? “ the male stood so firm next to you , a concern taking over his earlier monotonous mimic.

You touched onto your forehead , feeling the dried out blood under your fingertips. Your lower lip all swollen , a cheek starched on the right side. Sharpe exhale filled your nostrils as you gazed down your muddy shoes. “ It’s nothing , just … jerks at my new school. This place sucks , I can’t imagine myself bonding with anyone here really. They’re all full of shit. “ your mutter filling up the growing silence in the entire house.

Tate’s head tilted slightly to the right side as his dark brown irises lighten up in the middle of listening to your speech. Slowly lifting up his hand , he took the strands out of your face behind your ear to have a better look at your wounded , still adorable face.

“ I can take care of it though … “ your smaller tone assured him , eyes now locking onto his.

“ Oh , sit down. What do you usually drink ? Coffee , tea , anything else ? “ his filled with love and care voice asked you as he approached the kitchen , watching you sit down on a chair the closest to him.

“ Tea will do. Thanks. I just don’t really get why you’re doing that … I mean , it’s not that necessary … I’m ( Y / N ) by the way ! “ with a wide smile spreading onto your face , Tate could not refuse himself but to smile right back at you.

“ I know , your father mentioned you on our session. Pleasure to finally meet you , I’m Tate. “ the golden haired male replied as he put the pot on , taking two mugs out of the shelf in front of him.

His sight flew all around the room , searching hard for first aid kit. When Tate’s eyes finally reached the item , he grabbed onto it tight , placing himself right next to you. Analysing your entire , smaller than him frame , a chuckle left his mouth as he opened the kit.

“ What’s so funny ? “ you asked him amused by the sudden wave of joy , following onto his steps and letting out a giggle or two.

His dark eyes pierced right through your body as his smile dropped , tensing up atmosphere high in the air. “ Nothing , nothing … It’s just that you’re … you’re so beautiful. “ he replied to your just as sudden question , shaking his head off as he grabbed a wet towel , pressing it softly against your forehead , causing you to hiss almost silently.

A burning blush painted almost permanently all across your cheeks as Tate complemented your beauty , even if you could not see it yourself , you believed that every sweet word coming right out of his mouth is true , meaningful. Hissing under your nose quietly at the moment the wetness of towel meet your dainty skin made the boy bite onto his lip , trying to caress your skin more gently than before.

As the tried out blood was all gone , his fingers grabbed a couple of band aids , sticking them on the deepest injured places. He did not seem like a guy who’s doing such stuff everyday , yet the care , the precision made you quite impress and might have even awoke a feeling deep down in your stomach.

Your eyes seemed to be taken out of the world for the entire time ; you admired him with your mouth slightly opened , as if you were under some hypnosis. The time he spent to bring your look back to decent felt much shorter than in reality.

Bringing you back to the earth , Tate’s tall frame stood up the counter to fill both of the cups with hot tea , placing one of them right in front of you. He gazed down to meet your alluring sight once again , to see that flustered look on your face and drown in it one more time.

“ Tate , I’m really thankful for this , for … you “ you talked with unease , your joyful eyes looking straight back at his dark ones.

He did not talk back to you. His eyes just ran through you up and down again before finally wrapping his slender arms tight around you , pulling you closer his chest , his racing fast heart,

“ Meet me at the basement , 8 pm sharp. “

[merakiui]

I... have... an IDEAAA!!!! (hello btw, how are you doing on this fine day/night?)

OK, so like a looooongggg time ago you had these magical dildo headcannons, right? With the silly ol' octotrio boys.

And since it's nnn...

Well....

😈

To be fair, I don't think it will have such a big effect on the octorio, so maybe someone else who is DEDICATED to that sweet sweet nnn streak... (anyone u like tbh, idc I love all twst boys)

and then there is reader who rlly doesn't care about nnn and LOVES using this super cool awesome dildo they found.

Ah, yes, only chaos will ensue...

(AND WHAT IF THE PERSON KNEW READER HAS THE MAGIC DILDO??? LILE??? THEY HE LIKE "Ugh, (Name), you cursed little thing..." AHAHANSBAN!?!?!?)

ROLLO FLAMME. >:) no one is more dedicated to surviving nnn than he is. But then he also rarely masturbates unless it's absolutely necessary (i.e. he woke up with an erection and can't will it away with boring thoughts and he's also feeling particularly impatient). I like to think Rollo is really sexually repressed until he starts crushing on you and suddenly the switch is flipped and he's having all of these horny thoughts it's as if he's going through puberty again. T_T truly the embodiment of Victorian man salivating over the slightest hint of skin. His diary is definitely filled with the most filthiest of fantasies and ramblings. He probably catalogues estimates as to what your exact clothing and underwear sizes are,,,, he's such a pervert.

And if his student council aide and vice president find out he's interested in you, the two of them are definitely very enthusiastically plotting to push the both of you closer together. Any other month would be fine, but not during nnn!!!! >:( the smell of your perfume is enough to get him hard; he's genuinely struggling out here. And then you start using the dildo and it's over for him. He loses on whatever day you start using it because there's no way he's going to be strong enough to not cum the minute your tight heat is wrapping around his dick. orz

Chances are he's probably in his room writing in his diary when you use it and so he's just doubled over on his desk, drooling all over the page and trying (and failing) to muffle his moans with his handkerchief so no one in the next room over hears. And he knows it's you as well because who else could it possibly be? He's not sure if he can look you in the eye come the next day (or if he even wants to). You're truly so troublesome, making him lose nnn like that. Since you've so boldly and blatantly done such a thing, he'll just have to exact a just and fair punishment. :)

[sinner-as-saint]

we can make it till the end

Bucky x Reader au 

Run-through: You’ve known Bucky and his family for years. Bucky’s parents were close friends of your fiancé and soon, they became your really good friends too. But then in one terrible accident Bucky lost both of his parents and you lost your fiancé. Ever since, you and Bucky became each other’s rock for the years which followed. You were there for him like family. But then, Bucky’s behaviour changes and you realise that he wants something you’re not so certain you can or should give him: your heart. 

Themes: smut, age gap, older!reader (late thirties) x younger!bucky (early twenties), ANGST, mention of loss and death, fluff, hurt/comfort, taboo romance, jealous/possessive!bucky, mention of suicidal thoughts (brief), very mild breeding kink, 

a/n: this is very long 

The alarm system notified you that a car had just entered the property. And you smiled so bright at the sound that your face hurt. 

Bucky was here. And he was early! 

You were currently at the lake house that your late fiancé had bought in collaboration with his two best friends - Bucky’s parents - when they were young; a place where they’d come to reset, a place they came to when they didn’t want to deal with anyone else. This was their favourite place in the world, and now it was yours too. And you were sure it was Bucky’s as well. 

After all, there were so many memories attached to this place. Happy and sad. All those weeks in summer spent here, and winter, and autumn, and spring. So many Christmas days and New Years. You were all here where Bucky received his acceptance email from uni. You were all here to celebrate whenever any of you had a successful business venture. You never really did much; just swam in the lake and enjoyed each other’s company but just quality time was all you needed. 

And sadly, you and Bucky were right here when you received the phone call that your fiancé and Bucky’s parents had been in an accident while they were coming back from the store. You drove yourself and Bucky to the hospital from here to see whether or not your loved ones would make it. They didn’t. Bucky and you had this lake house to come back to after the burial of the three. 

You and Bucky made sure to always come to the lake house at least a few times in a year. A couple weekends here and there just to keep the memories of this place alive. And to relive the memories of when this house was filled with people now gone. 

It was a lovely property in the heart of pine woods and mountains, with the lake in the backyard. Lush and green. Especially during this time of the year when it was chilly and foggy, but not too much. The house itself reminded you of contemporary and Victorian architecture mixed together. 

It was elegant and airy, and almost each room in the house had floor-to-ceiling windows which was perfect to let the outside in, given the breathtaking surroundings. The lake and the woods kept the air crisp and cool at all times. 

But the best part of the house was how warm and home-y it was inside. 

You heard a knock on the door and your smile grew a little more. You rushed to the huge front door and opened it to find Bucky on the other side, looking every bit the final year university student he was. Hair styled in a messy ‘bed hair’ way, wrinkled t-shirt, faded and worn jeans, comfy hoodie, his backpack on one shoulder and his travel bag in one hand. 

“Hello gorgeous,” He greeted you in the boyish, flirty way he always did. 

“Bucky!” You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him into a warm hug. He dropped his bags immediately and hugged you back; needing the hug as much as you did. “It’s so good to see you.” 

You sighed in relief each time you met Bucky since the day you both suffered significant losses. After the funerals and everything, Bucky moved to attend uni and you always worried that you’d never meet the boy you knew ever again. But then, that same year, some months later when you contacted him and suggested that you celebrate Christmas together at the lake house like you always used to do, you were surprised when he agreed. 

You were even more surprised when he showed up looking healthy and well. He was just a young boy when he left for uni, but he showed up on Christmas day looking nothing like the lanky kid he used to be. 

And even now, years later each time he shows up you’re reminded that he’s growing into a capable young man. Now he’s so tall and strong that his tight hugs hurt a little bit with all those muscles. 

“I’ve missed you so much.” He mumbled into your hair as he tightened his arms around you purposely. 

You laughed. “Oh, let me breathe.” You joked as you pulled away from the hug to get a good look at him. You cupped his face in your hands and smiled at him, “How are you, young man? You look great!” You said as you let him step inside. “You know, I still look forward to the day you’ll bring a partner along with you.” 

Bucky chuckled, walking into the house with his arm casually thrown over your shoulder. “Nah, this is our special place. It’s ours, just you and I.” He said. And turns to look at you with a soft smile once he drops his bags on a couch in the living room. 

You hold back your tears just at the sight of him. He doesn’t resemble any of his parents, yet he reminds you of some of the best friends you’ve ever had. He reminds you of all those years back when coming here felt like coming home. 

“It’s so good to be here, isn’t it?” You asked. It’s something you always say whenever you come here ever since the accident. And each time, even years later, Bucky agrees. 

He looked around the house as he said, “Yeah.” Then he looked at you with that naturally pouty, boyish face and said, “This feels like home.” 

You couldn’t help but walk up to him and give him another hug. He welcomed it, wrapping his arms around you. 

“I miss them. I miss them so much.” You said, unable to help the way your eyes finally water a little bit. Over the years, you’ve cried so much that it feels like your body can’t quite produce a lot of tears anymore. 

Bucky kept his arms around you, firm and strong. “I miss them too.” He added, “But look, you’ve still got each other. We still have this place, we’ll always have this place. We’ll be okay.” 

That made you smile, so you pulled away to look at him. His handsome face, his sharp jawline, his slightly messy hair. He no longer looks like the boy you used to know. He's stronger, in so many ways. He’s different. But his blue eyes still remind you of that young boy who lost his parents way too early in life. 

“When did you get so wise?” You teased him. “And what have you been eating? Hugging you hurts now.” You pulled away from the hug and grabbed his bag from the couch, he grabbed his backpack and followed you as you led him upstairs to his room. 

“Working out helps with the stress. Plus I get super strong.” He said as the two of you took the stairs. “I’m very handy now, you see? I can open any jars, I can do any heavy lifting and all that.” He boasted. 

“Yeah, yeah, kiddo. I get it, the muscles get everyone going. I get it.” You teased him again and noticed his cocky smile is hiding something. But you dropped it for now. 

You led him to his room and dropped his bag on the bed and looked around. You and Bucky have made very few changes to the lake house over the years following the deaths which changed your lives. Other than maintenance stuff, everything is just as it was. And you both like it this way. But that also means Bucky’s room is still the same one he’s had since he was a young boy. 

“God, this is embarrassing.” He commented, looking around. 

You laughed at his ridiculous posters. “I like it, I think it adds character.” 

He gave you a playful glare which made you laugh even harder. “Oh please.” He took a look around and said, “I’ll get this sorted before I leave this time.” 

“Sure,” You nodded, “Whatever you want.” Then you turned to leave. “Come downstairs when you’ve freshened up, I’m making tea. I also made your favourite cookies this morning.” 

Bucky’s eyes lit up, “You are an absolute angel, you know that? I haven’t had real food in a long time. I’m gonna eat my weight in those cookies.” 

You smiled, shaking your head as you left the room. Some things still don’t change. 

– 

You were downstairs on your own for about half an hour. Sure, you’d taken time off work to come here but you still had to answer countless emails. Handling two major businesses was no joke. After Bucky’s parents passed, you took over their businesses in his place just until he’s done with uni and can replace his parents. You also had to manage your own so it was double the amount of work. More meetings, more risks, more stress, more emails… 

“You work too hard.” 

You heard his voice from behind you and before you could turn around, you felt Bucky’s hands on your shoulders, massaging the knots away at the back of your neck. You’d been staring at your screen for the past thirty minutes, so the impromptu massage was very much welcomed. 

“Oh,” You groaned, “That feels great, thank you.” 

“I should help out with work.” He said, massaging a bit further down, finding all the knots and easing them. 

“No,” You say softly. “You focus on uni, you’ll be done within a year anyway. Then you can take over and handle what’s always been yours. I can manage until then, don’t you worry.” His concern touched your heart. 

“But it’s too much for you.” He argued, sounding like he’s sulking as he massaged down your shoulder blades with his strong, calloused hands. “You don’t even have to do all this for me.” 

“Bucky,” You smiled softly, “You and your parents would’ve done it for me if it was the other way around. I know that with certainty. I’m not doing this out of obligation, I’m doing it because I loved your mom and dad. I still do. I take care of all this for you because I want to, because I care.” 

He caught the sadness in your voice and his hands stopped for a brief moment before he continued working on your tense shoulders. 

“I know.” He said, and you caught something in his tone which you couldn’t quite decipher but you let it go. For now. 

“Oh come on, stop sulking. I made us tea.” You got up from the chair and made your way to the cupboards in the open kitchen without turning around to look at Bucky. But then you felt him there standing behind you as you struggled to get the mugs from the top shelf. “Uh, a little help here, muscle man?” 

Bucky chuckles, “I’ll get them for you. Step aside.” 

You did and for a moment you were baffled at the sight of Bucky. In nothing but his tight, black underwear which clung to his body like a second skin. Your brain stopped working for a few seconds, it could do nothing but register the sight of Bucky - smooth, tan skin and muscles. His hair and back still a little damp from his shower. Then you noticed the few tattoos he must’ve gotten recently; especially on his hands and sides. 

“Here,” He said, handing you the two largest mugs he could find up there. His voice brought you back to the present. 

You accepted the mugs, finally meeting his stare. He looked cocky, smirking as he held your stare as if to see who’d look away first. Of course, you do. Then you tried to lighten up the mood and dissipate the weird, awkward tension that somehow crawled its way into the room. 

“You’re not in your dorm anymore. Did you forget to put clothes on, young man?” You asked him, making sure to keep your voice steady. Not that it bothered you much but seeing him nearly naked out of nowhere came as a surprise. 

“It’s warm inside,” He came over to sit at the breakfast counter, “Besides, I rarely ever wear clothes when I’m in here, remember? Because I never know when I wanna go for a swim.” 

You smiled, sliding his mug over to him and his plate of cookies which is sure to disappear in less than a few minutes. “Yeah, yeah, I remember. I also remember how you drench the entire house in lake water after you’re done swimming but refuse to get dry before you come in.” 

He frowned playfully, then spoke with a mouthful of cookies, “I stopped doing that years ago. I’m not a kid anymore.” 

You smiled at him, shaking your head again. “Sure, we’ll see.” 

“Fine.” 

“Fine.” 

And just like that, the conversation flowed. The weird tension and awkwardness from earlier forgotten. You talked about uni, about his classes and friends. You talked about the past, about his parents and your fiancé. You talked about the future and how he’s excited but nervous to take over his parents’ businesses. 

