#neither will let buck live this down and also have a weird understanding where if they're in the same room at least they can

[mattzerella-sticks]

When Eddie comes out as gay the funniest thing Buck can do is set him up on a blind date with Josh only for Buck to learn too late that Josh and Eddie don't like each other.

[kumzume]

glam ft. todoroki shotō [smhub]

wc. 2.8k :3

warnings. ownership, soft-ish!dom reader, edging, v v lowkey pet play (u call him bunny lol), quiet whiny shoto, begging, miss k*nk (?), slight humiliation k*nk, crying, um

an. SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG HOLY S WORD I HOPE ITS OK I DIDNT GET ANYONE TO BETA IT SO IF THERE ARE ISSUES M SO SORRY LOVE YALL TY FOR WAITING

▼・ᴥ・▼

shoto todoroki was so pretty.

it wasn’t like he wasn’t aware — he’d heard the whispers amongst the girls back at U.A. about how attractive he was. that didn’t keep him from believing those words, his insecurities gripping him so tightly that he was unable to even imagine that anyone found him remotely appealing.

that is, until he met you.

when you first transferred into 3-A, the class was thrown into an uproar. you were beautiful, kind, and funny with a powerful quirk to boot! and yet, you never believed that you were better than anyone else, always treating every single person with respect — even bakugou (shoto couldn’t even pretend to understand how you did it but still, the behavior was so undeniably you).

it was all of your remarkable traits that ended up being shoto’s downfall. he believed you were way out of his league — you deserved someone emotionally available and sweet, things that todoroki felt, no knew, he was not. besides, with every single guy in the nearest vicinity falling for you, he knew he didn’t even have a chance.

so, shoto resigned himself to observe you from afar, watching your interactions with his closest friends and classmates, wishing that he could make you smile as wide as kirishima and deku or laugh as hard as sero and denki.

he knew he didn’t measure up and while he tried to make himself okay with that, he felt jealousy bubbling up beneath his skin when he observed shinsou helping you with your homework or bakugou training with you after school.

of course, he realized he didn’t belong to you or you to him and he had no real reason to be envious of whoever you chose to spend your time with but that didn’t stop him from fucking his hand late at night at the thought of you hovering over him, pressing soft kisses to his mangled scar and calling him beautiful.

shoto came embarrassingly quick with that fantasy, the shame and disappointment overwhelming him to the point where he’d purposefully ignored you for days after.

he could tell you were hurt by his behavior — he wasn’t entirely oblivious — but he knew it was for the best. you deserved so much more than him.

the both of you graduated and moved on to your respective agencies, shoto swiftly making his way up to the number 2 spot while you sat comfortably at number 17. neither of you saw each other very often but when you did, conversation was stilted and a bit awkward due to the intense attraction and inability to act on it on shoto’s part.

shoto was willing to go the rest of his life like this; seeing you briefly in passing, stumbling through a discussion with much difficulty, and then returning to his penthouse to hump his pillow and cry out your name.

it was a pretty good system for the most part. shoto had no worries about ever having to face his feelings for you and was content to live out his days suppressing his inner turmoil just for you.

unfortunately, the universe hates him.

at least that’s what he told himself as he stood in the center of a boardroom next to you, clad in your hero outfits and listening to instructions on an upcoming mission that required you and shoto to work together. alone. for days at a time.

what the fuck.

to be honest, shoto completely tuned out the minute he heard “one bedroom,” his mind racing with all the horribly tempting ways his fantasies could play out.

by the time the meeting was over, he was hard in his pants and entirely distracted as you attempted to make friendly small talk about your mission. shoto sort of felt like he should apologize for being an absolute brick wall, giving you curt one word answers until you decided to leave him alone.

he felt bad but what else could he do when you stood there, wearing your obscene hero costume that revealed way too much of your skin?

well, shoto was being a little dramatic but that’s how he felt! your suit was a play on the playboy bunny costume but instead of being black leather (he thinks he would actually die if you wore leather in front of him), it was a white, lightweight fabric that helped with your quirk.

it was entirely too sexy and reminded him a little too much of one of his secret kinks that he was determined to never let see the light of day.

it was going to be ok! he reasoned. all he had to do was do his job, ignore you like he’s done for the past 3 years and everything would be just fine — right?

wrong. so fucking wrong.

the mission had gone well on all accounts. you both had kicked ass, much to your enjoyment, and were able to go back home a day early!

you were so excited to finally be back in your own bed and away from the weird tension that being around todoroki brought. it wasn’t that you didn’t like him — in fact it was quite the opposite.

you found shoto alluring and gorgeous, his awkward yet endearing mannerisms drawing you further into the mystery that was shoto todoroki. regrettably, it didn’t seem like the man in question was on the same page.

every time you tried to speak with him, he would either stutter and blush or refuse to look you in the eye and give you one-word answers. it was actually ridiculously cute but he would always disappear the first chance he got.

it hurt but you weren’t one to push boundaries where you weren’t wanted.

that’s why that night, instead of going back up to the room to watch tv (uncomfortably, might i add) and knocking yourself out, you decided to go down to the bar and celebrate a job well done.

one of the perks of being a relatively unknown hero was that you could enjoy a night in public without anyone approaching you, a luxury you knew not many top 20 heroes could afford.

with that thought — and the memory of the stifling hotel room awaiting you upstairs — in mind, you made your way to the sparsely populated bar, sitting down and immediately requesting a drink (bourbon, on the rocks).

you scanned the area, counting the number of exits and patrons before your eyes landed on the handsome bartender down at the other end of the counter.

with curly brown hair, bright green eyes and a smile that could kill, there was no way you could lie to yourself and say he was unattractive. even as your mind briefly entertained the notion of taking the brunette out into the alley and fucking him within an inch of his life, your heart just wasn’t in it.

your mind just couldn’t stop drifting to the tall, dual-haired, oh so pretty, man who was (inadvertently) waiting for you upstairs. of course, you weren’t even his to wait for but you didn’t know how to keep from imagining that he was.

a deep sigh escaped your parted lips before you downed the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn it left as it went down your throat. it was getting late and you weren’t planning on spending your night alone with the janitor.

you sent the cute bartender a soft smile while pressing a crisp $20 to the counter. he sent you his own grin back as his eyes trailed down your body clad in your tight hero suit, licking his plump lips in arousal.

you were flattered, truly, but you were a little occupied with getting back to your room, changing into some comfortable pajamas and conking the fuck out.

the trip back up to your room was long and arduous to your sore body, the elevators being out of commission leaving you to take the stairs.

by the time you were at your door, you were so worn out that you were ready to collapse but before you could manage placing your key against the lock, something caught your ear.

“p-please miss,” a breathy moan of your name followed by a wet slapping noise rang out through the door. “i’ll be your perfect bunny, just let m-me cum, please-!!”

holy fuck.

shoto todoroki, the man you’d been crushing on since your years at UA was now touching himself to the thought of you doing god know what to him and he was calling you miss?

you felt heat flood your core, your knees buckling under the heavy weight of your lust. now braced against the door, you leaned your ear against the wood, determined to hear exactly what was getting him off.

more wet noises permeated through the walls — did he just spit in his palm??? — before a long whine left his pretty pink lips.

“m-miss, i belong to you, y-you own me,” he gasped, the creaking of the bed just barely audible beneath his wavering voice.

by now, you knew you’d soaked through the crotch of your hero costume, your clit throbbing painfully beneath the fabric of your panties. you also knew you should turn around, head back to the bar and order another drink, leaving shoto to finish himself off but you couldn’t.

your feet were implanted in place, ear glued against the door as you listened to your partner masturbate to the thought of you owning him.

quietly, you lifted the hand gripping your key to the door, allowing the touchpad to register before slowly pushing the door open.

the sight that greeted you was otherworldly.

the blinds were parted allowing a dreamy haze of moonlight to envelop the room, casting the pale man before you in a somehow whimsical light.

he was stripped down to nothing, lying on his back with a hand wrapped around his gorgeous, swollen cock, furiously stroking himself to completion.

the plump lips that you had spent so much time admiring were parted, allowing whines and whimpers to leave them sporadically as his lithe hips bucked up into his hand.

shoto’s eyes were clenched shut so he was unable to see your dumbfounded, painfully aroused face as you crept into the room, leaning against the wall with your hand pressed to your mouth.

it wasn’t as though you’d never seen a man naked before — you’d had your fair share of men naked in your bed begging for you — but this was something else.

this was shoto — somehow more intimidating than anyone else you’d ever brought to bed and yet you’ve never wanted anyone more.

which is why you were almost surprised at yourself when you opened your mouth and whispered, “stop.”

immediately, shoto’s eyes shot open, wide with fear and apprehension as he lied there frozen, his hand still wrapped tightly around his girth.

the both of you stood there staring at one another, neither of you able to move. you let yourself have this moment to look at him, your eyes tracking all over his muscular form before landing on his length, not missing how it twitched under your gaze.

“i-“ shoto started but he was quickly interrupted by your own voice. “s’this what you do when i’m gone? touch yourself to the thought of me? you’re so dirty bunny.”

it was impossible to hide the low groan that echoed out in the hotel room, shoto’s cheeks burning red in humiliation. a grin crept across your face as you made your way towards him, giggling to yourself at the way he moved up and away from you on the bed.

“now you’re trying to hide, bunny? you weren’t hiding when you were moaning out my name.” your hand slid up his thigh until it was resting on his sharp hipbone, an abrupt gasp leaving his chest.

your hand continued its trajectory, fingers trailing across his tummy before coming to wrap around the base of his cock.

“o-oh fuck, miss—“ a thick drop of precum leaked from his slit and onto your awaiting hand as a low moan departed from the dual-haired boy.

one of his hands shot out to hold yours, drawing your attention to his heterochromatic gaze. shoto’s eyes held so much emotion, small tears already littering his lashline while the moonlight illuminated his crimson scar. he was ethereal.

“pretty,” you hummed, giving him a gentle smile while your hand squeezed his in reassurance. you’d had enough experience to know that that kind of comment was guaranteed to get some kind of vulnerability but what you were not expecting was the expletive shoto muttered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

immediately, he was over-enthusiastic, his lips and teeth clashing with yours messily, almost painfully, before you took control of the kiss, slowing shoto down before slipping your tongue inside his mouth.

his quiet groan vibrated into the kiss as you deliberately laid him down, resting his back against the pillows. from there, you had more access to his body, your lips trailing down to his neck while your hand took its place back on his length, lazily pumping him up and down.

“m-miss!” shoto choked, his eyes widening yet again, holding you with his stare. you chose not to respond, instead stroking him quicker while pressing kisses to his shoulder.

“miss,” he tried again, this time more deliberately. “p-please tell me i’m yours...”

with him asking so sweetly, a few tears leaking from his gorgeous eyes at the overwhelming moment, how were you supposed to deny him?

“of course bunny,” you purred, leaning down to peck his nose, sending shivers through his body. “you are mine.”

shoto’s reaction was instantaneous. his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth dropped open as he felt his pleasure begin to crest, determined to push him over the edge.

you, of course, noticed his body’s response and quickly pulled your hand off of him, painfully ripping his orgasm from his grasp. a disappointed whimper resonated throughout the room as shoto’s eyes found yours, staring at you with such betrayal that you almost found it funny.

“c’mon bunny,” you moved until you were kneeling between his legs, your hands leaving featherlight touches to his inner thighs. “you can hold out for me, right?”

shoto nodded before he could stop himself, desperate for anything you would give him.

besides, it couldn’t be that hard to hold off, right?

...

wrong. so very wrong.

it had only been 30 minutes but it felt like 2 hours since you started playing with him and keeping him from coming.

shoto was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, both hands tangled in his bi-colored locks, eyes squeezed shut with tear tracks now drying on his cheeks and his cock standing fully at attention.

it was purple, throbbing, and covered in precum as you licked a stripe up the side making shoto sob in pleasure.

he had never been harder in his life and he was certain that he would just die if you didn’t let him cum soon.

“p-please, please, miss, please, let me cum,” he babbled, shaking his head mindlessly while bucking his hips up into the warm heat of your mouth.

you chose to ignore his pleas while you moved your mouth over his tip, sucking hard while your hand pumped what wasn’t in your mouth.

“a-ah-!!” shoto shrieked, his back bowing off the bed, his orgasm coming on so hard and so fast that he felt like he was going to explode. “c-can’t hold back m-miss, i can’t, i can’t!”

your hand continued to pick up speed before you pulled your mouth off of him, toying with his tip while leaning up to breathe into his ear.

“cum for me bunny. you’re mine.”

with a cry of your name, shoto came, thick spurts of cum covering his abs, chest and thighs as his body convulsed under the weight of his bliss.

it was the most all encompassing orgasm he’d ever had and you, his former classmate, current partner, and future lover, was beside him through it all, helping him ride it out.

in the back of his mind, shoto knew he should be at least a little worried about how your relationship was going to change after all of this but he couldn’t bring himself to care. you were here and now, bringing him the most pleasure he’d ever undergone with nothing but kind words and a smile, filling his touchstarved heart with heat and, dare he say it, love.

shoto may not have been the funniest or the most open but you chose him, even if it was just for the night. and now that he unlocked how much he loved you, nothing else mattered — just you and him.

as he collapsed back into the sheets, his head just barely registering the cool rag wiping him down, he took pride in how he finally admitted it to himself; shoto loved you and he would be damned if he let anyone else take him away from you.

now, all he had to do was tell you but that was a conversation for another day.

▼・ᴥ・▼

taglist. if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you!!

@anikazoldeck • @hakunamatatayqueen • @alilsumnsumn • @sukunaslefttesticle • @hawksyoongi • @rivviespens • @kenmas-nintendoswitch • @myumyutie • @unicorngluttony • @bloomyagi • @shantellmcintosh • @queenhxla • @yeyehdom • @persies-main • @yikes-buddy • @nnmesis • @thehandsresisthim • @hinatabokeboke • @joongsite • @amazinghefi • @sarcasticambiguity • @mr-bombastic • @i-am-literally-deranged • @ch0pi • @aonjuh • @www-bubblefish • @meliorist-midoriya • @maizurie • @idkdude776 • @midarislonglostlefteye • @queerloser17 • @franklyrobin • @ravioliplease • @ashsera • @chirumi • @yamashiro888 • @xxjosiexx • @krstnn • @bbsista • @seij6hs • @franklyrobin • @chirumi • @melodysakura

[fruitydiaz-archived]

that's what i want for him

post-eddie begins | eddie meets with his attorney to change his will | a little feelings realization | a little pining | a little buckley-diaz family moment

4,097 words

AO3 link

The day that Eddie has his appointment with his attorney to alter his will, he’s sick with nerves.

He thought he had made peace with his own mortality a long time ago, when he enlisted and found himself pinned down, a world away from his family and bleeding out in the middle of a warzone — but something about the official stature of a will has always made him feel nervous.

He’s still young, and he has no plans to die anytime soon, but who really does? Shannon certainly hadn’t planned on it either. Dealing with grief is hard enough as is, especially when it’s the loss of a parent, and if Eddie can make that experience any more bearable for Chris, then that’s what he’s going to do.

Ever since Shannon died, he’s had his parents down as Christopher’s legal guardians should anything happen to him. It wasn’t a decision he ever felt comfortable with — but he didn’t have anyone else, and he didn’t really have a choice. He had to make sure that Christopher had someone in case things went wrong on a call.

But since the well came down — well, before that actually. Ever since the tsunami, ever since the lawsuit, ever since the skateboard accident — Eddie’s known that he needs to adjust his will, because in none of those situations were Eddie’s parents around to make sure Christopher was okay.

Buck was.

It wasn’t that they didn’t care. They certainly called Eddie after they heard the news about the tsunami. They asked if Christopher was okay (not him, Christopher), and made their usual comments about how Texas would be so much safer for him — they hadn’t had both an earthquake and a tsunami over the last year. They made sure they did their best to let Eddie know that he was making a mistake keeping Chris there, that he was making a mistake not relocating him after he lost his mom, that Chris was going to get seriously hurt one of these days and it would be his fault. They said all of the things he knew they would.

But they weren’t there.

The well was a close call — too close — and in that moment when the mud came down on top of him and the water started to fill his lungs — he realized he couldn’t leave Christopher with them. Not when there was someone else right there, someone who loved Christopher the way he did, someone who would do anything for him, someone who understood him.

He’s still reeling from the accident a bit, as he sits in the office, bouncing his leg up and down and trying hard to tamp down his nerves and failing, as you do after near-death experiences. He keeps having to remind himself that he’s not down there anymore, that there isn’t water all around him, that he can breathe perfectly fine, that he’s on solid ground now.

He has to remind himself that when he fell, Buck and Hen were there to grasp his hands and pull him back up. He’s okay.

“Mr. Diaz?” A voice calls to his left. He looks up to see his attorney in the doorway, standing with her hands clasped in front of her. She smiles at him politely.

She’s a tall, fairly nondescript woman, with soft, quiet features, and thick curly black hair that’s always pulled back into a bun. She always comes dressed in suits but leaves her suit jacket draped over the back of her chair, moving about her office and greeting clients in soft cashmere sweaters.

She always seems to be wearing a smile — but not in an unsettling way. When Shannon was still around, when Eddie was warming up to the idea of welcoming her back into his life, Eddie had made some comment about her having middle school teacher energy — the kind of middle school teacher that still enjoyed working with kids but also took them seriously and didn’t allow any room for bullshit — and Shannon had laughed at him for using the word energy. She said something about Buck rubbing off on him and he rolled his eyes.

It’s just that she reminds him of someone, someone from his past — but he just can’t ever place her. He’s always been bad with faces. But there’s something familiar and grounding about her, something that helped Eddie feel calm when he first met her. But today, she doesn’t calm his nerves.

He feels sick.

He hasn’t seen her since Shannon died.

He stands up and wipes his shaking hands against his jeans, following her into her office.

When Eddie imagined an attorney’s office, when he was a little younger and more naive, he imagined it being small, cramped, with overflowing filing cabinets against one wall and bookshelves filled with boxes of legal documents and binders and books filled with rules and statutes that he could never dream of understanding. He imagined it as something that would make him feel small and cramped — and that the lawyer on the other side of the desk would peer over their tiny wireframe glasses at him and scrutinize every decision he made.

But Stacy’s office is different — it’s calmer, more minimalist. Her walls are a cool white that contrasts against all of the black furniture. The boxes on her shelves are a uniform grey with white labels with little script that’s illegible to Eddie. She even has a little bonsai tree on her desk. It reminds him of a therapist’s office — one that Shannon tried to make him see earlier on in their marriage, between deployments. Sometimes he can appreciate the universe’s weird sense of humor. Today he doesn’t.

He hates having to be here, having to deal with all of the weird legal aspects of living and dying, but he’s doing this for Christopher, so he swallows his nerves.

“I understand you’re wanting to change your will?” Stacy begins, pulling Eddie’s file onto her desk and flipping it open. He nods.

“Yes, I just want to make an adjustment to the legal guardianship — for Christopher,” She nods for him to continue. “After last year, I changed it so my parents would be his legal guardians. I’d like to change it again.”

Stacy smiles softly at him again before pulling something up on her computer. She opens a drawer and retrieves some blank paperwork and sets it on her desk.

“And who will you be changing it to?”

“His name is Evan Buckley. He’s...my friend. Coworker, actually, but...he understands Chris better than they do. Or ever could, really.”

Stacy nods, writing Buck’s name down on the paper before setting the pen down, folding her hands together again, and studying Eddie.

“So, last year when we adjusted your will after your wife passed, I remember your parents being here with us,” She says, and it’s not unkind or pointed in any way, but her words still make Eddie shift in his chair, like he’s done something wrong.

“That’s right,” Eddie says, clearing his throat.

“And Mr. Buckley isn’t here with us today.”

“No,” Eddie says, picking at a loose strand in the hem of his jeans. “He’s working a shift today.”

“I see, are you sure you don’t want him to be present for this? It’s a big decision.”

Eddie blinks at her before shifting his eyes around the room.

“Does he need to be here?”

“No, not at all. We normally encourage both parties to be here, but I’m sure you’ve gotten his consent already, it’s just a formality, really,” Stacy smiles and turns back to her file, picking the pen up again, and opening her mouth to ask another question, when Eddie interrupts her.

“Do I need to have, um, written consent or something to do this? I don’t remember my parents having to sign anything.”

Stacy looks back up at Eddie. For a moment neither of them says anything. She slowly sets her pen back down.

“It’s not required, but it is recommended. This is a big decision, as I’m sure you’re aware. Trusting someone as your child’s legal guardian isn’t something to be taken lightly — especially when they’re not family.”

Eddie frowns — he’s not taking this lightly. It’s all he’s been able to think about for weeks. Every morning when he sits down with Christopher to have breakfast it’s a reminder that he almost lost this. Every time he comes home to Christopher after a long day of work there’s a sense of relief that he’s never felt before — he got to come home again. When he sees the drawings of Shannon that Christopher did that Eddie keeps locked in his nightstand — unable to throw them away, but definitely not keeping them anywhere where Chris could find them again — he remembers how close Chris came to losing another parent.

When he thinks about Chris being uprooted, ripped out of this life they built in California just to be dragged back to Texas, with parents like his who always think they know what’s best but never allow room for adjustments, with parents he knows will stifle him — it’s heartbreaking. He knows this is the right decision.

But Stacy doesn’t give him the opportunity to say all of that, and she continues to press, gently.

“You have had a conversation about this with him?” Eddie shrinks in his chair a bit.

“No, we haven’t — we haven’t talked about it. But, look, you don’t know Buck, okay? This isn’t,” He pauses, waving his hand while he tries to figure out what to say. “A couple of weeks ago, I was in an accident. It was pretty bad, and — I could’ve died. I was drowning and all I could think about was how I couldn’t leave Chris alone. And then, if I did die, how miserable he would be with my parents. I mean, you met them.”

Stacy doesn’t respond.

“Well, I was raised by them, so — I know what they’d be like, and I don’t want that for Christopher. Buck would do anything for Christopher. Already has. He’s...it’s him. I want him to be Christopher’s guardian, you know, if anything ever happens.”

Stacy nods and sits back in her chair.

“Eddie,” She starts, breaking formality. “Listen, I understand. This kind of thing happens more often than you’d think. There’s a kind of clarity that comes to people when they have a close encounter with death. I imagine it was especially clarifying for you, so soon after your wife’s death.”

She sits up again and studies Eddie carefully.

“I just want to make sure that you’re aware — if something happens and you haven’t told Mr. Buckley, he could refuse.”

Eddie shakes his head vehemently.

“No,” He says confidently. He looks at Stacy again, dead in the eye so that she knows he’s serious. “He wouldn’t do that. Believe me.”

“And if your family tries to fight it?” Eddie looks away then, and his eyes get a little distant. He smiles a small, private smile, before looking back at Stacy.

“They won’t ever fight as hard as him. Trust me.”

Stacy holds his gaze for a moment.

You learn a lot about people when you’re in her line of work — people come in all of the time and show her their hands, inadvertently pouring their hearts out, and revealing everything that’s most important to them as they sort out their estates. She’s seen plenty of people make weird, terrible, stupid, and callous decisions in the event of their death. She’s seen plenty of people come in after a close call and make hasty, half-baked decisions that she doesn’t have the power to counsel them against.

But, with her admittedly limited understanding of who Eddie Diaz is as a person, he’s not the kind of person who makes hasty, half-baked decisions, especially not when it comes to what he loves most — Christopher. They’ve only seen each other a few times: when Eddie first moved to LA and was altering his will, and when Shannon died. She’s seen him worn, tired, dragged down by grief. From what she sees, he’s a man who’s burdened by the need to do what's right for everyone else around him.

When he came in with his parents the year before, he had seemed small, and it had struck her. She remembered him from their first meeting as an army man with strong shoulders and a jaw set with stubborn determination — but then he just seemed like a child.

The man in front of her now is somewhere in between, softened by the home he’s clearly made for him and his son here. He’s still worn, a little shaken after his incident, still clearly grieving the loss of his wife, but the look in his eyes is strong and sure.

And as much as she would prefer that Mr. Buckley, or Buck, as Eddie keeps calling him, were here, she can clearly tell the difference in how Eddie feels about him versus his parents by the way he talks. He didn’t say much when his parents were in her office, just nodded along to what they said and made quiet, reserved comments to affirm their decisions. At the time, she wasn’t sure if it was the grief or their presence that was making him small — but she gets it now. Buck clearly understands Eddie in a way that few people have before.

She just hopes that Eddie talks to him about it soon — because the man does seem to be a kind of magnet for life-threatening situations, and she would really prefer not to have to break the news to a surprised, grief-stricken Evan Buckley herself. That’s her least favorite part of the job.

But she doesn’t press any further — Eddie’s made his case and Stacy’s certain she won’t be able to convince him to hold off any longer to at least talk to Buck, and they finish sorting out the paperwork.

Stacy sends Eddie off with the promise to get in touch with him when the changes to his will are finalized, and a gentle suggestion to talk with Buck soon.

He’s out the door feeling a dozen pounds lighter.

Eddie considers telling Buck after that, he really does. He understands that it’s probably something he should hear about sooner rather than later. But something holds him back, something makes him want to keep those cards close to his chest, and he’s not sure why.

