#wasn’t January before i could actually do anything’

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

damn i have got to see a therapist or somethin

[softtdaisy]

🌲 a found family l max verstappen

summary. you and max can't spend Christmas together but a trip to his dad and the love he has for you make him realize that he deserves better. a better life. a better love. a better family.

words count. 2,596

a/n. and this is the last piece for this Christmas series. Thanks to all of you for sticking me through December. and a massive thanks to my favorite person @monzabee for encouraging me and for giving me this beautiful idea to end the series 🫶

a very angsty Christmas l masterlist

You looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a dress Max had bought you this year during one of your holidays. One of the many gifts he did to you this year, because if there were one thing that could describe your boyfriend it would be his generiosity. That man could buy you the world if you wanted it. 

And that was maybe what was making him the saddest tonight.

He could see you wearing it and neither could he offer you his gift. 

Because you were not spending Christmas’ eve together. But in each other’s family.

“You know this look is a great excuse to skip the diner at my dad’s?” Max asked which made you laughed. He was still sit on your bed, his shirt barely closed and his hair absolutely not styled. He was the closest to his place, compared to you who had to drive for almost two hours. 

He watched you as you walked to your phone, that you had put on your wardrobe to show your whole look. “You’re such a flirt, Maxie.” you kept laughing, specially when he started making his poutty face that you absolutely love. You always found it funny how most people saw him as this arrogant guy when he was such a sweetheart. 

“Ain’t I allowed to flirt with my girl?” 

“You are. It’s a shame you won’t enjoy the result of this flirt tonight.” 

This hasn’t been an easy decision for either of you. It’s was only your first christmas together since you started dating on january. And you really wish you could have spend the evening together. But you learn one thing through this past year: never go against Jos Verstappen’s plan. 

From the first race you attended, you got the feeling Jos didn’t really appreciate you. You tried to talk about it with Max without making a whole drama out of it but he didn’t really react. Or say anything, actually.

Not that Max didn’t care. It was even far from it. He just didn’t know what to do. He never talked about his personnal life with his dad and it wouldn’t be a first now. Specially not with these type of question. Max always assumed that his father only care about his racing career. It couldn’t be that bad if he wasn’t interested in his son’s couple. Right?

“I have to go” you told Max, who was lost on his thoughts. He enjoyed for the last few seconds to sight of you before you had to hung up. “Call me if you need, alright?” 

“Even if I don’t need it.” he laughed before letting you go.

Every time he had to say goodbye to you, on the phone or because you couldn’t follow him for the next race, Max felt a little hole in his heart. He never thought one day he’ll met someone that could complete him like you did. 

That’s all he thought about until he arrived at his dad’s place. All the thing he wanted to do with you before the new season starts, where he would take you during the holiday, which races you could be there and what places he wanted to show you during these weekend. More than just happiness for your couple, Max realised how important you were for his anxiety. Before he met you, most of the time he had to drive to see his father, he was anticipated all the bad things that could happen. The critics, the disapproval, the yelling if they really did disagree on something. And the worst part was that, in the end, he was just living the nightmare before it happened.

And maybe it was the fact he didn’t think about all these things before arriving, but Max felt good when he arrived.

“Uncle Maxie!” And being around his nephew was definitely a good help.

For many years, Max never consider having children. The anxiety he developped because of his own childhood was a perfect argument to avoid trying. How could he give a child what he needs if he doesn’t know himself what a kid should have? He knew what he shouldn’t do, that’s all.

But these past weeks, from seeing his nephews and calling them, he realized that maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea.

And maybe, you weren’t for nothing in this change of mind.

“You’re shinny, uncle Maxie.” 

“Shinny?” he laughed, still playing with the little cars that represent all the Formula one drivers.

“Yep. You’re happy.” 

Max didn’t know what to answer to that. But then he felt two hands on his shoulders and a kiss from Victoria on his hair. “He’s right.” He turned around to look at her. He guessed that the look she had was just another proof that indeed, he was lookier happier. “It’s for the toast, come.”

It was some kind of tradition. Everyone had to say what they were grateful for at the end of this year. Kids, health, career… each other always revolved around these subjects. Max was not going to break the circle. Not today.

“Well I’m grateful for the amazing year I spend. Winning the championship again was more than I could expect at the beginning of the season. So yeah I’m grateful for the team, for the work we did to win the races and create such amazing memories all together.” 

Max stopped for a few seconds, thinking about what he could be grateful for. There was one thing, obviously.

If he met his father’s eyes, he wouldn’t have continued. But he didn’t. He looked at Victoria and her massive smile. 

“And I’m grateful for my girlfriend. I couldn’t have go through this crazy year without her. She’s my rock, she’s my best friend, she’s without a doubt my soulmate and I’m glad I could finally found the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Max heard all the lovely and loudly sound from his family. And before he could notice her, Victoria was already in his arms, telling him how proud she was that he finally found the happiness he deserved.

Again, he could have focus on the good thing, all the congratulations and excitement about this new family member that they all couldn’t wait to meet. But this time, Max did saw Jos look on him. One that he sadly knew by heart: disappointment. 

At first, Max decided to ignore the situation and spend most of the evening playing with his nephews, pretending to be a car himself to drive them around the house. But he couldn’t escape the heavy atmosphere forever.

Max saw that Jos was sitting by himself in the living room, with a whisky in his hand. He hesitated, did he really wanted to break all the good vibes for a talk for his dad? And then again, he was too nice to avoid him. No matter if he knew he would end this conversation with some broken feelings, Max couldn’t escape it. Because if there was one thing he was sure about, it was that he never wanted to become like his father. A man that would rather ignore the people he love for the sake of disappointment. Silence was never the solution.

“So, how do we feel about new season?” Max asked, sitting next to him. If there was one subject they couldn’t really argue about was his career. Or at least, even if there was some disagreement, it wouldn’t end up badly.

“You have to leave her.” It was simple. Five words. Said with a hard tone. Like an order. “You’re already losing your man over that…stupid girl. You can’t let yourself fail for a woman, Max.”

Maybe he should have gone with the swerve, in the end. “What do you mean? I’ve been with her for a year and I still won.” He could have, maybe, understand if the season was a pure fail. But it wasn’t. The car was amazing and he won almost every races. There was not single doubt that not only you weren’t a burden but you were a motivation for him. It didn’t make sense. But still, Max knew where all of this came from. Because he knew his father.

“A woman is always a burden in a career.” 

“This is why you got married thrice?” It left his mouth without Max had time to notice it. Truth is, he got tired as he grow older of the need to think about his words. What could he say what he mean to his dad? Why should he still be afraid? “Trust me, you terrible at giving relationship advices.” 

“You should watch your mouth.” Jos replied, taking a stew towards his son. For many years, Max used to step back to avoid the confrontation. Not anymore.

Instead, he took at step towards too. “You should watch yours. I won that fucking championiship, again. And you can’t even congratulate me? All you think about is the woman that want to spend her life with me? Not you, me.”

He noticed the change, again, in Jos look. It was getting darker and darker, like his anger was taking over himself and he was close to not be able to contain himself. Usually, Max was scared of the moment he would explode. There was just one change in his mind. You.

Max could accept any criticism about his career or life choices, he didn’t care. It was his life. Sometimes he might be wrong and he could deal with his dad saying that he warned him. He was still young and could deal with some mistakes.

But there was one thing he could never let Jos critcize or give his opinion on it: you.

“I won’t let you ruin your career for some stupid woman.” Jos got the time to grab his wrist. Max hated feeling like a child, all over again. Looking for his dad approval. 

Expect that this time, he didn’t want it. “Fine. It’s my career. I don’t need your opinion.” he managed to free himself and was already leaving the room. He couldn’t continue this without letting it become some shit show. No matter the situation, his family didn’t deserve it. Specially not on Christmas eve. 

“If you don’t leave her, then i’m not supporting you anymore.” 

Max stopped in the middle of the room. He heard the sound of a glass falling in the kitchen sink. He heard the sudden silence in the children’s playroom. This was the results of year of fighting for Jos seeing him as an equal, as a real driver and not a child who wants to grow older and be consider an adult. This was the results of feeling like his dad loved him.

Max was hurt. But he couldn’t fight anymore. “Fine.” he didn’t turn around, didn’t want to look at his father. It wasn’t the idea of seeing him. It was the idea of Jos seeing how bad he broke him, again. “I’ll do better without you.” 

The silence was still everywhere when Max walked to his sister to kiss her and said goodbye to his nephew. It was for the better, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to fight if they asked him to stay. But Victoria knew his brother, and what he deserves was to be in a place where he felt loved. 

And there was one where he knew he would never be ignored and rejected.

When you opened the door, you imagined different scenarios. But never one where you would see Max on your doorstep. “Baby?” you asked with confusion, almost like you were sure he was real.

“I’m sorry, I should have called, I know i wasn’t invited but…” he didn’t need to continue. Because you recognized the look in his eyes. One you sadly saw before. When he argued with his dad on the circuit and you couldn’t do anything than holding him in your arms. Telling me it would get better. That he wasn’t alone.

That was the only truth Max needed. He was far from being alone.

So you offered your hand to him. “Come in baby.” you noticed the little hesitation in his look, on that sadden you. It wasn’t that Max didn’t want to come in. It was a pur fear of opening his heart to you and losing you after. It didn’t last long, because he knew deep down that you were here to stay. But you were scared that this was a kind of thought that would never leave his mind.

You gave him a small and simple kiss on the lips, a kind of silent promise that you were supporting him. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Max even asked for. He was so not used of being understood and loved, this simple attention was enough to light up his heart again.

“Sweetie, who’s th… Oh Max! What a lovely surprise!” 

You were interrupted by your dad who almost push you away to take Max in his arms. You weren’t surprised. First, because your dad was a very lovely and tactile person who couldn’t resist this type of greeting. Second, because he appreciated Max so much, he was probably the one praying every day for a wedding. Third, because he had been asking you all night why you didn’t bring him. 

But Max, on the contrary, was more than surprised by that. Was he really that happy to see him? “Come in, you’re getting cold. Did you eat? We have…” you didn’t even hear the rest of the sentence that your dad had already pulled Max to the living room. Your boyfriend just had the time to turn around and give you a curious look. To which you replied with a smile. It felt right to see him being appreciated and treated like he should.

All your family spend the night talking to him, asking questions and making him feel like he was home. That was the truth, actually: this place was also a home for him. It was yours. And your family already considered him as a part of it. There was no reason for Max to not be a full member. 

It wasn’t until you got to bed, in your bedroom, that he let his mind speak. You were laying on his chest while he was looking at the ceiling and caressing your hair. It was relaxing for both of you to stay in silence after the crazy night you had. 

“I’ve felt much more at home here in a few hours than in all my life with my dad.” Max said slowly, in a whisper.

You turned your head just enough to look at him while he was still focused on his thoughts. You were making a whole speech in your head to make him feel better. You had no idea how he felt about this. This must be such a strange situation to feel more loved by your family-in-law than your own. 

But then he put a kiss on your hair and started to smile. “Thank you.” he whispered, like he was scared to be heard by anyone else. “For finding me and for loving me.”

You could feel your heart melt at this confession. “Thank you for opening your heart to me.” you replied. 

And you stayed like that for a good minute before you made a debrief of the whole evening here. When you both fell asleep, you realised you had the greatest gift you could ever dream of. Happiness in the arms of your loved one.

[astroninaaa]

wtf is going on with cellbit - by a brazilian law major student

hey besties ever since the day cellbit released that PDF i’ve been keeping up with his shit bc as a law student (only two years to go!!!!) in brazil it’s kinda really interesting to see how it goes, specially since i don’t think we’ve ever had this sort of judicial action taken by an internet celebrity, like, ever. so i’ve decided to kinda explain what’s going on. if anyone has any questions after this i’d be really up to talk about it i love talking about law 🫶 xoxo let’s start. also sorry if anything reads weird english is not my native language okay

for those who don’t know, very recently, a judicial action taken by cellbit has made public. in this action, he’s suing over 200 people for the crime of defamation.

the action was taken to court in january, but it was under what we call “secret of justice”, which means only cellbit himself and twitter’s lawyers had access to it. now that there have been decisions by the judge and everything, the process’s been made public.

basically, cellbit started an action against twitter (NOT THE PEOPLE WHO COMMITTED THE CRIME YET), citing a little over 200 tweets that accused him of crimes like SA, psychological abuse, pedophilia, and others. all of those are real crimes in brazil — and accusing someone of committing crimes (specially as awful crimes as those) without proof is a crime in itself (defamation). he claimed that the tweets were harmful to his honor, mental health, and reputation, besides categorizing as defamation, since there’s no investigation going on against him for all these infractions he’s being accused of.

with that, he asked twitter to delete all the tweets, and to provide him with the personal information of said twitter accounts so he can sue them directly for defamation. he did these requests through something called “tutela cautelar”, which means the judge gets to decide whether or not twitter has to do these things before proof production and proper investigation, since, if twitter doesn’t do those things, the damage to his honor and reputation will be ongoing + he won’t be able to sue the proper people in time.

the judge conceded to his requests, and twitter has already deleted all the tweets. the main discussion going right now is wtf do they do about the international accounts — does our law apply to them? what’s gonna happen? we don’t know yet. that’s being discussed in court for the moment and, considering brazilian courts, it might take quite a while.

so, yeah, all those people aren’t being sued YET. but they will, probably somewhat soon.

it’s also important to mention that this lawsuit is from january and was only now released to the public. there’s probably a lot more coming after the whole fiasco that led him to releasing his statement, including a lawsuit against his ex herself.

now, other topics — could he sue other twitter accounts for cyber bullying or death threats? probably, but my personal opinion is that suing for defamation and focusing on accounts that were accusing him of having committed crimes was a much better move because it’s a much stronger case.

there’s very little room for discussion when a person has outright said “cellbit committed this crime”. death threats have more room for discussion: “oh, but they’re hundreds of miles away, it wasn’t a serious threat”, “they didn’t mean it”, “it was a joke”. same thing goes for cyberbullying: it can get too subjective.

defamation isn’t subjective. you accuse someone of a crime they didn’t commit? boom, defamation, at least according to our laws. so, to me, personally, it makes a LOT of sense for his lawyers to focus on that: he’s a LOT more likely to win than if he was suing for cyberbullying, threatening, insult, or any of that. also, he’s a lot more likely to win FASTER.

when he gets to sue the actual people who committed the crime, that is. for now, he’s only requested twitter to give him the necessary information to get to these people, which i think they’ll very likely be obligated to do. there are digital data protection laws in brazil, but a crime is a crime. digital data protection isn’t gonna protect you from the court.

another thing: LGPD (brazil’s general law of personal data protection) forces all social media companies to keep records of all the content posted by their users for AT LEAST six months. many companies keep it for way longer. that’s a law created for judicial purposes, in case something published to twitter, facebook, or instagram needs to be analysed by a court. that’s why even tho twitter has deleted the tweets, they still have them, and why it doesn’t matter if the people responsible are deleting the tweets, the accounts, the fucking app itself. the records are still there, and they will be used judicially.

i think that’s the overall for the situation, but i’m willing to answer any questions and to discuss it if anyone wants to! i’m a big law enjoyer. also personally i think cellbit is so fucking right for this like YEAH people don’t get to commit fucking crimes on twitter and get away with it. really interested in how this is gonna go law-wise, but in general also really glad to see someone take action like this.

[zriasstuff]

All because I liked a boy

Theodore Nott x reader

Before you scroll: THANK YOU FOR 314 FOLLOWERS RAHHH <<33 (the pi number is perfect) and special shoutout to @babygoddam who ALWAYS likes my shit first, you a real one. Feel absolutely free to send in requests (totally not because im running out of ideas)!!!!

Summary: Theo is dating Pansy, but is also seeing you secretly behind her back. What happens when you get sick of that and present him an ultimatum. Will it be her or you? And what if a unexpected friendship develops from all this?

It’s your last year at hogwarts, so that makes you about 17/18 yo.

Everything about your clandestine meetups behind the quidditch field was morally wrong. As you’re walking up to your meetup spot, you feel the urge to stop yourself and go back to your dorm. You want to, and most importantly should stop making the same mistake again and again. But your lack of self control would be the eventual death of you.

Actually, no. Theodore Nott would be the eventual death of you. He was the reason for your lack of self control.

The freezing January air made it impossible to breathe, your red nose hurting from every drawn breath. Shivers ran through your body, all the way to your head where you were experiencing a first hand brain freeze. How was it possible that this is what your life has come to.

Through the foggy air, you eventually make out a tall and lean figure, approaching you with arms crossed and head down. Death has arrived.

“My bad on suggesting to meet up here in this crappy weather, but my dorm is occupied”, he breathed out while clouds of vapor escaped his mouth.

“What about the library then?”, you suggested. Any place inside would be better than this.

“No”, he decisively rejects your idea while shaking his head.

“Why not”, you ask.

“You know why”, he says, sounding increasingly annoyed.

“I don’t” You do. You know exactly why. You want to hear him say it.

“Don’t do this”

“I really don’t know”

“Stop, I really don't want to do this right now” Theo let out a repressed huff with his head lowered. One of his hands that was in his jacket pocket began ruffling through his hair. Whenever he was uneasy he did that.

“Fine”, you let it go. Truth be told, you were also afraid that you wouldn’t be able to digest what Theo would say. On one side, you knew that this was wrong. But on the other hand, admitting it was wrong meant that you would have to end it, otherwise it would make you guys horrible people.

Not that you weren’t horrible people now, but saying it just made it all the more real. Real is bad. Reality sucks. It was easier to hide in a bubble.

Theo looks you in the eyes again, assessing that this probably wasn’t a great time to do anything. But he didn’t want to make you feel like trash either.

“So how was your day?”, he awkwardly asks.

“We don’t have to do this, don’t pretend you actually care”, you sigh. His attempt was meant well, but it was futile. He could never make you feel fully cared for. And that was alright. You know you don’t deserve it anyway.

“I do care”, he exhales while nailing you with his intense stare.

“For your dirty mistress? How naive do you think i am”

“So you do want to do this right now” You thought you didn’t, but today seemed to be especially hard on you. Perhaps it was the stress from classes, perhaps it was the passive aggressive letter you got from your parents, or perhaps it was Theo barely acknowledging your existence in between classes.

“If not now, when then? I'm getting sick of not talking about it” It was time to face reality and put your fears aside.

“I thought you were okay with this”, he raised his voice confusingly.

“With being your side chick who can’t be seen or associated with you in public? Am I okay with seeing you prance around with Pansy, while I have to meet you out here like this?”

“Hey I'm not the bad guy who is forcing you to do this”

Theodore Nott wasn’t forcing you to do anything. No. He would just call you baby behind closed doors. Buy you flowers. Secretly spend nights with you. Anything a boyfriend would do, just without the emotional attachment.

And Pansy. His girlfriend he actually prances around with. His girlfriend who thinks she means the world to him. This slippery slope with Theodore down to where you were now started approximately four months ago. He had gotten into a really bad fight with her and at a party he started flirting with you. He lied about having broken up with her.

The worst part— you didn’t even find out up until two months later. In those two months he had obviously made up with her and didn’t end it, but he was sneaky. You had to give him credit for having juggled the two of you for that long without either noticing. You guess it helped that you were in Gryffindor. But after two months Theo got tired of being on edge all the time, so he decided to make his relationship with Pansy public again.

Why didn't you end it with him back then? Good question. All you remember is a bunch of unconvincing bullshit from him. But as unconvincing as it was, he gave you a sense of comfort. And although he didn’t make you feel fully cared for, he was still better than your supposed friends. Those two months you lived in the unknown were special, you had to admit. You felt special. But even the brightest spark eventually dies out.

“I know you’re not forcing me, but I'm getting fucking exhausted of this. And I feel terrible about Pansy”

“Why do you even care about her?”

“WHY DON’T YOU?!”, you suddenly burst out. Yes, he chose her over you because he had been together with her before you got together with him. Admittedly, he’s treating her better than you. But you don’t hate her. She actually didn't do anything. And unlike you, she isn't actively hurting you. It was so frustrating to know that you were choosing some guy over the “girls protect girls” vow. All because you couldn’t handle being alone again. Pathetic.

“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound Theo? Saying you like both of us, but in reality you treat both of us like shit.”

“Well what do you want me to do?”, he angrily asked.

“I'm giving you an ultimatum. Either you break up with me and stay with her. Or you tell her and deal with her breaking up with you. If she doesn’t, and if you also don’t, then I will anyway”

Perhaps it sounded a bit too extreme at the moment. You were definitely the last person to talk about morals, but it wasn’t too late yet. In the long run, it would benefit Theo too. A huge weight was finally going to be lifted off of your shoulders.

“Please, you’re not thinking straight”, he pitifully pleads in a last attempt to escape his responsibility and ultimately reality.

“I mean this works just fine. Pansy is happy, I can make you happy, and i promise you won’t feel like a dirty mistress”

A scoff is all you’re able to respond with. “You got until the end of the week, otherwise I will immediately cut off any ties with you”

Are you as important to Theo as he says you are? It’s wrong, but innerly you wish that he would break up with Pansy without telling her. That would be ideal for you. Freaking Theodore Nott, who showed you what kind of person you really were.

The next day, you caught Theo and Pansy making out in the hallways. “Ugh get a room”, you think to yourself. The day after, still no change. And on the day after that, everything was still the same. And as one could imagine, on the fourth day, still nothing.

With Friday approaching, Theo would only have two more days to make his decision according to your ultimatum. Perhaps he thought that you didn’t mean it seriously, but you did. You swore to yourself that if after two days still nothing happened, you’d break up with him. “Break up”, as in quit being fuck buddies, it wasn’t like you were in a real relationship.