“You’ll be amazing. People are gonna love you and you’re gonna do a great job.” You reassured him. 

He smiled, reaching across to hold your hand in his. “And you’ll be there with me, right? Every step of the way?” 

Your heart melted at the way he spoke; like a nervous kid. “Of course, Buck. I’ll always be there for you.” 

You began talking about some of the people who can’t wait to meet him; mainly business partners but also some of the staff who were really close with his parents. And you didn’t realise it at first, but the whole time you’d been talking, Bucky kept holding your hand, his thumb slowly caressing your skin. 

When you did realise, you made some excuse and nonchalantly pulled your hand away. “Now, how about I get started on dinner and then we watch a movie?” 

Bucky nodded, “Yes, please I need real food. Campus food is awful.” He groaned. 

“What do you want for dinner? I can make us pasta.” 

His face brightened up at the sound of that. “Yes. With a shit ton of good fucking cheese with that, please.” 

You frowned, then laughed at the cuss words, “Bucky!” 

He got up and stretched, those muscles moving along his body, “What? My parents aren’t here now, I can cuss.” 

He laughed and ran away before you could chuck the tea towel at him. Silly him and his twisted sense of humour. 

–

The kitchen was designed like a prism of glass so you could see outside really, really well. Which also meant that you could keep an eye on Bucky as he swam in the cold lake in the cloudy afternoon. He never had issues being on his own given he had no siblings and even now, he was very comfortable with the silence and lack of company while he was out in the lake. 

He was such a strong boy. Sure, his heart was broken after he lost his parents but he never stopped being resilient. 

That thought train brought you to the two weird, awkward instances that happened earlier. Of course, you never minded Bucky walking around in his swimming trunks or him holding your hand when he was younger. 

Then the reality settled in. He’s all grown up now. Not just your best friends’ son, but a proper young man now. Should you start putting up gentle boundaries? Then again, you don’t want to push him away in any way because you’re closer to him than the rest of his distant family members. 

Your mind was preoccupied with this as you cooked. So much so that you didn’t notice him get out of the lake and make his way upstairs. You only realised he was inside the house when he stepped into the kitchen, showered and dressed this time. 

“Ah, you remembered to put clothes on this time.” You joked, looking at him dressed in his white shirt and dark pants. 

Bucky chuckled as he walked over and leaned against the counter, watching you as you cleaned up and put the pans in the dishwasher. You were normally used to this, back then, Bucky would spend hours with you in this kitchen; just watching you as you cooked or baked him his favourites. 

But tonight, his stare is different. But you shake it off, calling yourself insane for overthinking this. Then out of nowhere Bucky said, “Let’s eat in the conservatory. Should we open a bottle of wine? I’ll go check the wine cellar, we usually have good stuff down there.” 

By the time you could respond, he was already gone. It was a little odd to imagine you and Bucky having dinner and wine for some reason. Maybe because you’d thought of him as a young boy this whole time, and now that he’s acting like a grown up, it’s taking you some getting used to. 

He’s almost twenty-five after all. You smiled faintly to yourself, shaking your head at the thought. Wine… conservatory… When did he get so grown up to care about these things? 

— 

The wine he chose was amazing, it paired with the pasta you made extremely well. Bucky couldn’t stop moaning as he ate, and it made you feel a little sad when you thought about what crap he must be eating at uni. 

“I wish I could bring you back to uni with me.” He spoke, washing down his food with a long sip of wine. 

You laughed, “For what? So I’d cook for you. Bit sexist, don’t you think?” 

He laughed as well, “No, not just the food. It’d be great to have you there, you know? Like a real friend.” 

You almost frowned at the word choice: friend. You always thought you’d end up being a parental figure for him as he grows up and takes over the family business. Sure, your bond was friendly and comfortable. But a friend sounded like… more. Or maybe you were just overthinking it. 

You smiled at him after finishing your wine in one go. “You don’t have much longer to go, Buck. You’ll graduate and be out of there in no time.” 

He smiled at that, “I know. Then I’ll move to the city like you. Actually, I may end up being your neighbour.” 

You chuckled, “So you can just come over and eat my food anytime you want?” 

Bucky’s eyes were down on his plate and at the sound of that question, he slowly looked up at you with an unreadable look on his face. Then he said, “Yeah, amongst other things.” 

You didn’t quite catch that so you scoffed and said, “What?” 

But Bucky was already standing up. “Let’s dance.” 

You smiled up at him. “Now?” 

He tapped a few times on his phone and music started playing, filling the conservatory with gentle notes, “Come on, dance with me.” He didn’t wait for a reply, he simply grabbed your hand and pulled you up. 

You chuckled and went along. Eyes widening when you realised it was one of your favourite songs (a/n: it’s the slowed down version of ‘yes to heaven’ by lana del rey btw). So you danced with Bucky, the two of you slow dancing in the conservatory like the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

“You remember.” You said quietly. 

“Of course, you mentioned you loved this song once. A few years ago.” He replied. 

What Bucky didn’t know was that this song held a special place in your heart. You’d never told anyone this but years ago, back when you were engaged, you always wanted this to be the song you danced to with your partner at your wedding. No one knew, except for your fiancé and well, that secret went with him. As did the dream of a first dance. 

Listening to it now, it made your eyes water again. Your heart feeling heavy all of a sudden. It never got easier, remembering. Bucky’s shoulder was right there so you laid your head on it, crying silently. 

Bucky noticed the moment the first tear fell from your eyes. And he didn’t say anything. 

He kept his arms around you, swaying gently to the music and the melancholic voice for who knows how long. The song played on a loop for a couple of times. Your tears fell and dried up. Your heart was a little lighter, but the memories still hurt. 

“I’m right here.” He said, his voice firm and steady. “You know I’ll always be right here.” 

You nodded. Then you looked up at him with slightly watery eyes. “I know. I’m here too.” You reassured him. 

This time, Bucky refused to look away again. And neither could you. You were hurting and someone familiar was nearby so you clung to the comfort. His stare was comforting, though still unreadable. 

But the moment Bucky leaned an inch closer, you pulled away. Blinking, stepping out of his embrace. For some reason, you couldn’t look at him right away so you got your hands busy and said, “I’ll clear the table. We still have a movie to watch. Can you go set it up while I do this?” 

Bucky left without a word said. 

You were a mess while you transferred the plates from the conservatory to the kitchen. Sure he wasn’t about to lean in and … no. It’s just the wine, you kept reminding yourself. It was the wine and the memories that came with the song. You were vulnerable and hurting and he was probably missing his parents too so… it was nothing. 

You went upstairs and got changed into PJs before you came downstairs again. You found Bucky in the living room, on the couch with the blankets you always used for movie nights. 

“You remembered these too.” You spoke, getting comfy on the couch and grabbing one of the blankets. 

He smiled, “I never forget a thing.” Then he reached down and handed you a bowl of popcorn of your own. “I didn’t even forget your favourite caramel popcorn.” 

That cheered you up immediately, “Oh! Thank you. What are we watching?” 

Again, as the movie started and a quiet conversation flowed between the two of you, the awkwardness from earlier was long forgotten. 

Halfway through the movie, your eyes began drooping. But you fought it for as long as you could, eventually scooting closer to Bucky so you could place your head on his shoulder again. The moment you did, you were asleep. 

-

Bucky watched you instead of the movie. He��d fought these feelings for way too long now. He was in love with you since way before he knew what being in love meant. But you always treated him like a young boy, a kid. Okay, at some point he was. But now? Couldn’t you see he could take care of you now? 

Couldn’t you see him for who he was? Couldn’t you see that he was strong enough for both of you now? That he was all grown up, and strong, and capable of being your man? 

The movie ended and the room was suddenly darker than earlier, now only illuminated by moonlight. The moonlight reflected on the calm lake too, turning it silvery. Bucky looked down at your face so close to his and he couldn’t help but trace a finger down your cheek. 

Wrong move. Because that woke you up. 

You were completely disoriented, blinking in confusion. Bucky couldn’t help himself as he gently grabbed your chin, “Hey,” He whispered. 

“Hmm?” You were still disoriented as you looked up at him. 

He couldn’t stop himself and before he knew it, his mouth was on yours, kissing you like he’d been dreaming of doing for years now. He sensed your surprise and felt how you froze against him, surely still disoriented but trying to figure out what was happening. But he wasn’t ready to stop yet. 

So he kissed you with even more vigour. Cupping your face and licking into your soft, warm mouth as his hand drifted down to your breast. He heard you let out a gasp the moment he cupped you through your satin PJs, Bucky moaned into your mouth as he kissed you deeper, fondling with your breast and nipple. He couldn’t help himself, he felt like an animal pawing at what’s his to play with. 

And that broke you out of whatever half awake state you were in. You quickly realised what you were doing, opening your eyes to find Bucky nearly on top of you. You quickly pushed him away and got off the couch, breathing heavily. 

“Hey,” Bucky spoke gently as he tried to grab your hand again, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s just me.” He walked up to you, almost pulling you into his arms again. 

“Bucky, no.” You stopped him softly, standing in the middle of the dark room with your hands in your hair. God, what the fuck were you doing just now? 

“It’s okay, I-,” 

“No,” You said, a little more firmly. “It’s not. I…” You took a deep breath before you accidentally snapped at him. “Just go to bed, Buck. It’s late.” You were calm again, though your heart kept racing. 

He lingered for a few seconds more, before rushing up the stairs. 

It was late and your mind was a mess so you curled up on the couch and tried falling asleep there itself but then you kept thinking about Bucky’s lips on yours and you wanted to cry. This was Bucky for goodness’ sake, how could you have let this happen? 

You waited for a while and then walked up the stairs, cringing hard when you saw Bucky’s room. You rushed into your bedroom and let the tears fall. You were crying mainly out of frustration, but you couldn’t help but feel like you were betraying your friends who were gone. This was their son. You were meant to guide him and help him be the best version of himself, not whatever this was. 

You laid down in bed and fell asleep shortly after, dreading the morning to come. 

— 

Morning came and you woke up feeling less terrible. It’ll be okay, you told yourself, perhaps you’ll go downstairs and Bucky will pretend nothing happened and you’ll fall into your little routine like you always do and everything will be fine. 

You got dressed and ready for the day and right before you went downstairs, you decided to step out on the balcony of your bedroom for a little while. The chill morning air always made you feel better. 

So you did. You stepped outside and breathed in the forest air and all was well again. Then in the distance, out in the lake you saw Bucky swimming casually like he always did. You also saw the moment he realised you were out there too. You waited for a cold reaction, or any awkwardness. You waited for him to ignore you and keep swimming. But he didn’t. He raised a hand and waved at you. 

You immediately waved back, breathing out in relief. You wouldn’t know what you would do if things got messy and sour between you and Bucky. He was closer than family and you two had endured so much together that you always believed your bond would be indestructible. 

But then last night… was simply a mistake, you told yourself. You had had wine and he’s young and a little wild and it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. No, he must not have meant it. 

So you went downstairs and got started on breakfast. You were a little on the edge so when Bucky walked in, with a towel on his shoulders, you nearly jumped at the sight of him. 

“Morning,” You said smiling, then pointed at the pan, “I’m making breakfast, hurry up in the shower and come eat before it’s cold, okay?” 

Bucky nodded with a smirk and replied, “Yes ma’am.” Then walked away, and you could hear him rushing up the stairs. 

You made two plates and set them down on the breakfast counter just as Bucky walked back into the kitchen. Showered and dressed, but just in dark grey sweatpants this time. And you didn’t comment on his lack of a shirt this time. 

“Coffee?” You asked.

“Yes please.” 

You poured coffee in two mugs and sat down to eat as well. And for the first time in forever, breakfast time was tense. Neither of you spoke, neither of you really ate either. Just sips of coffee and pushing your food around on your plate. 

You took it upon yourself to stop torturing both of you. “Okay, if you’re still thinking about what happened last night, I-,” 

“It was my fault.” He replied quickly, cutting you off. 

You waited for an apology because that’s how this conversation went in your head. Apologies and forgiveness and then done, back to how you normally act. But Bucky didn’t apologise. Not that you needed him too, but it would’ve made this a lot less weird. 

Then you couldn’t take it. “It was probably mine too.” 

“No it wasn’t.” He said, “It was my fault.” 

You placed your mug down. “It’s not gonna happen again.” You said, and watched how he tensed up like he didn’t like the sound of that. “So can we please stop being awkward now? You mean so much to me, Buck, I can’t bear not talking to you.” 

Bucky gave you a soft smile. Then said, “Also I went swimming this morning.” 

You picked up your mug again, smiling as you said, “I know, I saw you.” 

“I didn’t bring even a drop of lake water in.” He boasted. “You can check.” He gave you a cocky look. 

You chuckled, “Guess you really grew up, huh?” 

His smile faded for a brief moment as he said, “I did.” Then he quickly added, “Hey, can you make those cupcakes today?” 

You smiled at the normalcy again. “Yeah, sure. Will you help me with the icing? Like you used to do?” 

“Of course.” 

— 

You two talked while you made the batter and put the cupcakes in the oven. You played board games while you waited for the cupcakes to be done and cool.

Then you got the icing ready in pipes and Bucky helped. 

“You remember how I used to always mess up the icing just so you’d give me the ruined cupcakes?” He asks, nostalgia heavy in his tone. 

“Yeah, and you’d purposely mess up just to eat more.” You added, remembering that too. 

Bucky laughed, “I still don’t get how I was skinny up until I went to uni, with the amount of your cupcakes I ate each time we were here.” 

You chuckled at the memory of young Bucky stuffing his face with cupcakes. “You were a growing boy then.” And then you turned to look up at him and caught him smuggling yet another cupcake into his mouth, “Guess you still are.” You teased. 

He smirked, then piped a huge amount of icing on his finger and casually just smeared it on your cheek. You froze in surprise. 

“You did not…” 

“Oh, I did.” 

Then it was your turn, but he kept moving away so you grabbed icing sugar and threw it right at his face when he least expected it. It went not just on his face but all over his bare chest as well.

You couldn’t help but laugh as he chased you around the kitchen. Your laughter and shrieks echoed in the house, until finally Bucky caught you and smeared some more icing on your face now that he had you trapped between his naked chest and the counter. 

You had nowhere to go so you surrendered, laughing, “Okay, okay you win. You win, I give up.” Then you looked up at Bucky and there it was again, that look from last night when you were dancing in the conservatory. 

“Bucky…” You said, ready to push him away but he held your hand so gently that your heart broke a little. 

“Please,” He mumbled, “Let me have this.” His voice cracked, “Just once, please… you’re all I have.” There was so much hidden in his plea. ‘I’m broken and so are you, let’s be complete together.’ But were you ready for that? 

You were quiet, and then he leaned in. Slowly, carefully he leaned in and kissed you again. You let him. He kissed you deeper, his hands resting on either side of your waist as he pressed his body against yours. You let him do that too. Feeling his body heat wrap around you. 

But then his kisses got greedy and demanding, his hands slowly trailed up and down your sides, caressing your rib cage and making you feel involuntarily weak in the knees. “Fuck, this feels good…” He moaned. “You feel so good…” 

This should feel wrong, immoral. But you’d been touch starved for so long that your body betrayed your mind and leaned into the touch, not caring about whose touch it was. It only needed warmth and attention which you’d deprived yourself of for years now. 

“Bucky, we should stop…” You spoke softly against his open mouth. Though your body just wanted to seek solace from the Bucky’s touch. 

He gasped against your lips, “We’re not doing anything wrong.” He reasoned, even though it took everything in him to hold back from ravaging you like a hungry beast. “Just kissing,” He mumbled, kissing you deeper, “I’m just kissing you. See?” 

You felt his mouth drift down to your jaw, your ear, your neck… and you couldn’t think straight anymore; your heartbeats rang in your ears, your legs felt numb, your mind was all foggy with desire while also fighting to make sense of what was happening. 

