#mum x dew

[heretherebedork]

The ramen noodle kiss, BL's answer to the spaghetti kiss.

[respectthepetty]

Hi! While watching the new episode of 609 Bedtime Story on Friday, I noticed something cinematographic in the background that I’m not sure how to interpret, so I was wondering if you might be able to explain to me what it could mean? (I’m still fairly new to this whole ‘The colors and lines and angles all have a meaning!’ thing, so I often do notice things but don’t know what to do with them.)

I’m talking about the dividing line in the background that appears in the scene at the café, where Mum meets Dew while returning Mint’s phone. It’s not super distinct, but it’s there. And Mum is clearly on his side of the divide, almost maintaining too much distance—maybe because he’s feeling estranged from Dew because he’s not his Dew? Or because he’s consciously trying to stay away from him to avoid making things awkward or to prevent himself from reaching out to him?

Meanwhile, Dew is standing much closer to the dividing line and kind of ... shifting around right at the border, sometimes just barely crossing it. I guess it’s like he’s trying to cross it, but doesn’t know how or can’t? I don’t know, that’s just my interpretation. The question to me is why, if he doesn’t remember who Mum is.

And then, when Dew crashes into the waiter behind him and falls right into Mum’s arms (I was feeling so sorry for Mum, because he gets to hold his boy but said boy doesn’t even remember him), they briefly meet in the middle, thereby crossing the divide for the duration of their hug. Although, really it’s just Dew who has crossed it, Mum remains on his side the entire time, with the exception of his hands that are around Dew.

But as soon as their hug ends, they’re both back on their respective sides, with Mum as far away from the line as he was before, and with Dew closer to it, once again, but still firmly on his side and not quite as close to it as he was before the hug.

I guess my question from all of this is: why? What’s happening here? I understand that their hug brought them together for a moment and that’s how they were able to cross the divide, because they were no longer separated in that moment and they were having a connection, but why does it seem to be Dew who’s always trying to cross over to Mum’s side? Especially if he doesn’t remember him?

(As a side note: do you think the horizontal line spanning the glass wall behind them is doing anything? Is there any meaning to it?)

I don’t know, maybe I’m misinterpreting or over-interpreting some stuff or overlooking something, but I thought maybe you’d have an idea, since you always seem to be able to pick up on these things and actually understand how they work (for which I greatly admire you, and I’m working on getting there too). Also, I’m sorry this got so long and convoluted. I hope you don’t mind me basically using you as a way to rant and vent my spinning thoughts and asking you about this. I’m really trying to learn how this stuff works because it’s a joy to notice and understand, so I’m using every chance I get to learn.

I hope you have an amazing day (and a great time watching the last episode of Between Us later today, fingers crossed it’ll be as good as it gets)!

@annamusic125-blog - I'm so happy you invited me to this conversation, but don't EVER apologize for big brain energy like this! You did amazing with your analysis and provided great visuals to support your claims. I am thrilled that you saw the lines too and that you noticed who crossed them! It's tough for people to acknowledge the background noise, so your observation skills are exceptional!

*This GIF comes from Parasite which did a fantastic job of using lines to show class divides and demonstrate people "crossing the lines" as well as utilizing stairs and building floors to show class status and wealth. AKA the movie helps people see the lines they may miss in other media.

Lines can be so subtle that we may not even realize they are there, like the line that divides Nueng and Palm in the beginning of Never Let Me Go.

Or the subtle lines that Wang always crosses with Inthawut in 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us (lines and barriers are significant in this show and integrated into the narrative extremely well).

But this is something that Golf and Suthipong, the director and cinematographer of both 609 Bedtime Story and The Eclipse, love to use - the subtle divides

But it's not just the divides they enjoy; it's the crossing of those divides

And it's the connection that runs through the divides. A strong line that is not vertical tends to be used for connecting characters.

When Akk started this argument with Ayan, Ayan was below the horizontal line and on his side of the wall.

But when the argument ends, Ayan is equal with Akk and the horizontal line that runs through Akk ends at Ayan. The line that once divided them is now used to connect them. Note: Ayan is always the one to cross the line in the beginning.

The lines don't have to be horizontal either. They can be diagonal, but normally, a diagonal line also builds balance.

All of this is to support exactly what you are thinking - the horizontal line is connecting Mum and Dew.

As you noted, Dew is so close to crossing the vertical line, but you asked why if he doesn't know this Mum? Because the show is proving that any version of Dew wants to be with any version of Mum regardless of the universe. This is reinforced by the vertical lines that divide Dew and Mint.

No matter the universe, there is always a line or object that divides Mint and Dew. It even appears in Mum's original universe between them.

But you might be thinking, they have the horizontal line too. Yes, because an each universe they are connected (at the head, not the body or the heart), but the barrier exists here too with much more space than what Dew gives Mum. With Mint, Dew always leaves plenty of space.

But he crosses the line or barrier with Mum each time

Which is why fate has him cross the line here

Mum is maintaining so much space between them because he doesn't want to ruin his sister's happiness. He knows if he gets too close to Dew, he will give in, so fate pushes them together and does what Mum can't. Dew is so close to the line because he doesn't know the information that Mum does. He is physically reacting to Mum's presence, unaware of what draws him to Mum, but willing to cross the line to see.

Don't forget the colors!

P'Golf established the colors in an introduction video to the series: Mum's original world is green, yellow, and red. Dew's world is blue. Their 609 fantasy world is purple. Mum, as much as he is distancing himself from his world's Dew, he is still very much connected to his 609 fantasy world Dew -

He makes this Dew a purple drink, with a purple lily (fantasy world Dew's favorite), in his purple shirt, a color he hasn't worn before. The Dew he gives it to is not the 609 fantasy world Dew, but the transference of the color is another link between any version of Mum and any version of Dew because later on, this Dew enters the fantasy world and sleeps with Mum.

Golf and Suthipong are visually showing us that Mum and Dew are connected no matter what and will continue to cross the lines because regardless of the universe, they are drawn to each other.

Good eye! I hope you are proud of yourself for your remarkable attention to detail and thanks for the ask.

[gabrielokun]

[hoolalafoolalal]

Mum, Nook, Vee, Game, all sharing one braincell: let's call the ghost from Mum's room and ask him if Mum had s*x with him.

P'Ton : FOR THE LAST TIME, CUT THE VEGETABLES AND LET ME MAKE OPEN THE RESTAURANT TO MAKE A LIVING FOR YOU DUMB FU*KS.

[bellarkeandclintashaandsuch]

So when Mum tells Dew he loves him, Dew doesn’t remember the noodle thing or the rooftop talk and yelling training, right? Because those haven’t happened in his timeline yet? So confusing

[nerdyrobotsjewelry]

Room 609 Bedtime Stories Dew and Mum Bracelet.

[pfhwrittes]

"you love him. you've loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later." TW: references to transphobic bullying, angst, fluff, allusions to offscreen smut, alcohol mention, menstruation mention. pairing: kyle x ftm!reader

1.5k words of childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers. as always i've barely edited it so typos and errors may remain. edit to add: a massive thank you and shout out to @gemmahale for cheerleading me with this one and reminding me to trust my instincts. i love you a lot.

-- you love him. you’ve loved him since he first shared his curly-wurly during break time at primary school. head over heels puppy love. your mum teasing you with a “my little girl with her first boyfriend!” despite the way it makes your cheeks burn (and something twist inside your chest) when you both stand shyly together at 3.15 hand in hand waiting to go home. 

you love kyle when he’s the joseph to your mary in the nativity. you love the way the teatowel your mum leant his mum slips into his eyes and causes him to laugh and forget his next line about needing to find an inn. you love him when he wraps you up in a big hug when missus king takes a photo of you both as your mum cheers the loudest from the back of the little crowd in the assembly hall. 

you love kyle even when you both grow up and go to secondary school at 11, split up into different form groups and different timetables. you love him even more when he folds you into his little band of miscreants, “one of the boys” he says with a cheeky grin that warms you all the way through.

you love kyle when he chooses you first for the biology practical lesson, flicking little slithers of onion at you to make you laugh, despite the way anna-marie looks you up and down and whispers something cruel about how “he just pities the he-she” loud enough for you to hear. 

you love kyle when he skives off school with you the day your period takes you unaware. he sneaks in through the kitchen door 15 minutes after your mum leaves for work, a battered curly-wurly and bottle of oasis clutched in one hand and his rucksack in the other. you love him when he settles onto the sofa, dragging your duvet over the two of you, flicking the telly on so you can both watch bargain hunt together. 

you love kyle the day he cuddles you into his chest, completely uncaring about the way your snot and tears mark his t-shirt as you sob, both of you curled up on your bed. you love him so completely when he listens to you stutter out that you think you’re not really a girl. you still love him when he pulls away for the first time, a tiny frown on his face. you still love him when he doesn’t reply to your text asking him if he got home alright later that night. 

you still love kyle when he starts ignoring you in school, no longer coming to find you during lunchtime. you still love him when he doesn’t laugh along with harry when you trip during design tech but he doesn’t stop james hissing “freak show” as you rub at your hip from where you banged into their table. 

you still love kyle even when your mum sits you down at the kitchen and asks you how you feel about moving schools at 16. you still love kyle when you ask her “but what about kyle?” and her voice catches when she offers you a gentle “oh love” with wet eyes. 

you still love kyle when he stumbles into you at mattie’s house party when you’re both 18, a shocked look on his face when he takes in your close cropped hair and wispy facial hair on your cheeks, despite the fact you haven’t spoken in years. you still love kyle even when he calls you the wrong name and your mumble gets swallowed up by cheers from the kitchen as someone spots kyle in the hallway. you still love kyle when you spot him crowd mattie’s older sister georgia up against the bannister and kiss her breathless before leading her up the stairs with his hand on her waist. you still love kyle when you end up sobbing into alex’s neck, their hand rubbing your back gently as the dew from the front lawn soaks the knees of your jeans. you still love kyle even as alex murmurs that “you should just forget him babe” into your hair as you sob anew.

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle the next time you run into him, many years later when you pop into the pub under oath from mattie to meet her for a quick pint to catch up. you recognise the shape of kyle’s smile even if he is partially turned away to grin at a man with broad shoulders and a slightly flattened mohawk standing next to him at the bar. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when he catches you looking and his smile slips momentarily as he offers you a tiny nod of acknowledgement before turning back to his friend. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle even when your eyes keep drifting over to him and the other three men in the corner booth as mattie fills you in on everything you missed during your years travelling around australia. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle when you bump into him again in the same pub the following week. literally bumping into him as you turn away from the bar with a pint in your hand. kyle steadies you with a hand on your forearm and you feel your heart soar before plummeting into the sticky carpet at your feet. you pull your arm away from him and your drink sloshes over the rim of your glass as you offer him a tight smile before stepping to the side. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle, but you can’t help but feel the warmth of his hand long after you’ve rejoined mattie and alex at your table. 

you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but a thrill goes up your spine when he asks you if he could “have a word with you, mate” as he joins you in the beer garden the week after that. you’ve forgotten how much you loved kyle but your heart aches as he stumbles his way through an apology. you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he makes you stutter out a surprised laugh when he talks about his friend soap knocking some sense into him. 

you’ve forgotten how much you missed your friend kyle when he texts you asking if you want to join him and his sisters for a chinese. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he hands you his vegetable spring rolls without asking. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when after dinner he leads you up to his childhood bedroom and he kicks his dirty socks under his bed like you’ve seen him do many times before. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when your ribs ache from laughing and he’s wearing that beautiful grin. 

you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he slips into the open seat next to you at the pub, his arm slung over the back of your chair, much to the matching shocked expressions of mattie and alex. you’ve forgotten how much you’ve missed your friend kyle when he takes alex’s frosty demeanour on the chin. you fall in love with your friend kyle again when he responds to mattie’s pointed rhetorical “you know you broke his heart, yeah?” with a small squeeze to your shoulder and serious “i know, i was a fucking idiot.”.

you fall in love with kyle again when his hands shake on your waist as he leans in to kiss you outside your house under the flickering glow of a streetlight. just like you hoped he would so many years ago when you were both teenagers. you fall in love with kyle again when he pulls away to take in your stupefied expression and he asks if you’re okay, if he can kiss you again. you fall in love with kyle again when he gently turns you around so he can push you up against the front door to trail sucking kisses down your neck as your keys hit the doormat with a tinkling sound. you fall in love with kyle again when you ask him to slow down - wait - please - as he’s reaching for the top button of your jeans. you fall in love with kyle again when he traces gentle fingers over the scars on your chest, adoration in his eyes.

you love kyle when you trip over your boxers and his shirt the following morning as you stumble to the bathroom. you love kyle when you slip back into bed and he sleepily nuzzles into your neck. you love kyle when his phone blares his alarm from the back pocket of his trousers near the door to your bedroom 30 minutes later. 

you love him. you’ve loved him since you were 9 and you love him now 20 years later as he presses a kiss to your hair. you love him. -- taglist: @kaadaaan

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Part three! Only been a few days but I figured I’d get this one out so I can start on the next. Honestly so grateful to all the love this has gotten already, means a lot x

Masterlist

“Matty?”