Consumed by your own thoughts, you apparently missed McGonagall's announcement. Suddenly half the class was packing their stuff and getting up.

“Hey what’s going on”, you ask a guy sitting in front of you.

“Did you seriously not pay attention?”, he hisses.

“What do you think, smart-ass, since I’m asking you right now?” This was not the time to be lecturing you.

“We got a new seating arrangement, she just read out all the pairs who are going to be sitting next to each other. I think you’re with Pansy”

Shit. You swallow hard at the mention of her name.

“You sure?”, you ask dumbfounded.

“I mean she’s walking up to you right now”, he says shrugging his shoulders, “anyway gotta go”

You hope to fuck that he was wrong. But after turning around frantically, you observe that Pansy was in fact walking up to you. Out of all forty students, of course you would be next to her.

“Heyyy, looks like we’re going to be stuck with each other for a semester. Cute bracelet by the way, where’d you get it?”, she greets you in quite a chipper tone.

“You’re boyfriend actually got it for me after our first time”, is what you would say if you didn’t lie. Instead you reply “thanks, a friend got it for me but I don’t know from where”

“Y’know I actually have a really similar one”, she says as she’s sitting down next to you and pulls up her sleeve, “Theo gave it to me”. It was basically the same bracelet, just in gold instead of silver. So, what were the chances that Theo bought several bracelets in the same shop and just gave them out to whoever he fancied at the moment. Not even the slightest effort.

“How sweet”, you force yourself to say in the happiest tone you can manage.

“So what’s going on in your life?”, she continues the conversation, “I just realized that I barely know anything about you, even though we’ve known each other since year one”

You almost want to say “trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going on in my life”. Instead you say “nothing much, I’ve been thinking about maybe trying out for the quidditch team”

“Oh how cool, I’ve seen you fly in class, you totally should try out. You know during the last game between Slytherin and Gryffindor Blaise did this really funny thing where…”

What Blaise did, you’ll never know because you tuned out. But what you do know now is that Pansy is actually an incredibly nice person. In just five minutes she has shown you support, complimented you and began talking to you like you were her new friend. Perhaps she thought you could be friends. After the lesson ended, you felt almost carefree. You guys barely got any work done, but instead gossiped about anything that came to mind. Time practically passed away in seconds, and you were just hugging Pansy goodbye before going separate ways. Nothing felt weird at all until…

As you’re about to pull away from the hug, you catch Theo staring intensely from the corner of your eye. Was he suspecting something? Truth be told, you could’ve inquired more about his and Pansy’s relationship, but you decided to not be nosy. The less you knew, the better.

Later on, after you spent hours feeling like an empty shell of a human being, you slouch to your dinner table. During the day your thoughts felt like a huge, untieable knot, so you decided to ignore everything. When all classes ended, you immediately hopped into bed, rolling around, slowly rotting. Feeling nothing was better than thinking too much. There was simply too much. There was the question of whether you were a terrible human being, wondering if you should completely rebrand yourself, thinking about what Theo would do and about how it would affect Pansy, and so much more. In the end, nothing would be answered by just thinking about it.

Even while eating dinner, you have to restrain yourself from letting your most inner thoughts wander. Though, Pansy sure added fuel to the fire by smiling at you. Genuinely flashing you the purest, brightest smile. For no reason at all. Just to be nice probably. Instead of smiling back like a normal human being, you almost choke on your water.

This was it. You couldn’t pretend to be unbothered. You had to end it. You hated that option because it meant that Theo could escape from his responsibility, but it also meant that you could redeem yourself. Right? After all, you also carried some of that responsibility.

To contact Theo, you wrote “meet me at astronomy tower, important!” on a small piece of paper and slipped it into his hand after dinner was over. Hopefully no one saw that transaction. Since everyone always pushed another, it was only natural to bump into someone and touch their hand or arm.

Halfway on your way to the tower, you question if all this had been a huge mistake. Would you even have the guts to do what you had set out to do ? Theo could be so goddamn persuasive sometimes.

On your last few steps you lose a bit of balance and barely make it to the balcony, feeling like you would collapse any time soon. It even takes you a second to realize that Theo was already there. Before he turned around you just thought that it was some random guy.

“How were you faster than me”, you huff completely out of breath.

“I have my ways”, he says. “So why’d you want to meet me here”, he asks, seeming disturbingly nonchalant. As if he couldn’t guess the possible reasons.

“I want this to be as quick and painless as possible”, you begin. You gain an eyebrow raise from the otherwise collected looking guy.

“Let’s just officially end this. You and me. We are officially over.”

You were pretty sure that you didn’t sound as confident as you wish you had, but nonetheless you had done it. Officially calling the breaks would be your ticket to a normal life again. Whew did that feel freeing. But this wasn’t fully over yet.

“I thought it was up to me”, Theo sounded agitated now.

“Well i changed my mind”

“That’s not fai-“

“Seriously, Theo, you want to talk about fair ?”

“So what if i told you that I would’ve chosen you over Pansy”, he tells you while throwing his arms around. “You just want to give up like a coward?”, he spits at you, blowing up in anger and disbelief. His widening eyes and clenching jaw told you were enough to convince you that he was full on serious.

Is that what you were doing? Giving up on something genuine? You never thought about it in that way. Sure, your connection to Theo was undeniably strong, but were you ready for actual commitment?

“You don’t get to say that”, you defensively say as you take a step back. He immediately gets in your face again.

With tears forming in your eyes, threatening to spill out, and quivering lips, you try your best to curve your mouth upward and take your last stand.

“I am not giving up. We never had anything to begin with because you were a coward.”

He steps even closer, his nose touching yours. His dead brown eyes looked hauntingly beautiful in the moment. “But don’t you see, I want to give us a try”

“I CAN’T DO THIS THEO”, you yell in his face, not caring that your tears streamed down your face. All that bottled up anger came down to this. “WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, THERE IS NO US.” Just as you say that, you frantically tear off his gifted silver bracelet and throw it in his face. “We’re done Theodore” are your last words before storming off.

When you notice him following, you run even faster, yelling “STOP FOLLOWING ME FOR FUCKS SAKE”. Eventually you stop hearing his footsteps, and you allow yourself to break down in an empty corridor. You keep muttering “it’s for the best” as a way of reassurance, but you don’t even know if that’s true anymore.

That night you went to sleep, wanting nothing but to drown out everything. Instead you got a fucking nightmare about the entire events at the astronomy tower. Only, you were watching from the third person point of view this time.

Luckily, as you wake up, you realize that it was a Saturday, so you could be in peace a little longer. Apparently you also woke up pretty late because you were alone in the dorm. Great, your “friends” didn’t even bother pretending to include you. It was always like that. They were nice to your face, but actively excluded you. What was it about you that alienated you from everyone?

*BANG*

HOLY FUCK.

You suddenly jolt up and watch Pansy come through the door. She looked furious and extremely messy. You notice her heavy eye bags and smeared mascara.

“YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHY THE FUCK YOUR BRACELET WAS ON THEOS NIGHTSTAND?!?”, she shouts, probably loud enough for everyone in Gryffindor to hear.

“What are you talking ab-” It was mid sentence when you realize that you in fact threw your bracelet in Theo’s face yesterday and that Pansy recognised it from McGonagall's class.

There was no point in lying. “Pansy please I can explain”, you desperately choke out, feeling a knot in your throat.

“Fuck you. I actually liked you, but i guess you are just another snake”

Before you can actually explain yourself, she already left. All by yourself, you begin to sob. Perhaps your “friends” were right in excluding you. You wouldn’t even want to be friends with yourself.

This mess you were in— what if you never went to that party where you met Theo? But that wasn’t even the most important part. You had to find a way to make it up to Pansy.

Argh this is it…for now ? So if you read the deleted original fic “Baby”, you will recognise the first part, but not the rest. I asked if you wanted a pt.2, but then i realised i could just make all of it into one, longer part. I really really hope you found this if you read “Baby”. And who knows maybe this storyline will continue.

Also thank you for the people who commented, i tagged y’all (except for two i couldn’t find), so you could find this more easily. @onyxwingsandcrowblackdreams @princessofsilverandserpents @pumpkinchee @laur20a23 @ladyblablabla @the-mrs-malik-styles @boomdolle @mmeskywalker

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Seven.

chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter eight. chapter nine. chapter ten. series masterlist. the playlist.

Chapter Synopsis - Everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. At least, that’s what you and Bucky keep telling yourselves.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption.

Word Count - 4.8k

Author's Note - I can only apologise for the delay on this one angels!! january blues, a crazy work schedule, writers block.. they all came to play at the same time. but chapter seven is finally here!! I hope you enjoy it. thank you for the continued love on this - words can’t describe how incredible it is.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

“Why aren’t you more surprised?”

Stella simply shrugs, sipping her cappuccino as if she has all the time in the world.

“Babe, with all due respect… I’ve been waiting for you to initiate this conversation for like two months.”

You look at her incredulously, fiddling nervously with a chip in the handle of your coffee cup.

“…Why? How?”

She smiles softly, reaching for your hand across the table.

“You’re miserable.”

You take a deep breath, and then another. After the fifth one, you find the courage to meet her eyes.

“How did you know?”

“Because I know you. You’re a hell of an actress, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not you-”

“I know. Hey, I know. You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“I do.”

She waits for you, patient as ever. You’d be lying if you said the guilt wasn’t eating you up, slowly but surely from the inside out. You feel like you’ve let her down, disappointing the one person who’s given you your dream.

You realise, suddenly, that you haven't told anyone the full truth about everything. Not your Mom, not your Dad, not Lacie. Your Tethering, Bucky, the move to California - all your feelings and emotions over the past how ever many months have been bottled up and stowed away on a shelf, never to be opened. But you have the urge, now, to unscrew the cap and pour it out across the table, regardless of the mess.

So, you do.

"It's not you. You've given me everything I could have ever wanted, Stel, and I couldn't be more grateful. You know that, right?"

She nods, squeezing your hand.

"It's just been hard... emotionally. So, I, the thing is, I just..."

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

"I'm Tethered. I have a soulmate, and he lives back home. We found out literally right before you called me and asked about the business. I couldn't turn you down, I knew that this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I couldn't just let it pass me by. I knew we could do this, me and you, together. And I thought I’d be able to cope.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“Being away from Bucky has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. It’s like… I can’t breathe properly without him. Food isn’t as flavourful, colours aren’t as bright, the sun isn’t as warm. The separation is actually having physical effects that I’m not sure I can handle anymore.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’ve held out for as long as I possibly can. I was hoping that maybe it’d pass, that we’d get used to it and it’d all wear off. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s worse than ever. The separation is ruining us both.”

You inhale. You hold it for five seconds. You exhale.

“I’m sorry. I know you’re going to tell me not to apologise, but I am. I’m sorry. You’ve given me everything and I’m just… quitting on you. I love this job so much, Stella. I can’t even find the words to describe how much. But I think either me or Bucky will break soon. And I have to prevent that from happening.”

You inhale.

Stella looks at you with so much compassion, you fight the urge to burst into tears.

You exhale.

“Listen to me, okay? You are one of the best damn bakers I have ever met in my life. No one in culinary school even came close to you. I always knew that I wanted you on my team, by my side, in my corner - in the kitchen, and everywhere else. But-"

You chew your bottom lip, wincing when you taste copper.

“We don’t have to be in each other’s pockets. We can be business partners and not see each other everyday. These are the joys of modern technology, babe. We can call, text, video chat, and then schedule in person meetings when we can. If anyone can make a cross country partnership work, it’s us. I mean, come on.”

The weight lifts from your shoulders, slowly but surely. A glowing, molten warmth trickles through your veins, hopeful and real and alive.

“And this,” she picks up your business plan, all printed and pretty. “This is air fucking tight. I’m not saying you picked the wrong career, but… business could definitely be your Plan B.”

You laugh, ignoring the way your voice cracks slightly, still choked with emotion.

“Babe, I was going to franchise the business eventually anyway. Sure, this is a little earlier than I first thought, but why the hell not? We’re successful, we’ve done so well… what’s stopping us? We know we can do this. And I trust you. So much.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, easing your death grip on her hand ever so slightly. “I thought I was gonna ruin everything.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, I promise you. This is a good thing.”

She thinks for a moment, lost in her own thoughts. Suddenly, she grins at you, nosy and mischievous.

“So a soulmate, huh?”

You groan, burying your face in your hands - but you can’t fight the smile that spreads across your cheeks.

“Yeah. It’s been… complicated.”

“He’s that super hot guy that came to see you, right? The one that looks like he could be a model?”

Laughing, you nod, making mental note to relay this to Bucky on the phone later.

“How did it happen? Was it like, a stranger on the street moment?”

“Nope,” you recall fondly. “We knew each other already. He’s my Dad’s best friend.”

Her jaw drops open, eyes flickering across your face.

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Holy shit, babe.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s amazing. Shit, no wonder you’ve been under so much stress. What did your Dad say?”

“He… doesn’t know.”

“What?”

“We need to tell him, I know we do, but it’s just so complicated. I’m worried that it’ll change everything, and not for the better.”

It’s been eating away at you, lately. The fact that your parents don’t know originally made perfect sense, but now? It’s been almost a year. You’ve never kept anything from them for that long. Now, you’re worried that you’ll never be able to undo the damage of lying and keeping secrets from the two people you always promised never to do that to.

"Look, I know I'm not exactly qualified to give out soulmate advice, but... you can't change this. It's literally been written in the stars. Your parents will understand, okay? But the longer you wait to tell them, the worse it'll be."

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s just - it’s tough. It’s gonna change everything, forever.”

“But isn’t that the beauty of it? It’s going to change everything, forever.”

You jump out of your seat and wrap your arms around Stella, holding onto her as tightly as you can. She hugs you back fiercely, speaking a thousand words without saying anything at all.

“Proud of you,” she murmurs into your hair.

“For what?” you laugh.

“Putting yourself first. Your health, your mental wellbeing, all of it. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“Love you,” you whisper, fighting back tears of relief.

“Love you too, my baker extraordinaire.”

You sit back down and take a breath, deep and full. Relaxing into your chair, you allow yourself to finally think about the next steps.

“So, I was thinking about going home and scouting out locations. I have that list of places that you read over in the business plan, but I thought of a couple more last night a few miles further out. I’ve pre prepped a few days worth of our best sellers, so you should be good without me.”

“Of course, babe. I’ve circled a couple where I really liked the look of the listings you’ve printed, and written a couple of notes for you to look over - just logistical stuff. Go back home, see your family and your soulmate,” she smirks, raising her eyebrows suggestively, “and just relax. God knows the stress lately has taken a couple years off your life. Please, get those years back on the beach or with your man or something.”

You laugh, shaking your head. She’s right, though. The stress has been resting stagnant in your muscles, tight and wound, making everything harder. You can’t wait to sit on the sand in Bucky’s arms and feel the tension melt from your body.

“You’re the best, Stella. You know that right?”

“So I’ve been told. Many, many times.”

Hours later, Bucky watches you on video call, laptop propped up on the dresser as you pack your bags excitedly. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he picked up, anticipation of the future lighting up his bones.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You show up at your parents house without warning.

You thought about calling first, but decided it’d be much more fun to surprise them. It’s a Friday evening, and you know they’ll both be sat out on the back deck, drinking wine and recapping their weeks. It’s getting warmer on the East Coast, the sounds of spring and summer slowly filtering through.

Your Mom throws open the door, her face lighting up with glee.

“Babygirl!”

She throws her arms around you, rocking you back and forth so forcefully you’re worried you might fall over.

“My baby,” she exclaims, beaming grin almost blinding you. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She grabs your face in her hands, forcing you to look her in the eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling as the setting sun warms your back.

“Yeah, Mama. I am.”

She believes you. For the first time in a long time, you believe you too.

“Come on. Your Dad is gonna be so excited to see you.”

You leave your bags in the car, prioritising seeing the man who’s currently shaking his hips to the soft salsa music that’s playing.

“Nice moves, Casanova.”

He whips his head around, laughing when he sees you stood against the doorframe watching.

“You like em? I need a partner, babygirl! Come on!”

He grabs your hands, pulling you further into the yard so you have more space. You take up a terrible ballroom dance posture with him, cackling as he dips you backwards and almost drops you.

“Don’t kill my baby, please Jack!” your Mom calls from the kitchen window.

She returns with a glass of pink wine in her hand, gesturing for you to come and get it. Your Dad spins you over to her, steadying your shoulders when you trip over his shoes.

“It’s like The Universe knew you were coming to us tonight, darling. We opened the strawberry wine and everything.”

“My favourite.”

You get comfy on the loveseat, sitting across from your parents who are pressed together on the outdoor sofa. The wine is sweet and sugary and exactly what you needed.

“So, what are you doing here, kiddo?”

“It’s a little… complicated. But the good kind of complicated, I think.”

You start at the beginning. Well, almost. You leave out the part about finding Bucky, waiting for him to be with you when you tell that part of the story. You agreed that you’d talk to your parents about your relationship together, and you’re not about to break that promise. You do, however, explain everything else to them.

They listen carefully, nodding and smiling to let you know they’re still with you. When you talk about the difficulties you’ve faced, they wear matching frowns as your Mom fights back tears. Eventually, you sit in silence, waiting for their reaction.

“I wish you’d said something sooner.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just… I thought I could do it on my own.”

“Honey, you never have to go through anything alone. That’s what we’re here for - we’re like, your built in therapists. Both me and your Dad would have happily listened if you’d called us, no matter the time or place.”

“Thank you. Both of you.”

“So this means you’re moving home?”

You nod, trying to contain the excitement bubbling up inside of you.

“Well it’s a good job we didn’t end up renting your apartment, huh?”

“You didn’t?”

“We thought about it, but it didn’t feel right. And we wanted to see you settle down in California first, just in case. I don’t either of us were ready to see someone else in that place. It’s yours.”

“You big softie,” you tease, nudging your Dad with your foot. He grabs it and squeezes, laughing when you squirm out of his grip.

“Well this is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?”

When you were younger, you used to get embarrassed that your Mom would throw parties for everything. Now, it’s one of your favourite things about her. She’s taught you to embrace the joy of the little things in life.

“What are you thinking, Mama?”

“Tomorrow night, a few friends. I’ll make a big paella, we can drink wine, play cards… what do you say?”

“Sounds perfect.”

And it does. The ease of being back home has calmed you down, untied the knots in your shoulders. You feel warmed by love, from the inside out.

You leave your parent’s house, promising to make a dessert of some kind for tomorrow. As you drive away, you suddenly realise that you’re headed in the wrong direction. You’re not going home. You’re going to the person that feels like home.

Bucky.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

He’s waiting for you on his front porch when you pull up.

“Hi, honey baby.”

“Hi, handsome.”

You launch yourself into his arms, savouring the warmth rolling off of him in waves. He smells like fresh linen and sea salt and all your future plans.

“You felt me coming, didn’t you?”

“From a mile off.”

He’s grinning, beaming in all directions.

“Good job it wasn’t a surprise visit, huh?”

“There’s no such thing anymore.”

“Good.”

He grabs your face in his work rough hands, gazing at you as if you’re the sun. You realise, suddenly, that you are. You are the one thing that his world revolves around. And he is yours. Forever.

“You gonna kiss me, Buck, or just stare at me, hmm?”

He chuckles before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh in contentment and pull him closer by his shirt, tilting your head back to let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like scotch and spearmint, a perfect picture of his evening.

“Have you been drinking alone, cowboy?”

“Needed some liquid courage. Knew you’d come by.”

“I make you nervous, huh?”

The filthy smirk written across your face sends electricity crackling across his skin, the hairs on his arms standing up.

“Thought you’d have figured that out by now.”

“You’re really blowing up my ego, you know. I make the Bucky Barnes nervous. Who’d have thought?”

He shuts you up by kissing you again, snaking his hands around your back to plaster your bodies together. You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on it slightly.

“You’re letting your hair grow.”

“You like it long.”

You stop for a moment, watching his face carefully.

“Yeah. I do. How’d you know?”

“You pull it more when it’s long. Can feel how much you like it.”

“You’re a menace,” you laugh. “How about you take me inside, and I’ll show you just how much I like it? Unless you wanna give your neighbours front row seats…”

He chuckles and shakes his head before throwing you over his shoulder, laughing harder when you start shrieking. He carries you over the threshold, a beautiful prediction of years to come.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Bucky spend the evening in his kitchen with the windows open, watching the setting sun. The gentle ocean breeze flows through the room, tussling Bucky’s chocolate brown hair and glinting off the ice in his rocks glass.

“You want me to come with you tomorrow, when you scout locations? I’ll be your chauffeur, if you like.”

“What about work?”

“I’m the boss, baby.”

“So you keep reminding me.”

He kicks you lightly under the table, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him.

“Yeah, Buck. I’d love it if you came with. You can use your contractor knowledge and help me out.”

“It’s a date. You want me to bring my clipboard? Tape measure? Mechanical pencil?”

“You gonna bring your talking machinery too, Bob The Builder?”

Bucky stands from his chair and pulls yours out, wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up. He spins you around before putting you down and dragging you up the stairs, kicking his bedroom door open.

He throws you onto the bed unceremoniously, chuckling when you almost bounce off. You toss your shirt at his face, before shucking off your jeans and doing the same thing. He catches them with ease, winking at you before undressing himself.

He crawls up your body, kissing any skin he can find as he goes. He starts at your ankle, before moving to your knee, your thigh, your hip, your stomach, your chest, your neck, and eventually your lips. You’re almost shaking, alive with the anticipation of having every inch of Bucky pressed against you.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he rasps into your ear. “I’ll give it to you. Anything.”

