pairing: (firefighter) boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x reader
summary: Bucky had been trying to adapt himself to modern world getting a new job at the Fire Department. He only meant to stop by before his shift, but things escalated quickly after you saw him in his uniform.
work count:1.9 k
warnings: +18 MDNI, explicit sexual content, unprotected p in v, uniform kink, dirty talk, oral sex (m and f receiving), light dom Bucky, established relationship, porn with a little bit of plot, roleplay, fingering. | english is not my first language so sorry in advance if I have any mistypos/grammar mistakes.
a/n: this was a request by the lovely @wintersoldier-gal ❤︎ just Bucky wearing uniform and reader losing it.. I hope y'all like it. It was beta read by my girls as always @herejustforbuckybarnes @buckysdecaflove & Denice, lysm!
read in AO3
The knock at your apartment door comes exactly when Bucky said it would. You're still in your work clothes, haven't even kicked off your shoes yet, when you pull the door open. And then you freeze.
"Hey, baby, I—" Bucky starts, but whatever he was going to say dies when he catches the look on your face. "What?"
You can't answer. Can't do anything but stare.
He's in uniform. Full dress uniform. The dark navy button-down stretched across his shoulders, his firefighter badge glinting on his chest, the peaked cap tucked under his arm. His hair is pulled back, neat and professional, and there's something about seeing him like this—squared shoulders, official, heroic—that makes heat pool low in your stomach.
"It's that bad?" He shifts his weight, suddenly self-conscious. "I know it's not exactly—"
"Get inside," your voice comes out rougher than intended.
His eyebrows raise. "I've only got a few minutes before I need to get to the station—"
"Inside," you fist your hand in his shirt and pull him through the doorway, kicking the door shut behind him.
The second it clicks closed, you're on him. Your mouth finds his, hungry and demanding. Bucky makes a startled sound against your lips before his hands come up to grip your waist.
"Okay," he breathes when you break away to mouth at his jaw. "Okay, so you like the uniform."
"Shut up." You bite gently at his neck, feel him shudder. Your fingers find his badge, trace the edge of it. "You look so fucking good."
He goes very still. Then he murmurs: "Oh, we're doing this?"
You pull back enough to meet his eyes. They're dark, pupils blown wide, and there's a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "You showed up at my door looking like this, what did you think was going to happen?"
"I thought I'd show you before my shift, maybe get a kiss—" His hands slide down to your hips, his fingers digging in. "—not have my girlfriend look at me like she wants to eat me like I'm a piece of candy."
"Maybe I do."
His breath catches for a second, you can see the moment he makes his decision. His expression shifts, settles into something more controlled, commanding. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped an octave.
"Then get on the couch." His hands grip your wrists and he walks you backward until your legs hit it. "I need to check you over. Make sure you're not overheating."
You're already reaching for his belt, desperate and wanting, but he catches your hands.
"Not yet." He guides you down to sit on the edge of the couch. From this angle you have to look up at him, and the sight itself sends heat flooding through you. "Let me do my assessment first."
Bucky's hand come up to cup your jaw, his thumb brushes over your bottom lip before pressing inside of your mouth. "You're going to sit there and let me check you over. And if you make a sound without permission, I'll have to find other ways to keep you quiet." He taps the side of your mouth with his thumb. "Understand?"
You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, and he smirks.
His hands go to the buttons of your blouse, working them open with careful precision. The contrast of his vibranium fingers against your skin makes you shiver, and when he pushes the fabric off your shoulders you arch into his touch.
"Already running hot," he murmurs, palms sliding over your skin. His fingers trace the edge of your bra, then dip beneath it to palm your breast. You gasp and his lips quirk. "Elevated heart rate, flushed skin… I'm seeing all the signs."
"Bucky, please—"
"What did I say about staying quiet?" He pinches your nipple lightly in reprimand and you bite back a moan. "I need to focus on my assessment."
He takes his time, his hands map every inch of exposed skin, pushing your bra up and out of the way so he can lower his mouth to your chest. The badge presses cold against your stomach as he leans in, and the sensation combined with the hot pull of his mouth on your nipple makes you whimper.
"That's better," he murmurs against your skin. "Just feel it."
His hands drop to your pants, undoing them with quick efficiency. You lift your hips to help him slide them down, and when his fingers brush against your underwear—already damp—he makes a low, approving sound.
"Already so wet," he says, hooking his fingers in the waistband. "This needs to come off."
You're shaking by the time he gets your underwear off, leaving you bare from the waist down, blouse open and bra pushed up. Bucky stands there for a moment just looking at you, and you can see him hard and straining against his uniform pants.
"Spread your legs," he says, voice rough and commanding. "Wider. I want to taste you."
You comply, heart hammering and watch as he drops to his knees between your thighs. The sight of him in that crisp uniform, on his knees for you, makes your head spin.
"Bucky," you breathe and he glances up at you with dark, hungry eyes.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his hand gripping your thigh hard enough to leave marks. "Already so wet for me." His tongue drags slow and deliberate up your center and you gasp. "Stay quiet, that's an order."
He's relentless, using his tongue and lips and the gentle scrape of teeth, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on your clit that makes your legs shake. When you whimper he pulls back just enough to speak against you.
"What did I say?" His breath is hot against you. "Quiet, or I stop."
You bite your lip hard, trying desperately to obey, and he rewards you by sealing his lips around your clit and sucking. Your hips buck involuntarily and his vibranium hand slides up to press against your lower stomach, holding you in place until you're writhing against him, fingers twisting in the couch cushions.
"Bucky—fuck—I'm going to—"
"Not yet." He pulls back, ignoring your whine of protest, chin slick with you, and stands up. "You don't come until I'm inside you."
You're still catching your breath when you push yourself up and reach for him, hands going to his belt. "My turn."
"Baby, we don't have time—"
"Then you better not distract me." You undo his belt with shaky fingers, popping the button on his pants and freeing him. He's hard and flushed and already leaking. When you look up at him through your lashes, you can't help but smirk. "Besides, I should probably know how to handle a fireman's hose, right?"
He laughs, surprised and breathless. "Did you really just—"
"Shut up." You stroke him once, twice, and watch his expression go dark. "Unless you want me to stop?"
You take him in your mouth, watching his face as you work him with your tongue. His hand comes up to tangle in your hair—not pushing, just holding—and the groan that escapes him makes heat pool between your legs all over again.
You take him deeper and he curses, hips jerking slightly. You can feel him getting close, the tension building in his body, but before he can finish he pulls you off gently.
"I need to be inside you," he says. "Right now."
He pulls you up, turning you so your chest is pressed against the back of the couch. The position leaves you bent over, exposed, and when you feel the head of his cock press against your entrance—slick and hot—you push back desperately.
"Look at you," he mutters, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides himself. "So fucking eager for it."
"Please."
His hand comes down on your ass, and you gasp. "I've got you."