Bucky’s mouth drove you insane, his hands even more so as they slid under your shirt and groped and teased your breasts. 

“Fuck…” He groaned against your skin, kissing and biting like he could consume you. “Fuck!” He growled right in your ear; making you shiver, “Tell me to stop, please.” He begged, like he couldn’t stop on his own, his warm breath fanning the side of your face, “Tell me to fucking stop, I can’t-,” 

You cut him off by pushing him away and taking a few steps away from him yourself. Both of you breathing heavily, hearts racing, you couldn’t even look at him. Your face burned with a mixture of emotion, but mostly shame. 

“We can’t.” You said, monotonously. “We cannot do this, Buck.” 

You dared to look up at him and found him looking betrayed, and broken. Like he’d been stabbed and left to die. 

“Why can’t you see what I see?” He asked, breathing hard as well. “We deserve each other.” 

“Enough, Buck.” You shook your head. “You’re still young and you can’t see what I see.” 

Bucky scoffed, getting irritated, “Young?” He repeated like the word burned his mouth as he said it. Then he was irritated because you kept avoiding his eyes, “Look at me!” 

“I am!” You spat back, finally looking at him again, getting equally irritated - mostly at yourself. “I am looking at you, Bucky. And I cannot do this, we shouldn’t. Please.” 

Something about the look on his face told you that this wasn’t the last time you’d be having this conversation. Very few things stayed the same about Bucky as he grew up, one of those being his stubbornness. He was also very spoiled. 

He was quiet for a few seconds, then he asked, sounding as cocky as ever, “Do you hate me? Because the way you squirmed and moaned just now when I had my hands on your body? It didn’t feel like you hated me, nor my touch.” 

Hate him? He meant so much to you, couldn’t he see that? You carefully ignored the last part of what he said and answered sincerely, sighing, “No Bucky, I could never hate you and you know that.” Your lips were still tingly, like his mouth was still on yours. You wanted it to feel wrong so badly. 

He took a step forward, cornering you again. “Then is it someone else? Another man? Are you pushing me away because you’re seeing someone else?” He asked, looking every bit like a jealous lover of yours that he has no right to be. “And don’t you fucking lie to me.” You heard the growl hidden in his tone as he stepped closer, his body almost touching yours, “Is anyone else touching you when I’m not there?” 

“Oh shut up, Buck.” You stepped out of the way before he trapped you again. “You can’t talk to me like that.” You said, as firmly as you could. 

Bucky scoffed, “Oh yeah?” He stepped closer again, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close to him, “You didn’t seem to mind anything I did just now when I was about to bend you over that counter and-” 

“Enough!” You got out of his arms and slapped him across the face so hard that your eyes began watering immediately. Oh god, no… 

Bucky’s cheek turned red and the guilt made it hard for you to breathe. Your heart hurt more than it ever did. It hurt more after slapping him than it did when you thought about the past, or the life you could’ve had if the accident hadn’t happened. It hurt looking at his rapidly bruising cheek, knowing you struck him. 

What were you thinking? He was hurting too. So much that he probably wasn’t even thinking straight. And you slapped him? On top of all that? You couldn’t bear the look in his glossy eyes as he turned to look at you like the confused boy he used to be a long time ago.

Your tears streamed down your face, silently. You turned around and walked away, sobbing quietly as you made your way upstairs to hide in your room until later tonight. 

You were a mess even as you took a bath and changed into a comfy nightdress, thinking that maybe all that crying would put you to bed early. But no. Your mind just wouldn’t shut off. You skipped dinner obviously. You wouldn’t be able to look Bucky in the face, not tonight. 

You tried reading, but you couldn’t focus. You tried answering emails but you simply didn’t have the energy to deal with work right now. So you just laid in bed and watched the ceiling. Your tears had dried up and there was none left, there was just guilt. 

You’d gotten into the habit of caring for Bucky that there was nothing more you wanted to do than to just hug him and apologise for hurting him. Then maybe try and explain to him why this thing between you two would be wrong. 

Another hour went by and the house was eerily quiet. You had only one fear for now, that you would wake up the next morning and find the house empty and Bucky would be gone, and that you might lose him forever. You sent a silent thought and apology to his deceased parents, some of the best friends you’d ever have, I’m sorry, I don’t know how to care for him. 

Just then, you heard two soft knocks on your door. And the fear solidified inside of you. Is he here to say goodbye? As you walked over to the bedroom door to open it, you were almost certain you’d see him all dressed up with his bags packed, ready to walk out the front door. And if that were the case, you wouldn’t know how to stop him. This pushing and pulling that’s been going on for the past two days has to stop at some point. But what then? Would you lose Bucky forever? You couldn’t bear the thought of that. 

You opened the door with a heavy heart, holding your breath. But all you found on the other side was the same Bucky from earlier. Dressed in his sweatpants, the icing sugar wiped off of his bare chest, that bruise forming on his cheek now darker but something was different. He had a look in his eyes. Not stubbornness, but determination. He wasn’t angry anymore. He gave you a soft look which only made you feel worse. 

You sniffled, not realising that you’d been tearing up looking at the bruise on his face. 

“Can I come in?” There was a hint of coldness like you’d never heard before in his voice. Like it was void of any emotion at all. But it was all a mask, you knew. He was hiding so much. How come you never saw just how much he was hiding all the time? 

You didn’t trust your voice enough to speak so you just nodded quickly and opened the door wider to let him into the spacious bedroom. He walked in and when you shut the door behind you, he turned to look at you with an apologetic look on his face. Even though it was you who was supposed to apologise this time. 

You kept wringing your hands, keeping your eyes low on the ground and unable to look at him. Your eyes watered again. But when he cleared his throat, you looked up at him instinctively. 

His stare softened and he opened his arms for you gently. “Come here,” He whispered, like you were the one who needed comforting. 

You sniffled and rushed into his arms, wrapping your arms around him and crying silently into the crook of his neck. “Oh Bucky…” You sobbed, “I’m so sorry for hitting you, honey. I don’t know what happened. I- I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to, I just-,” 

“Shh,” He cut you off, hugging you securely. “It’s okay. I was being out of line.” 

You pulled away to look up at him with teary eyes, “I’m sorry.” You carefully reached out to touch his red cheek, “I know it hurts, I’m really sorry.” 

Bucky gave you a soft smile, “I told you it’s fine.” He wiped the warm tear which fell down your cheek and said, “We need to talk.” 

You nodded, slowly stepping out of his embrace. “Yes, we do.” You pointed at the two couches in the corner of the room and began walking over there when Bucky grabbed your hand and stopped you. 

Standing in the middle of the dimly lit room, he said out of nowhere, “I’m in love with you. And there’s nothing I can nor want to do to change that.” 

Well that came out of nowhere. 

You sighed, promising yourself to stay calm and collected while navigating this delicate situation. You stared into his familiar blue eyes and took a deep breath before you spoke.

“Bucky… I know how it feels when you think you want something so badly. Especially when it’s something you know you shouldn’t want.” He was surprisingly quiet so you kept talking, “When I was younger, I thought the world belonged to me too. I thought it was mine for the taking and I thought I could just have whatever I wanted if I desired it passionately enough.” You inched closer, then refrained from touching his face fondly. “But then, you grow up to find that at some point, you need to consider other factors before you just take.” 

He shook his head, “You’re not listening to me. I said I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time and I can’t hide it anymore.” 

You sighed again, “Buck, you can’t be. This cannot happen, okay? Just please, don’t make this difficult for the both of us. You’re still so young, you don’t know what you’re doing.” 

He argued immediately, in a bitter tone, “Don’t invalidate my feelings. And don’t talk to me like I’m a child.” 

That made you feel worse, “I’m not.” You couldn’t help but cup his cheek affectionately like you did so many times throughout the years. “Honey… how do I explain this to you?” You shook your head, feeling your lashes getting wet with tears again. “The years I’ve known your parents were some of the best years of my life. We were all-,” Your voice cracked and Bucky noticed the way you trembled, “We were more than a group of friends, we were a family, especially here. I can’t betray them like this.” 

Bucky gently wrapped his hand around your wrist, keeping your palm pressed to his face and he leaned into your touch just barely. “Betray them?” He asked, in that same cold tone as earlier. 

“Bucky…” You trailed off, not knowing what to say to that. You tried to pull your hand back but he wouldn’t let you. 

Bucky kept going, “They left.” He said, like he was stating a fact. “We buried them, remember? We buried them together, you and I. They’re gone, long gone.” 

You shook your head, “Parts of them live here, Bucky. Why do you think I keep coming back to this place?” 

“I’m not asking you to forget them.” He clarified. “I don’t want to forget them. But we’re allowed to move on with our lives, are we not? Don’t you think they would want us to take care of each other?” 

“Not like this, Buck. You don’t understand, you’re-,” 

“What?” He scoffed, cutting you off, “I’m what? Too young? Too wild? I’m immature and I don’t understand the way the world works yet?” He scoffed again, “Do you know how broken I was when I left for uni after mom and dad?” 

You sniffled, then said, “I know, honey, I-,” 

He cut you off again, tightening his grip on your wrist, “No you don’t. You don’t know because you weren’t there.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, just sad. 

You listened to each word carefully. 

“I missed them so much, but I also missed you. I wanted to die. I felt alone and I thought I could never have you, thought I’d never even see you again. I knew your heart was broken because you loved him, and you could never love me like that.” He paused. “Then I thought maybe you’d never want to be back here again, that you’d want nothing to do with me because maybe I’d keep reminding you of what happened. I thought I lost you too.” 

He paused again, wiping yet another silent tear which fell down your cheek. 

“I was having all sorts of messed up thoughts. I kept thinking about how I should’ve been involved in the accident instead of mom and dad.” That made you sob but he kept going, he needed to let it all out today, “Because would’ve been a win-win for me, right? My parents would be safe, I wouldn’t have to watch the woman I love marry another man because he’d be dead too.” 

You cried silently, not knowing whether to pull him in for a hug or to pull away from him. There was a glazed look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t there. 

“But those thoughts were fucked up and scary. That’s when I knew I needed therapy.” When he looked into your eyes, the glazed look in his eyes wasn't there anymore. He continued, “So I got plenty of it, and it helped somewhat. I started taking care of myself again. But I was still so lonely. And then you reached out that same year, asking me to come back here for Christmas just so we can have some sort of normalcy in our lives.” He said, looking down at you with those soft blue eyes. “You saved me.” 

You sighed shakily, your voice cracking as you spoke. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve reached out sooner.” You sobbed. “I’m so sorry, Buck.” 

He shook his head. “You were hurting too. But you reached out just in time. I know how it sounds but I need you to know that I’m not just saying it, I mean it when I say I love you. I probably wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You’re all I have left,” He said, repeating what he said the other night. 

Your heart was breaking all over again. “Bucky…” 

“You need someone to take care of you too.” He murmured, leaning closer until his lips brushed against your forehead when he spoke, “The people we loved, they’re gone. But you and I? We’re still here, aren’t we?” His voice was so soft now, whispering he pleaded, “Live, with me.” Then added, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Let me show you how good we can be together.” His mouth moved down from your temple, slowly down your tear-stained cheek, until it reached the corner of your mouth. “I can take care of you.” He whispered, “Let me.” 

You were still silently crying. Mainly because it felt bad to admit that he might be right. Ever since the accident, and all the losses which followed, your life had come to a stop. You were just working and surviving each day. And repeat. Endlessly for years now. Coming to the lake house was your only escape but even then, days spent here hurt too. In a good way at times, but still hurt. 

“I don’t know how, Buck.” You sniffled. “It just hurts. I don’t know if I can make it stop. Or if I should.” 

“You deserved to be happy. To be loved, and taken care of. And so do I.” He said, cupping your face to make you look at him, “Don’t you think they would want us to be happy and stop hurting?” 

You blinked and more tears fell down your face, “I’m scared.” You admitted, both your hands wrapping around his wrists for support because your legs felt weak.  

Bucky leaned in and kissed you on the corner of your mouth as he wiped your tears away, “Scared of what, baby? Tell me.” 

It took a while for you to formulate what you wanted to say. But Bucky was patient. He was quiet, just kissing your face until you could finally talk. 

“To let go…” You sighed, “I’m not used to it not hurting. I… forgot what it was like before the- before the whole thing happened and now I’m scared, Buck. What if we’re disrespecting them?”  

“I don’t mean to sound heartless but we’ve got to understand that they’re not here anymore. You and I are. And we need each other. We’re barely alive when we’re far from each other, far from this place. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be here together.” He spoke softly still. “It’s time now. Just, let go. I’m right here. I’ll catch you.” His mouth was just an inch away from yours as he whispered sincerely, “Let go, baby. I promise I’m right here.” 

So you did. 

You shut your brain down for a moment and leaned in to close the gap between your mouths. You kissed him. 

Bucky’s hands drifted down your body until they grabbed you by the waist and pulled you further into him. Your hands slid into his soft hair as he deepened the kiss, urging you to walk backwards. Towards the bed. 

You barely made it there, Bucky was already making you whine and moan with how gently but lovingly he touched you everywhere he could. 

“This little thing is killing me,” He said, tugging on your thin, satin nightdress. “Can I take it off of you? Please?” He breathed into your open mouth, before kissing you again as he waited for a reply.  

“Yes,” You said, breathless already. Though a little nervous since you knew there was nothing beneath the nightdress. 

But Bucky knew that already. Which is why he just about tore the thing off of your body. He then took his time admiring and caressing every inch of your body before he carefully pushed you down on the bed behind you. And he was on top of you in a heartbeat. 

“How am I supposed to behave when you walk around the house looking this good, huh?” He held himself up above you with one hand, while the other explored your now bare body. 

He was barely touching you where you desperately needed him to but you were already moaning and squirming under him. 

“Look at me.” He demanded. 

You did. You opened your eyes and stared right up into those wild ocean blue ones. 

Bucky smiled, then leaned to kiss you again. “Tell me you want me,” He whispered against your mouth as you arched your back because his fingers were dangerously close to your dripping folds. 

“Fuck… I want you, Bucky. Please…” 

He smirked against your lips, his fingers moving up your inner thighs until he found your wet folds. He parted then with his finger gently, sliding his two fingers up and down before teasing your hole, applying just enough pressure to make you whine under him. 

“Is this okay?” He asked, pushing one finger inside you. His voice was deeper than usual which made you shiver. 

You were breathless as you slowly slid your fingers into his soft, dark hair, “Yes,” You whimpered. “Yes, please…” You had stopped thinking about anything other than this moment right here. Let go… let go… let go… 

Bucky kissed your neck while he slid his finger in and out of you, stroking you just right until you were a whimpering mess beneath him. Only then did he added another finger and your moans got louder and louder. 

He stared deep into your eyes as he spoke softly like he was coaxing you, “My fingers feel good, don’t they?” He asked. “I know they do.” He cooed. “You see what I mean? If you let me take care of you, you can have this every day. In fact, multiple times a day. Whenever you want, baby.” 

You whined even louder at the sound of those words, unable to help it. And Bucky loved that sound so much he almost gave it right there and then. But he didn’t want to make you come yet, so he brought you right on the edge and removed his fingers. 

You whined in frustration but then felt his mouth gradually move down your body, kissing down your neck, nibbling and biting down your collarbones and teasing your breasts, taking each nipple in his mouth and sucking on it until you squealed in pleasure. He kissed down your stomach, your hips, your thighs… until he knelt in between your bare legs and stared up at you.

“Will you let me taste you?” He asked, looking like he was having a hard time holding back from devouring you. 

You answered by lifting your upper body up onto your elbows, grabbing him carefully by the back of his head and gently urging his mouth down on you. 

You moaned when you felt him smirk against your wetness, his tongue darting out to lick you, parting your folds leisurely with his warm, eager tongue. 

He placed his hands on both your thighs and spread your legs further apart, pressing his soft, warm mouth further into you. The sight of his head of thick, black hair in between your thighs was not something you ever wanted to forget. 