“Just want you.”

“Need to get you ready first,” he murmurs, fingers trailing between your legs. His breath hitches when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh honey,” he groans. “You been like this all night? Hmm?”

“Since I first saw you waiting for me.”

He groans again, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Please, Buck. Just wanna feel you.”

Who is he to deny you when you ask so damn pretty?

“You’re killing me,” he mutters against your skin.

Bucky slides into you with one smooth thrust, biting down on your shoulder as he does it. You shudder at the feeling, and at the thought of having the imprint of his teeth on you later.

You both gasp, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in to you. You loop your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass to press him even closer.

“Fuck me,” you choke out. “Need it, Buck.”

“My needy girl,” he chuckles lowly. “Gonna give you everything.”

Bucky retracts his hips before thrusting back into you, deep and full. You whine, and he’s convinced the sound will never be matched. It’s like angel song, rose tinted and heavenly.

He fucks you into the mattress, long, slow thrusts that make you want to cry a little. You’re not sure you’ve ever felt so connected to him - every single part of you touching his, bodies plastered together and souls intertwined.

He presses open mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, right into your sweet spot. When he feels you getting close, he dances his fingers down your body and circles your clit, languid but precise. Your back arches as you find your release, clawing your nails down his back and locking your ankles around his hips.

“Oh fuck, honey - fuck.”

Bucky finishes with a shudder, sinking his teeth back into your shoulder. His raspy groans hit your ears just right, sweat dripping down onto your dewy skin.

“Love you, baby. Fuck, I love you.”

You’re both panting, trying to catch your breath as you come down from your highs.

“I love you too,” you giggle, pressing kisses to his damp forehead.

He collapses his weight onto you, chuckling when you groan. You push him off so he can lie next to you, strong arm thrown over your stomach as he pulls you in close.

You stay tangled for a while, letting the breeze from the window cool you both down. Bucky traces absentminded patterns across your back, rough fingertips sending goosebumps over your skin.

“I’m excited for tomorrow,” you murmur, keeping the volume low.

“Me too. Feels like a big step for our future, doesn’t it?”

“I just never imagined I’d have… this. You, the job I’ve always dreamed of… it doesn’t feel real. I mean, we’re going to look at places for a second location of my business. Who ever could have predicted I’d say that sentence?”

“Everything works out the way it’s supposed to. I told you that, that night on the beach. Before we knew. Remember?”

“I remember,” you smile, recalling that evening. You’d felt so inexplicably connected to Bucky that day. Little did you know what was to follow.

You fall asleep wrapped up in Bucky’s arms, warm and content.

You’ve never known happiness like it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The day flies by with Bucky by your side.

You’re a little out of your depth, admittedly. You don’t know much about real estate, or what makes a viable location for a bakery. But Bucky helps - explaining what to avoid, warning signs to look out for, checking out all of the boring stuff like gas mains and water pipes and backup generators. He never patronises you, even when you look at him like a deer in headlights. He clarifies himself when you become unsure, laying out explanations carefully and simply. He’s the perfect right hand man.

“You almost ready, honey?”

“Yeah Buck, give me one second!”

You walk into the kitchen where Bucky’s leaning against the counter, beer in hand. He’s in loose jeans and a linen button up, the white shirt beautifully showing off his tanned skin. He’s got several buttons undone, toned chest peeking through. He looks effortlessly perfect.

You stop in front of him, fixing the buckle on your sandals. You look up at Bucky to find him staring at you, open mouthed.

“You alright, handsome?”

“You look… you look - fuck, you look gorgeous.”

Heat rises up your skin, still so susceptible to his compliments.

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” he chuckles into your mouth.

Bucky rests a hand against the base of your throat, pulling you into him. His other hand plays with the hem of your dress, your skin burning where his fingers brush. You kiss him back harder, groaning when he nips at your bottom lip. He sucks on your tongue, and your knees buckle.

You pull back suddenly, putting three feet of distance between you.

“We need to go.”

Your hair is tousled, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as you try to regain your composure. Bucky smirks at you, laughing when you flip him off.

“Come on. My parents and paella await us.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Your Mom has done it again.

Golden lights adorn the beams of the deck, the table littered with flowers and wine glasses begging to be filled. There’s already a few people scattered around the yard, chatting and laughing in the warm evening air.

“Oh baby, you look so beautiful.”

Your Mom engulfs you in a hug, pulling back to look at you from a distance. You’re wearing a yellow sundress, form fitting in all the right places. The skirt blows in the gentle breeze, fanning around you like an angels halo.

“This place looks amazing, Mama. I made you a tropical tart - it’s pineapple and coconut, with a mango coulis.”

“Oh, it’s gorgeous. I’ll put it in the fridge and get you some wine, honey. Buck, you want wine or beer?”

“Wine, please Lori. You need a hand?”

“If you’re offering,” she winks, laughing when he pokes her in the side as they leave towards the kitchen.

“Your father says you’re moving back home.”

You turn around to see Cora looking at you expectantly. You haven’t seen her since the incident that evening months ago.

“Uh, yeah. I love California, but I think I outgrew it after culinary school.”

She nods at you in faux sympathy, overbearing and sickly sweet.

“Aw, sweetie. Sometimes, things just don’t work out the way we hoped, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you hum noncommittally. “Yeah, I guess.”

You look for an exit, but she rubs your arm in support, pulling you back.

“I saw you today, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes! Down on Maple, by the corner. You were with Bucky.”

You freeze suddenly, blood running cold. You and Bucky are always affectionate, whether you mean to be or not. It’s just the way it is, being alongside your soulmate. Of course, Cora doesn’t know this. All she’s seen is you, out in town with your Dad’s best friend, looking cosier than platonic.

Your ears are ringing. You wonder, for a second, if you’re experiencing deja vu.

“Yeah, he… he has contracting experience. Just needed a second opinion. I’m no builder, after all.”

You force a laugh, willing the ground to swallow you up.

“You two are friends? You seem pretty close.”

She’s watching you, waiting for a reaction. You don’t give it to her.

“I’ve known him for a while, I see him often. He’s a good friend to my Dad, so you can imagine we know each other pretty well by now.”

“Yeah. It sure looked like it.”

You’re wracking your brain, trying to understand what she saw. Then it hits you.

On the corner of Maple is a florist’s, alive with blooming flowers and plants of every colour. You’d been admiring the tulips when Bucky had wrapped his arms around you from behind, whispering in your ear about how you’re the prettiest flower of all, honey.

There’s no running away from this. She’s caught you, in broad daylight.

“We’re friends,” you reiterate, praying for mercy.

You shoot her a fake smile before turning on your heel, making a beeline for the kitchen to find your Mom. When you get there, you gulp down your entire glass of strawberry wine, begging the sugar to lift your mood and calm your nerves.

The rest of the night goes off fairly smoothly.

You eat paella and fruit tart, drink wine, laugh with your parents and their friends. Bucky occasionally slips a hand beneath the table, squeezing your thigh in silent reassurance. You tangle your fingers with his for a moment before letting go, praying everyone else is none the wiser.

Every time Cora opens her mouth, your chest constricts a little. But she seems to have learnt her lesson somewhat, only speaking to tell obnoxiously long and tangent filled stories and offer comments no one asked for. Eventually, you all disperse from the table, making conversation elsewhere.

“What’s on your mind?” a low voice rasps in your ear.

You’re sat on the swing in the corner of the garden, watching the world go by. Bucky snakes his arm over the back of it, fingertips brushing your shoulder.

“Cora saw us today. Think she knows.”

“She’s a fucking nuisance.”

You laugh, the sound vibrating through Bucky’s bones.

“Yeah, she is. She’s also a gossip. She won’t keep her mouth shut for long if she thinks she’s sitting on something newsworthy.”

He thinks for a moment, taking a deep breath.

“So we tell them.”

“So we tell them.”

You lean back into Bucky’s arm, inhaling the familiar scent of peace.

“We should do it as soon as possible.”

“How about tomorrow?”

You nod, biting your glossy lips.

“Yeah. We need to do it sometime, and we’ve delayed the inevitable for long enough. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

Bucky nudges closer to you, so your sides are pressed together.

“It’ll all work out the way it’s supposed to, honey girl.”

You smile gently.

“I know. I don’t think I believed you the first time you said that to me. But I do now.”

“You and me against the world, baby.”

“You and me against the world, Buck.”

It truly feels like it, at the moment. You and Bucky against the world.

tag list part one

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff  @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara  @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen   @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance  @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

[shawnxstyles]

the only one

DATE: JANUARY 2, 2024

summary: you go on your first date with peter, and it ends even better than you could have ever expected. ;)

request: yes!

words: 6.3k

warnings: SMUT (f-receiving [oral, fingering, multiple orgasms], protected sex, dirty talk), language, and the most gentlemanly man.

note: i cannot believe i’m finally writing another gyno!peter after all this time… anyway, this is NOT an actual series, simply just more situations/scenes of these two together!

gynecologist!peter x patient!y/n

–

Every date that you’ve been on in the past never made you this nervous. You didn’t spend two hours just deciding on what to wear and taking an extra hour to prepare yourself. You worked for a fashion magazine, editing and reviewing comments and critiques. You were surrounded by clothes and creativity all day, but struggled to pick a “first-date look” from your closet. You swore you read something about that before…

You never thought first dates were anything more than a simple introduction, a first impression of another human being. It was one of the foundations of the question, “Could I get along well enough with this person to go on a second date?”.

You had only been on two first dates: one with your ex, who you were with for four months, and recently with that guy from your work. The second one was mainly just a hook-up, and the first one obviously led to some type of relationship that didn’t work out in the end. Maybe you didn’t have enough experience in the dating world to be wondering if the amount of nerves you had right now was healthy.

Your hands were clammy as you strapped on your black heels. You noticed you were swallowing more frequently than normal, and you didn’t understand why. When you looked in the mirror, your hands flattened out your black dress more times than you could count, ridding wrinkles that aren’t even there.

After your appointment a few weeks ago, you had texted Peter. More specifically, you texted him the next day. Immediately after simply saying hello and your name, you thought of how many other people he may have given his phone number to. Or worse, how many people he had fingered in his office… You started worrying if you shouldn’t have texted him at all because he was a doctor. He was probably too busy for anything. It was just a nice gesture, maybe?

But an hour later, in the evening, he had texted you back with a short apology. He was working a little past the clock in order to get more doctor stuff done. Even his texts were sweet with a dab of charm. How do women control themselves around him?

Or maybe it was just you, and you were a fucking weirdo.

Yeah it could be that.

Peter and you went on to texting every now and then to texting daily. Texting him was something to look forward to after a long day at work. It also became pretty clear that he wasn’t texting anyone else because well, he was working throughout the day doing doctor stuff while you were doing editor stuff. He would even text you during his lunch break and that always made your heart skip to see his message in the middle of the day.

One night in particular, you were complaining to Peter (yes, you had gotten to the point where you could complain about little inconveniences) about your sink malfunctioning. Instead of asking you to send pictures of the pipes under the sink, he had you FaceTime him. It was the first time you guys have ever called and the second time you’ve ever seen his face, so your heart was a little race-y. But when that charming, wide grin flashed on your screen, he easily slipped into conversation. Peter helped you fix your sink with a little wrench movement along with replacing a broken screw through the phone.

It wasn’t awkward. It was relieving.

You didn’t have to force a certain personality in order to engage in a conversation with him. You felt more yourself than you ever have when talking to him, flowing easily like two streams into one. You hadn’t even realized how late it was by the time you guys ended the call until he was gone. The serenity of your place felt a little more emptier than usual without the sound of his beautiful accent from your speaker. It was nearly midnight by the time you went to bed, wondering how things would be if you and Peter took your friendship a bit further.

Would talking always be this simple? Would he always be this charming?

After that night, you would make excuses to call him. He never denied you, even after he told you he had a long day at the hospital. You guys were not only texting now, but calling daily. You would get excited for his texts and calls, looking forward to talking to him. That’s when you realized you wanted more with him. It felt like you knew each other forever, but it had merely been a few weeks. You wanted to go on a date with him, wanted to be with him in person again. And of course, your mind wandered to the thought of how he is in bed.

If he was that good with just his quick fingers, then how good was he with more space and time? You began to dream about it.

Then he finally asked you. It was so sudden, you honestly didn’t expect it.

You were debriefing your plans for the week and what you had to do at work.

“Sometimes, I feel like my life is on repeat,” You chuckle, but it sounds tired.

“You’re always doing the same thing every week?” Peter questions. He found that he loves just listening to you talk for hours about whatever. He prompts you with questions, and you always answer thoroughly. It’s like an unspoken routine for you two.

“I mean, it feels like that. I never have time to go out and do anything. And when I do, I don’t go out,” You half-smile to yourself as you look down at your lap. You sounded kind of lame, so you were trying not to cringe at yourself.

“You told me your agenda for this week, but what about Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oh, well, you know I don’t work on the weekends. Sometimes, I get extra stuff done at home, but only because I’m bored. I watch TV…” You squint your eyes, trying to think of things you do on the weekend when you’re not busy. “You know, I’m listening to what I’m saying, and I am so lame. God, I need a life outside of work.”

“You’re not lame. Just busy. Give yourself some credit,” he waves off your dig at yourself, and you don’t stop yourself from smiling. He’s just too nice. You can’t take your eyes off him through the small screen as he watches you back.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough about me. What are your weekend plans?” You definitely talk too much, so you always attempt to ask him questions back.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you out,” he very casually says, nonchalantly staring at you through the camera. “Unless you’re busy watching TV.”

“W-What?” Heat crawled up your neck and ears, skin flaming off of his quick words. He’s always charming and always confident with you, so why are you surprised he’s this smooth? You wonder if he’s been thinking about it for a while or if he just got the idea randomly. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want to. In that case, I am joking…”

“I want to, Peter,” You smile with the words. It feels impossible to lower your cheek muscles because of the giddiness coursing through you. “If I’m honest, I’ve kind of been waiting for you to ask me.”

“I was a little slow, yeah?”

“Yeah, both the turtle and the hare beat you to the finish line,” His wonderful laugh echoes through the speaker of your phone, and it fills you with warmth.

While other people have belittled you and forced you to be one way, Peter naturally allows you to be yourself. Your wit flourishes, and your insecurities fade into unique parts of you. Whether you two are friends or more, you need more people like Peter in your life.

After you two had confirmed the plans for Saturday, you two both went to bed when the call ended. When your head hits the pillow, it’s instantly filled with scenarios of you and Peter. Mostly how your first date might go. Is he the type to pull out a chair for you? Definitely. Would he pay without a second glance? Probably, knowing he has that doctor paycheck. Would he kiss you after walking you back to your door? Maybe, maybe not.

But he did finger-fuck you in his office, so nothing is really that impossible.

So, you let your mind wander for the rest of the night while you sleep peacefully. Yes, you had some great dreams.

–

Instead of texting you that he’s here, Peter knocks on your door. The sound itself made your heart accelerate instantly as you stride quickly to answer it. You’ve been overthinking all the ways that this day could go bad, seriously hoping that it doesn’t.

“Hey,” Peter says, clearly eyeing you up and down. He sounds slightly breathless, but not as if he just ran to your door. No, more like he’s speechless. But you could just be overanalyzing every little detail.

“Hey,” As you repeat the word back, you’re both silent for a second. It’s not awkward as it is tense. You’re both just observing and taking in the appearance of the other, appreciating the time and effort in the looks. Peter’s wearing a navy button-up with black slacks. The first two buttons are undone, giving you a peek at his seemingly smooth chest. He’s not wearing a jacket, so you get a view of his arms. From the way the rich fabric stretches around his muscles, it’s obvious that he works out. He just keeps getting better. He continues to check more of your boxes. “Let me just go grab my purse really quick.”

You snatch your bag off of the coffee table after checking you have everything. What if his one flaw is that he won’t pay for at least half the dinner? You must prepare for all the possible outcomes.

“You look brilliant,” You can see him swallow before his compliment, and you wonder if he’s as nervous as you are. He never makes it a point to look even the slightest bit unsure, which you admire. He’s very charming, which takes a lot of confidence, and he’s very good at it. When he asked you out in his office, you saw that persona slip just a tad, enough for you to see that he is human and that he gets nervous too. You found him adorable. You still do.

“You as well,” You blush as you shut the door behind you. The two of you walk to his car, and of course, he opens the door for you. You can’t stop blushing. “Seriously, how do you make such a simple outfit look so good?”

“Unbutton it,” he answers before gently shutting your door closed. Your mind instantly went to places that it shouldn’t have, making your skin burn. You thought about unbuttoning his shirt slowly and sensually until it fell down his bulky arms. You thought about unbuttoning his slacks and palming his cock. He would be so hard for you, and you didn’t hesitate to get on your knees. God, you wished it was real because you truly would not hesitate for this man.

You shake your head, attempting to rid yourself of those dirty thoughts, so you can have a peaceful date. A first date with Peter.

–

When you guys get to the restaurant, that small voice in the back of your head expects it to be awkward the second you sit down. But once again, you were proven incorrect.

Peter instantly engages in a smooth conversation, asking how your week was overall. You told him all about work and the papers you’re reviewing, and he told you about some of his patients. Every time he mentions anything doctor related, it just makes you swoon. It’s impressive how intelligent he is, and even more so how hard he works. It’s obvious he loves what he does, and you never realized that loving one’s passion was a must-have in your partner checklist.

You also just love the way he talks. His accent makes your skin hot and your spine tingle. Your mind wanders to places it shouldn’t more often than not. And his gaze never leaves yours, only when talking to the waiter when ordering.

There is never a dull moment. Even as you were patiently waiting for your food, you still found things to talk about.

“What do you think they’re celebrating?” he asks, observing two people in the back corner with smiles on their faces.

“They’re dressed nicely, and they’re holding hands too much to be together for that long. I’m going to guess the three or four month anniversary.”

“What about them?” he nudges his head in the direction of the people not too far from you two, sitting with straight faces.

“Oh, they’re not celebrating. Probably breaking up.”

“Who goes to such a nice restaurant for a break-up?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like rich people problems to me,” You joke, and you both share a chuckle. It feels nice to casually chat and people watch with somebody else. When your food arrives, you both eat with more adding silence, slipping in words slowly.

“Did I tell you you look really good tonight?” Peter changes the topic, eyes fixating back onto you.

“Yes… Thank you,” You feel yourself blushing all over your body. You use your napkin to wipe your lips, but you’re really using it to protect your face. It was so obvious what his words did to you, that’s probably why he said them. Suddenly, the room feels a little too hot, even just in your dress. “Took me a while to find out what to wear.”

“You could have worn a garbage bag and still looked great,” Peter says, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Oh, stop it. You’re such a charmer. What’s your game? What do you want?” Your words are playful, but the look in Peter’s eye seems more serious. More powerful and heated. Eyes you haven’t seen for a long time in another person, and it freezes you still. The only thing that’s countering the lust circling his irises is the uprising smirk on his lips.

“To take you home.”

Boy, was he a charmer.

“Don’t ask if I’m kidding because I’m not,” he adds, setting down his napkin on the table. He leans over, a curl falling onto his forehead. A hand reaches halfway across the white cloth and rests delicately on your hand. Even his touch was warm and soft, not forceful in any way. “If you want, I’d like to.”

“I…” You were speechless. You knew what your answer would be, but you were just starstruck. How can one person be so gentlemanly yet hot? Cocky yet so sweet? God really didn’t give anyone a chance when making Peter. “Yes, I would like that a lot.”

Your thumb rubs reassuring circles on his thumb while you smile like a fool. Peter’s smirk only got bigger as the night went on.

–

You talked. You laughed. You smiled.

But as he drove you to his house, you got nervous again. Maybe you guys would do something as normal as watch a movie. Maybe even cuddle a bit. But you really, really hoped it was more. Especially after your first meeting, you knew Peter wasn’t too shy about sexual matters. However, maybe he didn’t want to do that with you yet and just wanted to take things slow.

But his office…

When his hand was on yours on the table, your memory was brought back right to the moment of his fingers inside of you in the chair. You remembered the feeling of him pushing his digit in and out repeatedly and how good it felt when he removed his latex gloves. Your core rumbled with lust, getting off on the mere fantasy of it all.

When you arrive at his house, you both silently get out of the car. Besides the sound of nature, you could only hear your racing heart and how it was racking against your ribcage in intense beats. He unlocks his door, keying jingling while the breeze flows past. You’re hyper-aware of every noise as if Peter could hear your choppy breath. When he finally opens the door, he lets you in first and you smile, trying to not let your obvious nerves surface.

But you clearly fail when he points it out.

“What are you thinkin’ about?” Your eyes lock on his hands as he rests his key on his door side table and feet as he casually slips off his dress shoes. Everything about him was mesmerizing. You swear you could just watch a documentary of a regular day in his life and you could be starry-eyed.

“Bunch of things.” But it was really just one thing.

“Care to share?” Peter shifts to the kitchen and you follow him like a helpless dog, clutching your bag for dear life.

“I keep thinking about…the last time we were together,” the words fall from your mouth as you round the counter. You felt like you needed to create some distance between you two if you were going to admit something like that.

“What about it?” Peter’s knack to ask questions right now is making your face burn from embarrassment under his bright kitchen lights. He grabs two glasses and fills them up with fridge water without even asking if you wanted some.

“You know, the fun part,” You round the counter to reach the water, slowly taking a sip. When you set the glass down, your eyes don’t leave his chest. You’re too afraid to look into his eyes.

