#no we need to make up a new man to talk to instead

[musicmyxiii]

I don't think we talk enough about the fact that in season 1 & 2, Colin didn't have a purpose and didn't feel fulfilled so he travelled and at the end of each season he left his family, only to go travel and realize that he missed his family (and Pen), and to return home a couple of months later. He felt not at ease anywhere he went, not at home, not travelling. He was always moving to find this peace, and sense of belonging.

What kept him sane during the long period he was gone (between season 1 & 2), was Pen's letter's. They reminded him of home and whenever he read them he knew he should return, and that she would be waiting for him. But then a year later, Pen didn't reply to his letters anymore. The poor boy had no idea why, but he assumed it was because she didn't need him anymore. The validation he sought and needed was gone.

He thought he wasn't good enough so he turned himself into the man society expects him to be: a playboy, a tough guy. Where in truth he simply just wants validation from the people he cares most about (again his family). Pen is the only person who gives him this validation throughout season 1 & 2, which makes it more heartbreaking when she doesn't reply to his letters. It's like she's moving on from him and doesn't need him maybe as much as he thought she would.

A part of Colin always knew that Pen adored him, looked up to him, maybe even loved him. He brushed it off as merily friendship, but deep inside him he knew it was more.

So when he returns as a 'new man' in season 3, he's looking so much for validation again. He wants his family to praise him for the changes (and Anthony does - which still makes me a little mad, because as an older brother he should have seen it was not Colin who returned and he needed to remind his brother that the family wanted his true self back). He goes up to Pen and when she doesn't seem impressed by his new self, he basically says: "It are just clothes, I'm still the person who I was a year ago" and instead of welcoming him back with a bright smile and friendship, like she did the last year, she gave him nothing but coldness. (Which was honestly the right thing to do since he still hurt her last season, and I wouldn't be able to forget about it that fast either)

Colin realized that something was wrong and instead of ignoring it and just letting go of Penelope. He fought for her and her forgiveness. He started to realize that her friendship, her warmth meant everything to him and make him feel 'seen'. What was exactly what he desired most, being wanted, being needed, being enough.

We finally see him realize that Pen has been his safe place all along, he lets her in and falls head over heels for the girl.

She encourages him to do something with his writing, to find purpose in it and because she believes in him, he's starting to do so as well.

Of course, then the lady Whistledown shakes him up. Who could blame him after his history with Marina? This boy has clearly still trust issues because of it. He fears that it's the same thing all over again, and that he was led on to believe that Pen loved him while in truth it could be that she just needed him as a way to remain Lady W. He was afraid of losing her, of being lied to, of being not enough once again.

But once he starts seeing things from her perspective and realizes that she does love him for all the right reasons, he becomes so incredibly proud of her.

At the end of the season, he's finally found a purpose, a reason to stay, and so he doesn't need to travel anymore. He created a family. He found his forever home and he has no desire whatsoever to leave it.

[notmyneighbor]

r&d | yog sothoth x female reader

part 3/?

words | 3.3k

cw | tnmn nightmare mode, eventual smut, no explicit content in this chapter, vampire bite

ao3 link

taglist | @jazminetoad @kaislashes @lakeside-paradise @paxispax @luvvxsn

“I thought you increased the dose.”

“I did. She shouldn’t be awake this early.”

You recognize one of the voices, but the other is foreign. It sounds like Dr. Afton is speaking, but that makes no sense. You’re not at the apartment building. You’re in the DDD facility. The trial. You struggle to open your eyes. Yes, that was indeed the third floor resident you’d heard. His eyes are focused on your features, narrowed behind the lenses of his glasses, brow furrowed.

“You said this one showed promise.”

“She does. None of the others have been able to tolerate the treatment while maintaining focus and sanity in this reality and, even more impressively, perfect job peformance.”

You blink slowly. Your eyes feel gummy, your lids trying to stick together. You try to find the owner of the other man’s voice but he’s out of your field of view. You can’t find the strength to turn your head, your limbs weighted like lead.

“You do realize ‘perfect job peformance’ indicates that the project is a failure if none of the doppels can convince a doorman to let them in, don’t you? How do you think that will translate into real world applications? There has been too much time and money invested in this already. I’ve got the General breathing down my neck. We need results, not promises. I’m still not convinced this new side project is going to amount to anything.”

“That’s because you’re not a scientist. You have no sense of creativity, of imagination, of patience. We are doing great work here. Pioneers of feats no one else has been able to achieve. Think of what will happen when we’re able to establish a permanent link between the two realms, when we can inhabit both. Twice the territory to conquer.”

“You’re assuming the doppels there are going to be able to be useful allies, when you don’t even have full control over the ones we already have. We shouldn’t have shared their development when it hasn’t even been proven reliable yet.”

Afton waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Nonsense. It’s been more than a fair exchange for the tech we’ve received in return. And we’re getting there. Each new unit dispatched has been showing improved progress. And the rogue ones are being dealt with accordingly.”

“How do we know the inhabitants of that other realm don’t intend to turn on us and just take over here instead?

“Imagine if everyone just surrendered because of some vague doubts. You military types are so cynical and narrow minded. You’re only to happy to reap the rewards of these trials, but you don’t want to actually get your own hands dirty.”

“My men have risked plenty,” the other man growls.

“Yes, yes. I’m not implying sacrifices haven’t been made,” Afton hastily attempts to placate the other observer. “I’m merely saying this venture requires some unconventional thinking and unusual techniques that some would question the ethics and morality of. Shortsightedness, that’s what they’re cursed with. Cowardice, really. What we’re doing here is reshaping our future. Changing our destiny,” he concludes, the fervor evident in his voice. You’ve never heard the man speak so much. He’s usually so quiet and introverted. This entire conversation you’re witnessing feels surreal.

“And what about the visitor?” This last said with clear disapproval.

“What about him?” Afton snaps. You see a blurry image of liquid being drawn up into a syringe, then hear it set down on a surface nearby.

“We should be talking elsewhere.”

“I’ve told you, the experiment’s minds are wiped clean after each session. You can talk freely.”

You bristle internally. Experiment? Is that what you are? What the hell is going on?

“I don’t trust him. He has too much unrestricted access.”

“That’s not your concern. Your superior has cleared him, and so have I. He’s been an invaluable asset in this latest project.”

“I don’t like you keeping secrets, Doctor. Not when it puts my people’s safety at risk.”

“Fortunately for you, you don’t need to like it. Your duty is to serve in the military and obey your commanding officer’s orders. I relay all necessary information to you. Besides, the rest would just be a bit too technical for you to try to comprehend.” His lips twist in a half smile that seems more condescending than reassuring.

You realize there’s something tucked into your hand. It’s difficult, but you manage to uncurl your fist. The researcher’s eyes catch the movement and flick down. He lifts the object before you have a chance to react.

“What’s that?”

Afton’s lips curve into a smile that’s sincere this time. “That, my friend, is progress. She’s been able to bring something back.”

“How?”

“I told you this one was special. You’ve got some progress to report, now,” he says smugly.

You squint, trying to discern what the man is holding. You don’t understand half of what’s being discussed. Maybe you’re dreaming. You must be. Some wild fantasy your brain has concocted. Stress relieving itself and manifesting in the form of this bizarre scenario.

A padlock. That’s what is pinched between Afton’s fingers. A slight ache resonates in your chest. There’s something important about it. You raise your arm, your fingers stretching for it. It belongs to someone you know.

“I told you she should be kept restrained until she’s transferred.”

“Relax. She’s still lethargic and as weak as a kitten. A little more Midazolam mixed into the cocktail and this will all be forgotten.” His hand closes over your wrist and pushes it back down. You can’t resist, the limb weakly succumbing, once again secured in a restraint. “Time for another nap.”

This is alarmingly familiar. You try to struggle against the bonds that have just appeared, but it’s no use. Even speaking takes great effort. Your tongue feels swollen and dry, clumsy. “That’s not yours. Give it back.”

“I’ll keep it safe, not to worry. It will need to be analyzed.” He drops the padlock into one of the deep pockets of his lab coat. “What a little wonder you are,” he murmurs softly as he leans closer. You feel a sharp pain in your arm and tears pricking the corners of your eyes. That needle felt all too real. You could even smell the scientist’s aftershave when he’d gotten closer to you just now. This vivid imagery can’t be made up. It has to be real. Which means…which means…

“Yog,” you murmur drowsily as the injection begins to take effect. That’s who the padlock belongs to, though you can’t quite put a face to the odd name.

“What did she say?”

“Nothing. Just babbling nonsense. She’s almost knocked out again. Tell your commanding officer I’ll have a full progress report ready by tomorrow.”

“Yog,” you manage one more time, trying to cling stubbornly to that word, but it slips free and you are lost, sinking down, down, into a void of nothingness.

***

“You know the drill.”

Oh. You’re back here. Again.

The hazmat suited cleaner on the opposite side of the window turns to leave but you halt him, slapping a hand on the cracked window’s surface.

“Hey, wait. Don’t leave yet. I want to talk to you.”

Silence meets your request. The DDD employee exits the entryway of the building and you sigh in frustration, glaring at the quartet of eyes watching you from the frame. You’ve half a mind to try poking one just to see what would happen.

“Hello, human.”

One of the twin sisters, this one as pretty and pale as the counterpart in your own world, is standing before you. She’s called Anazareth here.

You look closely at the trio of tattoos on her features, quickly counting and recounting the number of horns on her head. Accurate so far. She’s on the list and she has all her documents.

“Did you have a successful day of creating curses?” You’re not really making small talk. You want to see her teeth again.

“Yes, very satisfactory.” Sharp teeth. She’s the real deal.

“Go on through.”

You unlock the door and then seal it shut. You wish you could retain more of your memories. You’d gone back for your third appointment so willingly, so blindly, walking right back into Afton’s trap. And now here you are, the memories frustratingly clear in this world, lending you no aid for when you return to your own reality. There has to be a way to counteract the effects, somehow. A way to trigger the release of memories when you return home.

“You’re back.”

You look up and sigh again, this time in relief. The friendly vampire rests a hand against the smudged, battered glass and you match your palm to his.

“Hi, Yog.”

You hit the switch and let him inside without even pausing to check his documents first, exiting the booth just as Yog reaches it. You both hesitate for a moment before you surge forward and his arms envelop you.

“You didn’t check my ID and request,” he chides gently.

“I knew it was you.”

“Still, you should be careful.” His fingers stroke your hair. “Did it work? The jewelry…”

“Yes, it worked. Afton took it away, though. To study it.” You burrow into his shirt. There is a musky, earthy smell to him that is pleasant. “I heard him talking to someone from the military. They’re trying to find a way to establish a permanent connection between both realities. I think I’m the first one from my world who’s been successfully managing to exist in each one. It sounded like the other ‘volunteers’ haven’t been so fortunate.”

“So that’s what he’s after. And that explains where the other human visitors went.”

“He said someone came from here originally. That’s how they found out about it in the first place. I don’t know who, though.”

You feel Yog stiffen. “If I had to guess, I’d wager it’s his own counterpart.”

You draw back to look at the vampire. “Orcus? The purple guy wearing that battered mascot suit with the silver eyes? I’ve never seen that resident in person, only the picture on file.”