“You taste so good.” He murmured, looking up at you with those pretty blue eyes, rubbing his lips all over your wet folds. His voice alone made you squirm and whine. “Tell me how good my tongue feels.” He said, parting your folds even more so he could lick deeper inside you. 

It felt like you were losing your mind, unable to form a coherent thought. 

When you didn’t answer right away, Bucky pulled away and gave you a playful bite on your inner thigh. “Tell me.” He repeated, refusing to go back to eating you out until you told him what he wanted to hear. 

You cried in frustration before whispering, “Oh you feel so good, Buck. So fucking good… and I want more, please, I want more,” You whined, feeling your wetness slowly dripping out of you while he watched shamelessly. 

He smirked, bringing his mouth down on you again. His warm, wet tongue made you whine and squirm even more as he held you there, open for him, feasting on you as he pleased. 

Your loud moans didn’t bother him. The way you tugged on his hair only made him lick deeper into you. He brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you cry out. 

“So good…” he whispered, more so to himself as he kept making you moan louder and louder just with his tongue. “Better than I ever imagined…” 

All you could focus on was how he slowly brought a finger up to your folds, sliding it slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds before he slid a finger inside you again, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit. 

When you arched your back, feeling his finger stroke you deep inside, Bucky pulled away and asked, “Am I the first man to touch you here in all these years? Is my finger the first thing to ever touch you here in a really long time? Hmm?” 

Good god. 

“Yes,” You whispered, breathless and wanting, moving your hips in slow circles as he fingered you, touching sensitive places you’d forgotten even knew existed. 

You saw the look of primal pride in his eyes at the sound of that ‘yes’. Possessive and territorial. He kept his eyes focused on yours as he thrust his finger slightly deeper inside. 

“Good.” He said, in a deep, gravelly voice. He kept his eyes on yours as he leaned down to press his mouth to your clit again, his tongue teasing your clit as he finger-fucked you until you squirmed and moaned and gasped under his touch. “Let go baby, come for me.” He murmured gently. 

You moaned out loud, your eyes closing and your head tilting back as you came hard, all over his tongue, your walls clenching violently around his finger, your moans and gasps of pleasure filled the room. 

The outside world was long forgotten. This bedroom was your entire world right now. 

You couldn’t help but smile faintly in bliss as Bucky left small kisses up your body, coming up to loom above you again. He stared deep into your eyes. And you wanted him so bad it hurt. 

“See how easy that was?” He said, smiling down at you as his knuckles caressed your cheek. “Should we do that again?” 

Nodding and breathless, you murmured, “Yes…” 

Bucky chuckled. “I love you so much,” He whispered, giving you a quick kiss before pulling away to take off his sweatpants. Then he was onto you again, pressing you down on the soft bed sheets as he kissed you again. 

His fingers found themselves in between your legs again, spreading your wetness around as much as possible before he began stroking himself, bringing the tip of his cock closer to your hole. He purposely slid his tip up and down your folds, making your back arch and making you whine into the kiss. 

“I’m gonna make it feel good, baby,” He whispered against your mouth. “I’m gonna make it stop hurting, you hear me? I promise you I’ll make it stop hurting. And I’m gonna take care of you. Forever.” He kissed your face, whispering his promises into your ear while you whined and squirmed under him. 

His body weight on top of you was comforting in ways you couldn’t describe. It felt like this is where you always wanted to be. 

Bucky kept teasing you, sliding his cock up and down your slit, leaning down to brush his lips against yours just so he could swallow your moans and it was torture. 

“Please,” You whispered into the kiss before biting down on his lip and sucking on it. “Please, fuck me.” You murmured again. “I can’t take this anymore.” 

Bucky leaned in for a proper kiss, his tattooed hand wrapping around your throat gently as he slowly slipped his cock inside of you, groaning as he went. His lean, warm body pressing down onto you as he gradually slid in. breathless as well, he said, “You won’t believe how many times I’ve fantasised about you saying those words to me.” He sighed, pushing further into you. “I was too young then, I didn’t know how to make it good for you.” He said, chuckling to himself, “But I do now.” 

You moaned as you felt him stretching you, filling you up. Every inch of him sliding into your tight hole and filling a void. You cried out when he struggled to fit in at first, and he had to gently force his cock in. 

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s just me, baby.” He whispered, “Let me in, it’s okay.” He held your stare as he reached down to grab your legs and wrapped them around his waist, then slowly leaned down to give you another kiss.

“That’s it, you’re doing so well.” He whispered against your mouth. “Your body will get used to me in no time.” 

You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he moved his hips the slightest bit. You whined and moaned at the unfamiliar but pleasurable feeling of his cock slowly moving in and out of you.

Bucky let out a growl when he felt your walls clenching around him as he sped up and pounded into you. He kept moving rapidly in and out of you to the point where the only thing you could focus on was the feeling of him moving against your body. No shame. No guilt. Just this feeling. There was no turning back now and this felt right. Oh God, it felt right. 

“Look at how well you take my cock.” Then he let out a chuckle which made you shiver underneath him. His words only made you clench around him harder. He kissed along your cheek, “You feel so good.” He whispered into your ear, pounding into you relentlessly, as he bent down to bite your neck. “You feel like a perfect dream.” He breathed against your warm skin. 

You moaned at how perfect his muscular body felt against yours. His hair tickled your cheek as he moved. Your legs trembled as you wrapped them tighter around his waist. 

“I feel good inside you, don’t I? Hmm?” His thrusts were relentless and unbearably good. 

You closed your eyes as you felt the pressure around your lower body; tight and hot. It had been so long since you’d been with someone that the feeling was almost foreign. 

“Look at you,” He whispered, “You look fucking beautiful with my cock inside of you.” The possessiveness in his voice only made you clench around him again. “You’re gonna take all of me, won’t you?” He said, kissing your skin. “All of my cum deep inside that womb, huh? Maybe you’ll even carry my baby. Fuck I can see you already, all pretty and swollen. We’ll make our own family together, won’t we?” 

You nodded, unable to say because of how good he felt sliding in and out of you. You could barely think straight. 

“Well then,” his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it gently while he pounded into you faster than earlier, “Come for me.” 

And that was all you needed to hear before you came undone all around him. Whimpering and back arching off the bed as you came hard around his cock.

He kept pounding into you as your orgasm washed over you, your walls squeezing him violently. Your body trembling under his intense gaze. He watched you in awe, lips parted, breaths in rags, heart racing. 

But he wasn’t done yet. 

He pulled out and flipped you around, your hips and ass up while your face was pressed against the soft pillows on the bed. 

You were still catching your breath when his hand reached around and teased in between your legs, his fingers rubbed around your clit and made you tremble and moan before he was even inside you again. 

His body bent over yours, his warm chest pressing against your back as he kissed your shoulder and the back of your neck until his mouth reached your ear, “You’re all mine now, you hear me?” 

You could hear the untamed hunger in his deep, low voice. You whimpered, “All yours.” You murmured, voice laced with need and lust as he pulled away from your ear and kissed along your shoulders.

Then you felt his hands on you as he gripped each side of your hips then pushed into you from behind. “There, you feel that? That’s your man fucking you.” He whispered fucking you with slow and deliberate strokes. “Your man who’s gonna take care of you from now on. You don’t have to worry about a single thing, you hear me? I’m here now. I’ve got you, baby.” 

Your fingers desperately tried to grip the fabric beneath you tightly, and your mind felt foggy, you moaned wantonly as he pounded into you, not easing into it this time. He took you higher and higher. 

Your walls throbbed and clenched around him each time he filled you up. With a few more strokes of his thick cock, you felt his thrust becoming irregular, and felt his cock throb against your walls violently. “Come for me again.” 

You tightened around him immediately - coming undone again as you felt him come deep inside you, filling you up and groaning right into your ear as he did. The sounds of his growls and moans made you shiver under him. 

“I’ve got you, baby.” He murmured, settling down in bed and spooning you from behind, keeping his still semi-hard cock buried inside you. He wrapped his arms around you and his voice lulled you to sleep as he whispered sweet promises into your ear. “I’ve got you now, don’t worry. I’m here…” 

—

When you woke up the next morning, Bucky was still asleep next to you. It took great effort to untangle yourself from his embrace without waking him up. 

You took a minute or two to look at the bite marks and scratches all over his neck and chest, and you waited. You waited for the guilt to come flooding in, for the shame to suffocate you. You waited for it to feel wrong. But it didn’t. 

You quietly made your way to the bathroom and did your usual morning routine; showered, brushed, got dressed in warm clothes. And then you stepped outside on the balcony as soundlessly as possible. 

The forest around you seemed greener today. The wind felt more crisp than usual. The lake was more beautiful than it had ever been. The mountains seemed more magical than ever. It was like the world felt lighter and livelier around you this morning. Or maybe it had always been this way and you were just looking at it with a less broken heart this morning. 

You closed your eyes for a moment, then you heard him walking up to you. Bucky wrapped a soft blanket around the two of you and hugged you from behind. He nuzzled your neck until it tickled and you laughed pulling away a little. 

“Don’t scare me like that,” He said in his deep, morning voice. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed, I thought you left me.” He pouted a little. 

You smiled faintly, looking down at the lake. “You know I could never leave you, Buck.” 

He tightened his grip around you and smiled so bright it warmed you inside. “Because you love me?” 

You chuckled, “Because I love you.” 

He swayed the two of you side to side gently. Then his hand came up to rest on top of your belly and you felt him tense up behind you before he spoke up, “I know I said some things last night. And I would never force you to do anything but I need you to know that I was serious. I do want… all that with you. Like how I want everything with you. Not right now but, someday.” 

You turned around to face him, your hands on his shoulders. Bucky’s blue eyes made any restlessness, any doubt go away. “Someday.” You agreed. 

He smiled again and it made the world brighter than earlier. “You and I, we’ll make it, won’t we?” 

You leaned in and hugged him, resting your forehead on his chest, breathing in his scent and relishing his warmth. Something fit into place as you did. Like a missing piece slotting back into place. So you said, confidently, “We will, Buck.” 

—

Fin. 

a/n: psst, they did make it till the end ;) 

[wheresarizona]

Learning to Live Part 19

summary: It’s Monday morning, and you’re watching Javier get ready for work (and interrupting him). Will you be able to keep your hands off him once the suit is on?

rating: E (18+!! This is literally just domestic fluff and smut. No y/n, age gap (about 10 years), Soft Javier Peña, Javier Peña in a suit, oral sex (m receiving), titty fucking, anal play (m receiving), deepthroating, comeplay, spitting, dirty talk, praise kink (there’s a good boy), domestic fluff, argument, anxiety, so much banter, Javier teaches you how to tie his tie, you choose what he wears)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 9.5k+

a/n: Hello there! Here’s the deal, this was supposed to be the beginning of a very important chapter, but I wrote too much, so now, this is part 1 of 2. I’m already pretty deep in writing part 2. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul, for betaing.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

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The snooze button was essential when you shared a bed with Javier Peña.

The alarm would go off, and suddenly you would find yourself being wrapped up in long arms, sometimes with his naked body pressed to yours from behind, or face to face, his mouth zeroing in on yours to languidly kiss you until you were rudely interrupted by the incessant beeping once more, and it really was time to get up.

You savored those nine sleepy minutes where it was just the two of you tangled together in the warm cocoon of your shared bed, cuddling close as you slowly awoke—they were the best.

It was a Monday morning, and so early, the sky outside was still dark, waking up at your usual time during the week with Javi. You’d already taken your turn in the bathroom and thrown on one of his plain white t-shirts over your naked body, now sitting on the edge of the bed, facing the direction of the dressers and closet, waiting for him to come out of the bathroom door in your line of sight.

You were vibrating with excitement, straightening in your seat when the door finally opened, and your naked boyfriend walked into the room—his face was still a little puffy from sleep, the brown hair a mess atop his head, his chest, and up his gorgeous neck littered with hickies, new and old, one you sucked right over his pulse point the night before that was starting to purple. He yawned, stretching his arms over his head, stopping in his tracks when his attention landed on your still form.

His hand scratched his soft belly with a confused expression, his voice deeper and huskier from disuse, asking, “What’s going on?”

Usually when he came out of the bathroom, you were in the process of getting dressed, and he’d join you, but today was special.

“I took the day off,” you answered immediately.

“Why…?”

His hands moved to perch on his hips, stepping one foot forward to have all his weight on the back leg, your attention shifting to his knee on display, finding yourself thinking it was appealing to the eye and somehow sexy. That thought had you taken aback for a second, wondering how in the world knees could be sexy. You’ve never given them attention before, and suddenly they were turning you on like a Victorian man catching a glimpse of ankle.

What was wrong with you?

The answer was simple: you had it bad for this man—you were so truly, madly, deeply in love with him you were thirsting over his joints.

“I didn’t want to miss the show…” you answered distractedly.

“What show?”

You met his gaze, smiling as you pointed at him. “The one you’re gonna put on getting dressed for your first day of work. It’s like the opposite of stripping but gets me just as horny, so I don’t want to miss anything.” You winked.

He smirked, his eyes shining in delight. “You took the day off to watch me get dressed, baby?”

“Um, of course, babe. This is momentous—I’m seeing you in a suit for the first time.”

Chuckling, he walked over to where you were sitting, his hands sinking into the mattress on either side of you as he bent down, his breath minty as he kissed your lips, his smooth jaw cradled in your palms.

“I fucking love you,” he said when you broke apart, meeting your eyes with a smile.

“I fucking love you, too,” you replied with a matching look.

He leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“You’re cute.”

“I try.” You pecked his lips. “Now, hurry up—” You said, rubbing your hands up his naked ribs, his skin warm beneath your palms. “You’re gonna be late.”

He glanced over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, his eyebrows knitting together.

“I don’t have to be there for another hour and forty-five minutes…” he said slowly.

“Yeah, but you gotta get dressed, do your hair, have breakfast, drink your coffee, get your dick sucked…”

His head quickly swiveled back toward you. “Get my dick sucked?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his tongue peeking out as it swiped over his bottom lip.

Crookedly smiling with your own eyebrow raised, you answered, “Javi, you honestly think I’m gonna let you leave this room without sucking your dick?”

“Right…now…?” He looked hopeful.

“Nope—I’ve been fantasizing about doing it while you’re all dressed up.” You wagged your eyebrows.

“Fuck,” he breathed, noticing his cock was already half-hard.

“I’m very excited. Now hurry!”

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, quickly kissing you before he stood up with a groan, making his way over to his dresser and opening the top drawer.

“I see suits are an undies occasion,” you said, watching him put on white boxer briefs.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling them over his ass, the stretchy material hugging his thighs. He turned so you could see his front, the noticeable bulge making your mouth water. He snorted, smirking as he said, “My eyes are up here, Cielito.”

Your gazes met, him pointing at his beautiful chocolate-colored eyes.

“Yeah, they are, but I’m ogling your dick before you put on pants. Just look at it, ” you marveled, extending your finger at his groin. “It’s so big. You know what underwear does to me.”

His tone was amused, his chest puffing up a little, “I know, baby.”

He grabbed his bottle of cologne atop his dresser that was near his watch, his spare pair of aviators, and the small burl wood jewelry box with rose inlays decorating the lid where his mother’s rosary was stored.

“Damn, you’re going all out,” you said, him spraying some on his pulse points, chest, and neck. “You are going to be the sexiest and best-smelling man in that office.”

“Yeah?” he asked, the cap getting put on the glass container and set back down.

“Oh, yeah,” you answered. “Don’t know if I’ll be able to visit you at work.”

“Why’s that?”

“You in a suit? An office with a door? A desk? That is a recipe for me getting bent over said desk and dicked down.”

“You fucking exhibitionist.” He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “Pot calling the kettle. I’d never had sex in public before you—you’re a fucking exhibitionist, too! And don’t act like your dick didn’t just get harder at what I said. I can see it!”

