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obsessive-ego · 3 years

Text

A late night hand nsft

Musical beetlejuice x reader

You give beej a handjob in your sleep

Reader has a vagina

Warning dubious consent, voyeurism, masturbation, mutual masturbation kinda

Shout out to the anon that told me to do this

Its been a full week of beetlejuice being underfoot and in your personal space, from the moment youd wake up, and left for work, to when you got home again, not that you minded at all, in fact you adored the demon, hell, you were head over heels for the ghoul, not that you had the balls to say it.

But this whole week he's been up on you, clinging to you, nuzzling his scratch beard into your neck, pinching your rear, poking at you, he just couldnt keep his hands off, not that you minded, though you did scold him for getting too friendly with your bum, you two even slept together and the man was a cuddler. All this physical attention wasnt usually an issue, you could normally deal with this pent up frustration and sexual neediness during some alone time with some less then wholesome thoughts of the bastard who made you feel that way to begin with.

But not this time, beetlejuice just wouldnt give you the time of day, normally he would duck out and scare the neighbors or lydia would summon him away, but lydia was off on a family vacation or something, and beej just wasnt in the mood to be a pest to anyone but you.

You envied the ghoul, his ability to just leave and do whatever he wanted, hell for all you know the bastard could be jerking off on the roof, shooting his load over the edge and watching it splat on the sidewalk, honestly you wouldnt put it past him, you couldnt help but snicker at that image, but your mirth was cut short when a familiar gravelly voice grabs your attention.

"What's so funny?"

"Ah, just remembered a stupid tiktok I saw the other day, dont worry about" you shrug

The ghoul grunts, alittle annoyed you wont elaborate on the joke, but his attention returns to the film the two of you were watching, he was watching, you were too busy in your own head.

It was the regular movie night the two of you shared, you would order pizza, beetlejuice would scare the piss out of the poor delivery guy, and the two of you would stay up till the early morning watching B list horror, all the while the demon had an arm around your shoulders pulling you into his side, he would claim he did it cuz he was cold and you were warm, and under normal circumstances you didnt mind, but now? You felt like you were gonna die, you swore the demon could hear your heart pounding away, or feel the warmth from your face, god couldnt tell you were in desperate need to deal with your pent up frustrations could he? Hell you wanted the ghoul to absolutely rail you on the couch, and you're pretty sure he'd do it if youd asked, but you werent that type of person, nor did you want friends with benefits relationship with beetlejuice, if anything you wanted something more romantic, as cheesy as that sounds, a loving relationship with a literal demon, I mean the two of you DO get along nicely, so maybe it wasnt too out of the question?

You were so busy in your on head freaking out you didnt hear beetlejuice trying to get your attention.

With a poke on the cheek you yelp in surprise

"You sick or something?" He smirked, amused by your cry

"Yeah, feeling alittle dizzy" you mumble avoiding the ghoul's eyes, he was leaning into now, his face way too close to yours, he had no idea what personal space even was, and you were in no state to deal with his clingyness unless you wanted to cum your pants infront of a jackass who'll never let you forget it.

"I think I'm gonna head to bed early" you shift away from the demon and up off the couch, he huffs in annoyance

"Really babes? You got the day off tomorrow, how bout you relax here with me, I dont mind if you doze off on me~, I'll keep ya nice and cozy all night~" he purrs, eyeing you up and down, if you werent wet earlier you were sure as fuck were now, you swallow the lump in your throat and squeeze your legs together and squeak out a soft "no thanks, I think sleeping in my bed would be ideal, I dont want to make you sick or anything, I mean If i am sick, night" you babbled as you scurried to your room.

With the closing of the door you were home safe in your room, not safe enough to jerk away these annoying pent up sexual feelings, yes you could be quite, but beetlejuice was nosy and had the nasty habbit of appearing when you least wanted him to, fantasies of him walking in on you then helping you finish is one thing, but in reality? Its terrifying.

You can stare at yourself in your bedroom mirror and snear "horny dumbass" you mumble as you plug your phone into its charger and slip in bed hoping tomorrow these frustrations would vanish.

Beetlejuice stifled a laugh at your exit, one of his favourite things about you was that you were a terrible liar, he could read you like an open book, that's how he found out you liked him and not just in a sexy way, he saw how much you liked him as a person, even though he wasnt one, you treated him with genuine kindness and wanted him around, not strings attached, that in itself was rare, a pretty little breather like you having the hots for a smelly creepy old guy of a corpse? One in a million, and he sure as hell wasnt gonna let it go.

He knew you liked him, and yes he's seen you masturbate more then he's willing to admit, but seeing you so turned on you looked like you were gonna explode? That was new, and he'd be lying if he wasnt a tad turned on by it at all.

Let's be honest beetlejuice knew he was winding you up all week, he wanted to see you're cute flustered expression, but soaking your panties? That was a bonus, he didnt think youd get so hot under the collar by his games, he was actually quite flattered that he had that level of effect on you.

The ghoul quietly floats over to your bedroom, pressing an ear against the door, nothing, he frowns, no sounds of soft panting, or the muffled buzz of your little vibrator, nothing. Maybe he was asking for too much, hoping youd have the guts to jerk one out while his presence was known, but no, no little peep show tonight.

As much as the demon would love to slip into bed with you and catch some Zs, it was still too early to do so, you'd still be awake, and in your current state would be pretty jumpy, he floats back over to the couch to wait it out, despite his creepy nature beetlejuice occasionally had these moments of respecting you and your feelings, it was odd, maybe the maitlands were rubbing off on him.

Beetlejuice spent most of this time waiting for you to doze off just staring at the ceiling as he reclined on the couch, he pulls a clock out from his jacket and gives a small smirk, enough time as finally pasted for you to be out and for him to slink in.

The ghoul fazes his way through your bedroom door, seeing you fast asleep, he smiles, floating towards the edge of the bed and with the snap of his finger his striped suit vanishes leaving behind nothing but a pair of stripe boxers.

Beetlejuice gently pulls aside the covers to reveal your sleeping form, you were wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt, and with further inspection a pair of boxers, that were hidden by the shirt.

The ghoul slips in beside you and sighs at the welcoming of your warmth, the ghoul pulls you close being ever so gentle, trying not to wake you. The demon settles on the position of you using his soft chest as a pillow, your body pressed up against his side, and an arm around your shoulder with his hand on your upper back.

Beetlejuice let's out a soft sigh, this, this was nice, the feeling of warmth from your living body against his cold one, you were so soft, and warm, and alive, and you were all his, you just didn't know it yet. The ghoul couldnt help himself, you made him feel so wanted for nothing, of course he was going to fall for you, soon he'll get you to confess your feelings to him and then things will be perfect, but until that day, the demon was fine to snuggle with you, and get satisfaction from you in anyway he could.

His musings of your future love life was cut short with a soft whisper, it was unintelligible, but it was from you.

The ghoul stifled a laugh, you were talking in your sleep again, something you did often, but rarely was the demon able to make out what you were saying.

"What's up sweets? You okay?" He chuckled, hand running up and down your back

You mumble in response

"Oh, what's that? You need mr beebleboose to help you out?"

You hum

"You need me to rub your clothed vagina? Oh, y/n you naughty minx, is it because your so pent up from my little game of teasing-"

The ghoul's mirth was cut short when he felt the soft touch of a warm hand against his clothed dick.

"Whoa, babes, y/n ah-"

At first beetlejuice could have mistaken the first stroke as a slip of the hand, but another? You were gently rubbing his crotch in your sleep.

The ghoul quickly changes his hue to electric pink, and bites his knuckles to try and stop from moaning out as your warm hand continously brushes clumsily against his cock, now fully erect, it was embarrassing how quick the ghoul's meat rose to your touch alone.

"Sugar, you're not playing fair" he groans before bucking into your touch, this wasnt fair, you're dead asleep and playing him like a goddamn fiddle, was this karma? Was this his punishment for making you hot under the collar? I mean as far as punishments go, it could have been worse, but having you touch him in such a way, and not being able to do damn thing about it? Still drove the demon nuts, god slash satan he wanted to wake and rail you, though he knew you would die of embarrassment if you found out what you did to him in your sleep, so here beetlejuice was, stuck between a tock and a hard place.

"Bee..."

The noise nearly stopped the demon's heart, if it was still pumping, beetlejuice glances away from the ceiling over to you, which thank God, you were still asleep, just rambling again.

The ghoul lets out a soft sigh of relief before you interrupt

"Faster?"

The demon nearly dropped his jaw at what you uttered, though he clenched it back shut when he felt your soft hand squeeze his cock through his boxers.

"Harder?" You mumble

"Y/n please" he whines softly "fine, you win babes" he ghoul groans before begrudging brushing your hand away and pulling his painfully hard cock out of his boxers, the ghoul gently guides your eager hand back to his desperate meat, which you gently take hold of, the demon stifles a moan at the rush of warmth of your soft hand against his hard cool cock. Beetlejuice slowly begins to guide your hand up and down his shaft, all while he pants and and moans, hips trying their best not to buck too hard and wake you.

"Oh y/n, theres nothing like doing the stranger, especially if you already know them huh?" He chuckles between pants

"You like that?" You mumble in a whisper

"God slash satan yes" the demon whines, he wanted this for so long, he would have preferred you be awake, but he wasnt going to punch a gift horse in the mouth.

His hand guiding your own began to pick up pace, running up and down his shaft, stopping at the base ever so often to give it a light squeeze.

"Is this good?" You sighed

"Sugar you have no idea" been groaned biting on his knuckles

As good as beetlejuice was at edging he knew he wasnt gonna last long, the warmth and softness of your hand was gonna be the second death of him.

He was in heaven, or as close as a born dead demon was gonna get, but he was brought back quickly to reality when movement beside him.

The smallest squeak of movement from the mattress followed by a soft whine from you, if the ghoul's heart was still pumping it would have stopped by now.

This was it, he was done for, you were gonna see his dirty transgression and banish him forever.

Seconds pass and there was nothing, no screaming, nothing.

Beetlejuice let's out a sigh before returning to guiding your hand up and down his desperate erection.

But you move you body again, a soft bump against the ghoul's side, and another bump, then another, followed by a soft whine from you.

Were you trying to get off?

The demon smiles and stifles a laugh, here he was tending to himself while his sweet little y/n was desperate for a release of their own, what kind of lover would he be if he was to leave his favourite breather hanging?

Beetlejuice moves his free hand from your back, and softly slides it between yours and his bodies, slipping it gently between your legs, where it was greeted with a great warmth. His cool fingers gently press against your clothed sex, he could feel you were already wet, you've been hot under the collar all week due to his teasing, the demon couldnt help but smile at how this was all his doing, with another press against your clothed folds, you let out a soft whine and gently buck up against his hand.

"Bee" you whimper

"Y/n" he sighs, returning his other hand into guiding yours up and down his leaking cock.

Many a nights has beetlejuice dreamed if this exact situation, although in his fantasy you were awake, but this was good too.

"Want me to make a mess honey?" You whined

At this point the ghoul was close to his limit, it was if you could read his mind "oh yeah baby, help daddy make a mess" he groaned using your hand at a more brutal pace, chasing his own orgasm.

"Fuck y/n, that's it, that's it doll, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum all over your pretty hand baby" the ghoul babbled before finally cumming, his ectoplasm splattering all over your hand and the sheets that hid his dirty deed from view, moving you hand away from his now spent cock.

Beetlejuice takes a moment to bask in the after glow, before finally coming down from his sexual high to help you finish.

His attention now, 100% on you, a slight increase in pressure on your crotch as he rubbed, you whined and bucked into his hand, mumbling his name.

Beetlejuice took this opportunity to be a tad more bold, slipping a finger up the pant leg of your boxers and into your soaked vagina, he shivers at the new sensation, warm, wet, alive.

He slowly begins to pump his finger in and out, while his thumb eagerly runs at the clit.

It didnt take long for you to finish ether, due to how tightly wound you already were.

"That's it doll, cum all over my hand, eye for an eye right?" He chuckles

With a gasp and a few messy movements from you hips you cum, coding the demon's hand in your juices.

You slowly stop your thrashing and you panting dies down to soft breathing.

"Was it good for you too?" The ghoul snorts removing his hand from your crotch and bringing it to his mouth, sucking the lucky finger that explored your entrance.

Electricity leaving his hair, but remining pink, content in his late night activities, he snaps his fingers and his cum covering your hand and sheets vanish, as nice a thought was to have you sleep in that mess, youd be furious, and he couldnt have you finding him out just yet.

"Good night y/n" he sighs giving your forehead a soft kiss before dozing off.

Bonus

You woke up groping around for your phone, 10am, you huff, you start to sit up before being yanked back down, into the arms of the demon who snuck into you bed again.

"Wheres the fore babes? It's your day off, come play with old mr beebleboose~" the familiar coo of the undead bastard you welcome into your heart graced your ears.

"Morning beetlejuice" you sigh

"Sleep well doll? Feeling better, you sure were hot last night~" he teased giving your cheek a pinch

"Yeah, I am feeling better..." you trailed off, clearly amazed that you really DID sleep off those frustrations "werid dreams though.." you mumbled

Beej immediately perked up at that "oh~" he leans in nuzzling his face against yours "care to elaborate babes?" This was gonna be good, you were gonna be a cute flustered mess again.