He doesn’t tell anyone, not for a while. He really should tell his parents — and he will, eventually — but he’s not really looking forward to that particular conversation. He can already hear their arguments in his head, how Buck is in just as dangerous a profession as he is, how Buck is a stranger — not family, how he’s barely known this man for two years when they’ve known him his whole life — that one will make him laugh, he’s sure.

The first person he tells ends up being Carla.

It’s a few weeks later and he’s chatting with her on the phone, chopping up vegetables in the kitchen, helping prep dinner while Chris and Buck are playing games in the living room.

He’s been thinking about broaching the topic all night, now that he’s gotten a chance to be alone with Buck, but he feels a little anxious at the idea — even though he knows Buck won’t refuse. It just feels like a big thing that they probably won’t ever have to deal with — it’s not like he plans on dying.

But the idea is fresh in his mind, so it shouldn’t be that surprising when Carla asks him what’s new and he responds, “I changed my will.”

She doesn’t say anything for a second, and Eddie glances down at his phone to make sure the call didn’t get disconnected on accident.

“Oh?” Carla asks, clearly surprised. “What made you change it?”

“The well,” Eddie says, sliding some chopped carrots off the cutting board and into a bowl. He hears Carla hum in acknowledgment, then smiles as he hears Buck shout from the living room. Chris beat him, again. He’s alive, he’s okay.

“What exactly did you change?”

“Christopher’s legal guardianship...you know, if anything like that happens again and, uh, I don’t make it,” He tries to say this casually, but his throat starts to close up again at the end. He coughs.

“Who’d you change it to?” Carla asks, her voice soft. Eddie pauses, then steps away from the counter, peeking around the corner to check on Buck and Chris. The volume of their game is loud — too loud, really — but they’re engrossed in it, and Eddie’s comfortable with the thought that they can’t overhear his conversation. He walks back to his phone.

“Buck,” He admits quietly.

“Did you talk to him about this?” Carla asks, eventually, and it strikes Eddie how well she knows him. She doesn’t even sound surprised that he made Buck Christopher’s legal guardian.

When he doesn’t respond, he hears Carla sigh.

“Eddie, this is the kind of thing you should talk to him about. If something happens and he suddenly finds out from your lawyer—“

“He’s not gonna refuse,” Eddie says confidently.

“No, and I didn’t say that he would. It would just be fair to him to tell him before, God forbid, something happens to you and he has to hear it from a stranger instead of his best friend.”

“I’m not planning on dying any time soon, Carla,” Eddie says, and he wants to feel confident as he says it, wants it to come off light-hearted and joking, but he’s still terrified and his voice betrays him.

“I know you’re not, honey,” Carla says sympathetically. “But we both know that anything can happen to any one of us, any day. I know I don’t need to remind you of that.”

Eddie nods, even though Carla can’t see him, and continues chopping vegetables.

“It’s just,” Eddie pauses, working out his words. “I don’t — should I tell Christopher? Maybe he should know first.”

“How did you do it when you changed it with your parents last year?” Eddie shrugs.

“Wasn’t really my decision. They were here, they decided it should be them, they told Christopher, we went to my attorney and made it happen. This time...this time it was my choice. And I don’t really know what to do here.”

He lets out a shaky laugh and finds himself, surprisingly, wishing Shannon was here.

It’s one of those things that happens after you lose someone you love — you forget all of the bad parts of your relationship and start to miss the good. He wishes she was here right now, chopping vegetables, teasing him for being useless in the kitchen. He wishes he wasn’t having this conversation right now. He wishes he didn’t feel so old, so marked by death.

He hears Christopher’s victory shout from the living room again, and his heart races to latch onto it. As long as he has his kid, everything’s okay. He wouldn’t take anything back — not for this. Christopher’s happy now.

Then he hears Buck laughing good-naturedly, hears him lowering the volume, and then listens as Chris tries to wheedle another round out of him.

“Come on, buddy, it’s time for me to start dinner. I gotta make sure your dad doesn’t burn any of our dinner in there, or accidentally chop a finger off cutting vegetables. Let’s go get you washed up and then we can help him out, okay?”

Eddie doesn’t hear Christopher’s response, he imagines it was something like a groan and a not-so-subtle eye roll, but he registers the sound of the TV cutting off and Buck’s weight lifting up off the couch. A couple of seconds later and there’s the sound of running water in the bathroom down the hall, and Christopher giggling over the noise.

Everything’s okay.

“Look, Carla, I’m sorry to cut this short but — Buck’s here and he’s about to come help me out in the kitchen, so, I gotta—“

“Just breathe, Eddie. You’ll figure it out, okay? Just make sure you tell him soon.” Eddie hums, noncommittal, and he’s pretty sure he can hear the way Carla shakes her head fondly. “And give that boy a kiss for me, will you?”

“Christopher or Buck?” Eddie jokes before he can stop himself. He freezes, knife hovering mid chop. He hears the water in the bathroom shut off and starts to panic, for some reason he can’t explain. That’s a normal joke to make about your friend, right? Carla would totally kiss him if she was here.

“Whichever one you want,” Carla says after a while, quiet and knowing.

“Hey, is that Carla?” Buck asks as he enters the kitchen.

“Great, thanks Carla, bye,” Eddie rushes, flustered and scrambling to end the call. He turns back around to face Buck, who’s looking at him quizzically.

“I was just gonna say hi?” He says, tilting his head to the side. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Great,” Eddie says, unconvincingly. Buck raises an eyebrow. “Um, fine, just — not sure...how many...potatoes you need me to chop?”

Buck doesn’t take his eyes off Eddie. He studies him, eyes flicking over his face, mentally running through his memory to see if Eddie’s been off lately. And, well, he has — he almost died a couple of weeks ago.

Eddie’s caginess isn’t hard to read — but Buck’s gotten pretty good at knowing when’s the right time to push and when’s the right time to sit back and wait, let Eddie come to him. As much as he doesn’t like it, this is a sit back and wait kind of situation.

He regards Eddie one last time before stepping up to the counter next to him, his hand hovering behind Eddie’s back. Eddie really wants to know why that makes him nervous all of a sudden. They’re close to each other all the time, practically touching each other constantly, but right now proximity to Buck is making it hard to breathe. Buck’s only got a couple of inches on him but it feels like he’s towering over him. It’s making him a little dizzy.

“I’m pretty sure this is enough,” Buck says, sliding away from Eddie and pulling a tray out of the cabinet by the stove, blissfully unaware of the way Eddie’s heart is racing in his chest. “I told Christopher he could help so I figured he could season the vegetables? I’ll measure the spices out for him so we don’t end up eating pure salt like we did last time.”

He sends Eddie a wink as he says that and then turns around, pulling spices out of Eddie’s cabinets and grabbing these tiny bowls that Eddie didn’t even know he had. He’s stunned, watching Buck move around the kitchen with ease, like this isn’t the hundredth time Buck has been over to cook them dinner.

It feels a little like he stepped into some alternate reality, like everything is exactly as it should be but something’s just slightly off. Something’s shifted, but he’s not sure what.

When Christopher comes in moments later, Buck gets him set up at the table easily, letting him sit himself and setting his crutches to the side, placing the tray down in front of him with all of the spices in reach, and pointing out what each of them are and explaining how they flavor the food.

He drizzles the oil over the vegetables and then lets Chris go for it, dumping the bowls over the tray and then getting in there with him, using their hands to coat them all evenly. And that, of course, is Christopher’s favorite part. While Eddie’s still processing, the kitchen’s filled with the sounds of Christopher laughing and Buck laughing along with him, encouraging the way he tosses each vegetable around to cover it in spices.

Eddie stands at the counter, still stunned, but warm all over. This is the kind of thing that keeps him going, the kind of thing that keeps him fighting when things get hard. It’s the kind of thing that Eddie will tuck inside his heart as a precious memory that will come back to him in the future whenever things inevitably get dark again.

He doesn’t want to tell Buck about the guardianship yet. He’ll tell Christopher first, and then his parents, and then, whenever the moment’s right, then he’ll tell Buck.

He’s not in any kind of rush. Things are perfect right now, and he just wants to enjoy that for a little bit longer.

[yniswaifu]

The bet - 3

Sweat and shoes hit the gym floor as the Inarizaki volleyball team practiced for the upcoming national tournament. The members were more stressed and under pressure, as in the previous year they lost the first place by a hair. But this time, they were determined to win.

Under normal circumstances, Osamu would be giving his all if not more, and completely down to compete with his brother. But for the past couple of days he had such a gloomy vibe around him that Atsumu didn't even want to approach him for an one-on-one game. Not like he was doing any better after f/n dumped him. But it was also not as bad as his twin.

You covered 90% of Osamu's thoughts lately. Half of it was trying to understand why you suddenly, out of nowhere talked about the bet with f/n, and the rest was of how much he missed you. He didn't tell anyone, as usual, and even if his teammates noticed the change, they didn't say anything. Including Kita – the most meticulous of the lot.

But the problem was, this was messing with the flow of the team and nationals was around the corner. Osamu had to do something about his issues, and he had to do it fast.

Missing the receive for the nth time now, Osamu cussed loudly and slammed his fist on the wall. He wanted to put his body and mind in the game, but he just couldn't. What the heck did you do to him.

"Osamu, take a break. And collect your thoughts." Aran said softly. He knew Osamu had to buck up, but he also understood something was troubling his teammate.

Sighing, the second year nods and sits near the wall with a towel in hand and water bottle in another. Suna was eyeing him, and so was his brother, but they didn't say anything.

"it's all y/n's fault." Atsumu says, clicking his tongue. He always thought you were one of the coolest people around, and perfect for his brother – but all this went out the window when it came to f/n and how she broke up with him the other day.

Atsumu was so confused and shocked and upset that it took him some time to realize what was happening. F/n was crying and he couldn't even hug her or console her because apparently it's over between them now that y/n revealed the truth behind the relationship. He was so mad at y/n that he swore if y/n was a guy then she would have been punched already. Although he did get a little rough with her by grabbing her collar.

That made him feel bad, but he wasn't going to admit it.

"I think what she did was correct though." Suna says, shrugging.

Atsumu is in shock. What is this guy saying? "correct? F/n broke up with me because of her dude!"

"not really. that's because the relationship didn't have the best start."

He was speechless. What Suna said was right, but...

Sighing, he chooses to ignore the words and resume their practice.

Osamu observed others. They all seemed to be in their top form, fit for the national. Meanwhile he's being a heartbroken Romeo.

Shaking his head, he tried to get his thoughts together. Y/n didn't have to go and dig up old memories. Memories that were supposed to be buried forever. He wanted to be with you and play volleyball, not deal with this mess you created.

Even if it was you who messed up, you had the audacity to go missing after that day. You neither called or texted him. And it also seemed like you were avoiding him. He could ask Ginjima, your second cousin, but the two of you lived away from each other.

Ten minutes in, Osamu felt better and felt like he could focus in the game. But just then, the gym doors open, and a familiar face peeps in.

Osamu halts in his place, wide eyed. He hadn't seen you for three days, but as soon as you appeared, it made him feel like he's seeing you after three years. And that made him a little emotional.

He sees you scan the room, missing him in the process. Finally, your eyes land on someone to his right, and he sees Kita walking towards you. You smile and say something, and Kita calls Ginjima.

He runs towards you, and you hand him something, a bento of sorts before smiling and waving him goodbye. Just then, Suna says, "y/n! Wait a minute!"

Osamu was busy staring at you when Suna's voice echoed in the gym and is surprised at the sudden call. He never expected Suna to do something so...bold. He sees you two talking, and how Suna is saying something to make you laugh, and he notices how you copy Suna's signature pose he does before his blocking. When did the two of you become close?

Atsumu, who is now standing beside his brother mutters under his breath, "never knew she will jump to another man so fast? That too Suna."

Osamu wanted to strangle his brother for that, but even he thought how much of that could be correct. You were laughing at Suna's words like you never had a boyfriend and never did anything wrong. And hadn't been contacting that so called boyfriend.

"Suna! Enough talking! Let's get back to practice!" he yells, much to everyone's surprise. He himself wasn't sure why he said that, but he did say that, and now both you and Suna look at Osamu at the same time.

He swore you saw your face drop before returning to normal.

You bid Suna goodbye and leave. He returns to the crowd and said something to Ginjima, ignoring Osamu.

"what did y/n give you?" Aran asks Ginjima.

"ah, a bento her mom prepared, since my parents won't be home, so aunty sent something for me for dinner." he answered.

Osamu's eyes narrowed. He shouldn't be jealous of Ginjima, since he's your cousin, but he was. And that was more irritating.

"y/n said to share some with me as well." Suna interrupts. It was such an obvious lie that made Aran roll his eyes.

Ginjima looks at him with a deadpan expression. "please. She didn't. I know her."

"but she did."

"never."

"I'll tell–"

"can you both shut up about y/n and get back to practice." Atsumu's voice interrupts them both. His tone was that of annoyance.

Suna gives him a side eye look, while Ginjima is surprised. What just happened?

"yo, you good?" he asks the blondie.

"not really. Nationals are coming up and here we're discussing about some stupid girl."

Wow, Osamu is pissed now.

"watch your mou–"

"don't call y/n stupid." Suna cuts him off. He looked pissed.

It's not just Osamu or Atsumu, but the whole gym that was surprised. First of all, that bold move he pulled earlier was shocking. And now he's defending someone? Is this really Suna Rintarou they knew?

Osamu felt helpless in all this. He couldn't bear this type of conflicted feeling, and he wanted to talk to you and sort this out. He hated fighting with you and because of the chaos and Suna's weird reactions and behaviour towards you, he felt insecure. It's not like you had broken up with him, then why is this happening? Where another man had to take your side?

With the resolve to make up with you, Osamu returns to the game when Kita orders everyone to go back to the game and talk this out when they weren't practicing.

I know chap 3 is short, but I felt anymore than this would ruin the flow. So stay tuned for chap 4. I think this fic would be another 2-3 chaps more. Also, Suna defending someone is...👀

Yeah.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ spells ✦

this chapter pairing; wizard!hoshi x reader

genre&warnings; wizard!hoshi, softdom!hoshi, oral(fem receiving), virgin!reader, fingering, good ‘ol lighthearted fucking😩, squirting.

notes; lets be real hoshi with magical abilities would be chaos kjdfhkdf🥴 also I know, I know, I wish I could hyperlink the previous chapters into each post but tumb1r rly seems to fuckin hate my account and hides my posts from tags for no reason as it is and RLY hates it when I start hyperlinking posts with the same links so I'll just try to keep my series masterlist updated from here on out!! you can also find my monster mash fics with the hashtag monstermash!svt on my blog!🎃💕 Thank you as always for your continued interest and see you tomorrow~! 👻 

word count; ~2800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x - x

boy you put your spell on me, there’s something about you;

‘cause even in the sleepless nights, i’m thinkin’ about you.

well i think it’s magic with you,

oh i think it’s magic.

yeah i think it’s magic with you.

You’ve known Soonyoung since the two of you were kids.

He played with you in the lavender fields and kept you company on rainy nights when the thunder scared you out of your wits.

Soonyoung lived in a cottage on the outskirts of the town now that the two of you were adults and he preferred to keep to himself; all things considered.

The townspeople weren’t really too fond of Soonyoung’s kind -- rumours of the magical beings causing havoc and destruction more prevalent than anything else. 

And for that reason alone, you most often offered to help Soonyoung gather necessities from the town and in trade, he would let you hang around his cottage while he would work on restoring old spell books. He almost never actually cast any spells or showed you anything he could do with his magic, but you were patient and understanding of his uncommon situation. 

And not only do you know Soonyoung, but you liked Soonyoung.

Even though he seemed quite oblivious to the fact.

You shake your head in thought, picking out a few more apples and adding them to your basket before you start the long walk towards Soonyoung’s cottage.

You soon see the smoke billowing from the chimney of Soonyoung cottage; jogging up the steps as you fish for the spare key he’d given you.

When you enter, the smell of cinnamon and old books welcomes you in like it’s your own and you immediately head for the kitchen to start setting aside the groceries you’d gotten. “Soonyoung!? Where are you?” You yell, giving it a second for him to respond. You’re met with silence, confusion written all over your features.

It was quite unlike Soonyoung to be missing when he knew you were coming.

You look around the kitchen, finding a warm kettle filled with tea. He must’ve just stepped out for a second.

Shaking your head, you reach for a cup on the countertop, fixing yourself a cup of tea as you wait for Soonyoung to come back from wherever he had gone. You take a sip, sighing in contentment at the warmness that floods your system.

You quickly down the rest of the cup, setting it back onto the counter as you make your way towards his bedroom in hopes of finding him.

“Soonyoung? Where are you?” An odd feeling washes over you the further you walk into his house, unable to find a single hint of where he could be. He was almost always in the living area or the kitchen when you came by.

 You knock on his bedroom door as you call out his name again; still not getting a reply back even when you slowly pry the door open.

He’s nowhere to be found, so you take a seat on top of his bed, brows furrowed. Where on earth?

You decide to lay down for a second, removing your shoes and outer clothes before resting your head on the pillow.

Surely Soonyoung wouldn’t mind, seeing as he’s not even here.

Your eyelids feel heavier than usual; yawning loudly as you get comfortable.

When you wake up, you don’t know how much time has pass or if time has passed at all.

All you know is that it’s unbearably hot.

“Wh--what…” You mumble, sitting up as you wipe the sweat from your brow. A soft moan floats out of your mouth, body filled with a certain warmth you only knew when you were thinking about Soonyoung late at night.

“What is going on…”

You clench your jaw, hiking your dress further and further up until you can run your fingertips over your clothed cunt; finding yourself already soaking through the material as it sticks to you like a second skin. “What---”

A sharp door slam knocks you out of your confusion as you hurriedly push your dress down. You hear Soonyoung yelling your name a second later, biting your lip to keep in the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth.

What was going on!?

Soonyoung comes to view as he steps into the doorway; a crimson blush on his cheeks when he finds you in his bed.

“What did you do?” He whispers, barely loud enough for you to catch it.

“S--Soonyoung…” You whimper, unable to keep your voice straight as another gush of wetness pools in your panties. “I--s--something’s weird…”

“Did---did you drink… the tea in the k-kettle…” You nod shakily, tears pooling in your eyes. “I---was I not s-supposed to?”

Soonyoung exhales harshly as he steps into the bedroom, closing it behind him as he sits across from you on the bed. “How much did you drink of it?”

“A--a cup…?”

“A whole cup?”

“Y-yeah…”

Soonyoung grimaces, “That was… an aphrodisiac. I--I used my magic to make it stronger, I didn’t think---I didn’t think it’d work…”

Fuck.

You let out a small mewl, thighs rubbing together underneath your dress. “Why were you m-making that, S-Soonyoung?”

A blush coats his cheeks, suddenly embarrassed. Why exactly?

“No reason, I just---I got curious. I wasn’t… expecting you so early so I stepped out to get more herbs from Minghao’s garden. I was supposed to have it set away before you came.”

A tense silence falls over the two of you, neither of you making a move. Soonyoung clears his voice a few moments later, “I---I might be able to undo it with a spell but I’m not sure if it’ll work. I never tried it before and---and I don’t really know how to fix this, if I’m being honest.”

This time it’s your turn to blush, desperation clear on your features when you lock eyes with the said male.

“Can---can you h-help me… Soonyoung?”

He feels his cock throb in his pants, hands balling up into fists in his lap. “I--I can’t do that to you. You don’t even see me that way and I… I’ll go through the spell books, there has to be---”

“God, please! Soonyoung, I need you! Please, I-if it’s… If it means anything to you, I--I do like you…”

He clenches his jaw, taking in your blown out pupils and flushed cheeks. “You… like me?”

“I--yes… For a while now, actually.”

“And you didn’t say anything?” He asks, fingertips itching to strip himself of his clothes. “I guess I shouldn’t pry. I didn’t say anything either, did I sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

Your heart pangs in your chest at the sudden pet name, thighs clamping together harder when his voice drops an octave. “Soonyoung, please…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

This wasn’t necessarily Soonyoung’s ideal situation when it came to telling you his feelings.

He would’ve much preferred something romantic and not you accidentally downing one of his experiments.

“Ah, Soon---Soonyoung, more, m-more!” Your hips buck up, trying to get him to go faster. He slowly flicks at your clit with his tongue, using his hands to keep your body firm against the sheets. “Stop moving, or I’ll stop, sweetheart.” A choked cry bubbles past your lips, fingers itching to lock into his soft hair. He senses your urges, lips settling into a grin when he stops to look up at you.

“Say, you’re always complaining I never show you any of my magic.” He starts, “I’ll show you something really cool.”

He mumbles words you can’t seem to catch and in an instant, you feel your arms pinned to your sides and a pressure on your hips that keeps you still. “I didn’t think I’d need to use that spell quite like this but…” Soonyoung chuckles under his breath, leaning back down as he goes back to flicking your clit with his tongue.

“But---but Soonyoung… Please… Your f-fingers…”

“Oh? Do you want me to use my fingers while I make you feel good with my tongue?” You nod, licking your chapped lips when he stares up at you from between your legs. You had to get him to do more somehow.

“Y-yeah… I--I use my fingers all the time when I’m thinking about y-you…” That should do it.

Soonyoung goes rigid, cock throbbing against the sheets underneath him. “You… what?” You whimper, struggling against the invisible spell that binds you to the bed. “Mmhmm… I’d--I’d show you but I can’t… So you have to…” He shakes his head, bringing his fingers to his mouth before he wraps his lips around them. He makes sure they’re significantly wet before he positions two at your entrance.

“You really got me there, huh, sweetheart?”

A high pitched whine falls from your lips when he starts to sink in his digits; your wetness making it easy for him to sink them knuckle deep on the first try. “Oh, god! Soonyoung!” He’s mildly shocked at how wet you are and how tight your pussy is around his fingers, but he quickly finds a pace you like as he starts thrusting his fingers inside of you. “So you think about me? What exactly do you think about?”

He curls his fingers, watching your lips part in a silent scream when he grazes against your g-spot. “Sweetheart, I asked you a question. I expect a response, okay?”

“I---s--sometimes it’s just, mmh, like---like this… With your fingers deep inside me, making me feel so g-good… But--but sometimes, ah, I--it’s me on your l-lap…” You pause, abdomen tightening with each passing second. “You’re usually really s-sweet in my imagination but…”

“But?”

“But some--ngh, sometimes you… punish me t-too… when I go through your things without your p-permission… Mmh, and---and sometimes you use your magic, just like thi--this to keep me in my place... Oh, god, Soonyoung please, I’m so close!”

He grits his teeth, thumb on your clit in an instant. “Oh? So you want me to use my magic to make you feel good? Okay.” Grinning, he focuses some of his energy into the pad of his thumb; rubbing harsh circles on the swollen nub as you cry out. 

It felt like electricity was coursing through your body, tingles going up and down your spine as you cum hard on his fingers. Soonyoung’s name rolls off of your tongue and he can’t help but watch and think how pretty you were when you were cumming.

“Cute.”

Soonyoung recites a spell in the midst of your orgasm and you feel your body go slack when the invisible restraints finally free you. He sits up, slowly pulling his fingers from inside of you and he brings them to his mouth, licking off your wetness as you watch him through teary eyes.

“Soonyoung, I’m still…”

“I know, baby.”

He repositions himself between your legs, spreading your legs wide. “If it hurts---”

You groan loudly, reaching down as you hold yourself open for him. “Soonyoung, I bet you could just slide right in with how soaking wet I am… Look at me...” He shoots you an amazed look as he freezes momentarily.

“I---what did that aphrodisiac do to you, baby?” Soonyoung wraps a hand around his cock, spreading the precum down his shaft as he positions himself at your entrance. “Seriously though, just tell me if it hurts, okay?” You nod in return; letting your arms rest at your side again.

Soonyoung slowly inches his cock into your tight cunt, a groan on his lips at how tightly you were already clenching around him. “Oh, fuck…” He whispers.

He bottoms out in a single motion, slow and steady. The head of his cock taps against your g-spot and you find yourself chasing another orgasm as he lets you get used to his size.

“Please, move!” You cry, squirming underneath him. He tsk’s you in return, leaning over as he grips your thighs. “Baby, don’t make me bind you again. You’re doing so well for me already.” He draws his hips back before thrusting in, starting a moderate pace when he notes that you’d already gotten used to him. 

“You’re so wet for me, baby. Is it the aphrodisiac or is it me?” Soonyoung jokes. Although he, too, can feel himself already on the edge just as quickly. He wouldn’t tell you now, but he thought about you quite often too.

“Maybe I should’ve taken some with you.”

“Ngh, we’d be at it like r-rabbits…”

“Wouldn’t that be fun? On a night like All Hallow’s Eve, when my powers are much stronger. Imagine how good I could make you feel then, hmm?”

You let out a sob; pussy clenched hard around his cock as you feel yourself on the brink of another orgasm. “N-no, ‘cause I---I already know I’m gon--gonna need more after this… My body’s still so h-hot…”

Soonyoung takes pity, leaning over you as he kisses your tear-stained cheek. “I’ll work you through it, baby. Don’t worry.” The two of you fall into a silence; only the sounds of your moans, his soft breaths, and the snap of his hips bouncing off of the walls of his bedroom. He can feel you get immensely tight around him as he grips your thighs a little harder.