His cheeks had pinked up, clearing his throat. “It’s all I’m gonna fucking think about while I’m there.”

“Good,” you sniffed.

“You, uh, wanna come by on my lunch?”

“Javier, we are not fucking in your new office, at your new job, on literally your first day.” He frowned, his shoulders slumping. “—it’s something we wait until we have a lay of the land, you know?” He perked back up. “Figure out when there’s the least amount of people there, and you can make sure the door has a lock. We gotta prep, and then I’ll stop by for an office quickie.”

“I love you so fucking much,” he said.

“I love you, too.” You grinned. “I used to be so innocent, only knowing the touch of a man on a bed or couch, and now you’ve turned me into some kind of sex fiend who wants it everywhere.”

He huffed out an amused breath, smiling. “Baby, you gave me a hand job in my truck on our first date—you’ve never been fucking innocent.”

“Um, because it was you,” you said, pointing at him again. “The only man on earth I’d risk jail for.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and you know it. Hurry, and get ready. Your dick is taunting me.”

He looked down at it. “‘Cause it’s hard?”

“Yes, and not in my mouth.”

His eyes met yours. “Okay, mi amor (my love), I’ll finish getting dressed,” he said, moving to walk over to the closet that was directly across the room from you. You saw the defined muscles in his back and the broadness of his shoulders contrasting with his tiny waist, and the dimensions kind of reminded you of a…

“Dorito!” you said out loud.

He slid the closet door open, looking over his shoulder as he asked, “What?”

“Your shoulder-to-waist ratio is ridiculous—it’s a triangle.” Your hand was held out, drawing it in the air with your finger. “You’re Dorito-shaped.”

A furrow appeared between his eyebrows.

“What…?”

“The chip? A Dorito? The cheesy triangles, you’re shaped like one of them.”

“Is that good…?”

“Yes.” You smiled. “It’s very good—it’s very sexy. I love how you look so much, like my god, your back makes me wet.”

His eyebrow arched.

“Just my back?”

“You got me there—all of you makes me wet.”

“That’s better.” His attention went back to the clothes. “Which one do you want me to wear?” he asked, hearing the squeak of him moving hangers on the rod.

“I get to pick?”

“Of course—you’ve been fantasizing about it. Which one?”

Arousal was simmering in your belly that he was willing to play out your fantasy.

“Navy blue.”

The squeaking got louder as the hangers were moved forcefully before he pulled out a garment bag and a white dress shirt from his ridiculous collection of button-ups hanging in the closet.

He walked back over to where you were sitting, setting them on the bed beside you. Your eyes were on him, watching in fascination as he went over to his dresser to use his stick of antiperspirant deodorant sitting on top of it, returning to put on the dress shirt, noting it was a little tight on him in the shoulders and arms when he finished deftly buttoning it up. Javi’s mouth was turned down in a frown, and his eyebrows creased while unzipping the bag and pulling out the folded pants hanging over the hanger. The slacks were also a little tight on him when he pulled them on, the material stretching over his ass and around his thighs, his half-hard dick not helping, tucking in his shirt before getting them zipped and buttoned.

“Babe…?”

He looked at you. “Yes, Cielito?”

“You’re in great shape. Were you less muscly in Colombia?”

Thinking back on the pictures of him and Steve you’ve seen, he had been slimmer but still very broad.

He let out a long sigh, pressing his fingers to his forehead. “You can tell I’ve gained weight.”

“Well, based on the fact you went from an office job to doing manual labor for a year and a half, it’s safe to say you’ve bulked up in the muscle department, though I’ll take the blame for that ass.” You grinned.

His hand dropped. “What do you mean?”

“Have you noticed your jeans have maybe gotten tighter than usual since we started dating?”

He thought about it for a second. “...yeah?”

“I’ve been feeding you well.”

“You’re the reason my ass is big?”

Your eyes narrowed. “Your ass is perfect, thank you very much, and I do help you get your cardio in so you look fucking fantastic.”

He smirked. “Yeah, you help with my cardio, alright.” He leaned down, one hand on the bed next to you for support as he pressed his lips to yours, the other palming your breast through his shirt. He smelled so good, his spicy cologne hitting you hard, getting hints of citrus and a nice musk.

“Javi–” you giggled into his mouth, him not seeming to care since he kept kissing you. He nipped at your lip, and your breath hitched, stifling your moan—your fingers pushed into his messy hair, seeming to forget everything except his mouth on yours.

It slowed to a stop, and he pulled back, you chasing his lips which made him smile.

“I have to finish getting ready,” he said just above a whisper.

You remembered now what you both were doing, ignoring the arousal pooling in your belly.

“Yes, so I can suck your dick,” you replied.

“Yes,” he chuckled, standing up and holding out his hand to you. “Come with me.” You took it, letting him pull you up, him holding your hand as he guided you over to his dresser. He opened the black rectangular wooden tie box that had twelve compartments, pulling out his rolled-up belt, moving out of your way as he said, “Pick out my tie, mi amor (my love).” He was working the black leather through the belt loops around his waist.

Your eyes took in the selection. There were ten of various patterns and color schemes, chewing on your lip while gazing at them, thinking which one would look best, and settling on a red one. You plucked it from the case, unrolling it to see it was a deep red with ovals on it that reminded you of drawn blood cells.

“This one,” you answered, turning to face him and holding it out.

He’d finished getting his belt on, taking the offered tie with a warm smile.

“You wanna tie it?”

Your eyes widened. “I mean, I have an idea of how to do it, but I’d probably do a terrible job.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Come here, and I’ll teach you.”

“Okay,” you said, stepping forward to have your bodies a hair’s breadth apart.

His voice went lower, raspier, his gaze on you as he draped it around his neck, saying, “Eyes on my hands.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied, seeing his throat work as he swallowed. You were looking where he indicated, his big hands holding each side of the silk.

Clearing his throat, he said in a deep timbre, “You want the wide side—” He raised his left hand showing it to you. “—longer than the narrow side.” He lifted his right, then adjusted them how he instructed, his eyes staying on you, your own watching what he was doing. “Cross the wide one over and around to behind the narrow one—” His hands were doing the steps as he told you what to do. “—then over and through the neck hole, wrapping it across the front of the other and up under the neck, where you push it through the loop here at the front.” He pulled the wide part through the loop, one hand delicately holding the knot, the other on the tie as he wiggled it, pulling on the length to tighten it where he wanted. “It’s easy. You wanna try?”

You looked at him. “And ruin this gorgeous handiwork?” you asked, running your finger down the silk. “I can do it tomorrow.”

“Or you can do it right now because I want you to.”

Your eyebrows lifted up to your hairline. “Wow, you put on a suit, and suddenly you’re Mr. Bossy Pants.”

He smirked. “I am wearing my bossy pants—now, please tie my tie, mi amor (my love).” He was already undoing what he’d done until the fabric rested on either side of his chest.

“Fine, Jefe (Boss),” you replied, taking the buttery soft material into each of your hands. A look of concentration was on your face as you recalled the steps, quickly adjusting it so the wider side was longer than the other, then doing as he told you, surprised when you’d actually made a pretty okay-looking knot. “There—” you said. “It’s not as pretty as yours, but it’s also not as awful as I thought it’d be—you can tighten it.” Your hands patted over his pecs, finally meeting his gaze, his eyes crinkled at the edges, looking beyond happy.

“It’s perfect.”

Snorting, you replied, “You haven’t even looked at it.”

His head tilted down as he lifted the loosened tie to see it. Dropping it, he said, “It’s still perfect.” His eyes were on yours as he gingerly held your knot, wiggling it as he pulled on the length to tighten it, his hands moving up to ensure his collar was in place. “How do I look?”

You crookedly smiled, keeping your gaze on his. “Perfect.”

He pinched your hip, making you giggle. “Smartass, you haven’t looked.”

You took him in then—the messy hair, his perfectly trimmed mustache, the rest of his face clean-shaven, the white dress shirt wrinkling a little over his chest from being a tad tight, the blood-red tie down his front, and the navy blue pants hugging his hips, and it all combined had your skin suddenly feeling hot, your dream from the other night coming back to you of him as a detective.

He looked good, really good.

You met his eyes. “I am so sorry, but I have to.” He had a confused expression, your hand gripping the tie and tugging his head closer, Javi grunting as you crashed your mouth to his. You felt his smile as you kissed him, his arms hugging you into his body, moaning when his tongue pushed between your lips to tangle with your own.

God, you loved him—you loved this, spending your morning with your boyfriend, watching him get ready, and interrupting the process with kisses. Add in him having you pick out his outfit and teaching you how to tie his tie, and you were a fucking goner. Somehow, you’d fallen even more in love with him, wishing he had something more than just you tying his tie to have you with him through his day, your brain picturing a ring on his left hand, the image igniting a fire in your belly.

Your lungs began to protest, the kissing slowing until he gave you one last peck, panting as he pulled back to look at you with a smile.

“So, I look good…?” he asked through heavy breaths.

You playfully slapped his chest, laughing. “Yes, you look really fucking good, and I can’t wait to blow you.”

He released you from his arms, nodding. “I better hurry then.”

“Please do.” You stepped out of his way, your attention on him as he pushed up his left sleeve, grabbing his silver watch from atop the dresser, sliding it over his hand and onto his wrist, finally clasping it into place. He checked the time before pushing the sleeve back down, him looking in the tie box and pulling out one cufflink he put on with practiced ease, followed by the other.

Anticipation was swelling inside you at how close you were to seeing him fully dressed.

He turned toward you. “I have to do my hair,” he said. He had a bad case of bedhead, it sticking up in all directions.

“Sounds good,” you replied, following him as he headed for the bathroom.

The suit pants were snug on his ass, and you couldn’t keep yourself from giving it a hard smack, Javi jumping.

“Really?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Really.” You grinned, walking into the smaller room, him flipping on the lights.

“You know paybacks a bitch, right?” he asked, standing in front of the sink and using his right hand to pull open his drawer to grab his wide-tooth comb and jar of pomade that he set on the countertop.

You took up the space on his left side, resting your hip against the counter. “Worth it,” you replied as you watched him.

Within the first few days of dating Javi, you quickly learned he was very particular in how he styled his hair—his comb and pomade found a home in your bathroom a day after his toothbrush did, so he always looked his best when he left your apartment.

That was a thing about him—he cared a lot about his looks, what he wore, his hair, his mustache. You’d think with how much he fussed over himself, he’d be annoyed with you messing up his hair or rumpling his clothes, but it never bothered him because it was you doing it. He happily walked around with hair you tried to fix with your fingers and wore the hickies you left on his neck with pride, wanting people to know he was taken, Javi always taking your hand or wrapping an arm around you when you were out in public so there was no doubt you were together.

He turned on the sink, using his hands to slide water into his hair to make it damp. Then it was time for the pomade, him unscrewing the cap and scooping some of the white substance onto his index finger, strategically getting the lid screwed back on sans the one digit. There was a serious expression on his face as he rubbed his hands together, coating them in the cream.

Javier wasn’t sure how to feel about wearing a suit again; there wasn’t any nervousness or excitement. Honestly, he was just indifferent—here he goes, working in law enforcement again. Except, the silver lining was he wouldn’t be doing any of the actual enforcement. When he’d gone to the county Sheriff to negotiate the job, he’d been adamant about not seeing any action; he was done with that bullshit, and now that he was in a serious relationship, he couldn’t afford to put his life in danger.

Frankly, he didn’t think it was worth it.

Not anymore.

There was someone waiting for him at home, and she meant more to him than anything else on the entire fucking planet. So, he would be working safe and sound in an office consulting, the parameters of which he’d figure out once he got there.

Generally, he was methodical in putting on his suit. Having done it so many times, he went through the process with hardly any thought. As attaché in Colombia, the time he spent dressing was time he’d ruminate on what was going on and go over his schedule for the day, his hands moving on autopilot through the practiced movements of buttoning his shirt or tying his tie while his mind was elsewhere.

But this morning, there was enjoyment in putting it on, loving how Cielito chose his outfit and tied his tie, his process interrupted with kisses and lovely conversation—Javier was having the best time, and wished all of their mornings were like this.

“This is my favorite part,” she said, his fingers plunging into his hair, it rising as he worked them through the brown strands, massaging the pomade in like he would shampoo.

His head turned to look at her while he kept going, a smile appearing on his lips.

She was so beautiful in just his white t-shirt, bright-eyed and smiling, her arms crossed over her chest, which accentuated her breasts, drawing his gaze to them.

“When I put on the pomade?” he asked, meeting her eyes again.

“Yes—how you make it all messy.”

She’d cut it perfectly the day before, the sides short and longer on top, Javier pushing the hair back from his forehead, feeling it damp and slightly sticky.

He snorted. “You just love when my hair looks like shit.” His attention moved to picking up the comb.

“Yeah, I do, ‘cause you’re really fucking sexy when you have post-sex hair.” She stroked her fingers through it, and it made him shiver. “It’s surprising your hair is never greasy,” she said, turning on the sink to wash her hand off.

He was using the comb to slick it back, staring at himself in the mirror as he replied, “The shit I use is water-based and washes out easily—it also keeps my hair soft. I fucking hate the greasy, oily ones.”

And he’d been complimented many times about the softness of his hair, so he’s stuck with the same kind since college.

“Noted.” She was drying off with the small towel hanging on the wall next to her.

His hair was slicked back, and he used the end of the comb to make his side part, pushing it through the hair on the left of his head where his cowlick was and brushing down the side.

“You cut my hair so fucking well,” he mused, combing the length on top to the right until he was satisfied, setting the comb back on the countertop to slide his fingers into his hair and add texture, using them to break up the brown strands.

He could see her grinning in the mirror. “You really like it?” she asked.

Javier would never go to a barber again; that’s how much he loved what she’d done. It was the best haircut experience he’d ever had, enjoying watching the woman he loved in the mirror as she worked with that crinkle between her brows he found adorable. He wasn’t even surprised he lost the bet of not grabbing her ass. He was weak—he was so fucking weak for her, and it took a lot of strength to go as long as he did without touching her; his fingers had itched to reach out and feel her body.

It soothed him, feeling her—her warmth, her softness. There was a constant stream of thoughts in his brain, and a lot of them were worries over things he had nothing to worry about:

Does she love me? Does she still want to be with me? Did I fuck up? Am I going to fuck up? Will I be a terrible father? Will my kids hate me? Will she leave me when she finds out about Colombia?

He swallowed thickly, his arm going around her middle to pull her into his side, her hugging his torso. “I love it, mi amor (my love),” he answered, kissing her crown.

His body relaxed, calmness washing over him.

She does love me. She still wants to be with me. I didn’t fuck up. I can’t know if I’ll fuck up. She believes I’ll be a good father, and I’ll do my fucking best. My kids won’t hate me because I’ll love them so fucking much. She won’t leave me when I tell her about South America.

“Well, I love you,” she said, the reassurance making his heart sing. Her head was turned so he could see her face in the reflection, smiling at him. “And I’m happy you like your hair—it looks very sexy.”

“Thanks.” He smirked. “My new hairdresser is good at her job.”

“Is she?”

“Yeah. She even cuts it in her underwear and lets me grab her ass.” He reached down to squeeze her backside.

Giggling, she replied, “That just makes you sound like a creep.” He frowned deeply, and she quickly added, “I loved you grabbing my ass, ya filthy ass grabber.”

He smiled again, chuckling. All this talk about her ass had him thinking about it and the payback for her smacking his. He leaned forward to wash his hands, her detaching from him to take up the space beside him once more. His arms reached in front of her after turning off the faucet to dry his hands on the towel next to her, an idea coming to him as he straightened, eyeing her variety of skincare products on the counter on his other side.

Focusing on his reflection, he fiddled with his hair to perfect it, asking nonchalantly, “Will you put sunscreen on my face, baby?”