You snort "dont get too excited there Bee, it's not like that, I was standing in the living room shaking a can of pop" you say flatly giving a jerk off type of movement with your hand, the ghoul's eyes grow wide at the gesture, tips of his hair turning pink "you were there, sitting infront of me, I tried to talk to you, but you didnt respond, I just kept shaking the can, till my arm hurt, then I opened it pointed directly at my face, spraying pop all over myself, then the rest is kinda fuzzy..." you trail off knitting your eyebrows together ad if you were trying to remember.

The demon let out a loud cackle causing you to flinch

"Oh babes, guess that dream helped you release all that tension huh?"

Your face burns when It clicks, rubbing you legs together and feeling the familiar feeling of a recent masterbation session, you didnt cum in your sleep did you? God, let's just hope beetlejuice wasnt awake when it happened...

#beetlejuice x reader #muscial beetlejuice x reader #nsft

230 notes · View notes

studioxlii · 3 years

Note

18 and Junhee pls!! Xx

"to be fully seen by somebody, then, be loved anyhow is a human offering that can border on miraculous."

proof read: kinda

warnings: none

note(s): the format might be garbage, im mobile.

Love is a weird thing but so are the conditions that come with it; the limits that people decide need to be in place. You understood boundaries or not wanting to take too many steps before you knew the relationship would hold but some things never sat right with you. It took a few years but it wasn't until you overheard some of your project group talking that it finally hit you; most people you knew didn't want to date their best friends for two reasons.

1. It could ruin their friendship. This reason was obvious and of course you understood.

2. They'd seen way too much.

You remember hearing those words and your head lifting, confused and wondering what that could even mean. When you were in a relationship that would eventually progress, weren't they just going to see those things anyway? You never could let that thought go, not once you decided that would only make it better; it would make a relationship stronger. Well, in your eyes.

Dating was something that seemed to come easier to you before those thoughts started polluting your mind; no one seemed to understand or see you in a way you really wanted. The ideal person for you was someone who saw everything; the bad days, the good days and the maybe okay but not so great days. It was really starting to mess with you. By not wanting to date certain friends, were you restricting yourself from the relationship you really wanted?

Only one person, one friend, knew you better than you knew yourself, you were positive of that. Your best friend of nine years, Junhee, had probably been through almost every bad thing possible in life with you. You began recalling all the situations you'd been in with each other that were memorable; the things you wouldn't have faced with anyone else because you didn't want anyone else to see.

'Do you remember when you got your belly button pierced?'

And that's when it began.

The question came out of nowhere, breaking the silence of your apartment and leaving Junhee to look up from his book confused and blinking. 'Uh.. yes?' His response came out slow, hesitant like he was missing some weird in-between the lines meaning of the question.

Your head tilted, finally looking over at him. 'Do you remember the way you squeezed my hand to the point it was purple because it hurt so bad you nearly passed out?'

His features flushed at the ridiculous memory being forced back into his head. 'You mean the same day you had to cling to me, crying because your first tattoo felt like your leg was being seared off?'

You hated crying in front of people for any reason but you couldn't go alone; you'd never go alone for something like that. You just nodded in response before returning to your own book, continuing to read like you hadn't brought the subject up at all.

Your first date after you began recalling things and getting far too deep in what could only be sentimental thoughts went okay. A friend of your friend's, Sehyoon, who was an art major and knew of you but didn't know you; he'd never really integrated himself into the small friend circle on campus but Byeongkwan spoke highly of him.

He was sweet; a gentleman. Pretty much anything you could really ask for but you noticed little things; minute things that didn't even matter. You felt like you were being unreasonable or judgmental despite only picking out things that didn't match. Didn't match what, exactly?

He wasn't Junhee.

The realization had you suddenly shooting up from your seat, interrupting the poor male's answer to your question about his major and spilling out several apologies as you even fought to put money down for your own food. It took quite a few more 'I'm really sorry's before you were speeding out of the small restaurant; you'd make sure to call him later.

You found yourself in the only place that made sense: banging hard on the door of the RA for your building, hardly caring if you disturbed anyone else.

'What?' was the greeting you received from a very frustrated Donghun, wanting nothing more than to be left alone again. And yes, you called each other your friend.

'We have a really, really big problem.'

Being a mutual friend and despite not wanting to get involved in anyone's "drama", he spent two hours talking you out of it, down from it and against it, reminding you just why your newfound feelings for your best friend were a problem. He even reminded you of your comment, three years ago, about how you could never possibly like Junhee; how he remembered that and you didn't, you didn't care to ask.

You returned home a wreck, tired and wanting to burn your own emotions. Were you really uncovering some unconsciously buried feelings or did you just like the fact that he /saw/ you? He'd seen you nearly on your deathbed sick.

He'd seen you living in a depression nest for two weeks, barely able to get out a bed and eating nothing but honey buns and cereal.

He'd seen you grieve family members and pets; seen you walk into the rain and scream at the top of your lungs because of how lost in despair you'd been.

He'd seen you drunk and stupid; he'd seen you the night after a one night stand and hungover to the point you wanted to fight the sun.

He'd sat by you absolutely throwing your guts up.

He had seen every single side of you and you'd seen the same from him but it only started to stack further and further.

You knew his favorite songs because God forbid he only have one. You knew his favorite color, favorite food and his weird retirement plan that involved a tiny petting zoo of his own that he refused to just call a farm. Your pins for everything were each other's birthdates and he was the only other name on your bank account. Why?

Staring down at the menu you'd seen over a hundred times, you were sure, you couldn't decide on just what sounded good and part of you just wanted everything. Those moments staring at words that started to blur, you noticed Junhee hadn't touched his menu and kept shifting around, visibly uncomfortable for reasons you couldn't possible figure out.

'It's unlike you to not be going off about the food here.. or already having ordered your favorite drink that, I recall, you said you'd die without if you didn't have it every time you came here,' you began, closing the menu and setting it down with narrowed eyes, 'what's going on?'

'It's stupid. Just.. order and get some food, I'll probably just eat later. I'm not really hungry.'

That was a bold faced lie and you knew it, the concern growing. 'And, what's the oh-so-stupid reason, exactly?'

It took him a minute, shifting more and acting like a child who had gotten in trouble. 'I, uh.. I can't really..' he gestured around, lips pursed and growing even more upset by the second, you could tell by the way he was trying to stop himself from frowning. 'Can't really afford it.' You were college students, it wasn't the world's biggest secret if you couldn't afford something.

'Do you really think I'm just going to eat in front of you?' You snorted, avoiding any comment that would further his being upset over the situation, 'Don't worry about it and order, okay?'

Financial struggles were no quiet matter between the two of you and never had been since you started school. Junhee lived off campus in an apartment with two shitty roommates, a terrible part time job and parents that pretty much didn't care if he perished on the side of the street somewhere. You, on the other hand, which you didn't like bringing up, were doing fine but only because your parents dropped something of an 'allowance' into your account for foods and necessities.

You ignored his attempt to argue and told him if he didn't order something, you were going to do it for him; he shut up.

The next day, you took a trip to the bank.

You could feel eyes on you as you splayed across the couch, staring at the ceiling and contemplating life and all of it's annoyances. No question left you but even if you wanted to say something, you were cut off.

'So, are you going to tell me what's going on? For the past.. three weeks? You've been asking me all sorts of weird stuff,' Junhee inquired, frowning thoughtfully, 'Are you testing me or something? Trust me, yes, I remember every single second I've spent with you. I remember every word you've said, the names of every guy you've been with and the ones I'd like to fight. I remember every birthday and gift I've given you and the ones you've given me. Yes, I remember your favorite things and everything so, what's the deal?'

It sounded sentimental at first but then you noticed that all too familiar waiver in his voice and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hands fiddling with the chain bracelet that had adorned his wrist for five years; he wanted to cry. A crying Junhee was something no one ever wanted on your hands and you briefly recalled a phone call from a very panicked Byeongkwan because of just that but you were letting your thoughts get off topic.

'I think I'm in love with you.'

'If you don't want to be fri-'

You were both cut off as your head turned to finally look at him, soaking in the unreadable expression on his features when someone busted through the door; 'Look!'

Both of you looked towards your two friends that invited themselves into your door, one holding a new cat and the other looking just as pleased with the announcement but it gradually dropped. 'Shit, did we interrupt something?' Of course, you always knew when you finally and truly confessed to someone that it would be Byeongkwan who ruined the whole thing; you used it as an escape, though, reminding yourself of what the confession could do to your friendship.

'New minion, I see,' you chimed, sitting up and ignoring the question, both of them, as you rose to greet Donghun's new pet. You were ignorant to the looks shared between the three boys and you were happy about that.

Now, you just had to avoid it ever coming up again until it was forgotten.

Junhee, however, didn't want that to happen.

After about an hour of chitchatting and ignoring the gaze of your best friend, you excused yourself under the excuse of having a meetup for a class, despite it being your dorm, and managed to weasel your way out. There was really nowhere to go, no one to talk to and you surely didn't have any plans for the next week; you ended up at the café on campus. It was quiet and filled mostly with a few students doing work and the two members of staff behind the counter, one eventually joining you at the table. He didn't say anything, waited for you to stop your dramatic Disney scene and acknowledge him.

'Would you date me, Yu?'

Taken a bit off guard, he ended up snorting. 'I can't tell if this is a trap or you want the genuine answer,' he replied, crossing his arms atop the table, 'but, on the hand that it's serious.. probably. I mean, I definitely wouldn't turn you down. We've known each other for a few years, hang out on a regular basis.. get along and have a lot of similar interests. So, yeah.'

The answer made your lips draw into a deep frown and you tapped your fingers against the cup, soaking up every word. 'Even though we're friends? What if we broke up?'

A soft 'ah' came from him as he realized what was really going on and he shrugged, thinking it over for a minute or two. 'We're both adults and I don't believe either of us would do something so that the breakup would be something that could ruin our friendship. I understand it would be like.. friends then it being intimate then back to friends, but I think both of us are mature enough to deal with that and not let it bother us too much.' He spoke like he'd been through it several times and in reality, it had only been once, a small fling with a mutual friend but they still seemed pretty okay. 'Is this about Jun?'

'Does everyone know?' You groaned out, releasing the cup to lean back and rub your hands over your face in defeat, 'I.. I told him I think I love him then Kwan and Donghun showed up and I bailed because now I don't actually want to face him or admit to ever actually saying it. I do! I do love him! I don't.. I don't want to lose him, you know?'

You could see the way the latter looked at you, sympathetic and calculating what words wouldn't just stress you out further. 'Look.. I know you don't want to hear it from me or anyone else for that matter because you want to keep saying it'll ruin your friendship when in reality, you don't like the idea that you could hurt each other, I was the same way with Donghun, so I understand.. but, you should really see all this from an outsider's point of view. Junhee looks at you like you hung the moon and you look at him like he painted the stars; yes, it's been like that since I've met you and a reminder, it's been years. I don't know what took you so long to realize it or if you've just avoided it this whole time but anyone would have to be blind not to see it. Now,' he sighed deeply as he finished and straightened, 'I think you should probably go and talk to him about it considering you just confessed then ditched but it's your choice. I don't think you have anything to worry about.. for either of you. You're the most loyal person I know, so I have no doubt you'd ever hurt him in a way that would ruin you guys and he can barely swat at a fly or sit still through hearing thunder, you think he's going to do something? Regardless.. one of these days, soon, you'll have to face it and I really hope you don't go into it with the cliché reason of your friendship being ruined.'

The words sank in slow and you wanted nothing but to cry your eyes out because he was right; he always was and you hated it. It took a while for you to speak and he seemed okay with that, briefly leaving you to fill a couple orders before returning. 'I know you're leaving for break tomorrow.. tell him before then.' Those were his last words before he bid you good luck and a good night, heading back to his own dorm, most likely to call Donghun now that he'd projected just a little bit.

Irrationality was a word that would be in your character description box and the word stupid could very well be right next to it because when you got home, you packed your bag and decided to leave early, not bothering to let any of your friends know. You needed time and you were being selfish, so selfish to the point you thought maybe he'd just hate you when you got back.

Oh boy were you wrong.

Two days into being back home and confiding in your mother who promptly smacked you upside the back of the head, you found yourself sitting on the porch and moping, split between what to do. You suspected the boys were a bit angry with you when you noticed the ample amount of texts, voicemails, social messages and phone calls that had gone ignored; you caught a glimpse of the absolute book Yuchan took the time to send you, leaving you kind of scared to even open it. It didn't take long for the guilt to set in but you chose to wait until you were back on campus to deal with it.

Or at least, that was your plan.

'So, I know you've never been a fan of confrontation but.. you've never been the type to run away.'

The sudden voice startled you as you hadn't even noticed anyone pull up and of course, upon looking up, you were met with the face you were trying to avoid the most. Junhee stood at the end of the sidewalk looking pitiful and shifting his weight in a nervous manner. You didn't bother trying to speak, not knowing what to say but you did wait for the rant, the berating that you deserved; that wasn't who he was though.