“Oh, Soon--Soonyoung I--”

“It’s okay, baby. Go on.”

This time when you cum, the pressure feels ten times as strong as the first time. You can hear ringing in your ears as your back bows off of the bed and you can vaguely feel Soonyoung’s cock forced out of your pussy in the midst of your orgasm. Tears wet your eyelashes as you cry out his name in a jumbled fashion; body rigid against the sheets.

“Oh--shit, baby…” Soonyoung watches as you squirt all over him and the sheets underneath you; hand wrapped around his cock as he watches your face contort in pleasure. He gulps, bringing his cock back towards you as he runs it through your folds until it nudges against your overly sensitive clit. “Such a good girl for me. You’re doing so well, baby.”

He taps the head of his cock against your swollen clit, watching as your body jolts with every tap. “Soonyoung…”

“How are you feeling?” He asks, jerking himself off over your body as your hazy eyes meet his. “A little better… But…” You trail off, watching him thrust up into his own closed fist. “You look so good...” He hums in response, tightening his fist.

“I’m so close, baby…”

“Make yourself feel good too, Soonyoung… Wanna see you make a mess on me~” You spur him on; filthy words on your lips as you watch his brows furrow. “And I’m still gonna want more too~ But I wanna see you get me nice and messy first~”

He lets out a groan, cock throbbing in his hold as he cums; streaks of cum hitting your lower abdomen. “Ngh, baby…” You mewl, fingertips already running through the warm liquid as you bring it back to your mouth.

You lick off the salty substance, immediately going in for more as Soonyoung’s own fuzzy eyes focus on your movements. “What--what are you d-doing?”

“Cleaning~” You quip, popping the cum soaked fingers into your mouth as you moan.

“God, did that aphrodisiac turn you into a succubus? You’re insatiable!” He feels his eye twice as he starts to come down from his high; using his free hand to wipe the sweat from his brow.

You giggle cutely, licking your lips. “Are those even real? And for the record, maybe you shouldn’t have made the aphrodisiac in the first place for your little experiments and then maybe you shouldn’t have made it even more powerful with your spells!”

Soonyoung can only grimace in return; It kind of was his fault for leaving it unattended.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby. I promise I’ll make it up to you, okay? And no more weird experiments left out on the stovetop, I promise.”

Grinning, you lean up, ignoring the soaking mess underneath you and the cum drying on your abdomen as you push Soonyoung over until he lays on his back. He gulps as he watches you straddle his hips. 

“You’re gonna make it up to me all night though, right, Soonyoung?”

[rebellconquerer]

oooh, could we get 9 (you're in love with her) for the prompt meme. bucky and sam talking about sarah?

Here you go Anon, angst and feels. Will be crossposted to AO3. Technically a missing scene from In The Woods Somewhere, it'll be a little confusing if you haven't read that. Also it's a bit long.

Sam is worried. He’s trying very hard to hide it as he saunters down the gleaming walkway that leads to the Wakandan apartment they have set Bucky up in for his recuperation, but the fact remains that he is just a bit…worried.

The after had been worse than he expected. After Sarah had left, after Shuri had figured out the deprogramming, after they had started the process. He'll be honest, he hadn't been around much the first time. A mix of him not really knowing or trusting Bucky when this happened before (and vice versa), combined with Steve's almost obsessive need to shelter and protect Bucky then.

Still, the deprogramming had gone about as well as could be expected and Sam had remained with Buck until midway through the first week when major cities across Europe had started to be attacked by some weird environmental monsters. Hill, and then Fury himself, had reached out to say that the kid, Spiderman or whatever, had the situation under control and that they would call in reinforcements if they needed it. So Sam had stayed with Bucky for the first couple of days after the deprogramming as they were testing it to make sure it took, then some tv nutjob had leaked the kid's name.

Very few of the Avengers bothered with secret identities, but the kid was like 15 or something, so Hill had requested Captain America come help out with PR, ensuring that no one believed a teenager could be one of the Avengers.

Sam had said no initially, obviously, but Bucky had insisted he was fine and didn't need a babysitter. Had even managed to say it without that crazed, trapped animal look behind his eyes he got sometimes, so Sam had jetted off to New York for a few days. He had gotten exactly two texts from Bucky during that time. One that said 'I'm fine, mom' on day one and a thumbs-up emoji on day three.

Then Sarah had called him, trying to be all relaxed and casual as she fished for what the hell was going on in Wakanda cause Bucky hadn't spoken to her or responded to her since she left. As ancient as the dinosaurs though Buck may be, he damn well knows how to use a phone, and him deliberately cutting himself off is… concerning.

He comes to the right apartment number and knocks, then waits, then knocks again. Still no response. Sam frowns. He knows he's in there. Shuri told him they've still been monitoring his vitals and that he had requested a bit of time to himself in the aftermath, but he wasn't in the clear yet so she knew where he was.

Sam pounds on the door again.

"Buck, it's me. You gonna open up?"

Silence.

"Ok, Bucky, here's the thing, you either let me in or I'm calling Ayo or Shuri to override this lock… come on, man. Please." Sam whispers at the door, knowing Bucky's advanced hearing will pick it up.

He doesn't want to call in reinforcements and doesn't want to invade Bucky's space if it's not necessary, but as he mentioned before, he's worried.

He waits for one, then another overly long minute before the door finally opens.

Bucky looks like shit. His hair is messy and greasy. His blue eyes stand out as bright spots in the pallor of his face, broken only by the intense, almost bruise-like dark circles under his eyes. His cheekbones don't stand out as much as they did when Sam left so at least he was gaining back the weight he had lost, but he's standing with a blanket around his shoulders, hunched in and holding himself like the feral creature he hasn't been in years.

"Buck?-"

"You wanted to see me, you've seen me. Can you go now?" Bucky says flatly, eyes glinting with the acerbic 'fuck off' his lips haven't yet formed.

Oh hell no.

Sam slips his foot in the door just as Bucky goes to close it, preventing it from shutting. When Bucky pulls the door back open, Sam slips inside, pushing past Buck as quickly as he can.

Bucky growls, closing the door behind him and turning a glare on Sam.

"No please, come in. I'm definitely in the mood for visitors." Bucky says sarcastically.

Sam glances around the room. It's a lot like the first apartment they all stayed in together. Floor to ceiling windows cover one whole wall, the kitchen is immaculate, clearly unused, like most of the rest of the space, save for the couch where the cushions have been left haphazardly on the floor.

"Buck. What the hell is going on here?" Sam asks, voice coming out much softer than he intended. Bucky'd been in rough shape when he left, but he had been clearly on the mend. That was the only reason Sam'd even agreed to go help out.

"Nothing. I'm fine. I don't need you here." Bucky grits out, that muscle in his jaw flexing.

Sam stares for a minute then sighs. He's starting to get it, the lines of pain that seemed to carve through Steve whenever Bucky had pushed him away. It's hard for Sam to see the desperate way Bucky is holding himself while still pulling away, and Sam hasn't been his lifelong best friend.

"Look Buck, you're entitled to a couple bad days, but I'm going to need you to convince me that this is a par for the course breakdown and not something worse 'cause we've had a monumentally rough couple of weeks," Sam says clearly.

Bucky holds his gaze for a long moment before the harsh lines of his face seem to soften and he ducks around Sam, heading back to the couch.

"Like I told you, I'm fine." He mutters as he moves. "It's just… the come down from the deprogramming is a bitch, ok?"

Sam frowns, following him to the couch and sitting next to him.

"Would you like to elaborate, Buck?"

Bucky sighs, scrubbing both hands through his messy hair.

"Best as I understand it, it's like coming down from a high or something. There are a lot of biochemicals involved in the process and the washout… well it sucks." He shrugs. "Plus the process itself is like opening Pandora's box up here," he mutters, tapping the side of his head. "It leaves me… what I mean is it makes me-"

"Your nightmares get worse." Sam finishes for him. Bucky doesn't look up, doesn't say or do anything really.

Sam huffs. "Why didn't Shuri tell me? I expect this bullshit from you, but from her?"

Bucky goes very still, continuing to avoid eye contact. It finally clicks.

"She doesn't know, does she? You never said and… neither did Steve. That's why the two of you were hold up on that little farm for so long after. For god sake, why the hell didn't you say anything Buck?"

Sam doesn't try to hold back the frustration bleeding into his voice.

"That child has more than enough of my pain on her hands. She doesn't need any more. And I'll remind you… I never expected to have to do this again." Bucky finishes softly. Sam's anger deflates as suddenly as it started.

They sit in silence for a minute, Sam watching Bucky, Bucky pretending that Sam isn't watching him until Sam finally breaks.

"Is this why you haven't spoken to Sarah? She called me, you know, said you'd been ducking her calls."

Bucky's expression changes minutely then and if Sam hadn't known him as well as he does, if they hadn't been basically living in each other's pockets for the last year, he wouldn't have recognized it: a quick flash of guilt.

"Buck, what's going on in that head of yours?" Sam asks seriously. "Didn't I tell you if you break her heart I'd break your legs?"

Bucky huffs out a bitter laugh. "Actually the last I heard on the matter you said you'd kill me if I hurt her but we'd be ok. Way to send mixed messages by the way buddy."

Sam can't sit still any longer. This whole experience is surreal. God, he needs a vacation. He strolls over to the kitchen, filling a glass with water for himself and another for Buck. He places the second glass in front of Bucky and backs up to lean on the counter, careful not to hover.

He takes a long drink, draining half the glass in one go as Bucky just stares at his.

“How was New York?” Bucky eventually asks.

Sam shrugs. “Went okay. No one is quite ready to call Captain America a liar to his face, even that piece of shit blowhard.”

That earns him a small smile from Bucky. “You think it’ll hold?”

“Well, they’ve got Pepper, Rhodey, Hill and Fury against them. I’m not sure much could stand up to that team long term so I wouldn’t worry about it.” Sam replies. Bucky isn't going to succeed in changing the topic, but maybe going the long way around will help.

They drop back into the silence. “I think Shuri is gonna let me go in a few days. The deprogramming seems to be holding.” Bucky finally says, still staring unblinkingly at his water.

Sam sighs. “You ready to come back to Delacroix?”

Bucky makes an uncomfortable-looking face, a strange cross between constipated and in pain. “I-I was actually going to go back to New York. Haven’t been home in a while, you know,” he says carefully.

Sam frowns.

“Alright Barnes, cut the crap. My nephews have been worried about you, Sarah is worried about you. What are you thinking-”

“I’m thinking that maybe this is the time to let it… let it die.” Bucky interrupts, eyes flicking up to Sam, a hard look on his face.

Sam just stands there, gaping at him for a minute.“The fuck do you mean, let it die?”

That unearthly stillness that Bucky usually carries in his frame starts to fray. He stands up, pacing to the window. “Sarah and I had a fight the night before I agreed to let Shuri do the deprogramming,” he says, then just leaves the sentence hanging.

“Yeah, the whole goddamn world could have guessed that." Sam prompts. "You’re stubborn as hell. If she got you to reconsider it wasn’t with sweet nothings whispered into your ear.”

Sam watches the tips of Bucky’s ears go a little bit red as he ducks his head at that. He really doesn’t want to know any details about whatever memory that triggered. Bucky still doesn't continue.

“So what, are you angry with her?” Sam asks.

“What? No! Of Course not!" Bucky responds, turning to face him. He still looks weary and a little… lost.

"She said… she said she didn't think I wanted this life. That I hadn't gotten to choose it and so I was too comfortable throwing it away." Bucky mutters staring at the floor.

Sam frowns in confusion. That was harsh. Probably entirely truthful, but harsh nonetheless. And Sarah said he was tough on Buck.

"Ok…" Sam prompts again.

"She said I needed to think about what I wanted to live for. What future was worth fighting for because without that I'd always be … stuck." Bucky goes quiet again and Sam's frown deepens.

He doesn't get it. Doesn't get what Bucky is trying to tell him. "Ok, so you did that and decided that she isn't in that future?" Sam tries, keeping his voice as flat and without judgment as possible.

Bucky doesn't look at him, just keeps staring at the floor between them, the expression on his face pained. Sam watches him clench and unclench his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping. But still, Bucky says nothing.

It's Sam's turn to pace. He pushes up off the counter, walking closer to Bucky as he rubs at his temple. He's tired and stressed and he's been through too much in the last 3 weeks to play decoder with Bucky and his-

He comes to an abrupt stop beside the couch. The gears in his mind grinding to a halt so suddenly he thinks you should be able to hear them shrieking.

He turns to face Bucky, eyes tracing over the tight lines of his body as astonishment slides in under his skin, under his breastbone, and behind his eyes. How had he not seen it before? How had he not noticed?

“You’re in love with her.” he breathes out, the acknowledgement hitting like a brick. Bucky goes absolutely still as Sam stumbles back a few steps, sitting heavily on the arm of the couch.

“That’s what this is about. You’re in love with her and you’re afraid.”

“Look at me Sam, look at me?!” Bucky's voice is raspy, hollowed out. Sam lifts his gaze and meets Bucky's eyes.

“I’m a mess. On a great day, I’m a fucking mess. Most days I feel like I'm barely holding on to who I am because of what I am. On a bad day?” Bucky looks back out the windows, eyes going unfocused. “I shouldn’t be in love,” he whispers flatly. “What right do I have to get this after all the carnage I have caused. What right do I have to bring someone else into the hell that is my life.” He sighs then and leans back on the window, sliding down the glass to sit on the ground. The movement is slow, achingly so, making him look every one of his 107 years.

Sam slips from the arm of the couch coming to sit on the ground facing Bucky.

“This isn’t you Buck." He whispers. "This is the deprogramming and the night terrors. This is the lack of sleep and bone tiredness talking. This isn't you."

Bucky laughs, the sound empty. "Isn't it? Are you sure about that? Because I'm not."

"The two of you have been going great. You haven't been afraid before now, is this all fallout because of what happened, because Buck, you can't let that asshole Novikov take her from you."

Bucky lets out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the glass and staring at the ceiling, face blank. "Too good. It's been too good." He mutters and the last piece of the puzzle falls into place for Sam.

"She told you, didn't she? She told you she loves you."

Bucky's eyes flick down to his, expression sharp. "She told you what she was going to do?" Bucky asks, suspicion clear in his tone.

Sam shakes his head. "She didn't have to. You forget I've known her a lot longer than you have. I know what my sister looks like when she's in love."

He has one of those moments where he wishes Steve were there because he feels he would know what to say to help. But that's not really true. He'd watched Steve stumble through enough of these conversations to know he would be just as lost. Not that it matters. Steve's gone now. Left them both.

"It was fine when it was just you, right? When you'd be the only one risking anything? But it’s different now you know that she’s as far in as you are.” Sam mutters.

Bucky’s staring at the ceiling again, face blank. “That’s not it. I’m not afraid. I’m just seeing things clearly for the first time in a long time.” he mumbles.

Sam’s lips twist into a rueful smile. Clearly? Bucky hasn’t been this muddled in a year. “You know I almost flunked out of Pararescue training?” Sam asks, trying a different tact.

Bucky looks over at him, frowning confusedly. Sam nods slowly, looking down at his hands.

“I got referred by my prior C.O. Spent 2 days in the air over the course of the first week and decided it was not for me. I mean, it was madness, right? Jumping out of a plane with nothing on but some wings someone else had made?”

Bucky smirks. “That’s real hard to believe, Sam. You’re a natural.”

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, Riley was a natural. Took to the skies like a duck to water.” Sam can still hear the excitement in Riley’s voice after his first jump. How he could barely catch his breath to talk because all he wanted to do was laugh and grin.

“Went back to my C.O. Told him thanks for the recommendation but… I couldn’t do it. He fed me this bullshit story about how some scientist somewhere had done some experiment, right? That they gave a group of people some glasses that flipped the world upside down.” Sam looks up at Bucky to find him staring back at him, blank look retreating, intense blue eyes focussed.

“The first two days everyone was walking around bumping into things, begging to be let out of the experiment, but by the end of the third day, they had all adapted. Their world was normal again. He told me to give it three days, and I did.”

Bucky purses his lips and looks away, letting the meaning of the words sink in.“You realise you’d already been there for more than three days, right? You said it was the end of the first week.”

Sam huffs out a tired laugh. “Man, do you ever get tired of being a pain in the ass?” he asks.

Bucky slips into that small, sad smile he wears so well. “All signs point to no,” he mutters back.

“It’s been a long fucking month, Buck. I’m not saying you’re wrong or you’re right, but… just give yourself a moment to adapt to your new normal before you go making any drastic decisions.”

Bucky doesn’t respond for a while, but then he nods slowly, still refusing to look at Sam.

“And honestly, Buck, no jokes this time. Whatever happens, I’ll still be here. You don’t have to be alone.” Sam says as clearly as he can.

Bucky finally looks back over to him. “Guess Steve was right leaving me to you.”

It’s Sam’s turn to look away, laughing. “Nah. He left us to each other,” he replies easily.

“We’re probably giving the punk too much credit. Like he ever thought ahead in his whole stupid life… but… the same goes for you, you know. I’ll be here as long as you need me, for whatever that counts as.” Bucky says.

Sam looks up at him, their eyes meeting and he can’t help but smile, relaxing the tension a little. “So you love her, huh? You realise she’s just a less pretty version of me. This is tantamount to you declaring your undying love of me.”

Bucky lets out an honest to God laugh. “You ever get tired of being so in love with yourself?” he fires back.

Sam shrugs, pushing himself up off the ground and reaching a hand out for Bucky. He looks at it a moment before he grabs on and Sam pulls him to his feet, wrapping one hand around his shoulder and leading him back to the couch.

“Well honestly, someone has to be.” Sam jokes.

Bucky laughs again

[arigatouiris]

an inconvenient crush // kozume kenma x reader (2/2)

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the support! I really appreciate people coming in and telling me you liked my story! Makes me feel so loved and valid, I can’t even begin to tell you how special it makes me feel. Here’s the final part! Do let me know what you think! Thank you so much :”)

Word count: 4k+

Pairing: YouTuber! Kenma Kozume x Streamer! Reader

Summary: YouTuber Kozume Kenma has had the biggest crush on Twitch Streamer, (s/n) (y/n), who in actuality simps heavily after Kenma’s secret YouTube persona, puddinghead0.

What happens when their paths cross?

Kuroo is honestly tired of Kenma’s second-guessing, and (y/n) is a bit of a crackhead.

Warnings: unrequited love, one-sided crush, slight angst, pining, crackhead reader, internet bullying, slang, gaming references, haikyuu manga spoilers, fluff

C h a p t e r T w o: kozume in love

Kenma chuckled when he heard you scream over the controller. The both of you were currently fighting a boss named Martyr Logarius, and while you had beaten the game once, playing it in Newgame+ was extra hard. Kenma was certainly helping, but you had made a silly mistake and died for the fourth time in a row.

    "You're dodging too early," Kenma said, still chuckling, "But it is entertaining to see you dodge in such panic."

    "Shut up," You groaned over the microphone, earning more chuckles from him, "I'm trying, okay?"

    "You beat this game, you said?"

    "Ahhh!"

Kenma laughed some more, now covering his face with his hand. He could hear you laugh out of frustration as well, but while this entire orchestration felt funny to both of you, Kenma's heart bubbled dangerously. He loved the sound of your voice, and he absolutely adored the way you groaned and cursed at the bosses each time you died or each time you defeated them. You were good, and even as the game tested you, you trod on. He could see you loved gaming in its entirety, and slowly, he was learning more about you.

    "I need a beer." You sighed.

    "This game does that to you," Kenma leaned back against his bean bag, "I mean... Not to burst your bubble, but you do suck."

    "Oye," You warned playfully, "I'm a streamer."

    "Anyone can stream, (y/n)."

There was silence on the other end after that, but Kenma didn't think it was anything odd. The co-oping between you two was going on for a few days now, and it would last up to 5-7 hours at most. It was strange that despite college, you two managed to find time to sit and play, but after a point, it had become more than just the game. You began to crave his voice, crave the way he'd be there, whenever you were about to run low on health, he'd come over and give you time to heal.

Co-oping with Kenma was fun because it felt, oddly, as if he really cared.

    "(y/n)?"

    "I always thought you sounded familiar," Kenma blinked, "But I think hearing you say more words sort of... gave it away."

    "Gave what away?" Kenma's heart was pounding now.

    "Kozume-kun," He didn't want to hear the rest, "Are you puddinghead0?"

It took him several seconds to process what you said. He could practically feel his heart beat against his ears, and he could sense you getting impatient at him as well.

    "Kozume—"

    "How did you know?"

You took a few moments to answer.

    "I... I've been a fan for too long not to recognize your voice, really. I just... I guess I had to hear you through the microphone to instantly pick it up? I don't know I... Why didn't you tell me?"

    "I didn't want you to know."

    "Oh," His heart broke at how low you sounded. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't ask you because I knew you were him or anything! I asked you as Kozume—"

    "Right."

    "No, listen," You were panicking now, "I assure you, I didn't know until recently. I didn't even think... I never—"

    "What did you picture him as, (y/n)?"

    "What do you—"

    "I'm sure you pictured him as someone different, right? It must disappoint you that someone you admire is in fact, a regular college student—"

    "Don't say that! I really enjoy playing with you, and... I never even pictured how you'd look in the first place!"

    "Sure—"

    "Can we meet? Please, let me just—"

    "Not happening. It was nice playing with you, (y/n). I hope you get the platinum—"

    "Please, don't do this."

When Kenma hesitated, he knew that it was no longer an inconvenient crush. His fingers trembled and he couldn't look away from the television screen. His chest hurt and he was certain that his shirt was drenched.

    "Please, let's—"

    "Where do you want to... meet?"

    "Oh, thank goodness," Your genuine relief made him want to laugh, "I was so certain you'd hang up. Oh, thank god. Uh, I don't know. You live near campus?"

He narrowed his eyes, "What campus?"

    "Tokyo University?"

    "You go here too?"

    "Literature student! You go here? You mean to say the puddinghead0 goes to—"

    "Please, just never call me that, okay?"

    "Where do you want to meet?"

    "I... Just come to campus, we'll figure it out."

What normally took Kenma 12 minutes took him 17 now. He spent some time pacing back and forth on whether to go or not, before understanding that he couldn't back out after assuring you that he'd be there. He wondered if you would come as a fan or as his friend (were you his friend?), but the foremost thing that Kenma worried about was what your interaction with him would be about. Why did you want to meet him? What explanation did you want to give?

Maybe she wants to thank me, he thought as he walked forward, finally bucking up and realizing that he might actually need to meet you alone as himself.

He noticed that you were waiting outside the gates of the campus, airpods plugged in, head rocking lightly to some music that you were listening to. From a distance, you caught sight of him and waved almost hesitantly, shooting his heart to the skies. Your hair was tied in a messy bun and you were wearing anime merch, a Bakugou shirt with regular jeans. No matter what you wore, Kenma thought you were ridiculously pretty. Kenma had always thought you were pretty, from the very first video that you uploaded. He caught your stream in Kuroo's laptop when he had come over, and apparently it was your first time. You were hesitant and shy, but it gradually died down the more you played. Kenma found himself laughing so much that it alerted Kuroo, who had understood right away that you held a special place in Kenma's mind since no one could make Kenma laugh quite like you could.

When he was a few feet away from you, you looked at him awkwardly before he noticed you were red-faced. Is she... blushing?

    "U-Uh, yeah so uh," She was so nervous that it was making him feel weird, "I don't want to treat you differently but I just realized that I was gushing to you about puddinghead not knowing that you are, in fact, puddinghead and god, I feel like an idiot."

Kenma had to laugh at that before shaking his head, "It's fine, I don't get too many compliments anyway."

    "You had me simping all over you and you knock that down as compliments? Please teach me the art of modesty, senpai."

Kenma laughed some more before letting out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. You were taking breaths now yourself; you were standing beside someone who had literally inspired you to start streaming gameplay, and you had no idea that you were playing alongside him all this while until he had practically confirmed it not too long ago. Of course, a part of you felt weird that he never told you himself, but perhaps he wanted to keep it a secret. Also...

He had been watching your streams. Kenma had admitted that as himself the first time you had met. You could practically die.

    "There's this cafe down this road," You said, suddenly feeling a lot bolder, "We won't have to stand around awkwardly then."

    "Alright."

The walk wasn't quiet, you were desperately trying to think of something to talk about, and you were mumbling a few things here and there about Bloodborne, and he commented back; but neither of you found your heart in the conversation and kept going because you didn't know how to handle the silence. While you admired Kenma, Kenma was also aware that you had no idea the feelings he had for you.

It made him feel a bit inadequate, and he wasn't sure how to take it.

When you reached the cafe, Kenma and yourself took the seats outside. You took in his appearance properly for the first time that evening; his hair tied in a messy, loose ponytail and wearing baggy clothing with black jeans and sneakers. Kenma was gorgeous, you wouldn't deny that, especially now that your heart was bubbling with excitement over how he was your YouTube idol. Strangely, his question rang in your mind:

What did you picture him as, (y/n)?

Your eyes softened at Kenma as he checked his phone for a minute; unable to look away. You stared at him the way folks stare at a rainbow, taking in all that unexpected beauty, not wanting to look away in case it might disappear. You felt yourself blushing when he looked up to meet your gaze, almost feeling time stop. But, you were too much of an overthinker to let that happen.