He enters you in one hard thrust and you cry out, the stretch and fullness of him almost too much. The angle makes everything feel more intense—you can feel every inch of him, the way he fills you completely—and when he bottoms out, buried deep, his hips flush against your ass, you both moan.
"You feel so fucking good. So fucking tight around my cock." He pulls almost all the way out and he thrusts back in, watching where you're joined. "Taking me so well, taking all of me."
He doesn't wait, just starts moving with deep, punishing thrusts that make his badge press against your neck. You can hear the shift of his uniform with every movement and it makes you clench around him.
"That's it," he growls, one hand sliding up your spine. "Just like that."
You're babbling now, incoherent pleas and curses, and he responds by fucking you harder. One hand slides around to find your clit, circling it with rough insistent pressure that makes your vision blur.
"Are you going to be a good girl and come on my cock?"
His words, his fingers on your clit, the relentless drive of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you—it's too much. The pressure builds impossibly fast, winding tighter and tighter until you're shaking with it, thighs trembling.
"Bucky, please, I need—"
"Come." The word is firm. "Come for me right fucking now."
The permission breaks you. You come with a sharp, broken cry, clenching hard around him, and the sensation of you falling apart tears his own orgasm from him. He buries himself deep with a groan, hips stuttering as he fills you, and you feel the hot pulse of him inside you while you're still shaking through the aftershocks.
He stays there for a moment, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, both of you trying to remember how to breathe. After a few seconds, he carefully pulls out and you immediately turn to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He holds you close, one hand stroking up and down your back.
"Hi beautiful," he says, soft and a little sheepish now.
"Hi hottie," you kiss him slow and sweet. "That was— wow."
"Yeah," he's smiling against your mouth. "I really have to—"
You both look at the clock on the wall. 7:14 PM.
"You're so late," you say.
"So late," he agrees, but he doesn't sound particularly sorry about it as he tucks himself back into his pants and tries to make himself presentable. His hair's a mess now, the bun half undone, and there's a hickey blooming on his neck just above his collar.
"They're gonna know," you point out, still sprawled on the couch in your state of undress.
"I don't care." He leans down to kiss you one more time.
You watch him head for the door, adjusting his belt and attempting to smooth his hair. He pauses with his hand on the doorknob and looks back at you.
"Same time tomorrow?" There's mischief in his eyes.
You grin. "You're working a double tomorrow."
"Then I'll come by after." He winks. "Fair warning though— I might still be in my turnout gear."
The door closes behind him and you flop back against the couch, already counting down the hours until his next shift ends.
Firefighter Bucky is definitely your favorite of his career attempts so far.
I really like the idea of Suguru with a mommy kink- and no I don't mean in the sense that he likes to be your mommy. Rather YOU are his mommy.
Preferably the idea of Suguru coming home after a particularly hard day, and shedding his robes. Not long after finding his way into your awaiting arms. You sat clad in a soft robe —mainly for easier access. Large hands quickly pull apart the top of your robe to let it pool around your torso, and leave your breasts bare.
Suguru hums in amusement before latching on, gently suckling the bud of your nipple into his awaiting mouth. His tongue rolled the bud around, then he moved to gently flicking, before his soft lips fully engulfed the nub. His other hand slids up to cup your other breast, rolling the neglected nipple with his thumb. Suguru's eyes fluttered shut, completely blissed out as he continued his ministrations.
A soft moan escaped your lips, as Suguru suckled particularly harsh. A groan vibrated against your breast, whilst he continued to knead your free breast. Eventually he was unlatching, breaking a string of saliva, from his lips to your nipple. Leaving behind the purplish aftermath of his previous endeavors on your other tit, Suguru was already swallowing your other breast whole into his greedy mouth. Before you had even processed his first departure from your chest.
This where he feels safest. The only place in the world where he truly can let his gaurd down and feel human. Right here, with his face buried in your tits. With his "mommy".
He woke up from a brutal nightmare long before his alarm went off, and spent the rest of the morning in the gym trying to distract himself. Then Price sent him to go help reorganise the armoury, which meant hauling around heavy boxes of weapons and gear for the better part of 4 hours, and then Soap had tracked him down and practically dragged him to the sparring mats under the promise of a ‘blowie actually longer than 5 minutes’ to the winner. He hasn’t eaten all day. He’s had maybe an hour of sleep.
So, needless to say, he’s not at his peak form.
He hits the mat hard enough to knock the air clean out of him, and before he can even think about getting back up, Soap’s weight is already settling over his lap, knees bracketing his hips, one hand pinning his wrist to the mat above his head.
“Oi,” Soap says, grinning down at him, breathless and visibly delighted with himself. “Oi, that’s - that’s a first, that is.”
Ghost bucks. Or he tries to. His hips come up as he twists his weight sideways, his free hand shoving at Soap’s ribs, and it should work, it’s always worked, Ghost’s got 6 inches and 30 pounds on him- except he doesn’t have anything left in him. He can feel his forearms shaking with exertion of it, spreading up into his shoulders, a tremor he can’t push through no matter how hard he grits his teeth and tries.
He shoves again. Soap barely moves.
“…Si?”
He tries once more. Real effort this time, hips snapping up, twisting, trying to get a knee between them and buy himself the inch he needs to flip the position the way he’s flipped it on Soap a hundred times before. His body answers with nothing. A shudder, a burn in his muscles, his wrist trembling uselessly under Soap’s grip. He can’t move Soap at all.
The realization hits him hard, stealing what little air he’d managed to regain from his lungs. He can’t. Not won’t, can’t. There’s no strength left to push with, no reserves to draw on, and Soap is still there, warm and heavy and very much not going anywhere, watching him with barely-concealed glee.
“Interestin’,” Soap murmurs, looking down at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Didnae think I’d ever see the day.”
“Don’t get used to it.” Ghost tries and fails to channel his usual deadpan. Instead the words come out breathy and quiet, and Soap’s grin widens in response.
He should say something else. Something to put the usual distance back between them, some flat remark to remind Soap this is still just sparring, still just Tuesday, still just the two of them being idiots on the mat like always.
What comes out instead is a low, mumbled, “…get off.”
It doesn’t have any teeth behind it, they can both tell. Soap’s grin shifts into something sly. “Say please.”
“MacTavish.”
“I mean it. Ye’re at my mercy, Lt.” He leans forward, hovering, just enough that Ghost has to tip his head back to keep looking at him.
Ghost’s free hand is still resting against Soap’s ribs from his last failed shove, and he’s abruptly, painfully aware of it. The heat coming off Soap through his shirt, the rise and fall of his breathing, quick from the fight and not slowing down.
“You’re enjoying this,” Ghost says. “Get off.”
“Mm.” Soap doesn’t move an inch. “Reckon I’ll collect my winnings first.”
It was comical, really, the way your kisses were like his kryptonite.
The Cloud Strife, first class ex-SOLDIER, all stoic and sass. Melting at a single touch of your fingers to his face. Looking at you lovingly when you kiss him gently on the nose before moving on to his cheeks, ears, and forehead. And, dare I say it, smiling when you finally connect your lips to his. It’s pretty hilarious really, to everyone besides him at least.
