#[[ let me know if i should change anything!! ]]

[shidoglazer]

get out!

bllk crack drabble suggestive/no smut

acting shocked when they walk into you changing ＠shidoglazer

ft : sae , rin , kaiser , nagi

(i’m not writing an intro for all of them im lazy)

your boyfriend texted you that he was coming home from practice soon, and you immediately got to work for your prank.

you got ready inside the bedroom, wrapping just a mere towel around your bare body before sitting in front your vanity table. after awhile, as soon as you heard his keys jingling in front of the door and his footsteps approaching the room, the door creaked open. you put on your shocked face and yelled at him,

“AH! i’m changing! get out !!” and his reaction?

｜sae itoshi

immediately shocked and offended, but listens anyways and closes the door and waits behind it. he’s in incredible disbelief right now, i mean, you used to walk around the house with those skimpy pyjamas that barely covered anything, but when you have a whole towel wrapped around your body, he suddenly can’t see you? meanwhile, you were snickering and holding back your laugh at how quickly he complied.

sae let out a breath before knocking a few times on the door, “you done?” and you don’t respond. not because you don’t want to, but you can’t. it’d be impossible to keep this act up without laughing out loud.

only after awhile, you finally respond. “yeah! i’m done, sae.” and you can hear him mutter out a “finally.” before opening the door. you were dressed in those skimpy pyjamas that he knew too well of, cocking an eyebrow as he leans against the doorframe.

“you don’t let me see you in a towel, but you’ll let me see you in that?” much to your surprise, he was more offended than embarrassed that you shooed him out when you were changing. you narrow your eyes at him and tilt your head in mock confusion, “what about my outfit??”

he drops his duffel bag and shuts the door behind him, walking towards you. “doesn’t cover your cleavage. doesn’t cover your stomach. or your thighs. this is more revealing than that towel. plus you’re acting like i’ve never seen your nude body-”

“enough!!” you shriek out in embarrassment from how unfiltered he was (though you’ve known, but you’ll never get used to it.) “it was a prank! i was kidding!” and sae rolls his eyes, slapping your cheek gently to tease you, “better be.”

｜rin itoshi

flinches when you yell, immediately shutting the door and trying to process what happened. but before he does so, rin is basically a blushing mess from embarrassment. then he figures he should probably say something to you. he knocks on the door a few times, stuttering, “a-angel, i’m sorry, i didn’t know. didn’t mean to walk in on you.” and this is when he starts to get confused at you.

hasn’t he seen your bare body multiple times? you’ve even showered together, so why..

and now he’s overthinking. he hadn’t even given you a chance to reply to his apology before immediately blurting out, “are you mad at me? did i do something wrong?” and its weird that he hears a muffled giggling in the room. now he really thinks he did something wrong. you’re giggling because its pathetic he’s apologising, (thats what he thinks) because he fucked up so bad that not even an apology can fix, oh god oh god oh god.

“..baby, please respond?” its almost pitiful at how whiny his voice sounds, almost as if he was on the brink of crying. you try to be as silent as you can and ignore him, but your body betrays you by getting up and walking towards the door. i mean, who could resist him?

he lets out a breath of relief when he hears your footsteps patting against the floor towards the door, as you open it you’re met with your boyfriend frowning like never before.

“rin-” you try not to burst out laughing as you cup his cheeks, but it proves to be useless as you start to giggle, burying your face into his shoulder. “baby, i was kidding, its a prank.” you look up to his face, and its more relaxed. also evident from the way his hands slithered to your waist to hold you close. he wasn’t mad or upset, just relieved, obviously he wasn’t about to say that tho. “..you’re cleaning the bathroom today.” he says before burying his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. “oh cmon!”

｜michael kaiser

doesnt even try to step out. he’s cocking an eyebrow at you after you yelled at him, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. “get out? its nothing i’ve never seen before, sweets.” his smug voice makes you want to rip his skin off.

“its not the same! get out misha, i need to change! just-” before you finish your sentence, he’s slammed the door shut and walked into the bedroom as if it was the most casual thing ever (which it is, but still,) he takes off his sweat-dampened shirt, throwing it into the laundry basket.

you’re confused, but you’re more distracted with his glistening abs, his sweat emphasising his six pack, but before you got too dozed away he starts .. whining?

“oh my goddd! i’m changing too! get out get outtt! you’re staring like a pervert!” he mocks you in a high pitched tone before going back to his usual self, scoffing as he sits onto the bed, looking at your face through the vanity mirror. “that’s how you sound right now. shut your pretty mouth and just change, what are you worried for? don’t trust me?” he scoffs again.

“you’re so infuriating .. makes me wanna maul your face off.” you roll your eyes before getting up and walking to the closet to pick out your clothes, you can basically feel his eyes burning into your back. “death by the hands of a princess? how nice. doesn’t change the fact you sound ridiculous complaining about me being in the same room while you change.” “shut up!!!” you reached out to a random piece of clothing in your wardrobe and threw it to his face, unknowingly throwing your bra.

michael closes his eyes as a soft “thud!” was made when your bra landed on his face, then falling onto his lap. he looks at you with that hellishly smug expression as your face contorts to one of terror. “is this an invitation? don’t mind if i do.” he starts walking towards you with a (😈) expression, and all you can do is roll your eyes and get ready for whatever he has planning for you.

｜seishiro nagi

hes in the middle of playing his games when he walks in, pushing the door open with his foot and doesn’t even notice you were there until you yelled at him. he flinches like a cat who just touched water as you do so, immediately getting out of the room ( even tho he doesn’t know why, he didn’t hear most of it. he just heard you yell at him to get out so he did )

he stands there dumbfounded after shutting the door, his character on the game already died and his heartbeat still accelerating from the sudden fright. he puts his phone back into his pocket before knocking on your door lightly

“hun… are you okay? are you doing something wrong? i didn’t see what you were doing if that makes it better.” he waits for a response, but you can’t even respond to him because you yourself is confused. “wwhat?! i’m changing! i didn’t do anything wrong!” you yell from inside the room, and he tilts his head in confusion. he doesn’t bother to say anything more before walking back into the bedroom shamelessly.

“hey! whaddya think you’re doing?!-” he shuts the door and immediately heads for the bed, groaning out of comfort. “i won’t look. i jus’ wanna lay on the bed.” this man was unbelievable.