I'm sure you pictured him as someone different, right? It must disappoint you that someone you admire is in fact, a regular college student—

    "Kozume-kun," What am I doing? "I can't picture anyone but you."

He was now staring at you like you were an idiot mumbling rubbish. He gulped, you could see the rise and fall of his adam's apple, but he wasn't saying a word.

    "A few months ago, when I started the channel on Twitch, I could do it only because of you. You inspired me to upload my own gameplay because I now had a platform to be proud of it. But as Kozumu-kun, you gave me the courage to not only be proud of my gameplay but to see what's actually important," You smiled as you said, "Fun."

    "You're giving me way too much credit."

You shook your head, "We don't always realize how little exchanges that we have with people cause ripple effects. Playing with you these past few days reminded me of what streaming for views made me forget. Views don't matter, the fun does. I let those comments get to me because the views mattered to me, and they still do. But, that's not everything. I learned that from you."

Kenma didn't know what to say.

    "So when you figured out that I was... the YouTuber—"

    "Puddinghead—"

    "—Yeah, that. Didn't you think I lied to you?"

You shook your head, "You never had a face reveal, which meant that you wanted to keep it a secret. So why would I feel like you lied? You had every reason to—"

    "Stop being so fucking adorable, it's actually pissing me off." Kenma snapped without realizing.

Both of your eyes widened—Kenma's and yours—at the words that exited his mouth. Your face was flaming at what he said, and Kenma probably felt like a suicidal ostrich. He wanted to bury his head under the ground and never rise, for that would keep him away from the embarrassment that was due; he could hear Kuroo's laughter in the distance, which made it all the worse.

    "I'm... I'm not trying to be cute, you know?" You said, tilting your head a little, playing with a strand of your hair.

Kenma frowned at you, wondering now if you were doing it on purpose.

    "What are you... doing?"

    "There's a word for it!" You pointed an index finger in the air, "Hanker sore."

Kenma scoffed, "What's that?"

    "It's finding someone so attractive that it pisses you off."

Kenma blushed, "Y-You're not all that attractive, you just... come across as cute sometimes."

Your eyes widened, "I'm a catch!"

He bit his lower lip, "Yeah, sure."

    "Hey! I am a total catch, you could like totally fall for me!"

Kenma's heart skipped a beat, "Yeah, sure."

While you were sitting across him having a struggle over how he easily pushed away your claims, Kenma stared at you like you were all he could see, and as if you were a sight that he would forget if he didn't drink in your details at this very second. A moment later, you gasped before leaning forward.

    "I think we should get something."

    "Let's actually... go get your platinum."

Your eyes widened, "You... don't mind?"

He shook his head now that he was absolutely certain, "No, let's go back."

You were beaming and thanking him, acting as if he suddenly wasn't the YouTuber you had been simping after, treating him like a separate individual that he was, behaving as you would with anyone else; Kenma's worries dissipated in thin air, he was now confident that he had fallen in love with you, mind, body, and soul—your voice had ensnared and captured him, and now, your revelation had done the deed of claiming his heart.

    "Oh, and," Kenma said, "No one will know."

You nodded before throwing him a mock salute, "Of course!"

*

You were legitimately freaking out. 

Kenma had followed you as puddinghead on your professional Twitter and you had been staring at the screen for close to an hour now. You weren't sure if the reason for your heart to be beating the way it was was because Kenma was puddinghead or because you had finally learned what puddinghead looked like, but whatever it was, the feeling was intense.

Are these feelings romantic though? You wouldn't lie, before you knew puddinghead's face, you had pictured meeting him and dating him—the regular daydreaming that a person would do for the person they were simping after. And while those thoughts were innocent, now puddinghead had a name. Puddinghead was Kozume Kenma, an attractive college student, CEO of Bouncing Ball Corp, and YouTuber. Your mind was taking you to places, and juxtaposing your previous fantasies now with Kenma's face. No, no, no, you scolded yourself before covering your face with your hand. Yes, discovering his identity is huge, but don't forget, he thinks of you as a friend!

You were about to join his party on the PSN and co-op Bloodborne again, but all you could think about were how long Kenma's fingers were when they were placed on the table before you that day when you met him in the cafe.

You were practically out of it.

    "Hey, Kozume-kun!"

    "You know you can call me Kenma, right? I call you (y/n)."

    "O-Oh," Your face reddened uncharacteristically. "R-Really?"

You heard Kenma chuckle and your heart was ready to combust, "Yeah, what's there to think about?"

Oh dear lord, "Okay. Uh... So..."

     "So."

     "Uh."

    "(y/n)?"

Fuck, "K-Kenma-kun."

Kenma had his hand covering his jaw at how cute you sounded, but you were practically jelly yourself. It wasn't easy learning the identity of your internet crush and having to play with them as friends. It wasn't easy to accept these facts and to admit that maybe, just maybe, the person that they are in real life was equally attractive.

    "We have to beat the Shadows of Yharnam today."

Did his voice always sound like velvet?

    "Hm, I've heard they were relatively easy?"

    "No," He said chuckling, "To you, they're definitely going to be a challenge."

When he chuckles, I feel like I'll die.

    "Didn't you play against them without co-op?"

    "Oh, yeah," You could practically picture him rubbing the back of his neck, "I did co-op for Gherman in the end, though."

Fuck, he's so cute!

    "What?" Kenma asked, sounding confused.

    "What?"

    "You said 'he's so cute', you mean Gherman?" You gasped, "(y/n), he's... he's an old man?"

    "Y-Yeah! Haha, I mean... Yeah. It's... I was..."

Kenma laughed before asking you to continue before you slapped yourself for making such a big fool out of yourself. Snap out of it, you scolded yourself once more. You can't like Kenma-kun just because you know he's puddinghead.

But, did you?

As days passed, you exchanged numbers with Kenma. Texting him was relatively easy since he barely tried to keep the conversation alive and you just had so much to say. Sometimes, Kenma believed he might be boring, but you kept texting him as if his personality wasn't really that much of a bother. He wasn't much of a texter, and you had caught on, a fact that didn't actually bother you. Kenma, however, would never leave you on read, would try to reply within the hour even though he doesn't text as often.

Your mind, however, revolved around the heart he had once sent you as puddinghead.

You were re-reading the tweets almost every night, and juxtaposing the image of an empty face with Kenma's. For some reason, puddinghead's image was slowly erasing itself from your mind; you became less fascinated with the YouTube persona, but instead, looked forward to hearing from his real-life identity, trying to know more about his day, about his other interests, and having learned that he was from Nekoma blew your mind since he was from a rival school.

Kenma and you often met at the cafe again, just to grab a few snacks and talk about games. It would be you most of the time who would be initiating conversation, and Kenma would listen and retort when he felt the need to. However, not once did you feel like he wasn't listening; not once did Kenma make you think you weren't keeping him engaged. His eyes were on you, his intense gaze enough to burn you to the ground. It practically had you shivering.

Your mind, however, still continued to revolve around the heart he had once sent you as puddinghead.

    "I might need to go to a volleyball game soon—"

    "Why did you send me a heart?"

Kenma froze before meeting your gaze. "What?"

You almost wanted to slap yourself but you had said it. You couldn't hold it back, you couldn't keep mulling over your thoughts and therefore, you decided to tell the source of your problems what your problems were.

    "Kenma-kun, I... I had a big crush on puddinghead," Kenma's gaze on you was unwavering, "Now that I know you're puddinghead, and... and you were the one who sent me a heart, I... I've always thought you were cute and all—"

    "(y/n)—"

    "—and it's a bit unfair if I like you only because you're puddinghead, but I gave it a lot of thought—"

    "—(y/n), listen—"

    "—and I don't want you thinking that my feelings are just because you're a famous YouTuber and I just want to like... I don't know... I enjoy every second with you and slowly I just—"

Kenma's finger tapped your forehead, freezing you in position. His cat-like eyes were boring into your soul, and there he was, face inches away from yours, expressionlessly staring into you.

    "I've been in love with you for the longest time," Kenma's voice was gold, "No pressure, though."

    "No..." What the fuck? "N-No pressure?!"

Kenma laughed at your outburst, "Yeah, I mean... I took sometime accepting it, to even think that I liked you over the internet didn't make sense to me. And then we bumped into each other and we started gaming together and I guess I understood that your internet persona was just a part of you I'd liked, and now I like you more."

Oh.

Was it really that simple?

    "So... If I liked you as puddinghead—"

    "Please don't call me that."

    "—and if I like you as Kenma-kun, then..."

Kenma sighed before offering you a sweet smile, "It's probably the same thing, (y/n). Stop worrying."

    "Can I kiss you?" You blurted out, without thought.

God, this woman, Kenma thought, before covering his jaw with his hand.

*

In less than a week, you'd learned the route to Kenma's apartment by heart. You went over to game at his place, and slowly began streaming as (y/n) again on Twitch. You didn't want to stream with Kenma yet, because you guys had just started dating a month ago. For liking you longer than you liked him, Kenma was relatively cool about you hanging over at his, and about initiating any sort of touch—because your thoughts were practically spilling out of you and as cute as he once thought they were, he didn't want you to say 'pinch me' every time he kissed you.

Kenma's hands were buried into your hair as he kissed you fervently, softly at first before pulling back to see how flushed your face was. He'd never really imagined you being here, out of the screen he saw you from, in his arms, kissing him back.

He chuckled at the thought.

    "What's so funny?" You were legitimately a crackhead, but he adored you.

    "I thought having a crush on you was very inconvenient at first."

    "Why?"

He shrugged before pulling you to his chest, your face reddening at the contact. He noticed, but simply shook his head as you buried your face into his chest.

    "Because I thought it was too good to be true."

    "Am I the one freaking out each time or are you?"

    "Yeah, that part even I don't get."

You giggled before wrapping your hands around his neck, bringing yourself closer to him. Your face was at the crook of his neck, eyes closed as his arms were wrapped around your waist. You were both currently on Kenma's couch, nuzzling with each other on a lazy class-less Monday.

Suddenly, the door opened, revealing Kenma's roommate, in all honesty, did not know how to react when a famous Twitch streamer was lying asleep on his roommate. Kenma gave him a nonchalant look before placing a finger on his lips.

    "She's asleep."

    "Y-Yeah, that's definitely what I was thinking." The roommate said before rushing to his room and locking the door.

Well, Kenma thought before bringing his hand back around your waist, That's a problem for another day.

[plaidbooks]

I love your work! Could you do one where the reader and sonny or Barba have been in a long term relationship and he finds out she has a stalker when he receives an envelope with pictures of her/them inside? thanks! 💕

Love Hurts

A/N: Hey anon! First off, I loved this prompt, and I hope I did it justice! I went with Sonny Carisi x reader, and when he was still a detective--I hope that’s ok!

Tags: stalking, knives, guns, panic/stressful situations

Words: 1k+

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @mrsrafaelbarba @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner

I got a surprise for you for dinner

You read the text from Sonny again, a small smile tugging at your lips. He’d been working a lot recently, and the thought of him home for dinner was exciting, “surprise” or not. You shot him back a message:

When are you coming home?

He responded almost instantly:

A couple more hours, then I’m all yours

You felt heat rise to your cheeks from the thought alone. It had been too long since you’d spent a proper evening together, and the thought of his long fingers on you, his lips against yours made a wave of arousal flood through you. Suddenly, there was a hard knock on your front door, startling you. You almost dropped your phone in your surprise, wondering who it could be—you weren’t expecting anyone—and then you remembered Sonny’s text. Smiling at your boyfriend’s “surprise,” you moved to the front door, but before you could reach it, your phone rang, Sonny’s name and face flashing across the screen. Confused at what he was playing at, you looked from the door to the phone before answering.

“Yeah, I’m coming to the door right now,” you smiled into the phone.

“[Y/N]! Do not answer the door! Lock yourself in the bathroom and stay there until I get home, do you understand me?” Sonny’s voice was panicked, coming out in a rush. It took you a moment to understand what he was saying, and when you did, your blood ran cold. You froze, hand outstretched to the lock. The pounding on the door had stopped, but now it sounded like whoever was out there was throwing their whole body against the door. You backed away, terrified that the door would give at any moment, silently thankful that Sonny had replaced the screws with thicker, longer, stronger ones. You turned and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a long cutting knife, and heading to the bathroom, locking yourself in and crouching in the shower, shaking slightly and holding your phone to your chest.

 ****************************

Sonny was excited to be getting off work at a decent hour; a rare occurrence indeed. He was going to pick up some expensive steaks and cook the most perfect meal for you tonight, to make up for all the overtime he’d been working. But right now, he was stuck in a car with Fin, texting you and trying to forget about the slimy suspect they had just finished interviewing.

He was still smiling at his phone when they made it back to SVU…at least, until he had made it to his desk. Slid into his stack of paperwork was a manilla envelop that was definitely not there before. Grabbing it and carefully pulling it from the stack, he turned it over in his hands, examining it. There were no words on it, no stamp, no nothing, yet it was sealed.

“Whatcha got there?” Rollins asked, glancing up at him.

He furrowed his brow at the envelop. “No clue.” Taking his letter opener, he cut the end of it open, pouring its contents onto his desk. His heart sank as he saw pictures of himself and you—mostly you—staring back at him. Pictures of you and him coming out of a café, of you both walking in the park, his arm around your shoulders, pictures of just you at the grocery store, of you on the phone, of you in your apartment, taken through the living room window. In every picture with Sonny in it, too, whoever had taken the pictures had crossed Sonny out with a red marker, drawing hearts around your head.

With shaking hands, Sonny took his phone out of his pocket, calling you. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he muttered as it rang. Once connected, he could hear your voice, but more importantly, he could hear someone pounding on the front door. “[Y/N]! Do not answer the door! Lock yourself in the bathroom and stay there until I get home, do you understand me?”

Once he hung up, he was a flurry of motion, grabbing his jacket, making sure his gun was on his hip, and heading towards the door as the other detectives were asking what was wrong. Even Liv came out of her office to see what the commotion was about. But it only took one look at the array of pictures on his desk before they were gearing up, following him out the door and to your shared apartment.

 *********************************

You were still crouched in the shower, your legs cramped, when you heard the front door open. Even though the pounding against the door had stopped a while ago, you still held your breath. Your trembling resumed, and you tensed as the footsteps got closer to the bathroom. You could feel a scream bubbling up in your throat, and you struggled to stay quiet, tears slowly spilling over and down your cheeks. There was a knock on the bathroom door, and you whimpered.

“[Y/N]? Are you in there? It’s me,” came Sonny’s voice.

You let out a choked sob as you struggled to your feet, your legs burning from the uncomfortable position. Holding the knife in front of you, you unlocked the door, cracking it open to see Sonny standing there, looking worried. Seeing him, you dropped the knife, flinging your arms around his middle and burying your head against his chest, the tears really falling now. He hugged you tightly to him, his hand stroking your hair.

“S-Sonny, what the fuck?” you choked out, trying to control your breathing, regain some sort of composure.

He held you at arm’s length, looking into your face, making sure you were alright. “You got a stalker, babe. They—they left pictures of you, of us, on my desk,” he explained.

“Is [Y/N] okay?” a woman’s voice called from the living room. You recognized the voice as Sonny’s boss, Lieutenant Benson.

You followed Sonny out of the doorway to the bathroom to find the Lieutenant in your living room, gazing out the window there, across to the next building, before pulling the blinds and then the curtains closed. “Fin and Rollins are getting the security footage from the manager,” she told Sonny. “I’ll put an unmarked outside your building tonight, but Carisi, you can’t be on this case.”

Sonny scoffed. “Are you kidding me? This is my girlfriend they’re after! You’re damn straight I’m on this case—”

“No, you’re not. You’re too close; it’s too personal,”—Sonny opened his mouth to argue more, but Olivia put her hand up—“what you’re going to do is stay here, with [Y/N]. We’ll update you when we have information.”

You could tell that Sonny wasn’t happy being sidelined, but he also didn’t want to leave your side, not after they had tried to break down your door. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “Fine…fine,” he conceded.

 ***************************

You were sitting on the couch, your legs tucked up underneath you, your head on Sonny’s chest as you curled into his side. His hand was stroking up and down your back absentmindedly. The TV was on, but neither of you were watching, your thoughts anywhere but on whatever station was on when Sonny had clicked it on.

“You’re sure no one’s been looking at you weird? Following you around?” Sonny asked again, his voice echoing in his chest because your ear was pressed against it, the vibrations tickling your cheek.

You closed your eyes, trying to think back on your week, trying to think of every interaction you had. “Not that I can think of,” you sighed.

He nodded, his mind working. You knew he was worried that it was somehow work-related, that this was his fault. But you weren’t connected to that side of his life, and since the pictures seemed focused on you, it seemed unlikely that it was someone from Sonny’s world.

Suddenly, there was a pounding on the front door. You jumped, startled, as Sonny launched to his feet, his gun instantly in his hand as he slowly picked his way to the door. You could both hear footsteps go down the hall, and Sonny holstered his gun, throwing the door open and bolting after whoever it was, screaming “freeze, NYPD!” as he went.

You had left the knife on the end table by the couch—even thought it had felt silly with Sonny there—and grabbed the handle, gripping it tightly as you made your way towards the open door. But you froze when a figure stepped into the doorframe, coming from the opposite direction from where Sonny just ran. Looking into his face, he didn’t look familiar at all; just a face in the crowd. You took a step back as you noticed the machete in his hand.

“Oh, don’t look so scared, [Y/N]…now that that cop is gone, we can have some alone time,” he whispered, a disturbing smile stretching across his face.

 *****************************

Sonny caught up easily with the person running down the hallway. They had made it down only one flight of stairs before Sonny had pinned them up against the wall, a forearm across their chest.

“What do you want with [Y/N]?” he asked, panting.

The guy seemed terrified. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about. Some dude gave me 20 bucks to go hit a door, man.”

Sonny stood back, confused. Now that he looked at the man—and smelled him—he realized that this was a homeless guy…a distraction. Stomach dropping, he turned and leapt back up the stairs, ripping the door open and sprinting as fast as his legs could carry back to your apartment, back to you.

 ****************************

You had made it to the bedroom, barely closing and locking the door before the man had slammed against it. Unlike with the front door, Sonny hadn’t reenforced this door against breaking and entering, and you were waiting for the man to come barreling through at any moment. The door made an impressive creaking noise as he hit the door again.

“Come on out, [Y/N]…I love you, so, so much baby,” he called through the door. There was silence for a moment before his body slammed against the door again, the doorjamb splintering as it broke, the door flying open. You screamed as you fell back onto the bed, your pitiful kitchen knife held in front of you while the man stalked into the room, machete raised.

A gunshot rang out, cutting your shriek off, dark red quickly staining the front of the man’s shirt before he fell forward, body limp. Sonny was standing in the doorway, his gun still aimed at man’s corpse, his chest heaving, eyes wild. He looked at you, holstering his gun and gesturing for you to come to him. You jumped off the bed, running to Sonny’s outstretched arms. This time, the tears didn’t come—you just clutched Sonny’s shirt in shock, shaking violently.

“You’re okay, you’re safe,” he murmured over and over again. He took out his phone and called Olivia, telling her to bring CSU, but you tuned it all out, your eyes focused only on the corpse in your bedroom. Perhaps sensing this, Sonny tugged you out of the room, back to the living room.

“Who was he?” he asked you, voice low.

You were still staring at the broken door to the bedroom, unable to look away. “I…I don’t know…. He said he loved me.” And then the tears did come. Sonny brought your head to his chest, letting you cry into him as he rubbed your back soothingly, telling you to let it all out, and that everything’s going to be okay now. He held you like that until Olivia arrived with CSU.

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

characters:

Y/N Beck as Jenna Hunterson

Bucky Barnes as Dr. Pomatter

Wanda Maximoff as Dawn

Natasha Romanoff as Becky

Sam Wilson as Cal

Steve Rogers as Ogie

Nick Fury as Joe

Quentin Beck as Earl Hunterson

Maria Hill as Nurse Norma

a/n: some of the dialogue I got straight from the play/songs to preserve the witty essence of Waitress, but keep in mind this is an au, so I will change things up regarding the storyline and ending. Enjoy!

p.s. let me know if you wanna be tagged c:

p.s. ii this chapter is merely introductory so we won’t get to meet Bucky just yet but he’s coming soon, I promise!

prologue: what’s inside?

My hands pluck the things I know that I need. Peaches, creme fraiche, brown sugar, butter and of course, flour. Today’s a simple one. What should I call it? “Simplicity is key pie”. Nope. Might get confused with “Love’s the key lime pie”. “Some things never change pie”. Yup. That’s it.

“Y/N! What’s the special pie today?” Sam yells at me like every other morning. I don’t complain, I like that grumpy weirdo though I would never admit that to his face. I tell him the name of my newest recipe.

 “I was having a creative block, you see. But then it struck me! Peaches! PEACHES, SAM!!!” I throw my hands in the air.

“No, I get it. Kinda.” He ignores my excitement but I know he actually understands how peaches are nobody’s favorite,but they’re good, they’re simple and they offer everydayness. Sam and I were in High School together and we both wanted to go to culinary school, so I know he gets me.  Neither of us got to make it though, somehow we  ended up here. Working at Nick’s Pies in the same town we grew up in, a town where nothing ever happens.

Nick is already at his table, that’s odd. He’s never here this early. Maybe he’s been watching spy movies late at night again. That “old fart” (Nat’s words, not mine) is adorable if you ask me, even if he gets on everybody’s nerves. Wanda’s cleaning the counter, menus and sugar dispensers. Thoroughly cleaning them. And Nat’s late. As always.

I like working here. These people are like family to me. The only one I have left. Oh, except for Quentin, my husband. I’ve been thinking about how he used to be, you know, when we first fell in love. Things have changed over the years. But it’s all fine. I have it good. Better than my mom at least. And I’m grateful for Quentin, I really am. I just wish he would be more, I don’t know, empathetic? Anyway. I have a weird feeling today. As if things were about to change. Let’s hope it will be for the better.

-

chapter 1: the negative

warning: vomit

Peeling peaches isn’t my favorite part of the pie making process, that’s for sure. I’ve always loved the smell of them, so why are they making me sick now?.

“Someone’s a little fussy today”. Nat says after noticing my state of distress. “Do you need any help, sweetie?” She rounds the table and snatches the peeler from me. “Seriously though, you look pale”.

“I’m fine, Nat. Thank you, but I think I just need some air. I’ll go take Nick’s order”. I walk across to old Nick’s table and he puts his paper down.

“Oh hi, I was wondering when somebody would offer me at least a cup of coffee here. It’s hot, isn’t it? My diner. My own diner doesn’t have any decent air conditioning!” Oh, here we go.

“Sorry, Nick. I’ll tell Sam to fix it, I promise. What can I give you?”

“Well, let’s see. I would like an omelette, with tomato on the side and some fruit salad, on a different plate. And some orange juice. But bring me coffee before you bring the orange juice. And a slice of your… “Some things never change pie”, but bring that after I’m done with my omelette”. It is hot here, he was right. “Oh and also… Jesus, are you okay? You look pale”. 

“I’m okay, Nick”. Oh god. “I think I just… need to…  restroom”. I almost collapse with Wanda on the way to the ladies room and throw my arms around the toilet in the span of ten seconds.

“Y/N! Honey, you okay in there?” I hear Wanda’s voice, or was it Nat’s. Oh here it comes again. “Gosh, I’m washing this stall right after she’s done, we don’t want any patrons catching whatever she’s got”. Wanda. Definitely Wanda.

“Oh scoot! She doesn’t need you being a neat freak right now, Wanda”. Mother Nat scolding the children. 

“I’m okay girls, I may have had a bad sandwich from the gas station last night. That’s it” I wash my hands and mouth over the sink while the girls fuss around me. “Really, everything’s… oh shit”... and here it comes again. I don’t even know if I have anything left inside that actually needs to come out.

Wanda rubs my back gently and says “Honey? Um, when was the last time you got your period?” After I’m done emptying my guts I do the math. “Shit. No, this can’t be happening.” I can feel my heart in my throat. I’m not ready for this. I can’t be.

“Y/N, time to pee on a stick!” Nat helps me up and calls Peter, the diner’s delivery guy. “Okay, Parker, time to be the hero. I need you to go to the drug store and buy a pregnancy test. Here’s twenty bucks, keep the change and don’t tell a soul about this or I’ll have your head, ya hear me?”

-

Two lines. Two pink stupid lines and I’m out of my body. I’m packing my things and going on a plane far from the diner, far from Quentin Beck and his beer smelling, curse yelling, guitar playing ass!

“I thought you don’t sleep with your husband much anymore”. Wanda is brushing my hair with her fingers.

“Stop it, I think she’s in shock”. Nat is washing the test stick. God bless her, she thinks I want to keep it. I shudder, still a little dizzy.

“Shut up, I’m inventing a new pie in my head. Tomorrow’s special. I’ll call it “I don’t want Quentin’s baby pie”. I take my little notebook out of my apron and start writing ingredients down.

 “I don’t think we can put that on the menu board, Y/N”. 

“You could still leave Quentin, you know? If you can bake 27 different kinds of pies every day, you can do it.”