“I thought it was all pretty fun,” he says, placing down his own glass and taking one large step towards you “Especially the part where you came all over my hand.”

Your skin flames, eyes peering at him for a moment before dashing away. His finger slides beneath your chin to turn your face back to him. He could feel your radiating heat and could see the widening of your pupils under the luminous lights.

“Were you thinking of that?” His finger directs your chin upwards, forcing you to look at him. His voice was low and husky, only for you to hear. “Because I haven’t stopped since the day I walked out of that room.”

“Peter…”

“Just say the word, honey, and I’ll kiss you right now.”

You could just melt into a puddle on the floor of his kitchen. His words are so sensual, there is no way you could ever say no to this man. He’s irresistible without trying too hard.

“Please,” You mustered out seemingly breathless while your eyes were locked into his surely.

He doesn’t miss the beat. His head turns as his lips crash against yours. Your lower back hits the island of the counter of marble, but you don’t flinch. His lips electrocute yours, sending jolts of energy coursing through your body like a shock. Your hands naturally find his neat yet messy styled hair on his nape, fingers rummaging through the curly ends. One of his hands holds your waist down from moving as if he already knows you’re antsy to grind on him. His other caresses your jaw in a stable position, the type of dominance you’ve been craving since that day in his office.

His hand goes underneath your thigh, leading you to wrapping your legs around his waist. You thought he was going to sit you on the counter, but he walked all the way to a bedroom without breaking the kiss.

Peter gently lays you on the bed, causing you to depart from the kiss. He wordlessly goes to unbutton his shirt, but you quickly sit up to do it. You’ve been thinking about doing it since he picked you up, so it only seems right that your fantasy comes true, right?

Just like you imagined, you slowly flicked off the buttons and delicately removed the fabric until it was a bundle of cloth on the floor. On the edge of the bed on your knees, you stare up at Peter with a lustful glint in your eye. That glowy look caused Peter to kiss you again, hungrier than before. His force makes you fall onto the mattress again, making you gasp. He trails down your neck in sloppy kisses, touching every inch of your neck and chest with his lips.

“Where did you get this dress?” You didn’t expect him to ask you that while he was groping your breasts through the material. You moan at the feeling of his rough thumbs on your nipples. It’s very distracting while you try to remember where you got the dress that is currently in the way.

“Um Zara? I-I don’t remember,” You moan loudly, not having time to conceal it as he suckles a mark on your neck.

“Do you like it?”

“What?”

“The dress.”

“S-Sure, yeah. It’s-It’s not my favorite, though,” His tousled hair tickles your face as he gets closer to your boobs.

“Maybe you should have worn a garbage bag.”

“Why?” You pull back a little, moving his head up so you can see his face. You thought maybe you would see some expression of disgust, but he only has pure enjoyment. His soft smile turns into a smirk that you’re growing really fond of. It means he’s about to do something hot.

“Because then I wouldn’t feel so bad about ripping it off of you.”

Just like that, the thin straps are easily snapped from his large hands while he yanks the long dress down your body and onto the floor. His mouth instantly went onto your nipple, sucking until he was satisfied with the raw peak of it. He repeated the same movement the opposite one until you were a panting mess, huffing and puffing from just his mouth on your chest.

You can tell he knows how to do this. Yes, he works in gynecology so it’s a benefit that he knows the female body inside and out. But he’s actually skilled in his technique. Although he is hungry and nearly primal, he takes his time with certain areas, making your body want him more and more each time. It’s incredibly smart, and you’re wondering why every man doesn’t know how to properly treat a woman.

You don’t even know your body the way he seems to know it.

His mouth is at your panties before you could even process it. Right when you think he’s about to widen your legs like you so desperately want him to, he stops when his hands rest on your knees gently. He had been going at a fast pace, but now, he’s slow and controlled. Taunting in a way. Torturing.

“I’m going to remove these now, yeah?” He knows you want it now because he has you in his bed right where you want to be. His tone is not as shy as it had been in the office. It’s more controlling yet still soft. “Words, Y/N.”

That demand was all too similar to his words back in the chair with his hands on your waist. He was about to pull off your underwear then for professional reasons, and now, he’s going to yank them off for selfish ones.

“Please take them off,” Just like you had then, you clenched around nothing. Just his sensual words that make you spiral into horny oblivion. Your wavering tone makes him smile as he tugs down the thin material from your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

Then he finally widens your legs, facing your aching pussy that hasn’t forgotten about him since all those weeks ago. You were throbbing and leaking to the damn bed sheets, but you couldn’t give a fuck less. You wanted his fingers, his mouth, his cock–anything that he was willing to give you.

“That day,” he starts, “I really wanted to taste you. You were dripping all over my fingers. It was so hard to stay professional.”

He leans down and gets really close to your cunt, inches away from doing what he really wants to do.

“You’ll let me taste you, right?” he asks in an innocent kind of way, but there’s hints of taunt in there. It makes your core burn, and you almost moan at the way his breath hits your center.

“Yes, please. Do whatever you want,” You say that because it’s true–he can do whatever he wants to you, and you would be grateful.

“So polite. So eager,” he kisses your thigh, dangerously close to you now, “And so, so wet.”

“Peter, please,” You were begging now, but you didn’t care. You would beg all night for Peter to touch you the way he did in his office. You’ve tried to replicate it, but it’s no use. You’ve been craving that feeling for weeks now, and he seems to be the only one who can get you there.

“So polite. Good girl.”

To your luck, he doesn’t say another word. He finally puts his mouth on your pussy by slurping up all of your juices. You immediately moan, just by the mere knowledge that his mouth is on you. His tongue slips through your folds all the way up to your clit. Peter suckles on it, feeling it throb in his mouth.

“Taste even better than I imagined,” You don’t know if his whispered words were meant to be heard by you, but you heard them. They caused you to clench right as his tongue slotted inside of you, desperate to taste more of you.

His large hands are pressed against the insides of your thighs, forcing you to stay spread for him. You can feel them ache, but nothing feels as prominent as his tongue inside of you. And then, just when it starts to feel good, he makes it feel even better. One of his digits finds your clit, circling pressure until you’re a moaning mess.

“Fuck, Peter. That’s… so good.”

His mouth pops off of you for a second to catch a breath. But he could honestly drown in the taste of you. He smoothly slides a finger to replace where his mouth was, filling you up just like in his office. Now, his mouth is sucking on your clit, needing to make it throb. You feel that feeling you’ve been chasing for the past few weeks building up in your stomach, and you know it’s not going to be long at all until you achieve it.

“Come. Show me what only I can make you do,” Peter grumbles, his words cascading over your body. The deep rumble of his voice tips you over the edge, causing you to come all over his fingers again. After cleaning up some of your orgasm, he lifts his mouth, but doesn’t remove his fingers. He continues to pump them in and out, even though you’re sensitive.

“So fuckin’ tight, and I haven’t even given you a second finger,” one of his fingers taps of your clit, causing you to gasp at how sensitive you are. “Can you give me another?”

“A-Another one?” You’re panting and sweating from just one, but he wants to give you another? Who is this man, and where has he been all your life? “I can’t.”

“Oh, but you can. The body is an amazing thing,” he inserts another finger into your cunt and increases his intensity on your nerves. You gasp again, moaning without caring how loud you are. “See, your clit makes you do that. And I love that.”

“Oh, Peter,” You helplessly whimpered. As he thrusts his fingers inside of you with that charming smile and a hint of a smirk, you already feel your high approaching you again. The sight and the feel of him was just too overwhelming. With each thrust of his fingers, his arms bulged, forearm veins popping deliciously. He was a sight for sore eyes.

“C’mon, baby. Give me another. Want to feel you clench around my fingers. Imagine it’s my cock. Imagine how big my cock is going to feel in your little, tight cunt.”

His words oozed sex. So it only made sense that you came not long after. Your release coated his skilled hand once again, and this time, he seemed satisfied with your two orgasms.

When you could finally catch your breath, you didn’t see him reaching for his belt like most men do. But you really, really wanted him to reach for his belt.

“Are you tired? How do you feel?��� The tone in his voice was soft. He was easily able to change from sex Peter to caring Peter. Your heart melted at his concern.

“Tired, but good tired. I’ve only ever had three orgasms, and you just gave me two of them,” You laughed breathlessly while he chuckled. “Would I be selfish to ask for more?”

That made him laugh. It was wholehearted and deep, echoing throughout the room. “Not at all.”

And then he reaches for his belt. You feel your organs twist in that lustful, horny way that they do when he does anything. When all his clothes are discarded and you’re faced with his raging cock, you’re practically drooling. He was right when he said he was big; thick and veiny all along the sides. It seemed unfair, really.

He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs a condom, ripping it and rolling it on easily. You continue to watch him in awe as he strokes himself a few times over the condom. Truth be told, he’s already incredibly hard. The second he slips inside of you he fears he will come on the spot because of how tight you are.

But he leans over your body, elbows holding himself up. You can smell his fresh scent, full of pine and wood.

“Did I tell you you look beautiful tonight?” he whispers next to your ear, his warm breath hitting your skin, which gives you the shivers. Your hands trail up over his body until they’re resting on his broad shoulders. You can feel his tensed muscles working to hold him up right, even though it looks like an effortless task to him.

“Oh shush. But thank you,” His comment makes your face warm, like a candle right next to your cheek.

“You look especially pretty under me,” his cock brushes your cunt, sliding delicately through the folds. You’re not shy of gasping, trying to mentally prepare yourself for his impeccable size.

When he finally pushes the head in, you take a deep breath and release it in a small whimper. You know you’re tight because you haven’t been with anyone in a few weeks. The most you’ve taken are Peter’s fingers, which are nothing compared to his cock.

He waits a few moments before moving again, giving you time to adjust. But you don’t think you’ll ever be able to fully settle with his size. It seems like he’ll always be stretching you out, no matter how many times you take him.

“Breathe, baby,” his words are breathy and wavering, but so sweet. The small nickname gives you the butterflies you haven’t felt for a while. Not the nervous butterflies, but that tingling, excited feeling of fondness. It’s one of your favorite feelings, and you’re so glad Peter gives you them.

You listen to him, taking deep breaths. He takes the opportunity to push himself a bit further until he’s fully inside of you. He stays still, looking at your face as you grow more comfortable. He watches as your expression contorts into desperation, which is what he’s been waiting for.

“You’re so tight, honey. But you’re taking all of me. Knew you could,” Peter reassures you, even as you clench snuggly around him. It’s embarrassingly hard for him to stay still, given how warm you feel wrapping him.

“Please move. Fuck, I need to feel you.”

Slowly, Peter removes himself and then slots in again. You remember to breathe as his movements become less languid and more fluidly quick. Soon, his thrusts have a bit of speed, causing you to scratch his shoulders at the intensity.

“You’re so big… so deep,” Your moan bounces off the walls of the room, making Peter smirk as he continues to move. His cock pins your hips, shutting down your squirming.

“No one’s ever fucked you like this? Never been this good, baby?” A small huff of his breath hit your skin and you were awed. His words alone could get you off, and then he’s pumping himself perfecting inside of you too, just making you go insane. He knows where all the right spots are, lifting up one of your legs with ease to get a better angle. You love that you can just let him take over you without having to work for your orgasm like you’re used to. You’re used to being on top, but it’s evident that Peter just wants to take care of you. He wants you to be satisfied for once, and you’ve never felt so seen. You’ve never felt so… good.

“Y-You’re the only one,” You sigh as you bite your lip, loving the way he's speaking to you. He’s all sultry in tone and even sexier with his words. You believe he has no flaws that are worth noticing.

“S’right. I’m the only one who can make you feel this good. You can only take my cock like this, deep in your cunt,” All you can do is moan and shake as you feel your next orgasm approaching.

Just when you go to reach down to your clit to push yourself even further, he reads your mind and does it for you. His thick finger circles the throbbing bud until you’re arching your back. Your fingers play with the pebbled nipples on your chest as your insides grow more tight. You haven’t had an orgasm feel this intense yet, so it’s hard to anticipate the feeling.

“Gonna come, baby? Come all over my cock, I need to see it. Need to know I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

With one entire pump inside of you, you’re coming over Peter’s cock and showing him that he’s the only one. All you can see is his charming, fatigued smile surrounded by stars. His brown hair is tousled and a dash of sweat is above his eyebrows, but God, he’s never looked so fucking hot.

It’s not long after that he’s coming after you, his release filling the condom completely. Peter was trying his best to hold himself for as long as possible. But with you, he discovered it was very difficult. Like he thought, the second he was inside of you, he could’ve come. You’re so slick and warm, just so alluring.

He gets up from the bed to discard the condom in done trash while you lay there in naked awe. You already know that you’re going to be sore tomorrow like the day after the gym.

As Peter comes back, he has a wipe that he uses to clean you up.

“What are you doing?” You ask before he starts to wipe you.

“Cleaning you up. You know, like aftercare. You can go to the bathroom and even take a bath if you’d like,” Peter answers while you sit straight up dumbfounded. “May I?”

“Yeah, yeah go ahead,” You allow him to soothingly clean you while you just accept it. Your mind is still whirling with confusion. Are all guys supposed to do this? Or is he really just that great? “Thank you. I… No one’s ever done that before.”

“Really? God, you were really with some twats, Y/N,” he shakes his head and walks back to the bathroom while you chuckle. It’s funny that you had to go through those two guys in order to get to Peter. Third time’s the charm. “Want to take a bath?”

You ponder for a second. You were tired, but not like you would drown in the tub. Maybe if you had better stamina you would ask Peter to join you, but for now, maybe you just need to sit and think about what’s happening alone. Peter is too good to be true. He’s such a gentleman, he never misses a beat. You hope you’re not overstepping by accepting.

“Can I? Or is it too much—”

“Nonsense, I want you to be comfortable. Now, do you like the right or left side of the bed?” You stare at him in confusion. One, because that was a random question. And two, because when did he put on boxers?

“What?”

“Which side do you sleep on?” You felt your cheeks burn for some reason, and then you realize you’re still naked while he’s semi-dressed.

“Um right, I think. Why?”

“So you can sleep there. You are staying, aren’t you?” Peter’s cheeks tint rosy red, that peek of nervousness shining through. It made you smile because even if he seems too good to be true, there is a little human in there who’s just like you.

“Yes, of course,” You can visibly see his tenseness fade as a small smile grows on his lips.

“I’ll start the bath then get you some clothes then, or else you’ll keep me hard all night.”

Your skin burns, but you feel like that’s not the last time that will happen to you. Not with Peter. No, you know.

—

thank you all for being patient!! i also think this is the longest taglist i’ve ever had, so thank you again!! 💞

taglist:

-> @motheroffae @noa217 @nelly-belly97 @spidermanffh3000 @httpscomexe @mysticdaisy21 @emilyparkerholland @deathst9r @ellenita98 @ellabellabus07 @mrstealuregirl @bisexual-desi @sherlockstrangewolf @madsttx @graywrites20 @bradtomlovesya @princesspannnn @sageisswaggg @purplerose291 @girlbossnancy @lockwood-lover @marzipaanz @eatshitanddiee @invisibletrolleyson-jeremy @lnmp89 @crybabyddl @pretty-npeach @marine-mayday @aerangi @justanotherpasserby-blog @tinafuentes @moniffazictress11 @eywaheardyou @alwaysclassyeagle @raajali3 @likeapplejuicenpeach @winuvs

crossed out= not able to tag

[fatuismooches]

a lesson in happiness.

Kabukimono did not know the day of his creation.

It was already a sad thing, you thought, to not have been given a name at birth. Much less to not know the day you were first brought into this world. To not have a birthday. Though Kabukimono initially didn’t care, due to having no knowledge of the concepts of birthdays at first, seeing other villagers celebrate their own caused him to be excited about his birthday, and then be crushed by the realization that he didn’t have one.

He acted like it didn’t hurt him. But it did. And it hurt you too. Though, you had an idea.

January third. That was the day Katsuragi and the others found the puppet lying inside Shakkei Pavilion. It wasn’t his day of birth, but still an important day. A day when he was found. Seen. And you wanted Kabukimono to feel special, just like every human does, on a day of the year. So you devised a little plan. It wasn’t anything grand of course, no, you didn’t have the Mora for that. But to Kabukimono, he would probably think you may have just given him a five-star course anyway. You hadn’t told him about this yet, as you wanted it to be a surprise.

The first step was baking a cake, which wasn’t as simple as one would think.

Kabukimono was always open to trying new human foods, but surprisingly, he did not enjoy sweets. You’ll never forget the screwed-up expression on his face when you introduced him to dango. He tried to speak while eating it but it sounded all jumbled up because his teeth were stuck together. It was quite adorable.

So therefore, you had to make sure that the cake wasn’t too sweet and also tasted good at the same time. Admittedly, it wasn’t easy, and it took you a good amount of tries. Not to mention Kabukimono was constantly glued at your hip so it was hard to find time to do it so he wouldn’t find out about the surprise. But at last, you had done it. It was light, fluffy, and yummy, with not too much sugar so you hoped Kabukimono would find it delicious.

The second thing was to acquire a gift. It was hard to think of something to get your lover. It felt like, no matter what you gave him, it wouldn’t be enough. No matter how much it was (not that you had the money for that anyway.) But you had settled on something simple but pretty - you had commissioned someone in the village to produce a lovely, handmade comb for you. It was beautiful, sturdy and practical, and the best part it had your and Kabukimono’s initials carved into it with a plus sign.

Kabukimono always loved it when you brushed his hair. It had become a nightly and morning routine actually. Every night you’d brush out the knots that may have accumulated during the day. And in the morning you’d brush out any tangles he may have gotten in his sleep. You took care of his silky princessy hair better than your own. So you think he’d appreciate this comb especially, for when he had to brush his hair when you weren’t around. 

Regardless, you were set and prepared to make Kabukimono’s first birthday with you a success. The night before, you were trying to hide your giddiness, but it seemed like you weren’t the only one. Kabukimono kept looking at you with shy eyes, to which you smiled and came to hug him from behind, wrapping your arms around him.

“Something you want to say, love?” You asked, nuzzling your face into his neck. He blushed a little bit.

“I was just thinking a bit.”

“About? Perhaps little old me?”

“Yes,” he said honestly. “But also about tomorrow. It was the day I…” The puppet’s memory was always sharp, you noticed. Of course he wouldn’t forget about such a notable day.

“The day Katsuragi and the others found you,” you finished. “And the day I met you,” you softly pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

“You remembered!” Kabukimono beamed.

“Of course I did,” you chuckled. “How could I forget about the love of my life?” You squeezed him tighter and pulled him down, both of you falling together onto the futon as giggles filled the air. “I can’t believe it’s already been a year,” you sighed nostalgically. To think time would pass so fast.

“I remember it so clearly. Like it was yesterday…” The puppet drifted off as he buried his face in your chest. “So many things have happened since then. Sometimes I can’t believe it.”

“Me either,” you agreed, stroking his hair. “I’m quite happy to have been able to be with you for this long though.”

“Me too, [Name]! You’ve always made my days so much better,” he reached up to kiss your cheek and you grinned, cupping his face and pulling him in for another. Intimate moments like this were always lovely.

… But you knew for Kabukimono, this would eventually become nothing but a drop in the eternity that would stretch on endlessly for him.

—

It was Kabukimono’s birthday today.

That was the first thing you thought when you cracked your eyes open. You turned to face your lover and there he was, sleeping peacefully, snuggled into your shoulder. Stunning, as usual. For someone who didn’t need to sleep, he sure seemed to enjoy it. Though you hoped that today he’d stay asleep by himself for a while now. He always seemed to know when you left the futon and would soon follow you. So this time you placed a pillow for him to snuggle into instead. Hopefully, that’d keep him at bay for a bit until you finished baking the cake. You already knew the process like the back of your hand so it wouldn’t be too long.

… Unfortunately, Kabukimono was awake and pouting at you in the kitchen before you finished, the baked cake lying on the counter to cool while you had just finished whisking the icing.

“[Name], what are you doing up so early?” He whined, rubbing his eyes and sleepily making his way over to you. As he got closer he squinted at the stuff on the cupboard. “Are you making a cake? Is it someone’s birthday?”

Looks like the jig was up. “Yes, indeed. It’s for someone very important,” you hummed, as you began to spread the frosting over the layers of cake. Kabukimono blinked at you, trying to figure out who it could be. January third… January third. Not Niwa, nor Katsuragi… Kinjirou? No, not him either.

“Who?”

“You, silly.” There was a pause after your words as your lover stared at you blankly, processing your words.

“What? I-I don’t understand, [Name],” the puppet looked at you with a perplexed expression. You merely smiled back in response.

“A year ago today, when we all found you, you became part of this village’s family. You became irreplaceable to all of us. Especially me,” you uttered softly, looking straight into his eyes. “It may not have been the day you were brought into this world, but instead a day you were introduced to the world. A fitting day for a birthday, no? And I’d love to celebrate it with you… as long as it’s okay with you, dear.”

Kabukimono was stunned into near silence. “Is that… really possible? Can I really do that?”

“Of course you can. There are no rules.” Within seconds, a large smile appeared on Kabukimono’s face.

“January third… my birthday. My birthday! I actually have one now!” He looked so joyful, that it would make anyone smile. The puppet felt as though he was a little bit more human now.

“Indeed you do! Now, go get ready. We’re going out soon. There’s a really pretty spot I want to take you.” At this point, Kabukimono was practically jumping in excitement.

“Thank you so much [Name]! I love you so much!” He threw his hands around you quickly and then released you to go off and get changed.

“Love you… too.” Before you could even finish your sentence he was already out of the room. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you retrieved a basket to place the cake and other small foods in.