A knocking sound interrupts your conversation. Another resident is at your window. Lilith, now. The other twin sister. You spot the spelling error of her name immediately and call the DDD to collect the witch. The same tired rhetoric on the phone and in person. You don’t even bother trying to communicate with the cleaner this time.

As soon as he leaves, you turn your attention back to the vampire. “How much do you know about Orcus?”

He folds his arms across his chest. “Very little. He’s not social. Neither is his roommate. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn his ‘skinning’ activities aren’t what one would consider in the traditional hunting sense, though,” Yog murmurs.

You shudder at the term. “If he’s not stealing skins, what else is he after? Using bodies for something? A kind of experiment?”

“Maybe. It could be whatever Afton has been injecting you with to transport you here. That technology must have come from Orcus. Something he’s learned how to harvest.”

Another visitor interrupts again. Abducius Morail. You have to remind him to show his ID card. The entry request looks fine. He’s on the list of expected travelers. Seven stitches hold the skin where his nose should have been closed. The stretched eyelids creep you out to no end. And that smile. You shiver and return his card through the slot, buzzing him in. If he has an opinion on your security booth hosting a guest today, he doesn’t reveal it, merely slipping through the entrance, still grinning manically.

“So what do we do? I can’t remember anything when I get back. I keep getting tricked into coming here over and over again.”

Yog frowns. “I’m not sure. We’re up against more than just Afton and Orcus. The military is involved. And there’s still the doppels to deal with, too.”

“Which Afton help create. And gave that knowledge to Orcus. This is such a mess. I’d be better off not remembering any of this.”

“I don’t think you mean that,” the vampire says quietly.

“No. I don’t. I’m sorry, Yog. I’m just frustrated. Scared. Angry. A lot of things.”

“Completely understandable.”

“You’re the only good part about all of this, you know that?” You let your fingers drag across one of the red velvet bands decorating his shirtsleeve.

“You have another visitor.”

You glance at the window. Xezbet Xerbeth. The soul eater. Another resident with a menacing grin. Twin pinpricks of red are all that reside in dark eyesockets. The skin around the suture lining his balding head looks pink and raw, as if the incision had been made recently, while the scar on his cheek looks older, better healed. Not on the list, so you call to verify that he’s not at home. Drugia answers, confirming this. Everything else checks out. You open the door and then close it behind him, very aware of the resident hovering close behind you.

“I hope I’m not distracting you.”

“You’re not. I mean, you are, but. It’s good. I like it. I like you,” you add softly.

“Come see me when you’re done? I’ll be alone again.” His fingers brush your cheek.

“Okay.”

Yog bends to kiss the side of your neck, his lips grazing your throat and making you gasp. “I wouldn’t drink without permission. I take that very seriously.”

“I know. You have it. Except…it will make my time here shorter.”

“Good point. Later, then.” The vampire slips out of the booth, leaving you alone again. With those stupid eyes judging you.

***

You’ve survived another shift in the nightmare realm.

You’re standing outside Yog’s apartment now, more nervous than ever. Things are changing between the two of you. Exciting. Dangerous. What possible good could come of this? Your fingers touch the place he’d bitten you a week ago. No marks left.

It wasn’t a one way path. Orcus came through. Yog could, too. Maybe that was the key. An ally on the other side.

The door opens after you remember to knock. You duck inside, lingering by the door after he closes it.

“You looked deep in thought just now.”

“I was thinking about Orcus. His ability to visit. Wondering if you’d be able to. If it’s even possible. If it’s safe. If you’d want to,” you finish softly, your eyes lowering shyly.

“I think about you when you’re not here. Wondering how you are, what you’re doing.”

“It’s not fair. I can’t do the same. Stupid injections,” you mutter bitterly.

“I know our time together is short. So I want to make the most of it.” He reaches for one of your hands. “You want to come with me?”

You swallow thickly and nod, letting him lead you forward, deeper into the apartment. No living room stop today. You’re guided to the master bedroom. Yog releases your hand and turns on a lamp. Every window is encased in shutters that look like steel with ruby drapes over them. The same color scheme as the rest of the living space is evident in this room, too. Dark sheets and pillows. Dark dresser.

No reflection in the mirror. You’d forgotten to ask about that, the last time you’d run through the standard vampire lore questions. You stare at your image and feel his arms come around you, can see the subtle shifts in the clothes you’re wearing as his hands move, stroking across your arms, your hair stirring when he nuzzles your cheek.

“Is it hard to get ready without having a mirror to see what you look like?”

You feel his lips smile against your skin. “It takes getting used to, certainly.”

You turn in his arms, siphoning though the dark rust colored locks. “You manage pretty well.”

“Pretty well, hmmm?”

Last time you had barely brushed his lips as you’d slipped back into your own realm. Now his press firmly to yours, and your pounding heart races even faster. You can feel the sharp points of his fangs when you lips part for him, your tongue gently prodded as you explore each other’s mouths for the first time. He tastes good. Almost like cinnamon. Not metallic like you’d thought he would.

“I want to be very clear with you,” he murmurs between kisses, “that I am a gentleman and I will not force myself on you in any way. I don’t have to feed. We don’t have to…”

“Fuck?” You supply breathlessly.

A sharp inhale. “Well, yes. I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Crude?”

He shakes his head. “Naughty. I like it. Let’s get more comfortable.”

You step out of your shoes and sit down on the edge of the mattress and the vampire follows suit. His pale fingers drag over your cheeks and trace your lips and then the golden eyes are shuttered beneath a fringe of closed lids and sooty lashes as he leans, pressing you down beneath him. His mouth travels along your jaw and neck and collarbone, shifting the neckline of your work blouse to reach the stripe of bone rising beneath the skin. He samples your wrists and you wonder if he can sense how swiftly the blood is racing through your veins; if he hears it rushing like a river rapids, filled with that strange glowing substance gifted from his neighbor to one of yours that he finds so tantalizing.

His lips crush yours and you feel the intensity picking up, the neediness of each touch as he massages one breast. Your hand trails down his shirt, dipping bravely over the growing bulge in his pants and you’re rewarded with a moan of warm air above your mouth. Aurelian eyes gaze into your own. “When I take you, if—”

“—When,” you correct, your head lifting to nip at his bottom lip, and he smiles at you.

“When,” he agrees. “I don’t want it to be rushed, because of someone else’s dictates.” The vampire kisses you again. “And I will come to you, if I am able. I do want to,” he says, finally answering your musings from earlier. “We’ll figure this out together,” he promises.

“I don’t know how much time I have left. I don’t want to forget you again,” you whisper.

Yog sighs against your throat, his hips rolling languidly, pressing against your body. Such a cruel tease for what you both really want. You cup the back of his neck, holding him there, indicating what you desire.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

A sweet sting, unlike the needle Afton is so fond of using on you, and the vampire’s mouth seals against the punctures he’s created. It’s over nearly as soon as it’s begun, the creature taking less of your lifeforce this time.

“You didn’t feed as much,” you observe out loud.

“Being cautious,” he murmurs, head lifting, eyes watching your features.

“Keeping me here longer.”

His lips twitch. “Maybe a little of that, too.”

“Let me taste it.”

Yog hesitates. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Its already in my bloodstream. What difference would it make?”

“I don’t know.”

“Kiss me.”

The vampire’s cheeks and lips look flushed, rosy, healthy. You’ve done that. With so little sacrificed, you’ve brought about such a change. If only the bite marks were something you could bring with you. A keepsake Afton couldn’t take away. Something to make you remember.

“Kiss me until I disappear.”

His head lowers and he kisses you very gently. Nothing. You don’t sense any difference in the flavor on his lips. Your tongue darts out and your mouths join again. His body grinds against yours as the kisses grow more frenzied.

“This is maddening. I don’t want you to leave,” he groans in frustration, head dipping into the space between your neck and shoulder.

That strange, rocking, drowsy feeling is coming again. You’re being drawn back to your own reality.

“Yog,” you say warningly, and his face immediately reappears above yours.

“Don’t forget me,” he pleads, his mouth pressing against your lips, and then empty air.

You’re gone.

[brucewaynehater101]

Ok so in reverse Robin aus I hate when Tim becomes redhood bc it’s really ooc for him, BUT Steph becoming the black mask after the incident but struggling with the business part (she is smart business is hard) and Tim becoming her right hand is in fact in character for him

seeing as he would not be obsessed with a dick Grayson who despite his murderous tendencies was light, and kind, and Jason who was all Robin gives me magic 😀

but instead Damian who is just as gritty as his father and a bitter Steph?

yep timmers would have a looooot less morals and a lot of money, and the second Robin needs HIS help? He is there!!!

(I don’t see him helping Bruce at all bc in canon Bruce’s grief for Steph lasted like two pages)

Oop. Your ending note is fantastic.

Let's add on, shall we?

Here's some tropes I don't prefer in Reverse Robin AUs:

Tim becoming Red Hood (Tim stealing Jason's shtick again is hilarious in the regular timeline). I will read a good fic with Tim as RH, but I prefer Tim to be Joker Junior, a completely new identity, or an Oracle-like identity.

Batman's partner being named "Robin" (that was Dick's identity he got from his parents. They should have another name)

I personally like Duke being the first one Batman adopts. Maybe Duke's parents get gassed in an alley in front of Batman, and Bruce decides to adopt Duke. The kid can still have his whole gang, and that's how Bruce decides to train Duke instead. Not sure.

Anyways, this could play into the AU you mentioned.

Damian moves on from his mantle, but Duke is still there. Steph, who Duke and Batman meet when she's Spoiler, agrees to fill in Damian's vacancy.

Tim meets Steph on the streets. He would be older than her in this. Your choice on how fanon it is (does he stalk Bats from a young age to take pictures of them), but I like the idea that he sent in cases he solved or tips he heard about.

When she dies, Damian comes home, and Duke is still there. Damian doesn't return to his previous mantle, but he's around. He's actually talking to Bruce again. Bruce thus doesn't grieve her much.

Tim doesn't see a need to step in.

Tim grieves his friend (or gf if that's your preference). Perhaps he goes abroad for a bit to distance himself from the city. There's bound to be some international programs his parents would like for him to take part in. Perhaps he still gets that Lady Shiva training. Dealer's choice.

After a year or two abroad (and if he got training, he learned from more teachers), Tim hears news about someone trying to rival Black Mask.

Since Black Mask took Steph from him, he sees this as a possible chance for revenge. He returns to Gotham.

I don't know if Steph would take up the mantle "Black Mask," but I could see her taking up a moniker that would mock the man (like White Veil, Lilac Cover, or something).

During her time "dead," she ends up getting training. Not sure who'd train her, but she learns more than Bruce ever taught her. Perhaps Helena and her end up chatting?

She's clever, and her father helped her knowledge on the criminal workings of Gotham. She utilizes her skills to gather people on her side and make them loyal to her (by providing great worker benefits, ig).

Tim offers his services to her gang without knowing it's Steph as the head (he plans to ruthlessly use them to get his revenge). Dealer's choice on whether Steph immediately lets him in or doesn't trust him (due to trauma with her death and shit).

Tim does some of the business and intel gathering. He occasionally goes in the field as well. Steph is the main brawns, gang director, and manager. She knows how gangs work, what her people really need/want, and how to manipulate the playing field. Tim can learn these things and suggest moves to Steph, but leaves decision-making to her.