It was dull. Almost like a call through the void, or a voice you’re not sure anyone else has heard. But the man in question groaned faintly in retort, squeezing his eyes tightly shut as a wave of pain throbbed in the forefront of his mind. It was slow going but he soon opened them, though they were unwilling to adjust to the sudden stream of light that wilted the room around him.

Breathing in and clicking his neck, Matty forced himself into a proper sitting position, violently regretting having fallen asleep slumped against the freestanding clawfoot tub the hotel room had to offer. His legs were sprawled out before him and he had a cramp in his left shoulder from where it had been forced into an impossible angle.

A sticky, uncomfortable dampness roused him further from his drowsy state and Matty blinked down at the soiled shirt which clung to his chest. He cringed at the sudden stench that hit him. Definitely sick, he grimaced, swallowing back the heavy bile that attempted to crawl up the back of his throat. Seemed as though he hadn’t had the strength to make it to the toilet last night, which now sat staring back at him mockingly only a few feet away.

Matty rolled his eyes in retort.

Gripping at the edge of the cold tub in a half-arsed attempt to stand, his legs buckled before he could even lift himself up off of the tiled floor and so he huffed. Loudly and with enough irritation that he heard it echo back to him. Taunting, almost teasing him even.

Matty didn't much want to try again, a bit embarrassed by his sudden inability to actually function like a normal being, and so lazily let his bleary eyes trail down towards his lower half, where scuffed black boots were still attached to his feet and the skintight jeans he’d thrown on the afternoon prior were caught around the jutting bones of his knees.

He must’ve gotten warm, Matty deemed, snorting aloud at the very thought before he groaned, once again, at the- rather uncalled for, mind- pounding in his head. Then briefly, he allowed himself to ponder over just how he hadn't developed a total intolerance to it yet, or gained the superpower to numb the effects of the eventual hangover.

With a furrowed brow, Matty tried to recall the events of the previous night, but it had all been so fucking hectic. His memories were often always a little hazy, although recently his days had begun to blur together, clouded around the edges like thick fog sweeping over a dew-covered field. 

They’d been at a club, that much he knew.

“Matty?” The earlier voice rang out again, and its sound only increased the incessant pounding he felt, the shrill of it drilling into the side of skull and carving out a home there.

“Fucks sake.” Matty hissed lowly, his own voice barely floating above a whisper. He used what little energy he had left to kick off his boots and then proceeded to fumble with the jeans that enchained his pale legs. The leather belt attached to them rattled as he tried to dislodge the material, then again when he swept them as far away as his exhausted body would let him.

He wondered if the hotel bar was open yet.

“Matty, mate?” Matty heard just before the bathroom door jolted open to reveal Jamie, the band’s manager, hinges whinging with the force of it making Matty wince again. “There you are. Fucking hell, you don’t half stink, mate!”

Jamie huffed out a heavy breath as he stepped further into the room, already cleaning up the mess Matty had left in his wake last night, swiftly tossing the jeans into the nearby hamper and tucking his boots neatly together by the door. The bloke even went to pick up the few empty bottles by the sink that Matty had yet to notice, and chucked them in the bathroom’s metal bin.

Jamie chuckled lightly as he wandered over to his slumped form, but he didn't look all that humoured. His smile was strained as he stepped over Matty’s legs and Matty himself watched him through a heavy-lidded glare.

See, Jamie was a good friend as well as a manager to them all, he cared. Truly. And Matty knew that, he did, somewhere deep down, which was why he appreciated the fact that Jamie evidently fought to hold back his disgusted grimace when he tugged at the collar of the once white shirt Matty wore. The thing was now stained with God knows what, but did make up a rather impeccable shade of yellow.

“Take this thing off, yeah, so I can throw it. Or better yet, burn it. I mean… Christ, Matty. What the fuck's even on it?" Jamie wrinkled his nose, unable to hide his distaste in that moment. The smell was wafting off of him now that the material was being pulled. “We need to get you looking somewhat decent before your interview."

“What d’you mean, what interview?” Matty questioned hoarsely, fixing Jamie with another narrow eyed glare whilst the man made quick work of unbuttoning his shirt.

“Press, mate. We spoke about it the other day?” 

Jamie sighed, rather evidently in fact, when Matty didn’t react and then pressed his lips firmly together as he tugged the damp shirt off, trying to ignore the wet squelch that sounded as he peeled it away from Matty’s skin.

“The single was postponed for so long, Matty. It’s only fair we do some more promo for it now.” The man told him in a sigh, “But you already knew that.”

Matty ground his teeth.

“All I fucking remember is me telling them to do one.” He spat, uncaring of the way Jamie flinched before the man firmly locked his jaw, seemingly biting his tongue. “Said I didn't even want to release the poxy thing.”

“You also said you’d stay sober on this tour, Matty. Honestly mate, you need to sort yourself out, I can only hold the label and the rest of the team off for so long before they start questioning my loyalties. My job.” Jamie snapped back in frustration.

Matty watched on whilst Jamie threw the sodden shirt into the bath, letting a silence linger between them for a long moment, before the man finally paused and looked down at him. Everyone was always looking down on him these days.

“I mean, what do you reckon would happen if I weren't around to clear up after you, Matt? They’d have your head, mate. Not forgetting about the rest of the guys. Put George in a right panic when he turned ‘round to find you gone last night.”

Matty’s eyes slipped close, suddenly drained, too tired to fight Jamie any longer. Besides, it wasn't as though he hadn't heard it all before. 

His stomach decided it was the best time to betray him then, turning suddenly whilst his head still continued with its assault. The entire bathroom was spinning now and quiet returned to the space as Matty fought not to throw up what little lined his stomach. He couldn't even recall the last time he’d eaten.

The tension which had seemed to buzz between him and Jamie evaporated at the feeling, forcing Matty to reopen his eyes, grimacing in pain.

He found Jamie settled on the closed lid of the toilet seat, watching him closely, and Matty knew he was being an utter wankstain. Definitely looked like one, too.

That understanding only increased tenfold when Jamie spoke up again. “I care about you a lot, mate.” 

Those words instantly set Matty on edge, he wasn’t very used to people still giving a shit. Not anymore.

“I’ve been here from the beginning, man. And honestly, it kills me to watch you slowly kill yourself. The drink, the drugs, your inability to stop yourself from opening your big mouth. I’ve tried my fuckin’ hardest to be a buffer for you, but you don’t help me out much. Instead, it always feels like you’re constantly trying to push me away. To prove to yourself, or maybe everyone else, that you really are better off alone.”

Jamie sighed once more, hands clasped between the knobs of his knees, holding them tight enough that the skin of his knuckles had whitened.

“Just hear me out, yeah? I know you’ve had a shit go of it, know things haven't been easy recently. But I only ever want to help, mate.”

It was then that Matty realised that Jamie sounded tired too. Defeated, even.

“I really do, and I promise I’m doin’ all I can.” He added, “But it’s worth nothing if you can’t even be bothered to help yourself, Matty.”

Jamie left him there soon after with another sigh, telling him one last time to get ready before he let the door fall shut.

***

It was early in the afternoon and I found myself at home for once. 

The rain London was all too used to poured heavily outside of the flat, beating against the window panes and flooding the outer stairwell that dropped out onto the street. My plans to take Teddy to the playground around the corner had been cancelled due to its torrent and so we’d had to make do with a cheap takeaway from the local kebab place and a couple of Disney films I had no interest in at the moment.

It was nice enough though. Soft hums as well as the soundtrack to Tangled danced throughout the living room whilst Teddy munched happily away at his lunch, head bobbing unconsciously to the beat.

I watched him from the corner of the settee, looking at the way his curls swayed and bounced carelessly, how the freckles on his cheeks stretched whenever the kid smiled too hard, or giggled along with the film. I couldn't dim the soft smile I wore, so very grateful for the fact that Teddy got to grow up feeling happy, feeling so carefree. It was a stark comparison to the sheltered life I’d been given.

The reminder of it had my mind reeling slightly, like it often did, but Finn was there, guiding me back with a simple question.

“So, what you gon’ do?”

He’d since flopped down into the armchair adjacent, a fresh cup of tea cradled in his hand. He dipped his head towards the other steaming mug he’d left on the coffee table for me and I sighed gratefully in turn.

I knew exactly what he’d been referring to by asking that question, it’s all I’d been able to ask myself since I’d received that odd email the evening before.

“What can I really do? Didn't sound like I had much choice in the matter.” I shrugged, though mindful of the scolding tea I was now balancing on the top of my thigh. 

My eyes flitted over towards Teddy for a split second before they settled back on Finn, who was eyeing me intently. I tapped the side of the cup.

“I mean, I can't not go through with it. Ads would have my head if I didn’t and his team will probably end up hassling me more.” I muttered, “Just a bit of a ballache, in’t it?”

“How d’you mean, meeting him?” Finn sipped his tea languidly and threw a questioning brow my way from over the rim of it.

I curled further into the settee, head rolling back against the cushion. “‘Spose so. It’s just messing with my head. Fucking regret ever mentioning his name now. Like why me?”

Staring up at the blank ceiling, I recalled the words that had been written to me so seriously, and I still couldn't find it in myself to believe that the Healy’s team actually wanted to schedule a segment on the show!

I’d hardly gotten a wink of sleep last night, that sodding email had set the mood for the rest of my evening, and then had had me on constant edge after waking up at the crack arse of dawn to Teddy’s incessant wailing the very next day.

I’d had to keep on looking back at it, my phone hardly ever leaving my hand as I reminded myself that it was in fact real. Somehow. As I waited for a reply to my own email that I’d agonised over and thought about not even sending.

In all truth, this whole playing the waiting game thing had never really been my forte. Made me anxious, easily irritated. I’d rather shit just hit me on headfirst, at full speed even. And hash things out like that, because dealing with it that way felt so much simpler, I could figure things out when they were right there in front of me.

But this was an odd scenario, I had no utter way of knowing how any of it would pan out, and that thought alone made me itch.

“‘Cause you’re a right gobby cow.” Finn smirked, the strength of it hidden behind the rim of his mug but I could see the mirth his eyes held when I glanced over.

“Sounds about right.”

He scoffed, apparently affronted, then snarked, “When have I ever been wrong, babe?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Finn fixed me with such a sharp look that evidently told me he wasn't open to hearing any of my smart arsed remarks today.

“But truthfully, this whole thing could end up being good for you, you know. For the show, too. You’ll earn a shit ton of listeners just from his name alone and then never have to deal with him or his shit again.”

I hummed and stared down into my milky brew, he had a point.

“Matty Healy. Who would’ve thought it, hey?” I snorted before grinning over at Finn, “He’ll probably be the biggest person we’ll ever have on the show, I reckon. Well, unless we can somehow coerce Elton John into ringing in or something.”

Finn mimicked my expression, only altering it with a wink, “Working on it, babe.”

Teddy squealed brightly at the scene the tele played then and I took the opportunity to push the mug back onto the coffee table, sliding it over the previous ring-mark it had left behind.

When I peered back up, I found that Finn was still watching me from behind the top of his brew. His face had since lost its cheeky demeanour and his eyes had softened somewhat, they seemed to glisten now under the meagre glow of the yellow bulb that illuminated my living room.

“Mouse, I know you better than most, yeah? Remember that.” Finn acknowledged, quietly enough that I couldn't prevent my bemused reaction, but he didnt give me a chance to question the motive of the unusual sincerity that now lined his tone, simply barreled on.

“We both know how you care too much about the things you feel passionate about, whether it’s things or people. And as much as I love you, cause I do. I just don’t want you getting too caught up in something you can’t handle. You’ve got Teds to think about. And you’ve come so far to let that go.”

My forehead furrowed at his words, confused by the speech. Having zero clue as to why Finn was feeling so sentimental all of a sudden, why he was feeling weary over the radio situation.

A shared breath passed between us, only the tele to fill up the quiet.

“Look. All I'm saying is, don’t make it your mission to fix what’s broken, alright?”

I felt my eyes widen at the remark, not joining up the dots quick enough on what I'd said or done to have Finn say something like that. But before I could speak, retaliate or even defend myself, Finn was waving me off with another smile.