“it was a prank, for the record.” you mumbled out, staring at your boyfriends figure, laying on his stomach while sprawled out on the bed. “hnn. pranks. t’much effort to react after practice. reo made me run 10 laps today. tired.” he barely gave you any reaction. what a party pooper!

masterlist

a/n havent wrote kaiser or nagi in a hot while so here u go 😇

dont copy plagiarise translate repost take inspo off my work blablabla

[m34tthews]

current boyfriend — the hughes

an —this trend is soo funny i couldn’t help myself

masterlist

QUINN

your phone is propped up low on the kitchen counter, angled perfectly to catch the shot. the comments have been relentless — please do the current boyfriend trend with quinn, he’s gonna be so confused lol, we need his reaction.

you didn’t want to mess with him like this. not him. but the opportunity was perfect.

he’s still wearing the hoodie he threw on after his shower, sleeves pushed up, focused and gentle as he plates your dinner. the smell of garlic, lemon, and parmesan fills the room. he’s been in the kitchen for almost an hour, soft music playing, asking you to stay out until it’s done.

now, he sets the plate down in front of you with a proud, shy smile and leans down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“here you go, baby.”

you smile sweetly and pick up your phone as the plate is placed infront of you.

“look what my current boyfriend made me,” you say casually to the camera.

his body freezes behind you.

“…current?” he repeats.

you keep the bit going, biting into your pasta like you didn’t just cause minor heartbreak. “yeah. he’s so talented, huh?”

quinn shifts beside you, arms crossing lightly over his chest. “what do you mean current? like… is there an expiration date i don’t know about?”

you nod solemnly, playing it all the way through. “i mean… things happen. people change. contracts expire.”

he squints. “contracts? i didn’t sign anything.”

“well,” you hum, twirling your fork in the pasta, “this relationship has about three weeks left on it. depends on your performance review.”

he just stares at you now. silent. betrayed. lips parted in disbelief. “are you actually serious right now?”

you finally crack a smile. “no, i’m not serious,” you laugh. “you should see your face.”

he doesn’t laugh back. he stays exactly where he is, hovering over your shoulder, looking completely heartbroken but trying to act like he’s not.

you set your fork down immediately. “quinn…”

he doesn’t respond, just kind of leans there. still in the same spot, eyes down, his arms still folded but looser now.

you turn in your chair and reach up to grab his hoodie gently, pulling him closer. he lets you. doesn’t even resist, just sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders when you hug him, chin resting near your temple.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. “it was a trend. everyone begged me to do it.”

“you’re lucky i love you,” he mumbles, still not pulling back.

“you do love me,” you smile, hugging him tighter. “so much that you made me pasta and suffered emotional damage.”

he laughs into your hair, the sound muffled and soft. “never trusting your tiktoks again.”

you smile into his chest. “that’s fair.”

JACK

you know exactly what you’re doing.

jack’s sprawled out on the couch in sweats and a devils hoodie, hair messy from his post-practice shower, arm draped behind your shoulders like he owns the place. he’s barely paying attention, scrolling aimlessly on his phone with the tv playing some random series you’re both half-watching.

you quietly flip your phone camera on, start recording, and glance up at him.

“i’m here with my current boyfriend,” you say into the mic, voice light, eyes innocent.

there’s a beat.

jack doesn’t even turn his head. just freezes. then lowers his phone slowly.

“wait.” he squints. “what the hell did you just say?”

you suppress a grin. “what? i said i’m here with my current boyfriend.”

he snatches your phone mid-recording and pauses the tiktok, staring at you like you just told him you were leaving the country tomorrow with a stranger.

“current boyfriend?” he repeats, louder this time. “why would you say current like that?”

“jack…”

“no, no, no. what is that supposed to mean?” he’s full-on sitting up now, eyebrows high, hands gesturing like you just ruined his entire peace. “current implies there’s gonna be a next. and there isn’t a next. do you understand me?”

you blink, biting the inside of your cheek. “it’s a tiktok trend.”

he scoffs. “i don’t care if it’s a government-issued announcement. don’t put that into the universe.”

you start laughing, but he’s not done. now he’s up on his knees, pointing at you like he’s giving a lecture.

“let me make one thing very clear,” he says, deadly serious. “if i die—if i die—you are going to be alone forever.”

“jack—”

“no, don’t ‘jack’ me. alone. forever. end of discussion.”

you’re doubled over now, laughing into the couch pillow.

“and if you do get another boyfriend?” he leans in closer, wild-eyed. “i’ll haunt both of you. your dreams, your breakfast, your netflix queue. every time he kisses you, the lights will flicker.”

“oh my god—”

“and if he tries to make you dinner?” jack snorts. “the stove’s getting possessed.”

you finally pull the phone back, still breathless, still grinning, and stop the recording for real. he flops back against the couch dramatically, arms crossed, muttering something about “current boyfriend, my ass.”

you crawl over into his lap and press a kiss to his jaw. “you’re my only boyfriend.”

“forever?” he mumbles, eyes still narrowed.

“forever.”

he nods slowly. “good. because i’m serious. the haunting thing? that’s not a threat. it’s a promise.”

LUKE

you’re lounging on the couch in luke’s hoodie, his legs stretched across your lap as he scrolls on his phone. it’s late, the apartment is dim, and your tiktok is already recording when you say it:

“here with my current boyfriend.”

he doesn’t even look up right away. just blinks at his phone, takes a sip of water, then casually says, “that’s funny. i’m here with my current girlfriend, too.”

your head snaps toward him.

“what?”

he finally meets your eyes, totally unfazed. “yeah. she’s great. cool vibes. might keep her for a little.”

you stare at him. “luke.”

he shrugs. “depends on how this week goes.”

your jaw drops. he’s joking. you know he’s joking. but he’s also not blinking, and now you’re staring at him, heart skipping, eyes narrowing.

he keeps going. “and if it doesn’t work out, i already downloaded hinge.”

“luke trevor hughes!” you gasp, shoving his leg off you as you stand up. “you’re actually unbelievable—i’m breaking up with you.”

“that’s not my middle name” he replies nonchalantly. still not giving into her antics

he watches you stomp toward the hallway, one arm crossed lazily behind his head, the other still holding his phone. “oh no,” he says dryly. “please don’t leave me.”

you’re already halfway to the bedroom when he suddenly drops his phone, stands, and catches you around the waist with a quick, easy pull.

“nope,” he says, spinning you around and pulling you back into his chest like it’s nothing. “get back here.”

“let go of me,” you mumble, still pouting, trying to fight a smile.

“never,” he grins, peppering kisses across your cheek. “not letting my dramatic, jealous, adorable current girlfriend storm off in my hoodie.”

you groan. “stop calling me that.”

he laughs against your cheek. “why? you are my current girlfriend.”

“you’re such a menace. i hate you,” you mumble, arms folding as he holds you tight.