Today was going to be an excellent day.

—

Kabukimono was too thrilled to walk at a normal pace, so the two of you were virtually running to the spot you had picked out. Thankfully the food was okay. Once the two of you had settled down at the scenic spot, the puppet marveled at the snacks and most importantly, the cake. It had been a hit with him, considering how he gobbled it down before you even finished your first slice. You made a mental note to make more non-sweet pastries for him. 

Not to mention how over the moon he was when you finally presented his gift, the comb. He couldn’t stop staring and fiddling with it, despite the fact there was really not much to see after a few minutes. Regardless, he asked you to comb his hair with it while he played with the finches and squirrels that had somehow shown up in his lap.

It really was a beautiful day, a birthday well celebrated. Now, it was going to be the evening time soon, so you two began to make it back to your home. Kabukimono wanted to cuddle in bed with you and read some stories. But when you arrived, you had one more surprise for your lover.

“There’s one last thing for you.”

“There’s even more?” Kabukimono looked at you with pure awe and adoration, making your heart squeeze.

“Yup! Though this one… it’s something for both of us, kind of. You’ll see. Wait here!” And with that you were running off, leaving the puppet confused and intrigued. But in no time you were back, carrying something.

It was… a tree? With the bottom of it contained in a bag with soil.

“[Name], you got us a tree?”

“Not just any tree, love. A Lavender Melon tree,” you grinned, setting the plant down with a huff. “You know what that means?”

“… We’re going to grow our own Lavender Melons!” The boy launched himself at you and you almost toppled over, but you gladly accepted his affection. “Oh but, how do we take care of it? I’ve never done something like this before!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take it step by step. It’s not easy, but it’ll be rewarding and fun! Here, would you help me plant it now?” The puppet eagerly agreed and you two got to work finding a nice spot for your new tree and shoveling the ground (which Kabukimono insisted on doing himself despite it being his birthday.) Soon enough, the fruit tree was tucked firmly into the ground and watered. Kabukimono looked rather proud.

“I’ve never seen a tree this short. So this is how they look before they’re all grown up.” 

“This one isn’t even that tiny. I’ve seen saplings much smaller. Though, maybe if you sing to it, it’ll grow faster.”

“Really? Is that true?!” Kabukimono was now staring at you with wide, impressed eyes. Before you could even respond, he spoke again. “Well, I’ll sing as much as it wants every day.” Your eyes softened at his declaration. You couldn’t wait to hear that.

“But [Name], how long will it take to bear some Lavender Melons?”

“Well, it’s going to be a long journey. We might see some in a few years from now.”

“Oh, that isn’t too far away! How juicy do you think our melons will be? I can’t wait!”

Your heart felt a prick of pain at his words. A few years, a blink of an eye for Kabukimono, but ages for you. His perception of time was so different from yours, the more time you spent with him, the more it hurt you badly to think of how it would scar him in the future.

“But [Name], why did you get this tree in the first place? We can always buy Lavender Melons from the market.” His innocent voice snapped you out of your thoughts. Today was a happy day for both of you. It was rude to think such things today of all days.

“You’re right, we can. But I just thought it would be nice to raise something together.”

“Raise something?”

“Yes. Human life is beautiful, but so is the life of nature, animals, and things around us. It’s a nice feeling to be able to nourish and take care of something. Perhaps later on we can get a cat too. What do you think?” You expected a response but you received nothing.

“Kabuki-” You froze mid-sentence when you saw your lover’s face.

Kabukimono was crying.

“Oh Kabukimono, what’s wrong?” You immediately went to embrace and comfort him. “You can talk to me.” The only problem was that Kabukimono himself did not know where these tears came from. This whole day had been so incredible and joyous, so why was he crying?

The only experience he had with tears were moments when it felt like his chest had been pierced and left with a gaping hole. When he was abandoned. When he sat alone in Shakkei Pavilion, his whole body ached as he believed himself to be tossed out like trash. So why…? Why was he crying when you were being so kind to him…?

“I- I don’t know,” he croaked. “It just came out of nowhere,” he wept into your chest. You were silent for a bit, stroking his hair before you spoke.

“Tears are not only a sign of sadness, Kabukimono. They are also for anger, surprise, jealousy, fear… but most importantly, happiness. If I may take a little guess here… you are feeling so much happiness, you became a bit overwhelmed,” you gently explained, wiping his tears with your fingers and sleeves. Kabukimono looked at you with teary eyes. “Am I right, love?”

The puppet looked down, contemplating your words and trying to understand his own emotions. You were right. Though there was a tinge of sadness in his chest, all he could think about was how grateful he was to have you. His light, his support. The one who gave him a second chance after he thought he was useless, the one who gave him worth and meaning to himself and this world.

“Happy birthday, Kabukimono. May we spend many more together.”

The puppet’s heart felt oddly at ease at your words, and he slowly nodded as he enjoyed the homely warmth your embrace provided.

He thought you would be right.

lesson 1. lesson 2. lesson 3. lesson 4. lesson 5. lesson 6. lesson 7. lesson 8. lesson 9. lesson 10. bonus lesson.

[so-so-woso]

i wanna be the one | part 1

Edit: Changed title. Thanks to Dru for the suggestion. From the song "Things We Never Say" by the Bad Bad Hats. Great song, potentially relevant maybe who knows.

Summary: Reader is an English-American GK who joins the Arsenal squad and ends up in an interesting back and forth with Leah Williamson. This chapter is mainly set-up for the future. The vibes will probably be very different going forward lol

Warnings: Angst, swallowing self-doubt, and mentions of parental death in the first section.

Word Count: 3,284

London felt just like Seattle. You were expecting it to feel different, more European (whatever that meant), but when you stepped out of the airport and that familiar January rain hit your skin, it was a welcome feeling. It wasn’t quite Home – you hadn’t had one of those in a long time – but it was definitely welcoming, and nice enough that you didn’t bother with an umbrella. It would’ve been hard enough trying to carry one along with all your bags anyway, although by the look on your driver’s face he really wished you had at least tried. It was nice that the team had sent a car to meet you, especially since you didn’t really know anyone here that well, but you supposed they would do that for any new signing. The driver helped you get your bags into the car and then you were off to the club to dot some Is and cross some Ts to make everything truly official.

Wistful thoughts crept into the back of your mind as you were chauffeured through the streets of London, and you decided for the first time in a long time not to fight them. Not here, anyway – not now. Not after everything it took to get you here. Get you here again, technically. You were born in London after all, and raised in Sheffield where your mother had grown up. Your father was an American, from Dallas, who came to England for graduate school and stayed for the woman he fell in love with. He often teased her about “real (American) football” but she converted him to Sheffield United fan, though he would never admit it – at least not until you were born. Match days became a family event as soon as you could stand up on your own, even though you were still too young to really remember anything at that point, but by the time you could run you wanted nothing more than to play. You were always bigger than the other kids so they made you play with the boys, but you knew a lot of the women’s national team players had played on boys’ teams growing up, so you didn’t mind it. You were never upset about that, but you were upset when they made you move to the goalkeeper position when you were eight. It was the boring position and you never got to do anything, but you were the only kid on the team who didn’t seem scared of the ball when it came flying at you, so the job fell to you. Many years later, it would prove to be the right choice, but for a while you thought it felt like a punishment from the universe. Then you found out what that kind of punishment actually felt like.

You were only eleven when your parents died. It was a car accident; your mom was driving. She took the brunt of it and was gone by the time the ambulance arrived. Your dad was in the hospital for two days, but he never woke up. You had been in the back seat. Heavy bruising, a busted ribs, broken collarbone, and a big gash across the side of the head was it for you. You were in the hospital too, for a while. Your paternal grandmother came all the way from Austin to pick you up and take you to live with her. Your mom’s parents had been gone for a while now, and GiGi – what you had called your father’s mother – was all you had left. You had only met her a few times before, but you didn’t really have another option, so across the pond you went.

It would be a massive understatement to say that Texas was different from Sheffield. It was truly a whole different world, but kids are resilient enough. You were famous for a while, because of your accent, and then you were weird for a while, because of your accent, and then eventually you became just one of the kids. Your GiGi was supportive as well, more than you had expected her to be. You didn’t know much of the specifics as a kid, but you knew she and your father had had some sort of falling out and weren’t as close as they had been when he was younger. You always thought it had to do with him choosing to stay in England rather than come home to America. When you got older it seemed like maybe there was more to it than that, but GiGi wouldn’t talk about it. She did help you get into therapy, so that you could learn how to process what had happened and all the big changes that came with it. You didn’t like it at the time, but in hindsight it was probably the best thing she could’ve done. She even started trying to learn about football – soccer – too, because she knew you liked it, and she made sure to sign you up for the local league. You think maybe that time doesn’t heal wounds, but it sort of scabs them over enough that they only hurt when you pick at them, so eventually you learn to stop picking at them, and after that life became kind of normal.

You eventually played soccer in high school – goalkeeper, naturally – and were good enough to get recruited to the University of Texas. From there, the NWSL draft sent you to Seattle for the OL Reign. You spent a season as the third-string goalkeeper, then a season as the second-string, and then were presented with an opportunity you couldn’t dare turn down. It had been Kim Little’s idea, apparently. She had only played with you in Seattle for a month or so, and you never really hung out, but she knew you had grown up in England and that you had really wanted the chance to play football in Europe. She would tell you later that she was impressed with your resilience, something you had heard often growing up, and that you had a “dead brilliant reaction speed” which you guessed sounded good. So when Arsenal’s back-up goalkeeper transferred out and they were weighing their options, she suggested they give you a look. She had said it offhandedly, like it wasn’t a big deal, but you would wager she fought harder for you than she let on. You had only played a handful of games in two seasons, and while you were admittedly good, the offer from the English club still came as a massive surprise. They were up front and adamant about your status as a pure back-up to Zinsberger, and while you would’ve had a decent chance to win the starting spot in Seattle, you just couldn’t say no to European football, to England, to the Arsenal.

That’s how you ended up in the back of a dark car being driven through the streets of north London in the pouring rain. Your fingers fiddled absently at the chain around your neck and the two golden bands that hung from it while you considered everything that led you here, hoping that you made the right choice. Only time would tell, you thought, as the car squealed to a slow stop. You hesitated for a long moment before tucking the necklace under your shirt and moving to exit the vehicle. The driver met you at the car door, an umbrella extended overhead. You were taller than him, so you had to awkwardly bend your neck as he moved to close the door behind you.

“This shouldn’t take long,” he said, “Then we’ll get you home.” You thanked him and stuffed your fists in the pockets of your coat as you followed him up to the club, your stomach slowly rising higher and higher into your throat as the series of decisions you had recently made began to congeal rather quickly into a hard reality. It was some grotesque mix of nerves and excitement and fear that just fully slapped you in the face when you stepped inside the building. You hadn’t felt like this in Seattle, or on the plane, or in the car, but now that you were here, physically, it’s like everything else was physical too. It wasn’t some amorphous Choice floating in the metaphorical ether of your life; it was a foreboding Presence leering down at you, clawing at your shoulders from behind, and whispering ‘you don’t deserve this’ into your psyche. Nausea began to swell up, to the point you were just starting to feel dizzy. Out of instinct you reached forward and put your hand on the driver’s shoulder, who stopped walking to turn and see what you needed. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but was interrupted by a distinctly Scottish, “Oh ‘ey, Tex!” behind you.

You both turned to see Kim Little striding down the hallway, followed closely by Jonas and one of the other coaches. You swallowed hard, all the torturous feelings slowly fading away as you saw a familiar face. “Hey, Little Kim, “ you retorted. She scoffed and faked a jab towards your ribs before she reached up to hug you.

“Welcome to the party,” she said, stepping back to introduce the coaches, who shook your hands. They welcomed you as well and explained that the evening would be brief, they were sure you’d be tired from the flight, but just needed to finalize some things on the business side and then Kim would give a tour of the facilities. You thanked them, probably too many times, and went with them all to finish your paperwork and pick up your official training gear. Your kit wouldn’t be ready until tomorrow since they’d have to put your name on and weren’t sure what number you wanted (you picked 18 because it was available and made sense for a goalkeeper). Kim showed you around, asked about the flight, and made you feel as welcome as she thought she could. It was nice to talk to someone for a while. You weren’t exactly an extrovert, but you were Southern enough you enjoyed being around people, and being able to talk to Kim, even if it was more or less small talk, made you feel better, and by the time the tour was done all of the earlier feelings were forgotten. You started to think that maybe this whole thing was a good idea after all.

“So no rest for the weary – first training tomorrow, yeah? Text me your address and I’ll pick you up. Since you won’t have a car, Uber’s always an option, but until you get sorted, you can get rides with me,” Kim said.

“Sounds good. Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet, I’m picking you up extra early tomorrow – the girls’ll want to meet you before kickin’ balls at your head.”

“Well, I guess that’s only polite.”

You both laughed and hugged goodbye before heading your separate ways, you pulling out your phone to look up your new address to send it to Kim. This was a good decision, you thought, this was a good decision.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your apartment – or flat? – was nicer than you expected it to be. You had done a Zoom tour while you were still in Seattle and it looked fine, but you had tempered your expectations to be safe. Turns out, you didn’t need to. It was a two-bedroom and furnished with the basics, so there was plenty of space for you and plenty room to decorate as you saw fit. You had what was sometimes described as an eclectic taste by your friends, mainly because you liked to decorate with things that made you happy. That seems like an obvious thing to decorate with, but you were kind of – literally – a giant dork, which meant you had a lot of “nerd shit” as your friends would tease. You expected the Arsenal girls would do the same if they ever started coming over, but all of that would be a long time coming. Tonight, all you wanted to do was collapse into bed, which is exactly what you did.

Kim wasn’t lying when she said she’d pick you up early. At least she had the decency to bring you coffee, but she was completely taken aback when you admitted you didn’t really drink coffee and actually preferred tea. “Guess there is some English in you after all,” she had joked as she drove. She asked about your night and how you slept, and pointed out all the important-to-know shops and stops between your apartment and the training center. When you finally arrived, you asked her if she accepted tips for her tour knowledge – to which she responded with “only big bills”. You laughed as you retrieved your bag from the back of her car, and the two of you headed in.

The next few days were an absolute blur. You were introduced to everyone, and they all seemed pretty nice. McCabe kept talking about how tall you were, but from how everyone else acted that was normal. Manu was happy to have another goalkeeper in the squad despite the fact you would both technically be competing for the starting spot, even though you were explicitly hired as a back-up. At least it didn’t seem like there would be any weird hurt feelings or anything there, so you were glad for that. All your other time was spent trying to discern personality types and team dynamics, and also actually training. The coaches had told you they wouldn’t expect you to go full on for the first few days to give you time to acclimate to everything. You thanked them, of course, but that didn’t stop you from diving in head first.

By the time your official day three was over, you wished you had taken it a little easier. It felt like jet lag hit you late, on top of the normal physical tiredness of training. But that evening as the team as the team filtered out of the locker room, Katie McCabe slapped you on the back and said, “Drinks on you tonight, mate!” You turned to look at her, but before you could ask, Kim interrupted with a sharp “Katie–“

“Hold on, hold on! I don’t mean a big to-do, but we gotta welcome the newbie right, right?”

A couple of the other players voiced their agreement and Kim rolled her eyes. “Two drink maximum.”

“Four.”

“Two.”

“Three?”

“Two, McCabe.”

“Two and shots?”

“…”

“Two…and shots?”

“…one shot.”

“Fuck yes, best captain ever! You’re riding with us, Y/N!”

A mix of confusion and amusement spread across your face as you looked between the two of them, and Kim just shook her head and waved at you to go with Katie, so you let yourself be pulled away into whatever the night would bring.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Despite telling you that you were paying for drinks, Katie was nice enough to only make you buy the shots, and despite Kim’s hesitance at you all going out mid-week, it was a surprisingly calm evening. You ended up sitting at a table with just a handful of your new teammates. Most of them were joking around with each other, teasing and taunting. You sat quietly, unsure of how inserting yourself into the dynamic would come off. You thought of a few quips throughout the conversations, but made sure to hold your tongue, choosing to sip on your beer instead.

“You always this quiet?”

You glanced over in the direction of the voice, inadvertently locking eyes with Leah Williamson. You knew who she was, obviously – won the Euros and all. What you hadn’t known was that she was even more attractive in person. You didn’t even know that was possible, but it was certainly a pleasant surprise.

“Not usually,” you responded, drawing in a breath. “Just can’t get a word in edgewise with this one goin’ off.”

You gestured towards Katie, who didn’t even register the comment. It did get a chuckle out of Steph and Foord, though, which made you relax a bit. Looking back at Leah, she was still looking at you, but didn’t seem to react otherwise. You paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek, before deciding to just go for it.

“So in the summer do you ever get a weird tan on your forehead from frowning so much?”

That did draw Katie’s attention; you could tell from the way she practically guffawed.

“Oy, she’s got you dead to fuckin’ rights!” she said, leaning over to elbow at Leah. The Aussies had laughed as well, as did Kim. Leah didn’t look impressed at the remark, but from the twitch of her lips you would swear she was biting back a smile. She had nice lips. Were you staring at her lips? Your eyes flashed back up to hers and she was still looking at you. She would’ve been able to tell where you were staring. That’s…embarrassing. You swallowed hard, and quickly looked away, taking a long swig of your drink. If anyone else at the table noticed the interaction, they didn’t react. Katie started in on you immediately, dragging you into whatever she had been talking about before, and from there you spent the rest of the evening integrating yourself into the team.

The bar was really only starting to fill up when Kim decided it was time for you all to get a move on. There was some light-hearted grumbling, but everyone was professional enough to know how to behave. You had popped into the toilet before leaving, and when you came out of the stall, Leah was washing her hands. You hesitated for a brief moment before moving up to the sink next to her to wash your own hands, the little bit of alcohol you consumed tonight just enough to embolden you.

“Man, Williamson, what kind of a world is this where you’ve got those legs and no rhythm,” you teased, quickly busying yourself with the most thorough hand-wash you’ve ever done so you didn’t have to look over at her and see how poorly she took the remark.

“You spend a lot of time thinking about my legs?”

You froze. It would seem she didn’t take it too poorly at all. Taking a moment to compose yourself, you turned off the sink and turned to look at her. She was staring at you again. Seemed like maybe she did that a lot.

“Yeah, maybe,” you finally said. She hmmed a bit and cocked her head to the side. The glint in her eye was the only thing that kept you from worrying you were being too forward, and you silently prayed it wasn’t a trick of the fluorescent lighting overhead.

“You think you’re being all charming, with your little jokes?”

“No, not really,” you shrugged. “I think I have the personality of a 14-year-old boy and it’s the only way I know how to flirt with you.”

Leah changed at that. Her posture shifted. Her shoulders dropped slightly. The glint in her eye was gone. You fucked up, you thought. You’ve been here for four days and you already fucked up.

You moved to apologize at the same time Leah moved to respond, but both of you were interrupted by the door to the bathroom slamming open and a group of girls rushing in. You turned around and pushed yourself up against the edge of the sink to get out of the way, but Leah dipped her head down and shoved out past them, taking the opportunity to escape without you being able to stop her.

Yep. You fucked up.

[harrisonarchive]

Photo of George (from 1969) by John Haynes; photo 2 (of Doris Troy) via Google.

“Work initially began at George’s home [Kinfauns] in high summer 1969 with help from Billy Preston, before Doris and George went into the studio proper, probably in late September [with Klaus Voormann, Stephen Stills, Ringo, Peter Frampton, Eric Clapton, Rita Coolidge, and more]. […] Harrison co-wrote four of the songs [‘Ain’t That Cute’ and ‘Give Me Back My Dynamite’ are Harrison-Troy co-written; Harrison-Troy-Starkey-Stills co-written songs were ‘Gonna Get My Baby Back’ and ‘You Give Me Joy Joy’] on Doris Troy, arranged the traditional, ‘Jacob’s Ladder’ with Troy […]. When the album was reissued Troy said, ‘Doing that album was a reminder that “soul” didn’t have a color.’” - udiscovermusic.com, January 6, 2019 “George is the greatest as far as I’m concerned. As a musician he is fine and he’s already a good producer, but I think his real bag would be as a missionary or leader of people. He has a great heart and soul, a really beautiful person who is able to communicate peace and joy.” - Doris Troy, Record Mirror, January 1, 1972 “I think [George] had been involved in soul music for years — he listened to it, he loved it, and that’s what made him want to do it. I wasn’t actually introducing him to the stuff, he already knew it. The Beatles as a whole listened to black music, a lot of their soul and feelings came from American music.” - Doris Troy, While My Guitar Gently Weeps: The Music of George Harrison (2003) “[George] was like a perfectionist. He wanted every note to be exactly right. To me, he didn’t have to take that long. We could have knocked it out and just went for the feel of it, you now? But he would take into a solo, man, and take hours to get the solo right. I’m not knocking him or anything; it’s just that that’s the way he was.” - Doris Troy, Unknown Legends of Rock ‘n’ Roll (1998) (x)

[lulublack90]

Prompt 24 - Dinner

@jegulus-microfic January 24 Word count 970

Previous part First part

“Seriously! What the fuck?!” Sirius cried out, all signs of sleepiness gone. 

“Sirius,” Regulus pleaded, not finding it funny anymore. Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled deeply before pointing at his brother.

“You get out of that bed right now.” Regulus, for once, did as he was told and began to clamber out. When Sirius saw that he was only in his underwear, he immediately covered his eyes and said. “No, no. Get back into bed.—Regulus, I mean it. I do not need to see that!”  

It was James’s turn to snicker now, but it soon died in his throat when Sirius turned his icy stare on him. He became very interested in the colour of his sheets. 