“You’re funny, Nat.  I don’t want a baby right now, but above all, I don’t want a fatherless baby. Girls, I can’t do this on my own. And please don’t tell Sam or Nick yet”. They both grab my arms and Wanda leans on my shoulder.

“Hey, we ain’t saying a word to anyone but we’ve talked about this. Quentin isn’t a good husband, you know that. You think he’ll be a good father?”

“You could come and live with me! It’s a studio but-” I cut Wanda off.

“Okay, girls, enough. Nat, I know he’s difficult sometimes but he’s going through a rough time, he’s in between jobs and I couldn’t do that to him. And Wands, you’re very sweet, but thank you. I’ll figure it out”.

-

chapter 2: what baking can do

-

I already have chapters 2-4 written, so expect them soon. Thoughts?

[boyy-wonder-grayson]

Forever Yours

Summary: Dick and reader had a bad break up but things work out at the end.

Request: yes, thanks to @wintercapilson​ !!

Pairings: Dick Grayson x Reader

Warnings: lil angst but nothing bad, swearing and fluff.

Word count: 1807

A/n:hopefully this is as good as i think it is lmao. I really really liked the way this turned out! so feedback and rb’s are always welcomed :)

Based on prompts from this list!

*pics mine*

51. “He’s no good for you”

57. "Days without you are my reminder that there's something wrong"

58." I'm forever yours whether you have me or not"

-----

Dick watched as you laughed at something Brad said. He scoffed thinking what could have been so funny that had you laughing that hard. He drowned the rest of his whiskey before asking the bartender for a refill; he knew he was staring too much, but it was impossible for him to look away when you were having a good time in someone else's arms. He knew he shouldn't be upset about it, after all it was his fault that you two were no longer together, and boy he regretted that every single day.

"You're staring" Donna said sitting in the stool next to his best friend. She asked for another beer while awaiting Dick's answer. She thanked the bartender and took a sip of the beer while rolling her eyes. "You know, it's getting kind of creepy."

"Shut up" Dick said not tearing his gaze from the happy -disgusting- couple. 

"You do know she still loves you right? But at least she had the guts so move on, unlike someone else" Donna mumbled the last part but loud enough for him to hear.

"Look, Donna. I love you, you're my best friend,but shut up.i know I fucked up okay? I know" Dick said drinking the whiskey, liking the burning sensation the liquid left on his throat. "And I know i don't deserve her, or her forgiveness. But seriously, that guy?" He asked looking back at how Brad. 

"You really are stupid aren't you?" Donna asked in a serious tone.

Dick looked back at her not understanding what she's trying to convey.

"Jesus Christ, I mean what can I expect you're a man after all" she mocked him "do you really think that Y/n Is not waiting for you to make another move? Yes, she's with Brad now but it's because you're not with her! She loves you and even though you screw your chances with her, she's still waiting for you to come back. How blind you have to be not to see that?" Donna got up and went back to the group of friends that, unlike Dick, was actually having a good time.

Dick was astonished to hear her friend say that. He actually thought that after what he did, Y/n would hate him. But hearing Donna say that gave him hope. He couldn't stand seeing the girl he loved being touched and loved by someone else. He needed to do something. All the alcohol he consumed was not helping him think straight so instead of waiting to sober up a little he went looking for his girl.

Y/n was glued to Brad's side when Dick approached the group stumbling his way to the group, bumping into anyone that stood on his way to get you. When he finally reached the table he smile at Y/n which looked at him with confusion in her eyes.

"Heyy Y/n can I talk to you?" He slurred his words a little bit "in private" he added the last part quickly.

"Umm, sure" the girl said getting out of Brad's grip and followed the dark haired boy outside. 

She rubbed her arms trying to preserve the heat from leaving her body, but San Francisco nights were cold as ice. They stood outside for a few minutes in silence before Dick spat the words to her.

"He's no good for you,you know?"

"What?" Y/n asked unsure of what he had said.

"Bryan, he's not good for you. You deserve better" he said not looking at her.

"It's Brad, and what do you know what's good for me?" Y/n scoffed. She was tired of Dick's entitlement.

"Because I know you Y/n! And I know you'd never go for someone like Brad" Dick answered quickly. "I know you're only doing this to make me jealous!" 

Y/n laughed bitterly, trying to control herself, she really wanted to punch Dick, "Wow, so everything is always about you Grayson huh?" 

"That's not what I meant" the boy tried to get closer to her buck she took a step back instead getting away from him.

"No, that's exactly what you mean. Drunk minds speak sober thoughts and all that bullshit right?" Y/n turned around to go back inside the bar, she stopped in her tracks without looking at Dick "Go home Dick, get some sleep and then maybe we can talk."

Dick cursed under his breath, tugging at his hair. He knew he screw up yet another opportunity to talk with you about what happened; the alcohol running through his veins evaporated when he saw the look on your face after he said those words to you. He sobered up immediately and even though you didn't shut him down completely,he still feel so stupid for trying to get you back while intoxicated. He was going to have to wait till tomorrow when, hopefully, his head would be in the right place.

---

Dick woke up when he hear Donna's - loud - voice; he groaned in response and hissed when the light hit his half open eyes. 

"Rise and shine sweetheart" Donna said in a sing-song voice. "Ready to fuck things up again with Y/n? Or did you manage to grow some balls overnight that would help you talk to her,you know, like a normal person?" She said smirking at the hungover boy.

"Fuck off" he said grabbing a pillow and hiding his face on it, only for the object to be taken away by none other than his best friend.

"Oh I will fuck off, when you go and apologize to her. Seriously what were you thinking Dick? As if things weren't bad enough you managed to make them even worst" she said sitting next to him.

"I know okay, I will talk to her. Just...give me some time" he replied rubbing his throbbing temple.

"Not gonna happen. You're going to take a shower, have some coffee and you gonna get your ass in line and go talk to her, you hear me? I'm sick and tired of seeing you mope around because you're 'oh so sad because you can't be with her'.

You need to go and fix this, now."

Donna was right and Dick knew this, but he was afraid that you may not be willing to give a relationship another shot, and that terrified him.

He followed his friends advice and within an hour he was ready,and determined to get you back.

---

Ever since her and Dick broke up, Y/n decided that it was best to get her own place. Living in the tower was easy and y/n really enjoyed it,but waking up every day to see your ex boyfriend was not something she looked forward too. 

So she decided to look for a place not too far from the tower in case of an emergency. 

She cleaning some dishes that were in the sink from the night before when she heard a knock on the door. She wiped her hands with a towel and went to open the door. When she saw it was Dick she moved aside so he could get inside and sighed preparing herself for yet another argument.

"I'm sorry" he said first not wanting to beat around the bush any longer. "I was drunk last night and I know that's not an excuse for what I said but I'm really sorry Y/n"

The girl looked at his appearance and noticed the bags under his eyes and how dull his eyes were;it was weird seeing him so defeated, she hated to see him like this.

"I know Dick, but we've been having this type of conversation for weeks now. And I- I'm just tired of it ending in a fight where one of us always gets hurt" she said looking down, finding the rug under her feet quite interesting.

Dick took a step forward and when she didn't backed away, he smiled a little.

"Look at me" he said softly, lifting her face with a finger under her chin, looking over at her glossy eyes. "You deserved better than this, than me" he said.

"Don't you think I have some say in that?" She asked him grabbing his hand and caressing it with her thumb. "I know you want the best for me now and back then too,but you were, you are what's best for me Dick. I know it" 

Dick realized he was crying when he wiped the tears with her fingers. He wasn't really the type to cry, but he felt so vulnerable under her gaze. 

"I miss you, so much. And all those days without you were my reminder that there was something wrong" he said pulling her closer to his body so she could rest her head in his chest. 

They stood there embracing each other, reminiscing about when they were in the exact same position but in a different situation, a much happier one.

"I love you Y/n. I have loved you ever since you set a foot in the tower. From the first time I have loved you and it scares the shit out of me how much you mean to me. I know I was unfair to leave you without explaining the reason, but I just couldn't keep lying to myself, so I needed to let you go, because alone was safer than with you. I needed to keep you away from me so I could keep you safe, and i know it's a bullshit reasoning but I have never loved anyone as much I love you. But I promise I'll be better if you take me again. I'm forever yours, whether you have me or not"

Y/n didn't answer instead she just hugged him. She was crying too. When she pulled away to dry her puffy eyes she smiled at the brown haired boy in front of her.

 "I love you too Dick, so much" she bit her lip "i- i also told Brad that we would have never worked out" she said laughing a little "it was unfair for him to keep leading him on when I knew it was not going to work, so I won't be seeing him again."

"I'm sorry It didn't work" he said with honesty.

"No, you're not" she laughed a little louder this time making him laugh too.

"You're right" he looked down biting his lip not wanting to ruin the moment.

"So...do you think we could try again?"

Y/n smiled sweetly at the boy and brought a hand up to caress his face, dick leaned into her touch.

"I think we can,yes. But I'm gonna need some time,okay?" 

"As much as you need" he said quickly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Good, cause neither am I"

[elsanna-shenanigans]

June Contest Submission #12: Boom Boom Pow

Words: ca. 3,300 Setting: mAU Lemon: lime CW: sand, alcohol, beanbags, dash of lime, language

“Do you like the stars?”

“Anna it’s fucking noon, the sun is up, it’s bright as shit. Why are you asking about stars?”

“Yo, my dude, chill. The sun is a star… right?”

Elsa rolled her eyes and turned up the radio, blasting 80’s music, but only the good songs. “I don’t know why I agree to come with you on these things.”

At this Anna laughed and danced a bit offbeat to the song that was playing. She didn’t know the lyrics, but the bass line was nice and she could vibe with that. She let the whole song play out before answering.

“Because you loooove me” She sing-songed, earning another eye roll from the driver. “You love me and we’re going to the beach and it’s going to be a good time.”

“If I didn’t love you, would it still be a good time?” Elsa asked, smirking.

As a response, Anna reached over and changed the radio. A loud, bass-heavy rap song overtook the speakers. The signer immediately spitting out questionably appropriate lyrics for the radio. Elsa’s face reddened under her large glasses and she reached to change channels so quickly that she turned it off. Enveloping the small sedan in a brief silence till Anna’s laughter filled the space.

And it went on like this the entire car ride, bits and pieces of random songs rapidly changing. Anna would allow something Elsa liked to play out entirely but when it was her turn she either skipped around or Elsa changed the station for her. The older woman apparently hated both rap and country music. The first part Anna didn’t understand and the latter, she agreed with. She was desperately trying to find a gospel station, just to see her sister’s reaction, but she found nothing but commercials.

Finally, she heard what she was looking for and turned to see Elsa’s reaction just as the other girl reached over and turned the radio off again. Anna was going to protest when she realized they were in a drive-thru.

“What can I get started for you today?” a tired-sounding voice asked over the intercom.

Anna leaned over Elsa to get closer to the open window and thus the speaker box. Making sure to be just close enough to be annoying.

“We would like to get married please, with Elvis if you have him, if not we’ll take what you have.”

“Anna!” Elsa exclaimed, slapping her on the shoulder.

There was an audible sigh come over the loudspeaker, “Ma’am this is a Wendy’s.”

“Oh right, then I’ll take a cheeseburger and a medium Coke, no ice. Thank you!”

“Anything else?” the tired voice asked. “I’ll have the same thing.”

They continued driving towards the beach after the drive-thru. Cupholders full of sodas in flimsy paper cups, and Anna’s lap full of white paper bags of greasy food. She kept sneaking a fry when she thought Elsa wasn’t looking. But it was a small car and Elsa could see every bit of fried potato Anna took.

The closer they got to the beach, the darker the sky became. Tall looming clouds crept over the horizon. They couldn’t see the beach yet as it was the east coast, and most roads took you to the beach straight on instead of winding down cliff faces like the Pacific was famous for. But still, the clouds loomed. Elsa knew there was a storm somewhere off the coast, but it seemed far away last she checked, which wasn’t today. She refused to check the weather today for fear of bad news.

On the main highway, traffic was starting to get heavy, more tourists were headed for their long-awaited vacations and the road ahead was either congested to the point of slowing down. Or there was an accident and everyone had to slow to a crawl to creep a glance at the carnage.

Thankfully the girls weren’t tourists, unthankfully they lived close to this tiny town that became a major city in the summer months. Having to deal with millions of tourists every year meant that locals had a series of short-cuts. So when traffic started building, Elsa took the next exit rather suddenly, cutting across the solid white lines and nearly missing the crash barrier.

“Elsa! Shit! What the fuck!” Anna yelled and shot out her hands with nearly inhuman speed to catch the drinks before they spilled out of their too-small cupholders. “There’s a backup, I’m not sitting in that,” Elsa replied, taking the next turn so hard that the car nearly tilted on two wheels.

“But I saw flashing lights, it could have been a firetruck!”

“It could have been a police car…”

“But Elsa you don’t understand, the hot firemen! …and women.”

“Anna I’m not sitting in traffic for 30 minutes or even longer, just for you to ogle at people in uniform.”

Anna took another fry, “Not people in uniform, F-I-R-E-M-E-N and women. It is very different.”

Elsa let out a heavy sigh as they came to a stop at a red light. “If I buy you that stupid Australian calendar will you shut up?”

“Wow, harsh.” Anna dramatically threw one braid over her shoulder. “But, yes.”

Again, Elsa rolled her eyes and continued forward when the light changed. It was only a short while later that they left the main road and turned into a small, older housing development. The narrow street lead them all the way to the ocean, coming out on the far end of the main strip. Highrise condos and hotels dotted the skyline to their left, but right in front of them was the beach, concealed behind a short sand dune. Because life is a bitch like that sometimes.

Luckily for them, there was also free parking at this end if you didn’t mind a bit of a walk. Which, for the price of 17 bucks to park next to the beach, who wouldn’t mind the walk. 17 dollars could buy many cheeseburgers, Anna pointed out.

The beach wasn’t nearly as crowded down where they were, away from the boardwalk and the hotels. The sand also happened to be rockier, rough and pitted with long-forgotten footprints and broken shells. The beach groomers didn’t come this far. Which was fine by them, they would take a rough sandy beach with fewer people over a crowded hellscape any day.

There’s nothing more relaxing than simultaneously listening to eight different speakers all playing different music. While children screamed for no reason and the air was filled with a mix of sunscreen and cigarette smoke.

So yes they will miss out on the hot lifeguards and yes there will be fewer people to watch. But you can’t put a price on the quiet and the fresh air that this section of the beach had to offer.

After crossing the highway on foot, climbing the dune, and laying out their towels, only then did they pause to look out on the water. The ocean was angry, white caps dotted the surface as far as they could see. The horizon line was blurred with fog or rain and the dark clouds from before were more ominous than ever. Why the two women didn’t notice all these signs until now was some kind of act of God. Or stupidly. Probably the latter.

The beach itself was even more sparsely populated than normal. A smart person would have gone home after seeing all the warning signs. But this was Anna’s only day off for the next few weeks. And Elsa, well Elsa was too stubborn to admit her beach idea was a bad one.

They both laid down, on separate towels, choosing to ignore the warning signs and attempting to soak up as much sun as possible before it was swallowed by the coming storm. Elsa tried not to think about it too much. Neither was sure how long it had been before they were interpreted.

“What are you two gay ass losers doing?” Came a female voice.

“Ch’yeah it’s like gonna rain bruh.” Said a male’s.

Elsa opened one eye to see her cousin and her boyfriend, or so it fiancé now? Standing over them. The sky beyond them somehow looked even darker than before, which was very rude.

“Trying to enjoy the sunshine, obviously.” She mumbled in response.

“What sun?” their cousin asked, in a weird out of place, and badly performed accent.

“Wait but what is that voice?” Anna asked, sitting up and brushing the sand off her arms. How that girl could get sand everywhere, Elsa would never know.

“It’s like our new characters,” Eugene answered, earning not an eye roll from Rapunzel but a nod of approval.

“I’m New York and he’s Los Angeles. Both strong and independent cities that you could almost say are their own character. And those characters are us.” She added

“Why though?” Elsa was also now sitting up and confused, though nowhere near as sandy because she wasn’t a dirt gremlin-like her sister.

“Because we wanted to be unique characters, otherwise we’re just boring white people and where’s the fun in that?” Eugene or rather Los Angeles answered.

“Oh boring, like you watch Star Trek and try to fit it into everything even though it has no business being there?”

Eugene shot Anna finger guns, “exactly, this one gets it… bruh.”

A boom was heard in the distance and it sent a few people running towards their cars, towels billowing behind them. A long-distance away, over the water, there was a flash and with it, the wind picked up.

“Looks like our beach day is ruined, I’m sorry Anna.” Elsa stood and began to roll up her towel. Even with the limited sun, she was already red on her front, making a stark difference to the pale skin of her back.

“Nah we just getting started, come back to our place and play some ping pong. We just pulled the table out of storage.” Rapunzel aka New York offered. The two of them didn’t live far from the beach, having taken over Rapunzel’s parent’s beach house. It was very old and run down, but the pair was fixing it up in exchange for free rent.

‘Aye New York is right, and we can take my new whip… bruh.” Los Angeles gestured over his shoulder towards the dunes. They couldn’t see it yet because that dang dune was blocking things again. But everyone knew he was referring to his new golf cart.

Reluctantly the girls agreed and a few long minutes later they were rushing inside an old house to avoid the rain that had just started to fall. Their car was left abandoned in the free parking lot.

Inside was an odd mix of old and new. Brand new stainless steel appliances dotted a kitchen with dark wood cabinets and a yellow linoleum floor. A half-torn-down wall gave way to the living room with floor-to-ceiling wood paneling and floral print furniture.

“It ain’t much but it’s home.” Los Angeles said once everyone was inside. He walked beyond the torn-down wall and slapped his hand on the wood paneling. “New York over there hates this stuff, but it’s hella soundproof if you know what I mean.” With this, he wiggled his eyebrows and finally, earned an eye roll from New York.

“How did you know we were on the beach by the way?” Elsa asked as she took a step further into the kitchen to look at the collection of magnets on the fridge.

“Your sister posted about it on her tumblr of all places. Honestly, get an Instagram like the rest of us already.” New York said throwing her hands up dramatically. The drama ran in the family apparently.

The ping pong table was in the basement, a dimly light space with concrete walls and a tiled floor. Mix-matched chairs lined the walls and a mini-fridge sat in the corner next to a shelf full of liquor bottles.

The ping pong game quickly descended into beer pong with a twist. No one had to drink from the cups the ball landed in. Because that’s gross, don’t do that. Inside if someone managed to land the ball in a cup the other team had to take half a shot of vodka. Los Angeles had wanted to do full shots but Elsa and New York talked him out of it, if only for not dying reasons.

Even so after a few games with no true stand-out winner, just a bunch of dumb luck, they were all fairly buzzed. Flushed creeks and slurred speech. Outside the storm finally hit. Rain battered the small basement windows and thunder boomed overhead.

With each thunderclap, Elsa reached for Anna’s hand and wouldn’t let go till the other girl gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Finally, everyone seemed to have enough of the game and collapsed into bean bag bars that Anna and Elsa had both not noticed before. Elsa scooted her bean bag closer to Anna’s, the other two people didn’t seem to notice. New York was hanging all over Los Angeles. Her fingers tracing the curve of his jawline down, her eyes practically boring holes into his face. He acted like he didn’t see, but it was obvious he knew.

“You guys can stay here for the night if you want since the storm sounds so bad,” Eugene said, dropping his horrible accent.

“That’s very kind, but it’s just a little rain, we’ll be alright,” Anna replied, completely forgetting their car was many blocks away.

New York stopped messing with her man and turned to them. “Anna, it’s more than a little rain. It’s a hurricane, I mean it was a tropical storm and it was supposed to miss us. But you know how it be sometimes.” She said with amazing clarity for a drunkard.

Elsa’s hand shot to Anna’s and she let out an audible gasp. She had refused to check the weather before heading out the door today, figuring what she didn’t know, can’t hurt her. Which was stupid and out of character for someone who claims to be responsible.

Another boom followed by a bright flash of lightning illuminated the room for a brief second. Elsa looked terrified so Anna took it upon herself to change the subject.

“So we will be seeing you in two weeks right?”

Rapunzel playing New York smiled and clapped her hands together, “Yes! At the church!”

“For things better left unspoken,” Eugene playing Los Angeles groaned, covering his eyes with his forearm.

Another boom and the room was suddenly cast in darkness and accompanied by an eerie quiet. You never notice how much sound your electronics make till everything is off. Elsa grabbed Anna’s entire arm, holding it so tightly Anna was worried she would lose it.

“Ah fuck the power is out. We have some candles upstairs, I’ll be right back, Rapunzel can you see if the camping lantern is over on the shelf?”

“Um excuse me, it’s New York, but yes I will look.”

Two bodies moved away in the darkness, their paths illuminated by the small light on their phones. Next to Anna, Elsa’s breathing became rapid and she clung to Anna as if she was in danger of being blown away.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright,” Anna whispered, using her free hand to pet the top of Elsa’s head. The older girl shifted so in one fluid motion she was off her beanbag and on Anna’s before curling into the young girl’s side.

“I found it!” Rapunzel slash New York exclaimed. She turned it on and the room was partly lit up. She walked back to where the other two women were cuddled together and sat back down in her own beanbag.

“Wow, that’s like hella gay.” She said, pointing to the pair.

“Oh shut up, she just doesn’t like storms, you know that.” Anna quipped

Elsa let go of Anna’s arm long enough to extend a hand and flip off her cousin, earning her a laugh in response.

Eugene returned shortly after with the candles, a tray of food, and some cards. “Anyone up for a game of hurricane poker? It’s like regular poker only there’s a hurricane.”

He rejoined the group, placing the tray in the middle of everyone and paying no mind to the two women who now shared a beanbag.

Elsa lifted her head to look, the tray was adorned with a random assortment of food. Celery sticks, M&M’s, KitKat bars, Cheetos, Grapes, and some animal crackers. She made a face.

“What’s wrong uh bruh?” Eugene asked in a bad attempt to get back in character. Los Angeles would never quite be the character that New York was.

“I’ll only eat celery sticks if you pay me,” Elsa responded.

The next few hours consisted of Eugene completely wiping the floor with everyone. They played for the M&M’s, of which he now owned all of. With the power still out and the storm still raging on the decision was made for the sisters to spend the night over.

Their room was completely unrenovated, the same wood paneling from the living room made up the walls and the carpet was a thick green shag rug. Eugene was right about one thing though, the paneling sure did dampen the sound. Once the door was shut the two women could hardly hear anything, which was good because Rapunzel had started blasting Mandy Moore music for some reason.

There was only one bed, pushed into the corner, but it didn’t matter anyway. There could have been 80 beds and they still would have shared just one.

Anna laid down on her back and traced the grains in the wooden wall. “Really makes you want to carve something in this stuff you know? Something that would be around for hundreds of years.”

“Please don’t vandalize our cousin’s house,” Elsa said before sitting on the edge of the bed. She turned the lantern off so the only source of the light in the room was the candle on the nightstand.

“You alright?” Anna asked, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Yeah, I’m just worried about the storm, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Anna reached out and gently grabbed Elsa’s arm, guiding her back to lay in the bed next to her. “Do you want to sleep or keep your mind off things?”

Elsa paused for a brief moment before removing her arm from Anna’s grip. “I don’t know…”

“It’s your choice, either way, I’m here for you.” Anna smiled at her, a flash of lightning lit up the room but no thunder.

It startled Elsa but she remained where she was, staring at Anna. Thinking, always thinking.

“It’s just a storm and this old house seems to be built like a tank anyway.” She made a fist and pounded the wall to prove her point.

Elsa started twirling the end of one of Anna’s braids but her eyes remained locked on Anna’s. The delayed thunderclap came and Elsa inhaled sharply. Anna leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.

“You sure this is okay?” Elsa asked and Anna nodded, running the back of her hand down the other girl’s cheek. “Let’s get our mind off of things then.”

Elsa crawled till she was straddling Anna who gazed up at her with eyes that shown like stars in the candlelight.

“What’s your favorite constellation?”

“Hmm, probably Orion, because you can find his belt so easy,” Anna answered, “Yours?” “Your eyes”

“Ew, that’s so fucking cheesy.”

Elsa leaned down, her mouth slightly agape. Anna’s eyes fluttered shut as her hands found their way to the other woman’s shoulders.

The storm, the damage, their car, all these things could wait until tomorrow. Tonight they were out of their control so for tonight they didn’t matter.

Elsa blew out the candle, and they both plunged into the sinful escape of the darkness.

[lovelyirony]

hey girlie! so i have another prompt! i would really like your take on the avengers first few weeks/months/year together and how things changed and how they learned to really trust each other and the different, perhaps unexpected, bonds that grew! just some fun almost 2012-esque fluff uwu? (but if you made it angst, i would not complain. you do you) thank you!

Tony took one look at Fury. 

“No.” 

“Stark, where the hell else are they gonna go?” 

“Idaho!” Tony says. “Hulk can leap a ton, he’ll get to New York in about ten minutes with all of them hanging off his back. It’ll be fine.” 

Director Fury wants to use Tony’s place of residence as a way to hold the Avengers. As if Tony is just this Amazing, Fantastic Man Who Can Definitely Hold the Avengers in a Building. 

He calls Pepper because he knows that they’ll show up. He needs reinforced glass and he needs to start testing just how well his coffee machine can hold up, or if he needs to build an entirely new one. 