“yeah,” he smirks, resting his chin on your shoulder. “but i’m your menace.”

you roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. he kisses the corner of your mouth, proud of himself.

“you’re going to have to make this up with a lot of cuddles and kisses” she comments with her face still riddled with annoyance.

“let’s start now” he nuzzles into her next before leading them back to the couch.

© 2025 M34TTHEWS

[leechqnsgirl]

‧₊˚✩彡‧ all the times I waited, for you to want me naked

-- you and heeseung have been dating for a while now, but he's never made any advances towards you. after tempting him numerous times and getting nothing, you confront him, wondering if the reason is because he doesn't find you attractive. but it's really just the opposite.

18+ | heeseung x fem!reader | wc: 5k | fluff, smut, confrontation scene | masterlist

warnings: language, reader has some slightly insecure thoughts, hee is down badd, kissing, making out, fingering, pussy eating, tiny handjob, piv, cumming inside

****

you loved heeseung, truly.

however, you couldn't help but feel a bit...unwanted by him.

not in a drag-around way. but more like he didn't have a desire or a need to have your body.

the two of you made out, sure, but even when you would, he'd be quick to end it.

at first you thought maybe it was because you two were still early in your relationship. maybe he was just shy.

but then that beginning turned into five months and those five months quickly became eleven.

sure, he was a bit more touchy, a bit more open to you but he didn't ever seem like he craved you.

you groan over the phone with your friend, "I mean, am I the problem?" you got to a point where you had to talk to someone about it. because you weren't even just hurt anymore. you were confused too, more than ever.

"I doubt it." your friend stated. "y/n, have you even tried talking to him?" you bit your lip. "well...no?"

you could hear her sigh disappointingly. "then you might be the problem." she teased over the line, "again. I doubt it. if anything, he's so in love with you! I see it, okay. and in all honesty, I thought you two were already getting it on." you could practically visualize her leaning back into her chair as she says that.

you felt yourself get a bit flustered, closing your eyes as you took a breath in.

"I just don't know what to do now. like is this normal? your boyfriend wasn't like this right?"

she chuckled, "my boyfriend? he cant last a day without getting his dick wet." you groaned. "what is it gonna take for heeseung to be like that." you whined, lying down on your bed.

"look, I have an idea but I don't really know if it'll work."

--

It's been a week since the phone call with your friend. and her plan seemed absolutely ridiculous to you.

according to her, if you tempt heeseung enough, he'll eventually let go and have you.

did you believe that? not exactly.

there's already been a handful of situations between the two of you where any regular man would've fucked you right then and there. but heeseung? nope. it's like there's some sort of curse on you.

or at least that's how you like to put it.

you eventually gave in to trying your friend's idea.

your first attempt was during a movie night. heeseung had called you up saying how he found a movie you two should watch together.

usually you'd settle for one of his tees and some pajama pants. but this time, you wanted to switch out the shirt with a tight low cut tank top, and considering how the weather was changing, you could always say it was just too hot for a t-shirt.

oh, and you'd also decided to go braless.

it was around 8:30 when heeseung arrived at your place.

giving you a kiss on the cheek as he walked in, he asked if everything was ready for the movie.

when the two of you sat down together on the couch, you could tell he put a tiny distance between you and him. not on purpose surely...right?

you let out a quiet sigh, scooting over a bit to cuddle into his side. you had your head on his chest and a hand on his thigh.

it was probably ten minutes into the movie when you noticed he wasn't touching you at all.

either it's working right now or I just made him super uncomfortable... you thought to yourself.

about to call out his name, but you decided against it. instead grabbing the arm that he rested off the top of the couch behind you and placing it on you. leaving it so his hand was around your hip.

you could've sworn you heard his breathing pause.

you're taking this movie night as a success for your first attempt.

--

now for try two you wanted to go a bit more out of the box.

you and heeseung just came home from a dinner date. he took you out for a nice night drive then surprised you with a booked seat at a fancy diner.

he was sitting up against the headboard of your shared bed. you walked over to where he was, pulling your hair to the side. "hee, can you help me with my dress?" you asked, turning so your back was facing him. "sure, baby."

now, usually he'd do it for you and you'd go to change in the bathroom.

and maybe that was the problem. it was little habits of yours like this, that he could've take it as you were hiding yourself or you didn't feel ready around him.

that's not it, really. you were just never used to changing with someone else in the room. but tonight you realized, you don't mind if that someone else is him.

walking over to your drawer, you pull out a large shirt of his. your back still turned towards heeseung, because yes, you were still a bit nervous with this whole plan. you don't think you'd be able to do this facing him. not yet, at least.

you slip off your dress and pull the shirt over your head.

and again, you could've sworn you heard him make a small noise. something akin to a quiet gasp.

he had already changed into his comfortable clothes.

laying beside where he was sitting on the bed, you could visibly see him swallow down nothing. his throat felt dry. and he felt bugs in his legs, like he just had move. but he really didn't want to. he really really wanted to just be able to hold you tightly against him as you two fall asleep. but he's afraid something might interrupt the moment you two could be having.

"I'm tired, hee...are you gonna sleep soon?" he nods his head, "y-yeah..." he clears his throat, standing up.

"i'm gonna use the bathroom real fast."

furrowing your brows, you tilt your head. "okay...come back fast babe. I wanna sleep." you said innocently. knowing you meant it to be everything but.

he was there for ten minutes before you went over to the door. just as you were about to knock, you heard him mumble something along the lines of, "get it together..."

you had to cover your mouth from the giggle you wanted to let out.

did you always have an effect on him and never realized? or is it just because of tonight?

--

your third attempt was when you two went shopping.

you'd been complaining about how you needed new clothes to heeseung. so he agreed to take you out to the mall over the weekend.

only problem? you never told him what kind of clothes you needed to buy.

now again, it really was habits the two of you had built up that were to blame.

whenever you'd go shopping for your own undergarments, you never really invited heeseung into the store with you. but he never asked to come in either. so when you walk into the store, he'd say he'd go to another and see if he can get himself anything while you shop for your personal belongings.

but this time, when you two arrived in front of the store, you didn't let go of his hand that you were holding.

"heeseung, do you wanna come with me today?" you asked, unblinking as you looked up at him.

he brought a hand up to scratch behind his ear, a habit of his for when he was nervous or undecided.

