And Another Thing: No Child Should Ever Be Made Fun Of For Things They Love Especially By Their Parents

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZTdpboa9o/?k=1

Bucky and Gorgeous

Thin Ice

Bucky has a few rules. The most important one is that you always say have to tell your biker you love him before you leave the house. Because 'I love you Bucky' are his four favorite words.

Pairing: Beefy Biker!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of smut, implied overstimulation kink, Biker Bucky being a menace.

A/N: Written on my phone. Based on that tiktok

|Masterlist|Biker Masterlist| Library|

“I’m running to the store, do you need anything?” you ask, walking past Bucky on your way to the front door.

He’s bent over the sink, a thin sheen of sweat on his back makes his colorful back tattoos shimmer as rays of sunlight from the open window stream across his skin, his work pants slung low around his hips as he removes the drain.

“Can you grab me some chips and the one dip I like?”

You sling your purse over your shoulder, putting your keys in your pocket. “Okay, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” he calls out, turning back to the leaky faucet. “Bye Gorgeous, I love you.”

“Bye Bucky,” you respond, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter, quickly closing the door with a soft snick, you jaunt down the steps to the yard. You wonder how long it’s going to take for him to realize you didn't say I love you.

It’s a dangerous game, playing with your boyfriend like this, but you’re having too much to stop.

Bucky cocks his head to the side, putting the wrench on the counter. Anticipating his four favorite words. I love you Bucky. The only other phrases that even come close to making him as happy are yes right there Bucky and don’t stop, m’ close and you can have the last bite and I can’t wait for bike week.

Sure, the last two are more than four words, but he does love hearing you say them.

A second ticks by.

Then another.

His brows hit his hairline when he realizes you actually have the nerve to leave without saying it back.

The hell you will.

“Hold up,” Bucky rushes down the hallway, skidding across the smooth wooden surface. Grabbing the doorknob, he flings it open, blinking as the bright afternoon hits his face.

“Excuse you Gorgeous,” he snaps, the warmth in his blue eyes belies his dark, icy tone. “You forget something?”

You stumble to a quick stop. “Huh?” You say innocently, peering over your shoulder, the stark indignation on his bearded face makes you giggle. Oh, he’s furious.

“Don’t you huh me.” Bucky holds up his ring-adorned hand and gestures for you to come back. "Get your cute ass over here."

Another giggle slips out and you turn towards your towering biker, a smile stretches across your lips as you stroll over to him.

“I. Love. You.” He states emphatically, his eyes focused on your face, daring you to keep playing with him.

“I love you too,” you tell him when you reach the steps.

“Thank you.” He glares down at you, plush lips twitching as he tries to maintain his stern expression. “And?”

“Uh...” You drag out the word, knowing it's going to push him over the edge.

It does.

“You’re on thin ice, gorgeous, real thin ice.” Bucky takes you by the waist and walks you into the side of the house, his hand cupping the back of your head before it hits the dusty red brick.

You love the way he manhandles you with just the right amount of tender possessiveness that makes your knees weak and your heart race.

"You know what I want." He pins you against the wall with his heavy weight, leaning his entire tattooed body on yours, and stares down at you expectantly. “You broke the rules Gorgeous. So pay up.”

A few nights after the first time he told you he loved you, Bucky swore he would never go a day without saying it to you and you made the same vow without hesitation because you could spend your life proclaiming your love for this man. The rules are something the two of you came up with after a few drinks while on a date. The mostly consist of ways for him to get at pretty girl. Not that you mind.

“Bucky, I thought that was a joke,” you tease, gazing up at him.

Bucky instantly melts into your touch, the second your lips brush against his. A moan, his, maybe yours, floats between you, his soft, chapped lips parting. He takes your hands and places them above your head, his hips grinding into yours, turning the kiss into something wild and passionate. Your tongue slips into his mouth, tasting the sweet blueberries muffin and coffee he had for breakfast. When you pull back to bite down on his lower lip, he shivers. Only you can make him do that.