“I know you, babe.” He reminded me again, chuckling noiselessly now as he pointed a finger at me, “You’ve always had a soft spot for strays. I mean, you let me in, didn’t you?”

I squawked gracelessly at the very indication, everything he’d said clicking into place, and so I shot him a sharp glare, tossing up two fingers alongside it. "Piss off. I do not!"

Finn cackled at my reaction, head thrown back in merriment.

I rolled my eyes in response, then pushed myself up off the settee to flick his ear as I bypassed the armchair to clean up the messy aftermath of Teddy’s lunch. “Twat.”

“You so do!” Finn teased whilst Teddy scrunched his nose up at me when I accidentally got in the way of the screen.

I headed for the kitchen after, leaving the idiot's laughter behind me, and poured what little dregs remained of my tea down the drain before filling the sink with soapy water. Soon enough, Finn’s laughter dissolved into light chuckles and I listened in distractedly when his familiar voice began to filter through the rest of the flat, as he chattered away with Teddy.

Smiling to myself whilst I washed up, I then wandered back into the livingroom with it still intact and a damp tea towel in my hands. Teddy was prattling away now, attempting to converse with the cartoon characters that moved across the screen, Finn always endeared by the sight of his godson.

He looked up at me when I started to pack away a few of the stray toys that littered the floor and called out to me quietly, not wanting to disturb the enthralled toddler.

I slid a lonely lego block into a nearby box and hummed, crouched down by the cabinet.

“Just, promise me you'll do what's asked of you and then leave it be." Finn wore a thin lipped expression that made me pause in my tracks, it was far too serious for my liking. Especially on him. "That Healy bloke- he's bad news."

I snorted, but Finn just shook his head at me.

“I’m being serious here.” His voice hardly even a whisper now, but it cut through the room like a flying dart. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

I observed him for a long moment, then nodded. Unsure on what I could do to ease his worry, it wasn't often that Finn was so adamant on things like this.

Teddy caught his attention then, the toddler calling out his name just as Flynn Ryder waltzed back onto the screen. And I took a seat back on the settee, deciding that I wasn’t going to press Finn any further on the topic. I had too much on my plate already. And really, what was the worst that could happen?

***

‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc 14:21pm 🎥 | Matty on GQ this afternoon! - a thread >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc Matty on himself and how things are going at the moment - "Fine, I ‘spose. Just been busy. But like, in the greater scheme of things, aren't we all just keepin’ busy? ‘Cause really, we’re all constantly trying to survive, right? We don’t actually stop. Like we’re breathing, moving, and all that crap. But anyway, yeah contrary to popular belief, a lot of work does actually go into releasing a single. So, lots to do, lotta shit I’m working through. George has been full of ideas though. But yeah, things are fine as of right now." >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc Matty on his recent disappearance after last tour - "Uh. Well, I suppose it was just a much needed break really. I had fun, kept to myself, worked on a couple new songs. Honestly, there's not much else to add really. It was all rather boring in all honesty. Can I just ask though, have you lot actually got any interesting questions for me?"  >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc Matty talking about the band’s newest single - "The new single? Hm, well it’s an old one, I wrote it when I was a lot younger, and only got around to producing it when I found this old notebook of mine back home. Guess I'd been really coming into myself at the time- the usual teenage angst and emotion, all that crap- and just wanted to put that whole experience into… words, something I could remember. It's loud, it’s brash, it’s me personified to be honest.” >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc His thoughts on the song as a whole, the process when recording it - "Kind of have to like it, no? It's my song. I mean, do you not like it? Nah no, don't strain yourself, mate. It's fine, taste isn't a fixed state, is it? You like what you like. Love what you love. In all truth though, the song meant a lot to me- back then. So much I actually struggled recording it. Like at first? I didn't really care for any of it, it’d been written ages ago- before the band had even broken into the industry. But the label, yeah, they'd liked the sound of it and so we’d put it on a sort of trial run. But the lyrics they, hah. Well they fucked with me a little when we finally got into the studio. Like I’m talking about it being a proper headfuck here. It was proper strange to hear them and then remember everything that went on during the time they were written. You're transported, in a way."  >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc Matty working on the next album - "It’ll come when it comes! Dunno when, never been the type of artist to just throw dates out there or set myself limits. So, just know that it's being worked on. ‘Spose we’ve gotta finish it first."  >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc Matty on the recent headlines he's made and the drama which followed since the ‘Mouse On A Mic’ radio show aired their segment on him earlier this week -  "Should have known this would come up, really. But yeah, what does everyone even want me to say? I don't remember what happened, to tell you the truth. The media, as well as the fans, they can think what they like. I can't actually bring myself to care anymore, you know? It's boring and so time consuming. I'd much prefer to focus on the music at this point. Can we move the fuck on now?" >‘75 Updates! @/1975updatesacc Apologies but the interview cuts out here unexpectedly! The show just released a statement informing us that Matty’s FaceTime call dropped suddenly and they were unable to reconnect, but we loved seeing him! It's been too long!! Comment what your favourite part of the interview was!

[tomhiddleston]

One More Tomorrow (Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader) - Chapter II.

CHAPTER I.

Summary: Billy's crush returns to The Halcyon for her seventeenth birthday and the two of them enjoy more chances to grow closer.

Pairing: Billy Taylor x Fem!Reader (third person)

TW: so much fluff, blink and you miss it Billy having some impure thoughts, mention of death of a parent, Billy being Billy again

Word Count: 5.5k+

A/N: I love Billy Taylor so much that I want to scream, explode out of my body, and ascend to the moon. That's the author's note. Also, thanks again to @valeskafics for giving this a read-through for me! c:

Disclaimer: I do not own any The Halcyon characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are always appreciated!

Art deco dividers by @saradika

It is the longest summer of Billy’s life, waiting for the months to tick by and November to finally arrive. Every day is just another shift. The same old thing day in and day out. Now and then, Billy catches himself staring wistfully at the marble staircase as though he will see her coming down to have lunch with her father or pop out for a bit of shopping. He even starts dreaming about her. About taking her dancing or going on a drive through the country. One morning he wakes up blushing after dreaming about her in a wedding dress, walking down the aisle toward him in a church filled to the brim with white roses. 

Does she dream about him, too?

The stiflingly hot summer months wane on and Billy continually bothers Mr. Garland about the Greenes’ return visit to The Halcyon. Every time he asks, the answer is the same: there has been no request yet about any birthday party, whether for Mr. Greene or his daughter. Billy starts to wonder if she won’t return in the fall. If, maybe, she’s found a beau in Birmingham - one she would rather celebrate her birthday with. One her father might actually approve of.

He starts to mope around The Halcyon when August turns into September with still no word, enough that even Mr. Garland begins to notice. His mum, Peggy, has seen the most of his gloomy mood out of anyone, what with having to watch him drag his feet around their house every morning and night. “It’s about that girl again,” she tells Mr. Garland and both share a sigh. Young love can be such an overwhelming, complicated thing. But this is Billy’s first time coming face to face with it, and she hates to see her sweet boy - her eldest child and only son - like this.

Peggy is, therefore, elated when a letter arrives at The Halcyon addressed to Billy. When he arrives to have tea with her that afternoon, she wiggles her finger at the mailboxes beside her desk and tells him to look. 

But who would write to him? His confused expression only warrants a smile from his mother.

“It’s from Birmingham, Billy.”

He very nearly throws his teacup to the ground to lunge for the letter. Sure enough, that’s his name written in delicate cursive on the back of the envelope. His heart is pounding out of his chest as he tears open the letter and finds an automobile sketch inside with a single folded piece of paper. A handwritten letter so perfect that it almost looks printed.

Dear Billy,

Mr. Garland said you liked my father’s automobiles, so I managed to get one of his original sketches of the Model F for you. It’s not much, but I hope you will like it all the same.

I’ll see you in November.

She’s signed the letter “yours truly.” Not “sincerely,” not “regards.” He’ll be pouring over the meaning of that one for days. But, no matter the meaning of the signature… she’s remembered him. She’s thought of him. She’s taken the time to write to him! And she does still plan on returning to The Halcyon. 

Suddenly, his dreary summer no longer feels so dreary.

November 1939.

The leaves on the trees lining the streets of London have turned orange and fallen. The grass, once kissed with glittering morning dew, slumps from the heavy frost that coats it each sunrise. It hasn’t snowed yet, but winter’s chill is beginning to set in in earnest. 

None of the ladies at The Halcyon dare step through the front doors without their heavy coats, gloves, and scarves any longer lest they catch their death, they lament. The fireplaces roar at all hours to offer some heat to the towering lobby. The doormen keep the doors shut as much as possible to trap the warmth inside. Cold manages to seep in every now and then when an unfortunately timed breeze blows through just as someone is stepping in or out, but it’s never severe enough to linger.

It is only a few weeks before The Halcyon’s lobby will be stripped of its usual flowers, vases, and other decorative trinkets and decked out in full Christmastime splendor. But first, the hotel must play host to the seventeenth birthday party of a certain young woman. And her father has spared no expense in decorating the lobby and the bar for the occasion. 

Before the Greenes even arrive, the lobby is filled with dozens of arrangements of white and pink roses in gold vases. Mr. Greene even commissioned a special tiered gold chandelier for the occasion, which hangs low over a stunning centerpiece of peonies, hydrangeas, roses, and lilies enhanced with sparkling Swarovski crystals. 

The other bellboys whinge about the decorations being too much, but Billy just brushes them off. He knows in his heart that they aren’t enough. Every flower in the world wouldn’t be enough to match her beauty.

He’s proven himself correct when the front doors swing open and she walks in, arm linked with her father’s while the other holds onto her dog’s lead. Billy has made sure that he is the one to take her coat and hat. He notices the coy smile on her rouged lips as he slips the coat off of her shoulders and the soft blush that blooms on her cheeks when his fingers brush against her upper arm. 

“Hello, miss,” he mutters softly, unable to hide his own smile. His heart is full to bursting at being so close to her again. The warm, rosy scent of her perfume is filling his nostrils and making his head spin.

“Hi,” she whispers over her shoulder, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “It’s good to see you.”

“You…” Billy’s mouth has gone so dry that he can’t finish what was meant to be a two-word sentence. He clears his throat to no avail. “Uh huh.”

She’s quickly whisked away by her father and Mr. Garland, who are eager to show off the decorations to her. It’s clear that she isn’t used to such grand gestures, seeing how she nervously clasps her hands in front of her and shifts from one foot to the other. Billy drinks in the sight of her, in her pale blue dress that he guesses has been tailored to fit her judging by the way it so perfectly hugs her every curve. His eyes linger perhaps a little too long on her bum because he hears Feldman clear his throat. 

“Come along, lover boy. Luggage to unload.”

Billy doesn’t see her again until the following afternoon, when he is sent up to her room to take her dog out for a walk. She’s otherwise preoccupied, Feldman says. If it were for anyone else - even His Lordship himself - Billy would have groaned and grumbled about having to stumble about the streets of London being dragged along by a dog. He doesn’t even want to think about the more than few occasions when he’s lost control of a dog’s lead and left the guest’s beloved pet to run amok in the streets. He’s had to dodge cars chasing after more than one poodle or bulldog, only to return to The Halcyon completely out of breath and with his bellboy hat and cloak all askew.

But he won’t let that happen to her dog. There is no way that he will treat this dog as anything but the most precious jewel in the world. 

Walking toward the lobby, he has wrapped the lead around his wrist twice so there is no possibility for the dog to break free. He does thank his lucky stars that the dog is so small and well behaved. Even less of a chance to muck things up. Still… he can’t help but feel nerves churning in his stomach at the thought of something happening to the animal.

“Alright there, Clara?” he asks the corgi as she trots along happily beside him down the stairs. “It’s you and me today. Please be good, yeah?”

“Don’t worry. She always is.” 

Billy freezes. He knows that voice. 

When he looks up, his eyes meet hers. He’s been standing at his post by the door all day, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but he wasn’t expecting to see her right now. His free hand tugs at his uniform jacket to make sure he looks perfectly tidy and in order.

“Clara, are you going for a walk with Billy today?” She coos in a high-pitched voice to the dog, who spins in a circle in excitement. He watches a small crinkle form at the corner of her eye as she smiles at her beloved pet. Her cheeks and nose are pink from the cold and her hair is windswept, but she still looks as lovely as ever. “Do you… mind if I join you?”

“N-not at all,” Billy replies, sounding more nervous than he’d like to. “Bit cold out, though.” No, he reprimands himself. Don’t try to dissuade her, you idiot! He’s fidgeting with his hands again like he does every time he talks to her. Get it together, Billy.