He even stayed quiet for a minute or two, making his way closer to sit on the steps, looking up towards your figure. 'Did you mean it?'

You could have answered right away, poured your heart out and let out the tears you'd been holding in since the moment you left. Instead, you stayed quiet and pulled your knees closer to your chest, not trusting your own voice. He didn't relent though, reaching out to lightly nudge your knee.

'That's all I need to know.. did you mean it? If.. if you didn't I can just leave and we don't have to bother with it again.'

'And, if I did..?' Finally finding your voice, you looked over to him, chewing hard on your lower tier, nervous and kind of wanting to throw up.

You could see him thinking it over before a faint smile showed up. 'I'd most likely cry.. but I'm going to cry either way,' he began, shrugging his shoulders while moving up to sit next to you, 'I'd also tell you that I love you, too and I've been trying to tell you that for years now.'

The confession made your heart flutter, your skin burn and the butterflies being kept back burst in delight in your gut. 'Even.. after everything we've been through? Everything you've seen..?'

Junhee nodded. 'Mhm. I'd go through it all again and what do you mean? I've seen nothing but you.'

#fairieswritings #a.c.e #junhee #clicheprompts #a.c.e scenarios #a.c.e reactions #a.c.e x reader #a.c.e imagines #a.c.e drabbles #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop drabbles #kpop reactions #kpop imagines

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kookiebunnii · 4 years

Text

d4u || fix his broken heart

mar. 2018. i realized today that i can’t always make jungkook happy. he has his own struggles too, and perhaps as a friend i can only ever stay beside him when he’s heartbroken. yet, i’m unsatisfied with that realization. i wish i could do more for him.

pairing: bestfriend!jungkook x reader

genre: angst

word count: 1.7k

warnings: mayhaps you use a bad word 👀

The first time you realized you loved him was also the first time you ever saw him cry.

Jungkook liked to be your resident tough guy. He always forced you to watch horror movies with him late at night simply because he liked remaining unperturbed as you shook in terror, him laughing whenever you covered your eyes in anticipation for the jumpscare as soon as the music cuts out. You knew well enough after years of this torture that dolls, children, and cheap housing signaled big demon energy. However, despite sitting through more horror flicks than the average person, you still keep your lamp light on for a good three nights afterwards—just in case. Jungkook loved teasing you with this information, but you were more concerned about the possibility that your best friend-turned-roommate was a demon himself. How else would he be able to watch nightmarish Annabelle movies without even flinching?

As hard-working and aspiring as he is, he also never breaks down when he misses a goal he’s set for himself. You’ve seen him shattered for underperforming in a class he was confident in, angry for not winning an important game on the university’s competitive e-sports team, and even depressed for a whole week after the audio file for one of his song covers vanished.

Not once did he shed tears.

Imagine your surprise then, when you find him sitting on the couch one afternoon with red-rimmed eyes and two empty beer cans on the table.

You don’t say anything at first. Gritting your teeth in anticipation of the unknown, you head into your room as if it were a regular day, hanging your tote bag on a hook near the door. Robotically, you wash your hands and tie up your hair in the bathroom. When you finish, you head back out to the living room again to confront him.

When you pick up the half-empty can hanging lifelessly in his hand, he doesn’t even look at you. Even when you chug down the remaining drink and chuck it in the recycling bin, he doesn’t acknowledge you. It’s only when you sit by his side, leaning your head against his shoulder to join him in staring at the wall, do the first words fall from his lips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, considering the light taste of beer that lingers there. Beer wasn’t your thing, but you had to stop him from drinking so much.

“No. You’ll tell me when you’re ready,” you admit, pressing your cheek deeper into his oddly comfortable shoulder-- a given due to how diligently he works out recently. You can’t remember the last time you were this close to him, with the smell of his detergent so tantalizingly perceptible. It’s familiar in the way that you recognize it immediately as him, but foreign in that it’s rarely this upfront against your senses. He’s radiantly warm, but his frame is shaking as he tries to hold in his cold sadness.

With a shaky breath, he fiddles with the zipper of his windbreaker for a few seconds before choking, “Yuna’s been cheating on me.”

Eyes wide, the words catch in your throat. It almost feels as if your heart has fallen to the pit of your stomach at his confession. Cycling through confusion, anger, and hurt, all you can do is swallow thickly to counter the tightness growing in your throat. You wanted to cry, yet you felt selfish for wanting to do so. The pain you felt probably paled in comparison to what Jungkook’s experiencing. You knew that she was his first love, and when the kid loved he loved.

A cold laugh expels out of your mouth in response to the absurdity of it all, and suddenly everything made sense. Of course the only way such a happy-go-lucky boy can be reduced to a tearful shell of himself is from the inside—from someone he trusted who ruined him. You think you hate Yuna, but you hate yourself more for being unable to do anything for him.

“Guk, that’s her fucking loss then.”

The words fall from your lips, heavy and full of spite. They taste bitter, and suddenly you wish you hadn’t finished that beer. Everything felt so wrong, the boy who deserved the world had his heart trampled on and you were stuck as the girl who couldn’t mend it for him. When he finally lets the dam break and begins crying again, the small sobs that wrack his chest almost splinter you in two. He tries to hide his face from you, and you instinctively reach out towards him. You hold him around his waist as he cries, your face buried in his left shoulder. Unwilling to speak further, you do the only thing you know how to. You wait for him.

It’s late in the evening when Jungkook finally talks to you again. He seems exhausted, his cheek pressing against the top of your head in defeat. With your chin perched on his shoulder, you bite your lip in contemplation. Plans form in your head, but you don’t ask for Jungkook’s input on them. You needed Yuna to know how disgustingly vile she was for choosing this avenue instead of simply ending things with him, because you were sure as hell Jungkook didn’t make it clear for her.

“Y/N?” his soft inquiry breaks you out of your thoughts.

Doing a little drumroll on his thigh with your pointer fingers, you hum in response, “Yeah?”

“Do you think she loved me?”

The question catches you off-guard. Yuna had been his first girlfriend, and he spent a lot more time away from the apartment after meeting her. You still saw him frequently enough, and from your experiences with her she genuinely appeared to enjoy Jungkook’s company. She did occasionally give him a hard time for living with you, but other than that the two of you respected the other as important figures of Jungkook’s life.

“She did. She loved you,” you admitted. Perhaps her love paled in comparison to the natural, compassionate affection he gave her, but you knew well-enough that anyone could tell the two had shared a mutual affinity for the other. You wonder if your answer was the one he wanted.

He seems to mull over this idea, his fingers wearing at a loose thread on the rips of his jeans. As he does this, you brush some of his hair away from his forehead. A few strands were stuck to his forehead dejectedly. His eyes are puffy with the amount of crying he’d done today and it takes you an extraordinary amount of willpower not to find Yuna and give her a piece of your mind then and there.

“I’m not okay,” he admits, and you can’t help but lift up his face to look at you directly.

“You don’t have to be.”

That night, he doesn’t want to sleep alone. He tugs at your wrist with an unspoken question and you knew you would stay with him until he could fall asleep. That was the type of relationship you held with him, knowing what the other needed before having to ask.

As you tuck him in bed, you turn off the lights except for a single desk lamp near his computer on the lowest brightness setting. You open the textbook for your Introduction to Marketing class and begin to read the latest chapter. Occasionally, you glance over at Jungkook to see how he’s faring. Thirty minutes pass and he’s still staring at the same spot on the ceiling.

“Can’t sleep?” you set your book down and ease off his gaming chair. Doing a few stretches as you approach the side of his bed, you plop down on the corner of the mattress and pinch his nose.

He grabs your hand off his nose and pulls you closer to him. Surprised but not uncomfortable, you let him guide your arm across his chest in an awkward half-hug. A dejected sigh comes from the poor boy, and you change your position to hold him better. You’re still laying atop his blankets, but you lie on your side and begin running your fingers through the locks of hair closest to you. He finally closes his eyes at your touch, and you wish you could smooth out the frowning corners of his lips.

Maybe the two of you were never actively aware of it, or even considered telling the other you loved them, but in that moment the words blossomed across your tongue. You wanted him to know that you loved him after all these years of watching him grow from a mischievous boy to a responsible man. You wanted him to know that it wasn’t his fault—that he couldn’t have done anything different to change the outcome. You wanted him to know that he deserved so much more than this.

You couldn’t say it though. Why couldn’t you say it?

In the midst of your thoughts, you fingers had stopped their ministrations in his hair. Jungkook takes note of this and turns to look you in the eyes. His cheeks are splotchy, the rims of his overworked eyes swollen from the abuse they’ve endured today. Even then, you couldn’t say those words.

“Thank you Y/N,” he gives you a smile he can barely muster, and you know he’s doing it to cheer you up.

You close your own eyes so you don’t have to look at his face any longer. It made you feel utterly useless and weak with swirling emotions you couldn’t pinpoint. It confused you and you hated feeling out of control.

If he kept caring for you, even while he suffered, you felt like you would say something…do something you shouldn’t.

You slip your hand under the blankets to grab his. When he gives your hand a squeeze, you know he believes that you’re doing this to comfort him. Instead, you know that you’re being selfish, holding onto him to ground yourself from doing something you couldn’t be responsible for.

Damn, you really are a fool.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

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awashsquid · 5 years

Text

This is my first Official Commission, woo hoo! (Link to commission me in my header, if you’re curious.) This was sponsored by @sittingoverheredreaming and based on the prompt “Michiru - A reason to smile.” It clocks in just under 2800 words. Like it? Please comment, reblog, and/or thank her for commissioning me!

“Michiru - Michi, it’s time to wake up.”

The words were tender, breath lightly caressing her face as soft lips ghosted at her cheek. She could feel the faintest breeze stirring her eyelashes, her eyelids flickering, trying to stay shut and ignore the waking world. She weakly fought to keep them closed, to keep staring into the blissful blackness that sleep had afforded her, but the voice was persistent.

“You gotta open your eyes, Michi. You have to wake up now.” The voice was a little more forceful now, nudging her in a firmer tone. There was the smallest hint of urgency below the words, the tiniest strain in their timbre as they drifted back to her ears, finally making their way into her brain.

All right, it’s time then, Michiru thought, her eyes flickering open and blinking a few times to focus. All she could see was sky - a beautiful, clear blue expanse, a few clouds dotting the otherwise unmarred canvas. Strange, she thought, her drowsy mind not yet caught up to the world around her. Where’s Haruka?

Haruka. At the name, the entire world came back to her suddenly, a gut punch that left her choking, every sense overwhelmed and screaming:

The blue sky was suddenly far too bright and it pinched her eyes shut, and there was salt leaking from them as she blinked out--

Ash was in her nose, in her throat, choking her with the scent and texture of burning, of dying, of--

Pain, the sharp breaths she was choking in were each a new wave of agony, crashing and breaking over her, and oh god why couldn’t she feel her feet, she needed to move before she lost too much--

Blood coated the inside of her mouth and she tasted metal and copper and saltwater all brewing in a cauldron of decay that oozed over her tastebuds, sticky and sickening and frothing, boiling slowly to a fever pitch and she wanted to start--

Screaming echoed through the streets, and the crackling of a fire burning hot and wild, and horns and sirens and the dull roar of the distant sea, the tinnitus that had haunted her ever since she picked up that stick, that one terrible decision that never made sense until she realized it must have been meant to bring her to--

Haruka. There was blonde hair in her vision suddenly, a halo of the sky’s bleu de france surrounding her, the stunning color made all the more beautiful for the image that had now been put in front of it--

But when she blinked, the colors ran and muddled like cheap watercolors, soaking and bleeding into one another until each shade was tinged with gray. The hair swam and writhed like a Starry Night comprised of wriggling worms, and suddenly the blonde was too golden, too long, streaked with red ribbons of blood and fabric. The eyes remained the only point of bright blue left on her canvas, and she focused on them even as black began to creep into the edges of her vision, even as the noises dulled to the whisper of the wind rustling through her hair.

“You’re gonna be okay, Michiru,” said two voices at once, one of them gentle and soothing, the other commanding that it be so, the low and high pitched notes weaving in and out, a discordant symphony reaching a blessed decrescendo. “Just stay awake.”

But her body seemed insistent on not allowing her to remain conscious for even a moment longer, her eyelids shutting swift and firm as vault doors, the air whooshing from her mouth as her lungs relaxed. And as she drifted away on the black tide of sleep, a familiar name served as a lullaby and a prayer and a promise all:

Haruka.

The next time that Michiru awoke there was no voice coaxing her to rise, no soft caress, no gentle breeze. There was, from the infinite blackness, just the evolutionary response to open the eyes, and the bleary blinking afterwards, squinting through the lids to dilute the white.

Slowly, lines came into focus. A grid - she was staring at ceiling tiles. They were large and plain white; the one directly above her had a scuff. Michiru looked down to be greeted with more white, her uniform collar replaced with one that was stiff foam, keeping her neck straightened. She could see past that the pale blue of a hospital gown, still more white at blankets on top, a pair of hands on the bed -

her hands, she realized, and twitched the fingers to confirm. The joints moved slow and creaky, aching as they flexed, the movement highlighting the muscles so close to the skin. It occurred to her that they were wrapped in bandages, and it was then that she noticed the rust staining the palms, the deep color sharply contrasting the sterile gauze, and she remembered.