“Of course, babe,” she replied happily.

Leaning forward and across the sink, she stretched past him to grab the lotion, his shirt she was wearing rising up her back to expose her bare ass like he hoped—his large palm came down on her asscheek in a loud slap that sounded in the room, his hand stinging, her shouting— “Javier!” He was smoothing it over while she angrily grabbed the sunscreen and stood back up, glaring at him.

She was cute, making him chuckle, turning his head to look at her. “You can’t be mad at me,” he said. “You said it was worth it.”

“Yeah, I did, but you’re still an asshole.”

“An asshole who loves you… and your ass.” He growled the last word, grabbing a handful of it.

She rolled her eyes, snorting at his antics, and he knew she wasn’t mad at him.

“Keep your head like that,” she ordered, flipping the cap on the sunscreen, squeezing a small amount onto her finger, and dabbing it onto the tip of his nose, doing the process over and over until he had white spots on each cheek, his chin, neck, forehead, and nose.

She did this almost every morning, and he always loved it.

“This is my favorite part,” he said, closing his eyes and smiling softly.

The lotion was closed and set aside, her hands moving to gently rub it into his skin, and he felt himself melt under her touch, turning him into putty.

“Yeah?” she asked.

“I love your hands on me—it feels so fucking good.”

“You’re incredibly adorable. I’m just happy you wear it.”

She was making sure to get all his face, neck, and ears, his spine tingling when she massaged his earlobes between her fingers.

“‘Cause you told me to.”

“I sure the fuck did. You gotta protect this gorgeous face.”

Suddenly lips were pressed to his, and automatically his arm was wrapping around her to pull her closer, kissing her back.

They separated after a moment, Javier feeling so happy.

“I’m almost done,” he said, looking at her.

“You are,” she replied. “If I wasn’t here, you’d already be finished and eating breakfast.”

“I prefer you being here. Breakfast can wait.” He’d skip the meal if it meant spending more time with her.

“How are we doing on time?”

He stepped back, flicking his wrist up and pulling back his sleeve, his eyes squinting as he read the watch face. “Still have an hour and fifteen before I need to be there.”

“Okay,” she said while washing her hands in the sink. “That’s enough time to get you off, and send you on your way with coffee and a granola bar.” She dried them, turning back to face him.

He calculated in his brain how long it’d take him to get to work and the amount of time they had to work with, figuring they both could get off—he really wanted to make her come for such a wonderful morning, and he could do it quickly with his mouth or fingers.

“I’d rather skip the coffee and granola bar and eat your pussy for breakfast,” he replied.

Her breath stuttered, seeing her pupils dilate.

“As lovely as that’d be, pussy isn’t on the menu this morning—today is about you.” She poked him in the arm.

He didn’t want it to be all about him, thinking of something better she’d enjoy more.

His eyebrow rose. “If it’s about me, then shouldn’t I get to decide? I say forget the oral. I’ll finish getting dressed and bend you over the bed so we can both get off, and you’ll get to live your Detective Peña dream.”

She swallowed hard, knowing the thought of it turned her on. He was determined that she enjoyed herself, too.

“That’s really sexy of you to offer, but the plan was to suck your dick—I want to suck your dick.”

It bothered him that she was only focusing on him and not considering what he wanted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, I want to make you come.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” She shook her head. “I want to choke on your dick.”

“You can choke on my dick, but we should both get off,” he argued.

“That’s unnecessary. I’m getting you off.” Ending the sentence with a jab of her finger to his chest.

“You can get me off, and I can take care of you after—you know I can get you there quickly.”

She made a frustrated sound. “I don’t want you to take care of me. I want to take care of you.”

“Just let me eat your fucking pussy after.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know what’s going on right now, Javier, but when you put on a suit, you’re kind of a stubborn dick.” He jolted, his mouth falling open, realizing he was being difficult.

She’d told him all morning about how she was looking forward to sucking him off in the suit, and it had just occurred to him that this was one of those times where she wanted to make him come without getting anything in return—she wanted to be in control. And here he was, being, as she said, a stubborn dick fighting her on it when in reality, her plan would still have them both winning.

Her hand caressed his cheek, speaking softly, “I need you to come back to me, Javi. You were down with the blow job earlier, and now you’re arguing with me, which is so unlike you. Are you just not in the mood? If you really don’t want one, I’ll drop it and make you a nice breakfast instead—all I want is to pamper you.”

“Shit,” he whispered, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Cielito.” Meeting her eyes. “Of course, I’m in the mood. I don’t know why the fuck I was fighting you on it.” His hands rubbed up and down her arms. “You can blow me. I know you’re really fucking excited about it.”

Frowning, she replied, “I’m only excited if it’s something you’ll be into…”

Javier felt terrible that she was feeling doubtful.

He smiled softly— “Cielito, baby, you gotta know I love when you suck my dick. You give the best fucking blow jobs—it’s something I’m definitely into, and I’d be an idiot to turn one down.” He let out a long sigh. “I just got caught up in wanting to make you feel good, too.”

“I promise, this is one of those times where pleasuring you really does it for me.”

His hands cradled her cheeks, smirking. “Yeah? Turns you on choking on my cock? You want it down your throat, Cielito?”

“God, yes,” she breathed, his cock hardening in his pants.

“You want me to fuck your mouth?” His thumb smoothed over her bottom lip. “Make you gag on it?”

A mischievous smile appeared on her face. “As good as that sounds, I have something better planned,” she purred.

That had him curious.

His eyebrow lifted. “You gonna tell me?”

“Nope,” she replied, sucking his thumb into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it, his lips parting at how it had arousal simmering in his gut.

“You’re gonna be a bad girl and keep secrets from me, baby?” he rasped.

She let go of his digit with a wet pop. “I’m going to be very bad, Papí.” His eyes closed as he groaned, smashing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. His hands grabbed onto the globes of her ass, his tongue filthily licking into her mouth, walking her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, wanting her mouth on him as soon as possible.

The backs of your legs hit the bed, his mouth leaving yours to push you to sit on the edge seeing the hard outline of his cock in his dress pants, it stretching up and to the right with his underwear on. He was moving quickly to the garment bag beside you, pulling out the matching navy blue jacket and shrugging it on.

Walking back over, he stood a few steps in front of you so you could see him in all of his suited glory—his face was neutral, his hair dry and perfectly styled, the length on top swooping to the side, his jacket open and a little snug in the shoulders, the crisp white shirt beneath it with the dark red tie on display. He was in a stance, his left hand over his belly, his weight to the right, that hand at his side, seeing it flex with nerves, his hard-on still perfectly visible and trying to break free from the tight confines of his pants.

It was glorious.

Your mouth had fallen open, understanding now why there was a slight change in his demeanor when he put it on—he looked powerful, confident, and had an air to him that he wasn’t someone you wanted to fuck with and definitely didn’t take no for an answer; he got what he wanted. He was giving off major head bitch in charge vibes, and honestly, you were really into it.

A knowing smile crept up on his lips as you stared. “What do you think, mi amor (my love)?” he purred.

“That I’d never be able to work with you because I’d constantly be begging for your dick.”

“Yeah? You gonna beg me to put it in your mouth?” he asked.

His question went straight to your pussy, having to rub your thighs together to ease the ache.

“Maybe.” This look needed to be immortalized, telling him– “Don’t move.” Standing up, you padded some steps over to your dresser to get the Polaroid camera off of it, making your way over to the bed once more and sitting back down.

“Need a picture of me, baby?”

“Oh, yeah.” You said, bringing the camera up to your face, making sure you were getting a full body shot. “This is prime spank bank material.”

“Need a picture of what you do to me?” he asked, the hand on his belly lowering to grab his hard cock through his pants, his hand so big palming it.

“Javi!” you gasped, a smirk on his handsome face as you hit the shutter button, the flash going off, and the camera whirring while spitting out the picture. You were throbbing with need, pulling the photo out and shaking it, setting it next to you on the bed, along with the camera, unable to stay away from him any longer, the teasing too much.

Jumping up to your feet, three strides and your bodies were close, skating your hands up his abdomen under the jacket to his chest, his own gripping your hips.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” you purred, his burning gaze locked on yours, needing to feel more of him—roaming your palms over his back and lower to grab his ass.

“Yeah?” he rasped. “Is it everything you dreamed?”

“It’s better,” you answered, reaching down to palm his dick, stroking him over his slacks, your hand not taking up nearly as much real estate as his did. “Fuck, I love you,” you said, grabbing his tie in your free hand and pulling him in for a heated kiss, his tongue pushing into your mouth to slide along yours.

There was an urgency; you’d been fantasizing about this for so long, and he looked so fucking good, the only thing on your mind was getting him in your mouth—guiding him to the edge of the bed, his back to it as you kissed. His belt clinked as you got it undone, your fingers popping open the button on his pants and pulling down the zipper, your lips leaving his to crouch, tugging his pants and underwear down to his ankles.

Javi was chuckling, his head tilted to look at you, resting his hands on his hips. “Didn’t you say you wanted to blow me while I was dressed? You’re taking half of my clothes off.”

His cock had sprung free, it sticking out from under his dress shirt, the tip an angry red and shiny from precum, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Yeah, so I don’t get anything on your pants—things are going to get… messy.”

That earned a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean…?”

You gave him a toothy grin that could rival the Cheshire cat, rising to stand as you said, “You’ll soon find out.” Pressing a hand to the middle of his chest, you pushed him back onto the mattress, the springs complaining under him.

His bare feet were flat on the floor, digging his elbows into the mattress, grunting as he sat up to watch you, his suit jacket wide open, his tie hanging to the left over his torso. He pulled his dress shirt up his belly and out of the way of his dick laying against the trail of hair below his belly button. “I’m really fucking curious about what you’re gonna do to me, Cielito.”

“It’s gonna be a good time,” you reassured, dropping to your knees between his spread legs.

“I don’t doubt that, mi amor (my love).” He had a sweet smile on his face, seeing the trust in his eyes. “But, uh, is it something… new?”

“With all the sex we have—” Taking off your shirt, you threw it haphazardly to the side. “—surprisingly, yes.”

You were thankful for the height of your bed—not too tall, not too short, it was just right to be able to rest your arms on his thighs and hover your head over his groin. You wrapped the fingers of one hand around his length, feeling him hot in your palm and so hard he was like velvety steel. Gathering spit on your tongue, you let it drip onto the tip, spreading it down his shaft with your hand as you slowly pumped him, Javi’s mouth going slack, his gorgeous throat bobbing.

“Mi amor (my love)?” His voice was rough, his pupils blown wide.

“Yes, Javi?” you answered, languidly stroking him.

There was a little smile on his face, and it had you frowning because it was the look he always had when he’d sussed you out.

“You gonna let me fuck your tits?” he asked.

Sighing, your hand paused on his cock. “Detective Peña strikes again—how’d you figure it out?”

It annoyed you how pleased he looked with himself.

“You said you had something better planned than me fucking your face that’s messy and new. Plus, you’ve got me like this.” He nodded at his body.

You thought about it for a second, moving your hand on him again, twisting it on the upstroke to make his breath hitch.

“Okay, I can see how you came to that conclusion, but with those clues, I can think of something else it could’ve been.”

It was his turn to think, seeing the wheels turning in his brain and coming up with nothing.

He swallowed hard. “What…?” he finally asked.

“Me playing with your ass while I blow you.” You shrugged.

His eyes went wide. “My… ass…?”

You were slowly pumping him.

“Yeah? Have you never messed around down there?”

“No…?”

That was honestly surprising with all of his experience. Maybe it just never crossed his mind or wasn’t something he thought to experiment with.

“You’re missing out, babe. It’s literally one of your most intense erogenous zones, and I’ve heard prostate massage makes you come really hard.”

There was a curious expression on his face, seeing the pink of his tongue wet his bottom lip.

“Really hard?” he asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. Want me to test the waters while I’m blowing you? Just some touching.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I trust you.”

“Great! Good talk—I’m gonna choke on your dick now.”

His chuckle turned into a moan as you took him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, your hand working his base while bobbing your head, his cock hitting the back of your throat.

“Feels so good, Cielito,” he rasped. “So fucking pretty with my dick in your mouth.”

You hummed around him, relishing the salty tang of his arousal, loving the heft of him sliding along your tongue. Your goal was to get him as slick as possible, not caring about the saliva dripping down his shaft and onto your hand.

Coming up, you swirled your tongue around the head, making Javi groan, hearing your wet strokes as you worked him over.

His voice was deeper, huskier, “Spit on it,” he ordered. “Spit on my dick, baby.”

You did as he requested, spitting on the tip. “Yes, that’s it,” he said. “My good fucking girl. It’s yours—this dick is yours, I’m yours.” Your mouth was back on him, moaning at his words, letting him hear how much you were enjoying yourself, squeezing your thighs together to ease your neediness.

Looking at him while your head moved, his face was flushed, sweat glistening on his forehead, his eyes-heavy lidded and dark, his lips parted while he watched you with rapt attention.

“Always hungry for my dick,” he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so fucking good at it.”

Finally, you were taking him further and further into your mouth until he reached your throat, swallowing around him and pushing forward to have his dick sliding easily into the tight space. Your eyes rolled back at how good it felt, him fitting perfectly with your jaw prised open, breathing through your nose, your inner thighs coated in slick.

He sounded wrecked, “Oh, fuck—that’s so good.” The bed jostled as he put all his weight on one elbow to reach a hand toward you, gently caressing your cheek, before moving down to feel himself bulging in your throat. “I love you so fucking much. You’re so fucking good to me, taking my dick down your throat—so fucking beautiful. Fuck, I’m lucky.”

Spit was coating your chin and dripping out of the corners of your mouth, your eyes watering, and you didn’t give a single fuck that you looked like a mess because you were loving every second of this—gulping around him, his cock got harder in your throat, his taste stronger, Javi gasping out, Cielito.

There was something about turning your boyfriend into a proverbial puddle that thrilled you—it was a heady feeling that you were in control of his pleasure and making him feel so good, your body thrumming from hearing his noises and seeing him lose himself.

Your nose was brushing the curls at his base, smelling his musk and your body wash he’d used the night before, getting notes of berries and tangerine—sputtering as you came off of him with a string of saliva and precum, keeping you connected, panting while you caught your breath, your hand wetly stroking him.

Your voice was rough. “How close are you?” you asked.

His eyes were gleaming with devotion, and reverence, his hand cradling your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your wet bottom lip.

“If you take me down your throat again, I’ll come.”

“I need you to tell me if you’re about to, okay?”

“Okay.” He nodded.

“Good boy,” you purred.

His eyes got bigger, his cock twitching in your hand as he breathed fuck, and it had a tingle moving down your spine at his reaction, filing away the knowledge he might also have praise kink for later.

The plan was to get him slobbery, leaning your head over his dick to let another wad of spit fall onto the head, followed by your mouth, keeping your eyes on his while moving up and down his length—a pained expression was on his face, his mouth fell open, a furrow between his brows, his gaze smoldering as he watched. Your hand moved to his balls, fondling the heavy sack while your mouth worked, Javi moaning loudly at your ministrations.

With what you were about to do, you had a slight worry he might come immediately, hoping he’d remember to tell you if he was close to the edge.

She was too fucking good at sucking his dick, the fire in the pit of his stomach growing rapidly with the hot heat of her mouth on him—entranced with how her soft lips stretched around his cock, coaxing him closer and closer to his end, his mind muddled with pleasure.

Fuck, she was gorgeous—he loved her so fucking much.

His body tensed when he felt her slick finger slide between his asscheeks, not knowing what to expect. Sure, he loved playing with her ass, and he’d love a chance to fuck it, but his? It wasn’t something he’d ever been interested in until she talked about how it’d make him come really hard.