His sharp gasp is followed by what you can only describe as an animalist growl, and God does it sound so damn erotic, you feel the deep rumble wind it's way down your spine, warmth blooming in your veins. Before he can open his mouth, you’re leaning up on your tiptoes, clasping your hands behind his neck and pulling him down so you can pay up.

“God damn I love you, gimme one more,” he groans, his hand drifts down to your throat and he pushes your chin up with his thumb, claiming your mouth, his lips slotting over yours, deepening the kiss until all you feel are his soft lips on yours, taking every piece of you, claiming you.

And he’s giving you all of him, the vibrant promise to always love you is there with every caress of his hands, with every sigh of your name on his lips, with every adoring glance.

He finally breaks away, nodding to himself. “That’s more like it.”

Releasing your hands, he smirks as you slump against the wall, panting heavily.

He takes a step back, tucking his knuckle under your chin, gently pushing your face up until you’re gazing into his blue eyes, darkened with a heady desire and unbidden adoration. “Love ya Gorgeous.”

“Love you too,” you say with a smile.

“That’s better. I'll never get tired of you saying that." He playfully raises his brows, his smirk widening. “So can I tell my pretty girl I love her too?”

You let out a light laugh, reaching up to nip at his chin. “Of course, you can,” you start, swatting his hand when he reaches for her. “Later, after I finish shopping.”

“Fine,” he grumbles. “I need to fix the sink anyway.” He glances down at your thighs, toying with the zipper on your shorts. “But when you get back, I want at least two hours with my pretty girl to make up for what you did to me.”

Of course, he does, you think, honestly, you expect nothing less from your insatiable, needy biker. You give him one more kiss. “Bucky, you can have as much time with her as you want.”

“As much time as I want?” He repeats, planting his hands by your head, a mischievous glimmer flashing across his blue eyes.

Bucky gives you a pointed look as he’s suddenly reminded of his other four favorite words.

I can’t come again. Oh god, please Bucky.

Bucky waits until you realize what you just promised him, your eyes widening slowly and he chuckles. “If you insist Gorgeous. Just remember what you said when I have your thighs wrapped around my head all night.”

You can't think of a better way to spend your Friday night.

i NEEDS pt 2 😋😋

☆彡 𝐄𝐗 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐌 ミ★

Characters included — Ex! Connie, Ony x reader— eren, armin, jean, and marco are mentioned

Gingers notes — y’all this might need a part two cause i don’t knowwww, i want ony and connie rn, i’ll proofread this later after i done doing a few drabbles or something cause y’all already know i’m lazy

Content warning — X Black fem reader, Ony being sexy, Connie being jealous, weed mentioned, partying, guns, cursing, use of the n word, threats, you know the vibes tell me if i missed anything

Summer is right around the corner, fuck you look like chasing after a nigga? That’s what you told yourself for the two weeks you and connie had broken up. That’s what you told yourself for months, as you stayed in the house, ignoring your calls from your friends— and even disappeared off of social media for the time being.

You didn’t understand why you were so pent up on a relationship that you knew wasn’t any good— Connie was always forgetting about you and staying out late hours into the night, only to come back in the morning with gifts so you didn’t get mad at the inconvenience. You were always hiding stuff from connie, whether that was your plans for your night, or maybe even who you were up all night talking on the phone with, Small shit.

The arguments you two held weren’t any better either, the issues were never resolved and only put on hold while you and connie fucked your frustrations away.

The relationship wasn’t no good, and you knew that— but for those two months, you missed him so much. That was till you got a text from your friend— a screenshot of connie’s story. Him hugged up with a girl that clearly was a you wannabe. And your friend message underneath it reading:

‘stop that moping shit fr’

And that honestly was all you needed to see before you got your shit together. You rather be standing on your last leg, than have Connie enjoying this break up while you were suffering.

And when the heat was settled and the sun was blazing outside, you were out there. You wanted to be seen, at every kickback that you were invited to, every club you got in for free— even being backstage at a few concerts. Summer wouldn’t have to owe you shit once you were done, you promised yourself that.

But of course, with every story post, there was viewers— though you had connie blocked on all your socials, his friends definitely was sending him every other post. He tried to be cool about it, pretended that he didn’t care— especially when his “girlfriend” asked what he was looking at on his phone. Even when he wanted to reply with ‘My bitch’ he shrugged it off and always said nothing.