There were too many of them, numbers higher than Mercury and Venus’s estimates, and they were fast and strong, and for the third time in her life it occurred to Michiru that this was not a battle they could win.

The monsters had stopped being cutesy a while ago as the enemy grew ever more frenetic, their newfound focus on quantity meaning that they were feral beasts now, incapable of speech, frothing and single-minded in their purpose to rip, to eat, to destroy. They barely even looked humanoid, the gray and black forms rushing forth, flesh that was barely made half-peeling off before they had taken any damage at all, their eyes wild and their fingers long and sharp.

At first the Senshi had tried to treat the monsters as they would have before, as though they were still making poor puns based on hackneyed themes, but it soon became clear that this new breed of creatures could not be distracted, could not be reasoned with - they were tanks where there had only ever been musket fire, and the devastation was intense.

Michiru was fighting back-to-back with Haruka in the battle pattern that Venus had been favoring lately. (She had tried to separate the two of them, but inevitably Michiru would make her way to Haruka’s side during the battle, regardless of orders, leaving an open hole in their defense that someone else would have to adjust for. So, in a rare display of admitting defeat, she had partnered the two of them in all of the recent skirmishes.) Together, the two of them were supposed to be able to hold a large chunk of the monsters at bay, keeping them away from the center, where Sailor Moon would be most protected. And with Venus, Mars, and Tuxedo Kamen encircling her, Venus dishing out shorter-ranged attacks while the other two kept the long-range targets at bay, she could focus best on trying to use the Crystal, rainbow light shooting outwards often, taking large chunks of the charging monsters with it. But they kept coming in droves, and the Senshi had all been pushed too close together, tightening ranks until they were nearly in danger of getting hit by each other’s attacks.

In a brief moment of reprieve Michiru chanced a look towards her right where Pluto was shooting out attack after attack, pummeling any monsters that got too close with the hefty rod of her Time Key, brown sludge dripping grotesquely from its end. The women locked eyes as Pluto recovered for another attack, and without words they exchanged the mutual sentiment that this was not going well.

Michiru turned away to unleash another sweeping attack, the monsters in front of her gasping and then compressing as they were drowned and crushed by the deep oceans, but when the light from her attack cleared there were never any less of them seething forward. Sweat dripped off of the tip of her nose, and only its innate magic kept her Mirror from slipping out of her damp gloves as she used its heavy frame to cave in the skull of a close enemy.

She could sense Haruka at her back, similarly growing fatigued, and she rotated left so that she could see her partner. Haruka was hacking at any who came too close, occasional blasts of yellow light emanating from the sword to cut through whatever line of monsters was in front of it. She had grown too crowded for her earth-based attacks, Michiru realized, and shifted to try and take some ease from her partner, never mind if that meant leaving her right side more exposed.

It helped Haruka, and after a minute she was able to bellow out a ground attack, the shock reverberations shattering all of their close-range enemies and giving Michiru a moment to smile at her partner.

“I thought you had more stamina than that,” she gasped out, a smile tugging slightly at her lips, and she felt them crack, the saltwater in her veins draining her of moisture as it mingled with her blood.

Haruka smirked back, but it was a shade of what it should have been, the Mona Lisa after centuries of grime had obscured the finer features. “I’m saving my stamina for you,” came the retort through a rasping voice, the sound of the words nearly lost in the ensuing chaos.

Michiru was about to respond when she saw Haruka’s eyes widen, for once able to sense what was about to happen as Michiru could not, before the ground gave way beneath her. Michiru was left standing at the edge of a crater some two meters deep and she watched as Haruka fell hard to her knees, a harsh cry escaping her at the impact. The dirt behind her grew form and moved forward, a monster bigger than the others had been emerging from the soil and wrapping its arms around Haruka’s neck, squeezing and smiling and staring -

Michiru jumped into the pit and felt her Mirror frame give way and morph into a dagger, and as she flew forwards she saw the monster squeeze tightly, saw Haruka’s eyes go wide and then shut, and then there was red in her vision and there was pain in her back, and she felt her dagger stab through flesh as her vision went dark -

- only to go white once more as her eyes flew open, and she gasped for air as her chest burned with an intensity second only to having her Heart Crystal forcibly ripped from its prison in her ribcage. There were people scrambling around her, machines screaming and beeping in harsh discordant tones, and she looked down to see herself exposed, the thin scar between her breasts now joined by a large rectangular burn to its right, and she smelled something she assumed must have been her own dead flesh -

- and then, all at once, everything around her seemed to go quiet, as if she were suddenly underwater, the concerns of the seagulls on the waves unimportant to a mermaid of the deep. The people around her were merely a school of fish passing by overhead, and it neither pleased nor troubled her as they dwindled down until she was left alone, only the gentle tide of the painkillers dripping through her veins accompanying her down, down…

“ - said she should wake up any minute -”

“Michiru, open your eyes, my love.”

“- history of cardiac trauma -”

“It’s time to wake up, Michi.”

“- not stable enough to transport -”

“Don’t go off in a world of your own, Michiru.”

“- extent of the damage until she wakes up -”

“Wake up.”

And she did, the room coming into focus much faster than it had before. Michiru’s mind was sluggish still, the neurons creaking until they fired feebly, working off the rust of disuse. There were two women standing at the foot of her bed, not looking at her as they argued back and forth hushed tones. Haruka was sitting on a stool behind them, looking tired but otherwise unhurt. When Michiru tried to speak, she realized that there was a mask over her mouth and nose. It was not the only new addition to her growing assortment of medical treatments, she realized, as she saw underneath the hospital’s paper gown the corner of a bandage covering the burned patch of flesh she had seen the last time she was conscious.

“She’s awake,” said the standing woman with the dark hair, interrupting her debater’s latest point, the latter stopping mid-sentence to turn towards Michiru.

“Finally,” the blonde snapped, rolling her eyes in a way that didn’t quite conceal the tears at their corners.

But Michiru had no eyes for anyone but Haruka, and her love’s eyes lit up as she beamed, an expression of relief crossing her handsome features. Michiru returned the grin weakly below the mask, not looking away even as the mask was gently removed from her face.

“Michiru, can you hear me?” the woman on her left asked, purple eyes wide and searching, and she nodded back weakly. She - Rei, her mind supplied helpfully - let out a relieved sigh.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” The blonde to her left - Minako - didn’t smile, just leaned in, eyes piercing, searching urgently for some answer that Michiru couldn’t fathom.

“Give her a break, she just woke up,” Rei hissed across the bed, but Minako’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Michiru, I need to know if you’re still in there. You gotta give me something.”

Michiru looked to Haruka and received an encouraging nod. She took a deep breath and weakly spoke. “The battle…” Minako nodded once, clearly waiting for more. “How did we win?”

Rei and Minako exchanged a look that Michiru couldn’t quite decipher, some strange mix of despair and confusion. Minako opened her mouth to speak, but again Rei cut her off. “We don’t need to tell her right now.”

“Yes, I do.” Minako’s eyes were brimming with tears once more as she answered the question, and Michiru’s heart sunk before the words even came out of her mouth. “We didn’t.

“We lost.”

Michiru blinked, confusion knitting her eyebrows together. “We...lost?” she repeated, a significantly more questioning intonation to the words. She looked to Haruka, who nodded sadly.

Rei glanced at where Haruka sat before turning her attention back to Michiru. “Basically, yes.”

“Basically.” Michiru repeated, her pain and the medicine dulling her responses to the most banal of parroting. She squeezed her eyes shut and then reopened them wide to try and force out the haziness of her thoughts, but all it served to do was make Haruka’s silhouette flicker in her vision.

“See Minako, this is why it really should have waited,” Rei stressed, but Minako didn’t acknowledge her, her intense gaze never moving from Michiru’s face.

“I’m going to ask you again, Michiru, and I need you to really answer me this time. What is the last thing that you remember? What is the last part of the battle that you saw?”

There were no more interjections from Rei, and all eyes were on Michiru as they clearly waited for her to answer. “There was - one of them -” and Michiru’s voice dropped low and broke as she tried to stifle the raw emotion that remembering brought with it “- on top of Haruka - Uranus - and I attacked it, and then -” She paused as the memory froze in her mind. She remembered the heft of the dagger in her hand and the wind under her as she leapt, and then she remembered darkness as her blade connected with soft tissue, and then no more until the white of the hospital around her.

“Then what?” Minako prodded. Michiru just shook her head, her weakened muscles only allowing it to rock back and forth across the pillow.

“Then - I’m here,” she answered. “It’s just - gone. Black.”

Minako nodded, seemingly accepting the answer. “Okay.” She turned and walked towards the door purposefully, not glancing to see if she was being followed.

Rei huffed and started to protest, but she instead turned to Michiru. “I - I’m going to get a doctor. Since you’re awake.” She smiled, but it was hollow as her eyes, too, filled with tears; she left the room briskly, and suddenly a room that had felt too crowded with life was now nearly sterile, almost achingly empty.

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving,” Haruka said in response to the moment of sadness in Michiru’s eyes, smiling warmly as she rose to cross closer. She sat on the bed and gently stroked Michiru’s hair, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’m here.”

And the unanswered questions, the pain, the entire world fell away, and Michiru found that if everything else vanished in that instant, never to return, that Haruka alone would still be enough reason for her to smile.

#my writing #fanfiction #sailor moon #michiru kaioh #haruka tenoh #sailor neptune #sailor uranus #minako aino #rei hino #in passing anyway #sittingoverheredreaming #commissioned work

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kissme-hs · 7 years

Text

Black Butterflies - 3

Here it is, much awaited part 3. Don’t forget to give me feedback. Plus re-blog and recommend others my blog if you liked it so far :) And the base of flashback has been borrowed from @secret-rendezvous1d I did some editing here and there. Thanks to her !

*Minor SMUT WARNING*

Part - 1

Part - 2

Word count :: 2507

Harry thew his head back in pleasure as he rolled his hips against Kristine. They still were at Disneyland with kids and didn’t get time to catch up with each other. So after putting his kids to bed, he started it all by kissing her. His lips trailing kisses down her neck, leaving purple marks on her neck.

‘fuck Harry do something.” Kristine whimpered beneath her. Her chest rising with every breath she took pressing it against his. His silver chain hanging from his neck as he hovered her and slowly pushed himself inside her. Her wetness making it easy for harry to slide his thick shaft inside her in a one swift motion. Her hands coming in contact with his muscular back as she dragged her nails along it.

The next hour was spent making love fucking.

Harry rolled off her after reaching his heights and laid beside her. She smiled and rested her head on his chest.

He didn’t felt right. The feeling was foreign for him. She felt unfamiliar. Soon her soft snores filled the room. and Harry found himself awake in bed staring blankly at the ceiling. His mind was going crazy with a chaos of thoughts. Why was he feeling like this? He himself din’t know. The feeling was making him sick making him questioning himself what was going on.

He started question, did he actually loved Kristine or was it just a illusion. Shaking his head, brushing the thoughts away he pulled her sleeping figure close to his chest.

“Of course I love her” he mumbled and closed his eyes.

You hissed to self as blood gushed out of your finger that you cut while chopping the veggies. You opened the tap and put it under the cool running water. The cool sensation giving relief to you as you padded to the front door to open it where Anne stood carrying a bag with her.

“Elo darling” She said cheerfully pulling you in a tight hug. Her warm affection warming your cold body up. You smiled at her cheerful spirit before pulling away.

“Come inside mum.” You said.

Mum. The very first time you met her and called Mrs. Twist she asked you to call her mum instead. She said that you too were like Gemma to her and calling her Mrs. Twist would embarrass her hearing it from her daughter.

Anne was much of a best friend to you than a mother-in-law. She was always there when you needed her. Whenever you and Harry fought, you’d always ask her for help and knowing his son well, she’d help you. You told her everything. And having her as a mother made you feel lucky

“So, how’re yeh doin’?” She asked rubbing th back of your hand with her thumb sitting on the couch with you as you both sipped on your tea.

“Very well. Thank you. What about you?” You asked putting your cup down on the coffee table.

“I’m good. How’re yeh ?” She asked again.

“i uh i said I’m good”

“I asked you how’re yeh?” She asked once again and there was no backing up from it now. Tears welled up in your eyes and you looked down and sniffed.

“Not good mum. I’m breaking inside. God I feel dead “ You sobbed and were pulled inside the arms of that lovely lady.

“There it is baby. Let it out sweet. Cry all yeh want” she cooed. Her soft voice made weep as you wrapped your arms around her crying your heart out.

“I feel yeh “ She said and after a few minutes of good crying, you pulled away. You noticed her navy blue tee had a damp spot from your tears. You wiped your tears and nose with the back of your hand. And it did helped you. Crying out did help you made feel better.

“I am disgusted with my son right now. Never expected him to do this. I’m sorry he caused you so much pain” she said sympathetically cupping your right cheek.

“He just chose to leave instead of fighting. That’s all mum” You cried softly.