Javier was very open about exploring sex—university was a time for him to experiment, even kissing a guy to see if it was something he was into; he wasn’t. He definitely was only attracted to women. So, he was down for Cielito wanting to try something that’d make him feel good.

She touched his tight ring of muscle, running her finger around it, and it felt like he was melting—his body was tingling, his cock jerking in her mouth, squeezing his eyes shut, a wounded noise ripping from his throat while clutching the bedding with his fingers.

“Holy shit,” he groaned, his breathing turning ragged. “Why does that feel so good? Is this what it feels like for you?”

Her mouth left his dick to answer, “Yeah. It’s all the nerve endings, but there’s something you have that I don’t.”

Moving her hand, she used the flat of two knuckles to stroke over the skin between his hole and balls, adding more and more small amounts of pressure— “Jesus Christ,” Javi gasped, his hips bucking. It felt so fucking good. What the fuck. His balls tightened, the heat in his pelvis turning into an inferno, too close to hitting the point of no return. “Fuck, oh fuck, gonna come.” Her hand left him immediately, making him whine at the loss of contact, his chest heaving as he panted.

You’d never been more thankful for all of the anatomy classes you’d taken in college, and Robyn, your best friend, for telling you about the guy she met in San Antonio who liked a finger in his ass when she was going down on him.

Smiling brightly as Javi opened his eyes, you asked, “Good?”

He was nodding, panting while he wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “Yeah. When we have more time…”

“We will absolutely explore assplay now that it’s on the table.”

Smiling, he replied, “Good, and thank you—learned something new.”

“The student has become the teacher.”

His eyebrow arched. “I haven’t taught you shit.”

“I mean, you’ve introduced me to a lot of new stuff, so you kinda have. You good?”

He needed to adjust how he was sitting, switching the elbow he was putting his weight on, the bed beneath him squeaking softly. “Yeah.”

His cock rested on his stomach, wetting his skin with your spit. You took it in your hand, shuffling closer, rubbing the wet tip over your hard nipple, looking him in the eyes.

“You ready to fuck my tits, Javi?”

“Fuck, yes,” he husked, his eyes so dark barely any brown remained.

He was staring at your chest as you put his dick between your breasts, pressing them tightly together to keep him in place, rising up on your knees and falling back down, feeling him slickly sliding in your cleavage over and over again.

“Fucking love your tits,” he rasped. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, mi alma (my soul).”

His cock was hard against your sternum, the softness of your breasts giving way to his girth, setting a steady rhythm, seeing Javi’s glazed-over gaze locked on what you were doing. You played with your stiff nipples, the sparks of pleasure igniting in your core.

“You gonna come on them?” you breathily asked. “Or in my mouth?”

“Shit,” he groaned. “On them—gonna fucking paint them in my come.”

“Yeah?” you asked, as you kept moving. “You’re gonna come all over my tits? Mark me with it?”

“I am.” He licked his lips. “Gonna make a fucking mess.”

“I want you to come on them—want you to jerk off on me,” you said, lifting up and down.

His breaths were getting shallower, the muscles tightening in his belly, knowing he was getting close.

“Fuck, baby, you want to watch me fuck my hand? Watch how you get me off?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

“Scoot back, Cielito—gotta stand up, gonna come.”

Letting go of your breasts, you quickly moved back, Javi groaning as he stood up from the bed, one big hand holding up his dress shirt, the other wrapping around his cock, hearing the wet strokes of him pumping it fast. You leaned back a little, sticking your chest out, transfixed with the partially dressed man above you baring his teeth, looking almost angry with the crease between his eyebrows, grunting as he furiously jerked himself off.

You pushed your tits together, looking up at him under your eyelashes.

“You gonna come for me, Javi?” you asked. “I want it—I want it all over me, Papí. Give it to me.”

A pained sound came from him, his eyes closing for a moment.

“God, I fucking love you,” he panted.

You could see the muscles in his thighs tensing, a guttural groan rumbling from his chest as he came, hot ropes of his spend streaking over your breasts and chest.

His hand came to a stop, his shoulders slumping, eyes closed, his body relaxing like he’d been wrung out while breathing hard. His cheeks were stained red, and his forehead was wet with sweat, needing a moment to come down.

You felt amazing, just so happy you got to do everything you wanted this morning, glancing over at the clock on the bedside table to see you were making good time, positive that if there weren’t any delays, he’d be at work right on time.

“Yeah,” you started, breaking the silence while looking down at your chest. “Still definitely prefer cream pies—less messy, but being your little toaster strudel is hot.”

Air loudly left Javi’s nose, it turning into him laughing, your head tilting up to see he had a dimpled grin and crinkles at the edges of his open eyes, looking positively tickled by what you said. It had warmth spreading through your veins, smiling big at him.

It took him some seconds to calm down. Finally, he said, “That was fucking funny.”

“I’m glad I could amuse you.”

“Don’t move,” he said, his body twisting to the side to grab the Polaroid camera off the bed.

“Need a picture of the Jackson Pollock you made on my chest?”

He snorted, holding the camera up to his face. “Need a picture of you being my little toaster strudel,” he answered. The flash went off, hearing the camera whine as it spat out the picture, Javi grabbing it, and setting the device back onto the mattress, the photo he took of you getting set next to the one you took of him.

“You gonna put it with your collection?” you asked. There was a stack of dirty Polaroids in his bedside table, next to his bottle of lube for when he jerked off, which was a very rare occurrence.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, his attention moving back to you. “Fuck, you’re pretty.” Bending a little, he swiped a finger through the mess on your chest, bringing it up to your lips. “Open.”

His order made you clench hard around nothing. Opening your mouth to accept his digit, he pushed it in, moaning at his salty taste as you sucked it clean.

“Good girl,” he rasped, pulling it out. “Your plan was perfect.”

You preened at his words.

“You liked it?” you asked.

“Loved it, Cielito.” His gaze went to his groin. “You were right about it being messy, though.”

His lap was drenched with spit, making you grimace while getting up to your feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said, walking over to the little table beside where he slept and getting two small towels out from the stack under it that were specifically for post-sex, taking one to him and using the other to clean yourself up.

“You sure you don’t want to visit me on my lunch?” he asked while wiping himself down. “No sex, just food in my new office.”

“As much as I want to, I actually have plans today,” you answered, your body cleaned off, tossing your dirtied rag into the nearby hamper.

“I thought you took the day off to watch me get dressed…?” He’d discarded his towel into the hamper as well. Watching as he bent down to pull up his pants and underwear, looking at you while he tucked in his dress shirt.

“I did, and to take care of some other stuff.” You waved away the words like they weren’t important.

“What stuff?” he asked, hearing the metal clank as he put on his belt.

“I need to go grocery shopping for some special ingredients because there’s a new recipe I want to make that’s going to take me all day. I wanted you to have a nice dinner after your first day at your new job,” you said, shrugging.

His eyes got big, closing the distance with a couple of steps to crush you into a hug.

“I love you,” he said into your hair.

“I love you, too.” You were rubbing your clean hands up and down his back.

“I don’t deserve you.” He kissed your head.

“Oh, you stop that right now. You more than deserve me.”

He leaned back to look at you, stroking his hands up and down your bare upper arms.

“Thank you for this morning and for whatever you’re gonna cook.”

“You’re welcome, baby. Good way to start your day?”

He smiled. “The fucking best.”

Leaning in, he kissed you tenderly, feeling his love with each press of his lips.

When it ended, he asked, “Can I call you on my lunch?”

“Of course, Javi—I’d love to talk to you,”

His lips lifted in a smile. “Then I’ll call.”

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[m-jelly]

Hello, Jelly! How are you?

What about demon prince! Levi? The reader is a witch who must give her soul to the Demon King, but he does not accept this payment.

Instead, he asks for her hand in marriage for his only son, the demon prince Levi. Levi is lonely and his father is worried about him, so he thinks that finding a mate for him is a good solution.

The reader agrees to this, which results in Levi and her falling madly in love. Levi is happy that he has found the love of his life, just like his beloved

@ladycheesington <3

Spell veil

Levi x dem!reader

Royal AU, demon Levi, witch reader, fluff, romance, arranged marriage, falling in love, love at first sight.

You're meant to offer your soul for power to the demon king, but the king is concerned about his lonely son. Instead of losing your soul, the king offers you marriage to his son. You meet the prince and the two of you fall helplessly in love with each other.

@ladycheesington @levisbrat25 @nyxiieluna @li-anne @galactict3a @youre-ackermine @thebobaprincess @2moth-anon2 @cypidity @nbinairyn @bts-spnlvr12 @darkstarlight82 @notgoodforlife @demonic-bird

"I decline, but I do have another offer."

You stared at the demon King. "You decline? Is there something wrong with my soul?"

"It's too nice." He chuckled. "Nothing wrong with that. I just need something different."

You pouted a little at the handsome King. "So, what is this other offer?"

He released a long sigh as he considered his offer. The wooden throne creaked when he rose from him. A thudding from his boots echoed in the room when he descended the stairs. Even though he was tall, he had this kind and soothing aura about him, it was hard to believe he was the demon King.

A gentle smile spread on his lips. "You are really cute and you're talented."

You frowned. "Thank you?"

"Are you single?"

"Yes..."

He clasped his hands together. "Wonderful! So is my son! He is very handsome, strong, kind and he has a lot of love to give." He ushered you along and through his grand halls. "He is hardworking as well. He's normally drinking tea and working on some papers in his office or the grand greenhouse." He stopped a maid. "Where is my son?"

The maid bowed. "His Highness is in the greenhouse."

"Thank you!" He dragged you to the greenhouse that took your breath away.

The greenhouse was like an old Victorian one. A large water feature was in the middle. Grand flowers and trees decorated the walls. Near the edge of the greenhouse was a cosy corner with blankets, seats, cushions and a very handsome man sat with papers.

You gasped as heat spread over your cheeks. "Wow."

The king chuckled. "Told you he's handsome." He strolled over to his son and left you standing there. "Levi! My boy. I have someone for you."

Levi looked up from his papers. "Mm?"

"You've been lonely and I said I would find you a wife, so I found you this cute witch!"

Levi leaned a little to look around his father at you. Hopes were not high in Levi, but as soon as he locked eyes with you his heart raced in his chest. To him, you were beautiful beyond words could describe. Instinct took over. He rose to his feet and approached you. A gentle sparkled filled his eyes as he gazed at you.

Your heart skipped a beat when Levi smiled a little bit before caressing your cheek. You bowed your head and hummed. "Y-Your Highness."

"Levi, please." He lifted some of your hair and kissed it. "What is your name?"

You stammered your name. "It's lovely to meet you."

"You too." He gulped hard, he didn't wat to mess up his chance with you. "Would you like to join me for tea?"

"Please."

He escorted you to his little corner and poured you a drink. "Tell me everything about you."

Maids and butlers moved out of the way of the prince while he stormed his way through the halls. Months ago they used to clear the path because he was always in a mood, but then the King brought you into his life and Levi had changed.

Levi was on a mission and this time it was for love. He knew exactly where you were and he knew very well his father did it on purpose. The grand doors of the throne room appeared before him, he was here for you. With a swift kick, the doors slammed open to reveal the King, Queen and you.

The King smiled at Levi and waved. "Hello, son!"

Levi looked at what was going on, it seemed you were showing them a few spells. He hurried over to you and scooped you up into his arms. "My fiancée, mine."

Your cheeks burned as you felt a little flustered. "Levi, the king-."

"Is my father and I'm your fiancé. I want you." He pouted so sweetly. "Ignore my father."

You smiled a little. "You want attention?"

"Of course." He carried you away from his parents. "I'm a very demanding demon. I desire my fiancée's full attention."

You hugged him tightly as he carried you through the halls. "You have me. So, where are we going?"

"To our corner in the greenhouse."

You kissed his cheek causing him to blush. "Did you ever think that you'd be like this with someone years ago?"

"No." He smiled down at you. "But I'm so glad you tried to offer your soul to my father because now I have you." He lay you down on a bed of blankets. "Mine for eternity."

You gasped at the thought. "You're right, we'll be together for eternity."

He leaned over you and began kissing your neck and face. "Does that make you happy?"

You cupped his face and smiled sweetly. "Very."

He played with your hair as you lightly played with his pointed ears an then his horns. "I love it when you touch me as much as you do."

You hummed a laugh. "You're just so soft and warm."

He called your name. "My little spell bunny, I love you."

You smiled at your handsome fiancé. "I love you, Levi."

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hello again everyone i'm putting on my tinfoil jester hat & passing out Hefty grains of salt. its batshit theory time!

in short: i think Julie is gonna get violent & might end up killing someone - or she'll at least try. and i'm pretty sure something terrible is gonna happen to her.

in long: hoo boy. strap in

first off, i'd like to say that i love womens' wrongs And rights! all of this is said with utmost affection & respect for Julie. i love it when characters do terrible things, its interesting and so tasty for the story and their development <3

second disclaimer: most of this is just based off of what we have / know as of now. which is, admittedly, not much! so despite having short arms, i may be reaching very far! i'll get the based-on-knowledge part of my thoughts out of the way before getting into the more abstract I'm Just Making Shit Up At This Point part (educated guessing, yk yk!)

not sure where to start so i'll begin with what starting this line of thinking - flower symbolism. I've gone a little bit into it in a previous post from a while back (where i just made observations about the neighborhood map), but i'll restate the relevant parts. there are two flowers in the neighborhood with greek myths attached, and similar ones at that: the hyacinths outside of the Post Office, and the sunflowers outside of Frank's house.

most people know the hyacinth myth! Apollo, while playing metal frizbee with his (male) mortal lover Hyacinthus, Apollo's thrown discus bounced off of the ground and accidentally hit Hyacinthus in the head, killing him - then Apollo turned the spilled blood into the hyacinth flower. in another - popular - version of the myth, the wind god Zephyrus was jealous and blew the discus off course to kill Hyacinthus. as for sunflowers: Clytie, a nymph, was in love with Apollo and grew jealous of his relationship with a princess, Leucothoe. Clytie informed Leucothoe's father of the relationship, and he buried Leucothoe alive as punishment. Apollo turned his murdered lover into a sunflower. two flowers attached to greek myths about Apollo falling for a mortal, and that mortal gets murdered by a jealous non-mortal.

next, I would like to bring attention to This Concept Artwork from 2021. now i'm not gonna use this as a definitive "oh this exists so it must mean-" but there are always elements of concept work, especially Canon concept work, that sticks or can allude to themes or information that will be revealed later in the story. concepts are concepts for a reason - it means there's a solid idea that's being explored in depth, most times for use (especially that deep into the story crafting).

specifically, right now i'd like to look at the type of flower Julie is holding. pansies. normal ones + the primary fucked up pansy. pansies are symbols of love - both romantic and platonic, but predominantly platonic. it can also symbolize nostalgia, thought, admiration, remembrance, and can even be used as an "i'm sorry" flower. in victorian times, it was often used to represent forbidden/secret love.

stick with me, i'm getting to the point i promise

now, another thing is how much of Julie's character (meta-wise & in regards to the WH show as a production) is centered around love. her house is the "cutest" or most feminine one in the neighborhood, and it's downright infested with hearts, from the windows to the bushes to the chimney. she exists as Frank's foil, and it's almost definitive that she was meant to be Frank's love interest (there's just. so much evidence that there's no way that's not it). and just look at her! she looks like a love interest! if WH was a real show that i sat down to watch, i'd see her and immediately go "oh, ok, that's her base role"

this contradicts with what we know of her character - Julie seems big on platonic love, loving her friends, but other than that? she very much steps around what her house/character design is trying to say. she's hopscotching right over what the production wants from her. the only thing she kinda sticks with is the whole flower thing

but. but but but. i wonder! after the update, I'm pretty confident that the neighbors are influenced by the "script" and the workshop, even if they're not aware of it. see: the difference in how they act in the "recovered media" (where they behave more like they're characters playing out a bit, their dialogue has no natural lulls and it just sounds like a (really good) script) vs the 14 audios & the phone calls (natural dialogue, they seem more layered & like actual people instead of just characters, there's no set shenanigan - they're just doing their own things). and we can assume that the latter audios are from the neighbors off-script off-the-air.

despite this, they still somewhat try to fill their roles. the question is: how much of that is authentic, and how much is them still feeling that pressure to perform? just like how We as people feel pressure and expectation from societal rules/norms, even if we're not conscious of it. like, say... kids growing up thinking being queer is wrong, even if they've never been directly exposed to / made aware of homophobia/transphobia. We fill in the absence of being told "this is right" with "it must be wrong", and We act accordingly

so apply that to sapient puppets who were (again, most likely) made with set relationships, dynamics, and character details in mind. they're meant to be This Way, even if they want to be That Way, and that internal "programming" has to conflict, at least a little. like how I've seen Clown mention that homophobia will/may be a theme, and the only way i can see that happening among puppets who have never been directly exposed to it is if the above happens: they feel pressure from something they're unaware of. expectation from a "higher" plane of existence. as above, so below.