But he made a silent promise to himself, that whenever you two see each other again, he would deal with you.

And you were clueless, as you brushed through the curls of your ginger wig, checking your phone to check the time before standing up from your vanity, grabbing your keys and your purse. Leaving the house to hop in the driver seat of your car.

Outdoor parties were okay, you only went when you knew your friends we’re gonna be there too— only for y’all to sit on the roof of your car most of the night with cups in hand and weed in your system. It was chill. But this one was different, you had been personally invited by the host, a ole friend of yours and connie’s, Eren. You were honestly gonna decline but when the groupchat said it sounded like it would be fun, you accepted and told him you and your girls were gonna slide.

As you pulled up, You noticed just how packed it really was, most of the street was flooded with cars— ranging from Challengers, hellcats— some kia’s and even a few fords. You were lucky to get a spot close enough to the actual party.

Immediately as you were walking through the sea of people you were looking for the host and your friends, to let them know you there. But stopping in your tracks as you heard your name being called out, turning around see armin and eren waving you over. With a smile of your face you approached.

“What’s up stranger— haven’t seen you in a minute.” Eren said draping his arm over your shoulders pulling you into a hug before pressing a chaste kiss on your forehead as you laughed as you gave armin a hug too “I’ve been busy, you know this.” You said smoothing your hands on your outfit to which you don’t notice eren or armin staring at. Everyone knew you didn’t shy away from revealing clothes, but the males couldn’t help but mentally state just how fine you looked

“Come on, i want you to meet some of the guys.” Eren said wrapping his arm around your waist after dragging himself out of his thoughts while leading you deeper into the party into the backyard, which had a pool that was full of girls and guys alike. Including your friends to which you waved at. Before sitting next to eren on one of the lounge chairs as he called over his homeboys.

Now that he introduced you, you now know their names are Jean, Reiner, and Marco. Jean you knew, he was a close friend to connie, always stopping by the house for a few hours and playing the game with him while they smoked or whatever. “And there’s— where he at?” Eren said while looking around before cuffing his hand on the side of his mouth to call his friend “there he is, Ony!” he said while you turned your head just in time to see who he was talking about.

You should be embarrassed the way your thighs instinctively pressed together at the sight. What you saw, was a dark skin man pulling himself out of the pool, the chain that adored his neck seemed to only make the scene even better as the water droplets from the pool trailed down his neck down this chest and lower. He was tall— and built like he went to the gym every other day and he religiously went on runs. His swim shorts hung low on his waist, and you thought your breath was caught in your throat as he approached the small group. Eren standing up to dap up the man.

“Yo, Ony, i wanted you to meet my home girl, this y/n.” Eren said bringing the attention back to you, and you almost thought you were gonna pass out when you made eye contact with his brown eyes “Wassup.” was all he said and you saw it, the gold grills that adored his teeth, you felt like you would have to jump into the pool to cool down. This man is too fine you almost felt like you were on cloud 9 just from looking at him.

You had to look away and pretend like you didn’t care before nodding your head at him as a silent “Hey” left your lips, he chuckled lowly as he reached over grabbing something from the nearby table and putting it in the pockets of his swim trunks “You too cool to look me in the eyes or sum ma?” You haven’t heard anyone call you that since connie— but it sounded so good coming from his lips as you looked over at the stranger “Nah, i can just already tell you a problem.” You said which earned a smirk from him before he offered his hand to you, and you happily took it as you stood up, those same brown eyes trailing down your outfit “Lemme take her off y’all hands for a second.” Ony said before the group could even answer he was, you thought, leading you back towards the front, but instead stopping at the side of the house.

As you leaned against the wall, he towered over you, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes raking over your form— you were stunning, from your brown thighs that looked soft to the touch, to your breast that were sitting oh so nicely in your top giving him a nice view, all the way to your face, full lips adored with brown lip liner and gloss paired with your mink lashes that fluttered whenever you blinked. You were so damn pretty.