“I feel yeh love. I’ve been at your place before” She said. And she wasn’t lying. The only difference was that their decision of separation was mutual unlike you guys.

“I can’t believe he’d do something like that. He always told me how much he loved you”

“It’s okay mum. Love fades away”

“You really love her, don’t you?”

He looks across to his mother as she nurses her cup of tea, cosied up into Robin’s side, with a smile on her face. The lamps around the room giving her face a gentle glow, shadows forming from her features as Harry’s fingers drag up his your arm softly.

“I really do,” he whispers, nodding softly, “absolutely smitten with her, I am.”

“I think the feeling is very much mutual,” she smiles, leaning forward and setting her mug on a coaster on the coffee table, reaching over to grab his free hand and perching on the armrest beside her son, “she’s wonderful. She really is. I’ve never seen you with such a huge smile on your face before. She’s what you need. Someone to keep you grounded and to stop you from swimming off and getting too crazy.”

“dropping her coffee over my shoes that day was what got us here today. I love her. I really do. She’s changed my life over the last 8 months, mum, and I realised that I’ve never been so crazy for someone before. I love her. It makes me so happy that you like her, as well,” he smiles, looking down at you and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I think I’m going to take her to bed. I’m going to take her off into Holmes Chapel tomorrow and show her everything I used to get up to. You’re welcome to join us if you want to come.”

“Oh, no. No, you have some time together. We’ve spent all day with you,” Anne smiles, cupping his face in her hand and pressing a kiss to his forehead, “I’ll have a nice breakfast set out for you both tomorrow. Be up for 8, okay?”

He nods, adjusting his arms around you lifting you to his chest, standing to his feet and bidding a goodnight before he’s making his way up the stairs.

Anne felt her heart aching as she remembered the memories of Harry bringing you to their house for the first time. His lips were spread in a wide grin. She loved how happy he looked and knew you were the one. But now she felt broken. She never expected any of her kid to have divorce in future as she taught them that single thing can destroy many lives.

Thinking of her daughter-in-law brought tears to her eyes. She knew how hard the situation was for her and she felt vulnerable because there’s nothing she could do ease the pain of the poor girl. Nothing but pray to god.

“Eat” Kristine ordered bringing the spoon full of porridge to Noah’s mouth. Harry was in the bathroom and asked Kristine to feed Noah. And without denying she nodded and sat little toddler on baby chair and started feeding her. But he didn’t seem to like her attitude.Since the say Harry brought kids along with Kristine, she felt that Harry payed more attention to kids than her. Once she even wore short exposing clothes to arouse Harry, but instead of getting turned on, Harry grabbed her by her elbow gently and took inside the room only to scold her not to wear such clothes around kids It only flamed the fire inside Kristine more for his kids.

She tried feeding Noah forcefully when he suddenly pushed her away, spilling porridge all over her t-shirt and some on her hair.

“What’ve you done?!?!” she roared scaring Noah. Hearing his cries, Rose came running from the other room and started calming down his brother. But when her eyes fell on Kristine, he couldn’t help but let out a laugh seeing porridge sticking to her hair. Kristine’s eyes flared up with anger as she stood up and hovered Rose. Her hand rising up in the air.

Poor girl’s eyes filled with fear sensing what

“you little piece of s-” she spat when suddenly rose ran and stuck to fer father’s leg crying.

“Daddy!!!” she cried as harry picked her up.

“Wha’s wrong poppet?” Harry asked rubbing her back.

“Kr-Kristine was going to hit me” she sobbed in his neck. Harry pulled away, his eyebrows furrowed as he set her down.

“What? I could never do that to you” Kristine cooed changing herself like a chameleon crouching beside Harry, in front of Rose. She pushed her hand away when Kristine tried to touch her.

“You lie!” Rose cried.

“Sh-she even was saying the S word” Rose cried.

“Oh god. “ Kristine said covering her mouth as tears fell down her eyes. Harry instantly wrapped his arms around her pulling her to him.

“Apologize to kris” Harry old rose rubbing the small back of Kristine.

“No” Rose refused shaking her head showing Harry attitude.

“Don’ Rose. I said apologize” Harry warned and once again Rose denied. It set Harry off the verge. Harry stood up and took a breath trying not to explode on her daughter but he was helpless.

“GO TO YOUR ROOM NOW!” He shouted, making everyone in the room flinch. His loud voice making Noah to burst in tear once again. Rose’s breath hitched in as tears flooded her eyes.

“I hate you” she mumbled ever so softly before helping his brother down the chair and running to her room with him.

After coming back to his senses. He felt hurt. He felt disgusted for scaring his little girl like that. His own eyes getting wet as he sat on the ground with his head in his hands sobbing quietly. Kristine took the chance and brought him to her chest rubbing his back.

“Shhh baby. It’s okay”

As soon as Rose finished up telling you what happened to them on vacation, Y/n stomped out of her house and drove to their Harry’s house. Unfortunately, he wasn’t their and you were greeted by none other than his girlfriend, who was dressed in nothing but a pair of panties and his t-shirt.

“Oh hi. Come inside” she said stepping aside for y/n to come in and she gladly did. Seeing Kristine was making his blood boil. Especially when she was wearing the ring in her necklace that you gifted Harry. You felt sick thinking about how stupid you were to fall for a guys like that.

“Stop” Y/n said trying to be calm. She didn’t wanted any foreplay.

“What?” Kristine asked innocently clearly aware as to why y/n was there.

“Stop being so two faced.And how dare you talk to my kids like that?!” Y/n shouted.

“Oh really? But you husband, oops i mean my boyfriend doesn’t seems to be bothered about it. And about your kids, it’ll be better f you keep them to yourself.” she said standing with her hands on her hips.

“Harry is their father! They have the whole right to be with him! And oh my god I cannot believe he actually likes a bitch like you!”

“Oh please darling he loves me. Probably because I’m not ugly,fat and emotional mess like you. When he spent that night with me, he told me how much he regretted marrying you and voila I helped him every night. All the time he said he was out, he was with me, inside me actually” she laughed

“and you know what? He’s smitten over me” She said. You let out a sob as her words hit you like a knife but you had to be strong, for your kids.

“God. He’s an Idiot. Never knew he fuck buddy would turn out to be someone like you” You spat hatefully.

“Wha’ do ya mean” Said a heavy voice. You turned around and saw Harry standing at the porch, Kristine wasted no time running to him and crying fake tears.

“shh baby. “ Harry said kissing her head before making his way to you. Your heart beat fastened as you took in to his face. He looked mesmerizing. So pure and gentle. He looked so good and it was clear that the divorce wasn’t affecting him where you looked completed opposite but he was too blinded to see how much you were hurting.

“I-I can’t believe you yelled at Rose” you stammered as he hovered you.

“Had to do that t’ teach her some manners. And wha’ did yeh by fuck buddy huh? I love her! Ge’ this fucking thing in your brain.” he said. He was getting red with every word he said.

“It’s alright Haz. I’m okay” Kristine said clutching to his arm sounding so poor and petite. All you wanted to do was to punch her straight in the face.

“No Kris! Nobody talks to m’love like that” He said eyeing you. His eyes dug in you were burning you. You felt naked and wrapped your arms around yourself but the time wasn’t to be. It was to fight.

“I didn’t said anything wrong Harry styles! She’s nothing but a slut, a fuck buddy whom you fucked every night, you spent every night with her moaning where I sat at home, awake the whole night wondering if you’re okay! While you’re kids kept asking for you!”

“And did you ever asked meh why was I? Let me tell yeh because you never were enough! Seeing your face disgusted me!” He yelled. His voice echoed in the house while every word he said.

Your heart clenched. Your chest felt heavy again as a tear rolled down your cheek. Never in a million years you thought he’d say something like this, but he did.

“You are the biggest regret of my life” You whispered.

“If you’re done, I’d like you to leave” He said looking away.

“didn’t you hear him Y/n?” Kristine said her tears all gone now replaced by happiness of you crying. You knew she was trying to evoke you and damn it did work.

“Shut up you bit-” And before you could finish the whole sentence, Harry grabbed you my your elbow harshly and dragged to the porch.

“Get the fuck outta my house!”

_______________

Oh well well. I’ve started hating Harry while writing this. Feedback please!

#harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles love #harry styles blurbs #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfcitions #hs #hs1 #hs imagines #kiss me hs #one direction #one direction imagines #one direction one shots #dad harry #since you've been gone #Miss me when I'm gone

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tragically-broken · 7 years

Text

Coffee Stains pt.5

Ship: Feysand Type: College AU Word Count: 2,021

Hey everyone! Sorry this part took so long I really wasn’t sure where I was going with this.....OKAY lets me honest I still don’t lol. I got a little discouraged, so feedback is greatly appreciated! A special thank you to all the anons encouraging me and expressing their interest<3 Enjoy!

Fifteen.

Fifteen minutes.

That’s how long she’s been standing outside his door.

Feyre took a deep breath, in the nose-out the mouth.

All she had to do was knock. It was that simple.

If it’s that simple then how come she couldn’t do it?

Feyre ran her hands through her hair in frustration.

He’s not Tamlin, he’s not Tamlin, he’s NOT Tamlin.

She knocks on the door.

Rhys swings open his apartment door as an instant smile spreads across his face.

“Come on in! The Chinese food got here about 30 min ago, so I put it in the oven to keep warm.”

“Thank goodness I’m starving!” She hadn’t noticed how hungry she was until the scent of sweet and spicy chicken with fried rice wafted in the air.

Rhys pulled the food out of the oven and handed her a pair of chop sticks. Feyre eyed him with caution.

“Something wrong?”

“Giving me a pair of chopsticks is a very dangerous idea….”

“And why is that exactly?”

“Do you LIKE noodles on your ceiling?”

Rhys barked a laugh

“You can’t possibly be that bad….”

“Whatever, it’s your apartment.” She stated simply grabbing the chopsticks from him. “I hope you access to a cleaning service.”

“What if I show you how to use them instead of turning my apartment into some dramatic reality tv show?” Rhys handed her a white container filled to the top with rice, then changed his mind and switched the rice for noodles.

“Hey!”

“What? Noodles are easier to clean up.”

She gaped at him in playful offence and launched a fortune cookie at his head.

Rhys’s warm laugh filled the air.

“I wouldn’t be mean to the fortune cookies if I were you….they decide your fate!”

Rhys made his way to where Feyre was sitting at the bar and stood directly behind her.

She could feel the heat radiating off his body pouring over her as he inched closer. Rhys reached around, arms on either side of her.

“So, you hold them like this.” His hand dwarfed hers as he tried to morph her hand around the chopsticks the correct way.

“Make sure your thumb stays on the inside so you don’t lose balance….there you go! Now see if you can pick up a noodle…..”

They were close enough now that she could feel his breath caress her neck.

How was she supposed to concentrate on the noodles when chills covered her entire body?

She took a deep breathe feeling his eyes on her hands as she dove for the noodles with false confidence. Noodles slipped from her chopsticks twice when she finally managed to snatch one up and bring it to her lips with a slurp.

She could feel Rhys chuckle against her back.

“Only you could manage to make slurping cute…”

Feyre felt a blush rise on her cheeks.

“If you think that’s cute you should see me eat ice cream…”

As Feyre turned to look into his deep violet eyes….was that lust behind his stare? Suddenly words became difficult.

*Rhys coughed*

“Why don’t we move to the couch?”

She nodded slipping off the bar stool and made her way to the plush smoky blue couch.

Oh gods where should she sit……

After a moments hesitation she sat in the middle of the couch at the perfect angel for watching tv.

The couch was deep enough to sit crisscross apple sauce, noodles placed comfortably in her lap.

She could hear the crinkle of paper bags and the slight shuffle of Chinese boxes. She felt more than heard his approach.

Somehow she had forgotten how well built his body was. When he sat down next to her body sunk into his, arms touching as a result.

“S-sorry…” he mumbled

He started to inch away before Feyre realized how much she enjoyed being this close to him.

“It’s actually convenient….It’s a little chilly in here.” She murmured edging closer.

Rhys clicked the TV on, but not before Feyre caught his smug smile.

So they just sat there. Eating their food, bodies close enough to provide warmth.

Feyre couldn’t remember the last time she was this comfortable with someone who wasn’t Mor….

Gods she missed Mor.

She missed the way Mor smiled when she watched cat videos on her phone, the way she always brought home chocolate ice cream when she went to the market because she knew it was Feyre’s favorite, and the way that she made every bad situation seem not so bad anymore.

“Feyre?...”

“Hmm?” she mumbled through the noodles in her mouth

“Is everything alright? I felt like I lost you there for a second.”

“I was just thinking about my best friend who moved away recently…”

“That sucks, does she visit?”

“She hasn’t had the opportunity yet, but hopefully she’ll visit soon.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…why did she move away?”

“She got an amazing internship opportunity in New York at a big fashion industry which has been a dream of hers forever, so she had to go.”

“Yeah I understand how those things go, my cousin is into fashion also and she barely has enough time for weekly phone calls.”