“It is, but… I need a break from all this last-minute party planning. If I have to look at another table setting, I think I’ll die of boredom.” She rolls her eyes dramatically to emphasize her hyperbole, but Billy still prickles at the mere thought of it. 

“I don’t want you to die,” he responds with a little too much sincerity. But he means it. He can’t think of anything that would be worse.

“All the more reason for me to join you, then, Billy.” 

Her smile softens the tightness in his jaw. He offers a crooked grin in return, but he’s kicking himself inside. Will he ever stop making a fool of himself in front of this girl? He could tell himself a thousand times to act normally around her and he would still muck it all up the second he opens his mouth to speak to her. And yet, she doesn’t seem to mind? She might even… like him? 

He reckons he’ll never understand girls.

Their walk with Clara winds up being the longest they’ve ever spent alone together. It’s so much more than a stolen glance across the hotel lobby or a few minutes spent chatting when he brings her tea. They are strolling through Hyde Park side by side, almost in a world of their own. This isn’t the time of year when mums are out with their babies in prams or old couples are walking hand in hand among the trees. Due to the cold, the park is uncharacteristically empty and quiet, save for their own shoes crunching along the stone path and the jingle of Clara’s collar.

But the very best part is that Billy has gotten a chance to hold a proper conversation with her. If by “conversation” he means “letting her tell him about herself while he bloody clams up yet again.” She tells him about her life in Birmingham, about a book she’s reading, about her father’s company. Anything and everything. He’s happy to hear her talk. He’d listen to her read the dictionary aloud if it meant he could hear the sound of her bright, sweet voice. She has a way of softening the inflection at the end of her sentences that is so warm, so comforting. 

“Billy.” His head snaps toward her like it does every time she says his name. “Is it true that your mum works at The Halcyon, too?”

“Yeah… she’s the telephonist.”

“Oh. I’ve spoken to her, then.” A realization dawns on her and she laughs, throwing her head back in a way that makes his ears go hot. “Oh… Mrs. Taylor. I’m so silly. I should have known. She seems nice.” 

“She is.” Billy wrinkles his nose. “Bit overbearing, though. Sometimes…” He’s convinced that his mum still sees him as her little boy the way she treats him at times. Fussing over his hair, fixing his collar, tying his shoes. As if he isn’t turning eighteen next year. 

“Yeah, but that’s just her being your mum, isn’t it? They’re supposed to be like that. It just means she loves you.”

Billy shrugs. Doesn’t make his mum any less annoying about it. “What about your mum?” 

He realizes he’s well and truly stepped in it when he sees her face fall. He had wondered why only she and her father had been to The Halcyon, but guessed that maybe her mum didn’t fancy traveling. But the way she purses her lips and stares at her feet as they continue walking suggests something else. 

“She died when I was four.” 

“Oh–” Billy feels his heart sink at having brought up such a sorrowful memory. He wants to apologize a million times and it wouldn’t be enough to convey how sorry he is.

“Please don’t feel bad about asking. It’s been so long that I… I don’t really remember her. It’s just been me and dad all this time. And he makes sure I know that I’m loved.” She laughs dryly. “I mean, look at how completely overboard he’s gone with this birthday party. I guess that’s his version of being overbearing.”

Billy’s expression softens. “Well, but… you deserve it, though. I’d throw you a party like that. If I had the money.” He realizes what he’s just said and hurriedly attempts to cover his tracks. “I mean…! If I was your dad. No–” Bloody hell, you’ve just made it worse. 

She laughs in the same way she does whenever he fumbles over his words with her. Not laughing at him, not laughing like he’s stupid like other people tend to do. It’s a genuine, sweet laugh accompanied by that glimmer in her eyes that he loves so much. He pulls his lips inward as he feels new heat rush to his cheeks. 

“Did you get my letter, Billy? From this summer?”

His previous embarrassment almost completely forgotten, his face lights up in a wide grin. He becomes more animated than he’s ever been around her, almost bouncing along the path beside her. She clearly notices, judging by the way she smiles.

“Oh, god. Yeah, I did…! That sketch by your dad… that was bloody incredible!”  

She laughs again, a laugh that seems to warm the air around them. “I’m so glad you liked it.” 

“Liked it? I… I loved it. The Model F is the most brilliant car on the market. But you… know that…” Billy stops himself before he begins to fanboy even more. He feels a little flutter in his heart as he glances sideways at her, though. He dips his head a bit in a moment of sudden bashfulness. “Can’t believe you… you know. Thought of me.”

“‘Course I did.”

Billy turns it over again and again in his mind, trying to decipher the meaning of her words. If he weren’t such an idiot, he’d come right out and ask her. But the words bloom and die on his tongue in an instant. 

He can’t remember a time when a girl ever looked twice at him, let alone thought of him when they weren’t together. Had she really taken time to think about him when she had returned home to Birmingham? Did she think of him when she took tea every afternoon, or when she removed her coat upon stepping inside her house? 

His silence eventually prompts her to prod him with a question of her own.

“Did… you think of me, too, Billy?”

His eyes are wide when he turns to her. He doesn’t mean to stare at her like some startled animal, but he can’t bloody help it. The thought of divulging the truth to her strikes the fear of God in him. 

“Yeah, I did,” is all he can manage to push past the frog in his throat.

Yes, he thought of her. He thought of her every morning as he stepped foot into the hotel lobby. He thought of her whenever he passed the flower shop at the end of his street and smelled the freshly cut roses they had for sale. He thought of her on rainy days, on sunny days. He thought of her morning and night. 

Even his younger sister, Dora, eventually started to notice how Billy seemed to float around their house whenever he would start to think about her. Being only eight years old, it had been a prime opportunity for the younger Taylor sibling to tease her brother relentlessly. But not even Dora’s incessant needling could have dissuaded Billy from thinking about the charming, beautiful girl from Birmingham who had smiled at him and made him feel wanted. Nothing could.

That’s what Billy would have said to her if he’d had the courage to do so. 

Instead, he just manages to flash a shy little smile that seems to satisfy her because she responds with one of her own. 

“Will I see you around at my party tomorrow night?” 

“Yeah… I’ll be working.” 

She doesn’t know that he begged and pleaded with one of the other bellboys to switch shifts with him so that he could be there. He doesn’t tend to work such late evenings. His mum prefers him to be home for dinner. But he would have done anything to be there for her party, even if it means that he will be stood by the door taking hats and coats all night.

“I wish you could come to the party itself,” she mutters softly, perhaps thinking that he can’t hear her. She sounds so earnest that it gives him butterflies. “My dad and my cousin Margaret won’t tell me what they’ve got planned, but I think it'll be a real gas.”

Billy knows he may be a bit daft sometimes, but he isn’t stupid enough to think that he could be anything but a bellboy at her party. When he’s alone with her, it feels a bit like they aren’t from different social classes. That the earrings she wears aren’t real diamonds and her clothes haven’t come from the finest shops in London. That he isn’t a lad from down the street who’s never owned anything that wasn’t second hand. She treats him like he’s someone. Someone worth talking to, worth listening to. Someone who is more than just another worker whose name she’ll forget by the next day.

It brings him crashing back down to earth every time he steps out of their little bubble and back into the real world. In the end, he’s just a bellboy. And she’s a beautiful heiress. Love, affection, even friendship between people like them is something forbidden. That is something that Billy must constantly remind himself of. It hangs in the very air around them whenever he is with her. But it does not stop him from wanting her.

“I’m sure you’ll have a great time,” Billy says, and he means it. “I hope you do.”

Billy laments that they’ve been walking for long enough that The Halcyon has come back into view. Their approach spells the end of their walk together. It’s a return to that real world where they must go their separate ways; him, to his work, and her, to her glittering, beautiful life. 

The hotel lobby welcomes them back with the warmth of the fireplaces, which helps them begin to shake off the November chill. Theirs is a quick goodbye as her cousin pulls her away, shrilly and breathlessly admonishing her for disappearing when there is still so much to do for the party. But she’s sure to give Billy one last tender smile before she disappears into the restaurant.

There’s hardly any room to breathe, let alone move, through The Halcyon lobby on the night of her seventeenth birthday party. If anyone thought there had been too many flowers in the room before, then they would have had to rethink their definition of “excess” upon seeing the state of the lobby tonight. 

Flowers, mostly white roses, cover every pillar, frame every doorway, cover every rung on the bannister. There is even an archway created entirely from flowers at the top of the staircase - the perfect setting for the birthday girl’s grand entrance. And the gold accents have only been expanded upon since the day before. In some places, the light bounces off of the gold candelabras and vases in such a way that it casts a warm reflection on the walls and floor. It’s the most extravagant affair that Billy has seen at The Halcyon in more than a year of working there.

And it’s all for her.

The buzz in the room dies down in an instant when Mr. Greene appears in the archway at the top of the stairs, delivering a short speech about the gathering of family and friends that is eloquent without any of the stuffiness of having been rehearsed. It’s clear by the reaction of the crowd that he has a natural charisma about him - something that his daughter has clearly inherited from him. 

Billy’s eyes widen as she steps out from behind the flowers after being beckoned by her father. There must be a hundred people packed into the lobby, but it’s as though a spotlight has been shined on her. Flash bulbs pop and the room erupts into applause. But all that seems to exist in this moment… is her.

Billy enjoys the perfect view of her from where he stands beside Feldman by front doors. She’s wearing her hair in an elegant updo with roses pinned into her low bun. Her gold floor length gown cascades around her like a sparkling waterfall, flowing over each step of the staircase as she and her father begin to descend arm in arm. The dress is modest, with long sleeves and a v-neck that doesn’t show off too much. But the gold fabric gathers at the waist in a way that accentuates her lovely figure. Billy can’t help but bristle at the thought of all the young men who will get to dance with her tonight and rest their hands on the soft curve of her waist.

But when her eyes meet his from across the room - however briefly - all his jealousy and longing melts away in an instant. 

Billy spends the rest of the evening at his post but finds himself craning his neck each time the door to the hotel bar opens, on the off chance that he will catch a glimpse of her in her beautiful gold dress. He thinks he does once or twice, but he can never be sure. 

The night wanes on and Billy begins to yawn. He’s never worked this late before. If he wasn’t here, he’d probably be fast asleep by now. Feldman tries to send him home at half past eleven, but he just shrugs him off. 

“Billy, you’re falling asleep standing up. Go home.”

Billy hums and shakes his head, lifting a hand to his face to rub at his eyes. “Can’t go yet.”

“What are you waiting for, Billy? For me to have to carry your ugly mug home because you’ve fallen asleep on the job?” Feldman’s rising annoyance with him makes him blush.

“I…” Billy stares at his feet. “Could you do me a favor, Feldman?”

Fifteen minutes later, Billy is pacing back and forth in the dark restaurant on the opposite end of the hotel from the bar. The chairs have been flipped and placed atop the tables for the night. The silverware sits, polished and ready for the next day. The curtains are drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows, with only the softest light from the street lamps outside filtering through them. Only the sconces on either side of the door offer any real light to the room. 

Billy has removed his bellboy hat and nervously sweeps his palm over his slicked-back hair to ensure that not even a single hair is out of place. In his free hand, he clutches a small, wrapped box with such a vice grip that his knuckles have gone white. And he continues to pace and pace and pace while he waits for the restaurant door to open.

When he sees the small crack of light at the door begin to grow and spread across the carpet, he stands at full attention with his hands behind his back. Somehow, his heart begins to beat more quickly than it already has been when she peers around the door. Her furrowed brow softens the moment she lays eyes on him.

“Billy… hi.” She’s smiling, and the light beside the door hits her face in a way that gives her an angelic glow. “Heard you wanted to see me.”

If only she knew just how badly he’s wanted to see her all night. He drinks in the sight of her, looking her up and down. He notices little details that he didn’t see from across the room earlier. The teardrop earrings she’s wearing that match her necklace. The little curled strands of hair that fall on either side of her face. The pink lipstick that’s different from the red she usually wears. He’s sure to be quick about it, not wanting it to seem like he’s asked her there just to ogle at her. 

“You look…” 

“Exhausted?” She jokes, but the sincerity on his face gives her pause.

“Beautiful.”

The lighting may be a bit rubbish for seeing her properly, but even he can tell that he’s made her blush. Her hand flies to her cheek as if to hide her smile. Her eyes fall to the floor. Surely she’s been complimented dozens of times tonight. He reckons - he hopes - that his has meant the most of them all.

“Thank you, Billy,” she breathes, finally pulling herself together enough to respond. “You look handsome, too.”