He probably needs a new one. 

Rhodey, understandably, is a bit pissed. 

“What, so Fury just decided ‘haha fuck you take these poor souls in’?” Rhodey asks. Tony sighs, flopping down on the couch. 

“Essentially, yes. Because apparently, I have better resources to contain them.” 

“Military spends over six hundred billion for their budget alone, and SHIELD really thinks you’re the only one who has resources?” 

“I’m the only one sharing them,” Tony says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you think that they need healthcare? Steve might need healthcare, I’m not even sure if the serum would allow that…” 

“You are not giving them healthcare, I don’t care how nice you are,” Rhodey says. “They can do it themselves since they’re ruining fruit pizza night.” 

Fuck. 

- 

Clint is shouldering one duffle bag, another bag that he’s trying to keep still, and looking at Natasha, who is staring up at the garish “A” that was put back up after the fight. 

“You think this’ll be fine?” Clint asks. 

“No.” And just like that, Natasha walks in, like this has always been her home. 

The elevator is weird. Clint’s not used to a functional elevator, and realizes that he’ll have to add arm workouts because he won’t have to pry himself from the elevator doors anymore. 

He doesn’t know where the gym is. He also doesn’t know how seriously Tony takes coffee. 

- 

Steve is…well they told him that he has a room available at Stark Tower, but he’s not entirely sure that he should go. 

The apartment in Brooklyn is just fine, even if the rent is too damn expensive. It’s a shoe box of a place, but as long as he can have a bed and a window he’s fine. 

“You’re so sad,” Natasha says to him on the phone. He appreciates texting, but it seems that everyone thinks his poor 1940s sensibilities are still ingrained. To some aspect they are, but he also realized that looking at videos of people falling for twenty minutes is hilarious. Everyone else thinks he’s doing something else. He is not. 

But he doesn’t want to move. He just got here. And he keeps talking to people who aren’t there. 

(He asked Bucky if he still wanted bacon that morning. 

He’s not there.) 

Fury insists on it. 

“You’re under SHIELD,” he says. “And besides, it’ll be good for Stark to finally have someone who’s on his…level.” 

“What do you mean by that, Sir?” 

“He has an ego. Needs to be taken down a few pegs.” 

Steve nods. He’s not completely sure that he agrees with that. Tony flew under giant jet propellers, flew into the sky for what needed to be done. It was death, he knew that. 

(Oh, he knew it a bit too well. Sent ice down his spine as a reminder for how well he knows it.) 

But he grabs his things because he’s anything if not a good rule-follower, according to history. 

He just leaves a bit of a mess for Fury to deal with in the form of “oh, those gosh-darn-new-fangled washing machines! I don’t know what I did. I put spaghetti sauce in the dish detergent area I thought that’s where extra food went!” 

Steve knows for a damn fact that that’s not where food goes. He just likes letting them know that he’s not some “how high do I jump, Sir?” kind of guy. 

He stares up at the big, ugly tower. Well…here goes nothing. 

- 

Thor was actually pretty okay with sleeping on a couch. He was not expecting a bedroom of his own, so when Tony told him? 

Thor hugs him. 

“Thank you,” he says, smiling. “Your kindness stretches for miles.” 

“Um…you’re welcome?” Tony questions, subconsciously rubbing his own arms, as if he can’t believe that someone else hugged him. 

“I have a question about human advancement,” Thor says, changing the subject. “I…you guys haven’t figured out my sort of transportation, correct?” 

“I didn’t even know we could do that,” Tony says, eyes going wide. “Does it rearrange your cells? Do you have to think about it? How dangerous is it?” 

Thor grins, setting down his bag and resting at the kitchen counter. He’ll be ready to talk about this for a while. 

- 

Bruce comes into the Tower as quietly as possible, not wanting to cause any huge sort of fuss. 

This doesn’t matter when Tony finds him and visibly brightens. Thor is already sitting at the kitchen. He looks surprisingly domestic, just in jeans and a worn t-shirt. 

“I didn’t know you went shopping,” Bruce remarked. 

“Have to fit in with your mortals somehow,” Thor jokes. “Good to see you again, Doctor.” 

“Just call me Bruce,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “What have you guys been talking about?” 

“Interdimensional travel. Tony’s betting he can perfect it in under a year,” Thor says. 

Bruce looks to Tony. 

“You sure about that?” 

“So long as you help me,” Tony teases.  

- 

The team being together is…awkward. Tony is not used to people living in his house, so he forgets to amend his usual…habits. 

Rhodey is used to them, but currently he is overseas on a “top secret” mission. Tony knows all, because that’s the type of friend he can be. He’s sending Rhodey a postcard, addressed to the exact location. Rhodey’s superiors will be furious, unless if it’s one of the older ones. 

But Tony is not used to other people being present for his breakfast shenanigans, so he’s in an old tank top that is stained with grease, and he’s humming as he’s flitting around the kitchen, turning on the coffeepot without so much as a thought. 

When he turns, he sees Clint. 

“You’re a morning person?” Clint asks, eyes as wide as can be. 

“You are also up at six in the morning,” Tony says. “So I think that qualifies you as well.” 

“Had it not been for SHIELD, neither of us get up before eleven,” Natasha says. “Like the rag you call a shirt, Stark. Suits you.” 

Tony pokes out his tongue, taking a swig of coffee. 

“You’re just jealous,” Tony says. “I make this look like it could be four hundred dollars.” 

Clint groans. 

“I’m mad that you’re right,” Clint says. “Hey, quick question. How averse are you to me using your coffeepot?” 

“I’m done, go for it,” Tony says. “Thank you for asking, I appreciate it.” 

Clint brings out a bag of coffee that Tony was banned from about two years ago. 

Pepper does not need to know that. 

“If I give you money, will you buy more of this?” Tony says, eyes wide. 

“Um, yeah?” Clint says. “This is the only coffee that wakes me up in the morning.” 

“Why can’t you buy it?” Natasha asks, suspicious. “Were you banned?” 

“Sir was, indeed, banned from the substance,” Jarvis intercedes, smoothly. Natasha jumps a bit. “I would highly advise against buying it for him, as that would induce the wrath of Ms. Potts.” 

“Spoilsport,” Tony pouts. “Clint, I will make you a custom-bow with the perfect measurements and full custom design. I would even deign to put any logo on it that you wanted.” 

“So if I wanted it to be themed, you’d do it?” 

“Yes.” 

“Worth it. I also don’t fear death by a powerful woman, it’s in my Top Five Ways to Die list,” Clint says with a shrug. 

- 

Steve is used to living with other people. He was in the army, after all, and guys slept about three feet apart. He had thought he would see it all. 

This is until he walks in to see Bruce and Natasha in a staredown, hands clasped in an arm-wrestling pose. 

“What are the stakes?” Steve asks. 

“There are communal strawberries on the line,” Bruce says, not blinking. “And I am going to eat them. Natasha seems to think that she will be taking them to her room.” 

“Why not buy more?” Steve asks, settling into the bar with his sketchpad. 

“Because that’s the route for pacifists,” Natasha answers. 

“Bruce, are you not a pacifist?” Steve asks, raising eyebrows. 

“Technically? Yes,” Bruce says. His arm is shaking with effort. “But when fruit is involved that tends to…ebb.” 

“I’m going to leave,” Steve says slowly. “I am scared.” 

He hears a thump on his way out, a curse from Natasha, and then Bruce passes by him with a huge box of strawberries, cackling maniacally as Natasha rushes after him. 

Steve laughs. 

Thor raises an eyebrow as Bruce launches himself into his room, shutting the door. 

“Do you know what’s going on?” 

“Strawberry fights. Very serious thing,” Steve asks, grinning. “Wanna take a bet on if Natasha gets in?” 

“She will,” Thor answers. “But twenty bucks says she does it in ten minutes.” 

“Twenty minutes for me. You’re on,” Steve counters.

- 

Of course, it isn’t all violets and roses. Steve and Tony fight like cats and dogs, and Bruce gets short with people. 

Natasha doesn’t like talking feelings, and Clint would rather launch himself off a building than deal with any sort of threat that is adulthood. 

Thor…Thor is older significantly. He’s just dealing with mortal life and how quickly it goes by and the truth behind his father’s reign of Asgard. 

The team, gets through it. But not without a few hard knocks. 

- 

One of the first moments of bonding as a team is due to the ever-heated-debate of pineapple. 

Natasha, Tony, Bruce, and Thor are on the side of “acceptable.” 

Clint and Steve are on the side of “simply terrible and the absolute worst.” 

Steve comes up to bat first with the line of “I ate war rations that were better than this shit.” 

Bruce has nothing to add other than “my self-esteem directly correlates to pineapple on pizza.” 

“I don’t know what that means, but! I think if we put pineapple on pizza then you guys can’t argue when I make my food.” 

“You think putting cheese-sticks instead of shredded cheese on pizza is acceptable,” Tony says. “I have trust issues because of that. They didn’t even melt right!” 

“I thought you were all about admitting to mistakes, Mr. Sorry-I-Accused-the-Whole-Team-of-Stealing-My-Kiwi-When-it-was-Rhodey,” Clint teases. 

“Speaking of, what is Rhodey’s opinion on this?” Steve asks. “I bet he hates pineapple!” 

“We are not bringing him into this,” Tony says quickly. 

“I’m calling him,” Clint says. 

“How do you have his number?” 

“I’m Hawkeye. I see all.” 

“You couldn’t even see the name of ‘Bruce Banner’ on top of my Murtabak.” 

“How am I expected to read that shitty doctor language? Anyways, you should be grateful that I ate it because my toes curled because of the spice.” 

“You can’t handle the spice!” 

“You’re right!” 

From there, it dissolves into giggles and laughs. 

Tony orders pizza, and they all sit around the common room, debating over what is the least acceptable topping (other than pineapple in some settings). 

They end up debating over sardines next, which Steve says “aren’t the worst.” 

Natasha says broccoli, which is agree upon. Broccoli should not go on pizza. 

Steve draws a little picture of Clint and Tony arguing, complete with gesticulating hands and the little t-shirt details of Clint. 

Thor hangs it up on the fridge. 

“This is now where we hang accomplishments,” Thor says gravely. “I saw it in a show. Do people actually do that here?” 

“Don’t ask me,” Steve says. “I just got a fridge this century. Didn’t have one growing up. Too poor in the Depression.” 

“I can’t believe you and me both lived in a Depression,” Bruce says thoughtfully. 

“Bruce, you were born in the–” Steve stops for a moment. “Oh. Now that’s a neat joke.” 

Bruce snorts. 

The fridge is stacked with sticky notes that are usually petty in nature, although Tony allows his good stationary to be used for good accomplishments. 

The Petty Messages are as Follows: 

Bruce managed to share blueberries with Natasha and not bitch about it the whole duration. Incredible. -Nat. 

Thor actually didn’t monopolize the aux cord and play his super shitty playlist that is full of bad 2000s music. -Tony 

Tony withstood the whole duration of American Classic “Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls” and only winced once. -Thor. 

Steve managed to be tolerable for more than three hours. -Bruce 

Clint is a Good Guy Who Deserves Good Things -Natasha 

Even though she wrote that drunk she’s right lmao -Clint 

The Excellent Messages are as Follows: 

Tony actually opened up and told us what was bothering him so we could address it! -Clint and Bruce 

Thor helped Natasha with her furniture and helped us calm down from IKEA instructions. -Steve 

Bruce kicked the government’s ass. -Everyone on the team plus Maria and Fury 

Steve tried to roller skate and provided wholesome content when he was gripping the wall but also bonded with the team. -Natasha 

Clint baked cookies!!!!!!!!! And didn’t burn the tower down!!!!! -Tony 

Rhodey finally let us make fruit pizza and shared his music playlists. -Thor 

Natasha helped with group therapy today and opened up. It was amazing and I love her so much for that. -Bruce 

- 

The team grows closer, due to many reasons. But most of all, it is because they kept trying, which is very important. Even when they wanted to rip their hair out and they said the wrong things, they were still there and circling back around to make an apology. 

So when they’re out for battle, they don’t worry if someone won’t have their back. Hulk will be there with outstretched palm, Iron Man will be there with a quick joke and open arms, Black Widow will be there with deadly skill. Hawkeye will be there with the most accurate aim in the world, Thor will be there with thunderous force, and Captain America will have a shield and protection. 

But Bruce will be there when they need a joke and calm reassurance. Tony will be there to share his endless affection and touch. Natasha will be there with sound logic, a smile, and soft sweaters. Thor will be there with stories of old, energetic reassurance, and a strong and reliant personality. Steve will be there with art and words that go unsaid but not unheard. 

That, perhaps, is the most important. 

[justjessame]

Starting Over Chapter 10

Bucky stayed.  It didn’t surprise me that he was far more thorough with locking up and securing my house than I usually was, and I wasn’t a slouch at it by any means.  We worked in tandem at shutting off the downstairs lights, and he was right behind me on the stairs, climbing to the second floor and where the three bedrooms and the bathroom waited for us to get ready for bed.  

“You can go first,” I offered, opening the bathroom door and flipping on the light.  “There’s an extra toothbrush in the left drawer.”  Bucky waited, obviously wondering why I had more than one on hand.  “They’re less expensive if you buy in bulk.”  I shrugged.  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  “Anyway, I’m going to go get ready for bed -” a silent swallow, I could see his Adam’s apple bob, but heard nothing.  I pointed to my bedroom door.  “Right there.”  

“OK,” he nodded, teeth teasing his very soft and lush bottom lip.  I didn’t move and neither did he.  “Are you going to actually go into your room?”  He asked and I blinked at him.  

“Are you going to go into the bathroom?”  Counter with a question, I thought it best to remind him that he wasn’t moving either.  I bit my lip and he licked his.  “One of us has to move,” he nodded.  “Well?”  

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the frame of the bathroom door.  “Why do I have to move first?” He squinted down at me.  “If this is going to work, we both have to -”

I was grinning as I rolled my eyes and started moving toward my bedroom.  “Oh, I see how it is, Bucky Barnes,” shaking my head, I looked back to see that he’d watched me go.  “I want this to work.”  

“Me too,” it was barely a breath, but I heard it.  He turned to go into the bathroom and I went into my bedroom, I was smiling and I hoped that he was too.

While Bucky was doing his ‘getting ready for bedtime’ routine in my bathroom, I was having a slight dilemma in my bedroom.  It wasn’t what to wear, because honestly I didn’t own anything too sexy.  I got Snapped while still living with my parents, after all.  No, my pajamas were cute and comfortable, but they were also something safe to wear to a church lock in.  

My dilemma came as I was staring at my bed.  He said his bed was too soft, so wouldn’t my bed be too?  I was contemplating pulling the blankets and pillows off to do what me and my friends would do when we had sleepovers, when the scent of my toothpaste invaded my personal space.  

“You’re staring at that bed like it’s going to tell you a secret,” still quiet, but very close.  “I don’t think it talks.”  I snorted, Bucky’s humor was a cross between my Dad’s and I’m not entirely sure whose.  

“I want you to be comfortable,” I turned and bit my lip when I realized that he’d ditched the top layer he’d been wearing, but he was still outfitted in his jeans and t-shirt.  He did take off his boots though, so at least his feet wouldn’t be cramped.  “You’re making it difficult, Buck.”  

One eyebrow arched and I wondered if mine went that high.  “How’s that?”  

“Jeans?”  I didn’t look down, I thought that might make my brain malfunction again, thinking about what was UNDER his jeans.  “I know you’re used to sleeping where you could catch some,” I knew he understood I meant BEFORE.  “But we’re in my house, Bucky, blankets, pillows -” I bit my lip again.  

“You think that I should just -” a smirk was playing on his lips, and I waited for whatever was coming.  “What if I’m not wearing anything underneath?”  

He was TRYING to make me blush, I knew it.  “I have to think that free and easy would still be more comfortable than denim crushing your junk all night.”  He was staring at me.  “Is that what you meant when you said neither one of us would be getting any sleep, Buck?”  I sighed.  “Damn, and I thought you meant something infinitely more enjoyable.”  That did it, his smirk turned into a grin and he shook his head.  

“You are -” he reached for me and pulled me closer.  “How did I find you?”  

“No idea,” I stared up at him, thinking that I was just as happy that I’d found him.  “I’ll leave you to finish up getting ready, I need to brush my teeth.”  He didn’t let me go, not until he brushed his lips against mine, reminding me of how soft and sweet Bucky Barnes really was.  

I didn’t give myself the mantra.  I thought it might be a LITTLE weird for Bucky to hear me give myself a verbal pep talk before bed.  Having him rethink cuddling with me would suck at this point, so I stared into the mirror while brushing my teeth and then brushing and braiding my hair THINKING it very hard.  

When I returned to my room, I found Bucky shirtless and in his boxers - and I think I short circuited for a few beats.  I know I FELT the ridges of his chest and shoulders in the kitchen during our very hot makeout session, but SEEING him in all his technicolor wonder was a true sight to behold.  I was thinking that maybe the Smithsonian might want to update that exhibit on the Howling Commandos when he said my name. 

“Brooke,” I mentallly shook myself and nodded.  “Which side do you normally sleep on?”  Oh right, the bed.  

I remembered the dilemma that I had earlier - “The bed,” he nodded, and I had a momentary flash that Bucky thought he HAD broken me.  “Earlier when you said it didn’t talk?”  A flash of understanding and I went on, “if you’d prefer, we could sleep on the floor.” 

I’ve read those throwaway romance novels, every girl has, and you read about people’s faces lighting up like the sun, but you NEVER actually experience it in real life.  I did when I offered the option of sleeping on the floor to Bucky.  His smile grew, soft and sweet, but his entire face seemed to light up and I knew that he appreciated the offer and knew that it was coming from a good place.  

“We don’t have to,” he began, but I was already pulling the blankets free of the bed.  

“I know we don’t HAVE to, Bucky,” I moved to the barest spot of the floor, on the far side of the bedroom.  “Grab the pillows, please?”  

We worked together, creating a pretty nice little bed on the floor, even if I did have to talk him down from going to the living room to grab the cushions off the sofa so I wouldn’t be on the hard floor all night.  I asked if there was anything else that he normally did to sleep and he said he kept the television on, so I grabbed the remote and clicked it on.  Soft blue light flickering over us, a murmur of voices, and Bucky holding me as we drifted off to sleep.  

I would be lying if I said we slept without nightmares.  Falling into - whatever it was we were falling into - isn’t a cure all.  Sorry to all the romantics out there.    

No, I still saw the flashes of red and blue, then the colors that had no names here on Earth.  The feelings of pain and terror, but I will admit that they weren’t AS gripping.  I didn’t feel like I was in danger of being pulled back into wherever I’d been during those five years I was gone.  Like I was anchored in my house, like I had something holding me back in the land of reality.  The pain and terror, the horror that seemed to lurk in the dark was still hovering over me, then the flashes that came again.  And then red and blue and I was gasping awake, but this time I wasn’t alone - and Bucky was gasping to wakefulness beside me, reaching for me and that made it better somehow.

We were holding one another, the flickering blue light of the television casting a sort of halo over us and the murmur of the voices were almost as soothing as how Bucky’s warmth and bare skin felt against my fingertips.  

When our mouths, like magnets searching for a connection, met the warmth seemed to flare hotter.  I forgot that we were in a nest of blankets on my bedroom floor, that we’d only met a day earlier, that there were a million reasons we should go slower.  And he did too, I heard him make a noise that sounded suspiciously like a growl and then his hands were tugging up my nightshirt and I was pulling away enough to help his progress.  He was about to rid me of the offending garment when the voices on the television managed to break through both of our concentrations.  

[hh-rose]

Get Myself Back

ao3

playlist

Call him crazy, but Bucky assumed that when he came back from being turned to dust, he and Steve were finally going to get their happy ending. It would’ve been poetic. It was sappy, and Bucky was hardly a sap, but he thought he could allow being a sap this one time. 

Their story was already poetic and sappy and beautiful. Best friends who were always in love, but never together, torn apart by war and death. Best friend comes back from the dead but is horribly brainwashed and evil. Brainwashed assassin gets unbrainwashed just in time to get turned into dust. Then, of course, he comes back from being turned to dust. 

If Bucky was being completely honest, it seemed like a complete waste to not get a happy ending after that. He knew they had to take advantage of it because God only knew if they were going to get another chance. So, when everything died down, and Steve told Bucky that they needed to talk, Bucky expected it to be the happy ending talk. 

Call him crazy, but Bucky wasn’t expecting the conversation that he received. 

...

Bucky walked into the guest room he and Steve were sharing at Tony’s cabin just like he was asked to. He honest to God expected Steve to be on his goddamn knee when he walked in, no matter how cheesy that was. Instead, he saw a very distraught Steve pacing back and forth. 

“Steve?” Bucky asked. “What’s going on? What did you want to talk about?”

“I’m going to put the stones back where they belong,” Steve explained. Weird way to start this conversation, Bucky thought to himself.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he questioned. Steve stopped pacing and looked at Bucky. 

“No, no, you have to stay here,” Steve stated. Bucky’s eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. 

“And why’s that? Since when do we go on missions alone?”

“I’m staying in the past,” Steve said, looking straight into Bucky’s eyes. Bucky’s eyebrows fell back down into a straight furrow. “I’m staying in the forties with Peggy.”

“Peggy?” Bucky tested the name on his tongue. “I’m sorry. What?”

“She’s the love of my life, Buck.”

“She’s the what?”

“I thought you would be happy for me,” Steve said sadly.

“Happy? Happy? Why the hell would I be happy about this?” Bucky questioned angrily. “You’re throwing everything away to be with someone who you knew for a week? She’s not the love of your fucking life. You don’t even know her!”

“Bucky,” Steve chastised, shaking his head. “I love her. I would give up the world for her.”

“Yeah, well, last I checked, the only person you gave up the world for was me,” Bucky stated, biting his tongue afterward. He felt tears beginning to come up. “Why are you leaving me? I don’t understand. Am I not enough?”

“You’re perfect, Bucky,” Steve said, pushing some of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. Bucky backed away from him. “It’s just that I think it’s time that I take a nice retirement.”

“You can’t retire with me? You can’t have a happy life with me?”

“Buck.”

“When are you going?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“So we have tonight?” Bucky asked. Steve nodded. “I can’t convince you to stay. I know that. I deserve more than one night. I deserve to be happy and in love for the rest of my life, but I’ll settle for tonight. I assume that that’s something you want to, otherwise you wouldn’t have told me.”

“You deserve more,” Steve stated. Bucky entered into his space.

“Yeah, I do,” Bucky responded, lips not an inch away from Steve’s. He held Steve’s t-shirt in his hands. “But I deserve a proper goodbye as well.”

...

Steve left and came back in a matter of seconds. He lived a whole goddamn life, but it was only a few seconds for Bucky. Bucky was seething with rage the entire time. He knew that it must’ve seemed odd that he wasn’t going crazy with worry, and he knew it was completely out of character for him to send Sam to Steve first.

“Did you know?” Sam quietly asked Bucky when he was done talking to Steve. Bucky just nodded silently. “You should go talk to him.”

“I really, really don’t want to,” Bucky replied. Sam made a disappointed face, but Bucky didn’t have the energy for that either. “Fine.”

“Buck,” Steve said happily when Bucky sat down on the bench next to him. “I missed you.” Bucky only hummed in response. “You didn’t miss me?”

“You were only gone a few seconds,” Bucky said flatly. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Bucky answered. He let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t really care. I’m numb right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not, and that’s okay. It’s your life, and clearly, I don’t have a place in that anymore.”

“You’re always going to have a place in my life.”

“Really?” Bucky questioned sarcastically. “Is that so? Then, I’m sure this will be an easy question to answer. When you were back in the past, did you try to save me? Your best friend, your previous lover, who was being tortured, did you try to save him?”

“I…” Steve began. “I couldn’t. You know that. I couldn’t mess up time like that.”

“So you were fine with completely uprooting Peggy’s life, but you couldn’t be bothered to go get me? That’s fine, Steve. If you didn’t care enough to help me, that’s okay, but fucking own up to it,” Bucky told him. 

“I do love you. I…I did,” Steve assured him. Bucky nodded. 

“I know. Just not as much as you loved her, and not nearly enough as I loved you.”

...

It was only a few days later that Steve died. It’s not like they weren’t expecting it; he was exceptionally old. Another funeral wasn’t exactly what the group needed at the time, but they put one on nonetheless. 

It was a nice service. Not that Bucky would know as he was completely shitfaced the entire time. He stayed quiet for the most part. That was until the dinner afterward. Everyone was eating and telling their favorite stories about Steve. Bucky took a sip of his drink, smiled, and put it down on the table.

“You have a story to share, Bucky?” Scott asked. 

“Yes, I do,” Bucky slurred. “I came out to Steve when we were fifteen years old. It just kind of happened. I wouldn’t have planned to do it. It was the fucking thirties. Anyway, before he had the courage to come out to me, he said, ‘I still love you, Buck. I’m never gonna leave you. I’m with you till the end of the line.���”

“That’s sweet,” Wanda offered, but Bucky didn’t pay her any mind. 

“Til the end of the fucking line. That was his little phrase. He said to me all the time. Every time I was sad or in danger, ‘til the end of the line,’” Bucky said with a bitter laugh. “He didn’t say it to me again before he died. The one time I needed to hear it. He just fucking left me. First, for her, and then he just fucking died. ‘Til the end of the line my ass.”