Bruce, due to not knowing Tim, hasn't had the chance to instill tension between Steph and Tim. They have issues like all relationships, but they work it out. There's nowhere near the amount of shit there is in canon.

Maybe Tim's parents are dead by the time Steph gets back. Either way, I hope Crystal learns that her daughter is alive again

[eddiediazismyhusband]

God I wish I could be positive like other anons that said that for them 7x04 is the biggest confirmation buddie is happening. Please ignore this if you don’t feel like consoling me about my pessimist rant. I was optimistic but 7x04 made me a pessimist.

I just keep thinking “if 7x04 was supposed to be about buddie why was not about buddie?

Let me explain: it was the perfect setup for starting buddie. You know how it’s a bait and switch. They could have just not switched. They could have had Eddie go to buck instead of Tmmy and have Eddie say “you’re irreplaceable” which would have been much more meaningful and then “you know I can have more than a friend, right?” And buck could have said “maybe i don’t wanna be your friend” and boom you have bisexual buck and can get rid of that old ugly man.

It was the perfect setup, you need to change literally ONE SCENE. I literally can’t find a reason why they didn’t do it. My BFF said “they couldn’t make them come out at the same time” but they wouldn’t have. Eddie could have rejected him and then spend s7 coming to terms with his feelings instead of the shit that happened. I don’t believe in the “it’s cuz it’s a slow burn” theory because 6 years is slow enough. I wanna be a truther so bad but ever since 7x04 I’ve been slowly losing hope.

I flip flop between being optimistic and pessimistic… to me i can see the vision of whst they were *trying* to do with 7x4 but with no chemistry and one of the actors being so inept at their job it just fell completely flat… it felt unearned in a way bc we have seen buck and eddie interracting for 6 years, and the entire episode was centered around buck pining for eddie’s attention (im sorry, there is not way any of what buck did in that episode was out of any interest in Timmy Turner) just to throw the curveball at the end. The point of a bait and switch is thay the switch has to be believable, and earned— but it wasn’t because you spent the entire episode talking about eddie. Why not have buck’s jealousy be solely “oh i hate Tylenol, he’s so ughh and i hate him and i can’t stand him” bc if it had been that i would be more inclined to believe that buck had some sort of unconscious interest in him.

but that’s not what they did, they made him go gaga over eddie the entire episode.

another thing they could have done to make the switch effective is actually given Tuberculosis a role within the episode other thsn to show up and kiss buck… like showcase him and buck interacting more… build sublte tension there that makes it believable that buck is attracted to him… don’t just shove him in a corner and leave him collecting dust (don’t get me wrong i am NOT campaigning for them giving that man more screentime in fact i want that man off my screen as soon as possible which should have been the end of 7x3)

so from a narrative standpoint… to have eddie so intrinsically linked to Buck’s emotional arc in 7x4, i can absolutely see the vision of trying to do the whole misplaced feelings thing… even if they didn’t stick the landing at all bc lfj’s face is so stiff from all the botox that he can’t emote to save his life.

to me where things start to fall apart is after 7x4…. they had the perfect opportunity for buck to have his arc in 7x5, “mess things up with Tiramisu” (even though i fully side with buck in everything that happened on that date, like bffr) and then end the episode with them deciding to no longer pursue a relationship because they want different things (buck wants a relationship but is still new to this, Tire-Iron is old af and just wants a boytoy) and have them part ways… but they decided to double down on the relationship, having Buck invite a man he has known for 5 minutes to his sister’s wedding and then proceeded to make the wedding about buck??? that’s where the writers truly lost me. especially after they spent the first part of that ep establishing that Tricycle is nothing but dismissive and condescending to Buck just to make the whole wedding scene about them??? there was no need for that cringe-ass kiss (even if it had been a buddie plot point that kiss would have made me cringe bc the way it was written was so fuckin corny and also we waited too damn long for the madney wedding for it to be about someone else).

then ofc there’s the medal ceremony where we once again see Tuberculosis being dismissive of buck, and then 7x10 where he steamrolls over buck trying to have a meaningful conversation for him to just make a fucking sex joke…..

like i keep flip flopping back and forth bc i KNOW that T-rex has no substance as a character and no personality whatsoever beyond kissing buck, but i don’t understand why they’ve kept him around this long? There were plenty of opportunities to end things between them… 7x10 had a golden opportunity to solidify buck prioritizing bobby/eddie over his relationship and having Trampoline get upset and move on?? 7x9 could have had Bobby tell buck that he didn’t think Tablecloth was a good partner for him, comparing her to Abby and Taylor.

He was nowhere to be SEEN in 7x7

There could have been a moment in 7x6 where Eddie and Buck had a heart to heart (not even to make buddie go canon in that ep, but for eddie to point out that Truckstop doesn’t seem all that interested in him— hell or even hav HEN do it??)

After the entirety of 7b my trust in Tim has dwindled down so severely that I genuinely am trying not to form any expectations from s8… like i am fully prepared to just be disappointed again.

That being said I do think there is still so much potential for them to fix the mess quickly if they actually put in the time and effort… my issue is that idk if I trust them to fix the mess or just make it worse.

Plus if the same thing happens with s8 as s7 where they get renewed early on, that runs the risk of Tim changing the story yet again and dragging out plot points that don’t need to be dragged out.

Like it has fully been 6 seasons. Booth and Brennan were together by then, there is no reason buddie needs another full season…. especially after they’ve given themselves yet another wide open road to give us eddie coming to terms with his feelings; whether they go down that route or try to rehash shannon again is yet to be seen…

i saw someone else on here say something (and i cannot for the life of me remember who said it so full credit to that person for this quote) but it was along the lines of (and this is SEVERELY paraphrased) “tim made the choice to kill of shannon. if you wanted her to still be around then you shouldn’t have killed her. you made the choice, so stick with it.” and i feel like that applies to a LOT of the character regression/retconning we saw in s7

so i’m still in that boat of until they actually make the show good again, I’m gonna sit and wait because it’s not worth getting my hopes up and stressed about something that may not even happen bc the writers love toying either our emotions more than they love telling the story the way they themse have set it up to be told.

(also this applies to the show as a whole, not just buddie, there were so many plotlines in s7 that just careened into the realm of melodramatic soap opera to me in a way that was so ooc for the show… what happened to the little procedural dramedy? why is the cartel here committing arson? why are there pirates attacking a cruise ship in an arc that lasts all of 5 minutes? i miss the s2/3/4 era so badly (yes, say what you will about s4 but i enjoyed that season) and i really thought we were going to be getting that back in s7 (and pirate plot aside, eps 1-3 showed promise, and tbh aside from the kiss at the end 7x6 is one of my favorite episodes of the show in general, but as far as the season as a whole it just fell so flat for me)

[goodolddumbbanana]

I think the show is trying to make a comparison between Nexus - Dark Sun Vs Moon - Sun.

We can see in the several last episodes, Nexus shamed Moon for his thousand backup labs and him leading Dark Sun around and in the end, Dark Sun stayed in Nexus's lab to "looking around".

And this episode, Moon shamed Nexus for his terrible blue prints and dragged Sun around to see his lab. Sun after that ended up left behind to see Moon's lab too.

Both claimed to be tech-guys with different yet the same reasons.

Both think the others sucks and talk trash about the others with the animatronic names Sun. (Nexus called Moon a creature and Moon called Nexus a disappointment)

Both feel amazed by Sun's magic and try to think of some way to use it.

Both are aware of Suns no longer who they know and try to earn both Sun's affection.

Both make Suns go silent to keep the atmosphere stay civilised.

(Dark Sun and Sun both feel uncomfortable when they see a Moon talk bad about the others but they both keep their mouths shut for their own benefits. Dark Sun hides it better than Sun)

There are a lot but right now this is what I only think about.

Sidenote: something about the Old moon is a very intelligent and calculated man who knows what work needs to be done and not who has a terrible temper that only goes off to Sun but never tries to kill his family on purpose.

(He finished pretty quickly the lore on Tsams and has a well known knowledge about what happens while New Moon needs it to be installed in his head.)

Vs the New moon who totally lives off on his impulse and some advanced AdHd version of Lunar. The man who only sees things in front and never tries to see the bigger picture. Live in the present, get easily distracted, have a terrible temper but instead of focusing on one person like Old Moon with Sun, he literally goes out to the world.

The man who is right now, kinda hurts everyone except Sun. (I count cringe Lunar, too, sue me)

I don't know if there will be a fight Sun with Dark Sun and both of them will use magic or something...

I just like to see them hang out man...

I crave Sun-Dark Sun duo man....

[meekoftheweek]

**SPOILER WARNING FOR "SLAY THE PRINCESS"**

I know I said in my post from earlier that I didn't want to put anything out there that might be spoilers but I'm going more in depth because I can't just let these thoughts go away

the thing that resonated with me about this game and its characters and themes was the portrayal of gender roles and the way that they manifest in heterosexual relationships

now, I know that seems like weird connection to make and a bit out of left field but let me explain

we can start with a quick summary

you play as "The Long Quiet", who is told by his inner consciousness to seek out a princess, who we eventually discover is "The Shifting Mound"

Now, we have a man being told his only purpose has to come through a woman by his inner conscience, a predisposed expectation thrust upon our main character. Even worse, when attempting to leave this incredibly confined chain of events, the world collapses, unable to function without this key part of his destiny.

If we look at just the names of our two main characters, we can see that they fit nicely into the old fashioned problematic gender roles of men and women in a heterosexual relationship.

"The Long Quiet" never speaks a word throughout the game, his only form of communication is text based or inner monologue and although this may just be a tactic by the developers to make him more relatable to a wider audience I have trouble seeing this as non deliberate.

Although great progress has been made, men still struggle with talking openly and honestly about their feelings, dealing with the inner conflict of trying to tough things out and deal with their problems on their own and with their own experiences and wisdom instead of speaking up and asking for help. This is why the voices are such an important part of the story, they each represent a branch of possible advice for Quiet, a different perspective - commenting on what should happen next.

It is only through the use of the mirror that these inner voices dissapate, leaving us room to think about ourselves and the decisions we have made free of expectation and worry. It shows our true self and the consequences of our action, no good or bad biases.

Next, we get to "The Shifting Mound" dummed down and objectified as simply "The Princess" - already indicitve of the themes of pre assigned gender roles and ideas. We, as Quiet, in our very first run are encouraged to make a choice - kill or save the princess. It is through following the path of blind devotion and saving her without a second thought that we arrive at the path of The Smitten, a new voice that emerges within us that wants nothing more than to blindly love the princess for all of eternity. This kind of unhealthy attachment is directly addressed by the other voices and when we interact with the princess, she is shown to both physically and mentally simplify before our very eyes. In the mind of The Smitten, the princess is nothing more than a cardboard cutout, a vaugely womanly shaped being without an ounce of depth or meaning, and this is exactly what she becomes, through the conversation with her, she slowly begins to lose all of her meaning, loudly proclaiming after every question you ask that all she wants to do is make you happy - this eventually reaches a breaking point in which this is all she can say. becoming truly emotionless and void of any possible sign of humanity in order to fill our selfish idea of love.

this ties into her name and her role in the game - she's labelled as "The Shifting Mound" and depending on our choices - In another word "us", she will change her form and personailty in order to fit our expectations. This ties into the problematic old fashioned expectations of women to change themselves to fit the wants and needs of men, which cruelly removes them of the ability to genuinely express and be themselves. It is only through repeatedly exploring the different versions and facets of the princess that we eventually learn to truly love her, all of these parts must be accepted - the key to a healthy relationship being a mutual acceptance and understanding of both people involved - free of the societal expectations that bind the way we think and percieve one another.

this is why this game resonated so much with me. these beautiful themes of being more than your label and breaking free from the monotonous loop of holding yourself back in the case of Quiet or changing yourself in the case of Mound for the sake of your significant other I feel is a really important and valuable message, no mattter who you are.

anyway rant aside go play this game it's really good!