No one knows how you do it. Cloud could be thoroughly pissed off, and it’d be like some spell when you kiss him on the cheek. He’d first look at you like you’re crazy, but then he’d have that pout. The one that silently asks “give me some more” before you cave and pepper him in kisses. Every peck makes him forget why he was so mad, or about anything else for that matter.
He’d lean on the counter, and whatever is said to him gets a bunch of dreamy “mm-hmm”s and “uh-huh”s as he holds you closer in his lap. Eyes fluttered closed like he’s seeing heaven behind them. It’s the most calm anyone’s ever seen Cloud.
And then as soon as you stop, a switch has been flicked and Cloud Strife is no longer on cloud nine. He just resumes like nothing happened. Like he didn’t just get pissed and then tamed in such a short time span.
If you ever bring it up, he’s quick to shut it down, but not without plenty of blushing, averting eyes, and grunts of embarrassment.
You missed it. the moment that mattered most. The day you wanted to cherish is slipping through your fingers, and some things can’t be undone e.
A/N: I am so sorry, this took me so long to post! School has been absolutely wrecking me </3. I ended up cutting and rewriting about three pages just to set up the next part. This section might not feel as climactic as you’d expect. Honestly, it feels a little like pulling a NikkieTutorials hair reveal— more setup than payoff (for now). I promise things will escalate a lot worse, especially since Roy knows he's on thin ice
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The chair nearly slipped from your hands as your grip faltered, palms sweaty against the metal. For a terrifying second, you thought it would crash onto the grass and somehow bring more attention to yourself.
Each child was blissfully gathered at the long table, their chatter oblivious and cheerful with eyes darting between the cake and the smoke curling from the freshly blown candles.
The sound should have been sweet, the kind of noise you’d spent weeks preparing for. But all you felt was the tight, sick weight pressing into your chest.
You felt your throat close up as the fabric of your costume suddenly became itchy, your breath shallow and uneven.
You wanted nothing more than to go back into the garage and hide away until the end of the party.
However, you managed to put one foot in front of the other because she was there.
Lian.
She sat at the head of the table with flushed cheeks and tiara tilting half off her head, practically bouncing in her seat.
Her little hands smacked the tabletop with pure glee from being celebrated. She was radiant, your one bright star through the fog.
You stumbled on the last few steps as you set the chair down with more force than grace and bent quickly to press your lips into her curls before your voice could betray you.
“I saw, baby,” you whispered, the lie smooth on your tongue. “You did amazing.”
Her giggles burst out instantly, “Good! You and Daddy had to be there for it to work. My wish was about you, Mama.”
The words basically smacked you in the face, the force of her words making the world blurr.
You wished. God, you wished you’d seen her.
The way her eyes must have squeezed shut and the puff of her cheeks, the tiny expression of determination she always wore when she wanted something badly.
Was it a wish she’d been carrying for weeks in her little heart? Or something she’d decided right there in the moment, made from pure joy?
You didn’t know. You hadn’t seen. And her wish had been about you.
Your eyes burned hot, the sting rising faster than you could swallow down.
Oh no.
You were going to cry. You quickly pressed your face deeper into her hair, trying to blink back any tears before you humiliated yourself further
You wished you could handle this better. Put on a mask like the other adults in the backyard and pretend your heart wasn’t just ripped out of your chest.
Roy and his friends were all amazing at playing pretend, making others believe something that wasn’t true, and last but not least, reassurances so flawless they almost sounded real.
Unfortunately, you weren’t like any of them.
The tears came sharp and burning before you could blink them back. They slid down your cheeks and fell into her curls as you buried your face more into her hair.
You tried to hold your breath to steady it, but the tremor shuddered through your chest and gave you away.
Lian noticed instantly. Of course, despite not being your flesh and blood it was like she was woven into your soul.
Her little brows knit together as she leaned in closer, her voice dipping quietly, “Mama?” Her head tilted as she twisted to see your face.
Her little hand brushed lightly against your arm, then drifted up to your cheek, where the tears had streaked. Her nose wrinkled in confusion and concern. “Why are you crying?”
Your laugh burst out too quickly, and it cracked midway, as you swiped at your face with the heel of your hand before you cupped her cheek with your free hand forcing your smile back into place.
“Because you made me so happy, honey,” you whispered before you kissed her temple, breathing her in like her scent. “You’re so sweet, making your birthday wish about Mama— my precious girl.”
Before she could ask anything else and more importantly, before she could look too closely at the cracks, you dipped down and covered her in kisses.
Across her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, everywhere you could reach. Loud, silly smacks of affection, each one punctuated with an exaggerated “Mwah!” until she squealed and twisted in your arms.
“Mama!” she shrieked between bursts of giggles, little hands flailing to shield her face. “Stop! You’re so silly!”
You only laugh in response, ducking to her neck to blow an obnoxious raspberry there until she was squirming helplessly with her legs kicking under the table.
The sound of her bright and unrestrained laughter rang out, and a few of the other kids giggled too, clapping along as though it were part of the show.
The more she laughed, the more you found yourself laughing too. Meek and shaky at first, but soon enough real.
Her arms found their way to curl around your neck in a little hug, her cheek pressed to yours. She had managed to calm you without even knowing it, and for a small moment it was just you and her.
The warmth of her arms, the sound of her laughter, the peace you needed.
But when you finally lifted your head, you felt the weight of eyes on you. The gaze of the adults at the table made you nauseous.
Donna’s lips pressed together, her expression soft with sympathy as she looked directly at you, while Artemis just looked away as if giving you privacy was the only support she could offer.
Wally shifted restlessly in his seat looking all over the place, his fork tapping against the table.
Dick’s usual easy smile was gone, replaced with a faint crease between his brows as if he was watching someone fall and couldn’t move fast enough to catch them (I thought of his parents writing that lowkey.).
And Jade— honestly, seemed like she couldn’t care less.
Then there was Roy.
Your loving, silly boyfriend. Who already managed to hurt you once today!
Yay him.
Maybe he was going for a world record, trying to see if he could crush your heart more than any man ever did.
He stood frozen on the other side of Lian, with the lighter clutched uselessly in his hand with guilt carved into every inch of his face.
He met your eyes and suddenly he jolts into moving, as if realizing it’s the love of his life’s heart that he just stomped on.
“Hey, uh— Pumpkin,” he said too loudly, forcing a grin. “You know what I just realized? Five’s a big number. Big enough for two wishes. What do you say we light the candles again, huh? This time, you can sit in Mama’s lap when you blow them out. Extra special!”
Lian gasped with her eyes going wide. “Two wishes? Really?” She whipped toward you, curls bouncing, practically glowing. “Mama, did you hear? I get two!”
For a second, you almost let yourself believe it would work and you could get that moment back. Play pretend and make it to the end of the party with something to keep you going.
But the chorus of kids at the table broke into groans and protests almost instantly.