"i-i don't know...I mean, do you need me to?" he sounded nervous. you suppose you're meant to take that as a good thing.

you hold his hand tighter. "all my friends say they do this with their boyfriends.." you said upsettingly, putting on a faux pout. you aren't fully faking your disappointment. you do want him to come inside, but if guilt tripping works. then hey, fake it till you make it...right?

you could see from the look in his eye that he was fighting with himself.

he sighed. "okay. fine. even though i've never met a guy who even goes into these stores with their girlfriends." he said under his breath, hand sweating in your hold.

the two of you walked in and the store was quite busy today. girls hoarding every corner and it seemed like all the changing booths were full.

making your way through the store to where you needed to be, you eyed a few couples in there together. nudging heeseung when you pointed at them.

"see baby, guys do tag along!" he gave you a strained smile, nodding slightly.

starting off at the perfume section, you went though many scents. spraying some on tester cards and some on your wrist or neck for him to smell.

soon enough you made your way over to the sleepwear and undergarments area. you grabbed a few, heeseung offered to hold them for you, while you told him that you wanted to make your way over to the fitting rooms.

heeseung handed you all the clothes you picked out with a red face. as you took them from him, you looked at him with a brow raised.

"um...hee?" he looked at you, croaking out a quiet, yeah?

"come in with me, I need your opinion on the stuff I picked." you could see his eyes visibly widen. he cleared his throat.

"y-you want me to join you?" he knew he probably looked like a tomato by now.

you nodded your head. "well I don't have another boyfriend, do i?" you teased, tugging him by his jacket sleeve into the fitting booth.

after locking the door to the room, you offered for him to take a seat on the stool inside.

you hung up all the pieces of clothes and sets you chose on the rack and began taking off your top.

you could practically feel him get tense before you saw it.

soon enough, you slid off your shoes and shorts that you were wearing. now leaving you in just your bra and panties.

you started with a dark red lingerie sleep dress that caught your eye earlier. it went to your mid thigh and had lace trimmings around the chest.

you turn around from facing the mirror to look at heeseung.

but he was already looking at you.

you waited a few seconds before calling his name, he was clearly not paying attention to your face. his eyes glued to your body.

"heeseung..? how is it?" now he looks into your eyes. his tongue shooting out to wet his lips.

"i-its um, you know, it's nice." he said, running a hand through his hair.

you roll your eyes. sighing before turning around to try on the next item.

you showed him a few more.

you could tell he was only getting more restless and maybe even more impatient by the minute.

it wasn't until you tried on the last set that you could tell he's really had enough.

it was a delicate three piece that consisted of a white bra, underwear and a sheer mesh cardigan that really didn't cover anything. not that it was meant to anyways.

by the time you turned to show him this set, he was facing the ground. his hands tried their best to cover his groin without attracting any attention to the fact that he was trying to hide his half hard cock. you, however, didn't catch this.

before you could ask your repetitive question of how does this one look? he suddenly stood up.

"does this store have a bathroom?" your eyes widened, because there was no way he just asked that.

"this is a lingerie store...why would they have a bathroom?" he sighed, reaching a hand into his pocket. "take my card, purchase whatever you want and I'll be back."

he left his card on the stool. and before you could even utter out the sound of a letter, he was out of the room.

left standing still in pure shock, you began undressing to put on your own clothes again.

did i do too much?

god, he probably thinks I'm a crazy person. you thought to yourself.

you slid his card into the back pocket of your pants, choosing only a few pieces from the many you picked out to buy, leaving the remaining ones in the room.

thankfully the line was short now, you quickly bought everything then made your way out the store.

you saw heeseung walking back towards the entrance of it. once he made it over to you, he took the shopping bag out of your hand and shoved the empty hand in his pocket.

fuck.

--

the whole car ride was quiet. tense.

and when you made it back to your apartment, he was saying something about how he wanted to take a shower.

before he could rush away, you call out for him.

you drop your purse on the ground, sighing loudly.

"you're impossible." he turns his body slightly to fully face you.

"what?" you shake your head. "you make no sense, heeseung." you pause before you continue, trying to collect the right words.

"I mean, eleven months heeseung. we've been together for eleven months." he brings a hand up to scratch his neck.

"what are you talking about?"

"you love me, right? you think i'm-i'm kind and funny and beautiful. right?" you felt your voice start to raise just the slightest.

"of course-" you dropped your hands to your sides dramatically.

"then why don't you want me? or even crave for me?" he paused when you said that. he could see your eyes gloss over a bit.

"everyone I know, heeseung, everyone has basically done it with their boyfriend already. and I'm not saying we have to do that to have a healthy relationship but I mean if you didn't wanna have sex then just tell me!" you take a moment to breathe.

"but I know you want to have sex. m-maybe not with me but I know you've had it before, with your exes. and I don't care about them right now. but, god, it's just killing me inside because," you had to calm down. you don't even know why you're getting so worked up. you've always felt this way, yeah, but, you usually just deal with it.

it seems like this time...you just can't.

"because it has me thinking I'm the problem." you see him open his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

"what is it? am I just not attractive in that way? or hot? or d-do you have someone else?" you whispered out that sentence because even you knew that wasn't true. it was just your own thoughts that were eating you now. consuming you whole and leaving you a broken and crazed mess in front of your boyfriend.

the whole time heeseung was standing still, he didn't know what to say. did you really feel this way this whole time?

he shook his head. "never." he stepped closer to you. "there's never going to be someone else." he sighed.

how do i even explain this to her? he thought.

he sighed, "it's really embarrassing..." he said quietly.

"what?" you sniffled, furrowing your brows.

he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palm. "it's not you, baby, I promise. a-and I had no idea you felt like this." you gave him a blank stare, wanting to hear what he'll say next.

"I'm a coward, y/n. I...I feel so much for you, in so many different ways I just, I don't know how to show it sometimes. and I get nervous. I get scared I won't be able to impress you or be what you deserve." he shifted his gaze from your eyes to the floor.

"you are the prettiest girl ever. really. I mean, no one I've ever met or dated makes me feel this way."

"and I don't wanna seem desperate or horny to you. the last thing I'd want is to make you think all I want from you is your body." now he moved right in front of you, holding both your hands in his.

"i'm obsessed with you, baby. the way you walk, the way you talk and smell and just exist." he presses a kiss to your lips, muttering a small apology. one you knew that its meaning was meant to be louder than its volume.

he lets go of your hands as he goes in for a second kiss. his own hands are everywhere but nowhere at the same time.

he wants to touch you. to feel you. but he doesn't want to move too fast.

getting impatient, you grabbed his hands and placed them on your waist.

breaking away from the kiss, you whispered into his ear, "touch me, heeseung. please."

his knees buckled at that, he had to physically bite back a moan. he moved one hand to the back your head with the other still on your waist. he pushed your head further against his. your hands tangled into his hair and neck, pulling at the hairs on the back of his head whenever he'd bite your lips.

yes, the two of you have made out before and its gotten heated. but this time? it felt so much hotter knowing that there isn't some sort of barrier between you two anymore. knowing that soon enough, he'll have you on your back moaning out his name.

he pulled away from the kiss, ushering the two of you to the bedroom.

he gently pushed you onto the bed, going back in for another kiss.

he moaned, the realization of everything finally dawning on him when he had you under him. all hot and bothered.