Remus cleared his throat, getting Sirius’s attention.

“Why don't we go shower, get some clean clothes on and a coffee in you? Let these two idiots get sorted, and we’ll reconvene for dinner?” He put a hand on Sirius’s shoulder. Sirius pouted. 

“But Remus—” 

“I know. But I think we’d all be happier if we took a minute and James and Regulus weren’t  in a state of undress, don’t you?” Sirius grimaced. 

“Yeah— You’re right. Wait!” His eyes blew up. “James, please tell me that you’re wearing more than your underwear?!” 

“No, Sirius, he's completely naked,” Regulus cackled, mischief back in his eyes. 

“Reg, why?” James whined. 

Remus put his other hand on Sirius’s shoulder and firmly manoeuvred him towards the door.

“Grimmauld Place. Six O’Clock. Bring Chinese food.” He told them before shoving Sirius out of the room. They could hear him protesting all the way down the stairs and out the front door. 

“Well, that could have gone better,” Regulus said, completely straight-faced. 

“You think?” James croaked back. He ran his fingers through his already mussed-up hair. “Reggie, I think we need to talk about this—us. Before we face Sirius again. Just so we both know what’s going on.” He felt himself blushing. Regulus luckily didn’t notice as he got out of bed and began dressing from the neat pile of carefully folded clothes he’d left on James’s dresser. James waited for Regulus to finish, carefully turning his head away to give him privacy.

He went over to the dresser and pulled out some clean clothes. He dumped them on the bed and began dressing. Only realising Regulus had been staring at him the entire time as he went to change his underwear. 

“Do you mind?” He asked pointedly.

“Not even a little bit.” Regulus grinned. “Need to make sure I like the whole package.” He waggled his eyebrows, and James realised how much like his brother Regulus looked at that moment. 

He turned his back on Regulus and quickly removed yesterday's pants. In the short time he had no underwear on, Regulus had darted across the room and grabbed his arse. He jumped in the air and squealed in shock. Regulus’s head squeezed under his arm so he could look down. “Reg, what the actual?!” Regulus pulled his head free and wrapped his arms around James’s waist. He reached up on his tiptoes. His body pressed firmly into James’s back. 

“10/10,” He whispered into James’s ear before nipping the lobe and disappearing out of the room, leaving James standing there holding his clean pants in his hand, gobsmacked. 

He wasn’t sure where Regulus had gone. So, when he was fully dressed, he went downstairs. 

He was sat at the kitchen table munching on a pile of toast. James sat opposite him. Regulus pushed a steaming cup of tea across the table at him. James beamed at the little offering. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Regulus make anyone anything, let alone a cup of tea. He was honoured. 

They sat in comfortable silence while they munched through the stack of toast. James had grabbed a jar of jam to spread on if they wanted to with the butter. 

Once they’d finished their breakfast, even if it was basically lunchtime, James tidied away their things and sat back down. 

“So,” He said, clearing his throat. “I think we need to talk,” It felt so awkward. He didn’t know how to do this. Regulus saved him. 

“The way I see it is. I like you. I’m guessing you like me? Do you want to see if this goes anywhere?” James nodded and grinned. 

“Yeah, okay. That sounds nice.” 

“What, only nice?” Regulus raises an eyebrow at him.

“Really nice?” James offered. Regulus huffs a laugh through his nose. 

“Yeah, okay, really nice.” His expression changes, “We still have some time before we’re expected at Grimmauld. Wanna watch a film?” Regulus didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he went to the living room and turned the TV on. James joined him, not even thinking about it. 

He sat down next to Regulus on the sofa, and Regulus snuggled into his side. It felt so natural as if they’d been doing it for years. At some point, his hand ended up in Regulus’s hair, his fingers carded through the curls. Regulus let out soft hums, like a cat, now and again. 

The stroking turned to touching, and before he knew it, Regulus was straddling his lap, and they were kissing, movie forgotten. 

Too soon, the reminder James had set sounded, and they were forced to head out. 

Thirty minutes later, they had two bulging bags of steaming takeaway and were standing outside number twelve Grimmauld Place.   

James closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as his hand hovered over the doorknob.

“Reg,” He said quietly. “Please don’t rile him up.” Regulus winked at him before pushing him aside and opening the door. James rolled his eyes and sighed before walking over the threshold, praying that just once, the Black brothers wouldn’t go out of their way to annoy each other. 

Next part

[lixzey]

safe and sound

ONE. TWO. THREE

I'm sorry I left, but it was for the best, though it never felt right, my little Versailles.

The morning after Sirius left, when your mother and father found out, they disowned your eldest brother immediately—your mother blasted him off of the Black family tapestry. Your mother quickly locked herself in her room afterwards and didn’t step out of the room for a week. You wondered why, but brushed it off to the side. Mother never loved Sirius, Mother never loved any of us. She was just ashamed to have lost her son to blood traitors, half-bloods, and muggle-borns.

Though your mother left Sirius’ room untouched, maybe she wasn’t bothered to clean out her blood traitor of a son’s room. 

The news spread like wildfire over the remaining days of the holiday. Your Slytherin friends sent you letters asking if it was true that the Black heir was disowned. You ignored every letter as much as you could, but you can’t deny the truth for long, especially when you’re back at Hogwarts.

“You are not to be in contact with him, do you understand me?” Your mother’s voice echoed in your ears, her eyes emotionless. Keep his name out of your mouth, you don’t deserve to mourn. You thought, as you nodded along with Regulus, you had no choice but to do so.

You were actually dreading going back to Hogwarts after the holidays. The letters Sirius promised, it never came. So you just assumed that he didn’t want anything to do with you or Regulus anymore, completely shutting both of you out of his life. Like your mother, you confined yourself to your room. You just laid in bed, clutching one of Sirius’ old shirts close to your chest. Regulus often stayed with you, giving you the comfort you needed, but still, it wasn’t the same as it used to be.

Meanwhile, Regulus’ heart broke at the sight of his sister grieving and crying almost every night. It was torture to hear her muffled sobs through the walls, but he couldn’t do a thing to make it all better. He was missing Sirius too, which made it harder for him to be there for Y/n. As much as he wanted to be strong for her, he was struggling to deal with Sirius’ absence as well.

He lost a brother too. 

But Regulus kept his promise: he would protect Y/n, no matter the cost. His little sister comes first, above all. 

January 2nd, 1977

You watched as the view of King’s Cross faded into view, the cold weather sending goosebumps running down your arms, but you ignored it as best as you could.

“Come on, starlight, I need to get to the Prefects’ carriage,” Regulus sighed, nudging you slightly. 

“You go ahead, Reggie.” You smiled softly. “I’m going to go and look for Pandora and Dorcas, don’t worry about me.” 

Regulus raised a brow at you. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

You rolled your eyes at his protectiveness. “Yes, I’ll be alright.”

Regulus hesitated for a moment before he sighed and nodded. “Alright, fine. Just be careful, okay? You know what people are saying about Sirius; it might be best to keep a low profile for now.” 

You nodded, knowing he had a point. The rumours had already spread, and you didn’t want to deal with all the questions and looks from your classmates. But you also wanted to find out why Sirius never sent any letters in the days that followed his departure. 

As Regulus made his way to the Prefects’ carriage, you took a deep breath and decided to go and find James Potter. You knew it was risky, but you needed to find out why. As you made your way through the crowded train, you tried to keep your head down and avoid drawing too much attention to yourself.

Suddenly, while keeping your head down, you collided with someone. When you looked up, you saw James smiling at you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling. But you’ve already fallen for him, a long time ago.

“You should be looking at where you’re going, Y/n,” James smirked, the distance between the two a few inches away making your heart flutter in your chest.

“You can let me go now, James.” You chuckled nervously, trying to fight the heat that was rising to your cheeks.

James helped you stand on your feet before taking his arm off of your waist. “So, how are you? Are you okay?”

“You know well for a fact that I am not okay, James.” You crossed your arms over your chest, rolling your eyes. “Where’s my brother?” 

James’ smile faltered, knowing exactly which brother you were asking for. “He’s with Remus,”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Take me to my brother, James.” 

James awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “He really doesn’t want to talk to you or Regulus.”

You felt disappointed. You and Regulus were supposed to be the closest people to him. But as much as you wanted to confront James about it, he seemed genuinely concerned for Sirius. 

“I'm sorry, Y/n. I wish I could do more to help.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “It's okay, James. I just want him to know that he's not alone, that Reg and I are here for him too.” You smiled sadly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I just really miss him.”

James nodded, his eyes sincere. “I'll tell him, I promise. And Y/n, if you ever need anything, just let me know.”

You smiled gratefully, still feeling conflicted about the whole situation. As James bid you farewell and continued on his way, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in your chest. Why wasn't Sirius reaching out?

But deep down, you knew that you'd never stop caring about your brother, even if he had chosen to leave. You were mad at him, yes, but that didn't mean you'd just forget him—like the rest of your family did—he was still your Siri, the best friend you and Regulus always had. And as the train rumbled on towards Hogwarts, you made a silent vow to yourself that you would let Sirius know that he was still loved. Because family was everything, and regardless of what had happened, you were determined to bring your family back together.

“For how long are you going to avoid your brother and sister, Padfoot?” James asked, opening the chocolate frog box in his hand. 

Sirius sighed, his eyes glued to the views outside. “I don’t know.”

“You know, Y/n really misses you,” James pointed out, stuffing the box in his pocket.

Sirius looked at James, his brows knitted in confusion. “How do you know that?” 

James gulped, avoiding Sirius’ gaze. “I kind of bumped into her a few minutes ago when I went to find the trolley witch.” 

“What did you do, Prongs?” Remus asked from beside Sirius. 

“Uh, so...InearlytoppledheroverandIheldherwaistsoshedidn’tfall.”

Remus raised a brow. “What?” 

James cleared his throat. “I nearly toppled her over, and I held her waist so she wouldn’t fall.”

“What the hell, Prongs!? You put your filthy hooves on my little sister!” Sirius exclaimed, his eyes widening in annoyance.

James held up his hands in defense. “I didn’t mean to! It was an accident, I swear!” 

Remus snorted. “Hooves? Really?”

Sirius huffed and crossed his arms, a scowl etched onto his lips. “I'm serious—don't you dare use my own pun at me, James! Keep your filthy hands to yourself when it comes to my sister!”

James nodded sheepishly, raising his hands up in defense. “Alright, alright!”

“I should talk to her, shouldn’t I?” Sirius mumbled, his eyes softening and the scowl replaced by a sad frown.

“Yeah, Padfoot, you should. She loves you, and she just wants to know you’re okay,” James said, placing a hand on Sirius’ shoulder.  

Sirius nodded, making up his mind. “Yeah, I’ll do it. I need to let her know that I’m alright.” 

“You have a few more hours to think about what you’re going to tell Y/n and Regulus,” Remus said, a smile on his lips. “They’ll understand; don't worry.”

Sirius sighed, knowing all too well that it wasn’t going to be easy to reach out to his siblings. “I hope they will.”

The Great Hall was bustling with the loud chatter of the students catching up about the holidays. Y/n Black slumped over the Slytherin table, completely forgetting the etiquette lessons she had been forced to learn from her mother for the past years of her life. The youngest Black daughter was in no mood to talk about her holidays, given what happened on Christmas night. 

“Y/n, come on, just eat something,” Pandora Rosier, your best friend, urged you to eat.

“I don’t want to,” you grumbled, your lips curling into a frown. 

Your friends had been pleading with you for the past fifteen minutes to eat, but you weren’t really in the mood for anything apart from walking back to your dorm room and just going ahead and sleeping the rest of the night away. 

“Starlight, please,” Regulus pleaded, his eyes filled with concern. You sighed, rolling your eyes, before grabbing a pumpkin pasty from the plate in front of you and taking a bite. “Happy?” 

Regulus groaned, fighting the urge to smile at his sister. “Just eat the damn pasty.” 

"So, Y/n, have you finished all of your homework?” Dorcas Meadowes, another one of your best friends, asked. 

“Of course I did,” you said matter-of-factly. “Mother would kill me if I didn’t.”

Dorcas snorted. “Your mother is quite charming, isn’t she?” 

“She isn’t charming, Dorcas,” Pandora chimed in, her brows knitted in confusion. “Mrs. Black is a terrible woman.” 

“It’s sarcasm, Pands." Dorcas rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice. 

“Oi, that’s still our mother,” Regulus said, glaring at the two girls. 

“Oh please, Reggie, you and I both know that Mother is a high class bitch.” You chuckled, playfully tossing crumbs of the pasty at Regulus. 

Regulus playfully scowled, feigning offense. “Oi, quit throwing crumbs at me!”

“I think your family is probably one of the most dysfunctional families I’ve ever seen.” Dorcas quipped, amusement evident in her eyes. 

You laughed, shaking your head. “You have no idea.”

Suddenly, the loud chatter died down to hush whispers. You turned around and saw Sirius walking in with his friends trailing behind him, his head held high as his eyes searched the Great Hall until they landed on you. 

Sirius gave you a small smile before making his way towards the Slytherin table. “Can we talk?” 

Regulus scowled, his fists clenching involuntarily. “No, go away-”

“Shut up, Regulus!” you hissed, kicking him from under the table. You turned to face your eldest brother. “How nice of you to finally reach out, Sirius,” you said, your voice laced with anger you couldn't stop from spilling out.

Sirius flinched at the harshness of your voice; he had never seen his sister look so angry. “Can we please just talk?” Sirius pleaded, his eyes filled with guilt. “Please, starlight, give me a chance.” 

Starlight. You sighed, the nickname tugging on your heartstrings. “Alright, let’s talk then.” You stood up and walked past Sirius, Regulus following closely behind.

Sirius led you and Regulus into an empty classroom, where the three of you settled in. Silence hung in the air, and tension was building between the three of you. “I’m sorry,” Sirius began, his voice filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have left like that; I was just so overwhelmed, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Regulus crossed his arms over his chest, his lips pressed into a tight line. “You left because you were weak.” 

Sirius sighed at Regulus’ words, but he nodded, acknowledging the truth. “I know, Reggie, and I’m so sorry.”

You sighed, feeling hurt. “You hurt both of us, Sirius. You didn’t even let us know if you were alright—I was worried sick about you!” 

“I know, starlight, and I regret it every day since I left. It was never my intention to hurt either of you.” Sirius admitted, his eyes filled with remorse. 

“So, are you coming back home?” You asked, a hopeful look in your eyes. 

Sirius’ eyes darkened for a split second. “No, I’m not going back to that hell hole.’’

“Then what’s the point of apologising, Sirius?” Regulus spat. “You can't just leave us and expect us to be okay with it!”

“But-” Sirius started, but Regulus scoffed loudly, cutting him off. “You are a coward, Sirius. You turn your back on your family and then expect us to just forgive you?”

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know I can’t expect forgiveness; I don’t deserve it. But I want you to know that I am always going to be your brother, no matter what.”

Regulus scoffed, standing up from his chair. “I don’t need you as my brother.”

You sighed, feeling conflicted between your brothers. You wanted so badly to forgive Sirius, but a part of you was agreeing with Regulus. He can't just leave and expect us to be okay with it. “So what? You’re just going to live with the Potters and forget about us?” 

“Yes, but-” 

“No, stop before you make yourself sound shallower than you already are.” you interrupted, shaking your head. “I just don’t understand, Sirius. The three of us, we’ve been through so much together, and then just like that, you left us. You left me.” 

“Starlight, please….” Sirius begged, stepping closer to you. But you stepped away, unable to look him in the eye.

“You made your bed, Sirius.” You choked out a sob. “Lie in it.”

Sirius hung his head in shame as he watched you leave the classroom. Regulus gave him a final glare before following after you. Sirius sat alone in the empty classroom, feeling the weight of his decisions. 

He lost his brother, he lost his sister, he lost his family.

@helens3amstuff @gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @lovemelikecrazyiloveyoucrazy @tchalamss @ashlynnmalfoy @crazycat-ladys-blog @michakune @mxltifxnd0m @spencerr3idd @dangelnleif @sthkate @ferrjulie @imnotoverlyobsessive @mel-vaz @elsagreeer @lovely-maryj @meowmeowmau @bobthe-turmpetman29 @saintcosette @ashisabitgay @ladyladybuggg @nyrasunderwrld @lilmaymayy @remussbitch @jadahxx @starrystormwritings @ell0ra-br3kk3r @dreary-salem @drewsandsebastianswife @greenapplegrass @lilianelena39 @danni-phant0m @haybellewrites @cloudlst @si4a @ev3ningrain @ttulipwritezz @bullets-from-another-dimension @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader @reg-arcturus-black @abruuinlove @marina468 @3stelar @timhalamet @st4rf00k3r @idli-dosa @jimins15thhair @blacksgarden

[jishyucks]

Out of Snow, Out of Mind – ksm

‣ pairing: kim seungmin x reader

‣ genre: fluff, frenemies to lovers?

‣ wc: 2.8k

‣ summary: After cursing the city and their poor excuse of cleaning the streets, you eventually swallow your pride and call your friends to help you free your car from the snow. And out of all the people that could have come, it really had to be Seungmin…

‣ warnings: nothing really!!, reader has poor knowledge of car care, mistletoe cliche, thts about it?, half-assed proofreading

‣ an: it's the literal way I was supposed to post this in January but my life said fuk u and your hobbies so just pretend this isn't like 2 months late thank you,, please enjoy!

Series Masterlist

You’re tired and you wanna go home.

That’s it.

You’ve been awake since six in the morning to get ready and get to school and now, just shy of five in the afternoon, almost twelve damn hours of using up your energy, you were ready to head home and take the nap you’ve been craving the entire day.

It really did not help that the sun was already setting. It already feels like it’s late in the evening when really, this was the time that most people would be returning home from work. It shouldn’t feel like it was an hour past dinner, but of course, winter meant shorter days and longer nights.

The cold weather causes a shiver to run up your back as you stiffly make your way down the neighbourhood near the university. 

Anything to not pay the overpriced parking, you always remind yourself. Besides, the parking wasn’t too far from the campus grounds. It was just far enough for you to tolerate the weather. 

You hadn’t realized that your face had been moulded into a scowl until you finally spotted your car parked and nestled against the curb. Muscle memory allows you to unlock the vehicle from the keys in your pocket before you carefully step off the sidewalk to get into your car. 

A sigh of relief leaves your mouth in the form of condensation, the interior of the car cold from sitting there all day, though it wasn’t as cold as you thought—probably from the works of the sun. You immediately start your engine, plug in your phone, and turn the heat up toward the windows so they can defrost.

The last playlist you had playing starts playing over the hum of the engine and you let yourself sit back and wait until the car was warm enough for you to actually move. It gave you time to recollect yourself, thoughts only occupied by the nap you’ve been wanting to take once you finally get home and then the essay you had to half-assedly begin because it was due in a week or so. 

The second you stop shivering, you sit up in the driver’s seat and huff, mentally preparing yourself for the careful drive home. 

That is… if you can even get out of your parking spot. 

You test the gas again, gently pressing your toe against the pedal to make sure that you weren’t just being a dumbass and stepping on the brakes. But when you audibly hear your wheels struggling to dig your car out of its place, you feel your heart drop to the pit of your stomach. 

Fuck, just try again, haha, maybe it’s just… a little bit stuck! 

You let out a nervous chuckle and then you try again… and again… and again… 

And no matter what you tried—backing up and accelerating forward, angling your wheels in different directions, hell, you even tried climbing onto the curb for some traction—nothing worked.

You step once more on the gas, “Oh, c’mon Nimby please just go, please!” (Yes, your car was named Nimby. It comes from the word cumulonimbus because it was white like a cloud).

You were stuck. 

And from the looks of it, the road around you was practically empty, there was no one around who could help you. 

“Shit.” 

You hit the steering wheel and decide to get out to see if you could scope out what you could do to get out. 

The cold air hits you once again and all you want to do is jump back into your car where it was toasty and cozy. Yet, the desire to be an independent adult and figure out what the hell was going on keeps you outside.

You inspect the outside of your vehicle, waddling around it like you were protecting territory, and surely enough you spot the very reason why the car wasn’t budging at all. 

Your front left tire was flat. Or at least it looked flat. 

“You better be fucking kidding me,” you mutter. You check on the tire, using the tip of your boot to press against the rubber.

Yeah, it was flat. So now you were both stuck and you had a flat tire. 

And you had no fucking idea how to get out of both problems. 

The first person you think of calling was Chan, simply because you knew that that man had knowledge for practically anything. And if anyone could get help you get out of shit, it would be him. 

You dial his number, and slide back into your car, letting out a sigh as the persistent heat greets you again. The phone rings several times before diverting to Chan's voicemail. You decide to end the call.

Okay, so Chan wasn’t an option. 

You huff and scroll through your contacts, right down to the Ms because your next option was Minho. 

The phone rings once… twice…

“What’s up?”

“Are you busy right now?” You’re chewing on your bottom lip and your other hand is playing with the ripped-up receipts in your pocket. 

“I’m at the vet for Soonie’s checkup,” Minho replies, “Why?”

“Um… car trouble? I was wondering if you could help me out.” You hated the feeling of asking for help. It felt as though you were begging for money despite knowing your friends never minded helping out. 

“I mean… I can but I just got to the vet’s so it could take a while.” At the other end of the line, you can hear the voice of a woman and Minho replies with Soonie’s name. 

You frown. Surely, you could wait for an hour at most, but you really didn’t want to. He could be the last resort if none of your other friends could offer help. 

You hum, “I’ll call the others first and if none can’t, then I’ll just text you?” 