“Aw, nooo! We want cake!”
“She already did her wish!”
“That’s not fairrrrrr!”
“Cake! Cake! Cake!”
The chant started loud and furious with little fists pounding the table. Lian looked around torn, her eyes flicking from the cake to the kids to you before her shoulders sagged.
She slumped back into her chair with a pout before grabbing your hand. “Actually, Daddy, I wanna eat cake.”
His grin slipped for just a heartbeat before he forced it back on.
“Aw, come on, dont be like that, Lian!” he said, before turning to the chanting kids. “It’s her birthday. Don’t you think the birthday girl deserves another wish? Just one more minute, then we’ll have cake.”
To his utter dismay, the whines only grew louder.
“Cake! Cake! Cake!”
“BOOOOOO!”
He shifts uneasily, shooting a desperate look at his friends who for once seem unsure of how to save the day themselves.
He tries again, his voice cracking with a forced laugh. “Hey! Don’t be partypoopers—” His eyes flicked toward you, pleading, before darting back to his daughter. “C’mon, Princess, just climb into Mama’s lap. We’ll do it fast!”
But Lian, overwhelmed by the chaos, glanced at the cake and then back at you. Her lip trembled for half a second, her cheeks pink due to the peer pressure from both sides.
She tugged at your sleeve meekly. “It’s okay, daddy. I can wish again next year. I want cake now.”
Roy froze, the lighter heavy in his hand. For a beat too long, he looked like he might argue again.
Like he might fight the backyard full of sugar-hungry kids just to give you that stolen moment back or even try to pressure Lian to do the show again for your sake.
His mouth parted with his shoulders stiff, desperation carved into his face… But your focus was on Lian, not his attempt at damage control.
The way Lian’s eyes flicked nervously, her little fingers tightening on your sleeve as the complaints grew louder and louder.
Specifically the way she bit at her lip in a way that made her look far older than five.
It would’ve been easy to push her to do it for your sake. Didn’t seem that big of a deal in retrospect. But to a little five-year-old? To her, it was a lot, wanting to please everyone.
(How on earth did she manage to inherit your people-pleasing tendencies so soon?)
She had been so proud of that one wish with the way she beamed up at you. That was enough for her and right now… enough for you.
Forcing it now would only sour her day, and you refused to let that happen. (and maybe more selfishly, part of you also didn’t want Roy to have that out of a do-over.)
Your hand found her back, gently pressing her into the safety of your touch. “You heard the Princess,” you said, your voice soft but certain, carrying just enough weight to settle the table.
“We’ll do cake now.” You leaned close, brushing her curls back, speaking just to her. “You already made your wish, sweetheart. And it was perfect.”
The tension left her in an instant. Her face lit up as she bounced in her seat. “Yeah! Cake time!” she squealed, joining the chant with her friends, her voice clear and giddy.
And just like that, the noise swept back in, plates lifting eagerly, kids pounding the table, and voices rising in happy chatter.
Roy’s hand dropped slowly, the lighter slipping onto the table with a dull clink. His eyes stayed locked on you though
But you didn’t meet his gaze. You couldn’t. Not when your throat was already tight, and with your eyes started to burn again.
Instead, you pressed another kiss into Lian’s hair, hiding your face there as the kids cheered for frosting.
She was happy. And that had to be enough.
-------
Soon, the cake was cut and dished out onto paper plates. The kids’ laughter rose, fueled by sugar, and only got louder.
You're on autopilot with smooth and practiced gestures, trying to act as normal as possible, all while knowing every other adult could see through you.
It was hard to breathe with how your chest still ached from missing the moment you’d spent just last night in Roy’s arms, whispering about how excited you were to witness.
Roy wasn’t doing much better.
He hovered like a shadow far too close to ignore him completely. His eyes never left you. Every slice you served, he tracked it. Every time you lifted a hand to rub at your eyse, his shoulders twitched as if he might step in.
Once, when you moved toward the stack of napkins, he angled his body toward you with his hand lifting just slightly like he meant to brush yours.
You turned instead, crouching at a little girl’s side to steady her plate before it tipped.
Another time, he took a step closer, his lips parting with your name already forming, but you leaned down to kiss Lian’s cheek and smeared a spot of frosting on her nose with exaggerated playfulness. She squealed with delight, and the moment slipped away before he could reach you.
Every time he tried, you found something or someone else to use as an excuse. Roy’s grin shrank each time. The desperation behind it grew more obvious until it was no longer a smile at all.
His hands were restless, raking through his hair, fidgeting with his fork, or drumming against the table.
He looked desperate for you to steady him, reassure him everything would be fine, like you had countless times before.
The people around him noticed his unease. Dick’s gaze lingered on Roy, a crease forming between his furrowed brows.
Wally shifted closer, his fork tapping against the paper plate before he leaned slightly in toward Roy. For the first time since it happened, Roy looked away to look to Wally.
You didn’t hear what was said, not over the squeals and chatter of the children, but you saw it— the faint movement of Wally’s lips and Roy’s sharp inhale.
Then Dick tilted his head just slightly, as if to underline the point, his steady eyes holding Roy’s for a beat too long.
It was all silent, no words you could catch, but the message seemed to land heavily in Roy’s chest. His fidgeting stopped as his restless hands stilled on the table. His jaw tightened, and then his eyes snapped toward you.
Something changed in him in that instant, the sudden look of certain determination. He pushed suddenly back from the table, the legs of his chair scraping against the grass as he stood.
Forcing a happy tone, he clapped his hands together once loudly
“Hey!” he called, his grin a little too wide, his voice carrying over the kids’ chants for frosting. “Princess, Mama and I just realized we forgot something inside. Won’t take too long. You guys keep eating cake.”
Lian, cheeks dusted with sugar and curls sticking to the frosting at the corner of her mouth, looked up at him with innocent delight.
“Okay, Daddy!” she chirped, already distracted by the chaos of her friends bargaining away at the table for more slices.
Roy’s focus, though, was on you. his eyes burned with the same desperation it had earlier.
The backyard continued on, but in that moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to just him, waiting for your answer.
You give him a sharp look, the kind that doesn’t need words to communicate your irritation. Your chest tightens as you watch him hover there, a little too eager and hopeful.
Your jaw tightens. Seriously? That’s the plan? Drag you inside, away from the party, away from Lian, away from everyone, to have some forced, desperate private conversation?
A spark of anger flares up in your chest, sharp and hot. You feel it radiating from your gut all the way up to your temples. The audacity was actually insane.
You had just gone through a heartbreak in front of everyone, swallowed your grief, held your tears back for Lian, and now he’s trying to stage some little dramatic rescue?
And worse, you know he’s only doing it because of whatever words Dick and Wally fed him.
The idea that he needed external validation to finally confront you after everything he’s done makes your blood boil.
His eyes are pleading, hopeful, almost sheepish, and your stomach twists. You’re frustrated at yourself for noticing the desperation, but mostly you’re frustrated at him.