"heeseung," you called out to him, "what's wrong?"

he hadn't even realized that he froze for a good few seconds, but when he came back to you, he started trailing kisses down your neck.

"mm, nothing. sorry, baby." he mumbled in between kisses.

when he reached your collarbone, he tugged on the piece of fabric that was your shirt.

"can I...?" you nodded your head, voice too weak to speak right now.

and so with that, he gently pulled your shirt over your head. softly gasping at the sight of your upper body nearly bare.

his hands traced your sides, your stomach, everywhere.

he brought his kisses lower now, to the hem of your pants. this time he didn't ask you, he started slowly sliding your pants down. giving you time for if you suddenly changed your mind.

you never did. and he was so thankful for that.

he felt crazy. insane even. seeing you in just about nothing, only some pity pieces of clothing.

you were so beautiful, he couldn't believe he's never had you like this earlier.

but in the middle of everything, he can't help but feel that anxious and unsettling feeling arise again.

its not your fault, never. it's his and his busy minds'. its thoughts that occur like, if he's good enough for you, can he please you, and whatnot.

"mm, hee..." you squirmed shyly under his gaze.

his eyes quickly flew over to your face, he chuckled quietly. "'m sorry, baby."

heeseung works on his own clothing now, hastily ripping them off.

now, left only in his boxers, he drags a hand over to your clothed pussy.

fuck, he couldnt believe this.

he was touching you right now. him. not anyone else.

his finger presses down on your cunt, making your legs twitch just the slightest.

he starts rubbing small circles over your clit, his other hand gripping the sheets beneath you two.

god, he really wanted to just strip you naked and fuck you stupid. but no. he had to have patience, he didn't want your first time to be a quick fuck. he wanted to have time to get to know your body.

what you love, what you hate, what makes you wet.

he needed to know it all.

he hears you whine out a wait, pushing his hand away from you. he was confused at first, until he saw your slide off your panties.

"y-y/n?" you bit your lip, closing back your thighs.

"hee, I need you to touch me. please." and how could he refuse? with your eyes staring at him all wide, your brows furrowed and your lips chewed up.

your lips. gosh, your lips. he had to kiss you.

crawling up a bit, his lips meet yours. he groans into the kiss when you bring a hand up to his hair.

with your tongues clashing and heavy breathing audible in the room, heeseung brings one hand down and pushes your thighs open a bit.

you lay back on the bed, him still above you.

"baby, I'm gonna start with my hands okay?" he assures, eyes scattering all over your face.

a bit shaky, you nodded your head.

the way he pressed his fingers against your bare warmth made your mind hazy.

you bit your lip, a muffled moan coming from you. and when heeseung started rubbing you, you threw both your hands over your face. the shyness and slight insecurity of the way that you might look got the better of you.

heeseung pulled away from you. "h-huh?" you lowered your hands when you heard a whine from him.

"baby, please can I see you? I need to, I wanna see you come undone for me. please?" he was shameless with the way he begged, voice never even wavering.

and you felt the heat rise up to your face, eyes wide as you processed his words in your head.

his hands went to grab at your wrists. "just...relax."

again you nodded your head.

and just like that he went back again, but this time, his movements were a bit more restless. less patient.

he spreads your legs wider, wanting to get a better view.

his empty hand went to your still bra clad chest. he huffed at the feeling of this fabric under his hands.

getting the hint, you sat up a bit, bringing two shaky hands to take it off.

and he whimpered at the sight. he shut his eyes for a few seconds, letting out an unsteady breath.

he immediately brought his mouth over to your chest, pressing open mouth kisses around your tits but never touching your nipples.

you gasped at a sudden intruding but pleasurable feeling.

he finally stuck two fingers in you, and placed his mouth on your right tit. sucking it, running his tongue all over it as he kept a nice pace on your cunt.

"fuck!" you arched your back, shutting your eyes.

he continued this, switching from left to right but never moving his hand from your pussy.

"heeseung! heeseung, baby-" you cut yourself off with a moan, "im gonna c-cum, please baby." you tangled a hand into his hair, pushing him further into your chest. if that was even possible.

trembling thighs shut themself around his hand as you knocked your head back onto the pillows, moaning loudly as your orgasm hit you.

he groaned against your chest, trapped still by you in every way.

finally, he lifted his head from your chest, moving his fingers out of your cunt.

he looked you right in the eyes as he brought them to his mouth. groaning at the taste of you.

everything he was doing, these were the things he dreamed of doing to you.

still dazed, he doesn't even realize your hands cupping his clothed cock. his body jerks at your touch, a gasp leaving him.

"hee, can you take it off?" you asked shyly, hand still groping him.

he let out a shaky breath, nodding his head as he quickly tugged them down. throwing them somewhere on the floor along with the rest of your clothes.

your eyes widened, you never realized he was this big. if anything, you never really thought about his dick size despite the many fantasies you'd have about him pounding into you, making you go dumb.

you spit into your hand, stroking his cock slowly. you had to get a feel for it, you needed to know how he looked and felt. you needed to.

he moans at the contact, his hands balling into fists. if he didn't know any better, he would have shoved himself down your throat already. but no.

he had to be patient.

it wasn't until you kitten licked his tip that he gently pulled you off him.

"no." he breathed out. "fuck- no, im sorry baby." he says a bit kinder this time.

"i-if im gonna cum, i need it to be in you. I don't wanna cum anywhere else. nowhere else besides that cute cunt. okay?" he pushed you by the shoulder back to laying down.

his hands were shaking. because of nerves, impatientness, excitement. he didn't know.

before he lined himself up, he leaned down to your face. pressing his lips against yours.

his cock brushed against your entrance. he moaned at the feeling.

"oh, y/n." his brows furrowed, he almost looked like he was in pain, in the hottest way ever. "oh, baby, you have no idea. do y'know the amount of times i've had to get myself away from you? because if i didn't, i think i would’ve fucked you one too many times." he chuckles airily.

his tip teases you. "i can't even count how many nights i'd stay up, tugging at my fucking dick to the thought of you." he eases himself in, slowly.

"i'd get fucking hard at anything you do. it's so embarrassing, baby."

hes halfway in, biting back a groan.