He’s caught completely off guard. The very air seems to leave his lungs. At first, all he can do is shake his head and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m… just in me uniform…” 

She takes a step toward him and he swallows hard. It still feels so hard to bloody breathe. “But you always look handsome… doesn’t matter what you’re wearing.”

It’s by some small miracle that Billy doesn’t fall to the ground unconscious right then and there. He very nearly drops the gift he’s still holding behind his back. It’s only when he has to fumble to catch it so it doesn’t tumble to the ground that he remembers why he had Feldman have her come see him.

“I… I, uh…” he flounders trying to speak again. “Bout to be off for the night, but, uh… didn’t wanna leave til…” He clears his throat. “Til I gave you this.”

“What?” He sees her eyes narrow suspiciously, although she keeps her lips turned up in a smile.  

Billy takes a step toward her, dotting out his tongue to wet his lips. “Close your eyes… and hold out your hands.” 

She does exactly as he asks, letting her eyes fall closed before she extends her perfectly manicured hands. Into her cupped palms, he placed the little box he’s kept in his locker all night. He’s seen the pile of gifts that she’s received tonight, the big boxes with their shiny wrapping paper and bags tied up with perfect bows. The one in her hands is no bigger than a makeup compact, and wrapped in crinkled newspaper with a paltry, crooked bow made out of twine. It’s hardly the most glamorous gift she’s gotten, probably ever. He almost feels embarrassed as he sees it resting atop her hands.

When she opens her eyes and sees what he’s given her, she doesn’t react in disappointment. Rather, Billy watches her face light up in a smile.

“Billy… you didn’t have to–”  

Billy rocks back onto his heels and offers a little shrug. “I know… but I… I had to get you something for your birthday. You only turn seventeen once.”

She’s holding the little gift as though it’s a delicate baby bird. “Do you want me to open it now?”

“Well, I– I mean, you don’t have to…” What if she didn’t like it? She wouldn’t have to pretend to be grateful if he wasn’t there when she unwrapped her gift.

But his words go in one of her ears and out of the other. She carefully plucks the bow open and unveils the ruby red box that’s been hiding beneath the newspaper. Inside it, she finds a delicate rose brooch. The stem is made out of a shiny gold that matches all the gold accents dotted about the hotel lobby. The petals themselves are white. Billy thinks he remembers the shopkeeper say that it’s porcelain. 

“Happy birthday.”

“Oh, Billy…” she whispers as she admires the brooch.

He saved up for months to buy it for her after seeing it in the window of the pawn shop down the road from his house on his way home from work one day. His mum and dad usually expect him to chip in for necessities now that he’s employed. “It’s your money, Billy,” his mum said to him when he asked if he could keep a little more to save for the brooch. He put away every penny he could after that. What should have taken him six months to save up, he saved in only four. 

“I, uh… saw it and thought of you,” Billy says warmly. “I know how you… like roses and all…” 

She delicately lifts the brooch from its box and lays it flat in her palm to see it better in the light. She turns it over and over again, treasuring every last detail. And all the while, the smile in her eyes shimmers brighter than the sun.

“Billy, this is so… incredible. It’s beautiful…” 

“Yeah…?” He feels a sense of pride, hearing her genuine gratitude and seeing her joy. 

“Yeah.” She finally looks up at him and he felt his stomach flip. “Billy, it’s perfect. I love it. I love it so much…” She reaches out to take his hand and wraps her fingers around his. Her touch is soft and warm against the calloused pads of his fingers and palm. Bloody hell, how many times can he nearly faint in front of her in one evening?

For a fleeting moment, there’s a force that draws them closer to one another. His senses are overwhelmed by the smell of her perfume, the warmth of her hand in his, the sight of her face so close to his. But he’s a bloody idiot as always and stands completely frozen in place. He wants to lean down and press his lips to hers, but his muscles won’t move.

He clears his throat. “Can I… put it on for you?” 

He sees disappointment flash across her face before she pulls away. She’s quick to replace it with a sweet grin, but he knows he’s missed his chance. He’ll be kicking himself for weeks for this. Stupid, stupid coward. 

“Please.” 

His hands are shaking as he takes the brooch from her and fumbles to clasp it to the front of her dress, just below her left shoulder. 

“How does it look?” she asks.

Billy can think of a million ways to describe her beauty in this moment. Not just the way the brooch looks on her, but everything about her. In the end, he smiles crookedly and settles on the one he thinks encapsulates her best.

“Exquisite.” 

Their time together is short as always. Her party can’t go on without the guest of honor and he can finally allow Feldman to send him home now that he’s given her her gift. His mum’s probably waiting up to make sure he gets home safe and it’s nearing midnight, now.

“Billy, we’re leaving for home in the morning,” she tells him as if he doesn’t already know that. “I guess… you’re off tomorrow.”

In any other situation, he’d be glad that Feldman wasn’t making him come in first thing after working such a late shift. But now it means that he won’t be there to see her off like he did the last time. 

“Can I write to you again, Billy? After I get home?” 

“Of course.” His earlier embarrassment at having denied her a kiss is somewhat dulled by the assurance that she wants to keep in touch. “But my handwriting’s a bit rubbish…”

She laughs. “I’m sure it’s fine. I’d… like to see it. Be sure to write back. Promise?”

“Promise.”

Satisfied, she pulls open the door but stops in the doorway. “Thank you again, Billy. For my present. It’s the best one I’ve gotten tonight.” She chews on her bottom lip, lingering on the boundary between the restaurant and the lobby for just a moment longer. She presses her cheek to the edge of the mahogany door, staring at him as though she doesn’t want to go. But eventually she relents as calls of her name echo through the lobby and she is beckoned back to the party.

And Billy watches dreamily until long after the bar door shuts behind her. 

Tag list:

@sepherinaspoppies

(Let me know if you'd like to be added!)

[heretherebedork]

I already love Mum. He's a fighter, a musician, a tough guy, a womanizer and the kind of person who declares he would never date a guy but gets kissed once by a cute boy in an alternate timeline, fucks him, watches him dies and finds himself discovering what love is because his heart is already pounding.

[respectthepetty]

We did not get an episode of 609 Bedtime Story but a special clip with the crew that solidified the reason I'm showing up next week to tune in.

Dew is a perfectionist who runs his family business seen with black, blue, and cool tones for a dystopian world.

Mum is a playboy who owns a bar displayed with colors - red, green, and yellow and warm tones for a happy world.

When they meet in 609, their worlds and their worlds' colors merge

They are still wearing their colors, but as it progresses, not only do their worlds merge, but they themselves

And that world will start to creep into their real lives.

CONS:

"The audience decides the ending they want" - Golf

"You can choose the ending" - Fluke

Oh, no. No, no, no, no.

[tm-trx]

currents.05

weekly round-up in media [29 jan-4 feb 2023]

~ sp*ilers for 609 Bedtime Story, A League of Nobleman, The New Employee, and Never Let Me Go ~

[listening]

Monsta X’s “The Dreaming” album - new discovery and I’ve had it on repeat

[reading]

Imago series by NR Walker - short and sweet adult contemporary mlm romance set in Australia; come for the romance, stay for the butterfly conservation and near-death experiences - reread

Pocketful of Soul by @jenroses - Mo Xuanyu-centric MDZS time travel fix-it and one of my 2022 favorites - reread

Dawn Will Break by ca_pierson and darkmoore - Stargate Atlantis AU - Written for the 2010 Big Bang, this is one of my favorites. A bare bones summary: After dying, John Sheppard dimension hops into multiple versions of himself to fix whatever is wrong there, at the behest of the Ancients. - reread

[watching]

609 Bedtime Story - Well that was a way to end it I guess. I did like how they resolved things with Mint, but I was hoping she’d figured out the connection between Mum and Dew. But that would mean talking about the parallel world again and they apparently decided that the entire conceit of the show didn’t matter anymore after ep 9. I’m so annoyed. (Edit: I just found out there is an alternate ending airing next week; most likely an ‘unhappy’ ending. What are you doing, show? I’m not even mad about it, just more confused.)

A League of Nobleman - The show I’m enjoying the most this week. I didn’t expect such gorgeous visuals in a historical mystery that isn’t a fantasy. There’ve been two mysteries so far and the second one involved a serial killer. I enjoyed the heck out of that arc. I have affectionately nicknamed Zhang Ping ‘Eyebrows’ in my head because those are some fantastic ones he’s sporting. Kudos to the makeup team.

The Lost Tomb (2015) - Binged most of season one last night and I’m hooked. This is amazing. Also, surprise Yang Yang! (I’d forgotten why it was on my watchlist, so he must be why.) The quality level is about late 90s/early 2000s but that was early fandom in my life, so nostalgia is hitting me hard. I’m having a great time with this one.

The New Employee - Seven episodes feels like a weird episode count for a series, but okay - I watched the last two episodes back to back and loved how they ended it. I do find it interesting however, that we never saw the ex/crush again after he was the trigger for the main relationship blip. It felt like they were going to take that further. I probably should have waited to binge this in one go, because I had completely forgotten that there was a manager who could cause trouble until he caused trouble. These short form dramas are generally pretty frustrating to watch because I can clearly see a longer (usually better) show around them. This one did feel complete, but I’m hoping they release a movie version.

[anticipating]

SHINee - Key’s album repackage is this month! Onew finished recording something! Minho is too tall! Taemin D-57!

[random notes from my tv journal]

609 Bedtime Story, ep 11 - “The kissing sounds don’t match the video?!” (This show botched the ending so bad, in multiple ways. This particular way made me laugh though.)

A League of Nobleman, ep 6 - “Surprise serial killer! Neat!”

My School President, ep 9 - “Gun and Tinn’s little scene on the beach while spying on Sound gave me major ‘future old married couple’ feelings.” (And now I want to read that future fic where Gun is home on break from touring and teasing his doctor husband into relaxing after a stressful shift.)

Never Let Me Go, ep 8 - “That was an extremely ominous music cue to tag the bathroom confrontation scene with.” (Up until that last moment it felt like any other scene in this show, but the music change elevated it and made it seem like Ben was going to come back and murder the kid. It threw me out of the scene it was such a jarring escalation. I may go back and watch it again, to see how it feels on rewatch.)

previous Currents posts

[letstevengrantsleep]

Part Four

Previous part / Next part

Eddie Munson x reader slow burn

part summary: you seek the comfort of a friend after your breakup with Jake

word count: 1,212

warnings: ?? angst

a/n: I don't think this chapter really needs any warnings but let me know if you think I missed something. Sorry it's been a couple of days since the last part, I'm going to try and come up with a more regular posting schedule

main masterlist series masterlist

"Hiya, it's me." Your voice is barely a whisper, "yeah, something's happened. Can I come over?"

Steve's concern can be felt through the line, "yeah, yeah of course you can. Do you need me to come and pick you up?"

Your heart contracts, squeezing tight as you close your eyes and try not to cry. "No. No, thank you. I could do with the walk."

"Yeah, okay." There's a beat of silence, "I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

As soon as the phone is back on the hook, the tears begin to fall. It's inevitable, you tell yourself. You felt numb, towards the end with Jake. You'd convinced yourself that it was over before it was, and it helped for a while. But the truth was that you'd spent four years with him, and you had loved him. You still did, a little part of you did anyway. He used to be kind, helpful. He helped your little cousin find her first car, painted your mum's kitchen when she was ill. It was starting to make you feel ill, the realization with how much you put up with just because you liked the person he used to be.

-

As you walk the familiar path to Steve’s house, the weight of the breakup presses heavily on your heart. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows, mirroring the somber thoughts swirling in your mind. Each step feels like a quiet echo of the past, memories of happier times with Jake mingling with the bittersweet realization that those moments are now just fragments of a story that had reached it's final chapter. The world around you seems to move in slow motion, the rustling leaves whispering secrets of change and loss.

The feeling of having such powerful love crumble and slip through your fingers is making it hard to breathe. What went wrong? Melancholy wraps around you in a sorrowful embrace as you shuffle along the street, going to seek the company of a friend who understands, more than most, the unspoken pain of a heart in transition.

Your mind has gone numb with the weight of it all, so much so that when you arrive at Steve's you barely even greet him.

He says your name softly, pulling you into a hug, "what happened?"

As you pull back you begin to shake your head, "I can't... not yet. Can I just stay here for a bit?"

"Of course, you stay as long as you need to."

-

It takes a while for you to settle down, and Steve's good, so good. He gives you the space you need for the time that you need it. So as you walk into his front room, taking a seat next to him on the sofa, he looks at you and smiles softly, ready to listen.

"Ready to talk about it?" His eyes are so full of understanding it hurts.