You don’t want to encourage him, don’t want to give him even the smallest victory of getting you alone.
And yet, there’s a part of you, a small, reluctant corner of your mind, that flinches at how he looks— how clearly he wants to fix this, wants your attention, even if it’s entirely the wrong way, at the wrong time.
Still. He’s going to have to do better than this to earn a real conversation.
You give him a too sweet smile. It was enough to watch a bit of tension ease from his shoulders. You let him shift closer, watching as he started to lift his hand to catch your hip to guide you inside.
The action would’ve made your heart flutter, but in that moment, it made your stomach twist.
You weren’t going to give in this time. Wanting him to feel a bit of anguish you felt in that moment, you were quick to yank the rug out from under him.
“It can wait, Roy,” you say lightly, raising your voice just enough for the table to hear. “We have to get to the piñata.”
The kids erupt instantly, sugar-smeared faces lighting up, tiny fists pounding the table.
“Pinata?!”
“CANDY??”
Lian bursts from her seat like a tiny firework, clapping her sticky little hands together and practically vibrating with excitement.
Her curls bounce wildly as she hops off her seat and plants herself in front of Roy, eyes wide and shining. “Daddy! Let’s go!!”
Before he can react, she tugs him by the sleeve with all the strength her little arms can muster, dragging him toward the backyard. His mouth opens to argue, but Lian doesn’t care.
Roy’s eyes meet yours for a fraction of a second, panic and pleading etched into every line of his face.
He opens his mouth again, tries to say something, but Lian jerks him forward, cutting him off completely. His knees wobble as he stumbles after her, a faint, desperate laugh escaping him that sounds more like a whimper.
You let yourself watch, pressed between amusement and satisfaction. Maybe it’s cruel, petty even. But you’re allowed a little bit of vindictiveness.
The other kids, oblivious to the adult drama, cheer and charge after them, sugar and laughter mingling in the air.
Roy stumbles into the crowd, wide-eyed and flustered, caught entirely in the hurricane of candy-hungry children, and you finally allow yourself a moment to breathe.
You stood off to the side watching.
Unsurprisingly, his friends didn’t try to approach you; instead, they gave you space, crowding closer to Roy.
You watch as kids bounce around, taking turns swinging at the bear piñata. Each swing and Thwat! Gradually dulling out the world around you as you replay the day's events.
Thwat! Jade showed up unannounced, shattering the promises Roy had made to you when he cupped your face and spoke to you softly.
Thwat! Going out of your way to make Jade comfortable to grab a chair, even when your hands were trembling as your chest tightened with frustration.
Thwat! Returning with a mask ready to keep Lian’s day going only to see the curling smoke of the candles, Lian beaming between the two people who had given her life.
Thwat! Faces of Lian’s friends and family— Roy’s people smiling, laughing, perfectly oblivious to your absence, even with Jade’s intrusion.
Thwat! The pitying looks, Roy’s desperate scramble for a do-over, a frantic attempt to rewrite the moment he’d already ruined.
Thwat! The whispered conversation between Roy, Wally, and Dick— their nudges and advice that got him even to consider pulling you aside, putting you on the spot in front of everyone.
Thwat! The stolen moments, the promises broken, the loud sting of being unseen—
By the time you snap back into the moment, the bear’s belly has already split.
Candy spills like a flood, scattering across the grass— wrapped chocolates glinting in the sun, lollipops clattering down, and gummy packs plopping into the dirt.
The kids shriek as though treasure has rained from the sky, diving headfirst into the chaos with little hands and knees.
Lian stands in the middle of it all, blindfold slipping sideways towards her chin, her bat in her fist looking ridiculously big in her hold.
Her cheeks are flushed pink, her tiara has slipped nearly over ear, and she is laughing with her whole chest
Around her, the adults shift into their roles. Donna is already crouched with a steady smile, passing paper bags into eager hands.
Artemis whistles sharply between her teeth, moving between flailing elbows before the wrestling starts.
Wally makes a dramatic dive for a stray lollipop, collapsing into the grass with a groan so exaggerated the kids howl with laughter.
Dick has his phone up, catching blurred shots of smiles and sugar. Jade doesn’t move, but a rare smile grows on her face as her eyes stay locked on Lian’s joy.
Not too far from her stands Roy, who you only now realize had been staring right at you.
Did he notice you tune out? Your name shapes silently on his lips, drowned by the squealing of children.
Before he can try, before you can even look away, Lian finds you.
“Mama!” she squeals, already running, her fists clenched tight around handfuls of treasure. “Mama, I did it! I broke it!”
You crouch fast, arms open just in time to catch her. She barrels into you, sticky and radiant.
“Look at you,” you breathe, your voice gentler than you expect it to be. You press your lips to her temple, tasting the salt of her sweat under the faint chocolate cake, “Of course you did.”
She pulls back just far enough to look at you, her eyes wide and gleaming as she pressed a heart-shaped chocolate into your hand.
It was slightly melted with how hard she clutched it in eagerness to give it to you, “I got this one for you,” she says, “Cause I love you!”
You feel yourself falter for a moment, briefly forgetting the spiral you had.
Moments like these made all that heartbreak worth it, did it not? When your girl looked at you like you meant the world to her?
No.
A voice in your mind weasels in. No. No No.
It’s never been No before. You try to shut the voice out desperately as you give her a soft smile. “Thank you, baby.”
She squeals when you gather her back into your arms to smother her with kisses, “Mama loves you too— so much!’
Across the lawn, Roy is still watching. You watch as he shifts in place a bit more. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so unsure.
‘I’m sorry’, he mouths finally.
You don’t smile. What you offer is small, careful nod. It could mean later. It could mean never.
“Mama, come on!” Lian tugs at your hand, jittering with sugar and victory, her voice too bright to ignore. “Help me get the gummies before Uncle Wally steals them all!”
“I would never!” Wally protests loudly, already tucking a handful into the basket he’d made of his shirt. The kids shriek at him in outrage, moving to grab at him.
You let her pull you forward, into the mess of grass and candy wrappers.
-----------------------
The chaos dulled slowly, leaving half-eaten slices of cake on paper plates, balloons sagged you tied them, and the grass was littered with a few wrappers.
Kids were pulled away one by one with sugar-crashed voices trailing off toward waiting cars, tiny hands tugging on costumes as parents buckled seatbelts.
Donna was the first to stop on her way out, her hand squeezing your shoulder with gentle pressure. “You did great today,” she said warmly, eyes meeting yours for only a moment.
But the softness in her voice faltered as her gaze drifted toward Roy.
“She’s lucky to have both of you.” The words settled heavy, polite on the surface, but you could feel the unspoken ‘don’t let this come between you’ lingering underneath.
Artemis followed with a polite smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You did good out here,” she said, voice low, as though she was offering you something private.
Then her hand closed around Roy’s arm, firm and steady. “He’ll get it right next time.”
It was dressed up like reassurance, like she was empathizing with you, even defending you. But the words caught in your mind on repeat. Next time.