[shiny-crocodile]

the best person i've ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7

CHAPTER 8

chapter summary: doctors and dress up

chapter notes: got a certain request (many many times) for something to happen again, so here you go x

smut

The next day was not what either of them particularly wanted out of their one day off together in London.

Lucy had a whole plan to visit some markets, followed by a fancy dinner but instead they were forced to spend it in a hospital waiting room with Tesco meal deals, accompanied by Peter the Barça physio.

After last nights conversations, Lucy and Ona had their first “girlfriend reveal” trial run with Peter. Lucy peered over to him after the younger girl pecked her on the lips before making her way to the vending machine for more snacks. Peter barely bat an eyelid.

As Lucy’s name was finally called after an hour of waiting, she hobbled after the doctor on her newly acquired crutches, leaving Ona behind for this solo trip to the scanners.

“Break a leg!” Ona called after her, making the older girl laugh, calming her nerves massively. You never quite got used to the overwhelming feeling of dread going in for scans.

As they expected, the news wasn’t good. Ona squeezing Lucy’s hand reassuringly as they were told Lucy would need to have surgery and that the success of the surgery would determine the length of the recovery period.

The World Cup was in 2 months and a potential Champions League final was in 1 month, an incredibly tight turnaround, which everyone in the room was hyper aware of.

After making a few phone calls, Peter returned to offer up some options for next steps.

“So where do you want the surgery?” Peter asked.

“Her knee preferably,” Ona joked, both girls cracking up but Peter staying stern faced.

“Sorry, she’s full of jokes today, what do you mean?” Lucy asked, hand stroking Ona’s leg.

“Well we have great doctors in a number of places where you can have the surgery, as long as you are back in Barcelona in one week for rehab,” Peter explained, “the UK? Spain?“

Lucy looked to Ona before answering, who nodded, the two communicating with looks alone. “Manchester?” Lucy asked, turning back to Peter.

“Sure,” he said, standing up to make more phone calls.

“Nurse Batlle, at your service. This is going to be fun!” Ona said, weirdly excited at the thought of doting on Lucy.

Lucy sighed, not sharing the excitement, but she could think of one concilation, “as long as you dress the part I won’t complain.”

////

A couple of days passed, Ona was pacing up and down the corridor after giving Lucy all the good luck kisses before she was wheeled off.

Using the hospital as her runway for heavy footed nervousness, she quickly started to annoy the hospital staff.

“Well fancy seeing you here,” Ona heard from behind her while mid-pace.

“Staniiiii,” Ona exclaimed as she threw herself into her friend’s arms.

The pair hadn’t seen as much of each other since Lucy moved from Man U to Villa, and as the person who helped Ona settle into the UK, the Spaniard was beyond thrilled to see her again.

“Did Lucy call you?” Ona asked, slightly surprised as when Ona had offered to call her mum, she said she didn’t want to be around anyone like this, so it was unusual if she was actively reaching out to friends.

“Yeah but I am under strict instructions to only be here when the surgery was happening,” Lucy said, guiding Ona back into the hospital room and into one of the chairs. “Wanted me to keep you company and stop you worrying. Clearly it was needed with you pacing the halls like a madman.”

It was definitely needed and Ona felt instantly calmer having this distraction, coupled with the warmth of knowing Lucy was thinking of her while preparing for surgery, responding, “she knows me too well.”

Time passed much faster now Ona had someone to talk to and catch up with, loving that she also had someone she could talk to about Lucy seen as though the other Lucy was the one person who knew everything about their relationship.

Lucy S couldn’t help but notice the difference in Ona from a few months ago, especially her need to mention the english right back every 5 seconds now.

“You really like her, hey?” Lucy asked. She knew how much her best friend liked the Spaniard, but she hadn’t really gotten to see the other side until now.

Ona nodded shyly, “big time. It’s honestly kind of terrifying.”

The younger girl received an understanding stroke of the arm, “of course it is. It’s always scary opening yourself up to someone. But it’s always amazing and rewarding, and honestly, I’m biased because she’s one of my favourite people but there’s truly no one better to let yourself fall for than Lucy.”

Ona couldn’t stop from grinning. Her friend always had a way with words and hearing her talk about Lucy like that was everything.

“Oh apart from my wife,” Lucy corrected, both girls breaking into laughter.

//

A couple hours later, with the surgery done and dusted, Lucy was wheeled back into the room, completely out of it and packed full of drugs.

“Stanniiiiiiiii!” Lucy slurred as she saw her best friend. “What you doing here?”

The Villa player moved over to the side of the bed, squeezing Lucy’s hand while laughing slightly at the state she was in.

“You called me you donut.”

“Oh yeah,” Lucy said, letting out a high pitched giggle that no one in the room had heard before. “You look after Ona?”

“I did, she’s all good,” her best friend said. “How are you feeling?”

Lucy was too out of it to even notice that Ona was actually in the room, who stood out of the way, chuckling away as she gave the old friends a minute.

“Gooooooood, it’s a shame we’re athletes because drugs are so good!” Lucy slurred out, earning a laugh from everyone in the room including the nurse.

Lucy was starting to drift off now to sleep, but not before dragging out, “thank you for looking after, you’re the best friend. I really love her and I love you for your matching. I love…”

Lucy was gone to the world, the surgery and the drugs making her so tired she closed her eyes and instantly started lightly snoring.

Lucy S turned round to look at a blushing Ona. “She’s not said that to you before has she?”

The younger girl could only shake her head. She knew Lucy was drugged up but she still couldn’t help having a lump in her throat at the older girl’s confession. She made her way over to the bed before placing a soft kiss on her girlfriend’s temple.

“Naw,” Lucy S said, “well I’m off before this gets even soppier.”

The Villa player spun around, grabbing her bag and cheek kissing the Spaniard goodbye.

“Blowing my own trumpet here, but you’re very good together. Look after my girl and let her know I’ll message tomorrow,” Lucy said before both girls blew a kiss to each other and parted.

The younger girl gently shifted her Lucy onto her side to stop the snoring, before sliding in behind the taller girl on the bed, taking the role of big spoon for once.

Mouth near Lucy’s ear, she whispered, “I love you too,” knowing that Lucy wouldn’t hear or even register it. She placed a kiss behind the older girl’s ear before closing her eyes to nap with her girlfriend.

////

“Oh my god? What are you wearing?”

Lucy had been discharged from the hospital and was now resting up at Ona’s. She had to be back in Barcelona tomorrow for rehab, which she was absolutely dreading, knowing the short turnaround between now and the UWCL final, and then the World Cup.

But she wouldn’t let her mind worry about that now. Not when she was faced with the stunning sight of Ona in a full nurses outfit.

“Are they blood splatters?” Lucy asked, unable to stop herself from laughing.

“Shut up, it’s from Halloween,” Ona said, strutting further into the room. “Now stop laughing, I’m trying to be sexy.”

“Oh baby you don’t need to try,” Lucy said, heart racing as she tried to compose herself, sitting more upright in the bed to fully take this in.

The white and fake blood splattered cropped top showed off her abs perfectly, while the low v was always going to be what Lucy’s eyes were drawn to, Ona’s nipples poking through the fabric.

Ona did her best sultry strut as she flicked her hips, Lucy’s eyes now fixed on her upper thighs every time the skirt flicked up, making it abundantly clear the younger girl wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Lucy clenched the bed sheets to combat the throbbing between her legs.

“Oh Mrs Bronze, you look like you need some assistance.”

Lucy cringed, much to the confusion and offence of Ona. “My mum’s a teacher, let’s not do Mrs.”

“Ah sorry,” Ona said before getting back in the zone.

“Señorita, you look like you need some assistance,” Ona said, the lip bite from Lucy showing her she was on the right track.

The older girl was getting wet at the show being put on for her, Ona sexily throwing off her nurses cap before slowly crawling up the bed towards Lucy.

“Wait,” Lucy said as the younger girl started pulling off her shorts, “you’ve looked after me enough, let me look after you.”

“Oh cari, you’re going to do more than just look after me,” Ona said, biting her lip with a look Lucy knew all too well.

It was the look Ona gave her when she was about to do her favourite thing to Lucy. Ever since the first time she found out Lucy never did it, she’s taken so much pleasure out of achieving it every single time she tried…

Shorts discarded, Lucy laid back, giving up before the Spaniard had even started.

Ona attached her mouth to the side of Lucy’s pelvis, drawing her first moan out of the older girl as she made a mark.

Sufficiently bruised, Ona lifted her head to look at Lucy, “hey, think you’re gonna want to watch this.”

Lucy did as she was told, pushing herself up, and Ona wasn’t wrong.

The younger girl had her arse pushed into the air, skirt no longer covering her now exposed cheeks.

Ona intently watched Lucy get more soaked at the site of her.

“Now keep watching,” Ona said, before taking her first lick up Lucy’s folds, humming a moan into the older girl’s centre that only made her wetter.

The English girl could barely compute what she was watching, the Spaniard’s naked bum bouncing up and down as she devoured Lucy.

If she could, she would have grabbed handfuls of her cheeks, but instead had to settle for handfuls of hair.

She could have come at the sight alone, but her girlfriend was going to drag this out until she knew the English girl was ready to give her what she wanted.

“Please,” Lucy cried out, so loud that Ona jerked her head up in worry.

The sight of Lucy only spurred the younger girl on. The older girl’s face and chest dripping with sweat, as Ona dealt with the dripping pussy.

She knew Lucy was ready.

Two fingers were inserted at once, quickly followed by a third to get the most insane scream from Lucy.

Ona didn’t even know a noise like that was possible from her girlfriend.

“Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna squirt,” Lucy said coming undone, Ona sucking on her clit but not removing her fingers to drink up the juices like she usually would.

“Ona?” the English girl managed to utter out, the fucking of her pussy and sucking of her clit not relenting.

“Again,” Ona growled, and like clockwork, Lucy squirted, but Ona still wasn’t lapping it up.

The Spaniard removed her fingers, drawing a moan as she spread the girl’s legs further apart, allowing herself even more room at Lucy’s pussy.

“Once more,” Ona instructed, pulling Lucy’s incredibly lips apart with her fingers to expose the girl’s sensitive clit.

“I can’t,” Lucy moaned as the cold air ran over her.

As if she hadn’t heard her, the Spaniard attached her lips to Lucy’s clit, giving it one last sharp suck as everything left in Lucy gushed out, Ona doing the lapping now, tears in her eyes at her own state of bliss.

“My girl,” Ona cooed, looking up at her destroyed girlfriend, “there is nothing I love more than that.”

“Come here,” Lucy said between breaths, leaning forward to pull Ona in by the stethoscope hanging round her neck, pulling her into a searing kiss.

Tongues exploring each other’s mouths as Lucy tasted herself.