"fuck, and when we would make out? the way you'd moan and whine into my mouth had me nearly creaming my pants."

he bottoms out now, throwing his head as his grip on your hips becomes bruising. but in the best way possible.

everything he was telling you had your eyes shutting tight and rolling back.

you never knew any of this. you never would've expected it.

he starts thrusting now, hips strained as he tries his best to go at an even pace.

"and f-for you to think i don't find you hot? or attractive? fuck, that i dont wanna have sex with y-you?" he whines quietly at the end, his hips speeding a bit.

"that made me feel like shit. the last thing i want is for you to think i don't want you." his thrusts kept the same pace but roughened up. slamming into you every so often.

"heeseung." you whimper. "heeseung, i'm sorry, im sorry, i should’ve t-told you." your eyes were getting watery, everything was getting to you.

the pleasure, the pain, the emotion.

he presses a kiss to your jaw. "shh, no, baby. don't be, okay?"

his grabs your hips closer to his now, quieting down as hes focusing on fucking into you, plummeting his hips as you scratched at the back of his shoulders.

you felt yourself get close, pleasureable tears pricking at your eyes.

you squeezed them shut, throwing your head back.

"y/n-" he breathes in deeply, "look at me, baby. c-can you look at me? i wanna-, fuck, i need to have your eyes on me." he groans, bringing a hand to the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he moves it to face him. "I need to see you."

you moan at the feeling of his hands on you, your legs locking behind his back.

"c-cum." you softly whine out.

"what?" he's out of breath, sweat dripping from his temples. "cum. c-cum in me, hee, please. d-don't pull out."

fuck, you might actually kill him.

"you want me to cum in you?" he may have been talking to you, but you knew he was repeating the question to himself.

you nodded your head, bringing a hand to cup his left cheek. "mhm, baby, I love you. s-so much." your voice was shaky when you let out the words. and he felt weak from them alone.

your warm cunt, your beautiful sounds, your pretty face.

it was all you, you, you.

you were always in his mind. you never left it, to be honest.

"f-fuck! baby, I'm gonna cum." he moaned out, "cum with me, okay? please baby, I need to feel you cum with me..." heeseung kept rambling filthy nonsense into your ears, his whiny voice only bringing you closer.

and it wasn't until heeseung was whimpering out a pathetic repetitive mantra of I love you's that he finally came, with you following him.

he dropped his head onto your shoulder, broken sobs leaving his throat despite not a tear falling from his eyes.

it just felt that good to finally have you.

slowly, he pulled out of you. his sticky cum falling out of you a little bit. he groaned at the sight before flopping onto the bed beside you.

the two of you stayed quiet for a bit. catching your breath.

heeseung ran both his hands in his hair, moving it out of his face. you were stuck in your spot, too used up in the best way. too tired to move.

he turned his body sideways to face you.

"I was serious, y/n. I love you. and I'm so fucking sorry for making you feel that way. its never been like that. ever. I promise you, baby."

you smiled, reaching a hand out to rest on his face.

"it's okay. i'm just glad we were able to get through it."

heeseung nuzzled into your touch, breath coming out a bit shaky at your touch. he loved it, he loved the warmth that came with it. he loved it all.

heeseung stood up, grabbing his boxers off the floor as he walked out the room. saying how he was going to get you two some water and something to eat.

when he came back a few minutes later, he had more than just the food.

he had the shopping bag. the one that was full of your newly bought lingerie.

he tossed the bag on the bed by your feet.

"I'm gonna need to see these on you again so I can give you my real opinion."

you giggled, grabbing the glass of water he handed you.

"you sure you won't get all nervous again?"

****

extra notes: so like half way into this i realized someone posted a fic with a really similar plot, i promise im not copying or anything and i tried to contact the writer but her account is down :\

again, full respect to her and her work and i did NOT plagerize. hope u enjoyed the fic :) ♡

[zaynessbeloved]

Zayne’s week had been brutal—an endless shuffle of emergency cases, delicate surgeries, and the kind of pressure that sat squarely on his shoulders without mercy. Sleep had been a fragmented luxury, meals an afterthought. Even texting you had become a late-night indulgence, words exchanged on hospital breakroom couches or between sterile gloves and scrub changes. He hated weeks like this—weeks that stole the hours from him, and worst of all, kept you at a distance he couldn’t seem to cross.

He didn’t expect anything from you. You never demanded anything of him, not even when the silences stretched longer than they should. But you always had a way of knowing. Of stepping into the spaces where his words failed, filling them with something warmer, something that softened the edges of all that intensity he carried like armor.

And so when you walked into the hospital that late afternoon—quietly, unannounced, your hands carrying a familiar white paper bag from that little patisserie tucked between the library and the florist—you weren’t expecting anything in return. The gesture wasn’t grand. It wasn’t even planned. It was just… you. Thoughtful, gentle, and effortlessly attuned to the rhythm of him.

You let yourself into his office, the lights dimmed low, the scent of antiseptic still clinging faintly to the air. The bag crinkled softly as you set it down on his desk, along with a short note scribbled in your handwriting: “For the best heart in the hospital.” A small heart followed the sentence, which you immediately regretted but didn't peel off. Let him tease you about it later.

Inside, perfectly arranged, were his favorite sweets: delicate lemon earl grey macarons, the shells crisp and pale, just the way he liked. A few matcha ones nestled beside them, and a small, flaky pastry you weren’t sure he’d have time to eat—but brought anyway.

You didn’t linger, didn’t want to interrupt if he was between procedures. You slipped out quietly, thinking you’d text him later, maybe tell him where you left it.

But fate had other plans. You nearly collided with him in the hallway just as the office door clicked shut behind you. He was still in his scrubs, a fresh set—light blue, creased at the collar. His hair was tousled in a way that told you he hadn’t sat down in hours, and the look in his eyes was all clinical focus—until he saw you.

Something in his expression broke, just a little. A flicker of light against the quiet storm he carried in his chest.

“You…” he murmured, gaze flicking from your face to the bag in your hand, then back to the closed door behind you. A slow breath left him, the kind that only happened when something eased. “Were you just in my office?”

You gave a soft nod, a sheepish smile pulling at your lips. “Didn’t want to bother you. Just thought you could use something sweet.”

For a beat, Zayne didn’t move. He just looked at you, and the lines of exhaustion etched into his face softened. His hand found yours before you realized he’d even reached for it, fingers curling around your wrist with a gentle urgency.

Then, without a word, he leaned down and kissed you. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t showy. It was slow, almost reverent, his mouth brushing against yours like he was trying to remind himself what it felt like to breathe. Your eyes fluttered shut, surprise giving way to warmth as you leaned into it, letting the moment stretch between you like something sacred.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours. Your smile curved, teasing and tender. “You’re being sweet,” you whispered, amused. “Should I be concerned?”