“Yeah it’s just hard not having a best friend to talk to 24/7”

“I know I may not be as pretty, or have her high fashion sense, but maybe I could be her substitute while she’s away…the benefits would be mutual since my best friend is currently pinning after some woman who can barely stand to breathe the same air as him.…”

Feyre laughed “Poor thing doesn’t know when to quit huh?”

“Yeah, something we have in common….”

Feyre leaned her head back laughing “I suppose you’ll do for the time being”

“You know….” Rhys dramatically whispered leaned his entire body forward stopping merely inches from her face.

“Since we’re best friends now, I think it’s only right I know all your deepest secrets.”

Feyre chuckled “Oh do you now…” she whispered back not moving an inch forward or backwards

“Whenever you’re ready.” He softly whispered, eyes darting from hers to her mouth.

Her whole body became aware of his eyes on her lips.

Feyre swallowed and whispered back “I think you should go first…”

Rhys’s half smile lit up the room as he leaned closer and angled his head to whisper in her ear. His lips grazed her lobe making sending a shiver up her spine.

“One of my secrets is….” His nose lightly skimmed her jaw “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the day we ran into each other….you’re incredibly cute when you’re flustered Feyre Darling….”

Feyre’s whole body blushed remembering the incident.

He lightly kissed her cheek

“Your turn Darling….” His lips remained close to her ear while his hand ran up her knee.

How was she supposed to respond when she wasn’t even sure she could breathe?

“One of my secrets is…” his hand ran from her knee up her thigh, and she planted a hand on his chest feeling each of his breathes as they become heavier. “I’m not sure what I want anymore, but I enjoy being with you….and that’s all I’m sure of…”

Rhys leaned back slightly to look into her eyes. “Nothing will ever happen here that you don’t want to happen; I hope you know that you’re safe here…with me.”

So much promise and security dwelled between those words that she couldn’t stand it any longer.

She leaned forward pressing her lips to his. Rhys’s hand found her neck and threaded into her hair. She deepened the kiss at the sweet sensation and leaned forward so that they were chest to chest.

The pressure against her breasts was enough to take her breath away. She couldn’t remember a time when she felt more alive.

She moved her arms to wrap around his neck and pushed him back against the sofa effectively straddling him.

He moaned what might’ve been her name in the back of his throat as his hands rose up her thighs to rest on her backside and lightly squeezed.

She pressed her chest even harder into his as their tongues danced against each other. His hands moved up to her back and dug into the fabric of her shirt, when he suddenly flipped their positions.

Her back rested against the plush coach, hair splayed out against the blue cushions, lips slightly red, and cheeks flushed.

“You’re breath taking…” Rhys whispered as he dipped his neck to suck on her neck.

Oh he was definitely going to leave a mark, but Feyre was so breathless she didn’t care.

Her nails scratched his scalp as he continued to make his mark.

When he was satisfied with his work he claimed her lips once again. Warmth filled her entire being.

His hands ventured up her waist and rested just beneath her shirt. The skin on skin contact was almost enough to send her through the roof.

Her thighs gripped his sides and his hands moved higher and higher, when a cold sweat began to break out and she was not longer laying against the plush couch of Rhys’s living room.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, her chest bare, his tongue playing with hers. Her hands we frozen in place at his sides as he began to take what he thought was his. He started to unbutton her jeans when she finally broke out of her trance.

“Tamlin…”

“Hm?” lips moving to her shoulder

“I’m not ready”

“Sure you are baby…why else would you be panting my name?”

“This has been nice, but I think we should stop.”

“But we’re so close…” he unzipped her pants

“Tamlin, stop.” She breathed gently pushing him away

“You lied to me.” He answered angrily

“Wh-at?” Feyre stammered

“You said you loved me.” He stated as he leaned further away

“Tamlin I-“

“SAVE IT FEYRE!”

“Feyre!” a voice yelled her name

“Huh?!” she huffed a breath taking in her surroundings.

The couch beneath her trembling body

Her hands clenched into fists of his shirt

Not Tamlin

Rhys

“Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Rhys spoke softly as if he was whispering to a frightened animal.

He softly wiped hot tears from her cheeks

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong….please talk to me…”

“I’m sorry I-“

And more tears came like some damn in her body finally broke

“Oh Feyre, will you let me hold you?”

Feyre could only nod out of fear that a strangled cry might escape.

Rhys cradled her to his body

Her head between his shoulder and neck, as she sat between his legs, both legs slung over his knee, and wept

“Shhhhh, everything will be ok Feyre Darling….”

Eventually the tears stopped and she looked up at him

“Feyre, what was that?”

“I had a uh ummm flashback…”

“Would you feel comfortable elaborating?”

She played with a button on his shirt as a temporary distraction

“It was of my ex-boyfriend….Tamlin.”

“What happened?” He asked slowly

“We were at his house and…we were…fooling around when I wanted to stop, but he didn’t and then he got mad, so I almost let him- and then he tried to…….I barely got out.”

“Oh gods Feyre…..”

He hugged her tight and she let him- wanted him to

“I’m sorry if I was moving too fast. We should’ve had a conversation before we went in that direction…”

“It’s not your fault! I wanted to- I enjoyed- I was happy until I had that flashback….it’s my fault.”

“Feyre look at me…”

She lifted her head to look into his eyes

“None of this is your fault.”

And she believed him

“Can I stay here tonight?”

“Anything you want Darling, is yours.” Softly kissing her forehead

They watched movies all night until she fell asleep on top of his chest

Her hand clenched in his shirt just as it was a few hours ago…

He lightly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear

Simply hearing her heavy peaceful breathes was music to his ears

And he silently wished that they could stay this way forever

Then someone knocked on the door.

*TAP TAP TAP*

Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, and constructive criticism is always welcome!

(Also my Nessian side fic is under construction! YAY)

#me #coffee stains #coffee stains pt5 #college au #feysand #feyre #rhysand #sjm #fanfiction #feysand fanfiction

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aslightstep · 7 years

Text

I Come With Knives

I never promised you an open heart or charity/I never wanted to abuse your imagination

“Howard? Why are you looming over the baby?”

Howard didn’t look at his wife, instead once more turning Tony’s wrist to the right, then to the left. “I don’t loom,” he muttered when he felt Maria’s hand on his shoulder.

“Hover, then.” Together they looked down at Tony, fast asleep in his crib. Howard carefully placed his son’s hand back on the mattress, palm down so the name on his wrist was hidden.

“We should get it removed,” he said quietly. “While we have the chance.”

“Howard, that’s his soulmate,” Maria said sternly.

“His soulmate that he’s never going to meet?” Howard asked derisively, turning towards her. “It’s cruelty, Maria. We get it done now, he’ll never know.”

“So we let him grow up thinking that there’s no one out there that will or would ever have truly loved him?” his wife challenged.

He sighed, steering her out of the room. “You place too much stock in soulmates, my dear. They’re not the be all and end all of everything.”

“Should I be insulted?” Maria laughed, running her finger along her own name carved into Howard’s skin. “Look, all I truly know about soulmates is this: when the fascists were chasing us out of Italy and I lost my parents, when I thought every day was my last, knowing that somewhere out there, dead or alive, you had carried me in your heart was the only thing that kept me going. No, soulmates are not everything, Howard, but they are enough. And besides, Tony deserves to know.”

Howard pursed his lips, thinking it through, knowing Maria won’t back down on this, and he finally nodded, earning a smile and a kiss from his wife. “He never said anything, you know,” he said to her as she began to walk away. “He must have wondered. Same last name and all. But he never said.”

Maria shrugged. “Maybe he was scared. Forties homophobia is a pretty big deterrent, Howard.” She headed towards their room.

Howard took a deep breath and let it out slowly, rapping twice on the door to Tony’s room. “You hear that, kid? You grow up and hate that name, you don’t blame me.”

There was a reason Maria didn’t want Howard to remove her son’s soulmark. One that she would never tell him directly to her face.

Howard was never going to be a good father.

She never even meant to get pregnant, even though Howard wanted an heir. Especially because Howard wanted an heir. She loved her soulmate, but he was never going to view any child of theirs as anything but another one of his inventions.

And Howard expected his inventions to be perfect.

Tony, beautiful, brilliant Antonio, was anything but perfect. He was a noisy, overly-inquisitive child who had a know-it-all streak a mile wide and was a bit spoiled. He was messy and loud and forever saying nonsensical things. In other words, he was a perfectly normal four year old, but Howard would never see it that way. Everything wrong with Tony needed to be fixed, NOW, instead of letting him grow out of his more negative qualities.

Maria picked up Tony as he cried, running ice along the burns on his fingers and internally cursing her husband’s name. Of course he had pushed Tony to finish the circuit board, of course he had let their baby use power tools. He had been so disappointed when Tony’s first board hadn’t worked, told Tony not to even bother if he couldn’t get it right. Howard had always prized the scientific method, but with Tony, his creation, he couldn’t seem to fathom inaccuracies.

“Daddy will be mad,” Tony sobbed. “You have to let me down, Mama, I have to try again.”

Maria hushed him, running a hand through his hair. “Daddy won’t be mad, baby.”

“Yes he will, he’ll hate me. He hates me!”

“He doesn’t, sweetheart, he loves you.” As best he could, anyway. “And I love you, too.”

Tony only just sobbed harder, shaking his head.

This was why Maria insisted they kept the mark. Because Howard was going to carve their baby into a scientist no matter what, and Maria could say the words for both of them until she turned blue in the face, but Tony needed proof. She gently turned Tony’s hand so his wrist was facing them, running her hands along the name there. Her poor son. “He loves you, Tony.”

Tony slowly quieted, reaching out with his other hand, so small, and following her movements. “He does?”

“He’s your soulmate. No matter where he is, no matter what you’ve done, he loves you. Always. That’s what a soulmate means: always.”

“Always,” Tony echoed, a hint of a smile in his voice.

Edwin Jarvis dragged the glass of whiskey away from his young charge and replaced it with a glass of milk. “Would you like to tell me what brought this on?”

He had come home to find the liquor cabinet’s lock picked and Anthony flung out on the piano bench, contemplated the tumbler in his hands like it was a hand grenade. He had ushered both pre-teen and tumbler to the kitchen where he now sat beside him, rubbing a hand on his back.

Tony’s eyes were red. Jarvis didn’t even know Tony remembered how to cry anymore.

“M’ soulmate’s dead,” Tony whispered, and Jarvis felt his heart sink. He and Maria had talked about this moment, how to handle it. He was amazed, honestly, that it had taken Tony so long to piece it together. He only wish Maria was here now.

“You knew.” Tony was staring at him now, betrayal in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone?”

“Because he made you happy,” Jarvis answered. “And you deserved that feeling for as long as we could give it to you.”

Tony’s lower lip trembled. “Why even let me feel that when you knew it was going to be taken away? He’s dead, Jarvis! Like, really dead, like for-decades dead. I’m never gonna see him. I’m gonna be alone forever.”

Jarvis pulled his charge into a hug, holding tightly until Tony relaxed. “Not so, sir,” he said softly. “He’ll always be with you. He was meant for you. That makes him a part of you, and nothing, not even death, can take that away.”

Tony’s body shuddered and Jarvis felt his shirt grow damp, but Tony remained silent. Jarvis hoped that meant the words sunk in.

“You’re seriously not gonna tell me?” Jim laughed, hitting Tony with a pillow. His roommate toppled over in a pile of gangly limbs and giggles. “I showed you mine!”

“And I’m sure Virginia Potts is a hell of a lady, whoever she may be,” Tony said. “But I didn’t ask you to show me, man, this isn’t quid pro quo or something.”

The words were as teasing as ever, but Tony’s eyes had shuttered by the end of his sentence. Oh. Oh. Dammit. Jim had overstepped some serious bounds here. “’Course, man. I didn’t mean - I just thought if I knew I could keep an eye out.”

Tony shrugged, sitting up, fiddling with the thick band around his wrist covering the name of his soulmate. Rhodes had never seen him take it off in the entire year he had known him. He’d bet that was one serious tanline.

“He’s dead.”

Jim blinked, head snapping towards Tony, not sure he heard right. “He’s-”

“Dead,” Tony repeated.

Well, Jim was definitely taking Worst Best Friend this year. “Tones, I’m sorry.”

To his surprise, Tony looked up and smiled. “It’s okay. He loved me. Even if he never met me. He had my name. He loved me. That’s enough for me.”

“That’s…” Jim searched for words. “Weirdly mature of you, boss.”

Tony laughed, pushing at his shoulder. “Don’t rag on my coping mechanisms, man!”

Jim dragged the younger boy into a headlock, and promised himself he’d never let anyone bother Tony about that wrist band where he could hear them.

“What’s it like?” Tony asked Pepper once, as they were both drifting on inflatable tubes neither should have brought into the lazy river installment circling the hotel pool. But hey, who was going to stop Tony Stark, or his platinum card?

She made an inquisitive hum. “The soulmate thing,” Tony clarified, and Pepper opened her eyes to look at her boss. He wasn’t looking back, his eyes firmly placed on the ceiling, but she could read the yearning in his face.

Tony had told her the truth about his soulmate years ago, but it still hurt her every time she thought about it. To know that Tony would never feel what she felt-

Well, maybe she could describe it to him. Tony had always had an amazing imagination.