Without needing to detach herself, Lucy used her strength to turn both girl’s onto their sides.

After days of barely moving, she clearly still had a lot of energy to use up.

The Spaniard, seeing Lucy could take even more, slipped her hand back down between Lucy’s legs, brushing over her tender entrance before easily pushing two fingers inside her.

But Lucy was determined to touch Ona now, not wanting this to be all about herself.

She mirrored Ona’s movements, drifting her hand under the nurse’s skirt where there was no barrier stopping her gliding her fingers between Ona’s folds.

Catching the Spaniard totally by surprise, both girls moaned in unison as Lucy followed in entering Ona, starting slower with just the one finger but both girls knuckles deep.

“Fuck Lucy!” Ona screamed out, struggling to focus on fucking Lucy while there were now two strong fingers pumping in and out of her, but she was nothing if not determined.

They copied everything each other did, while staring deep into each others eyes.

As Lucy curved her fingers to hit Ona’s G spot, the younger girl did the same.

As Ona brushed her thumb around Lucy’s clit, the English girl did the same.

Watching each other’s blissed out face made everything 10 times more intense, every moan 10 times deeper and their approach towards their peaks 10 times faster.

“Oh my god,” Ona moaned, feeling things she’d never felt before from the dual rush of fucking Lucy while being fucked. She was struggling to keep up the pace of her pumping while hurtling towards her own peak after being so worked up from the squirt show, “I can’t.”

“It’s ok. I’ve got you bonita,” Lucy said, more than happy to help Ona first, but neither girl was going to slow down.

“I love you,” Lucy let out, managing somehow to say it softly despite the cacophony of moans escaping both their mouths.

“I love you too,” Ona said, not quite as gently as both girls crashed through their ceilings, orgasms taking over at the exact same time.

They panted, both exhausted, with the come down accompanied by soft kisses and whimpers, before they slowly removed their hands.

Still facing each other, they both just lay there gazing at each other. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours, neither girl knew as they got completely lost in each others eyes.

“You said that in the hospital, you know?” Ona said softly, not breaking eye contact.

“Said what?”

“That you loved me,” Ona revealed, “when you were drugged up after the surgery.”

Lucy went red in the cheeks, obviously having zero recollection of that conversation. Now thinking of anything else embarrassing she might have said or done.

Ona could see the concern in her eyes, “don’t worry. It was very sweet. You are very sweet.”

The older girl leaned in to kiss her softly, eye contact breaking temporarily as they closed fluttered closed.

“Although you did say it to Stani straight after which kind of killed it slightly.”

Both girls broke into laughter, still perfectly in sync.

“Oh god, was she there? That would explain all the heart and vomit emojis she keeps sending me.”

Ona traced Lucy’s wide smile with her thumb.

“I love this smile.”

Lucy brought a hand up to do the same.

“Not as much as I love this smile, and this nose, and these eyes, and this chin,” the older girl said, brushing her digits over each part of Ona’s face as she declared her love for it.

As they went back to gazing at each other, before their staring competition was interrupted by a vibration, prompting both girls to peer over to Lucy’s phone, all lit up.

Lucy S - 🤮 💚

“It’s like she can hear us,” Ona said, turning around and pushing her back up into Lucy’s front, melting into the warmth of the girl she loved.

///

[theficpusher]

These High Walls (Fly With Me) by FallingLikeThis | G | 3907 Harry is a kidnapped young man trapped in a tower, all his beautiful hair cut off because of the last time he tried to escape. He’s stopped wishing to be on the ground because he knows it’s impossible. Now, his head is in the clouds. If you’re going to want something impossible, why not wish for the stars instead, right? And somewhere far away on a distant star, a fairy hears his wish. A Rapunzel/Peter Pan au.

If Only We Wish Hard Enough by lululawrence | nr | 5353 Before Harry let Louis know he was there, he gave himself a moment to just admire him. Truly take him in. Today, Louis was wearing one of his soft, simple green dresses that in many ways resembled the ones fairies often wore. Harry loved when Louis wore dresses. They showed off Louis’ waist and thighs more than any of his other outfits, and Harry loved that about them. “You know I can hear your wings fluttering so you aren’t fooling anyone,” Louis said before turning and looking over his shoulder. Or the five times fic where Louis is Peter Pan, Harry is his best friend Tinkerbelle, and it takes them awhile but they figure things out.

A Lost Hope, Found | nr | 9231 When Harry was 17 he realised that maybe fairy tales aren't always make believe. He came to this conclusion when abruptly woke in the middle of the night to find a boy standing on his window ledge, offering his hand. His mum had always told him to never talk to strangers let alone run away with one, but there was just something about the way the boy was hovering off the ground, his blue eyes dazzling that made Harry's heart flutter and his hand stretch out until he was pulled out of the window and too was flying. featuring Louis not in tights, Niall as a fairy that radiates happiness and Liam and Zayn as lost boys who really need to learn that brotherhood does not mean kissing each other every two minutes.

Flying Without Drowning by starscries | T | 12690 Louis has lost a lot of his Lost Boys, he and Zayn are the only one remaining. A new mermaid has showed up in Neverland and Louis is kind of curious about him, even though he won't admit it.

everything you do is magic [series] by jamesnaill | G | 12877 Harry has seen Niall do pretty much everything. He’s seen him heal trees, mend broken hearts and teary faces of the children who don’t get what they wanted for Christmas. He’s seen him give all kind of pretty colors to flowers and butterflies. He’s seen him dumping an entire bag of fairy dust on top of a tiny bird who was learning how to fly. Just as he’s seen him dumping the same amount of fairy dust on Louis’ head when he finds him snooping and messing around at night, then blowing as hard as he can to make him fly far far away. It’s all been pretty funny. Most times beautiful, even if at times confusing. Always mesmerizing and amazing. He’s never seen him quite like this. - Or, a Peter Pan AU where Harry is Peter Pan and Niall is Tinkerbell, whose health keeps getting worse as people say they don't believe in fairies.

An Awfully Big Adventure by JayseHasNoGrace | M | 27075 The old Captain Hook is tired. Harry comes along, near death, having become horribly lost and been abandoned by his crew. Hook helps him, but informs him that it is now his job to become the next Captain Hook. Oh yes — and he almost forgets to mention the persistent boy who is the ringleader of the Lost Boys. He explains the 'rules': that Harry (as the new Captain Hook) has to continue the everlasting feud with Peter Pan. Although there have been a long line of similar looking Hooks, Harry apparently doesn't look quite similar enough, and Pan notices. However, Peter Pan's identity might not be quite so straightforward either.

The Pirate and The Piper by jacaranda_bloom | E | 38396 Banished from Neverland by Captain Hook and the evil Siren Minerva, Louis is forced to live in the Other World. He makes a life for himself, resigned to the fact he’s never going to see his beloved home and Lost Boys again. Five years later he’s kidnapped and returned to Neverland, only to discover a far worse fate awaits him. But with an unlikely ally by his side, can he overcome those who seek his demise and restore freedom to his homeland? Or the one where Harry is Hook, Louis is Pan, and nothing is what it seems.

into that goodnight by devilinmybrain | E | 62801 Once upon a time, there was a boy. But not just any sort of boy. This was a clever boy, the cleverest of them all.

[rxttenfish]

Asking because I’m extremely curious about this, how did MonProm’s writing get different over time? I remember you saying that the lore and characters feel different, and that it's missing sincere character interactions, too. I know almost nothing about the lore and I’ve only seen a few people mention the characters, so I’d be interested in a rundown of what aspects you think got worse in the series

I wouldn’t mind a very long response since I’m not that active in the fandom, I need to catch up on what happened

sorry for taking so long to answer this! i kinda waffled on it for a long bit, mainly because i started doubting myself again, and whether or not this was me simply overreacting or being tinted by nostalgia or simply being extremely picky and choosy in what i like (the last of which is true, i seldom get into fandoms at all for this reason and stay away from most popular media, but i wasn't sure if it applied here). i've posted about it already, but i'm in the middle of a psychotic episode where i can't feel a lot of pleasure to begin with + most things i do experience ending up solidly in the "very bad" category, so as you can imagine, i really didn't want to mislead and check that i was actually in objective reality.

as it is, this is also when a lot more screenshots started to be posted in the monster prom tag, and that helped me bridge the gap back into returning to the games themselves and feel like i was making a more accurate judgement. if you're one of those people who have been posting screenshots, i sincerely thank you, and i appreciated seeing you in the tag greatly.

for those not in the know — i've been in the monster prom fandom since it first released, prior to even the first additional ending to be added (the "Punch the sun" ending, and i recall the minor fandom drama that happened at that time due to it). my impression of monster prom is very much influenced by this, as what got me into the first game was the fact that the characters genuinely seemed to care for each other and were friends with each other (not merely tolerating each other's presences nor dressing it up, they sincerely thought of each other as friends and were open about that fact), on top of the wide variety of small details and statements that, if taken at face value, could create compounding complexity in the lives of each and every character and had wider implications for their lives.

no, they were not necessarily explored nor even necessarily "real", with so many conflicting events and statements, but i liked this too, because it meant a wider flexibility in what you could imagine, helping to create a more tailored experience for everyone who thought about these characters. this was what i liked about the early fandom too. what was baseline "canon" was so vague and minimal that you could have wildly different interpretations of the same characters' histories and relationships with each other. you would have radically different perspectives on what the world itself looked like, what it was like, that there wasn't really any wrong answers so long as their personalities remained the same. this is where you got the old headcanon of polly and liam being childhood friends who knew each other as humans, or that the world of monster prom was post-apocalypse where humanity itself had gone extinct or only existed in tiny pockets, or my personal headcanon that both monster and human society existed right next to each other and had minimal crossover for petty cultural reasons. this was also prior zoe-as-ro, and there were wildly different interpretations of zoe's personality, with most going for a far more disquieting creepy-cute than the deep nerd we got.

this is why you get stuff like the timeloop theory, where everyone is repeating the same weeks leading up to prom over and over, and are perhaps vaguely aware of it but broadly unconcerned. this is also why it felt like the joke that, the characters were still in high school but were all fully legal adults with most in their 20's, best landed, because it was absurd and strange and didn't quite make sense, but the world itself was inherently absurd and semi-malleable to begin with. realistically, i felt like everyone understood it was making fun of the trope of having adults play teenagers in american sitcoms and wildly casting outside the age range, but for more in-universe explanations it wasn't any different from the way that you would have a large, dramatic ending in which everything changed, but then you'd restart and everyone would be right back at the beginning with nothing different, or even having conflicting events in the same run. it was a dream-logic that fit with the tropes and, thus, diagetically made sense.

to be clear, i don't mind canon having a set, well, canon on which it refers back to itself. i don't mind expanding that or including more things which are set in stone. but there was a perceivable shift in how the games handled this over time, becoming a lot more... bitter, it felt, towards all of these different branching ideas and concepts that, yeah, the people making them knew wouldn't necessarily be "canon" because "canon" already liked to contradict itself so much. most people weren't even sold on any one idea, and there was a much greater sense of enjoying and appreciating all the varying ideas people would come up with even if you personally didn't share them. making the characters be out of character was the real crime, because then it didn't diagetically make sense in the same way, didn't wholly fit.