Zayne huffed a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth barely tilting, but it was real. Real in the way that mattered.

“Thank you,” he said, voice low and steady, his thumb tracing a line across your knuckles. “For thinking of me. Even when I barely had time to think of anything.”

“You’re always on my mind,” you replied simply.

He didn’t answer that with words. He just held your hand a little tighter, as if to say don’t go yet, even if his pager buzzed just a breath later, summoning him back to the chaos.

And as you watched him walk away—just before he disappeared behind the double doors again—he turned and glanced back.

Not with a smirk and not with one of his usual sharp, unreadable looks. But with something soft. Something meant only for you.

Adoration.

[gracie-eilish]

HAPPY PRIDE GRACIEEEE💜💙💚💛🧡❤️

I need 6 and 20 with bestfriend!billie showing r! that she can make her cum harder than her exs

pride prompts!! 🌈✨🏳️‍🌈

happy pride

6. open those pretty eyes for me

20. feels better when a girl does it, huh?

warnings: smut. duh. r!receiving

an: billie and i are in the same “grade” (im a few months younger than her) so i just thought i’d let y’all know she would have had red roots her senior year of college, if she chose that route, and that does things to me.

prompt list

banner by @kodaswrld

billie’s peaceful night home alone was interrupted by the sound of her roommate slamming the front door closed and loudly whining and groaning before even fully taking their shoes off.

she perked up from where she lay on the couch to see you fiddling with your crossbody bag, fumbling with it trying to get it off. followed by you fighting with the buckles on your shoes, throwing the first one to the side followed by the second one a whole minute later. finally your sweater came off and was thrown onto the counter before you stomped into the living room to throw yourself onto the couch.

“well hello to you too!” billie snorted at your little temper tantrum.

“NOT now, billie.” your voice was muffled by a pillow, but the bite was still there. she raised her hands in mock surrender before settling back into her spot to continue watching her show-

“are you even gonna ask what happened?”

ok. so not finishing this episode tonight, billie thought to herself.

“i’m guessing the date didn’t go too well?” she said.

“it was HORRIBLE!! i mean dictionary definition horrible. he was late, he sat on his phone while we waited for a table because he thought I had made the reservation, he barely asked me any questions, scarfed his food down like a dog, i mean should i continue?”

billie bit back a laugh, this did sound like a disaster but you were still her best friend and she felt for you.

“well did you hook up?” she knew the answer to that.

“of course we hooked up, what the fuck billie? if he’s gonna be this bad at dinner, i should at least get sex out of the night.” billie couldn’t argue with that logic, nodding in agreement.

“okay so spill!! tell me everything!!!” she poked at your arm.

you shifted over on the couch to sit criss cross, in front of her.

“ok so, as expected,”

“he’s a terrible kisser,” you both said in unison.

“correct. horrible, genuinely don’t think he has control over his tongue.” billie snorted at that.

you then proceeded to explain the comically horrible sex you had with this man. he couldn’t find your clit, couldn’t find your g-spot, took forever for him to stick it in, and then he came in like five minutes.

“and he didn’t even offer to drive me home!!! i had to PAY FOR AN UBER. after that monstrosity of a date. how pathetic is that?!” billie put her hand on your shoulder, rubbing softly.

“i mean seriously!! how difficult is it to find someone who can be normal, actually good at sex and dare i say, slightly romantic?!”

billie furrowed her brows, thinking for a second. she watched you run your fingers through your hair, and let your palms rest on your cheeks, holding your face up.

“what?” you asked suddenly self conscious of her deep gaze.

“you’re bi right?” you nodded.

“have you ever been with a girl? like on a date or a hook up or somethin?”

“um no. not really. but that doesn’t mean anything!”

“no no no, it doesn’t. i’m not going down that route, you’re still so valid in your sexuality. i was just gonna say, i think you need to go out with a girl. you’ve only been dating men yet you’re attracted to women too!! i think you need one night for a woman to blow your mind and your standards are gonna change completely.”

“oh yeah? and where is this magical woman who’s gonna blow my mind??” you asked scoffing, standing up from the couch to head to the kitchen.

“billie?” you called from the kitchen, her silence now noticeable to you.

“yeah?”

“did you hear me?”

“yeah i heard you.”

“oh.. um okay.”

the silence in the room was thick. even as you opened the fridge to grab a pitcher of water for a drink, the door opening sounded like a rusty gate creaking and the water in your cup, like the ocean.

“y/n, baby?”

baby. that was new…

“yeah, billie?”

“c’mere.”

carefully you put the pitcher back in the fridge and set your cup on the counter for later. her head was turned to the side slightly, to watch you as you walked back over to the couch. awkwardly, you stood in front of her, waiting for her to say something.

“do you trust me?”

“bils, of course i trust you.”

“then let me help you..”

you were confused. you sat down on the ottoman next to the couch, placing a hand on her knee.

“help me? how are you gonna help me?”

with that she lurched forward, kissing you. you were shocked at first, eyes wide open, but soon melted into the feeling.

billie pulled back slightly but was brought right back in when your hand grabbed her cheeks. billie reached out holding your waist, helping you onto her lap, straddling her thighs. only when oxygen was needed did you both pull away.

“open those pretty eyes for me,” she whispered, chuckling softly at the way your eyes stayed closed long after the kiss ended. you were so sure this was a dream and didn’t want to wake up.

when you did, you were met with billie’s smiling face, a little smug, but mostly proud and giddy.

“hi.”

“hi.”

“still want me to help you out?” you nodded furiously, letting her pick you up and wrap your legs around her waist, carrying you to her bedroom.

with a flop and a muffled giggle, you landed on your back, billie hovering overtop of you

“been dreaming about this for so long,” billie’s words were slurred and muffled as she started to kiss down your jaw and neck. you let out a gasp when she (quickly) found your sweet spot…. she had to try so hard not to let her smugness show.

you sat up a bit to let billie’s wandering hands unzip your dress from the back, pulling the strapless dress down your body. she sat back on her feels for a second marveling at your body, clad in a matching red lace set. her brows furrowed and a small pout formed on her lips at the thought of some man seeing you like this tonight and probably not batting an eyelash at how perfect you looked.

“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you teased, nudging her with your knee.

“shut up, you.” she dove back into kissing you, your hands in her hair, hers roaming around your now practically bare skin.

quickly the two of you worked to remove her own layers. her t-shirt ending up on the floor, and a mix of giggles filled the air when her jeans zipper got caught. finally the two of you laid together, bare.