“You feel…complete,” she said, and Tony sighed and closed his eyes. “You feel finished. Like you’ve been a puzzle all your life and here someone has all the missing puzzles you didn’t know were missing. And you have all of theirs. It’s mutual, and that’s what makes it - so great, I guess. That you’re needed as much as you need. That your love is returned equally.”

She and Rhodey had turned out to be platonic, both happily seeing other people who were also platonically-bonded, but she couldn’t imagine being without him now. Functioning like she did now. Sometimes it scared her, that level of devotion. She knew now why some people killed themselves after losing their soulmates.

“Sounds wonderful,” Tony murmured, his right hand encircling the band on his left wrist. “You and Rhodey are lucky.” He didn’t mean it to sound petulant, and it didn’t, but she still felt a spike of guilt anyway.

“Very,” she agreed, reaching out to take his hand. “And lucky to have you, too.”

Bruce watched as Tony stuck a hand out to the Captain while popping blueberries into his mouth. “Tony Stark,” he said when he was finished chewing.

“I know,” Captain Rogers said, a hint of disdain in his voice. “I read about you.”

“Then obviously you know absolutely everything about me there is to know,” Tony said, blisteringly dry, but it was the expression on Tony’s face that caught Bruce’s attention more than anything. He looked strangely nervous and - expectant? Like he was waiting for a specific reaction.

Whatever it was, he didn’t get it. Rogers snapped at Tony a bit then left, and Tony came back to the lab equipment looking small and lost, fiddling with the band around his wrist.

Jesus, Bruce thought. Please don’t let them be soulmates.

Thor respected the Captain and his command, but even he had to admit that so far the man was absolutely dismal at connecting with the Man of Iron.

It was not all Steven's fault, of course; Tony was pricklier than most monsters Thor had faced and his manner of speaking took time to get used to. Between the two of them, both men were terrible at communicating with each other.

So Thor did what he would do with his fellow warriors back home when they would fight.

He sat them down, and got them drunk.

"You both have much in common," he said as he filled Steven's cup with liquor straight from Asgard.

"Like what?" Tony asked, one eyebrow raising.

"You are both leaders of your people. You are both quick-witted and ingenious. You both are missing your soulmates." That last one was a gamble; Thor was never sure when it was appropriate to talk about soulmates. (Personally he found the whole thing strange and frightening in a way he couldn’t define, but it was not his place to pass judgment on them.)

“My soulmate’s not missing,” Tony said, staring at Steve with an intensity that seemed out of place. “He - They’re just. Not here.”

“Neither is mine,” Steve said quietly, looking up at Tony, a curiosity in his eyes that wasn’t there before. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Tony said stiffly. “I’ve never known any different.”

“You mean you have never met yours?” Thor asked, a bit shocked. From what he had been told and what he’d seen, people had ways of hunting down their soulmates now, and Tony was quite famous.

“No. And I never will, so just-” Tony down his finger of scotch and then wiped at his mouth with a shaky hand. “Look, Thor, this has been great, but I know what you’re trying to do. Me and Cap here, we just don’t mesh well. I think he’s got a giant stick up his ass and he thinks that I’m not good enough-”

“When did I ever say that?” Steven cried, outraged.

Tony lifted his chin in the air. “Oh, you didn’t have to. Your face is plenty expressive, Cap. You’d make a terrible spy, by the way. But also, let’s not forget that you knew men worth ten of me with none of this. We all know who you were talking about, Rogers.”

“I don’t,” Thor volunteered.

Steven looked devastated. “Tony, I was - I was confused, and angry. I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry. Besides, didn’t you make me look like a complete idiot not one day later, flying that nuke into the portal? I thought you’d never come down.”

Tony’s chin slowly dropped so he could meet Steven’s gaze more fully. For one long tense moment Thor thought he might get up and leave, but then Tony sighed. “I didn’t mean what I said either. I just. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “Hey, Tony. You’re good enough.”

“Yeah?” Tony said with a tentative smile, and Thor finally relaxed. They began slowly discusses other things, people and culture, the differences between Asgard and 1940s New York City and the world today. It felt like camaraderie. Thor would be most pleased to take this news to the Widow.

“What was he like?” Tony asked a few drinks in.

“Who?” Steve rolled his head to look at the other man.

“You know...” Tony laughed and fiddled with his wristband. “Barnes.” Thor detected a peculiar note of reverence when Tony said the name, but from what he’d said, Tony had grown up hearing tales of these Howling Commandos. Thor suspected such respect was not so far-fetched.

“You really want to know?” Steve asked. Tony tilted his head, a strange smile on his face.

“’Course I do. We could swap stories if you want. I could tell you ‘bout all the crazy shit Aunt Peggy got up to.”

And then Thor watched as a real smile, the first he had seen in this new world, grew on Steve’s face. “I’d like that.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Steve said to Tony as they both stood in the kitchen, watching Bucky carefully fiddle with the remote.

“It’s no problem,” Tony replied, his voice very faint. “Couldn’t leave him out there in the cold, could I?”

After hearing what down in DC, Tony had spared no expense helping Steve track down Bucky and bringing him back to the Tower - “only if he wants to,” Tony had said, cautious but hopeful. Now they had him back, and neither of them could take their eyes of the man.

Tony was finally meeting one of his heroes; he was forever asking Steve about Bucky, what he had been like when they were kids and during the war. He looked up to Bucky in a way he didn’t to Steve, and at first that had made Steve a bit jealous, but then he realized that Howard had essentially poisoned Tony against him by constantly putting him in competition with Steve’s memory. Bucky was safer, and not seemingly impossible to live up to. Tony actually had a Bucky Bear, although he had turned bright red when he admitted he had bought it in his teens.

And Steve - Steve was getting back his soulmate.

He had taken a careful peak under the wrist band Bucky never took off when Bucky slept on the plane ride over, and breathed out a sigh of relief when he saw that HYDRA hadn’t marked over or cut off his name. God, he had missed him. Had missed having a soulmate, period, but Bucky more than anything.

Tony moved from beside him, approaching Bucky and sticking out a hand. Steve tensed; Bucky’s reactions weren’t always reliable. “I’m Anthony Stark,” Tony said, which was a bit odd as Tony hated his full name, but maybe he was saying it to give Bucky something concrete to latch onto. “But you can call me Tony. You okay with Bucky?”

Bucky stared at the hand, then Tony’s face, and then slowly reached out with his metal arm. Steve stepped forward, but all Bucky did was shake Tony’s hand. Tony inhaled sharply and the air seemed to freeze before Bucky broke it with a rough, garbled “Bucky’s fine. Anything’s better than ‘Asset.’”

“I bet,” Tony said, smirking a bit. Bucky dropped his hand and a shadow passed over Tony’s face, but then he was all smiles. “How ‘bout I give you the nickel and dime tour?”

“Ain’t got any money,” Bucky grumbled. “Didn’t exactly get paid for killing people.”

Tony shrugged, not looking the least bit horrified. “Eh, I’m rich enough for the both of us.”

Tony was quite possibly Bucky’s favorite person in those first few months. Steve and Sam tried to be there for Bucky as best they could, but Tony just had an uncanny knack for knowing when to hold his hand and when to back off. Tony would drag Bucky down to his lab and plunk him down amongst the mess and make him sorts nuts and bolts into drawers. It had infuriated Steve until he realized that the order soothed Bucky, helped him think.

Tony dragged them out on tours of New York, to all the best and the absolute worst restaurants in the city. “You’ve got cast-iron stomachs, you can handle it,” he’d laugh when Steve and Bucky would complain. And Steve was grateful that Tony had gotten Bucky out and about, grateful that he could see his soulmate in the sun, but part of him also resented it.

It was only that he recognized the way Tony looked at Bucky. Because it was the same way Steve did. It was the same look Steve saw everytime he glanced at a mirror. And he didn’t know how to feel about that. Sure, he had never told Tony, anyone, about his soulmark, but Tony had to know, didn’t he? Steve had moved heaven and earth to get Bucky back, he had never given up, gone weeks without sleep to bring him home. Surely Tony wasn’t that oblivious?

“You should tell him,” Natasha advised when he went to her. “Tony is that oblivious. If you don’t, I will. He follows Barnes around like a puppy, Steve, it’s not good. You’re all going to get hurt.”

“Who’s going to get hurt?” Clint asked, coming into the kitchen and opening the fridge to grab the milk.

“Tony.”

Clint’s face screwed up in a frown. “Seriously, I’m starting to think he’s doing it on purpose. You and Barnes are literally made for each other, no way he doesn’t know. Soulmates are - you don’t get between soulmates.” Steve’s eyes flickered down to the ‘Phillip Coulson’ written on Clint’s wrist. “He’s being an ass, is what it is. You want me to talk to him, Cap?”

“Steve should talk to him,” Natasha interjected, looking at Steve meaningfully before getting up and leaving. Clint watched her go and then turned to Steve with a dark look.

“Look, I’ll set him straight, Cap. You go be with your soulmate. You gotta cherish every moment while you still got it.”

Steve hesitated, uneasy about the entire situation. What if this pushed Tony away? Tony had been so good for Bucky - Steve wasn’t always capable of dealing with the person Bucky had become, too wrapped up in what they used to be, but Tony seemed to know what this Bucky needed before he even needed it sometimes. Steve didn’t want to ruin that, not when they both were doing better than they ever were before.

But, no. He had to think better of Tony than that. Tony was a good man, and a lonely one. Steve completely understood the appeal of Bucky Barnes, but Tony would get past this.

He headed upstairs to the floor he shared with Bucky. They weren’t back to sharing a bed yet, but Steve felt comfortable walking into Bucky’s room and laying down beside him while he read.

“Something wrong, punk? You got that constipated look you always get when you’re unsure about something.”

Steve punched at his arm. “Jerk. Nah, it’s nothing. I just-” He trailed off, looking down at his wrist band. He had been hiding it for so long. Out of fear, then out of grief, and now out of habit. He had nothing to hide anymore. Bucky was his soulmate. His always.

“You just?” Bucky asked, and when Steve looked back Bucky was gazing down at him, that old well-worn look in his eyes that Steve loved so much.

“I wanna take ‘em off,” Steve said, snapping at his band. Bucky’s eyes followed the movement and lit up.

He leaned forward to kiss Steve on the mouth. “I’m game if you are.”

Six months ago he would have gotten Tony drunk to do this conversation. But five months ago Tony stopped drinking, coincidentally at the same time Bucky Barnes came to the Tower.

Tony got sober. Tony came up to socialize. Tony slept, Tony ate. Tony took care of himself, and even managed to take care of Bucky, too.

If Clint weren’t so mad at the guy, he’d feel damn sorry about doing this. Because with Bucky around, Tony had gotten better.

But soulmates? You don’t mess with soulmates. You don’t get in between two halves of the same heart; that was just cruel. And Tony might pretend to be socially inept to get out of whatever gala Pepper wanted to drag him to that month, but he was almost as good at reading people as Natasha was. Steve was his best friend. He had to know what he was doing to the guy, blatantly going after his soulmate like that. The soulmate that Steve had watched fall of a fucking train, the soulmate that had been tortured and brainwashed by HYDRA.

Bucky needed stability right now. He needed the feeling of completeness and finality that only a soulbond could provide. Clint knew from experience. Pulling himself out of the nightmare that was Loki’s meddling had been a nightmare without Phil.

God, now Clint needed a drink.

The point was, soulmates should never be torn apart. Not by death, not by time, not by megalomaniac Gods, and not by narcissistic genius with the emotional quotient of a teaspoon.

As if summoned by negative thoughts, Tony appeared in the living room, surreptitiously looking around. For Bucky, Clint figured.

“Promise me you’ll be chill,” Sam whispered urgently. He had insisted being here when he caught wind of Clint’s plan, to ‘defuse the situation if need be.’ Clint thought it was unnecessary. He wasn’t going to pull any punches, Tony wouldn’t appreciate that. He was gonna give it to him straight and true.

Tony saw them looking, quirked an eyebrow, and sauntered over. “The arrows give you trouble, Katniss?”

“We need to talk.” Tony stopped in his tracks, looking between the two of them, and then slowly nodded, making a gesture for Clint to go on. “You need to leave Steve and Bucky alone.”

“Steve and...Bucky?” Tony asked, glancing at Sam for guidance.

Clint leaned forward to draw his attention back. “Look, we all see the way you look at Buck, and it’s not okay, Stark.”

“What’s wrong with the way I look at Bucky?” Tony’s hand went to his left wrist, where his customary black band covered his soulmark. “Did he say something? I know I can be a bit...much.”

And Tony looked so hurt and earnest that second doubts began to creep into Clint’s mind. Natasha had always said emotions had to be shoved in Tony’s face. “Tony,” he said, voice softening. “Steve and Bucky are soulmates. You do know that, right?”

Tony went still as a statue. “What?”

Clint looked at Sam, who nodded and shifted forward, taking the reigns. “Bucky is Steve’s soulmate. Always has been. And you’ve been so helpful, and they both adore you, but you’re starting to - overstep, a little.”