“Of course, Y/N,” he says through the phone, “I’m sorry I can’t come sooner.” “You don’t need to apologize,” you frown, “You didn’t do anything wrong… I’ll talk to you later. I’ll ask the others.”

Minho makes a sound of acknowledgement before you both hang up. 

At least now you have an option. 

You scroll through your contacts, hitting up every friend you think might know a thing or two about cars, hoping one of them can swoop in at the last minute to rescue you. And from what you’re understanding, this was the worst time to get your car stuck. 

Changbin and Hyunjin were out on some outing, Yeji was stuck doing group work with Lia, Felix was sick, and Jisung wasn’t answering. 

Now you’re down to two final options.

In this situation, you knew Seungmin was a better option than Jeongin, simply because you were well aware that the man had better car knowledge between the two. But were you that desperate to ask Kim Seungmin for help? When Jeongin was still a pending option?

Your thumb hovers over Seungmin’s name and your heart starts to beat erratically simply by the sight of his name. 

No, you weren’t that desperate, but a small part of you wanted to see him again just because you needed to confront him about the Christmas party a few weeks ago. Besides, you’re sure you weren’t the only one itching to talk about it. 

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

“Kiss! Kiss!” 

The feeling of your heart falling to the pit of your stomach was absolutely sickening—especially when you had specifically told Jisung to keep you and Seungmin out of his shenanigans. But when Jisung had clues clear as glass that indicated your blooming feelings on the boy you claimed to ‘strongly dislike’, he knew he had to take action.

You hate the way the voices practically echo, bouncing from one wall to another. All eyes were on the two of you, Jisung standing further back as he held the mistletoe high above and between you and Seungmin. And you couldn’t do anything but stare at Seungmin in pure shock.

“Don’t be killjoys!” Someone hollered from the back. 

You gulped and blinked at Seungmin, “A… a peck wouldn’t hurt?”

The expression on Seungmin’s face was unreadable, features flat except for the way his mouth was slightly parted, “It wouldn’t…”

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ ⁺₊❆⋆

You cringe at the memory. 

Not because it was disgusting… but because you were the first one who had suggested going through with the kiss… you were the one who leaned in first… and you enjoyed it. 

Worst part of all was the fact it’s been almost three weeks since the kiss and you’ve been thinking about it ever since. 

You shake your head, consciously scrolling away from the S’s in your contacts and back up to the J’s, not even hesitating to tap on Jeongin’s name.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You let out a sigh of relief, greeting the boy back with half his energy before you go on to explain your situation. “And you’re practically my last resort!”

Jeongin’s end of the line is silent because he knows that you know he sucks with all things cars. Then he speaks up, “Have you called Seungmin Hyung?” 

“...No.” It’s funny because you know what Jeongin is implying. 

He sighs, “Send me your location.” 

You thank him and quickly follow his request, making a side note to yourself to give Jeongin the tightest hug when he arrives. It was honestly so heartwarming knowing that he was willing to help despite his limited car knowledge. 

As expected, you think. 

You feel your stress begin to ease, a newfound sense of optimism washing over you as you settle in your heated seat. For the first time today, you finally get to relax, drowning yourself in your music as you wait for Jeongin to arrive.

You’re later pulled out of your thoughts the second you see a car turn onto the road you’ve been sitting on for the last twenty minutes. The way it slowly inches closer causes you to perk up, sitting up straighter in your seat just so you can watch it approach you through the rearview mirror. 

Then, it parks right behind you. 

“Hm?” The inner ends of your brows almost touch when you realize that the car is not Jeongin’s. No, you couldn’t name his exact car model, but you knew his car was a dark blue. This car, however, was sleek black, looking like it had just run through the car wash even though the streets were covered in dirty, slush-like snow. 

Your eyesight fails you when you squint to figure out who this is, ocular muscles trying their absolute best to focus on the face of the car’s owner. And then…

“What the fuck?” 

You hastily open your car door and get out, the owner doing the same, “What are you doing here?” 

Seungmin is planted behind his opened car door, using it as a barrier between the two of you. His flat expression doesn’t budge, “You needed help.” 

Your heart is pounding simply because you weren’t mentally prepared to actually see Seungmin right now. If Jeongin had warned you that he was going to be sending him, you would have at least run lines in your head of what you could be saying to him. 

“Not from you,” you shake your head, “Where’s Jeongin? You can go.”

Seungmin takes a step back and shuts his door, “Just show me what you need help with.” The tone in his voice was considerably serious and you know that no matter what you did, he wasn’t going to leave you without his help. 

The air is a tinge bit awkward when you both stand there before you finally choose to reply, turning around without bothering to wave him over. You kick at the nuisance of a tire and explain your situation for the millionth time today. And when you look up at him, Seungmin’s already looking back at you. 

“Did you get all that?” you ask.

He nods and quietly squats down to inspect the tire. Then, after a while, he lets out a huh before standing up to open your door. You’re not entirely sure what he’s doing, but you let him do whatever he needs. 

Seungmin says something to you over his shoulder but you don’t catch it. He pulls himself out from inside and then stands stiffly in front of you, “Did you pump the tires when it said low tire pressure?” 

Your eyes widened, “No…?”

He puffs his cheeks, “That explains it.” 

Your brows fall closer together and your lips tighten, “You came to help me and you’re choosing to be mean to me?”

Seungmin brushes past you, heading straight for his car, and for a moment, you fear he's about to leave. You hesitate to stop him, mainly because you don’t want him to leave. Sure, he’s offering you help, but you haven’t seen him since the party. 

But as he reaches his car's trunk instead of the driver's seat, a wave of relief washes over you. He pulls out a metal box, a rubber coil poking out like a tail. 

“You should’ve pumped the tires while it was warning you,” Seungmin says quietly, twisting off the cap of your tire. He forcefully pushes the air compressor’s hose onto the valve stem and then flicks the machine on, “It leads to flat tires.” You watch as you visibly see your tire inflate, the front end of your car rising along with it. 

“Get in the car and slowly press on the gas.” Seungmin flicks the machine back off and pulls the hose off, twisting the cap back onto the stem, “I’ll push.”

The third time Seungmin walks straight past you, it dawns on you that he is avoiding eye contact, keeping his gaze at your feet or at his toes. 

There was no way he wasn’t. No one could go that long conversing with someone without making eye contact. 

“Are you sure you can do it on your own?” Your hand’s already hovering over the door handle. 

He nods, eyes flickering toward you before he redirects them to the back end of your car, “You wanna go home, don’t you?”

Then you pause. 

“I do,” you answer and then swallow the spit that’s been pooling in your mouth, “But—”

“You’re wasting gas, you know,” he interrupts.

 “Let me speak,” You groan, air visibly leaving your mouth. “Are we going to talk about the kiss?”

“There’s nothing about it that we need to talk about,” Seungmin mutters. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, “Now, hurry up.”

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrow, “What are you implying?”

“I mean you only did it to please everyone, right?” He shrugs, “It didn’t mean anything, right?” 

“What makes you say that?” Seungmin was pissing you off. He can’t be speaking cryptically and consciously choosing not to explain himself. 

“I don’t know,” Seungmin mumbles, “Can you just get in the car so we can get out of here?”

You clench your jaw, frustration bubbling inside you like a pot ready to boil over. Why the hell did Seungmin choose to help you out if he had no intentions of confrontation? "No, Seungmin, I can't just ignore this," you retorted, your voice firm. "We kissed, and pretending like it didn't mean anything isn't going to make this… this whatever it is go away."

Seungmin’s shoulders tense and his gaze flickers to his feet. "Look, I don't want to have this conversation right now," he says, his tone bordering on exasperation. "Can we please just deal with the car and talk about this later?"

“Did that kiss mean anything to you, yes or no?” you say bluntly. Your hand drops to your side and you fix your eyes on him.

Seungmin's gaze holds yours for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your question. The tension between you crackles in the air, the weight of the moment heavy on both of you.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Seungmin lets out a slow breath, keeping the muscles in his face as still as possible. He attempts to keep his expressions at bay. "Yes," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper but clear as day. "Yes, it meant something to me."

The words hang between you, and the silence that follows is filled with possibility and uncertainty. You feel your heart race in your chest, a rush of emotion flooding through you at his admission. And although you had mentally prepared yourself for either answer, imagining the answer was far different from actually hearing the words. 

"I like you, Y/N," Seungmin continues, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. "More than I thought I did."

The confession sends a shiver down your spine, a surge of warmth spreading through you at his words. For a moment, neither of you speak, the weight of his confession hanging on a thin thread between the two of you.

Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, you reach out and take his hand in yours, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. And softly, you tell the boy the thing you’ve been keeping to yourself for months. 

"I like you too, Seungmin.”

taglist: @tytrackfebreze @hoonieji @niinjo @dinonuguaegi @ariadores @reignessance

an: 11/12 im almost there

[lightvialamp]

january 12 - stretch || @jegulus-microfic || wc: 787 || pt 2, pt 3

James felt sunlight dance over his face and hands as he pushed his glasses, charmed to become sunglasses according to the level of light in the room (hours of work, but he was proud of the finished product), up into his hair. He sighed. He could feel eyes on him again, which was fine, he didn’t mind being watched really, but it was Regulus—he knew without even opening his eyes—and this had happened every day since it had gotten warm enough to leave the castle and hang out by the lake. 

James had half a mind to open his eyes and catch him in the act, but he knew Regulus would immediately retreat, and he didn’t feel like waiting until tomorrow to try and actually speak with him. He stretched leisurely, for show, before packing up his things and heading in the direction of the castle, pulling out the map surreptitiously on his way. Regulus was where James knew he would be, right on the edge of the forest and tucked behind a dip in the lake that most people walked right past. 

He looked around before he doubled back, grinning to himself at the prospect of sneaking up on Regulus, maybe watching him go red at being caught. Nothing serious, but he had a free hour, and a flustered Regulus was always fun to talk to. 

He walked around the back of the clearing and leaned against a tree, watching Regulus read one of the countless books that he always kept miniaturized in his pocket. He huffed a laugh to himself– Regulus wasn’t the only one who watched. 

James shifted his weight from one foot to the other, preparing to walk further into the clearing, but before he could, Regulus looked up, caught James’ eye, and froze completely. James would have laughed if he didn’t know how painfully shy Regulus was, and how much anxiety a single interaction could give him. Sirius felt the same way sometimes, though he hid it behind boisterous energy and charm that had been bred into him since he could talk. Regulus hadn’t been given the same attention. 

“Hi.” James decided to get the ball rolling the best way he knew how– going with the flow. 

Regulus didn’t say anything, choosing instead to flick his eyes from James’, down to his lap and then back up again, lip curling up derisively but a hint of nervousness still evident in his demeanor. 

“Whatcha doing over here?” James tried. 

“Reading, Potter. New fad, doubt you’ve heard of it. Please go away now,” Regulus replied all in one breath. 

“Okay yeah cool, not a problem,” James said, grinning. “I was just. You know. Curious if you wanted anything from me.”

Regulus flushed immediately, his pale skin not doing anything to hide his reaction. “I don’t want anything to do with you, actually. Thanks for asking.”

“So you’re just staring for fun?”

“What are you talking about?” James didn’t realize it was possible for Regulus to turn any redder, but his blush deepened, spreading across his neck and down under his collar at James’ question. 

“Oh it’s just. I see you, you know. You’re not exactly covered by anything. And generally, staring is considered rude. I don’t mind, being the benevolent soul that I am, but you might want to–” James tapped his head twice at this last bit. “--keep that in mind. For future…staring purposes.”

“Merlin,” Regulus huffed, seemingly over his bout of embarrassment at being caught out. “Thank you for the tip, oh Benevolent Master, but I won’t be needing it.”

“Oh?” 

“No.” Regulus cocked his head to the side, giving James a full once-over before speaking, his voice now soft, verging on sultry. “What makes you think I didn’t want you to notice?”

James’ mouth went dry, and instinctively, he took a step closer to Regulus, drawn in by some force— the same one that had derailed this conversation so entirely from what he’d been expecting. Regulus laughed once, a bright, sharp thing, as he gathered his things, stood up, and made for the castle. He turned around right before the edge of the clearing, backlit and a little bit breathtaking. How James had never noticed this before, he wasn’t sure. 

“See you tomorrow, Potter. Same time, I assume,” Regulus tossed at him before turning back around. He was halfway up the hill by the time James had gathered the wherewithal to say anything at all. 

“I guess so, Regulus,” he muttered under his breath, feeling like he had just lost a game he hadn’t even known he was playing. He started his own trek across the grass as he thought. Regulus had his attention now. And James loved a good game.

[fereldanwench]

A Personal, and Final, Reflection on A Certain Fandom

Having spent the past week and a half away from the Tumblr side of the C*b*rp*nk community after a resurgence of old wank (not hashing out the details–IYKYK), I heavily weighed the pros and cons of saying anything else. Ultimately, I decided for my own peace of mind and ability to fully move forward, I do want to say a few things (or a lot of things, given how long this is). This blog is my personal archive first and foremost, and I think writing a “final chapter” will help me find closure. I’m also choosing to publish this because, at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I think my mistakes and subsequent revelations might be good learning experiences for others, too. 

Like many of us, just by the nature of when this game was released, I entered this fandom during a very fragile, tumultuous time in my life–Well, sort of, let me back it up a little: I actually initially entered it during a great time in my life. It was July 2021, I had just enjoyed about 6 weeks off from work after quitting a demanding job that had sucked the life out of me for almost 10 years, and I had started a promising new job. I even bought the game with the first paycheck from said new job!

Unfortunately, while I had been told that this position was temp-to-hire, not only was it not a path to a permanent role, but because I completed all the work in my contract over a month sooner than they anticipated (early September vs late October), I was being let go early because they had nothing else for me to work on. I was literally told over the phone, “You did amazing work, you got us caught up through November, but we don’t have anything else for you.”

Cue about 6 months of recruiters ghosting me, exhausting interview processes, demoralizing rejections, and scam upon scam upon scam, all culminating in me returning to the job I had been so happy to leave a year earlier. And while my old coworkers were ecstatic to have me back, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete failure. I took what I thought was a calculated risk, I thought I could do something better for myself, and I couldn’t. It’s something I’m still struggling with today, honestly.

On top of this, I also experienced a debilitating physical health episode in January 2022 which led to me being effectively bedridden for about 3 weeks. [CW: Menstruation, sexual health] I’m not sure of the exact cause–maybe a bad reaction to emergency contraception, maybe unsafe menstrual underwear, but it resulted in menorrhagia so severe I fainted from blood loss. My insurance had literally just ended, another wave of COVID was hitting, and I didn’t want to risk getting infected sitting in an ER for hours only to rack up a few thousand in debt to get a blood transfusion. So rest, iron supplements, and lots of meat and spinach and orange juice was the best I could do.

All of this led to my world becoming very small. I wasn’t working, I could barely do my hobbies or see my local friends, and simple everyday tasks like showering drained me of all my energy. When I was stuck in bed and could barely keep my eyes open for more than a few hours at a time, gossip was a welcome, low-effort distraction from the physical pain and fear that I might either have to put myself in thousands of dollars of medical debt or risk lifelong damage (or worse) from the blood loss.

I also found myself having groups of friends in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’m extremely introverted (even online, though less so than IRL), I have social anxiety, and the handful of times I have been “in” a group I was never really in it. I was always on the outskirts and usually just close to one or two people, max.

Regretfully, this set the stage for me to get caught up in the culture of rumors and speculation that permeates this fandom more than I think it has any other fandom I’ve been a part of.

Academically, I know about things like groupthink and tribalism, and I could see how those influenced the groups developing in the fandom, but I had no direct, personal experience with those phenomena. I think in conjunction with the other struggles I was dealing with, I ended up being incredibly susceptible to an us-versus-them mentality, which led me to feel justified in being unkind to people I knew had been unkind to my friends, even if deep down I knew what I was doing was antithetical to who I strive to be. 

I don’t share any of this for sympathy points or to smear anyone else or to avoid accountability–I still chose to act like an ass on a couple of occasions, and regardless of what I was going through, that was still inappropriate. I’m still responsible for my own behavior no matter what’s going on. 

But I do want to contextualize my fuck-ups for two reasons:

The first reason is ego-driven, full-stop. Not even gonna gloss it over. I can’t defend being an asshole nor do I want to, but I think it’s normal and healthy to look back on your mistakes and go, damn, why the hell was I acting like this? 

Even on my best days, I can be very stubborn and self-important and pedantic and judgemental, and I certainly can’t say that I’ve never inadvertently offended someone–Sometimes a joke might not land as I hoped. Sometimes I get tangled up in my own thoughts, burdened by an excess of nuance and details, and I express things poorly while I try to account for all sides of things. Sometimes I can get a little too opinionated about blorbo stuff. Sometimes there might just be a full communication breakdown or an insurmountable personality clash–But I can also confidently say that I have acted with good intentions in this fandom far, far more than I have with spite or because of petty rivalries.

And when I did get caught up in the drama and gossip and the wank? I was literally at the lowest point I’d been in a very, very long time. 

Again, because I feel like I can’t say this enough, that doesn’t make acting like a dick in a Discord server any more excusable, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt anyone, and that doesn’t mean that someone I hurt during that time has to forgive me or stick around for me to grow. Hurting someone because you’re hurting is still not okay. But I’m pretty sure every single one of us has had a bad day (or two or three or 365 or–) and made an isolated bad decision (or two or three or–) because of it–None of us deserve to be wholly defined by those moments or denied a chance to learn from those mistakes and be better.

And I think the most important takeaway for me personally is that I have learned from these mistakes and I have not repeated them. Some of these mistakes even helped me realize that I needed professional support for my mental health, and they played a role in my seeking medication and therapy last year. I still have a lot of work to do, but the silver lining to all of this is that I am in a much better place today than I was 2 years ago (even if this year also fucking sucks for non-fandom reasons and I would still very much like a goddamn break.)

The other reason I wanted to share my journey of navel-gazing and healing a wounded ego ~*self-discovery*~ is I think there’s a very good chance my story might sound familiar to others in the fandom. Maybe someone else can learn from my hardships and mistakes, too. Maybe you too were dealing with chronic fatigue or mental health issues or financial stress or isolation or all of the above and then some, and it led you to fixate on things that were harmful to you, to form unhealthy relationships with equally hurt people, and to act in a way that you know doesn't reflect who you are. The past several years have been so hard on so many of us, and I think we’ve all brought a lot of pain and misery into the community even if we weren’t trying to.

A somewhat shameful realization I had last year was I could recognize that kind of behavior in other people, but I completely missed it in myself. I could see how people were making this fandom their whole world and how it was so damaging to them, but I was doing the exact same thing and I just let it go completely unchecked because I thought I knew better. It was a brutal lesson in the pitfalls of pride. 

--------

So I was initially thinking at this point, I would take the time to address a few specific lies, rumors, and insinuations that have been said about me over the past couple of years. Because while I was a jerk in a couple of situations, most of the things said about me are exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.

And I did start writing a lot of that out, but as I was doing it, I was just overcome with a huge feeling of OH MY GOD I just don’t fucking care anymore. As one of my dear, long-time fandom friends has pointed out, there’s a great line about just this kind of thing from one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite games: “Why should it [bother me]? They don’t know me. I know me.”

I also really don’t want to run the risk of pulling anyone back into the fray (especially if they’re not even in the fandom anymore or if we’ve talked privately about certain issues) by even alluding to shit that happened years ago.

Instead, I would like to offer three of my big takeaways from the experience of being falsely accused of awful things:

You do not know nearly as much as you think you know about people’s fandom relationships. The one semi-specific thing I will mention is that I had been explicitly named a few times as being in cahoots with people I don’t think I ever even spoke to or that I had already drifted away from–Just because you saw two people existing in the same public space doesn’t mean they’re besties, bestie. Also, friends don’t always have to agree with each other, nor should we be expected to participate in a public spectacle of shaming if we do have a disagreement. People are allowed to resolve their differences privately.  

Not all conflicts/disagreements are inherently abusive or toxic. When you are hurting or dealing with unresolved trauma or starting to confront uncomfortable truths about yourself, the slightest disagreement can feel like a personal attack, but that doesn’t mean it is. Sometimes differences might be irreconcilable, but sometimes they might not be if you don’t automatically assume the worst of someone with a different perspective than you. Sometimes we just need to give the other person a little grace and the benefit of the doubt that they’re doing their best. And sometimes we might need to consider that it’s actually our own behavior driving the conflict and not the other person.

Even in situations when someone has clearly been unfairly targeted/victimized, that doesn’t mean they can’t also be a perpetrator of harassment/abuse to someone else. Victim and abuser are not mutually exclusive roles. I would wager a lot of us are familiar with the cyclical nature of abuse, and to quote a line from one of my favorite movies (admittedly a bit of a flippant line in the context of the film, but it still rings true): hurt people hurt people. Accountability for shitty behavior is never conditional, regardless of the pain we’re experiencing. 

--------

I titled this my final reflection, and I want to clarify what that means:

First of all, I’m not leaving this fandom (don’t everyone clap at once ha ha ha). I’ve been in various online fandoms since the early 00s, and while this has been one of the more challenging communities for me to navigate, it’s not enough to make me give up something I love this much. My blorbos are my perpetual muses, and I feel like virtual photography is the creative outlet I’ve been searching for my entire life. I love this game and hobby too much to stop creating and sharing.