“Bucky,” Sam cut in, eyes wide and upset. He watched Bucky down the rest of his drink. “I think that’s enough for tonight. Why don’t we head home?”

“What fucking home?” Bucky asked, causing everyone to look at him. “I lived alone in a shack in Wakanda. Of course, we could always go back to Steve’s apartment that I lived in for quite some time as well.”

“My place. We can go to my place,” Sam told him. 

“I’m not a fucking baby, pigeon,” Bucky spat. “I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I know that,” Sam said softly. “Let’s just go, okay?”

“Fine, but I’m drinking there,” Bucky agreed. Sam groaned and helped Bucky up, out of the hall, and into the car. He was complaining the whole time, but eventually, he passed out in the passenger seat. 

“Bucky,” Sam said, shaking him when they arrived at Sam’s apartment complex. He realized that that wasn’t going to work, so he decided to just get out of the car and help. He managed to get Bucky to his feet and start walking up to his apartment. 

“He left me,” Bucky murmured so low that Sam wasn’t sure he heard him right. Sam pressed the button to the elevator and stepped inside, Bucky still heavily leaning on him. “He left me, Sam.”

“I know,” Sam whispered back. He had never seen Bucky this vulnerable, and he felt like he was intruding for a number of reasons. 

“I loved him so much,” Bucky whispered back as the elevator doors opened. Neither one of them said anything as they walked to Sam’s apartment. Once they got inside, Sam led Bucky to his bedroom. 

“Alright, let’s lay you down here,” Sam said, sitting Bucky down on the bed, but Bucky resisted. 

“No,” he groaned. “Couch. This is your bed.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You can take the bed tonight,” Sam assured him. Bucky nodded and laid down. “Do you need anything else?”

“‘M good,” Bucky replied. Sam turned to leave the room, but he heard Bucky whisper, “I loved him so much, Sam, but I wasn’t good enough.”

Sam nodded sadly before shutting off the light and closing the door. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had gotten himself into, but he did know that it was Captain America’s job to take care of Bucky Barnes. 

...

Sam was up early the next morning. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. “Up early” implies that he went to sleep at all, and “sleep” was an over-exaggeration for his restless night on his living room couch. Either way, he was exhausted sitting at his kitchen counter anxiously waiting for Bucky to wake up. He knew that they needed to talk, but he also knew that Bucky was not big on talking. 

“Wilson?” Sam heard Bucky’s groggy voice from the hallway. He then appeared in the kitchen. “What the hell happened?”

“You drank three times your body weight,” Sam explained, getting up to pour Bucky a cup of coffee. Bucky sat down across from Sam at the counter and accepted the drink. 

“I’m not even able to get drunk,” Bucky murmured. 

“Well, you could’ve fooled me,” Sam replied with a smirk. Bucky glared at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Bucky stated flatly. Sam nodded. Then he yawned. “Tired?”

“Extremely. The couch isn’t exactly the best place to sleep,” Sam responded, taking a sip of his coffee. “And that is precisely why we’re moving.”

“What?” Bucky asked, eyes wide. Sam chuckled lightly. 

“We’re gonna get a two-bedroom,” Sam told him. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Not that you would have any reason to say no. I’m just giving you a roof over your head. It’s a kindness really.”

“Oh, shut up,” Bucky said, but he was smiling. “You really want to live with me?”

“No,” Sam replied plainly, but then his face cracked into a grin. Bucky smiled back, and that was just the beginning. 

...

It didn’t take Sam and Bucky long to find an apartment they liked. They moved into their new place less than a week after they decided to move in together. Living together was definitely the right call. This way Sam could keep an eye on Bucky at all times. 

Bucky wasn’t doing well. Not that that was a surprise because he hadn’t been doing well since the forties. He wasn’t okay before, and Steve leaving shattered whatever was left of him. Sam knew that if he left Bucky to his own devices, it would’ve been a disaster. 

It had been months since Steve when Sam had had enough. At first, he really wanted Bucky to cope however was necessary, but after a while, Sam knew that it needed to stop. He came to this startling realization in the middle of the night when he heard crying and things crashing coming from the bathroom. 

“Bucky?” Sam asked, terrified as he walked closer to the bathroom. He pushed the door open and saw Bucky standing in front of the mirror. There were tears streaming down his face, and he was holding Sam’s electric razor.

“He loved my hair,” Bucky said angrily. He was looking at Sam through the mirror. “He loved it when we were kids, and he loved it before he left. His hands were always in it, and that is the only thing I can think of when I look in the mirror.”

“Okay,” Sam replied, nodding. “Do you want me to help?”

“Would you mind?” Bucky asked, looking into Sam’s eyes through the glass. Sam smiled softly. Bucky already knew the answer to the question. Sam stepped forward and took the clippers from Bucky’s hand. 

“How short are we talking?” Sam questioned, inspecting Bucky’s hair. 

“Buzzcut,” Bucky replied. Sam’s heart broke a little bit but he did as he was told. 

Sam was being incredibly careful as he touched and cut Bucky’s hair. He knew that this was something that Bucky was vulnerable about, and he didn’t want to trigger him in any way. It was incredibly hard to do that, though, when Bucky would roll his neck like that. 

“All done,” Sam said, voice barely above a whisper. Whatever the hell just happened was the most intimate thing they ever did, and it was greatly affecting Sam. He finally looked at Bucky’s full head in the mirror, and that affected him even more. “You like it? Did I do a good job?”

“I love it,” Bucky answered, moving closer to the mirror. He rubbed his head and smiled to himself. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Sam said with a smile. He left the bathroom and went to his room. He threw himself onto the bed with a huff. “Fuck.”

...

Obviously, after that whole mess, Sam knew that he needed to do something. He needed to help Bucky. He also knew that there was something new to how he felt about Bucky, but now was not the time to worry about that. His only concern was helping the man who was currently sitting on the couch after a mission that exhausted both of them.

“Man, I am wiped,” Bucky said, putting his feet up on the coffee table. “Maybe I’ll actually sleep through the night tonight.”

Sam hummed, but he hated what that statement suggested. He hated that Bucky wasn’t sleeping. He hated all of it. He knew that it was now or never.

“Did Steve ever tell you about Riley? My Riley?” Sam asked. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him, and Sam took that as a no. “He was my best friend. Somewhere along the line, we fell in love, and he became my entire world. I loved him with my entire being.

“He died when we were in the Air Force together. It absolutely destroyed me. It was the worst and darkest time in my life,” Sam explained. “I didn’t think I would ever get out of that place. He was my person, and he wasn’t there to help me anymore. Being with him, talking to him, it would make me feel better immediately, and I didn’t have that anymore. So, I wrote him a letter, and it helped. I got closure. I miss him every single day, but it doesn’t hurt like it used to.”

“I’m sorry, Sam,” Bucky said softly. Sam smiled at him. “Did the letter really help?”

“It did,” Sam told him. “I can’t promise you that it’ll help you the same way it helped me, but I do think that maybe you should try. Just give it a try, okay?”

“Anything for you, Sammy my boy,” Bucky replied, grinning. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Shut up, Barnes. I’m going to shower,” Sam said, pushing Bucky’s shoulder before getting off the couch. He heard Bucky clear his throat, and he turned around. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said genuinely. He looked Sam in the eyes, and that feeling of intimacy from the night before hit them both again. 

“Anything for you, Bucky my boy.”

...

It was a few hours later, and Bucky was sitting on his bed with a notebook on his lap. He ripped out yet another page, crumpled it up, and groaned. He took a deep breath and started again.

Dear Steve,

I’ve tried to start this about ten times, but I keep starting over. I’m not gonna start over this time though. I have a lot of feelings about all of this, and as we both know, I’m not great with feelings. I need to get it all out though.

 I don’t want to be mad at you. I have never been mad at you, but there have been so many times when you deserved for me to be mad at you. I loved you too much, though. I loved you too much to see that what you were doing warranted me being mad. I loved you too much, and you were too selfish. 

 You were always selfish from day one. You were sick, and you said you were fine because you wanted to play football with the rest of us. You got pneumonia after that, Steve. You could’ve died.  

 You got into fights with people who could have easily killed you because you wanted to. You didn’t care that your ma cried herself to sleep at night because she was so worried about you. You didn’t care that I was terrified to find you dead in some alley.  

 Then, you kept trying to get into the war even though you knew that you would die. You were going to die, Stevie. There was no other way. I was selfish at that point. I was so happy that they wouldn’t let you fight. I didn’t want you to die. Do you see the difference, Steve? I was selfish because I wanted you to live. I was selfish for you. 

 Then, you showed up all not you. You changed yourself because you wanted something so badly. You didn’t change yourself because you wanted to save the world. You just wanted the glory. You were selfish. 

 Then, a century later, you broke laws because you were selfish. Don’t tell me that you did that for me. I would have believed you if you told me that a few years ago, but not now. I know better now. 

 I wish you did it for me. I hoped for years that one day, one day you would be selfish for me. For us. I thought that you felt the same way. I thought that you were finally ready to settle down with me after everything that happened. You had one last piece of selfishness in you, and I thought you were going to use it for us. 

 But, of course, you used it for her. How could I be so stupid? How could I expect you to ever put anyone before yourself? Did you know that she had a family? She had kids, kids who don’t exist anymore thanks to you. You messed up the entire universe because you wanted to fuck some dame you met a hundred years ago.  

 So, yeah, now I’m mad, and I have every right to be mad. I love you. I loved you. I’ll probably always love you, but I really don’t want to be in this pain anymore. I don’t want to be in agony anymore. I want to let this all go. 

 I don’t forgive you. I’m not ready for that yet, and I’m not sure when that is going to be. I do know that I love you, and I hate hating you. I hate how I feel. I know that you loved me. Even though that wasn’t enough to keep you here, it is enough to get me through the day.

 I’m going to have a good life. I am. I’ll keep our memories (the good ones) with me until the end, but I think that it might be time to put that behind me. I’ll put you in a little box in my mind where you’ll be happy, and I’ll get to be happy too. 

 I hope that you had a nice life without me. I’m sure that sounds very bitter, but it’s only a little bitter. That’s what you do for the people you love, Steve. You hope that they’re happy, even if it’s not with you. 

 Wow, I really thought I was done, but I just can’t seem to end this. I guess I just miss talking to you. I miss you every second of the day, and I’m always going to miss you. It’s okay though. It’s all going to be okay. I’m going to move on, and everything is going to be fine. I’m going to be fine, Steve. I’m going to be fine without you. 

 You were the one who decided that this was the end of the line, and now I’m deciding that I’m not with you anymore. 

 Sincerely, 

Bucky 

Bucky closed the notebook and slept through the night for the first time in months. 

...

Sam didn’t want to say that Bucky was magically healed, but he was certainly better than he was before. He was smiling and laughing, and it was making Sam’s heart fucking soar. Bucky was sitting next to him on the couch laughing at the movie they were watching, and Sam couldn’t stop staring at him.

“What are you looking at, Wilson?” Bucky asked, not looking away from the tv. Sam’s face heated up so much that he thought he was on fire. 

“Just admiring my handiwork,” Sam explained, turning his attention to Bucky’s hair, which was growing in nicely. 

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky asked, turning his head to face Sam at last. “You think it looks good?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied softly, internally freaking out. “It looks real good, Bucky.”

“Yeah?” Bucky questioned, voice just above a whisper. He made eye contact with Sam, and something just changed in the air. “It’s really soft now that it’s short.”

“Can I...Can I, uh…?” Sam tried to ask, but it didn’t come out. Bucky just smiled at him and nodded. Sam bit his lip and slid his hand into Bucky’s hair. “You’re right. It’s very soft.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, biting his lip to stop himself from smiling.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Sam told him. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. “I like it when you smile.”

“Haven’t had much of a reason to smile recently, but, um, you helped me with that,” Bucky explained. Sam’s fingers tightened in his hair, and his eyes fluttered closed. 

“Glad I could help,” Sam whispered, face only a few inches away from Bucky’s where they were sitting turned into each other on the couch.

“It would help even more if you kissed me,” Bucky stated. Sam’s eyes went wide before his pupils enlarged. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. 

“Positive. Kiss me.” 

Sam took a deep breath before leaning forward and connecting his lips with Bucky’s. They were both hesitant at first, but when Bucky made an attempt to deepen the kiss, Sam immediately allowed for it to happen. He pushed Bucky down so he was lying on the couch was Sam leaning over him. 

“You’re still sure?” Sam asked, hovering for a moment. 

“If you don’t get your pretty face down here and kiss me, I’m going to break your wings.”

“Aw, you think my face is pretty,” Sam said, ducking down to give Bucky a chaste kiss on the cheek. He smirked before moving down to kiss Bucky’s neck. 

“Oh my God,” Bucky groaned. He could feel his pants getting tighter, and he was embarrassed for a second until he bucked up and realized they were in the same boat. 

Sam pushed Bucky’s hips down with his own and ground slightly, not wanting to move too fast. Bucky pulled Sam’s face up to his lips again, and Sam happily obliged. His hands began to wander down Bucky’s torso until they found the waistband of his boxers.

“Don’t ask me if I’m sure again,” Bucky said between pants. “I’m fucking positive. Do whatever you want as long as you’re okay with it.”

“You got it, Sergeant,” Sam responded, and the moan he received made him almost die. “Like that?”

“Yes,” Bucky whispered. Sam smiled to himself before placing a light kiss on Bucky’s lips. His lips then began to trail to where his hands currently were. 

“You’re in for the night of your life, Sergeant Barnes.”

...

Needless to say, that was not the only time that happened. It became a pretty regular thing between the two of them. They hadn’t really talked about it, which Sam, ever the therapist, wasn’t happy with, but he wasn’t exactly ready to stop doing it. 

“Buck,” Sam said in between moans as Bucky kissed greedily at Sam’s neck. “Maybe we should talk.”

“I think I’d much rather keep doing what I’m doing, thanks,” Bucky replied into the skin he was sucking at. Sam rolled his eyes, from both pleasure and annoyance. 

“Bucky,” Sam breathed out. Bucky pulled away and looked Sam in the eye.

“Look, Sam, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want, but I’m pretty sure you’re enjoying yourself,” Bucky informed, smirking as he ran his hand up Sam’s thigh. “Sure, we could talk, or I could do the tongue thing.”

“The tongue thing?” Sam asked, knowing exactly what Bucky was referring to. Bucky smirked and nodded. Sam bit his lip. “That’s not fair, Barnes. You know I can’t say no to that.”

“I know full well, darlin’,” Bucky replied, kissing behind Sam’s ear. 

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Sam stated. Bucky nodded in a “yeah, sure, whatever you say” way. “Now, get down there.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

...

Sam planned to stick to his word, even if Bucky didn’t have that same plan. So, the next night when Bucky sat down next to Sam on the couch, fully prepared to repeat the events of the night before, Sam stopped him.

“So, we’re actually gonna talk?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Sam responded. Bucky groaned and not in the way that normally made Sam’s stomach flip. “This is really fun, and I really care about you. But, um, I want more.”

“More?” Bucky asked. 

“More,” Sam confirmed. “I want a real relationship.”

“Oh, so you want to stop this so that you can get into a real relationship.”

“What? No, of course, not. I want a real relationship with you,” Sam explained. Bucky’s eyes went wide, and he jumped off the couch and started pacing. Sam remained sitting. “If that’s something you’re interested in, obviously. And, if it’s about not being ready, I can wait until you’re ready. I just want to know if there’s any chance at us having a future.”

“There’s not,” Bucky said plainly, not looking at Sam. Now, it was Sam’s turn to stand up. 

“What?”

“Come on, Sam. We both know what this is,” Bucky told him, turning around to look at Sam. “We started this as a way to make me feel better after Steve, and you know it.”

“That’s not why I started it,” Sam replied softly and sincerely. Bucky let out a bitter laugh. 

“Well, it’s why I started it,” Bucky informed him. “That’s all you are, Sam. You’re just a replacement for Captain America, for the whole world, but especially for me. And you know that deep down all I am is a replacement for Riley.”

Bucky regretted it the moment it left his mouth. He had no idea what had taken over him in that moment. He didn’t believe any of those things. He cared so much about Sam, and the look on Sam’s face shattered Bucky’s heart into a million pieces. 

“I’m gonna go,” Bucky said. Sam nodded, but then his eyes went wide. 

“Wait, no, where are you gonna go?” Sam asked, worried. 

“Just for a walk,” Bucky responded. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Sam said, and with that, Bucky was gone. Sam flopped down onto the couch that Bucky picked out for their apartment. “Fuck.”

...

Two hours later, Sam was positive that Bucky was never coming back. He told himself that Bucky must’ve cut his losses and moved on. Sam fucked everything up, and he knew it. He felt it too. He felt like absolute shit as he sat in Bucky’s bed wearing the hoodie that Bucky always told him was his favorite of Sam’s. He was about to start crying when he heard a knock on the door. He got up from the bed, unaware of who could possibly be at the door.

“Hey,” Bucky greeted when Sam opened the door. “I forgot my key. Sorry.”

“No worries,” Sam responded, walking away from the door to let Bucky in. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and started walking towards his room. 

“It took me a long time to teach myself that I deserved love,” Bucky blurted out. Sam slowly turned around. “After a while, I really believed that I did. Steve, he, uh made me believe that I did. I wanted to die when I woke up. I deserved to die, but he told me that I was worth the world, and I believed him. I believed him, and then he fucking left me. He took that belief with him. If the only other person who believed I deserved to be loved left me, then I knew that I didn’t deserve anything. He fought for me, and then he gave up on me. I gave up on myself too.

“Then, um, I realized that he never fought for me. It was never for me,” Bucky explained. “I came to terms with that part of it. I still wasn’t sure about the whole ‘deserving love’ thing quite yet, but then there was you. You helped me when I was in my darkest place, and it wasn’t for you. You helped me because you wanted me to be better. Steve never did that. He saved me so that he could have me. You helped me because you wanted me to get myself back.

“I know that I deserve love, and so do you. You are the kindest to ever exist. You deserve to be Captain America, probably more than Steve did. You’re not a replacement for anything, and I know that I’m not either. I know that, and I’m so sorry that I let you believe anything else. If you still want, we can have a future together because as far as I’m concerned, there isn’t a universe where you aren’t in my life for the long run, Sam Wilson,” Bucky stated, finishing his little speech. He was looking into Sam’s eyes but Sam was just standing there not saying anything. Then, Sam broke eye contact by looking at the floor. 

“After Riley died, I never thought I was going to love anyone ever again,” Sam stated. “And that was okay because I thought that he was the love of my life. I know now that sometimes you’re lucky enough to have more than one great love in your life. I only know that because of you. I didn’t know it was possible until I met you.

“You’re not a replacement for Riley, and you never will be. I’m always going to love Riley, and you’re always going to Steve. That doesn’t mean that we can’t love each other,” Sam explained. He smiled. “I do, by the way. I do love you, so much.”

“Oh, God, I love you so fucking much, Sam,” Bucky said, face splitting into a grin. “I need you to know that you’re not less than Steve in any way.”

“I know,” Sam said softly. He took a few steps forward so he was closer to Bucky. He played with the hem of Bucky’s shirt. “You love me?”

“I love you,” Bucky whispered back. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“When did you turn into such a sap, Barnes?”

“The moment I laid eyes on you, sweetheart,” Bucky joked, but he gave Sam a sweet kiss on the cheek all the same. “What do you say, Sammy? Wanna consummate this new relationship?”

“I don’t think that’s how that works at all, but yes, I do,” Sam replied, chuckling lightly before leaning forward to kiss Bucky.

...

Several hours later,  Bucky was nuzzled under Sam’s arm in Sam’s bed. Well, he supposed that it was probably going to be their bed from now on. With that thought in his mind, he drifted into a deep sleep.

Bucky was back in his Brooklyn apartment in the forties. He smiled to himself as he looked around. Then, he saw a shadow in his old room. 

“Hello?” Bucky asked, moving toward his room.

“Hey, Buck,” a voice said. All of the sudden, Steve, young Steve, was standing in front of Bucky. “I missed ya, jerk.”

“You’re dead,” Bucky said incredulously. “You died.”

“This is very clearly a dream,” Steve informed him. “It’s me, and I’m talking to you, but you’re asleep.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, please don’t.”

“I am sorry though,” Steve stated. “Extremely. The way I treated you was horrible, and I feel awful. I don’t regret what we had, I don’t regret our time together, but I also don’t regret my time with Peggy.”

“Okay.”

“I really did love you,” Steve said. “And I miss you more than words can say.”

“I miss you too, Steve, and I love you. I’ll always love you, but I really do think that it’s time to put you in the past,” Bucky stated, a tear falling from his eye. “It’s time for me to get my happy ending or middle or whatever. It’s time for me to live my life without you.”

“With Sam,” Steve said, a grin taking over his face. Bucky blushed. “I’m happy for you, both of you.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, voice just above a whisper. 

“I hope you have a very happy life, Buck.”

“I think I will,” Bucky replied, looking down at the floor trying to hide his smile. “I’ll see you on the other side, pal.”

“Hopefully a long, long time from now.”

...

Bucky woke up with a smile on his face, but that smile went away when he realized that Sam wasn’t with him in bed anymore. He rubbed his eyes and groaned before getting out of the bed. When he walked out into the hallway, he smelled food cooking. The smile returned. 

Sam was standing in front of the stove diligently cooking eggs just how he knew Bucky liked them. He was wearing sweats and no shirt, and Bucky’s heart skipped. He quietly walked up to him, wrapped his arms around his waist, and planted a kiss on the back of his neck. 

“Sleep good?” Sam asked, turning his face so that Bucky could kiss him. 

“Very,” Bucky responded against Sam’s lips. Sam smiled and Bucky kissed him again. 

“What’s got you so romantic this morning?” Sam asked, turning back to his eggs.

“Just love you is all,” Bucky explained, tightening his arms around Sam’s waist and hooking his chin over Sam’s shoulder. 

“I like hearing you say that,” Sam whispered.

“I like saying it,” Bucky whispered back. “I’m sure I’d like to hear you say it even more though, sweetheart.”

“I love you, old man,” Sam said with a smile. Bucky rolled his eyes. He pulled away with a groan.

“Nah, you hate me,” Bucky joked, sitting down at the counter. Sam rolled his eyes and put the eggs on a plate for Bucky.

“If I hated you, would I go out of my way to make your disgusting ass over easy eggs?” Sam asked, putting the place in front of Bucky.

“Maybe,” Bucky pouted. Sam raised his eyebrows at him. “Fine, maybe you love me.”

“Mhm,” Sam responded. 

“Hey,” Bucky said, grabbing Sam’s hand before he went back to the stove to make his own breakfast. “I want to have happy mornings like this for the rest of our lives.”

“I can make that happen,” Sam said, planting a kiss on top of Bucky’s head. 

Call him crazy, but Bucky thought that he finally met his soulmate. In fact, he knew it, and he knew he was going to have the happiest life with Sam. 

[hrina]

And They Were Roommates

A semi-crack fic featuring bi!Reader x female!OC and awkward Harry

Written for #majorharry20k

Disclaimer: I have no idea how washing machines work. I don’t know if this is even plausible. Just go with it. Also, im very bisexual, so I’m not fetishizing it or anything. Just thought I should mention that too. I intended this to be about 1k and it ended up being 

 Prompts:

1 – “that’s by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done”

3- “our water bill is going to be through the roof after this”

23 – “Great. I’m soaked.”

To Cass: Hi. You don’t know me, and I prefer to stay anonymous (I’m not the butterfly anon I promise). I’ve been following your blog for a while, since you were a 5sos blog, and I love your writing. I do write, but until now I haven’t written for Harry. Your prompts inspired me. I’m so happy you reached 20k, you deserve it. Hope you enjoy <3  

“It’s broken.”

“Wha’d’ya mean it’s broken?”

“I mean broken. Doesn’t work. No longer functions. How many definitions do you want.”

Harry shakes his head in disbelief. “How on Earth do you break a washing machine?”

In his disbelief, he misses your and Val’s faces turning red.

“I guess- maybe- we put too many clothes in?” Val stammers.  “The landlord will fix it though right? Isn’t it in our lease agreement?” 

Harry shakes his head again. “I’m pretty sure we’re responsible for our own broken appliances.”

“That’s a shit deal,” you jump in for the first time. Harry’s eyes land on you. A couple beats pass, enough for it to become almost awkward. His gaze is intense up until the moment he breaks the silence.

“Yeah, well, we weren’t exactly master negotiators when we moved in. The rent was so low we figured it was worth it.” You’ve heard the story of how Val and Harry became roommates many times from her. How they had been put together for a group project at school, but neither had wanted to meet at their own place, so they ended up always meeting at a coffee shop. How they had become fast friends, meeting up for coffee after the project was over, and opening up to one another about how campus housing had screwed them over. Harry had complained about living with boys, how they were messy, never cleaned up after themselves, ate all his food, and most importantly (and disgustingly) left used condoms everywhere. He had basically been the house cook and maid for the majority of the year. 