She didn’t say if. She said it like the future was already decided, like forgiveness was inevitable.
Like she knew you’d fold, no matter how deep your hurt went.
Wally’s grin was wide and bright. Only now do you begin to suspect that the smiles he’s given all along were faked, out of politeness or just for Roy’s sake, “Lian’s a happy kid,” he said cheerfully, like that solved everything.
His glance flicked at Roy a beat later. “That’s what matters, right?” He patted your arm on his way by, but the clap on Roy’s back lingered longer.
Dick lingered only a second, offering you a polite smile, gentle but restrained. “Kid’s got so much love around her,” he said, like it was a comfort.
But his eyes didn’t stay on you— they locked on Roy, the same look he gave him at the table shared in front of you.
Jade bent down, pressing a kiss into Lian’s curls, her goodbye whispered just for the little girl. Lian beamed, arms curling briefly around her mother before bouncing back to her seat.
When Jade straightened, she was gone just as fast.
And then it was just the three of you.
-------------------------
Roy hovered near the fence, fiddling with the lighter again, snapping it open and shut, the flame flashing against his face in uneven bursts.
Every few seconds, his gaze flicked back to you, quick and sharp, like he was afraid you’d vanish if he looked away too long.
You kept yourself busy with stacking cups, scraping frosting from the tablecloth, and wiping down plastic knives.
The small cleanup gave your hands something to do, even if they trembled faintly with the effort of pretending to be calm while Lian messed around with her gifts.
Then the back gate clicked, and voices drifted in warm and unmistakable. You blinked, suddenly remembering that since Dinah and Oliver couldn’t make the party itself, they’d offered to take Lian for the rest of the weekend.
As if your day couldn’t get any better.
“Grandpa!” she shrieked the moment her eyes landed on them, tiara sliding down her head as she bolted across the grass.
Olliver barely had time to crouch before she launched into his arms. He laughed, booming and warm, spinning her in a circle while Dinah followed with a wave, already reaching to straighten the crooked crown.
“We missed the best part, huh?” Oliver teased, kissing her cheek. “Guess you’ll just have to tell us everything.”
The little girl was practically vibrating with sugar and excitement, rattling off every detail of the party, from the cake to the piñata in a breathless rush.
Dinah smiled, listening happily, but then, as if noticing the heavy tension, her gaze flicked briefly between you and Roy.
“Like promised, we’re here to take her for the rest of her birthday weekend,” she said warmly, brushing a curl from Lian’s forehead.
The words were wrapped in cheer, but there was something deliberate in how she said them, something that made it clear she was giving you space, whether you’d asked for it or not.
Her hand smoothed down Lian’s back as she added, softer now, “She’ll be spoiled rotten, don’t worry. You two… take care of yourselves.”
Oliver, oblivious or maybe just choosing to lighten the air, swooped Lian higher with a booming laugh. “Birthday weekend with Grandpa— what could be better? Hope you packed your appetite, kiddo, ‘cause we’re making s’mores first thing.”
The words should have landed like a gift. Just last week, you and Roy had whispered in bed, grinning against each other in the dark, giddy about having the house to yourselves.
A whole weekend without interruptions— time to be just the two of you.
But now, the thought curled heavy and sour in your stomach. It was the last thing you could fucking want.
After going inside to grab Lian's pre-packed bag, Lian had hugged you before she left, sugar-sticky hands cupping your cheeks.
“Don’t be sad, Mama. I know you miss me when I’m gone, but I’ll be back, okay?” She kissed your nose, happy and sweet, before wriggling free to race back into Olivers arms.
You stood on the porch as they pulled away. The taillights bled red into the dark before vanishing down the street.
Roy was the first to break the silence as he lingered in the doorway, the light behind him making a halo out of everything you suddenly hated.
“So… it’s just us now.”
He plasters a weak uneven smile, “Maybe that’s good. We’ll finally have time for us.”
The laugh that ripped out of you was sharp and ugly. Good? Your chest burned as you shoved past him into the hall.
Your shoulder caught his arm so hard the lighter slipped from his fingers, clattering against the wood floor.
You hear the front door click as you storm away. Tunnel vision set on the stairs. You want nothing more than to storm upstairs and lock Roy out of your shared bedroom so you could sob in peace.
Unfortunately, you dont' even make it up a step before his hand clamped around your arm, tugging you back. “C’mon, baby, don’t be like that—”
You snapped, yanking free so violently he actually flinched. “Don’t. Don’t call me baby like I’m sulking. Don’t you dare reduce everything I’m feeling to a bad mood you think you can charm me out of with sweet words and kisses!”
His eyes widen, and he steps back immediately, hands raised with his palms facing you in shock, guilt already spilling across his face, but you didn’t let him speak.
“You swore! You swore you’d set boundaries with Jade, and instead you invited her— today of all days. And you didn’t even warn me! You let me open that door like an idiot, standing there in a costume while she looked me in the eye like she belonged here more than I ever will.”
“Hey, that’s not—”
“And then?” You were shaking now, fury spilling faster than you could contain it. “I spend hours making sure every little detail is perfect, and when the birthday song starts? I’m in the garage hauling a fucking folding chair while you and Jade get to sit there beside our daughter, smiling like the perfect picture family!”
Your voice cracked, raw. “I missed her wish, Roy. The one thing I wanted most— and you didn’t even notice I was gone.”
Roy’s face crumpled as he took in your words, hands hanging uselessly as he fought his urge to pull you into your arms and smother away your anger and hurt
“I know,” he whispered, the words torn raw out of him. His voice cracked, heavy with a desperation that couldn’t be dressed up in jokes or fake grins.
“I know I fucked up. I saw it on your face the second you walked back out there, and I just—” He broke off, dragging his hands through his hair, tugging hard enough that his knuckles went white. “God, I can’t believe I let that happen.”
You stared, your chest tight. Anger still burned hot, but his voice was so desperate and defeated it stirred something else alongside it.
Roy’s eyes lifted, pleading even watering now. “I should’ve told you about Jade. I should’ve noticed you weren’t there when the birthday song started. I should’ve—”
He bit down on his words, shaking his head. “I should’ve been better. For you. Instead, I keep… I keep making shit worse”
The silence that followed was heavy, trembling between you.
Roy stepped back, his hands falling uselessly at his sides. His voice came quiet and hoarse, like he’d finally run out of fight. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, baby. I don’t want to keep hurting you. I don’t—”
His chest rose sharply as he forced the words out. “Tell me how to fix it. Please.”
And there it was. Him pleading for you to do the work. And other defeated laugh escapes you’d.
“Roy— God.” You shook your head, one hand dragging down your face. “If you don’t know how to fix this by now, what’s the point of me spelling it out to you?”
His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Just a sharp inhale, flinching like you raise a hand to strike him
“You think it’s enough to just say sorry and look at me like a fucking kicked puppy?” Your voice cracked.