I’m also not leaving Tumblr. While I’ve had this specific account since 2016, I’ve been here since 2010–Tumblr is not just this fandom for me. I have many friends (some I’ve known since my original account in 2010!) from other fandoms, and I’m not losing the best place to hang out with other people who are special to me just because one fandom got a little unpleasant. (I mean, look, I weathered the DA fandom here circa 2012-2015–This ain’t my first rodeo.) I also have a lot of hope for the Tumblr Communities feature, and I’m really hoping the VP community we’ve set up can continue to grow and flourish.

But I am no longer addressing any of this wank. If you have a problem with something I’ve done or said to you and you want to address it with me directly (preferably in a private space just so we don’t keep putting this shit on people’s dashboards), I am open to conversation and apologizing where needed.

Otherwise, this is the last time I’m talking about it anywhere. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, publicly, privately–I’m done. I’m washing my hands of it. I don’t want to hear anything else about what other people have done or who they’re friends with or who they’re following or what they’re saying about me or my friends or any of it. This bullshit has taken up too much of my time and energy, and I have very important smutty shots to take. 

And I am probably going to continue to be less active in the fandom on Tumblr, at least for a while. You probably won’t see me here much until September at the earliest. This time away has been really good for me, and I think I need to continue with limited Tumblring and making the time I am here more structured. Plus, with some of my other fave video game series returning this fall, my blog will probably shift back to a more well-balanced multi-fandom space. 

I’m also going to need to diversify my dash a little bit more, which means I will likely end up unfollowing some mutuals, particularly if we don’t interact often, if you don’t tag, or if I see any mention of fandom drama–It’s nothing personal, but I know breaking mutualship can hurt a little, so if following me after that makes you uncomfortable in any way, please don’t feel like you have to stick around. I totally get it. Similarly, if it would make you uncomfortable for me to continue to interact with your posts after unfollowing (because I probably will if you post in certain tags), please feel free to block me. 

Okay. Christ, that was long. Shut the fuck up already, right? This is why I can't do social media with character limits. ghdfjgjhkfdgkfdg

Seriously, though, that's it. People are welcome to comment on this post if they want, but I really have nothing else to say about any of this so please don’t be offended if I don’t reply. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just… Well, done.

[yandere-to-express]

The goth and thembo

Gn

“Detention?! Already?! You just got here a month ago!”

Y/n sighed, already expecting this reaction from their homeroom teacher. Granted, the punishment wasn’t for anything too bad; they just slept in a lot more than they meant to, and the “jet-lag” excuse after moving their whole life across the Atlantic for their parents’ careers must have worn off after the first few weeks. Honestly, with the lack of sleep and stress catching up to them? They thought they were lucky they were making it into school and managing homework at all.

They nodded along as the teacher droned on about responsibility – as if they hadn’t heard it a thousand times over at home already – pretending to listen as the hyperactivity in their brain buzzed and clouded over any form of caring enough.

Hmm, what would they have for dinner tonight? Pasta’s easy, and their parents weren’t going to be back until late in the evening, so they might as well try cooking whilst they could. Maybe clean up and do whatever bullshit homework they were given today so they don’t forget...They should play Animal Crossing, their town was probably itching for all the weeds to be pulled out, maybe a little bit of Pokémon after too, not Crystal though, the battery went all funky on the cartridge...

“...We can work out a way to prevent this from happening again,” came Mrs Stewart’s stern voice through the brain fog and, oh, no, why would she say that? Y/n nodded hesitantly in response, internalising all their complaints. ”Because this can’t happen again, Y/n. You’ve been an excellent student from what I’ve seen and heard so far, and it would be a real shame for this to drag you down.”

“It won’t happen again, I’ll work on it,” Y/n lied through their teeth, hazel eyes attempting to keep to one spot on the teacher’s face, but failing. Mrs Stewart nodded, features finally relaxing. Somehow, she believed them.

“Good, see to it you do. You may go, you’ll be late for second period otherwise.”

“Detention isn’t so bad,” Lucy reassured, making her voice loud enough to be heard over the din of the dining hall. “I had one for a late assignment last semester. It was actually kinda chill, you hear the weirdest stories in there, but it’s really fun.”

Y/n sipped from their drink with a frown, pushing their messy brown hair from their face as they tried to listen. They’d been buddied up with Lucy when they arrived back in January, meaning they were now stuck with all the loud kids at lunch. They weren’t complaining, mind you, the company was nice! It just gave them a headache at best, and at worst so far...Well, they didn’t understand what was wrong with them, but they’d rather not think about it. Anxiety was enough of a diagnosis for them right now.

“Look, I’m just saying, it’ll be fine! Try not to fall asleep in there, though, you might get into more trouble.”

“Thanks, Lucy, real great advice,” they rolled their eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm as they bit into their apple. Lucy just shrugged with a wink.

“Anytime, Y-Y.”

The lunch period continued as usual, and soon enough the bell ringed for the next round of classes to start. Great. Just what they needed right now, two hours sugar-coated history of a country they knew nothing about when they felt like falling asleep at any moment, right before detention. Still, they couldn’t just skip, that’d earn extra punishments. So, they dragged their feet through the halls, somehow staying upright through the hustle and bustle that was 10 times worse than the now seemingly very small Secondary School in England that they’d left behind for this. As much as they hated to admit it, Y/n would love to hear another British accent loudly proclaim someone had cheated on so-and-so in the middle of the corridor, but, alas, that was an experience they’d never burden again. Instead, they had to fight for their life with exhaustion as thousands of students streamed into their classes with the force of a burst pipe.

Somehow, they made it in, grunting at the greeting the person who sat next to them gave – their name was TK, right? They were too tired to remember or care – and flopping down in their chair with a sigh. Curse these huge American schools with huge American student, their poor feet felt like they were going to drop off!

Soon enough, the History teacher – Mr Russel – started his droning on about some time when alcohol was banned across the nation. Or, uh, something like that, Y/n wasn’t really paying attention, doodling on the corners of their pages instead. They did the work! They just didn’t soak in the information. Mr Russel said it was good work later on, so clearly they were doing something right regardless.

Suddenly though, in the middle of the lesson, the door slammed open and a pissed off, lanky ball of edge strode in. The teacher frowned at the intrusion.

“Well, good afternoon, Mr King! Would you mind explaining where you’ve been?”

The student just kept walking, grunting something about being dress-coded, which, uh, yeah that seems likely with that thin mesh shirt in the middle of February, Y/n thought, not realising they were staring by the time the kid sat in the vacant seat next to them. He caught their gaze as Mr Russel continued the lesson, narrowing his piercing, bright blue eyes.

“What?” he snarled, making Y/n flush with embarrassment at getting caught staring.

“S-Sorry,” they quickly whispered, trying their hardest not to look his way again, catching glimpses of him looking bored throughout the lesson.

Little did they know, that wouldn’t be the last they’d see of him.

“Who was that?!” they blurted to TK once the lesson ended, seeing as the goth kid had already left. TK looked up at them from their packing, startled.

“W-Who?”

“Goth kid with the attitude! How come I’ve never seen him before?!”

“Oh, him,” TK grimaced, turning their attention back to their bag. “Yeah, uh, that’s Peter King. Gets into fights and stuff a lot, and honestly that’s what he’s like on a good day. In fact, that’s gotta be the calmest I’ve ever seen him. You have detention, right? He’ll be in there because of the dress-code violation, try not to stare again.”

And so, once they both said goodbye, Y/n trudged along to their doom, knowing they couldn’t stop themself from staring again if the opportunity came about.

Because, honestly? As intimidating as he was, this “Peter” character was rather intriguing. They’d wanted to get into gothic dress themself recently, maybe if they miraculously befriended him, he’d say where he got his gear from. Maybe not the mesh tee...Maybe. At least, not until the Summer...And definitely not without a tank top or a binder...

Soon they reached the classroom detention was being held in, noticing that, well, no one was actually going inside. They spotted the goth from before, swallowing their anxiety down since he was the only one who they really knew of and recognised, and fumbled their way towards him nervously.

“U-Um...” they began, stuttering with uncertainty. Peter looked down with a frown.

“What do you want,” he growled, practically baring his teeth and oh goodness his teeth don’t be into him you don’t know him Y/n you weirdo.

“I-I, um, this is detention, r-right?” they carried on, shrinking under his stare. “I-I’m sorry for staring earlier b-by the way, um, you look c-cool...”

Peter stared a little longer, brows furrowing deeper.

“U-Um...I’m Y/n by the way.”

...That gaze was intense holy shit, Y/n couldn’t help but look away with heated cheeks, sweating nervously. Oh, man, they’d got off on the wrong foot and he wasn’t interested in fixing that, was he?! They didn’t want an enemy! TK said he fights people, God, they hoped he wouldn’t want to fight them ! They couldn’t knock out a butterfly!

“...Peter,” he finally said, making Y/ look back up in surprise. He was looking away from them...Was he blushing? No, no, maybe their eyes were just really tired. “You’re in the right place, teacher’s just late. Uh...Thanks. I guess. The teacher who dress-coded me certainly didn’t think so.”

“U-Uh huh, w-well, what do they know, huh,” Y/n laughed nervously, trying to ease whatever tension they could sense emanating off of the other in droves. “T-They’re teachers, they aren’t the best as, um, fashion, I guess?”

Peter scoffed, shoulders relaxing a little as he pushed some of the long, dark hair out of his face.

“You’re tellin’ me, first day back after suspension and they pull this shit.”

This drew a more earnest giggle from Y/n (really, Y/n, giggling ?!), making Peter chuckle a little too, tension fading away more with each passing second.

Soon enough the assigned teacher showed up, apologising profusely and letting the students in. They answered a brief roll-call, and soon enough there was a muted chatter among the kids, some choosing to work, others ignoring all school-related possibilities. Somehow, Y/n had already befriended the lanky goth enough for him to instantly sit at the desk next to theirs, and they found themselves being watched as they attempted the bullshit Math homework that had been assigned earlier in the day. Not that they minded, they figured the other didn’t have much to talk about, and that was fine with them. It gave them more of a chance to focus, after all.

After about 20 minutes, however, Peter finally spoke up.

“...So what’re you in for?” he asked, voice gravelly and interrupting Y/n concentration. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted. “You definitely didn’t get coded, and you look way too small to fight anything.”

Ouch, harsh, not everyone is over 6’ and can fight God. “Um, it’s not that special,” they shrugged, choosing to ignore the slight insult. “I, um, I just slept in a whole lot.”

“Huh,” he nodded, looking away absently for a moment, as if he were thinking of what to say next. “...Not a great sleeper, huh?”

“Nope, haven’t been since I was, what, 5?” Y/n sighed, trying to make sense of the equation on the page in front of them.

“Ah.”

The two were silent again, but y/n couldn’t help but feel it was much more awkward now. It felt like they both had things to say but didn’t know how to string the words together.

“...So, um...” they began, fumbling for a topic. “...Where’d you get your choker?”

“Oh. Uh, just Hot Topic,” he answered, looking away almost sheepishly. “It was on sale, so...”

“Cool, I’ll have to get one,” Y/n hummed, quickly writing it down on their hand.

The conversation came and went throughout the rest of the remaining 40 minutes, but soon enough the detention ended. The class of kids streamed out, Y/n and Peter being the last ones to leave as they trudged out of the school and into the crisp, late-Winter air, clunky shoes and warm boots crunching the powdering of snow on the ground beneath them. They reached the gate, Y/n pointing to where they were going, and the boy paused.

“Hey, uh, you have a cell?” he asked almost hopefully (almost). Y/n looked up at him in surprise; they hadn’t expected to befriend him so soon!

“O-Oh! Yeah, hang on, let me, um-” the fumbled in their coat pockets finally producing the little pink flip-phone, little rainbow and star charms attached and all, clicking through to their contact and holding it up to offer him a view. “Um, here!”

“Mhmm,” he nodded, quickly typing in the contact details on his own, clunky little phone. He looked back at them, almost pouting. “Uh...You were fun to talk to...I’ll talk to you later I guess?”

y/n smiled brightly up at him with a nod, waving cheerfully as they walked away.

...How did this happen to him?

There he was being pissed off at the world when suddenly... They got all fucking cute. How could this not happen to him?!

As he watched them walk away, clutching his phone desperately, he began to grin sinisterly.

He may as well make sure that...his new Darling got home safe, right? He’d get to see their home in the process, after all, and, oh, it was always so dark so early on February nights like these, he wouldn’t want anyone getting any bright ideas, would he?

And so, he stalked after them silently as the sun set, y/n blissfully unaware of the Hell they’d brought upon themself that day.

(I saved this story file that got deleted original from inkblot_skyz)

[glade-constellation]

Not Built For This

Sun x Reader

Summary : Sun is having a difficult time, finally cracking under the stress of his job after a run in with a rude parent. You’re there to comfort him.

Trigger Warning(s) : Mentions of abusive/neglectful parent and alcohol, accidental self harm, mention of decommissioning

Rating : T, SFW

Word Count : 2053

Extra : Just a little one-shot I wrote a while ago, sometime in January of this year. I apologize if it’s a little odd. I wrote it when I was having a bad time myself, but I really enjoy how it came out and wanted to share.

“Because I wasn’t built for this!”

Sun threw his hands into the air, bells on his wrist ringing out softly, before he fell to the floor in a ball. You knew he couldn’t cry. Fazbear was at least smart enough to not build their bots with working tear ducts and have them start sparking like a lit firework. But you swore, in that moment, Sun’s eyes glassed over with unshed tears. His shaking frame leaked of such pure anguish you wondered if he’d been built with a human soul. Even covered in stray marker lines and spots of sparkling glitter, he looked so violently drowned in his own emotional pain that you felt it yourself.

“I wasn’t built to do any of this! The ‘daycare attendant’ wasn’t even a role when the Plex was first built! Why do you think we had so many complaints over the years? Why I seem too overbearing or Moon sometimes acts far too frightening for the kids? That’s what we were built for. Performances. Short bursts of dramatic entertainment. Comedy and tragedy. We were theater performers.”

The hiccuping static coming from his voice box was too close to sounding like a cry. His frame creaked and groaned, sounding as if about to combust. Knowing how little maintenance the two of them received, the possibility was too high for your liking. “Sun, honey, I need you to listen-“

“The kids weren’t even supposed to be near us! We were supposed to be up on a stage, only interacting when engaging with the crowd.”

You took a step forward, hands rising as if to reach out to him, “Sun, please, you’re going to hurt-”

A soft crunching sound filled the air. “We’re had to learn all of this ourselves, no help from anyone. Playtime, time outs, kissing the boo-boos away, we’ve had to learn all of it by watching others. People who didn’t even like working here, didn’t like us.”

He didn’t even notice the now dented rays in his hands. “Sunny, please-”

“I try my hardest every day to be the best I can be and do the best I can do with what very limited resources I was given and no one seems to care about anything I do meaning Fazbear hates us and we’re so close to being decommissioned for something we can’t even help-”

“SUN!”

Besides the rattling of his frame, there was finally silence. You stood over his curled body, hands gently but firmly placed on the sides of his face. Even without visible pupils, you could see when his eyes finally focused with yours. With slow movements, you softly began to remove his hands from his now bent rays. “You’re hurting yourself.”

Slowly, hesitantly, he moves his hands with yours. He slides them towards you, reaching but not touching. An unasked request for comfort. As you reach to pull him forward, he grabs your hips and does the same. There’s a moment in the silence when he simply holds you to him. Then the dam finally breaks.

Sun buries his face into your stomach and sobs.

It’s not quiet or soft, full of shaky breaths and muffled whimpers. It’s not like the daycare kids who threw fits with sharp huffs and cries. Sun folds into you and he screams, static scratching through his voice box. It’s loud and aching and broken, so defeated that your own heart couldn’t help but break with him. He grips you like a lifeline as he cries, frame shivering and vibrating so roughly yours afraid he might actually begin to fall apart. A star in threat of collapsing in on itself.

You let him cry. You hold him as he screams and you try not to cry yourself. Your hand moves from his shoulder to one of his rays, gently tracing it in a way you knew calmed him down.

It’s a while before he finally calms down enough to speak coherent words, but what he says only breaks you farther. “I’m sorry,” drops from his mouth, so strained in static you almost can’t make it out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He repeats it over and over like a mantra. You open your mouth, going to shush him, but freeze as he continues. “Please please please, don’t decommission us, don’t throw us out. I can do this, I can do this, I’m not broken, just a small mishap. Won’t happen again, I can do it, I’m sorry.”

You’re having not of that.

Pull his face away from you, you drop down to your knees. Your gaze is firm as you stare into his eyes. “Sun, you listen to me and you listen to me good. This wasn’t your fault. None of this was. You said it yourself, you weren’t built for this. Nothing about what you do in the daycare is part of a program you or Moon own.”

You stop for a moment, just long enough to cup your hands against the sides of his face. He’s still crying, but he’s listening, and that’s what matters right now. “But you want to know something? That makes what you do in here so fucking brilliant. You care for these kids almost every day, playing with them and cleaning their messes and kissing their hurts away, and you do it so much better than any of the human assistants I’ve seen sulking in here before me. You may not have been built for this but you do it so beautifully that I wouldn’t have known any better unless you or Moon told me. The fact that you had to learn how to do all of this while locked away in here with no help but your own two eyes is frankly far more astounding than Fazbears’ ability to create your AIs. How you haven’t lost it up until now is a fucking wonder.” You shake your head, chuckling.

“But maybe that’s just a testament to you two’s innate ability to love with all your being. When you two commit to loving something, you give yourself away to it. I watch you with those kids all the time and you treat them like a parent would their own children. As a parent should love their children. You spend hours upon hours keeping this daycare in working order without any help, not because you’re programmed to but because you love doing it. That kind of emotion isn’t something you can just replicate. The level of humanity I see in you and Moon far surpasses most of actual humanity that exists on this Earth today.

“If some kid’s abusive bitch of a mother wants to come in and call you a worthless machine because her kid love you far more than her, you take any word that comes out of her mouth with a fucking grain of salt. That’s her problem to work through, not yours. She doesn’t see what you do here. She obviously doesn’t see what you do for her own kid every single day she’s off getting drunk.

“What matters is what those who actually care about you think. The kids love you. Both of you. They were freaking out the day you guys went to maintenance, some actually started crying. Made all those Get Well cards for you two, remember? I highly doubt Fazbear is going to decommission one of their most beloved animatronics from one drunk lady’s comment. They’d have hell to pay.” You bring him forward, just enough to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Hell that I would raise for you.”

Sun falls forwards slightly, head hitting your chest as he pulls you close again. He moves you to the side just slightly, throwing a leg under you so you’re no longer resting on your knees. You throw an arm over his shoulder as he begins to rock the both of you, your other hand coming up to the back of his faceplate to hold him. It's another moment before either of you speak.

You can hear Sun mumble something, but whatever was said is buried in the sound of his fans buzzing on overdrive. You hum in question as you trace patterns aimlessly on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he says again, “Moon says it too.” You feel more than see when his rays shrink slightly into his faceplate, “I’m sorry.”

You snort, “Hey, what did I just say? No more of that. It’s okay.”

“It’s really not.” He pulls back from you, eyes looking down instead of towards you. “That was really childish on my part. Parents complain all the time. That shouldn’t have affected me that much.”

You shush him, placing a hand over his mouth despite knowing that wasn’t going to do much. It still had the desired outcome of shutting him up. “Sun, did you listen to anything I just said?” He nodded, and you quickly continued before he started up again. “I didn’t explicitly say it, but everything I just explained can also be used to say that both you and Moon are extremely overworked.” You give a huff as you roll your eyes, “Give an AI sentience and then make them work until the break. Typical Fazbear right there.”

You feel the speaker behind Sun’s faceplate vibrate as he speaks up, “But we were built to work-”

There’s an audible smack as you facepalm. “Oh my god, I spill my guts out trying to calm you down and you listened to none of it,” you groan. You grab his chin to tilt his face towards yours, “Sunny, honey, it doesn’t matter that it was just one parent telling you something you’ve already heard and gotten over before. You may have been built to work tirelessly but you literally just said you weren’t built to handle this kind of work. Plus, I don’t think Fazbear takes into account that they build living beings. Straw on the camel’s back and all that. You and Moon have one too many things going on up in that pretty little head right now. It couldn’t handle the additional yelling and triggered all your pent up emotions. It’s normal. Happens to me too. Don’t apologize for simply being alive.”

You drop your hand as you finish, watching as Sun blinks at you. His rays flex in and out in no particular pattern, something you’ve realized means he’s having an internal conversation. He finally seems to come back into focus after a moment, simply staring before moving a hand to gently cup your cheek. You laugh slightly as his hand covers the right side of your head but lean into it. He looks like he wants to smile, but whatever he’s thinking is obviously weighing on him. “You. . .really see us as people.”

You can't quite tell if it was a statement or a question, but you nod all the same. A confused look crossed your face, “I mean, yeah? You may be made of metal and silicone, and held together by desperation and glitter glue since the mechanics can’t do their job for shit, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have just as much intelligence and emotion as any human. Probably more, not gonna lie. I’ve seen Moon hack into things he really shouldn’t more times than I would like to admit. You have this unbelievable talent to read a person’s body language from across the room and change the mood of the whole room to fit their needs.

“And like I mentioned earlier, you two don’t half ass anything. When you give, you do so with your whole being. Simple machines don’t have things like love and trust. You two are the definition of it.”

You could feel as Sun ran his thumb across your cheek as you spoke. As you looked back up at him, you were greeted with a soft look. Sun’s rays slowly pinwheeled around his head as he smiled at you. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back as he pulled you forward. Your breath caught suddenly, your heart beat suddenly too obvious inside you.

He seemed to second guess himself at the last second, or maybe you had simply read too much into that act. Hugging you close, Sun reciprocated your earlier forehead kiss. “Thank you,” he mumbled softly.