You take a deep breath, then words begin tumbling out in a whirlpool of sadness and relief. You recount the breakup, the confusion, the hurt, and the heartache. Steve listens patiently, offering nods and hums of support. As you speak, weight begins to lift off your chest, being replaced by the comforting presence of a friend who truly cares.

-

Later that night, after Steve has gone to bed, you find yourself sitting on the porch, staring up at the stars. You're acutely aware of the throb in your cheek, the cool night air is a welcome relief against it as you sit there, alone in the cold. You can hear the gentle rustling of the leaves in the breeze, the distant hum of crickets, the smell of dew on the grass mingling with the faint aroma of Steve's cologne lingering on your clothes.

As you breathe in the cool night air there's a smell of rain that catches in your nose, though the sky is clear. It's as if the world is holding it's breath, waiting for the penny to drop. For change to happen. The stars above twinkle with a distant, indifferent beauty, making you feel both insignificant and strangely connected to the vast universe.

The soft creak of the porch steps catches you off guard, and as you turn around you see Eddie standing there, his eyes filled with concern.

"Thought that was you," her starts, a soft smile on his face as he takes a seat next to you. "I heard what happened. Are you okay?"

You shrug, eyes back to being fixed on the sky. You can feel his eyes on your cheek, but you try not to think about it. "I don't know. I just feel... lost."

You don't expect him to know how to respond to that, and for a while he doesn't. The night gets deeper, the air grown colder, and neither of you move.

He's the first to break the silence.

"You know, when I was younger I used to wait 'til my Uncle Wayne was asleep and then climb onto the roof of the trailer. I'm pretty sure he knew I was up there but I thought I was being so sneaky." He laughs to himself, shaking his head. "I used to sit there and just... stare at the stars. It made me feel so small, but in a good way, you know? Like no matter how big my problems seemed, they were just a tiny speck in the grand scheme of things."

You turn to him, "did it help?"

Eddie turns to you, smiling a little, "yeah, yeah it did."

As you sit in the quiet night, your curiosity gets the better of you. "How come you're here, Eddie?" Your voice is soft, but insistent.

"Oh," he sits up straight, adjusting his posture, "well I was at The Hideout." He clears his throat, "was having a few drinks after our gig and I overheard some guys talking about you and Jake, talking about what went down between the two of you."

Your breath hitches in your throat, the memory of the fight still pretty raw, "so you came here?" Your eyes search his face for answers.

"I didn't know you'd be here. I just needed to get out of there, and Steve lets me crash at his place if I ever end up having a drink after gig nights, so..." he trails off, brows furrowing as if he knows it sounds like he's making excuses.

That makes you huff out a laugh, feeling stupid for even thinking he came specifically to find you, "right", you nod, "well that makes sense."

Eddie senses the undertone of hostility in your voice and decides he's best leaving you alone now. He glances at the door, then back at you. "I should probably head inside," he says softly. "Steve's couch has my name on it."

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. "Goodnight, Eddie."

"Goodnight," the way he says your name makes your heart feel weak as he pairs it with a slight squeeze to your shoulder. "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

With that, he slips inside, leaving you alone on the porch once more. You watch the door close behind him, feeling a weird cocktail of sadness and comfort.

Well, shit.

Taglist

@sapphire4082 @twirls827 @bewr0210 @maskofmirrors @saramelaniemoon @halialex1119

[fair-sir-goeberth]

Atlanta - Alembic - Chilla -Graves - WeP8nt - (kebojim) - Bow-hnt - Moz cadi - Sea&son - Gamsguy - Momoz - Grateful d - Land art -Diver - Darlyn - Cozy cat - K s3ra - Fght nce - Ka1dbe - Pemetic - Texan 9 - Jmg art - Duntov - WowVT - Luxray - Seaglow - Boomer - Dsney - Cherubs - Dirty Z - Feliz - Ldy Loki - Catwmn - C • Shell - hill - oh Lrd - trlkrew - belt - wood - mt dew - d caf - doula 3 - sign pst - omg fire - s and m - run fast - player 2 - m-m-bbq - I'm crazy - ironman - tinman - pima - ntv prd - golfher - bskt cs - freak - chess - dmp em - psiden - happy be - mine - dytrippn - tink-rn - hrt 2 hrt - my truck - suby do - dct tpe - deezz - luv kidz - pegosus - hav2run - iluv80s - jazzguy - nowpray - 2 Kellys - Wuf wuf - rozebud - dsney - pupe lv - dank art - lov2hnt - livufvr - fmrdtr - hi-ya - l8r dude - nva qit - nmbr 10 - go Bleu - Kiki cub - grumpa - p cock - n2frogs - uniball - lpstk gi - angel cyr - mtlfrgs - 2banana - nscar88 - G monstr - blk dog - osprey - player 2 - ass hat - mermade - sqezem - sketah - 2222 up - Hunter - whl pwr - Tulane - hs farm - growth - he paid - orloff - prl mp - rlstage - crzy frg - hmmm - fsob - my broom - the mop - fox4ce5 - solv 4 x - perrys - chbacca - the mop - bon2run - dtooth - sativa - mmmmmmk - queenvg - xamdam - snowwht - debit - fokker - McLeod - lucidbr - Hobbs - go raw - yeah man - grmlin - dat boi - brazen - Ilv2sk8 - blub3ry - df lprd - Chantal - pumkins - F I T T - beancan - a riot - bigben - Moms no1 - H8U - anchr dn - recuvry - aka dad - - sgr ddy - mxtec - skates - trl2sea - run ran - shotz - k stew - f0st3r - gta clu - bakrboy - buz buz - myrddin - Dr t - diamdog - altlyf - op2mus - herhemi - tea&qi - Z's of me - mmmm4 - drottar - celtz - huntgeo - loafr99 - demon 1 - owl good - lucidbr - my jewl - t taxie - big yeti - scubaru - excl - t taxie - gypzy - mcfalls - koexist - saintz - glayze - hrd2luv - refine - ovr sze - mothy - d baby - triclps - Batman - urwhtu8 - irishc - respek - mamsy - jazzguy - irons - Im Yoda - skiddah - OMG fire - gomogo - nanbump - gburg pa - qwi gon - rip bro - then&nw - be chill - ass hat - chm bckt - Blondie - mprezed - ilv2qlt - oiiiiio - tias-kia - ewe-bet - bam - hwyman - zornhau - wazup - wine dog - budvan - Omar - ayonola - naenae1 - no bugs - tizz - aenergy - dlght - bonney - thecrzy - glacier - hrcne - it's mne - fun 4x4 - act now6 - thnkhvn - Mr Krabs - igloo - rltide - pointe - eye - alembic - 4whldrv - mar316 - gideyup - chkfla - sorry eh - Leia - pony keg - ski east - srsly - bluedha - bootz - go Jo - mrsyork - run - c-shell - kelp - sea haze - hopekh - catpaw - smitten - greatfl - my pod - luv kidz - be chill - prnts4u - t Brady - pet mum - sweet b - coyotee - momof3 - shortbs - sprmom - bg Ed - bat mble - Qatar - tads toy - red Hill - Helio - n8ure - c-kayakn - meme joy - artdash - lv2fsh - XIX - l8r dude - zrgrush - falcor - Saturn v - chicky - pudgey - heimdal - bb-8 - plebboi - fckn ay - skycake - Tin Grin - Les paul - menchie - mombie - Bon Vin - lyd14 - ac8ia - no dea - dct tape - heebgb - agooday - hi lo - lv2bwl - Chk Em - w8n4sno -

A collection of vanity plates

[frostironfudge]

I Think I Met You In My Dreams Once - Bucky Barnes - Seven

Summary: After receiving an honourable discharge from his military service that was caused by the loss of his arm, James Barnes begins to come to terms with several things. He also finds solace in youtube videos, memes and on social media, where he happens to find you.

Pairing: Ex-Military!Bucky Barnes x Fem! Plus Size!Reader (Modern AU)

Chapter Warnings: angst, swear words, smut, fluff, discussion of bucky's arm, family dinner drama, protective!bucky, dom!bucky (i gave over control to bucky basically during the smut soooooo)

Word Count: 6234 Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Fic Masterlist || Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Playlist

Chapter Six || Chapter Eight

Bucky sighs at the lingering exhaustion as he sits on the soft worn couch. Winnie Barnes sets down a small tray of her trademark brownies and the scent reminds Bucky of a childhood untainted. Full of warmth like the soft steam from the tray that is cooling in the kitchen.

He loved how scents were a powerful tool for memory. How they would bring forth nostalgia from the depths of his mind. 

Then his mother walks in, a soft scent of freesias from her perfume further takes him down memory lane. Swing sets, sandcastles, the soft dew drops from the grass he ran on pretending to be an airplane, hands abducted out wide. Rebecca laughing at his funny faces. His father nursing a drink, the scent of the harsher alcohol has him scrunch his face. 

He inhales deeply allowing the gooey chocolate scent to overtake his mind again.

“Been a while since you came down to meet your old mum. You should stay the entire weekend more often.” Her voice is light but he knows she misses him dearly. He did too. 

“Sorry Ma, work has been… hectic.” He says for lack of a better word than chaotic. 

“And how is Y/N doing?” Winnie pulls his cheeks when he blushes. 

“She’s great, we had our first argument/fight thing but we sorted it out three weeks ago. Been good since the past week.” He says with a smile. 

“I’m glad you both worked it out. Becca was supposed to join in, too. You know how her thesis things go.” Winnie shakes her head, then shrugs.

He grabs a brownie from the plate and relishes the taste. Winnie just smiles at her son. Happiness finding her heart at his happiness. 

“You’re happy with this long distance thing Bucky?” She asks after a moment of silence, “I know you’ve had experience with being away from family, this is different.” She glances at him with worry lacing her voice and eyes. 

Bucky’s blue eyes soften, taking in his mother’s demeanour. 

“I, it is hard. Somedays it is as if she stays the strong one for us and other days it is as if I stay strong for us, but most days? We’re equally strong.” He admits, placing the half eaten brownie on a tissue. 

Winnie nods, “How is the trial going?” She gives a small smile, Bucky winces, forgetting he never told her to avoid her worrisome questions and having her stressed over him. 

“Bucky.” She says using her mom voice, the very tone that had him admit he was the one who ate all the ten cookies left in the cookie jar when he was seven. 

“Well, um, about that…” He scratches the back of his neck and then his fingertips graze over where the mounting plate was on his left axilla. All he feels is the material of his t shirt the one you bought him from the merchandise of Buzzfeed Unsolved.  

“What is it?” Her brows furrow and he wants to kick himself, he takes a deep breath beginning to explain what occurred. When he is done Winnie is wiping stray tears from her eyes and his thumb wipes away the few that she can’t get too within time. 

“So that’s it?” She asks, a hope within her crumbling. 

“Ma, I’m still me, I don’t need the arm.” Bucky assures. 

“I know, I just, it would be helpful to you, you participated for a reason.” She straightens the crumpled tissue in her hand, tracing over the damp splotches of her tears with her finger. 

“I know, but I am leading my life without any issues.” He reminds her, she nods. 

“You know I worry.” She explains, a watery laugh has her son engulf her in a hug. 

“I hope you know I’m proud of you.”

“I’ll always try and make you proud. I love you.” He kisses her cheek as they pull away. 

“Are you planning to visit her?” She questions as the doorbell rings. 

Bucky rises from his place, smiling at the prospect, “I might have thought about it.” 

“James Barnes.” Winnie grins, “What are you planning?” 

“Well first off, Doll has sent you a bouquet ahead of our lunch/late dinner date with her.” He holds the beautiful vase of  roses in his hand and Winnie raises a brow.

“Check the note.” He urges with a smile, this was all your doing. 

Winnie touches the flowers and finds the note nestled into them, its typed out, she can’t stop smiling as she reads it. 

Dear Mrs. Barnes,

First of all I would like to say thank you for agreeing to meet me and i’m so excited to finally meet you, Bucky speaks so highly of you and it as honour to meet the woman who raised the man i love.

I know this isn’t the most ideal way to meet you and get to know you but i want to look at it in the positive that there are more events of us meeting in the future which is why today we’ll speak only through computer screens. 

i hope you like the flowers Bucky said you adore red and pink roses so i picked those, i hope i was able to make you smile, he says he loves seeing you smile it brightens his day and based on the pictures he showed me i can see why 

Thank you once again, i look forward to our lunch-dinner also please remind Bucky to vacuum pack and send me some of your brownies he keeps teasing me about not being able to taste them. 

Love, 

Y/N 

Winnie turned to look at her son, a beaming smile on her face. 

“I think I already adore her.” She admits and Bucky’s smile widens. 