Val’s roommates, well, they weren’t outwardly homophobic, but it was little jabs at her that added up over time. Cliché comments like ‘you don’t want to date me, do you?’ and things like being okay with being undressed around each other, but getting weird around Val. By midterm first semester, she had been sleeping in your room more times than not. You would have let her move in, but understandably, your roommates weren’t too happy about another body in your already-too-tight room. So, after the first year of housing was over, Val and Harry had pooled funds and with a bit of luck, mixed with the fact that Harry’s stepdad knew a guy, they managed to find a cute little apartment not too far from the school. An apartment that they lived in to this day, three years later. 

Although you were over there quite a lot (who wouldn’t prefer an apartment over campus housing?), you and Harry had never really become close. Sure, you two would be in proximity during group outings, but you spent most of your time there in Val’s room, and whenever you were in the kitchen or living room, Harry seemed to be busy in his room. You originally thought he didn’t like you, but when you asked Val about it, she assured you that he liked you just fine, though she acknowledged that he was a bit weird around you sometimes. It only got worse after the time he had accidentally walked in on you and Val.

You and Val had a very close relationship – but you had both agreed you were better off as friends. But friendships can have benefits, can’t they? Besides, the times you hooked up were scarce – only when you were both in between partners, which, admittedly, wasn’t very often for you. The time Harry had caught you was right after you had broken up with your boyfriend after finding out that he had been seeing another girl. You had been angry and frustrated, and in need of some sort of release. Val, who rarely dated, was willing to help out. 

You don’t think Harry had seen much, but you had only realized that he had seen something when you heard the bedroom door slam. After that, he had had a hard time meeting your eyes. You couldn’t for the life of you understand why though, he certainly wasn’t a blushing virgin himself. You had been there to see off quite a few of his one-night stands trying to sneak out in the morning. 

To be fair, you were also usually there for the same reason, just a different roommate. The difference was instead of sneaking out in the morning, you’d stay for the day. And usually the following night. And sometimes even the night after that. Val had told you that given the amount of times she slept at yours during the first year, you were entitled to stay over whenever you wanted, and Harry didn’t seem to mind. There’d been quite a few times when you’d arrive at their apartment late at night, drunk out of your mind, to borrow some of Val’s clothes while you slept on their couch. The washing machine came in handy, as you could normally throw your clothes from the night before in with one of their loads. That was actually how you and Val discoveredotheruses for the washing machine. 

It really had been a complete accident. You and Val had gone to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer, but there was still two minutes left on the machine. Instead of leaving and coming back, you and Val elected to just wait it out (because if you left there was no question that you’d forget for the next couple of hours). You sat down in the only chair in the room, so Val decided it was a good idea to hop onto the washing machine itself. Turns out it was a good idea. The second her ass landed, the machine started rattling worse than before and her face contorted into pleasure. You jumped up, for a second thinking she might be in pain, before she used an arm to push you away, signaling that she was okay. 

“What’s going on?” The confusion was clear in your voice. In lieu of an answer, Val just looked up at you, her eyes dark. One of her hands came down to rest between her thighs, supporting her body weight as the machine continued to buck. Realization dawned on you as she let out a groan not dissimilar to one she had let out with you a couple hours earlier. Her hand that wasn’t supporting her came around the back of your head, dragging your lips to hers. 

That day had started something for you two. After it, you and Val spent a lot of time in the laundry room. It had become almost a routine, every time a new load went in, you and Val would stay in the room for at least 15 minutes longer than you needed to. If Harry noticed, he didn’t say anything.

In the next couple of months, the routine became more of a tradition. Clothes in the house were cleaner than ever. Loads gradually progress from just lights and darks to six different categories: light delicates, dark delicates, light regulars, dark regulars, denim, and sheets. The more loads, the more time you guys had. Normally you took turns, with one of you lending the other a hand (no pun intended), but this time, Val had gotten so worked up, that she jumped up with you. Apparently, the weight of two girls plus the stress of constantly running had been too much for the old machine. It sputtered, and then shut off. You had glanced over your shoulder, hoping that maybe the cycle had just ended, though you knew it was too early. Your stomach sank as you saw the knobs frozen halfway through the cycle. You and Val stared at each other with wide eyes. And that’s how you came to be where you are right now, trying to find a reasonable explanation for Harry as to why his washing machine is broken.

Which, by the way, is much easier said than done. As his green eyes bore into you, your mind scrambles to think up an explanation, but you’re drawing blanks. You look over at Val for help, but she looks just as lost as you are. She does a better job of putting on a confident mask though. 

“D’you think you can fix it?” She asks Harry. You see it for what it is – an attempt at deflection. 

Harry snorts. “Sure, let me just use my many years of mechanical experience to – oh wait.” 

“Ok wise guy, at least you used to be a baker?”

Harry stares at her. “What does that have anything to do with a washing machine?”

“Because ovens …?”

Harry continues to stare at her. 

“Could you at least take a look at it?” You jump in. His gaze turns to you. For a moment, you worry you’ve offended him, before he bows his head in a slight nod and steps to stand in front of the machine. 

“Ok, well, first off, how much of your laundry do you have left?” 

You think. “Well, I think we were only halfway through the third cycle, so-“  “Woah woah woah wait hold on.” Harry stops you. “Only? Third?How many cycles were you planning on doing?”

“Uh,” You count in your head. “Six?” You look over at Val for confirmation, and she nods. 

“Six?!” You suppose you understand Harry’s incredulity. In hindsight, six might be a bit excessive.  “Why on earth would you need to do six cycles?” This time, he directs it at Val. 

She flounders to come up with an excuse. “Uh, well, gotta sort colors, you know…” She trails off

“Yeah but six loads? What, do you guys get off on doing laundry or something?” He says it sarcastically, but both your and Val’s faces instantaneously turn red. 

“No.” He whispers. Neither of you answer. You start studying the pattern of tiles on the floor. “What, is this like a- a laundry kink? Is that even a thing?” Val’s head snaps up. “No, dumbass. Laundry kink is not a thing.”

“Well sorryfor assuming having sex in a laundry room means- “

“Oh for God’s sake we weren’t even having sex!”

“Ok well getting each other off – “

“We weren’t getting each other off!” That seems to stop Harry short. He gives Val a questioning look, encouraging her to go on. 

“We- the washing machine- it,” she stumbles over her words. “Y’know it- vibrates?”

“No.” Harry drags his hands down over his face. “There’s no way you two have been using our washing machine as a vibrator.” 

You look up, guilty expression all over your face. 

“That’s gross. This is by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done, and Val, that’s saying a lot for you. Guys, I do my laundry here, I want my clothes to be clean- “

Val tries to defend you two. “We clean up! Also, I thought most straight guys loved the idea of two girls- “

“I’m not most straight guys. Also forgive me if I’m not too keen on the idea of my roommate and her girlfriend in the laundry room – “

“Wait girlfriend?”

“Yes?” “Do- do you think we’re dating?”

“Well, aren’t you?” “Harry no.” The corners of Val’s mouth tug up in a smile, as the tide of embarrassment starts turning in her favor.

“Guys? Maybe focus on one problem at a time? We kind of have a bigger issue.” You step in, gesturing at the washing machine. 

Harry turns to you. “So you’re single? I mean-” He looks back and forth between you and Val. “You both are?” “Yes? But like (Y/N) said, bigger problems.” Val pats the washing machine. “Weren’t you about to take a look?”

Harry takes a couple more seconds to respond. His gaze holds yours once again, before he shakes his head as if to clear off cobwebs and starts examining the washing machine. 

You look over to Val to see her staring back at you. You widen your eyes comically and lift your eyebrows. She shakes her head in a silent laugh. You have a feeling in years to come, you might be able to look back on this and laugh, but for now, the mortification is still strong. 

“Okay,” Your attention snaps back to where Harry’s crouched down at the side of the machine. “I think it might be a problem with the water. It might be blocked or something.” As he talks, his hand comes to rest on a metal tube feeding into the back of the machine that you assume the water runs though. “So if we call a repairman tonight, they should be able to be here by-” And then, the tube slips. You don’t know if it’s due to the pressure of Harry’s hand, or if it was going to happen anyway and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but whatever the reason, it slips. And a jet of water starts to spray out of where it was. Soaking everything around it. Including Harry. He splutters and stumbles back, but it’s too late. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and his white shirt has become see through. He looks down, assessing the damage, and then stares back at you two helplessly. 

“Great. I’m soaked.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” Val tries to stifle her laughter, but doesn’t do a very good job at it. After a few beats, you can’t help but to join in. After everything that’s happened, the emotional rollercoaster you’ve been on of stress and mortification, it feels good just to laugh. 

Harry stares at the two of you for a few more seconds in mock annoyance, before he also can’t help but join in. Soon enough, the three of you are in stitches over just how ridiculous the situation actually is. 

As your laughter dies down, the sound of dripping catches all of your attentions. Your eyes fall to the place that had previously been spraying out water. It had died down so it wasn’t spraying, but there was still a steady, albeit thin stream of water coming out. 

“Our water bill is going to be through the roof after this.” Harry doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s just making commentary, but you feel guilty anyways.

“I’m so sorry guys. I’ll foot half the bill. And I can pay for the repairman-”

 Val cuts you off. “Don’t be stupid. This is just as much my fault as it is yours. More so, even.”

“No but still, I should pay for-”

“(Y/N).” It’s Harry that cuts you off this time. “Seriously. Don’t worry about it. This is our apartment, our bills.” His voice holds a warm tone you’ve never heard from him, and it’s enough to make you pause for a moment. 

“Please guys, let me pay for at least half the water bill and half the repairman. It’s only fair.”

“There’s two of us and one of you. How is that fair?” You throw up your arms in exasperation. You already knew how stubborn Val could be, you just didn’t realize how much Harry shared that trait. “Okay, fine. One third the water bill, one third the repairman. Please guys. I’m literally begging you.”

They glance at each other seeking silent confirmation and share a knowing smirk. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say they were teasing you.

“Okay, fine.” Val relents. “One third the water bill, one third the repairman.”

You heave a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Val smiles at you. “Ok, I’m going to go find the repairman’s number. There’s one on the fridge, right Harry?” Harry nods in affirmation, and Val heads out the door, pulling out her phone in the process. 

Then it’s just you and Harry. His wet shirt clings to his body, showing off his sculpted figure. You had always noticed he was objectively good looking, but now, with his body practically on display in front of you, you had a newfound appreciation for his looks. 

“If I knew you were that keen on paying, I would have started coming out with you guys a long time ago.” “Hm?” Harry’s voice snaps you out of the trance you didn’t know you were in. He raises his eyebrows at you. Shit. He definitely caught you staring. 

You quickly try to divert the subject. “So the only reason you weren’t coming out with us was because you’re a cheapskate? And here I was thinking you just didn’t like me.” You try to joke, but it falls flat as his expression turns serious. 

“You thought I- Oh God. I’m an idiot.” He shakes his head.

“Well what else was I supposed to think, what with you avoiding me and all.” You try to keep your tone light, but even you can hear the accusatory undertones slipping in. You hadn’t thought you were bitter, but now facing it head on, you realize you might carry a bit of resentment. 

“I never avoided you.” You give him a look. “Okay, maybe I avoided you a little bit. But it wasn’t-” He cuts himself off. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry I gave you that impression. I never meant to make you think I didn’t like you.”

“Well, it’s hard to draw any other conclusions when you get avoided,” you laugh self-deprecatingly. 

“I know. And you’re right. I’m sorry. I never really thought about it that way.” You lift your gaze to hold his steadily. You want an answer, and you intend on getting it. “Then why did you avoid me?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I-” He glances at you, and seems at a loss for words. You look at him expectantly, waiting patiently for him to talk. He sighs again. “Look. You deserve an explanation. But it might take a second, and I’m,” he gestures down at himself. “I need a shower. And a change of clothes. And I need to gather my thoughts. Can we talk after?”

It’s not the answer you expected or wanted, but you nod. The disappointment must show on your face though, because Harry grabs you hand before you can turn away. “(Y/N). I promise after I shower I’m all yours.” His eyes meet yours again, but this time there’s a heat behind them that wasn’t there before. You’re pretty sure this is the longest conversation you’ve ever had with him, and the most amount of physical contact as well. All at once, it’s slightly overwhelming. Your voice seems stuck in your throat, so instead of responding you just nod. He gives you a slight smile, and with that, he’s brushing past you, out into the hallway, and you’re left standing in the laundry room, wondering what the hell just happened.

You still feel a bit dazed 15 minutes later, as you’re sitting on the couch in the living room when you hear the shower shut off. You quickly close the app you were playing around with on your phone as you glance up. Harry emerges in only a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s like a vacuum for your eyes, drawing them towards him so you can’t possible look at anything else. He stands there, neither of you saying anything until – 

“You have three nipples?” 

He blinks, seemingly caught off guard, before his brain catches up with what you said. “Huh? Oh, four actually.” 

“What? No way,” you gasp.

“Uh-huh,” he nods. “See look – one, two, three, four,” He counts, pointing them all out individually. 

“I didn’t even know that was a thing people had.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m unique like that.” He grins at you, and you roll your eyes, even as a smile breaks through on your lips. 

“Are you going to get dressed, or are we having the talk like this?” You ask.

“Oh, right. I’m just gonna-” he points vaguely in the direction of his room and stumbles off. He emerges a minute later, in a tee-shirt and sweatpants. It’s an outfit you’ve seen him in a million times before, but this time, it hits different. 

“Ok, ready to talk?” You ask. 

He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “Um, actually, there’s something I think I need to talk about with Val first.”

You give him a pointed look. “Harry.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. It’s just part of my explanation involves something having to do with her, and it wouldn’t be right of me to tell you without asking her first, and-” You cut him off by holding your hand up. 

“Ok. Fine. Just make it quick, please.” 

He looks relieved. “Yeah, of course. I’m really sorry again.” He turns around as talks, speaking to you over his shoulder, and promptly almost runs into the door frame. He shoots you one last embarrassed look, as he heads out in the direction of Kate’s room. You laugh and shake your head as you pick up your phone to reopen your game.

It’s about half an hour later when Harry comes back into the living room. You glance up at him, unimpressed, and he winces at your expression. “I’m sorry it took so long, I just had to explain some things to her.” “You’ve been apologizing an awful lot lately, Harry.”

“I know. Hopefully I won’t have to after this.” He crosses the room to take as seat next to you on the couch. He tucks one foot under his knee, so he can turn his body to face you. In response, you curl up and face him as well. 

He takes a deep breath. “Okay. There’s a lot I have to say, and quite honestly I’m really nervous about it, so I would really appreciate if you would hear out my whole story before saying anything.” You nod in agreement, and he takes another deep breath before starting.

“I want to start by saying I’m sorry.” “I thought you said you wouldn’t apologize anymore.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t interrupt me.” He fires back. You blush, and gesture for him to continue.

“I am, sorry, is the thing. I handled the situation entirely wrong. Looking back, it’s super obvious that the way I handled it made me seem like an asshole.”

“I didn’t think you were an asshole.” Harry gives you a look. “Right, sorry, shutting up now.” 

A half smile takes over his face, smoothing out his previously serious features. “I did seem like an asshole. It was only because I didn’t want- No wait. Okay. Let me start from the beginning.

“I knew who you were before we met. Val had told me about you. I met Val about a month after you met her, and at that point, she had a crush on you. That’s what I had to go talk to her about just now. She told me her crush faded right after that, and she thought I knew, but I thought that she liked you all this time. I knew you guys had dated other people, but I guess I thought that she was waiting for you or something? And then that one time I walked in on you guys, I just assumed that you had finally gotten together.”

“Harry.” His eyes snap up to yours. “I’m sorry, I know you said no more interruptions, but Harry, I already knew Val liked me. She told me as soon as she got over it. That’s why we started, y’know.”

He stares at you. “What- you mean- oh come on. Val conveniently forgot to mention that bit. I swear to God, that girl just wants to watch the world burn sometimes.” You stifle a giggle. Sounds like something Val would do. She likes to make Harry squirm.

Harry shakes his head. “Okay. Right. Anyways,” He pauses. “Do you remember the first time we met? When the three of us went for coffee?” You nod your head in affirmation. “The first time I saw you, I thought you were the most gorgeous girl I’d ever seen.” Your eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t say anything. “You made me shy and nervous, which had never happened before, and hasn’t happened since. And then we had that conversation about music – remember you told me you wanted Stevie Nicks to be your sugar mama?” 

You nod, smiling. “You said you wanted her to be yours too.”

“Right yeah. Basically, I was a goner after that. But I thought Val liked you, and me and Val had just started becoming really good friends, and I really liked her, and I didn’t want to do anything to mess up the friendship. I told myself it was just a crush and I’d get over it soon, but well,” He spread his hands. “I never really did. And then I thought if I distanced myself, it would go away. But that didn’t work either. Also, when I like someone, I’m like, really obvious about it. And I didn’t want Val to know, so again, distancing myself seemed like the obvious choice. And in hindsight, it was a really bad idea, because it makes total sense that you’d interpret it as me not liking you. So. Here we are. I don’t not like you. Pretty much the opposite.”

“Sooo,” Your eyes sparkle. “What I’m hearing is. You have a crush on me.” 

Harry groans and drops his face into his hands. “Oh God, I’m seriously starting to regret it. You’re just as bad as Val.”

“We’re best friends for a reason.” You pause. “What does Val think of all this?”

Harry smirks. “I’d say she seems fine with it. If I remember correctly, she said something along the lines of ‘go get that pussy, you oblivious dickhead.’”

You laugh. “Sounds like something she’d say. I hope this doesn’t mean you’re expecting to get in my pants, Styles.” 

He grins. “Wouldn’t dream of it, (Y/L/N). Not yet at least. Was thinking of taking you on a date first.”

That makes you pause. “A date, huh.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking bashful all of a sudden.

You pretend to think about it. “Would you avoid me the whole time?”

He groans as you burst into laughter. “God. You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Probably not,” You agree. 

“Well fine. If it’s like that, maybe the washing machine will take you on a date instead.”

You gasp. “That’s a low blow, Styles.”

He smirks at you, and you reach over to shove at his shoulder. Before you make contact however, he catches your hand, and uses it to pull you closer to him. He glances down at your lips and then tilts his head, a silent question. You answer by leaning in. But before your lips can touch, the sound of the door slamming breaks you two apart. You look over to see Val in the doorway. 

“Well isn’t this awfully cute. Harry, I never thought you’d go for my sloppy seconds,” she laughs. 

Harry stares at her, then looks at you, then back at her, and then back at you. “Please, pleasehold that thought. I’ll be right back; I just have a roommate to kill.”

“Be my guest. She’s most ticklish at her waist.”

Val’s eyes widen. “No Harry, you know I’m too ticklish – ARGH,” she cuts herself of with a scream as she runs off as Harry launches himself off the couch after her. 

~*~

PLEASE i loved this okay 🥺🥺 bi!reader rights babey!!!!!!!!!! we love 2 see it!!!! i think my fav part was val calling harry an oblivious dickhead nsfjdnsjnsn bc honestly he rly is. i think this was very well done and i just wanna say thank u for following me for so long!!! like damn you’ve been here a while huh……………..i luv u. amazing job babes!

[daggerzine]

Sunday Runners.....the Corvair interview.

The music of Corvair fell into my hands recently thanks to Heather Larimer, who makes up one half of the band. The Portland duo, comprised of Larimer and her husband Brian Naubert (and drummer Eric Eagle for the recordings) haven’t been around for too long but being together a lot the past year or so gave them plenty of time to work on songs. I was a big fan of Larimer’s previous band, Eux Autres, and wondered if they were still around (see the first question) so was anxious to hear Corvair. I really liked what I heard. A healthy dose of all things 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s and not quite new wave, note quite indie rock but 100% deluxe. The S/T record, which was released in February, was a co-release between their own label and WIAIWYA label in the UK.  Read on and find out the history of the band, where they’ve been and where they’re headed. Oh and make sure you listen to their music.

 Heather and Brian and Brian and Heather 

Tell us about the end of Eux Autres. Why did that band end?

It actually has not officially ended. While Sun is Sunk was coming out, we left SF because it felt like that city as we knew it was dying—all the artists we knew were moving out, and I moved back to Portland and Nick to LA. Then I had a baby and then Nick had a baby and then soon we each had another baby. With 4 little kids among us, it became really hard to fly back and forth to work on new material. We tried it for a couple years and then one day we calculated that at our pace, the record we were making would take 5 years. So we just kind of gave each other permission to prioritize other projects. Nick is working on some songs I truly love right now. They’re a real gut punch.

 …and about the beginning of Corvair. How/when did the band form?

We had known each other for many years and then we got married three-ish years ago and suddenly neither of us had other musical projects going on. So we kind of shrugged and said, what if we worked together? We would sing in the car or while cooking or whatever so we knew our voices sounded great together. Then it was just a matter of figuring out what sort of project it would be. We went into the studio with a session drummer (Eric Eagle) in late 2019 and then a few months later, the pandemic suddenly gave as a LOT of time to make progress on the tracks. So the creative center of the record was defined in a weird apocalyptic bubble. But it was helpful to have that break with reality as we knew it, because we’ve both made a lot of records, and I suppose that could have somehow blunted our ambition or our edges. But we just hit the “fuck it” button and gave ourselves over to it completely. We were very nervous to mix, because no one else in the world had heard it, and we thought it was great, but we also could have been in a shared hallucination. Really, we’d be the last to know.

 The debut....

Who came up with the name? I have always loved those cars.

Brian’s mom drove a Corvair with a hole in the floor. They would drive it on the special outings to the beach, the weekend adventures. So it was a very romantic car, and the name is just very nice to say. It makes you feel good. Both of us had been in bands with names that were a nightmare to tell someone  in a crowded club, or really anywhere (Eux Autres and Ruston Mire). You’d have to repeat it 3 times, then explain it, and then they just kind of shrug with pity. We vowed to have a band name anyone could understand the first time.

 Did the WIAIWYA label approach you about releasing the record (or co-releasing it)?

John had approached Eux Autres right after our second record and so we did an EP (Strangled Days) with him and then we were on his label ever since. Late last summer, I posted a picture of Brian and I holding the CD Master on my Instagram and John said, what the hell is this? And then I emailed him the record and he wrote right back: “It’s RAD Heather!” I’m not sure if he was making fun of me by saying “rad”--probably, actually. I think I used to say it a lot. But he immediately wanted to put out the record. Nick and I had some really great times in the UK and Europe thanks to John and he has a very devoted audience, so Corvair felt it was a great fit for us.

 Is the Pink Room your own studio?

Yes, it is literally a room in our house that is pink. Brian has been making records at home for most of his life, since he was about 14. And despite having done fancier stuff like making studio demos for Columbia several times and recording with Peter Buck in a nice place, he really prefers to work at home because he likes to spend a ton of time on overdubs—they’re not even really “overdubs,” more like a second wave of writing for him. And I had found being in the studio very stressful in the past because I’m not a technically proficient musician and that makes me self-conscious. So I was grateful to be in the privacy of my own home, in my soft pants.

 Single from last year

Did the songs on the album come fairly easily or did you feel like you labored over them?

The initial writing of them came very easily and fast. Brian did a couple of 30 day writing challenges where he wrote several songs a day. But then once we laid down the basic tracks, we spent a ton of time building them and experimenting with them. We actually recorded probably twice as many parts as we ended up using. And half of what we did in the mix was kill things. In fact, we cut five totally finished songs from the record. 

 Tell us about making those videos? Were you freezing?

Consistently very very cold, yes. Ironically, the one in the snow (Green Mean Time) was the warmest because we were properly dressed. But the ocean ones were just brutal. Especially Sunday Runner. The video was Brian’s idea, he had a very specific vision and made it sound all easy: OK, just go down to the beach and dance for 90 seconds. And I was like, huh?!? And then I kept falling down and got absolutely soaked to the bone. When we finished shooting, I couldn’t feel my hands or feet and he was steering me down the beach with his coat wrapped around me and these little kids were staring horrified, like, Mom what’s wrong with that lady?

 Prior to the pandemic had you played out live much? Done any tours?

We have never ever played live as Corvair. Which is just wild. We will likely be recording this next album before we even have a line-up for performing. But we are very excited to play together. Likely this fall. Hopefully John will bring us to England soon so we will have a great excuse to get it together.

 What are your top 10 desert island discs?

 Brian:

David Bowie - Ziggy Stardust

David Bowie - Low

Nada Surf - Let Go

Brian Eno - Another Green World

Pink Floyd - Dark Side of The Moon (yeah I know, but I don’t care)

 Heather:

GBV  - Alien Lanes

Kinks  - Village Green

Elliott Smith - Either/Or

Radiohead - Kid A

Ruston Mire - Steady Jobs and Flying Cars

  Who are some of your favorite current bands, local otherwise?

HL: I’m interested in the Dry Cleaning juggernaut. And I really dig Deep Sea Diver, Cloud Nothings, Courtney Barnett, Big Thief/Lenker. And then, I’m also very ready to embrace a new angry band whose music makes you think your stereo is broken when you play it--I’m taking suggestions.

 BN: Alt J, Elbow, Doves, Metric, Foals, Snail Mail

 What’s next for the band?

HL: We are recording this summer and trying to put some sort of live outfit together ASAP. Trying to stay out of the ocean for a while. 

 Closing comments? Words of wisdom? Final thoughts?

Thank you so much for having us! 

 www.corvair.bandcamp.com