“Do you even hear yourself? Do you realize how many times I’ve had to be the one holding your hand, guiding you to fix things—” You cut yourself off, swallowing hard, tears stinging fresh. “You still wait for me to tell you what to do. Like- like making me feel better is some unsolvable case instead of it being something you should know already!”
For a moment, the only sound was your breathing, ragged and uneven. The silence between you was suffocating.
“I don’t…” He swallowed hard, voice breaking low. “I don’t want you to feel like that. Like I need you to… teach me how to love you right.”
His jaw flexed, guilt carved deep into every line of his face. “I should already know. I should’ve known. And I don’t have an excuse.”
You stared at him, your throat tight. For once, he wasn’t scrambling to patch the silence with jokes, wasn’t trying to distract you with a grin. He just stood there, bare and fumbling, like he finally realized words weren’t enough.
But still, he stayed quiet. Waitin and hoping. Like he thought, if he stayed quiet enough, you’d reach out and save him again.
And that— that was the problem.
Your voice broke the silence, steady despite the ache in your chest.
“Roy. You should… go stay with Lian at Oliver’s tonight.”
[ I am so sorry if I missed anyone, first time actually doing a taglist! I also don't know if it's just this part you guys wanna be tagged for or if you'd like to stay along for the other parts as well. Lmk! :) ]
tags: rommulas x reader, bf! roman, pre established relationship, rommulas fluff, fluff, boyliife, roman is a sweetie for once (ur welcome)
this is my gift to u who have been begging for nice roman (^-^) i think i’m gonna do a mini series as long as i can stretch it of short fluffs for the different boys bc #1 i wanna say thanks for ur support and #2 once again the idea of smut rn is repulsive ! love u babies enjoyyyy (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)
︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶
having a touring boyfriend is some girls’ nightmare. it’s most of your friends - all who’ve repeatedly insisted you should end things before the tour begins. in all fairness, they’re not wrong to be afraid; artists (especially up and coming ones like your boyfriend) have a tendency to be unfaithful. but you knew roman, and you knew he wasn’t like the rest. in the group that he was a part of, every single other girlfriend trusted their boys to tour the states, so why shouldn’t you? and you did trust him, with all your heart. but that didn’t change the one downside to him touring - how fucking lonely you were.
he’d left only two weeks ago and already you felt completely lost without him. you didn’t realise how much he filled your days until he didn’t. mornings that were usually spent sipping coffee in bed, his soft curls in your lap were now spent reaching over to the cold, empty sheets beside you. evenings you used to play video games, or watch movies together you now filled doing the same alone. the weekends hurt most, when he was actually performing. you’d keep a close eye on social media, watching the photos and videos of him through the screen and just wishing you were there. it was fucking impossible.
that’s not to say you didn’t hear from him - he texted you every chance he got, and facetimed you often. but hearing his voice through the phone wasn’t the same as hearing it pressed to your neck, and if anything it only made it harder seeing his face knowing you couldn’t reach out and touch it. you passed the days as best as you could, trying to shove the ache for him aside. you caught up with ella and the girls often, bonding over how much you missed your boys. it helped having them, but it didn’t fill that hole that was reserved just for roman.
so halfway through the tour you decided you were dine waiting - you were going to see him. the boys were only two states over, and you knew they were spending an extra day there just to hang out and cool down before the next run of shows. it was perfect. so you booked the flight without thinking, and found yourself at the airport before you knew it with nothing but a haphazardly packed carry on.
the flight was quick, but it was enough time for your nerves to set in. what if he didn’t want you to interrupt? you knew he missed you, that much was obvious from his facetimes, but maybe he was enjoying the break… you knew none of the other girls had visited. your insecurity grew throughout the flight, but once you landed on solid ground it began to fade again. you were here to see the man you loved, and who loved you - of course he would be excited.
you caught a cab to your hotel, checking in before the show. you’d texted hollis ahead of time, making sure you’d be able to get into the venue. he was expecting you an hour before the audience’s doors, with a promise of being ready at the door for you and not a word breathed to roman. you had a couple hours to get ready and settle in before heading back out to the concert.
there was a certain energy in the air as you walked through the city, as if the streets knew what was coming for you. the place seemed brighter, livelier than your home a few hours away, and it was making you all the more excited to just see roman again. as promised, hollis got the door for you and led you to a spare green room. you’d decided to surprise roman after the show, so he wasn’t distracted during it.
throughout the show you hid in the audience, watching from between random fans and security guards as your beautiful boyfriend took the stage, his presence captivating everyone in the room instantly. it was so much fun, and the other acts were incredible as well. as always, hollis finished his set with jeans, playing it a whopping six times. by the third you were sneaking away, following the same route hollis had shown you earlier to get backstage again.
from there you waited, tucked up on a couch in the green room, patiently biding time before the boys ran off stage again. if hollis kept his part of the plan he would send roman down the hall to the room you were in, claiming he left his jacket in there. you were a bundle of nerves and excitement as you waited, chewing one of your nails as time ticked ever so slowly by.
sure enough, before you knew it, the door was opening again, and you saw that familiar mop of black hair before anything else. for a moment he was lost in his own world, muttering something under his breath about how lazy hollis was. but then he looked up. and oh, the wait was so worth it. he completely froze in the doorway, staring wt you like a deer in headlights.
“y/n? what the hell are you doing here?” you broke into a grin, and it was like he suddenly remembered he could move again, damn near pouncing on the couch at you. you couldn’t even reply before he was smothering you in kisses; all over your face, lips, neck and more. he couldn’t get enough. he was a man starved, spending every waking moment wondering where you were, what you were doing, if you missed him. he still wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t dreaming, but the way your fingers threaded through his hair - he was sure his mind couldn’t make that up.
eventually he pulled back, as if remembering you hadn’t answered him before, looking at you expectantly. you laughed and explained how you missed him and spontaneously booked the flight. he seriously couldn’t believe it. somewhere down the hall nate was asking what was taking roman so long, and hollis was explaining how you were visiting. but in your room, secluded on your couch, neither of you were thinking of the other boys.
after explaining everything you’d ended up on his lap, straddling him, but not in a sexual way. your hands carded through his hair as you talked, your eyes completely locked on each others as if you were both waiting for one another to disappear right before your eyes. roman dropped his head on your shoulder when you were substantially caught up, just taking the time to soak you in, to breathe in your scent. you were broken apart all too soon by a soft knock - hollis.
“we need to leave, venue’s kicking us out,” he explained, smiling gently at the two of you. he’d been your biggest cheerleader since you first met, always rooting for you two as a couple. he was the one who insisted on leaving you to catch up together, and he was the one who made sure roman had a double bed in the hotel they were staying at.
you travelled back with the rest of the boys, catching up with them in turn and passing on the love from their respective girlfriends. you may have been talking to the others, but your hand stayed intertwined with roman’s - as if letting go meant breaking apart for good.
when you got back to the hotel, he led you upstairs to his room. it was late, the whole building quiet save for his heavy heeled steps on the hardwood floor. you had a bag with you, which you threw straight in some random corner before stepping down and climbing in to bed. you weren’t bothered with pajamas, or taking your make up off or anything. you just needed to be next to roman.
he climbed in next to you soon after, scooping you up in his arms so your head was laying on his chest. “i can’t believe you’re here baby,” he said quietly for the millionth time that night. you giggled, holding him tighter, as you did every other time.