“You connie ole girl ain’t it?” He asked as you rolled your eyes smacking your lips together softly at your exes name, “Yeah, ole girl. We ain’t together no more— ain’t been together for months.” You said eagerly to end that assumption that you and him were still together. “Knew it was yo fine ass not gon lie.” He chuckled and shook his head, “What? You one of his homeboys or sum?” You asked, cause you told yourself you wouldn’t homie hop in his friend-group— but for the man in front of you, you might make an exception. “Sum like that.” Was all you needed to hear. This nigga ain’t loyal to his homeboys.

You didn’t even have time to register ony had took steps closer to you, and his hand was pressed against the wall behind you next to your head. “I knew he was goofy, but letting a dime piece like you go, that shit unheard of.” Ony said leaning in closer to you. You thought he was gonna kiss you, you were hoping he was gonna kiss you— feeling his plush lips against your own sticky ones didn’t sound bad at all. He smelled good too, pulling you into his seduction faster than you could even imagine.

He was a breath away, lips ghosting against your own, just before you could close the small gap of space between you two— the sounds of gun shots were in the air and people were running. But it seemed both of y’all were more annoyed than fearful.

Ony looked at you for a second before cursing under his breath, grabbing you arm guiding you through the scene of people, leading you to what you assumed to be his car while his other hand gripped on his gun— protection. He unlocked the passenger door of his all black tinted window benz for you, and told you to lock it after he left.

He left you in his car, as he went to go find out who ruined his moment, you sat in the passenger seat heated cause of the interruption and horny from just how fast Ony moved to ensure you were safe, all you could do was pull your phone out of your purse and turn it on— immediately noticing the multiple missed calls from, ‘No Caller ID’ and even more unread messages from “Maybe: Conniebae 🧡🧡”. You could only scoff as you read through them.

‘Y/n bruh’

‘ik yo ass at this party’

‘you childish asf omm’

‘jean just told me you sneaking around with my hb’

‘tf wrong with yo ass cuh’

‘ you tryna get bro killed ong’

‘now you can’t answer text? fasho’

‘i gotchu bruh’

‘bet.’

It didn’t take a genius to find out who started to shoot at the party after reading your text, and that frustrated you, he had no right to be angry, y’all weren’t together anymore . To make it worse as you looked back down at your phone to reread the messages once again, you saw those three dots appear on your screen before a few more messages popped up.

‘get yo ass to the house now.’

‘leave bro there or i’ll spin the block again’

‘this time i wont miss’

‘and yk i ain’t playing’

By all means enjoy porn, enjoy nudes, enjoy sexual jokes. But consent, manners and treating humans with respect still applies to everyone folks

(Poly 141 x fem reader)

You had always been their sweetheart.

Soft, tender, and gentle- the heart of their home. The warmth in the spaces between them, the one they curled around after long days of violence, soothed by your touch and your voice, the way you cared for them without hesitation. No matter how much blood stained their hands, no matter what nightmares haunted their sleep, you were there. Unshaken. Unyielding in your love, hands gentle and soft as you cradled them close and warm.

So they had never needed to know about the things you kept buried.

The past you refused to unearth. The things you could do, the person you had been before them- before you had a home to call your own, before you had people who held you just as carefully as you held them.

They didn’t need to know, and you didn’t need to think about it.

Until they went missing.

You first learned something was wrong when John’s daily check-in didn’t come.

It had always been a habit of his, something he did without fail, no matter how far away he was. Just to let you know I’m breathing, love. That was what he had said, years ago, the first time he had explained it to you. You had teased him for it- What, you don’t trust me to not burn the house down?- but he had only smiled, voice steady and sure when he told you, I like knowing you’re safe.

It had never failed. Not once. Even when he himself could not text you, Lasswell herself assured you they were fine and merely had to be careful.

But now came the silence.

No messages. No calls. No updates.

You tried not to panic. They were on a mission, after all. Maybe something had gone wrong with their comms, or maybe they had been forced to go dark, and Lasswell was busy. It had happened before, and they had always come back to you, whole and alive, pressing their faces into your neck, murmuring apologies and reassurances.