(again, this is not to say fanon didn't happen and characters weren't smoothed down into a simplified personality that fit these varying fan-interpretations instead of the game itself. certainly damien love/lust was just as bad as it had ever been, and everyone loved to mangle his character into a more stereotypical "bad boy with a heart of hold" all the time. but it certainly felt less set-in-stone about it than it does now, with any deviation from the norm being considered strange and odd and even broadly shunned from the wider fandom.)

all of this is setup for establishing what the writing, lore, and characters felt like in the earlier days. the characters were the strongest part, with their relationships to each other being equally as important. the lore played it fast and loose and was far less interested in setting anything in concrete because that wasn't the important part. the lore wasn't the important part, which was what made it all the more intoxicating to think about, all the more fun to play with.

montrip is easily the biggest offender when it comes to setting everything in all-or-nothing terms and demanding absolutism from the world. broadly i blame the hitchhiker conversations for the worst of it, but i think ultimately the way they handled the entire premise of the game is where this problem stems from. it's not really an exploration in the same sense that you might explore the first game, discovering different perspectives and different people with different relationships to each other. it's an exploration in the sense of a sequel that over-explains the monster, that takes the most boring option out of all those that were possible and floating around and settles on something that was blatant, obvious, typically rejected not because of how novel it is but how trite and par for the course it is in the rest of the genre.

yeah, okay. humans know nothing about monsters and there's a "monster dimension" that exists separately from the human dimension. there's no crossover between the two of them. of course there's a big grand-scale fight between the eldritch powers that zoe used to be a part of, from which not only are slayers the main organization against them, but also the merkingdom has some horse in this race too. it's an urge to make things so universal in explaining them, in revealing connecting threads which unite everything that's ever happened in here, that makes the worldbuilding and lore immediately much more boring than it ever was before.

and it didn't have to be this way! nothing in the first game contradicts any of this too explicitly (see the above, the first game loves to contradict itself), and i would even be happy if this was basically canon but never stated or confirmed to be the big overarching everything going on underneath it all. i believe you should probably know these things about any world that you create and have them in the back of your mind. the difference is that you can know these things and keep them in mind, even focusing on things where its very relevant, and still not reveal them. this is why you have lore bibles, after all. every horror writer knows exactly how their monster works and the full underlying reason for everything that happens, but that doesn't mean the audience will see it or possess this same information too, and leaving it intentionally obscure will make far better stories.

which, this is bad enough, but it wouldn't be the breaking point for me if this was all there was.

but the worst thing of all has to be the slow decay of the very same characters that sold me on this world, this lore, this game in the first place. monster prom is nothing without the characters in it. it's a dating sim, it has nothing but characters to get you to play, and liking these characters are the entire reason anyone would pick up monster prom in the first place.

and the first game pulls this off extremely well. it's all in the tagline: be your worst self. they are, indeed, all terrible people. yes, even that character that you just thought of right now. they all have points in the game where they commit atrocities, where they kill or hurt people, where they do inexcusable things that could not be ignored in a more serious setting.

but that's the point. i think there's something very powerful in creating a character who not only do you love and love their personality and the way they interact with the world, but who also are inapologetically terrible, and to have the humor and the charisma be so good that you don't get bogged down in the "this is awful". likewise, it never feels the urge to really go out of its way to justify what's going on. this is not to say theres no discussion of if someone "deserved it", but usually there's still the sense that the joke is on them, that this is still an extreme reaction specifically for comedy and not necessarily something that can be justified. you can have damien set leonard on fire and have it feel earned, without prompting the needed reaction of what it's actually like to watch someone burn to death.

this is what sets the prank masterz ending apart from the rest of the game, and really establishes it as the first real "bad ending". because nothing that you do or happens in the prank masterz ending is any different from anything else that happens in any other run. you summon evil beings from other dimensions as a throwaway gag on how visiting one location raises your stats. you kill other people and damn them to terrible fates. you watch as body horror happens. the only difference is that, in the prank masterz ending, the laugh track doesn't play.

the rest of the game and the writing echoes this philosophy, this careful interplay of tropes that keeps everything tongue in cheek and yet sincere enough to make sure emotional beats still land when they're needed. the characters feel true to themselves and their own emotions, even when the world is extreme and excessive, when everything else runs on comedy logic.

this is also what i noticed failing first as time went on.

like i said, fanon has always existed and there's always been very specific ideas as to what characters are like in the same way fanon always flattens down characters into the same tropes over and over. scott is stupid and innocent and doesn't know what sex is. damien is violent and hot and too cool for anyone else. miranda is the idiot girl character. repeat over and over and over until you get sick of it.

but it's been an issue as time has crept on that canon has started to approach fanon and began to merge with it. now, scott is so innocent that he can't even curse. polly starts being mean to her friends and saying things that would be very hurtful to hear. the merkingdom isn't really super evil and fucked up, it's just miranda that's like that. they become simpler, easier to digest, streamlined for social media posts and mass-sharing. they become less and less subversions of existing tropes and moreso just another example of them, something else to add to the collection, not their own individual stories.

even further from this, what more complex traits they had are now stated and not shown. polly is stated to be smart and clever in a way that her party girl persona doesn't imply and to be sincerely rather down to earth with the people she cares about, but we seldom ever see this anymore unless its the game specifically trying to make a point about it, in which case it won't let her do anything that implies cleverness and moreso will just outline it in the narration. vera is stated to care for people in a very genuine and heartfelt way, but seldom will get a chance to do so, and every opportunity for her to do so to their faces is missed while she will just outright state it later. it does not feel consistent, it does not feel like any of these are intended reads of their actions. it feels like the devs have something they want to do but no idea on how to actually do so. and forget it if you want these traits to manifest in small ways that show up in unrelated moments and scenes.

the dialogue becomes harder and harder to tell between each speaker, if you are just looking at what's said and not at the pictures attached to it. the characters' distinct voices have been eroded away, so that they speak more and more like each other, relaying the same terms and ideas in the same words. perspective becomes a suggestion, instead of a must.

this is something that started back in monster camp too, as all of the endings in that game felt ultimately the same as every other ending. it's very hard to place or define the full reason why, why there feels like there's no emotional stakes nor investment, why everything feels moreso like selecting different coats of paint and trying to find all the different ending pictures rather than being interested in exploring the characters as characters.

stranger yet, the series that started with the tagline of "be your worst self" has experienced a kind of... softening, for lack of a better word? what i mentioned about being able to handle the balance between terrible people who do terrible things and the light tone of the game starts to change, as abruptly the same characters who were down with violent murder in the first game start to lose their nerve, acting more and more on more typical morality. it's one of those things that feels like it's starting to damage the tone, as abruptly it's not as absurd as it used to be, demands less suspension of disbelief which could buffer and support the rest of the setting on it. there's even a part in one of the endings in montrip which involves current-polly and current-scott looking back on their monprom selves and reacting in horror at how violent and careless their pranks are, in a way that fundamentally felt like it was undercutting and disparaging all the things that felt fun and made monprom what it was.

which is odd, really, because more and more i feel like the characters in these games like each other less and less. the friendships and genuine enjoyment of each others company that brought me to this game in the first place has gone. now they don't mention each other as much, don't care for each other's feelings and reactions as much, aren't as willing to support each other. they are more and more found on their own, relied on their own, seem to seek out contact and interaction with their own friends less and less. it feels like they're all separating out into their own worlds, but also feels like they wouldn't willingly want to interact with each other if they weren't already forced together by some other outside contrivance.

if anything, i'd compare it to every other dating sim out there, where you, the player, are the most important person in these characters' lives, and they only feel ambivalent or antagonistic towards every other character. which, again, is not why i picked up monster prom or why i liked it so much in the first place.

and it's because of this that it feels like the current state of the series has to focus on its increasingly weak worldbuilding and lore, trying to form a more serious foundation without character relationships being so tightly bound together, without the characters themselves being more developed and rich, without an aspect of absurd humor to rely on.

more and more i've noticed monprom has to rely on referencing other series to make itself funny and create humor, which, again, it's always done. it was just easier to ignore back then, if you didn't know what was being referenced, because there was always more going on in the exact same scene to bolster it and give context clues as to the setup and punchline at play. it feels like the current games are much more dependent on you knowing pop culture references in order to have any fun with it, and i'm someone who, again, is very picky in what i like or what i'll seek out. i'm not interested in a stream of references about other things that i would much rather be doing than playing through a game that feels like it hates that i like it at all, when i could, again, just be engaging with the thing that takes itself seriously and knows what it wants.

[dredshirtroberts]

hey guess what my car trauma includes the *inside* of the car too apparently! :D :| idk i feel like getting made fun of for having to eat fast food in my car between work and school while my catalytic converter shat itself to the point that my back seat footwells were filled completely with various QSR trash maybe gave me some sort of complex. Just a hunch though, who knows.

[ofieugogyshz]

I'm so mad

I had a dream about some kinda-epic anime movie and I guess it had crossovers and groups with x color association (like how idols have x image color? but not specifically limited to only idol characters)

and in this movie, otoya was part of it, and, at the very end of it during a climatic battle scene, as part of the red color associated squad, Lance joined up too, and both of them got to meet

the image was so clear and colorful and bright in my mind and i could have sworn i'd see gif and image set posts on tumblr if i didnt realize it was fake upon waking up.

also the squealing/screaming in me could NOT be contained when they both interacted. i was squealing and kicking and trying to hide my face while also cheering. all of the feelings at once. like. they just had THE CUTEST SCENE TALKING TOGETHER AND WERE BOTH SO CUTE IN THEIR ANIMATIONS HHHHHH

there were also other characters that joined up in each color-associated, at least 5 diff color squads (note: they were not called that in the movie/dream, but idk what else to call it) and 5 "original" characters for the movie (ie not from other media like otoya and lance are) and at least 4-5 characters per squad during the final showdown. and during a scene when they'd show the ones who made up each squad in like one of those dynamic flash group poses, silver also got the tiniest of cameos, but that was also probably my brain/consciousness coming alert and injecting him at the association of "red" and "son" lol.

sincerely so sad and disappointed that it was not a real thing. do you know how badly i would love to spam this blog and main with images from that scene?

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt how much I love oni's writing again... In particular, "a seed is planted" continues to be one of if not my favorite logs because despite the troubling details and implications that come with it, it's the one thing in the entirety of the decaying corpse of gravitas that genuinely leaves us with a grain of hope (a seed if you will) and makes oni as a whole a lot more bitter sweet as while earth may not have survived, the dupes did, and after their horrible origins and the shit that many of them went through, in due time they'll finally get to just live, they're free now, and even if Olivia's sleep is end of a tragedy, the world will keep moving forward with or without those who've been lost

[themainannoyance]

Nature Is Healing <3 (adding events to my Google Calendar again)

[espinosaurusrexex]

Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket. 

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster. 

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes. 

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other. 

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him. 

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side. 

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk. 

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them. 

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.” 

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold. 

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room. 

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.” 

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that. 

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do. 

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?” 

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. 

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job. 

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude. 

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile. 

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision. 

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them. 

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now. 

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year. 

There was just one problem. 

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes. 

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist. 

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again. 

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event. 

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem. 

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now. 

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors. 

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail. 

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor. 

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well. 

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.  

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought. 

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye. 

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant. 

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them. 

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in. 

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water. 

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward. 

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless. 

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours. 

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.” 

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to. 

“Wait you’re working for SPS?” 