“Told you, she’s just so purely loveable.”

“I can’t wait to meet her also, no more brownies and find out how can we send her som.”

His eyes widen, “Ma!” He says complaining. 

“You’re the one making her feel bad again and again, no more brownies.” She says sternly raising her index finger. 

Bucky🌻:

You cost me my brownie dosage. Mum revoked my access because of your note she loved the flowers by the way. 

Doll🌸:

Serves you right. Tease. Now i get to have them and you get to feel left out. I’m glad she did, I hope they brightened up her smile like you adore. 

Bucky smiles warmth encasing his heart. You were always so thoughtful. God he couldn’t wait to just pull you against his chest and keep you there forever. 

Bucky gazes at your picture lovingly, then his brows furrow when he reads your text. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement. Nat had been on texting standby and you had probably been the reason for her screen time to increase by tenfold. 

Your latest message to her way full of worry. 

You:

What if I say the wrong thing? What if Mrs. Barnes hates me? Oh god what if she thinks I’m not worthy of Bucky? 

I’m going to have a meltdown, Bucky says she liked the flowers, but i just oh god what if the note was a stupid idea. It was wasn’t it? Why the hell did you not stop me?????

Nat, fuck, i think i’m going to throw up. 

When your phone chimes you open Bucky’s text then freeze, you had texted him instead of Natasha. Fuck this device, fuck the fact that un-send does not exist on iMessage. Fuck. 

Bucky🌻: 

Doll, she already adores you so much, honestly i think after today she’s going to think i’m not worthy of you. 

And she loved the note, adored it, she’s googling food courier services as we speak for your brownies. 

I know you’re nervous, I was too, remember when your dad just stared me down for five minutes, I went into cardiac arrest. 

And you remember what you told me?

You smile recalling what you had texted him from under the table. You even screen-shotted the conversation. 

Doll🌸:

I texted you from under the table that imagine i’m holding your hand and rubbing soothing circles, that even if it’s intimidating its just two people who will come to love and adore you as I have. 

Bucky🌻: 

exactly so, i’m holding your hand Doll, and not letting go one bit during lunch/dinner, even if that means I can’t eat, lol, one arm problems.

Doll🌸:

James…

Bucky🌻: 

Oh so you can make jokes about your trauma but I can’t? Unfair, unfair i tell you. This will be sorted in the court of Her Honourable Judge Alpine. 

Doll🌸:

Bold of you to assume she won’t side with me, she loves me more.

Bucky🌻:

I’m her dad and she loves me most. 

Doll🌸: 

Right, right well, we’ll see about that Mr. Barnes. 

Bucky🌻: 

Getting formal are we?

Doll🌸: 

Maybe or I just like to see you riled up, Mr. Barnes. 

You giggle when the typing dots appear and the disappear, he’s trying to come up with a biting reply. 

You kick it up a notch sending a voice note that has Bucky feeling his pants are very constricting. 

“Mr. Barnes,” You’d dipped your voice by an octave, trying to sound sultry, “Have I caught your tongue? Or is it simply begging to taste something sweet?” 

Bucky🌻:

Doll, you will be the death of me.

Bucky had to eat his words because just as he set up the laptop on the dining table doing a test call, Alpine jumped on the table and booped the screen and meowed at your smug face. 

“I believe the Judge is in my favour.” You chuckle, cooing at Alpine. 

“You’ve just bribed her with toys.” He huffs while partially true, only three of her toys are from you but she loves them dearly. Bucky directs Alpine off of the table and she gives his hand a playful bite and you giggle.

“Good girl, Alpine, my best girl.” You praise her much to your boyfriend’s dismay at the two of you seemingly pairing up.

“You’re just a sore loser.” You roll your eyes at him then straighten up when Winnie appears in the frame, nerves shoot through your spine and you stand up. 

“H-hello Mrs. Barnes.” You give her a smile, laden with nerves. 

“Darling, you have to call me, Winnie. Hello to you too, I’m so glad we could do this also I apologise we couldn’t do this at a timing more suitable for you.” Winnie sits on the chair giving you the softest, kindest gaze you’d ever received. 

“Oh no, not at all, Bucky and I tend to switch around with our meals so it's not too bad, also it is just ten thirty. Not too late.” You reassure her and she seems to relax. 

“Now is my son treating you right? Or do I have to ban brownies permanently?” She gives him a curt glare and you laugh at Bucky’s look of utter panic. 

“Ma, why—,”

“Oh hush, Y/N continue.” She urges with a gesture of her palm. 

“He’s treating me in the best way, Mrs. Bar—Winnie, sorry, um, I, he’s so respectful and kind, understanding as well so loving. Honestly I can’t believe my stars I found my way to him. It is just surreal.” You admire Bucky and Winnie smiles. 

“No brownie ban then.” She pats his left shoulder. 

Your eyes nor demeanour change in the slightest and Winnie finds a weight on her heart lift, you saw her son as whole. Not incomplete. 

“Thank god for my manners.” Bucky says with a shake of his head, relieved. Then he laughs. You laugh as well.  

“Well Bucky here sings praises of you and I can see why, tell me then about you and your family?” Winnie smoothes her hands over her jeans. Bucky never spoke about what happened in detail over the dinner that took place with your family but she could see he was slightly worried about your father’s opinion. 

“What would you like to know?” You didn’t let your smile wavier, you knew the parent meeting at your house was less than ideal and given your dad caught Bucky watching you sleep. 

Technically he was working while you dozed off but your father seems to have not taken a liking to the man who held your heart better than what your dad had over the years of his parenting. 

Bucky sees the slight shift in your eyes, the rolling on your shoulders to not allow what haunted you to clamp down into your flesh and drag you into painful memories. 

You flicker your gaze to Bucky and his own blue eyes that harbour your world harbour the knowledge about your mind’s current thoughts. 

“How about where you grew up? Did you move around? We had too for quite some time till Bucky’s father passed away.” She says, giving you a second to refocus on the conversation. Bucky and you both notice the small twinge of nostalgia that grips her for a moment. 

“Oh um, no we never had to move, we’ve always been here at home though my great-great grandparents hailed from another state but since my grandfather the family has called this place nine hours and thirty minutes away from Bucky, home.” 

He takes his phone out to message you, Winnie gets distracted by the timer she had set for the dish she made for dinner. 

You smile at him as she excuses herself. Your eyes glazing over at his message. 

Bucky🌻:

i’m holding your hand under the table, giving it squeezes

Doll🌸: 

i’m squeezing your hand right back. 

You look up at him, he gives you one of his Doll smiles, named by Morgan. The ones only given for you, where his eyes crinkle at the sides and you feel it in your heart to erase everything that would ever cause that grin to fade. 

“I love you.” He mouths.

“I love you.” You mouth back. 

Bucky observes as the earlier tensions had left your body and now they had shifted into the drawing room while you chose to sit on the floor at the foot of your bed.

All three of your nursed desserts, tiramisu. Winnie had given Bucky the recipe so you could make it at home, your practice batch had turned out successful so this was your fifth attempt and it was really good.

Bucky was covering his face, cheeks tinged red. As Winnie told you the story of how he insisted on dressing up as a tellytubby for halloween when he was younger. She had to give him whipped cream mixed with food colouring to make the tubby custard because he hated actual custard.

What made things worse for Bucky was when she put on her reading glasses and managed to screen share a whole album of his images from childhood.

“How—you call me when the wifi router needs rebooting.” He seems taken aback but also proud.

“I asked Sam and Steve to teach me.” She grins smugly. 

“I’m going to kill them.” He mutters and you laugh.

“Honestly you make a cute tellytubby, the blue brought out your eyes.” You give him some praise but the next picture has you doubling over and Winnie joins in and Bucky just groans.

Greeting your screen is Bucky Barnes, aged ten, halfway out of the costume, just the blue pants on, his face, torso and arms all covered in the aforementioned tubby custard.

“The pink just wouldn’t fade.” Winnie says between laughs, you wipe a tear, baby Bucky looks absolutely taken by the sugar rush, a dazed but focused look on his features. You raise your phone to snap a picture but they all grow blur because you can’t stop laughing.

“Alright that is enough.” Bucky warns reaching over and stopping the screen share.

“Hey! I want to see my boyfriend as a baby.” You protest as the picture disappears and then pout at Bucky, who only rolls his eyes at your dramatic tendencies.

“I’ll email the folder to you.” Winnie assures with a wink then as she glances at the watch she straightens up, “Oh dear, I’m so sorry, darlings, I did say I would meet my friends from the book club at three. I’m so sorry I kept you up this long dear.” She looks apologetic and Bucky watches as you shake your head.

“Not at all, I had a lot of fun, it is an honour to get to know you.” You smile, she returns the smile.

“Bucky go fetch my purse and keys would you in my room, check the drawers and cupboard if things aren’t there.” Winnie urges him on and once he is out of ear shot, you gulp, this is it, this is the moment she tells you to leave her son alone.

“Y/N, I, you know, when Bucky told me about you, I was elated that finally he found someone. When he told me how many miles and oceans separated the two of you I had my concerns. I still do, over what has happened over dinner with your parents.” She gives you a knowing look.

“I wouldn’t ever hurt him. I love him.” You say, voice cracking slightly, you’re still sure her next words will be of disapproval.

“I know, I could see it in your eyes the minute I walked into the room.” She gives you a warm smile, “He’s never had anyone look at him like he handpicked the moon from the sky and gave it to them. Only we see him as a complete man. Today when I kept my hand on his shoulder, you didn’t flinch, make a face or have any negative emotion. You see him as whole don’t you?” She looks hopeful.

“Bucky, he, he completes me in a way that I don’t feel a hollowness in my being. I don’t know how anyone can think he is anything but more than complete, so full of love and live. Honestly? He did handpick the moon and give it to me. Everyday with him feels that way. Even on days that might be hard for either of us, he still handpicked the moon for me. He’s I believe he’s the love of my life. No one ” You confess wiping your face with the back of your hand.

“Oh, Y/N, if you were here I would give you a hug. I absolutely adore you, ever since you cause the light to return to his eyes.” Winnie wipes a tear herself.

“I could honestly use it. Mum and I are trying to make dad realise his opinion is wrong. I’m, I’m glad I can make him happy and feel loved.” You say, blinking at the tears. 

The whole ordeal had left a bitter taste in your mouth. You could only imagine how much more it affected Bucky. You had apologised profusely, he assured you each time that it was not job to apologise for the words of your father.

“Dear, convincing a parent is difficult, we had the same issue, it took my father a while but when the time came and George wanted to propose, my dad accepted him.” Winnie laughs at the memory then a dark look graces her features, it passes as quickly as it had arrived.

“I, I just want him to respect Bucky. He doesn’t deserve that, I told my dad off. I just wish I could undo that part of the night.” You admit and Winnie’s head turns to the staircase and Bucky sighs loudly, exasperated.

“How does your purse get lost in your own room, Ma?” He then chuckles and she shakes her head. You straighten up as well.

“Were you crying?” He asks her, you squeeze your eyes shut, his observation skills never failed him.

“No, just something went in my eye.” Winnie lies and you open your eyes just as Bucky graces the screen.

“Oh.” He looks at you and you shrug. He narrows his eyes. Deciding to table the discussion for later, he places you on the small cabinet in the doorway, as you both bid goodbye to his mom as she leaves for her plans.

You hold your breath, knowing he would ask or it would be something else. He walks upto his old room, placing you on the bed, next to his right side.

“Did Ma, say anything?” He looks at you sternly, you know he is watching every move, no longer Bucky but in his Sergeant roots. 

You let out the breath through your mouth slowly, contemplating.

“If you’re thinking of a lie, don’t.” He warns.

“I’m not, she’s worried about you.” You confess, you could give him bits and pieces.

“She didn’t say anything to you right?” His hard gaze waivers for a moment.

“No, she, she said she was happy when you told her about me, she said she adores me. She’s worried over what my father said… over dinner…” You let that statement hang in the air, a week after the Sharon fiasco was the dinner with your parents.

You mother had been nothing short of lovely, asking questions making sure he was comfortable. Shutting down her husband with a small tap on his arm in warning if he became insensitive. He could only be tapped so much. Your mom couldn’t face Bucky for days.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. You gnaw at your bottom lip.

“I told you and her, I don’t care about what he said. The only opinion that matters is yours, Doll. he can hate me, call me bullshit things. He should not have insulted you. It would not have prompted my response.” Bucky’s voice beings to go towards anger, his blue eyes flash with suppressed range.

You stand, no longer wanting to sit on the floor, and sit back at your desk.