But then a full week passed.

Then two.

And no one would tell you a thing and Lasswell wasn’t picking up, either.

You had tried- had called, had knocked on doors, had pushed until you were met with polite deflections and stone-cold refusals.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that information is classified.”

“There’s nothing we can share at this time.”

“We appreciate your patience.”

Patience.

As if you would sit here, helpless, and just wait. Hopeless, and helpless, and unable to do a single thing to help then.

No. No, you had done that before. You had waited before. And it had cost you everything.

You weren’t that girl anymore. You weren’t a victim of circumstance, hoping for scraps of kindness, praying for someone to do right by you.

If no one would help, you would do it yourself; because they were yours, and they were the best thing that have ever happened to you, and you weren’t going to lose them.

Tracking them down was easier than you expected.

You had spent years curating the image of someone soft and harmless, someone not worth keeping secrets from. And people loved to talk. Especially when they thought you were just a grieving, desperate woman trying to find a lost fiancé and his friends.

All it had taken was a few well-placed words, a few tearful looks, and doors had opened.

It had taken only days to pinpoint their last known location, then. After you’d hunted down Laswell, and had her help you. Though you were glad to see that she was working to find out where they were, as well, and merely lacked the manpower because of some general named Shepherd.

You filed the name away for later thoughts.

A warlord with connections to arms smuggling in Eastern Europe. An old base, abandoned by one regime and taken over by another. And your men had been sent in to dismantle it.

But they hadn’t come back. MIA, the reports said.

You didn’t think. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t care for those three letters. You moved.

You gathered supplies, mapped out your route, planned your approach with the precision of someone who had done it before. You emptied old caches, dusted off weapons you hadn’t touched in years, and set off.

The infiltration was clean; a single shadow among many, slipping between patrols, cutting down obstacles with silent, brutal efficiency. Years it may have been, you hadn’t gotten as rusty as you’d feared you’d be.

You had never been squeamish. You had learned long ago that softness had no place in survival- but it could thrive and bloom in the aftermath, a stubborn weed that eventually makes way for a full bouquet.

But this was different.

This was fury burning in your blood as you carved a path forward, every movement precise- you couldn’t afford any less.

You didn’t stop, no matter what.

Not until you found them at last, and your heart ached something fierce abd sharp in your chest.

Caged. Beaten. Bound but not broken- and drugged.

I should have been more rough, you mourn for a split second. An easy death was more mercy than what was deserved.

John’s head lifted first, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Love-?”

Then Simon, bloodied but breathing, his body sluggish with whatever chemicals they had pumped into him. Every part of him was covered in blood and cuts.

Johnny’s voice, then, hoarse and raw, full of disbelief and worry. “No. No, you’re not- this insnae real-“

And Kyle, whose breath hitched as you knelt beside him, gentle fingers brushing against his bruised face.

They thought they were dreaming; they thought you weren’t real.

And maybe that was a… mercy.

Because if they had been clear-headed, if they had seen what you had done to get here, if they had watched the way you had cut down anyone in your path with merciless efficiency-

They would have looked at you differently.

And you couldn’t bear that. To have their illusion of your gentleness shattered like that…

So you played along.

Whispered reassurances, pressed kisses to sweat-damp foreheads, untied their bindings with careful hands. You coaxed them to move, guided them through the corridors you’d emptied, wiped away the blood that dripped from their skinz

And when they sagged against you, too dazed to fight, too lost in the haze of their drugged delirium, you held them-

Kept them safe, and brought them home.

Later, they woke in a hospital, clean and stitched and safe.

You were already there, fussing over them, your voice soft and sweet, your fingers gentle as you pressed cool cloths to fever-warm skin, brushed stray curls from foreheads, adjusted pillows and blankets with quiet determination. Dressed in something white and pink, the colors of innocence, nails cleaned of blood even if your hands will never be truly clean.

You looked the same as ever.

Pretty and delicate, their lovely girl, their tender-hearted sweetheart.

And for all that had happened, all that they had suffered, all that you had done-

They never suspected a single thing, and you didn’t tell them; didn’t tell them that there had been no extraction team. That there had been no grand military rescue- not even from the the same military that had abandoned them.