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body. 

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again. 

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden. 

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating. 

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind. 

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile. 

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you. 

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds. 

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready. 

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.  

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys. 

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it. 

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic. 

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future. 

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them. 

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder. 

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world. 

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea. 

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen. 

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.” 

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.” 

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office. 

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant. 

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary. 

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.” 

And so you did. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen. 

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh. 

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’ 

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat. 

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened. 

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside. 

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet. 

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly. 

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath. 

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that. 

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.” 

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal. 

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation. 

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato. 

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been. 

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer. 

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises. 

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door. 

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain. 

“He’s very admirable for that.” 

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional. 

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face. 

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep. 

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now. 

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head. 

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.” 

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.” 

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside. 

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar. 

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous. 

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought. 

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop. 

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled. 

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home. 

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right. 

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.  

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod. 

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table. 

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown. 

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.” 

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing. 

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day. 

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched. 

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know. 

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?” 

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known. 

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand. 

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower. 

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home. 

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes. 

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door. 

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...” 

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest. 

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek. 

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself. 

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him. 

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen. 

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug. 

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer. 

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed. 

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture. 

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away. 

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking. 

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body. 

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all. 

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly. 

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it. 

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless. 

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.  

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day. 

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You. 

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence. 

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair. 

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided. 

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him. 

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you. 

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him. 

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you. 

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day. 

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve. 

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us. 

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind. 

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture. 

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve. 

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face. 

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed. 

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again. 

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected. 

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered. 

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you. 

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same. 

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again. 

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew. 

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.  

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent. 

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.” 

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer. 

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?” 

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again. 

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet. 

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight. 

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head. 

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile. 

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla. 

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat. 

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop. 

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?” 

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name. 

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile. 

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted. 

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth. 

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again. 

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings. 

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions. 

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire. 

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time. 

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future. 

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed. 

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky. 

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out. 

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away. 

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them. 

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them. 

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off. 

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now. 

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth. 

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it. 

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind. 

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome. 

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it. 

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city? 

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement. 

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose. 

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours. 

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer. 

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole. 

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint. 

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect. 

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him. 

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating. 

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans. 

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath. 

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear. 

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you. 

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time. 

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you. 

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips. 

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern. 

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise. 

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him. 

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them. 

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers. 

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest. 

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy. 

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up. 

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap. 

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it. 

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.” 

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip. 

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal. 

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then. 

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit. 

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult. 

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you. 

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy. 

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm. 

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head. 

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance. 

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back. 

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.” 

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his. 

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs. 

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer. 

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth. 

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of. 

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy. 

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:

Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

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also tagging my steve tags (for everyone who wanted an update on Bambi) 🤗 :

[gremlingottoosilly]

Beekeeping age [Dilf!Konig x fem!Reader]

You're ex-boyfriend is an asshole, so you decided to fuck his hot military dad instead. You're going to find out why his first wife ran as fast as she did, very soon - but Konig is still the best dick that ever happened to you.

CW: Daddy kink(obvi), power imbalance, possessive Konig, perverted Konig, age gap(Reader in her early twenties, Konig in his early forties), mentions of cheating(your ex is a douchebag anyway), slightly obsessive Konig, size kink, unprotected sex.

FIRST PART (can be read separately) AO3

— Why your wife left you, again? 

You stuff your face full of…something. He cooked it – gods did he cook it well. It’s meat and vegetables and spices, and it feels like your dad cooking but twice as good. It feels like pure sin because he says you shouldn’t worry about calorie counts or how fat the meat is, or how good everything tastes fried because he needs his special girl to feel good and healthy and fatten up a little bit, and you…gods, you’re down. Bad. 

You wonder if König’s wife left because she couldn’t compete with his cooking. You wonder if his wife left because he was feeding her too good. 

— Why don’t we leave uneasy questions for later, Schatzi? 

He brushes his hand over your hair, taking in the way you look – dressed up in his shirt, skin covered in bites and bruises from his hold. He can’t see it right now but can almost testify to the way your lipstick was all over his collar – good thing he wasn't wearing his uniform shirt, wouldn’t want to make dorks from Kobra jealous. 

He brings you another plate, he fills your glass – you never knew beer could taste this good, but he whispered something about having his own little homemade brewery for wine and beer somewhere in the mountains, in his Summer house. This man has a hug apartment in Vienna and a Summer house – you think you heard him having enough land to go hunting and to keep bees, and you might have cum a little bit just here and there. 

— I would like to know the story, actually. To not repeat her mistakes, you know. 

— You won’t, Liebling. I can already picture you with a ring on your pretty finger. 

— Not so fast. Maybe I don’t believe in marriage. 

— You’re too young to stop believing in it. 

— Way to talk when you’re the divorced one, sir. 

— Shut it, Schatzen. I can still take care of a good girl like you, ja? König leans in to kiss you, his lips brushing over your mouth – it’s wet and swollen, he bite you quite a few times already, and you feel dizzy just from the way his tongue lingers just a second before going in, taking your arousal even more. His hand gently brushes some hair from your face and you giggle from the sensation of his rough fingers on the softness of your skin. It never failed to mesmerize you, just how seasoned and old the colonel might be – and his hands would still tremble as if he is handling the finest porcelain doll in his hands. He has the expression of an anxious, devoted follower – you are not sure how his wife could left him. If he was looking at you like this every day, even as you go through with pregnancy and a piece of shit kid like Paul, you would die before leaving him. 

— Could you two please stop fucking each other? 

— I thought you wanted to move to dorms.

— This is my house too!

— Not on the documents, it’s not. — You can’t just throw me away, dad! — Your new stepmom needs her space. 

König grasps your shoulder as you try to stop them from arguing again – it’s embarrassing enough that you’re fucking your ex’s dad. Colonel makes it a whole fucking show, parading you around as his controversially young girlfriend, making sure that his son will hear your moans and whimpers as you get fucked at every surface of this apartment. You were wondering if you could ask him to move to the Summer house – even with your college and all. You can take a gap year and write a journalist investigation about lonely veterans and their mastery at brewing alcohol. You can take a gap year and try your best in the new trophy wife gig. König’s hand is firm on your shoulder – you know better than to try and argue with him, the silent recognition of authority loud in your head. You sigh, trying your best to just stop yourself from acting too damn weird. It’s their male thing, and you’re just an intruder in a big T-shirt and old leggings. König said it wasn’t his wifey’s – that he burned all of her stuff when she left. Somehow, you find peace in that statement. 

— How could you even…Jesus fucking Christ, this is disgusting. She is my age! — And the most beautiful girl in the world. I can see why you liked her. — She is my girlfriend! — Schatzi came to me in distress and begged me to take her. I think we both knew you weren’t…the best option. You feel more embarrassed with each second of their conversation. You don’t want to listen, you don’t want to take in their words, you feel like a trophy being discarded between two different winners. You feel like a prized mare on a farm – and they won’t even look at you. Too distracted by the sound of their voices, you eat your dinner in somewhat somber peace because you need to eat, after all, and you really like what König cooks. You like what König does most of the time. All of the time. 

Paul storms off the room after a few minutes of bickering. You feel guilty for not stopping him because he was still kinda your boyfriend. You ex-boyfriend. Your asshole incel-ish ex-boyfriend whose assholless literally made you go and sleep with his dilfy dad, and…god, you feel like a whore. Good. Paul was calling you a whore a lot of the time, you may as well take the new name and plaster it in your new badge. 

König’s hand lingers on your back, caressing it gently. You whimper because you feel bad and you’re still in college, and Paul’s disgusted reaction reminds you that fucking a guy in his forties isn’t the best business decision. Even if the said guy is a retired colonel with shitload of money, even if he still goes to work sometimes, just because he wants to feel cool and shoot guns at bad guys, even if this guy buys you cool gifts and he promised to renovate your car or buy you a new one, and he makes plans and takes you to places that don’t make you feel like begging for attention. 

If anything, you feel like he is drowning you with attention. 

His hand lets go of your shoulder – he was holding you so tight the whole conversation, you can sense the bruises forming on your skin. You lick your lips, and he moves to kiss you again. You feel like drowning, you feel like this is all just a dream – and you’re also drunk because gods, König knows how to make a good glass of…something. 

— You shouldn’t act like this. He is your son. 

He laughs dismissingly. He dismisses a lot of things you said – you think it’s the age difference. You think he is just being traditional, and you don’t want to be too nagging. You don’t want to end up like his wife and wake up from the dear you’ve been seeing. 

König’s lips are soft, and you can look past his hands, taking you too possessively – you can close your eyes, and you can just listen to his accent, smiling as his tongue worms its way into your mouth. He is good, you think – at this whole kissing thing. At this whole “Hi there, I’m a retired old dog and I am fucking the girlfriend of my only son. I’m divorced btw” .

He has experience – you know it when he tucks your lip between his teeth, when he massages your shoulders as you spread your legs already, so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing. You never slept much with Paul – his poor excuse of a son – it was always never enough lube, it was always never enough attention, he always needed you to shave or to leave your hair to grow a little bit, it was either your perfume being too sweet or you no wearing anything at all. You thought he would have much more fun masturbating to his anime chicks and poor gaming sessions with his friends. 

But König isn’t like this – every time he drops on his knees to eat you out like a man starving, you feel utter and complete devotion. In his tongue, in his mouth, in his teeth as he sucks little marks into your thighs, making sure you will remember it tomorrow when he will ask you to stay for breakfast and then ride you to whatever you need to come next. Last time he promised to drive you to the library, he took a few turns and took you to some restaurant instead. You gushed about not having proper attire, he was still in his half-uniform and rocking dark cargo pants, and he was apologizing every time his fingers hit that special spot in your cunt as he fingered you during the second course of meals. He said that he was so, sorry about not fucking you properly, about having to resort to public displays like this – and you were too high on loving him to care. You still are. — I don’t think we should be…

— He left. Won’t bother us anymore. 

— I’m not in the mood right now. 

— You’re always in the mood, Schatzen. Enough to drive me crazy. — You’re a pervert. Like Paul. 

— He takes on after his father, ja?

It would alarm you how much contempt he had for his own child right now. Then, again, you were the one who dumped his son for the powerhouse of a dad. Maybe it was your daddy issues, maybe it was your dumb reasoning and the summer break that you didn’t want to spend with your family. Good thing you’re spending it with the other. 

König’s face is buried between your legs, his teeth tugging on the soft fabric, forcing your leggings down. God, it feels good – he is so high on wanting you, can’t even wait to take off your clothes properly. You never had a man wanting you so badly before – it’s addicting, it’s crushing, it makes you feel like a goddess among men. Makes you feel wanted, a thing that your ex never did. 

You forget about guilt when he kisses your lower tummy, when his lips trace down to your cunt, taking sharp licks through your panties. You wore them this morning, something from a new lacy set he bought – one of the only ones that weren’t torn off from your body the moment you took them on. He always wanted you to make these little fashion shows for him, making good use of his money – you weren’t a sugar baby, not on paper, you still clutched to the last traces of your dignity, but he did buy you a lot of gifts. 

— S’ pretty for me, Liebling. The prettiest girl in the world.

— I assume after…af..ter your wife. 