“Overstep,” Tony repeated faintly.With his right hand he dragged his left wrist over his heart and held it there. Pulse against pulse. Clint knew that trick; it was a textbook coping mechanism for those that had lost their soulmate. No one knew why it worked, but feeling a heartbeat next to your soulmark made everything not feel so lonely. He’d woken up in that same position several times after Phil died. “Why did - why didn’t Steve say anything?”

“I don’t think.” Sam paused, searching for words. “He hid it for so long, back in his time. I don’t know if he knows how to say it. He thought you would know. You two are so close.” For some reason that made Tony flinch hard and Sam rushed to reassure him. “No one’s mad, Tony. Just maybe take a few steps back. Give them some room. Just...be their friend.”

“Their friend,” Tony echoed again. Clint had never seen the man so lost for words. “Because they’re soulmates, so they’re like one entity. Complete. My mom always told me-”

He stopped, closed his eyes, and let his wrist drop. He looked, for a moment, like a puppet with its strings cut. Lifeless.

“I thought you knew, man,” Clint said quietly, because God, did he feel like a jackass now. Tony clearly did not know. “I’m sorry I came on so strong it’s just - soulmates are special, you know?” Sam kicked at him; once again, no, Tony did not know.

Clint watched as Tony visibly pulled himself together, pasting on a little smirk. “No, it’s cool. It’s good to know before I - well, I - I can’t come between that. Thanks for cluing me in, birdbrains.” Tony turned away, heading for the door to the kitchen.

Later when Clint went looking he found one of the liquor bottles missing from the cabinet and wondered how disappointed in him Phil would be.

Sam watched Tony's face carefully as Steve emerged from the elevator with Bucky, their right wrists uncovered for the first time.

JAMES BARNES Steve’s read, in the clear blocky print that Bucky sometimes slipped into on his better days. STEVE ROGERS, read Bucky's in Steve's messy cursive.

Sam brightened at the sight, damn proud of both of them. Tony's jaw clenched tightly but other than that he didn't respond, and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm such an idiot," Tony said under his breath. Sam allowed himself a small smile. He wasn't usually a fan of Tony's level of self-deprecation but in this case it was a sign that Tony was accepting things, that everything could be normal, no hard feelings.

"Only a little," he said, nudging Tony playfully. "But it's understandable." Neither of them looked down at the wristband hiding Tony's soulmate. Sam felt for the man, he did. Everyone deserved to meet their soulmate, but Tony was approaching forty-five and there was still no sign of them. Whoever they were, Sam hoped they got their asses in gear and weren't dumb enough to listen to whatever the media said about Tony. "Hey. You'll meet them. You've waited this long right? I promise once you do, it'll be worth it."

Tony looked at him and for a moment he looked so lost, so devastated, that a low swoop of dread filled Sam's stomach. He'd seen that looked before, on soldiers who made it back only to find their home was gone. Some of them never found it again.

Then the moment passed, and Tony smiled tremulously. "I've always heard soulmates were a wonderful thing."

“They are,” Sam reassured him, thinking of Layla Simmons, stationed over in China, waiting for him to call on Skype soon.

Steve and Bucky make their way over to the couch, holding hands, both looking apprehensively at Tony. The billionaire took one look at Steve's wrist, one look at Bucky, and chuckled. "So, it's always been you two against the world. All alone."

"Yeah," Steve said softly. Bucky was focusing intently on Tony, watching every minute twitch of his face, but beyond the slightly bitter tone of his voice, Tony was completely calm.

"Well," he said, standing to clap Steve on the shoulder. "Not anymore. You've got all of us supporting you no matter what. I'm proud of you, Steve."

Sam knew he was not imagining the relief on Steve's face. He had been so worried after Clint told him about the intervention in the kitchen; Tony's friendship was important to him. To both of them. "Thanks, Tony."

"And I'm sorry-" Tony faltered, his eyes going distant and vague before a tiny, full-body shudder went through him. "If I've been a bit over-bearing and ah, oblivious. I've been told I have that problem. Selfish." Bucky opened his mouth to speak but Tony was barreling forward. "You two-"

For the first time he looked at Bucky, and that inexplicable dread rose up in Sam's gut again as the light in Tony's eyes flickered out. "You deserve to be happy."

Bucky rubbed at his left metal wrist, a nervous habit Sam had noticed he'd picked up since arriving at the Tower, and nodded. "Thanks. 'M not sure about deserving but-" He looked at Steve and smiled, heartbreakingly hopeful. "I am lucky."

Tony's responding smile was all wrong, distorting his face into something alien. He wagged a finger at Bucky. "Don't take it for granted." His voice was all over the place and Tony began stepping backwards. Sam tensed, ready to step in if Steve's brand of mother-henning prevented Tony from saving some face but they all watched as Tony turned neatly and made his way to the elevator, calling for JARVIS to take him to the lab.

"He'll be alright," Sam told them both when they looked worried enough to follow him. "He's hurt, and probably a little embarrassed. Just give him some time."

Steve nodded and sat down to watch some TV, but for a long moment Bucky remained standing, watching the elevator as if waiting for Tony to come back.

JARVIS watched his creator stumble into the lab, holding his left wrist to his chest. He was crying. JARVIS did not have any previous recordings of Sir crying.

Something was very wrong.

“Can I help you, sir?” he asked, and Tony responded with a laugh, lasting two seconds longer and two decibels higher than the average of his past instances of real laughter. “Sir?”

Tony made his way to the table where his main computer was kept and sat, swaying in a similar manner to previous instances of Sir being inebriated, but JARVIS knew he didn’t do that anymore, had stopped shortly after learning Sergeant Barnes was coming to live in the Tower.

Sir laid his arm out on the table, his wrist - his bare wrist - facing up. JARVIS analyzed the handwriting there in an instant, a thousand if/then statements colliding to form a very distressing conclusion.

“Did you know,” Sir said in a hoarse voice. “That my mother once told soulmates carry around pieces of each other? That way they’re never alone. Not even death can stop that. No matter where they are, no matter what you’ve done, you’ve got somebody who loves you. Always. That’s what a soulmate is.” Sir laughed again, reaching down for the liquor bottle he had brought in from the kitchen earlier, the one he had yet to crack. He did now, taking a long sip before JARVIS could even begin the sequence to remind him of his pledge to stay sober as long as Sergeant Barnes needed him.

“Oh God, I thought I was going to be happy. Can you imagine, J? What a fucking joke. I should have known. Dad did. Said the mark was a fucking mistake. He always did know best.” Tony held up the bottle in some form of a salute.

JARVIS remained silent. For all that Sir had given him room to grow, he was still a machine. He didn’t know how to respond to this. For awhile he simply watched Sir drink, and quietly mourned along with him a future they that was lost to them now.

“I thought he loved me,” Sir whispered. “All that time, I thought he loved me. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. No one could.”

He drank.

“Hey, J,” Tony said some time later, only slurring a little. The cameras couldn’t fully capture his expression, his head tilted into shadows, but he was staring at the mark on his wrist again. “Fire up the soldering iron.”

Natasha helped Thor tear Tony out of his armor, piece by piece, cursing him all the while. “Дурак!” she spat, tossing one of the gauntlets aside as Thor worked on the legs. Steve was going to have to bench him after this stunt for certain; he’d have no choice. Tony had always been reckless but this was borderline suicidal.

What had changed, she wondered in the back of her mind. Tony had been doing so well, all of them meshing well, living together at the Tower. Barnes coming back had made it even better, slotting neatly into their little circle, and though Tony’s obvious crush on him was doomed to go nowhere, surely that wasn’t enough to send Tony into this kind of tailspin.

She didn’t even realized the band that hid Tony’s soulmark had broken off until she was staring at the skin of Tony’s left wrist, mottled by a deep burn. A very recent burn, the scar a very bright pink. If there had been a name under there, it was gone now.

The pieces fell into place very quickly after that.

“Oh.” The small, simple word fell out of her mouth like a stone. “Oh, Tony.”

It felt weird to be sitting around drinking while Tony was in the hospital, but the nurses had chased them out hours ago and after a battle like that, they all needed to unwind. They left Bruce at the hospital, and their phones were all at the ready, but the environment had relaxed just a little.

Bucky didn’t know that he could follow suit, though. He kept seeing Tony diving into that explosion over and over. What had he been thinking?

That had been a common thought these past few weeks, as Tony withdrew further and further from the team for no apparent reason. He’d overheard Clint telling Steve that he had advised Tony to back off a little and honestly, that still kind of bothered Bucky; everyone had been so worried about the attention Tony was paying him but Bucky liked it. He liked that Tony never treated him like he was fragile, he liked being the center of Tony's world and he liked making Tony the center of his if only for a brief time, because it always made Tony smile and Tony should always be smiling.

There hadn't been a need to confront him; Tony was smart and would realize his crush had a soulmate and they would ease into being friends. But he also knew it bothered Steve so he didn't say anything. Tear the bandaid off quicker, he supposed. He didn’t know Tony would take it this seriously.

Gone were the movie nights catching him and Steve up on modern cinema, or the weekly Wednesday tours to the weird hole-in-the-wall joints dotted across New York City. No more sitting in the lab watching him tinker. No more random spurts of Italian desserts filling his fridge. No more Tony, period.

It hurt, and it also irritated him a little. Just because he didn’t want Tony didn’t mean he wanted Tony gone. He missed him, like a physical ache, like cold in his bones. Steve said that Tony wasn’t very in touch with his feelings and didn’t handle rejection well, but it had been weeks. Bucky just wanted his friend back.

“So,” Clint suddenly said loudly. He was a bit drunker than the rest, and looking at Natasha. “Heard you two had to take off everything. Even that little band of his. D’you see a name or is he actually a robot?”

“Clint. Dude,” Sam breathed out, annoyed. “Not cool.”

Clint frowned, seemed to internally repeat what he said, and then frowned harder. “No. Wait. I just mean-”

“Shut up,” Natasha snapped. The room froze. She had never spoken like that to Clint before. Bucky wondered if anyone else could see the minute trembling of her fingers. “You don’t know what you’re asking, so be quiet.”

It’s not like Bucky wasn’t curious, too. Whoever was Tony’s soulmate - well, they were damn lucky, and the sooner they realized it the better. They had to know, Tony was on TV three times a week. Tony was brilliant, and funny, and had a mountain of issues and insecurities but wasn’t afraid of pushing through them for the right person.

Tony just needed that right person. Like Steve was for Bucky. Bucky turned towards Steve, sitting beside him, and nuzzled into his neck, finally relaxing when he felt Steve’s hand begin running through his hair.

"Something wrong with the arm?" he asked, and Bucky looked down to where he was rubbing against his metal wrist. It bothered him sometimes, even though there was nothing wrong with it. Like a phantom pain.

"'S nothing," he murmured. Steve kissed his forehead and they settled in closer together.

Everybody deserved a Steve.

He hoped Tony found his soon.

Tony stared down at his wrists as Helen helped him fasten the cufflinks. He was leaving the hospital, finally, two days later than planned, but it had taken awhile to get Helen and her prototype skin-grafting machine here and a little bit longer to convince her to help him.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of his left wrist. Smooth, bare, free of markings. No scars. No names.

No soulmate.

“You’re a life-saver, Helen,” he whispered, and she glared at him before sending him on his way.

He was heading back to the tower now, back to the team, back to the bots and JARVIS, back to him. Except Tony couldn’t go back to him - that would mean that Tony had ever had him in the first place.

Of fucking course you never had him. Who in the hell would deserve to be the other half of you, Stark?

His mother, Jarvis, his friends, they had all told him that soulmates were love, and acceptance, and unconditional. And it had saved Tony’s life more than once to know that he ranked that, even those years when he thought his was dead. He had lived his life dreaming of that kind of bond, that even when he was the scum of the earth, Merchant of Death, he could have that kind of love.

But it wasn’t for Tony. There was no other half. There was no love, no acceptance, no unconditional. There was just him, alone. Like always. Like he deserved.

Still a disappointment, after all this time. Sorry, mom, for single-handedly - ha - ruining your entire philosophy on soulmates.

He should have known from the beginning. He had just been so caught up in, the swelling tide of everything that had been promised to him. Completeness. Serenity. An open heart. He had been so caught up in waiting for that moment when he would finally be loved back that he hadn’t seen there wasn’t anymore love to be given.

There were paparazzi waiting outside, swarming the car where Happy waited for him. Tony, with a practiced smile, threw up a peace sign with his left hand, his sleeve pulling back, and a thousand pictures were taken of his blank wrist.

Tony Stark had no soulmate. It would be front-page news for the next week. He preferred it this way. This was his story, and his alone now. He wasn’t abandoned, unwanted, a cast-off of a failed bond. When future interviewers ask him, he’ll smile and say “I guess I just loved myself enough for two people.”

Tony had burned his heart out of his chest a long time ago. This was just making it official.

He never had a name. It never said James Barnes.

Tony Stark had no soulmate.

#christopherevans #winteriron #song is #i come with knives #by iamx #alanna writes #drabblethon 600 #tony stark #bucky barnes #since this is so delayed #it's more like an actual fic #angst #hurt no comfort #stucky mentioned

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