“i can’t either babe. i just missed you so much.” he immediately told you he missed you too, patting your hair with one hand. you took the other between both of yours, running your fingers across every curve and ridge of his slim fingers. it was a habit you picked up early in the relationship, but it was one that stuck. it was as if you were committing him to memory, analysing and storing away every perfect feature of him. by now you had him memorised already, but that didn’t stop you from trying to learn him better.
your attention ran up his arm as the two of you drifted into comfortable silence, your fingertips tracing his intricate tattoos one after the other. between the calming motions and the late hour, your eyelids quickly grew heavy. when you couldn’t turn anymore to keep climbing his arm with your hands - somewhere around his tricep - you let yourself relax, curling into his chest to sleep.
and he let you of course, simply grateful to have the familiar weight of you back. he fell asleep soon after you, his warm arms wrapped around your sleeping body. he still wasn’t entirely sure you were there for real, but he was making the most of it regardless, burying his head into your hair to soak up your scent before he drifted off. he slept better than he had all tour, and you slept better than you had all the time you’d been home alone.
it may have only been one night that you had together before he had to move on to the next state, but you at least got the spend the better part of the next day with each other, sightseeing in the morning then settling in for a movie in the afternoon. you spilt ways in the evening, but it didn’t hurt as bad as the first time. this time, you knew you’d be back together soon. and you knew neither of you had stopped missing the other one bit.
so when you got back home, and your friends started teasing you for being with a musician, you let them. because maybe he fit the stereotype sometimes, when he flashed his cash or said some corny cocky bullshit. and maybe you had to do painful distances, and extreme trust, but you loved each other, and you knew you’d be okay.
Helloo!!! I get terribly nervous when sending a request so hopefully I'm doing this right
Anaxagoras, Mydei and Phainon (separate) with a reader who's based on the Greek prophet Tiresias? Nothing much (hopefully), just the same attributes like: blind but can see the future and past, all ominous and shit but can be unserious if wanted to etc etc. (I'm too lazy to write down everything)
And could you make the reader male aligned if possible? Thank you!!! :3
Kissed by the Future, Held by the Damned
Tags: Anaxa x Reader, Phainon x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Romance, Angst With Comfort, Male-Aligned Reader, Blind Seer, Prophecy, Tragedy, Emotional Intimacy, Slow Burn, Found Family, Mysticism, Subtle Flirting, Reader Sees Past And Future, Pre-Established Relationship (Anaxa), Enemies To Confidants (Mydei), Sunshine X Cryptid (Phainon), Philosophical Themes, Destiny Vs Free Will.
Warnings: Death And Rebirth (Mydei), Implied Body Horror (Anaxa), Religious Trauma, Prophetic Madness, Mentions Of War And Violence, Emotional Distress, Grief, Sacrifice, Unstable Time Perception, Non-Explicit Intimacy, Casual Language, Swearing, Mental Strain From Foresight.
It was late—always late—when Anaxagoras came to you. Not as the Great Performer, not as the Demised Scholar, but as a man unraveling at the edges of his own brilliance.
He didn’t knock. He never did. The doors opened for him, as they often did for men who had torn open the veil between what is and what ought never have been.
You sat cross-legged atop a dais of moss and moth-wing tapestry, blind eyes fixed on a point he could never see.
“You've been poking holes in the firmament again,” you said mildly, tilting your head. “I felt something scream.”
He scoffed. “A Titan soul ruptures, and you reduce it to screaming fabric, Freak.”
“Gilded heretic,” you replied with a lazy grin.
The tension held, then broke—he laughed. Rare. Like stormlight caught in glass.
“You saw it, then?” he asked, quieter now. “What I tried to become?”
“I saw the truth clothe itself in your skin,” you said. “And I saw it burn you alive from the inside out.”
He knelt before you, his eyepatch gleaming like a sigil of failed divinity. “Would you have stopped me?”
“No. I love you too much to lie, and too little to save you.”
His hands found your face, reverent despite the tremor in his fingers. “You could see the future. But you chose me anyway.”
You leaned forward until your forehead touched his. “I didn’t choose you. I recognized you.”
He kissed you like a man kissing a funeral pyre—because some things burn and illuminate at once.
You first met Mydei on a battlefield, surrounded by smoking corpses and shattered prophecies.
He had just felled a Strife-Born, its Coreflame bleeding into the earth. You walked barefoot through blood to reach him.
“You're late,” he grunted, eyes narrowing. “The gods said you’d arrive before the battle.”
“I did arrive before the battle,” you said, tapping the side of your head. “You’re just behind in perception, Last Prince.”
He almost struck you. Instead, he laughed—a dry, rusty sound.
Later, when the campfires burned low, and his warriors slept with swords under pillows, you sat beside him.
“Mydei,” you said, voice softer now. “You wear your survival like a curse.”
He didn’t look at you. “It is.”
“I saw you in the Sea of Souls. Nine lives torn from your body. You screamed like a star being born.”
“Then you know why I cannot rest.”
You touched his arm, feeling the heat of him—always burning, always aching. “You could. If you let yourself be seen.”
He turned. His golden eyes bore into your unseeing ones. “By you?”
“Only I can look at your ruin and call it holy.”
He didn’t answer. But when his lips met yours, it wasn’t a kiss of romance—it was surrender. A prince bending not to fate, but to a man who read eternity like a book he’d grown bored of.
Phainon was fascinated by you from the moment he met you. You were sprawled upside-down on an altar, humming off-tune and sipping wine from a broken goblet.
“You’re the prophet?” he asked skeptically.
“I’m the visionary, thank you very much,” you replied, raising your goblet in mock salute. “Prophet sounds too responsible.”
Yet when his team entered the Black Wastes, it was your voice that guided them. You whispered warnings of collapse, mimicked the laughter of Titans, and wept for futures you couldn’t change.
He watched you—between battles, during moments of stillness. You unnerved him.
“You speak like you’re already dead,” he said one night, sitting beside you as stars blinked out above.
“I’ve died more times than you’ve drawn breath,” you said cheerfully. “Time’s weird.”
He looked away. “Does it hurt?”
“Only when I remember to be human.”
A pause.
“Then be human with me,” he said.
You blinked, blind eyes widening. “That was... surprisingly romantic for a man in silk armor.”
He flushed.
Later, in the heart of a temple collapsing around you both, he shielded your body with his own, dragging you from falling debris.
“I saw this,” you whispered, clutching his shoulder. “I knew you’d protect me.”
He gritted his teeth. “Then you should’ve warned me I’d fall in love with you.”
“I didn’t need to,” you said, smiling. “You’re Phainon. You fall in love with light.”