(His name was General Shepherd. You will not forget it- you’d need to carve his name on the bullet you’ll save just for him, after all.)

That it had been you.

Only you.

Only Laswell knew the truth, and she would keep your secret because she understood what it meant to protect the people you loved.

And if you had to carry this weight alone to keep them from ever looking at you like you were something other-

So be it.

You sat beside John, pressing a kiss to his temple as his fingers curled weakly around yours.

You smiled at Simon when his hand brushed against your knee, seeking reassurance, seeking you, his eyes tired.

You let Johnny hold you, his arms tight around your waist as he mumbled something unintelligible against your shoulder, still half-lost in the remnants of the drugs.

And when Kyle murmured: “At leas’ you’re safe, pretty.” His voice thick with sleep-

You just smiled and ran your fingers carefully through his hair, and held them the way you always had.

And pretended that everything was exactly the same.

Simon is aware of his size.

Ever since he’d shot up a foot and began towering over his teachers in school, he’d grown used to the surprised looks and stares that sometimes followed his large stature.

It wasn’t something that bothered him. Honestly, it came with too many advantages for him to care whether it led to more eyes on him in public spaces or having to duck through shorter entry ways.

It wasn’t something he spent much time thinking about either. He was just tall, all there was to it.

Until you came into his life.

Until suddenly the size difference between you two wasn’t just something that wandering eyes would notice, but apparently something to be envied.

He notices the way other women keep stealing glances over at the two of you, as Simon effortlessly lifts you in his arms, sometimes holding you up against a large muscular shoulder, as you reach to pick the best looking apples off the branches at the orchard. Those women are fidgeting with their baskets as their partners attempt to climb short ladders and shake loose some of the fruit, unaware to the way their ladies are all imagining what it would be like to be in your place right now.

He notices the way a young woman in the grocery store blatantly stares at the way he casually plucks the jar off the very top shelf that you had been straining on tip toes to reach. He drops it into your shopping cart with a smile, watching as the woman’s gaze shifts to the difference in your hands as he interlocks his fingers through yours.

Even you can’t help but to notice the way a group of mums giggle and swoon as your mountain of a man casually untangles the bunch of balloons that had gotten caught in a tree, returning it to the young boy who was celebrating his birthday party in the park you two had been strolling through.

Oh yes, Simon’s large size came with an endless list of advantages.

But the very best parts of his stature, the toe-curling, heart-racing, slick producing advantages to his size, well, those were kept between you, him, and your bedsheets.

“Magic Doesn’t Pay the Bills”: Walt Disney World Workers March Near Park, Demand “A Fair Wage”

The Services Trades Council Union (STCU), which is a coalition of six unions representing close to 42,000 WDW cast members, is negotiating a new contract with Disney this week. The old agreement , which expired October 1, raised the minimum wage from $10 to $15.

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Hello! I noticed that you’ve been liking my work 🥰 I’m glad you’re enjoying them!

So sorry for the late reply but of course of course. Your writing is truly amazing and I've fallen in love. Thank you and I hope you continue 😘😘😘

ok simon and his mail order bride live rent-free in my head now and, like, what i wanna know is what their anniversaries look like? not just their one year anniversary, but also their fifth or tenth? how does it change as they settle into that deep comfortability that comes with being with someone a long time? -391780

this piece i still consider canon mail-order bride, but i see it almost as an extra than a continuation of the current story since it is very much in the future of that timeline. <3

mail-order bride

it's difficult to see the potential of something so mangled. sometimes things are so worn out and so used that they don't reflect what their purpose was. instead of function, they see flaw. instead of value, they see waste.

sometimes you wonder if that's what they saw in you. sometimes you wonder if that's why you were given to him.

that's what they made him. simon was a tortured dog they let loose. they saw value, but only what was left, and perhaps they thought something like you might help them squeeze just that little bit more out of him. one more year. one more op.

the sunlight wakes you up. you forgot to pull the blinds, but when you see simon sleeping peacefully next to you, it's worth it to be up so early. you know as soon as you move, he will wake, so you keep still for just a few more minutes.