OKAY NOW WE'RE GETTING TO IT I PROMISE! blend this all together into Frank & Eddie catching feelings. they weren't meant to fall in love. they're not supposed to be together. it's - from the perspective of Playfellow & society (in the time period WH was active/created) - wrong.

Julie is supposed to be with Frank. Frank is supposed to be with Julie. in a way, they are together - they're best friends. they're foils. they were created to compliment each other and click. in the media audios, they're almost always together. if one of them is in a scene, so is the other.

so what happens if Frank starts to pull away? if he starts to spend more time with Eddie - what if Julie feels like she's being pushed out? what if she asks Frank to come play, only to be told he already has plans with Eddie, and if Julie tries to join in, what if Frank tells her no?

if it were me in this situation, I think I'd start to panic a little. everything has always been the same - it's always been Frank and Julie. that's how it's supposed to be. Frank and Eddie, well that's just - that's just wrong! and if, at this hypothetical point in the story, things are tangibly starting to degrade/go wrong, Julie might cling even harder, panic even more.

you see where I'm going with this? what i meant with the flower symbolism and what it could point to?

their world is falling apart, and Julie's one constant - Frank, her best friend, her grumpy rock - is pulling away. for Eddie. the mailman. and so what if the jealous "lover" takes action? Julie can make things go back to normal. she needs Frank, and in her mind she's losing him, but she can't lose him. she can't. and maybe that little whisper of expectation that she can't hear but feels nonetheless, fuels this fire. it makes her feel justified, makes her feel the need to act and "correct" this. maybe if she gets rid of the distraction, Frank's love and attention will be hers once more.

i mean, people do insane things when they're under that much pressure. from current probably-horrible events, a loss of control in their own life, their closest person seemingly distancing themselves, subconscious pressure from societal expectation. especially when it comes to love - platonic or romantic. w/ Julie, i'm pretty sure it's platonic in regards to Frank. though she is bi, so you never know! could be both!

and maybe it won't be about Frank & Eddie, if any of this turns out to even a little right. maybe there's a factor I'm not considering or haven't seen yet. but i really do think that there are things pointing to it.

like yeah, the Concept Art linked above. the caption saying "liar", the specific species of flower, Julie holding it over her mouth as if keeping a secret, the hammer. not sure if the person standing over her is her primary puppeteer, an abstract, or something else (it seems cracked?) but that's not what this theory is about!

then there's the flower patch - both behind her in the concept art, and the one behind her house on the map. it's striking me now that the two look very similar. they have mostly the same flowers, even. blue/yellow/white/orange "daisies", some daffodils, what i think are roses (it's hard to tell specifics on the map). an odd choice to make them so similar (unless it's coincidence!).

when I first saw the patch, my immediate thought was "holy shit is that a body dump?!" bc it's oddly green compared to the rest of the map, it's placed at a noticeable distance behind Julie's house - as if it's supposed to be "hidden", and it's the lushest spot in the neighborhood. now, to provide a counterargument to my own claim: it could be very green because that's how things are shaded, it looks like it's at a distance from the house bc the map is 2D, and its the lushest spot bc Julie's all about flowers - also, i doubt flowers would spontaneously grow since we can assume none of them are real. it's a puppet world of props. but who knows.

(and okay this might or might not be relevant but we can assume Julie is the one who made the chalk drawings on the path, right? i think there's a spiral in front of her house. just making a note of it.)

and there's just how much "pressure" seems to be on Julie compared to the others. she doesn't match her house. she doesn't fit her "role" the way she's meant to. AND OH AND I ALMOST FORGOT - by the swingset, there's now a bowling ball and what looks like red scissors. idk about you guys but i associate scissors with Eddie. he's all about crafts, after all! now i'm really reaching but hey? murder weapon? Julie does seem fond of bowling balls... that's a perfect bludgeoning weapon to have on hand (in abundance!)

in conclusion, i just think Julie has major potential to do some deliciously fucked up stuff. in fact, i hope she does! it could be handled/done in an absolutely fascinating way, and could have intriguing consequences.

who knows, maybe i'm right about her trying to get rid of Eddie (not out of malice or anything, just fear & pressure), and there'll be a whole thing where he keeps on coming back, completely unaware that she tried to off him, bc he's a puppet and it's probably really tough to kill something that wasn't really alive in the first place. i mean, in This Observation post i made about some new map secrets, there's a strange window shine on the Post Office door that could be spelling out either "nexus" or "new us". that plus the apparent extra hands/faces behind the door... Eddie is quite accident prone. who's to say he's not used to being replaced by himself? it's not like he'd remember. or is that the reason his memory is bad? holy shit wait - no wait this is a tangent. sorry. this post is about Julie lmao maybe i'll make a different post for this Eddie Thought i just had bc ough. ough...

and also, before anyone tries to come at me - because there's always people who twist words to Start Shit or misinterpret/miss the point - i'm not saying that Julie is like... homophobic. or hates Eddie. or is a "jealous crazy-" just. yk? and if you think that, maybe reread the post. or take a reading comprehension class &lt;3

AS FOR THE SOMETHING TERRIBLE HAPPENING TO JULIE. this is based on Two things and also Vibes. this section will be mercifully short compared to the rest of this clusterfuck of a post

so in the Livestream Trivia doc compiled by @/theneighborhood watch, yes i'm referencing this again sorry, there's this tidbit:

that, plus This Artwork, which features Julie (they're her shoes!) standing at the edge of an apparent chasm (the edge of the set, i assume) paints an interesting hypothetical picture. maybe she wanders a little too far and falls off the edge of her world. maybe she discovers something and Wally has to do something he doesn't want to do, but "needs" to. hey, who knows. maybe she is gonna hurt / try to hurt someone, and in an attempt to save them / stop her, Wally pushes her - either accidentally or on purpose, either way the end result would be the same. now I'm just pulling things out of my ass so lets move on lmao

then there's the Unknown Record in the website's media section. i actually recorded the audio and sped it up - i'll post that video later - and it seems to be an excerpt from Alice in Wonderland. the only part of it i've been able to clearly pick out is "Alice found herself falling down.... down... down..." followed by, presumably Alice speaking - who's high pitched voice reminds me of Julie's. so that's another point in the Julie Goes Bye-Bye Via Rapid Descent theory. or just goes temporarily missing! it could be that the only relevant part of the above trivia tidbit is the "falling down a cavern", and not the "never seen again" part. but it could. be. both.

though! though. Clown has stated that if all the neighbors were to take on roles in Alice in Wonderland, Wally is the one who would be Alice. which follows his direct connection to the spiral/eye pit, and the phrase "down the rabbit hole". so it could be either or. it could be both! it could be neither! this is all speculation, which brings us to....

the end! we made it! i hope you're still carrying your Hefty grains of salt! soon you'll be able to fill a large chicken-shaped shaker with it all!

[coyotefang1987]

Flower Symbolism in Trigun

Okay so I've been going insane in the last few hours since the new episode of Stampede and I needed to share my very incoherent thoughts.

So here we go: (please excuse my grammar, I'm typing this up in an absolute craze)

Please note, there are major spoilers here

[Plant in context to Trigun will be capitalized btw]

I want to start off by pointing out the whole idea with calling the creatures that Vash and Knives are as 'Plants' and 'seeds' in the first place--that in itself is so much. Not to mention Noman's Land is a desert plant with little to no flora at all.

The idea and symbolism of life and rebirth presented with the idea of plants. Like how flora are usually the first type of lifeform to come back post mass extinction events. How plants are primary producers in the food chain, how life couldn't be sustained without plants giving up oxygen, food, and converting the sunlight into energy/sugar. Despite being giant moth flower humanoid creatures, the Plants in Trigun are doing essentially the same thing. Except they aren't renewable and they might also be sentient.

In addition to that, in media, seeds are usually a representation of hope. And in this case, a seed pod carrying the hope of humanity. I've been likening it to dandelion seeds. I don't think our group of guys were the only space-fairing fleet that was sent out from Earth.

I don't know how much of this symbolism is intentional and how much of it is completely accidental, but boy howdy is it there and am I going to eat it up.

Geraniums!

First off, the most obvious one is geraniums. The flower is very much thrown into our faces. What does it mean?

Okay so there's like 400 types of geraniums out there, they're not like a specific species- and when people say 'geraniums' it usually also includes pelargoniums which are a different genus. But you're not here for me to monologue about flower classification-

Well, operating under the assumption they're using the most common type of red geranium, which, funnily enough is not a geranium but rather a pelargonium. Pelargonium x hortorum. Commonly known as zonal geraniums or garden geraniums. I don’t know if I even need to expand on the idea that Vash and his story (and the Plants in general) are represented by geraniums. If the red coat wasn’t already a giveaway, I think the newest episode definitely makes it very clear. Well, first off I think it's interesting that they’re not ‘true geraniums’ (different genus, same family). Like how Vash and Knives look human but aren’t ‘true humans’.  

(Did you know geraniums can reproduce asexually via their roots by just…sprouting a new plant? It’s called clonality. Anyways yeah, I’m too lazy to expand on it but there it is. You can probably see the connection I'm trying to draw here)

Furthermore, let’s look a little bit into what geraniums represent. So according to the vast knowledge of the interwebs (I will put the links I used at the bottom.) geraniums are “attributed the powers of love, peace, healing, elegance and spirituality. They mostly have desirable symbolizing meanings, including fertility, health, joy, protection, frustrations passing away, and true friendship.” Red geraniums in particular are attributed to protection and ward against evil., spiritual beings and saints. “The geranium flower was a symbol of prosperity in Egypt, longevity in Japan, and immortality in China”. *Stares at Vash and Knives*. Gods…immortality…saints. Alright Nightow, I see you.

Look, I’m not done here. DURING THE VICTORIAN ERA geranium took on a slightly more negative meaning. Envy, deceit, folly, foolishness and stupidity. Although they were also seen “as ‘horticultural bourgeoisie’ and a sign of ‘crudeness and thoughtlessness of taste’. Geranium became a symbol of industrial mass culture.” This was probably unintentional (and if it is intentional, holy fuck.) but the idea that Earth in Trigun was destroyed by the folly of humans because if mass industrialization? Hello???? OKAY.

There’s just so much history with geraniums. I’m STILL not done. Let’s talk a little about geraniums and Christianity, yeah? You know, the thing that Trigun is chock full of symbolism of.

So first off, tradition. (I am not Christian, nor do I know much about Christianity, I just did some research on the topic so feel free to correct me.) I do believe there is a tradition to buy and gift red geranium on Good Friday? (I can’t find a very credible source about this, just some blog posts so idk) And the red is to represent the blood that Jesus sacrificed for the people. How he was beaten and bloodied because of his love for the people. How…he was given a purple cloak that turned dark with blood while he was mocked. 

Sound familiar?

Do we want to talk about Vash’s red coat turning black in the latest episode? Or maybe how traditionally dying Plants are red and healthy ones are blue? But Vash keeps himself covered in red?

Now, here’s an interesting fact. Did you know, wild geraniums look very different from the ones people like to commonly grow in their gardens? This is the spotted cranesbill (Geranium maculatum), the most common wild geranium. Look, maybe I’m stretching it here, but cultivated Plants vs independent Plants, anybody?

Anywho, not the point I was trying to make. Did you know another common wild geranium is called the Saint Robert’s Geranium? Robert’s? While no one really knows who the ‘Saint Robert’ the flower is named after, it has a very fun symbolism. Check this. The seed pod of this flower supposedly looks like the beak of a stork, which had people believe that they could help a couple who wish for children with fertility when used as an amulet and placed under the bed. cough Ep 11 pregnancy scene cough. Apparently, medicinally they’re also used to staunch blood flow from wounds. Despite that, in certain regions, it was seen as an ill-omen plant associated with death because snakes would often hide in its leaves. Snakes? Like…in Adam and Eve? Like as in temptation? As in Knives and Vash?

Okay last bit on geraniums. Just a little on the colors. In episode 11 of Stampede we see the giant plant root monster thing blooming flowers. I have assumed that they are black geraniums, aka Geranium Phaeum 

aka mourning widows. Of course, I could be wildly wrong but the meaning of this is fun so hear me out. While there doesn’t seem to be a direct meaning for black geraniums, we can clearly draw some conclusions on the common name for this flower. Like seriously, mourning widow? They’re also known as dusky cranesbill and black widow. Obviously associated with death (and grief?) and apparently maybe marriage??? Doesn’t help that geraniums can be considered a traditional bridal flower too. I think they’re also associated with melancholy. Anyways, on the other hand, blue blooms usually symbolize calm and peace while purple blooms symbolize royalty, accomplishments and admiration. 

So in context to the blooms we see at the end of ep 11, grieving for the loss of someone (Rem, his memories), rising to his Plant roots (haha get it?) and being ‘at peace’. 

HEY LET'S TALK ABOUT DOGWOOD

So I remember reading somewhere that he’s named after a singer or band or something but– His name is so close to dogwood that I could not pass it up.

Dogwood is a blooming tree that seems to have a representation in Christianity. There’s a legend about the tree and Easter. So apparently, the cross that Jesus was crucified on was made from Dogwood, because of such it was cursed and blessed. Cursed to be small so it can’t be used to make another cross but blessed to bloom beautiful flowers at Easter time.

The flowers of the Dogwood trees always bloom with four petals, like a cross, the center like a crown of thorns. Each tip of the petal is indented like it's been pierced with a nail and discolored like it was stained with blood. So goes the story. 

I think it's interesting that Wolfwood’s name is so likened to this flower/plant and I don’t believe this is unintentional. LIke it’s right there. Cursed by the Eye of Michael to grow too fast, blessed to be strong and hard to kill. Is/bears the cross that brings Vash to Knives in the end. 

Lilies (and other Flowers)

So, I personally think the plants look a lot like lilies. And lilies are commonly attributed to the virgin Mary. They typically represent purity, innocence and rebirth. They are often gifted at mourning flowers as well and are one of the most popular flowers at funerals.

Either that or the blue-eyed Mary flower, which has less meaning attributed to it other than its name.

Anyways, that's all my thoughts for today. Thank you for reading all the way down here if you make it hehe

If people find more flower symbolism or have thoughts please let me know, I want to hear them!!!<3

Geranium history and meaning: https://www.pansymaiden.com/flowers/meaning/geranium/

Geranium and Christianity: http://www.whispersofhismovement.com/2012/04/05/geraniums/

Mourning Widows: https://gardenersapprentice.com/gardeningtips/mourning-widow/

Dogwood story: https://www.plantmegreen.com/blogs/news/easter-and-the-legend-of-the-dogwood-tree#:~:text=According%20to%20the%20story%2C%20it,cursed%20and%20blessed%20the%20tree.

Lily meaning: https://www.townandcountrymag.com/style/home-decor/a39982524/lily-flower-meaning/