“Bucky—,”

“Y/N, no. I’ve been over this before. I told him he can fucking say all that he wants to me. When it comes to you I tolerate no fucking crap. He may have liberties as an emotionally abusive fuck but that ends. It is high time.” He glowers.

You bite your lip, this had been a back and forth point, ultimately a stalemate.

You were used to the shit your father said to you but you tolerated nothing against Bucky not even a whisper on an insult.

Bucky responded exactly the same, he could take all that your dad dumped on him and more, but he would be damned before he allowed anyone to insult you even if it was your dad.

You both needed each other. Anchors, saviour angels, lifelines whatever title was given isn’t enough to eloquently cover what the other meant. You needed to feel him, more than his words, more than his heated gaze. 

“Bucky,” You say again and he meets your eyes, his heart warming at the way the light reflects upon your irises. His anger slowly moves away. You move to your door, locking it then returning sauntering slowly towards him. 

His blue eyes, darken, breathing deeper he watches as your top comes off, followed by your jeans. You keep your eyes locked in on him as the straps of your bra slip down your shoulders and he stops you by raising his index finger.

“Show me.” He breathes, cock hardening as you turn and the now dimmed lights of your room illuminate your skin. Soft curves needing his touch, his lips, him. 

“Fucking gorgeous.” He praises and then you preen at the deep gravel, wanton timber of his voice.  

“Every curve, dip, line and mole. Fuck, Doll—,” He groans as you move your hands over your body, tracing over your bra, pinching at your hardened nipples, a whimper from your mouth goes straight to Bucky’s dick and he might just come untouched the way you gaze at him.

Your eyes darkened with lust, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, he wants to lap at the bead of sweat that makes its way over your sternum. Bucky gulps when you take off your panties. The colour difference makes him groan, his own darkening as his precum stains his clothing.

“Need to see you.” You look at him settling onto your bed, legs spread. Bucky stands, ridding himself of all the confines that keep you from admiring him.

“Fucking gorgeous.” You praise and he smirks.

“Oh little one,” His voice sinfully deep, and these new headphones made him sound as if he was right next to you, whispering in your ear, “What am I going to do with you?” He questions, eyes raking over you.

“Anything you want.” You whisper and He needs to close his eyes to get a grip on himself. He traces your features again with his heated gaze, admiring how you become needier with just the way he gazes at you. 

Bucky wants to get on his knees and worship you, because that is the only way he can thank his luck for allowing you into his life.

“Touch your nipples, through your bra, did you wear the pretty lace all for me?” He raises an eyebrow. You mewl as the touch sends shivers to your clit, arousal dripping over your folds and Bucky licks his lips, humming as if he can taste you.

“I asked you something, little one.” He reminds, you nod.

“Words.” he commands, 

“Yes,” you hiss, twisting your nipple harder, “James.” You plead for more.

You hear his low growl, primal, watching you get wetter for him.

“Show me how wet I’ve made you.” He gestures with a nod of his head, your hand moves over your abdomen, touching the curves and dips, Bucky drinks the sight of you in, he held pride as you touched yourself, not your clit or your cunt, but when you touched your body, squeezing the flesh. It drove him wild, needy, helpless and he starved to do the same with his hand. Fell you, love you, touch you, fall apart inside you as you held him in.

“So fucking beautiful.” He praises as you gather your arousal and show him your glistening fingers.

“Want to fuck you with my tongue. Will you let me taste my pussy? You are so fucking sweet aren’t you? I wouldn’t leave from between your thighs for days. Have them tremble, shake, beg to close. But I would just keep devouring my pretty pussy.” 

You throw your head back nodding, Bucky only smirks, “Go on, touch yourself the way you like little one, but I want to watch each stroke, each circle, and when you begin to fuck yourself onto your fingers.” He begins to circle his thumb on his cock, hissing at the contact he finally allowed himself. Your hips begin to rut against your fingers at his words. 

“Yes, little one, just like that, imagine it is my cock, buried deep you can feel me everywhere, claiming you, marking you as mine.” Bucky pants, his hand moving over himself.

“Want to feel your cock, Bucky, want you to feel your pussy clench around your cock.” You mewl out, your hips grounding against your fingers you needed more.

“Fuck, little one, grab that firmer pillow, fold it.” He instructs, your walls clench at the loss. Bucky wants to swallow all those pretty little sounds against his lips. He watches you straddle the folded pillow, the fabric rubbing your clit so deliciously. 

Bucky moves the laptop onto the desk, you can see him sitting on the chair, cock being fisted by his hand, his vein prominent and you grow wetter at the thought of how it would feel in your mouth.

“See this little one?” He gestures to his cock, your clit twitches, “All because of you. Know why I made you switch?” He rakes his eyes over you and you want to just combust. 

“You want me to ride you.” You realise, slowly moving your hips in sync with his slow strokes to his cock.

“My little one, you think correctly, go on grind on that pillow, take off that bra, fingers on your nipples. While you ride me, I’d play with those gorgeous tits.”

Your stomach tugs at the combined sensations with his words, picturing it, his hand on your hip, setting the pace, his mouth on your chest. Biting, sucking, marking you as his, you moan as your orgasm builds,

Bucky’s hand moves in pace with your hips grinding down, your lips part, he knows your close.

“Will you cum with me little one?” Bucky requests, a groan of your name falls from his lips,

“Bucky, please—, need—, I” You beg, beg for something needing him to coax you to your orgasm, needing him to be the one that shatters you.

“Need you,” you choke out as the orgasm starts to build and his words get filthier. 

“Fuck, Y/N, just a little more, need my cock in you? I’d fill you up, till you cum around me, dripping all over my cock and your thighs, you want that don’t you?” 

Bucky and you moan in sync as the coil snaps, your orgasms shatter through you, both continuing the movements brokenly, watching the other fall apart with hooded eyes. Soft pants and watching Bucky’s cum coat his hand and abdomen you lick your lips.

“Want to taste you Bucky.” You say and he groans.

“Fuck, little one, you’re already needy for more?” He chuckles, cleaning himself.

You lay back against your pillows, hair sticking to your scalp. 

You look down at his cock that twitches at his own words.

“Fuck my mouth, Mr. Barnes.” You challenge, he huffs a laugh.

“If you’re insatiable now…” He trails off, knowing he is growing hard again at the sight of you, fucked out, hair messed, eyes bright.

“If you aren’t leaving from between my thighs, it’s because my legs are holding you in.” You grab the very pillow used, your confidence in showing him what you wanted, touching yourself had grown.

Your legs wrap around the pillow and Bucky does a double take of the sight. Fuck he can’t wait to taste you. He fists his cock. You smirk at him.

“Insatiable, little one.” He teases, you bite your lip, anticipation thrumming at his next words.

“Get on your knees, pillow under you. Better not cum before I say so, little one.” He instructs, voice deep, bliss, needy for you. You whimper doing as he asked. Bucky stands, giving you a glorious view of him, fuck you wanted to taste him.

You open your mouth for him to see, oh you would be the end of him. 

Both of you ruining anyone else for the other.

That evening, Bucky falls asleep at the dinner table. When he tells you how you had him spent, pride swells in your chest and his own. The two of you had come so far in this aspect of your relationship, being able to expose more and more of your skin and exploring all that worked for the two of you. Nicknames, types of touches, scenarios. 

All of it, all consuming, burning bright.

The day after you were having breakfast and Bucky a late dinner. You had resorted to being in your room when your dad was out and about the house, Bucky was trying to explain to you to not give him that power but you couldn’t even look at him without feeling bile in your throat.

You’re mid bite with your chosen meal of cereal and Bucky is in between explaining how yet again Brock’s mounting plate is falling off when he pauses looking behind you. Your brows furrow, anger ebbing at the prospect of your dad yet again intruding. You turn mouth set into a hard line.

But you don’t meet the eyes that watched you grow up. You look into blue ones, but they are dull, lacklustre. Not the azure your heart contentedly drowns in daily. 

You frown.

Then blink, wait,—

“You forgot me already?” The person says, your brain clicks.

“Who even—,” Bucky is cut off as the man pulls you into a hug. His hand tightens around his spoon. 

This guy better fucking stop his hand from moving any lower on your back.

“Quentin,” You tighten your shoulders, moving away, looking at Bucky who might just discover teleportation just to punch the smug guy whose hands do not leave your arm even when you step away, again.

“Y/N, you haven’t changed at all.” Quentin Beck muses.

You feel a shadow cast over your door. Bucky looks right at your dad, jaw set. Your dad crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“He better get his hands off of you.” Bucky growls and you shiver, moving away again and Quentin finally gets the hint, you move closer to the desk, trying to stay close to Bucky.

“The Becks are here to visit, I invited them to stay with us. Given how you and Quentin were joined at the hip, I think it would be nice to catch up.” Your dad gives a pleasant smile, but you don’t give any visible response.

Bucky’s nostrils flare, as Quentin ducks to wave at him.

“Who is this?” He questions an unabashed grin on his face, compared to Bucky’s scowl.

“My b—,”

“A charity case. You know her loves playing nurse.” Your dad says dismissively.

“Ah, yes, I was always patient.” Beck jokes and you feel venom pool your mouth, you swallow it down.

“He’s my boyfriend, James Barnes.” You say loud enough so Dad’s cheek twitches, a tell for his annoyance.

“Oh, hey man, I’m Quentin Beck, an old friend. Let’s catch up sometime over drinks?” He waves at Bucky.

You take off your headphones, Bucky breathes, once twice. Your dad watching and waiting for a reply.

“Im in New York City.” Your boyfriend looks to you, you’re on edge. Fuck he wanted to whisk you away from there. 

“Long distance?” Beck scoffs, “Hard shit man, how long before you both started LDR?” 

“We got together over long distance.” Bucky keeps his expression stoic. Understanding that this guy was someone who thrived getting under the skin of people.  

“Oh, well that is something.” Quentin looks to you, “Join in for breakfast?”

“She’s on a breakfast date with me, so you will have to excuse her.” Bucky buts in, close to seething. 

Quentin only smiles in response, something about it sets Bucky on edge as well. 

“Well then, I will catch you later, since I’m here for a while.” Quentin closes in on you again.

Bucky watches helplessly as you go rigid. 

“I’ve missed you little princess.” Quentin strokes your cheek, fanning Bucky’s anger then turns to leave behind your father. 

You close your door quietly. Refusing to look at Bucky because you’re at a loss of words. 

“I do not know what he did, but I am killing him.” Bucky’s jaw clenches and his knuckles are white with how hard his muscles are tensing. 

“Bucky, he, he was my first boyfriend. He broke everything in me before leaving.” Your voice cracks. 

Oh Bucky is livid now, “Your father knew?” 

You nod, he clicks his tongue. 

“Its on purpose.” He places forth his theory. 

“Buck, I hate Quentin. I’m not going to get back together with him even if he was the last person left on earth.” You look up at Bucky his gaze slowly growing warm again. 

“I don’t trust him.” Bucky states, neither man worthy of trust. Not one ounce of trust. 

“I don’t either.” You agree. 

“Come on, lets get back to breakfast/dinner. We’ll deal with that piece of shit later. One wrong move, Doll and I don’t care about anything, I will fuck that guy up.” Bucky’s words tug at you. 

“You won’t have to cause I won’t let him do anything.” You assure. 

“Even if not, that stunt he just pulled? Evading your personal space.” Bucky’s thumb bends the fork. Your eyes widen. 

“Bucky—,”

“Just, tell me something to distract me.” He requests, continuing to eat his spaghetti with the spoon he had gotten for dessert. 

You bite back an endearing grin, but he catches hints of it and his anger simmers into nothingness. 

“Found that cute did you?” He grins, shaking his head. 

“Absolutely. I find you very cute.” You praise and admire the red tinge on his cheeks. 

“I’m not cute, I’m—,”

“Hot? Sexy? Devilishly handsome? Sweet? My everything?” You offer, deepening the crimson over taking his skin. 

“Doll.” Is all he says but his smile tells you all you need to know, its the Doll Smile. 

“I love you, Bucky.” Your heart always warming at your words. 

“I love you, Y/N.” He says, causing your heart to somersault with his own. 

He reaches out, touching the screen with his thumb to stroke your cheek. You lean you head, as though you can feel him. 

Bucky finds his heart clench, he had to get to you beyond the confines of his laptop screen and city.

Dreaming about having you close was not enough. 

Dreaming about meeting you, laying beside you, having you play with his hair as his rested his head in your lap. 

It was never enough. 

A.N: hope everyone reading, enjoyed this chapter! let me know! also thank you for reading! this fic is honestly my comfort space and i really enjoy writing it so much so thank you for reading and interacting!! 💖

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