today marks ten. he doesn't look much older. he seems to have stopped aging ever since you asked him to put in his papers.

like always, as soon as you sit up, simon blinks awake. he's bleary, but conscious, and when your eyes meet, you smile at him. he lifts his big hand and rubs your back gently. you don't speak any words so early in the morning, but you don't have to. there isn't much to say when the love of your life loves you, and you love them back.

you push the blankets off, giggling when you reveal the black and orange balls of fur that blink up at you. they almost seem irritated that you interrupted their sleep, snuggled in the heat that simon radiated. they'll just have to deal with it.

you drag your hand down simon's leg wordlessly. you hear his deep breaths from behind, and you reach into your bedside table to press a little balm into your hand before spreading the ointment across his knee and under it. you work it into the muscles nice and slow; any faster, and simon will hitch his breath in pain, and you'll have to start over.

you kiss his knee before laying back down, settling into his side, and you lift up your left hand, wiggling your fingers knowingly at him before looking up towards his face. he smiles down at you sleepily, raising his hand to cup your fingers.

"still love me?" you ask softly, and simon pretends to think about.

"mmm..." he rumbles. "still love ya."

"but do you still like me?"

"more everyday."

the first few years were spent trying to play catch-up. fancy dinners, expensive gifts, handwritten letters that could've been novels to try and stuff the love you have for each other all in one night. they were all wonderful; you think about those nights all the time, and you cherish the gifts he's given you like they are a part of you, but today feels different.

today might not be just another day, but it's just as special as yesterday. and the day before that. and the day before that.

when it's time to really wake up, you let simon guide you. he walks easy, barely a limp, and he sits you down at your vanity to help you do your hair as you add your serums and moisturizers. he's good with that brush, running it through gently, parting your hair the way you like so he can tie it up. he'd braid your hair if you asked him to (he said it wasn't unlike all the knots he knows how to tie--and he meant it, no one dutch braids like him), but you know your show came out last night, and you want to watch them with the scones you have proofing in the fridge.

he makes the coffee and tea while you set the scones in the oven. you fill the cat's bowls while he cleans out the water fountain. it's wordless, the morning routine, but you like the times when you brush by him. when your arm runs against his. when your hands bump going for the same cabinet. when he leans down as he passes you, kissing along your jaw before he keeps walking.

bliss. fucking bliss.

he's waiting for you in the living room once you pull the scones out of the oven. your coffee sits on the table on its coaster, in your favorite mug, and he's under your blanket as he flips through the tv. he already knows what you'll want to watch, and you bite back your smile when you notice him typing it into the search bar because he didn't see it when he scrolled past (you keep telling him to wear his glasses, but he'll never listen).

you take a seat next to him, thumbing at his cheek, and he takes a scone off the plate before biting into it. he smiles when he tastes chocolate, looking at you knowingly, and you reach for his hand as you settle against his chest.

you used to be mangled, too. a mess. pretty on the outside, dying on the inside. all fried wires, a traumatized animal, learned behavior of relieve and appease that kept you out of trouble and out of sight.

you have never seen simon this way. and simon has never seen you this way. no hopeless potential. no wasted space. no diminishing value.

i matter because you matter. you matter because i matter.

hidden, not broken. disguised, not incomplete. you did not have jagged edges, only armor that you tried to put up to protect yourself.

you tip your head back to look up at him, and when he cups your jaw to stare back at you, you're relieved by what you see in his eyes.

ten years. it will be nothing like forever. it will be nothing like your next life, nor like the life after that. it's comforting to know what home looks like. maybe you will recognize it the way you recognized it in this life.

no, that can't be it.

you recognized it because it had already happened. in some other time, in some other place, you were sitting where you sit now, looking at simon the way you look at him now.

you knew who he was before you even met him, and you will know who he is when you meet him again.

being a black girl in fandom sucks sometimes cause like most stuff is written/drawn etc etc from a white skinned woman perspective and that’s literally fine because a lot of people who are writing are in fact white but also it makes it really hard for me and every time i say that people make me feel like shit for having that thought 😕.