You giggle when he frowns, his rugged face filled with concern. He doesn’t like jokes about his marriage – you don’t want to ask him about it because it would mean waking up from a dream you want to experience over and over again, but you heard what Paul was talking about. What his mom told him about. you heard enough to know that kissing a man like König is a safety hazard and a liability that you can’t afford, but it’s warm, and he is rich, and you don’t want to go back to your part-time job this season. You want to be dumb and you want to be young – right now, you’re doing both. — Don’t be so dumb, Schatzi. Although it suits you. 

— I’m not dumb! 

— Nein, you’re not. Just silly. 

— You just call me a different type of dumb. 

— I like it when you’re dumb. Makes you cuter. 

König is awkward and funny, and he buys you things that you could never afford. He is mysterious and kind – to you, not his enemies – and he uses German words randomly in his phrases because he knows the accent, and the pronunciation drives you crazy. You never thought of thinking of yourself as a dilf hunter but, hell, here you are. With his dark ginger stubble – and grey streaks that make you go wild every time you look at him – between your thighs. It’s tickling, and it’s a bit irritating, and he will rub some calming lotion in your skin after this, making sure to cover every inch of your skin with some expensive cream that he knows jackshit about, but you wanted it, and so he went out and bought it. Gosh, you felt dumb even asking him for this. 

He traces his kisses along your thighs, tongue lingers to press against your wet, swollen folds. Flirting in front of Paul made you embarrassingly hot, solidifying you as a shitty, bad, horny person who needs fat cock stuffed in your leaking pussy. You lick your lips, and you tremble when he pushes his tongue inside. He is starving, pushy with all of his needs – makes you almost beg for it, like a pet he took from the street. 

— I want to take you to the Summer house next week. 

You open your eyes, shocked. It’s nothing, really, you shouldn’t be this surprised about him wanting to show off his other properties. You want to check out his wine cellar and how sturdy the furniture is. You want to see if he had deers running around the house. If he had any pictures of his family – and if you could ever hope to compete with his ex-wife. It’s a petty competition, but you don’t have much to do and to think about. It’s obvious the love here won’t last until the end of the break, and you want to get as much from it as possible. Maybe even some hot bikini picks at his pool. He has to have one. — What if I have plans, sir? 

It’s innocent and you play the role well. You think some of your friends wanted to hang out or make a study group for the upcoming semester. You are a good girl at heart, with nice grades and a perfectly played-out future, and not as many working opportunities as you may like, but you could manage with something. Writing a killer essay about your life with a smoke show during Summer would be easy with someone like him. 

He laughs, his hand lightly smacks your butt. You bite your lip and whimper, not accustomed to pain feeling this good. 

— You will change them, little one. For the whole Summer. 

— I wanted to study. 

You moan when he lightly presses his tongue on your swollen clit, kissing and licking it. Slick runs down your legs, and he collects it with his mouth. You whimper again, tears prickling at the edge of your eyes – the sensation is sudden and overwhelming, makes you get your hands in his hair and slightly tug. He groans, pleasure from having you so active, so participating is overwhelming. He loves you, loves you, loves you, adores you. God, you’re beautiful. And so, so restrained – just his special good girl. Only for him. — You can study at our house. 

— You mean you and your ex’s house. 

He smacks you again for the foul language – although you know you didn’t even curse, he is still punishing you. In the lightest way possible, of course, you know you won’t handle anything too harsh – still, you feel nice and warm when he isn’t just eating you out, but also smacks you for speaking in such unpretty words again. 

You don’t even register the way he called the house yours too. All too dumb for this, again. 

— I mean our house, Schatzen. Just you and your daddy, ja? You worry too much about studying. 

— I want a nice job. Without…distractions. 

He slips one finger in your warm, tight hole – even just one digit is enough to make you shiver, clenching it like a sloppy whore. He is big in every way – just two of his fingers are bigger than a normal cock, and no, you didn’t want to compare a son with his father, but even Paul’s cock, as big as it was, was still way thinner than his father’s. 

— Why you need a job? 

— Not everyone are retired military. I need money. 

— You have me. 

— I d…don’t want to be a sugar baby. Sir. 

— I have no problems with being your daddy, Schatzen.

König is build like a powerhouse – when he slips just the tip into you, ignoring all previous preparation because, by god, you both need to feel connected, he is dragging you on top of the table, tossing aside the dirty dishes with remains of his perfectly cooked dinner…and you feel like home. Almost. 

You imagine waking up with his cock every morning, and with the nice cup of coffee only he can make. You imagine him gushing about rebuilding the house and working on his tight and neat desk job at the mercenary company – something about instructing, dumb recruits, only the most elite missions as an operator in retirement, creating strategies and tactics for the warfare – and thinking that, wow, your husband is really cool. You shouldn’t be thinking this because this is just a summer fling. Your relationships with Paul weren’t too serious either, you just didn’t want to be alone. 

König gently caresses your fingers, whispering something about numbers – you think you could recognize the word for a ring a bit later when he was making a call to some friend. In German, of course, you don’t quite understand it, but you worm your warm on his lap like a spoiled cat, purring on his crotch like a good fucking girl. But it was a while later. 

Now, you’re gasping and panting, his cock spreading you open and stuffing you like the poor bird he was cooking for dinner. You know you won’t be able to walk after a short while – would probably have to spend the day at his house, with him cooing and gushing about your sore body while he is quietly proud of himself. If you’re lucky, you could convince him to let you go in the evening. If you’re not, he will ask you to stay the night, and maybe even a bit more, and then he will just get the bag with your stuff from your room in the dorm by himself, and then… — What do you think about getting married in August?

Maybe, you do know why his wife left him. 

[dante-mightdie]

A small req? Wheree we're a milf and our incel son eventually joins the military (you choose if he joins the military or meets at a bar I ain't gaf) and meets Ghost, 141 whatever. He brings Ghost home to his basement room(or the 141 bb do whatever you want) and ghost is surprised n shi that we this incel momma when we com with snacks or something like 'get outta here mom you're embarrassing me Infront of my new friends!" Is our sons reaction or sum. And ghostie pookie excuses himself up to the bathroom to sloppily makeout with us 🥺

nobody look at me i’m foaming at the mouth

c/w: simon is kinda strange but in a weird sexy way, mentions of misogyny, talks of sex must no actual smut, housewife kink kinda

it’s no secret that your son is a nasty little misogynistic shit. everyone on base has had the experience of standing next to him on a night as out when he gets a drink thrown in his face by whatever girl is he was chatting to

they’d been there every time he dogs out in front of everyone when you visit him on base. watching your eyes well up when your son tells you that he doesn’t like your new haircut or dress, that you’re too old to wear stuff like that

simon tried not to judge, appearances can be deceiving. perhaps you’re not all smiles and baked goods, maybe you’re an awful mother behind the scenes. he really tried. until he found out the real reason your son treats you like shit…

“she made my dad leave. he told me after they divorced that she wasn’t giving him what he needed, that’s why he had to go and get it somewhere else.” your son finally admitted one night after going through half case of beer

simon felt his hand tighten around his bottle as your son continued to ramble about how you were always busy with shit jobs. waitressing, cleaning or retail. he spent most of his childhood never getting all the latest toys and clothes because you could never afford it, too busy catching up on late bills to make sure there was a roof over both of your heads

“she’s so selfish.”

‘fuck being non-judgmental’ simon thinks. this kid doesn’t know how lucky he is. having a such a lovely mum like you, never losing your patience with your son even when he treats you like dirt. always trying to greet him with a hug or kiss just for him to push you away. begging him to call when he’s away just so you can know your boy is safe :(

“sounds like your mad at your mum for being the one that stuck around, lad.” price buts in, shaking his head with a small laugh.

you had been a topic of discussion the night after your first visit to the base. the product of a few glasses of bourbon shared between simon and john

“did you see the new recruits mother? fuckin’ hell, if I were 10 years younger I’d be all over that.” price admitted, adjusting his hips as he leaned back in his desk chair. simon let out a small grunt of agreement, having thought about this since he first laid eyes on you

simon had come to the conclusion that you both just needed a good man in your life. your son needed a father figure that would actually stick around, he could tell by the way your son looks up to him and the captain, eager to impress them

and you. oh, you. with your sweet, simple dresses and adoring smile. simon wishes you’d smile at him like that. all that cooking that your son lets go to waste could go to him instead. you could cook his favourite dinners for him and take care of his house whilst he’s away at work, whipping the boy into shape. teaching him every thing that your sack of shit ex-husband clearly didn’t

he’d be so good to you too. he knows it’s been a while since you’ve had a man to take care of your needs. he sees the way you nearly drool as you watch him running laps around the field, tatted arms on display. he’d spit you open so nicely on his cock and he knows you’d take him so well too, your pretty cunt would he creaming all over him

he soon takes advantage of this knowledge, subtly convincing your son to invite him over to your home on leave. dropping some story about how his flat is getting some work done and that he only lives 20 minutes from you both. your son was quick to offer the lieutenant a place to stay, telling him that he could take your room. that you could sleep on the couch for a couple weeks.

‘we’ll share the bed.’ simon thinks, but he doesn’t dare say it to your sons face. can’t have this little brat meddling with his plan

his arrival is clearly a surprise to you from the way you rush about shortly afterwards to start scrubbing the house top to bottom, rattling off apologies about the state of everything. simon quickly shuts down any offer of him taking your bedroom

“keep your bed, love. I’ll take the sofa.” he grumbles, sipping the tea that you made for him whilst your son rolls his eyes from the other side of the kitchen

he can see the way your eyes look at him with this longing. he knows it won’t take much to get you into bed. poor thing that hasn’t had anyone to look after her for years

he spends the next few days proving to you that he can provide. helping you carry anything heavy, drying the dishes after you’ve watched them, fixing the handy jobs around the house

you’re constantly praising him, focusing your love and attention towards him instead of your ungrateful son and the boy hates it. which is just the cherry on top, simon thinks

“your mother is so lucky to have a son like you. you must help her around the house all the time!” you coo, fidgeting with your skirt

“my mum passed away… jus’ me left out of the whole family.” simon admits, solemnly

“you poor thing, I’m so sorry. you’re welcome here anytime…” you gasp softly, placing your delicate hand on his arm and squeezing the muscle of his bicep gently and simon is ashamed to say it made his cock twitch against his thigh

“thank you, sweetheart… such a lovely girl, aren’t you?” he smiles behind his mask, reaching over and wrapping his arm around your waist. he pulls you against him, putting one hand over your mouth to keep you quiet as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter

he squeezes his large frame inbetween your spread legs, leaning forward to look into your widened eyes

“been so good to me, love. taking care of me. such a good mum to your son, ya just need a good man to be a wife to, don’t you?” he says, pushing your skirt up your lap and revealing your thighs to him

he feels your thighs squeeze his waist, an aroused reaction from you. your body slumps into his with a natural submission that makes his cock ache. he lowers his hand and hooks his mask over his nose, revealing the scar running over his lip

“s’alright, darling. ‘m here to look after you now. me, you and the boy will be a nice happy family, yeah?” he says with a small smirk. leaning forward to mould his lips against yours before you can answer

he hears the little whimper you let out as you kiss him back, a little sloppy and inexperienced from years of being single, too busy with your son and work to date

but that’s okay because simon’s here now. ready to claim his family.