“god, you’re so perfect,” the way billie’s brows furrowed you would think she was about to cry.

you blushed at her compliment as she kissed your cheek before she got up from the bed. she returned donning her strap, making your eyes go wide and your mouth water.

“i’ll go slow,” she whispered. with a soft, caring hand she parted your thighs letting them fall open for her. she slotted herself between them, grabbing the dildo and letting it collect some wetness before she lined herself up.

“you ready?” you nodded.

carefully she pushed herself in, slow as not to jostle you. your heart melted at how gentle she was being, after all you were starting to get a bit sore from your endeavors with your delightful date earlier.

“i’m all the way in. do you need a second? or you feel good?” she pushed some hair from your face, letting some of her body weight rest on top of you.

“m’good. please move bils,” your voice came out breathy and choppy making billie chuckle softly. she propped herself up over you on her elbows, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back into kissing, making you moan out and throw your head back.

“yeahh baby?? you feeling good doll face?” she teased watching your face contort in pleasure.

“yeah,” billie could have cum from the way you moaned out your confirmation. breathy and whiney, just for her.

“feels better when a girl does it huh?” she was so smug, smirking when you lifted your head up to playfully glare at her.

“just make me cum idiot,” you giggled trying to hide your flushing cheeks.

“oh i plan to, my dear. just you wait sweet thing…”

an: i’m sorry if these aren’t super smutty, i’m still getting the hang of it and i only have so many moves i’ve written about so far😂😭 i promise these will get better over the month, just bare with me🥺

[futbolfatale]

Origin Story PT 2

Pairing: Alpha Alexia Putellas/Omega Reader, Omega Mapi León/Omega Reader, Alpha Ingred Engen/Omega Reader,

Summary: You get invited to a Barca game by an Alpha at your school who wouldn't accept.

WordCount: 0.7K

Comment or send me an ask to be added to the woso A/B/O taglist

Okay, maybe going to the after-party was a stupid idea you stumble your way to your 7 am lecture with a pounding headache and an ache in your cunt. You left Mapi’s apartment at 5 and caught a cab to get to your apartment so you could change and get to class on time. There is no doubt that you reek like them, but you didn't have time to shower and get to class on time. Leaving early had the added benefit of avoiding any awkward conversations since they didn’t know where you went to school, and you hadn’t exchanged numbers with any of them. Surely they wouldn’t want to see you again after last night. You can’t help but wonder what life would be like if you were with them, as unbelievable as that is. How happy you would be if you had always had a special connection to the omegas in your life, and this pack has two, so it's like heaven for you.

Your lectures wrap up about four hours later, and you trail out into the hall, trying to avoid Maddie like the plague. But her lily and patulio scent hits you like a brick wall, making you stop in your tracks. It seems your efforts are for nothing as Maddie rounds the corner, walking directly toward you. So, of course, you, like any normal person, turn and start speed walking away from her. “Are you seriously running away from me right now?” She growled, snatching your wrist. “Oh, sorry, Maddie, I didn’t see you.” You smile falsely at her. “You owe me. I can’t believe you just abandoned me at the game, You could have at least helped me out.” She glances down at her sweats, and your eyes naturally follow. “I don’t believe I owe you anything.” You try to pull away, but her grip stays strong. She pulls your hand to palm her cock through her sweat and you bite back bile.

“Bebita, there you are,” a voice down the hall calls at you, the strong scent of (Insert Here) filling the hall. “Oh, so you're a slut just not for me” Maddie spits. “Get your hands off my omega,” Alexia growls. She grabs Maddie’s wrist, holding it so hard that you fear it might snap. “And who do you think you are?” Maddie tries to pull away, but can’t, and a look of fear crosses her face. Alexia just pushes her away and pulls you behind her and out of the school quickly. “How did you know I was here?” You ask as Alexia helps you into her car. 

“I made a call, Mapi and Ona were so sad when they woke up, so I promised to come find you and let them tell you how much of a bad girl you are.” She leans across you to buckle your seatbelt, and her scent overwhelms you. “Im the bad girl’ you ask, slightly annoyed with her. “You left without saying anything. It won’t be safe for you by yourself anymore.” Alexia warns as she pulls out of the parking lot. It hits you that you are in a car with this woman you barely know; this is the beginning of every kidnapping. “Maybe I should go.” You try to pull on the door, but it’s childproof.

“Wherever you want to go, I’ll take you, but you can’t go alone.” Her eyes never once leave the road as she speaks. “And why can’t I go alone?” You say with some bite, your scent no doubt turning sour. “The paparazzi will be all over you. Pictures from the party are all over. Plus, I wouldn’t be surprised if my pups were already in you.” She smirks, and it makes you want to bite her and not in a sexy way. “I can’t have your pup. I can't have anyone pup in school full time.” You try to open the door again to no avail. “Mapi and Ona can’t have pups till they retire. We need you.” Alexia’s voice has turned to a needy whine. “So you want me to be a baby maker?”

“No, I want you to be our omega, and pups would be an added bonus. Just see if you like it for one week. If you hate it, you can go back to school, and we will leave you alone,” Alexia promises. “ I can’t not go to school; I’ll lose my scholarship.” You are over this whole conversation, but she doesn’t seem to be letting it go. “ I will sponsor your school, please. Just try, that's all im asking you. ”I can even make up a contract if that will make you feel better. Alexia looks like a kicked puppy, and you can’t kick her again. “Fine, one week”.

[kilojulietsierra]

Baby, It's Alright - Chapter Three (Dr Robby x FemNurse!Reader)

Ok y'all the storms were messing with my internet last night so sorry for the delay, but here it is!

TW: All my content is considered 18+ so proceed accordingly, fluff, a little smut, early days of dating miscommunication, Robby is a bad influence but also wants to spoil her so bad, mentions of therapy, language, Sam makes another cameo, grammar and spelling cuz I don't edit this shit lol

Need to catch up? Chapter One Chapter Two

~~~~~~

Chapter Three

Michael had let you pick the restaraunt, which you appreciated. You'd picked a small place a few blocks from your apartment. A hole in the wall tavern with an eclectic drink menu and a margherita flatbread you could live on if you allowed yourself. The litghting was dim, the interior was all brick and reclaimed wood, the music was soft and jazzy, you loved this place. You also loved the way Michael looked as he glanced over the menu with his glasses on.

"Friendly reminder, I'm old." He deadpanned from beside you at the bar.

"Not even close to what I was thinking." You can't quite look at him when you say it so you pretend to read the menu.

His knee bumps yours to pull your attention back, "And what exactly were you thinking then?" He settles his eyes on you, the glasses just low enough on the bridge of his nose that he can study you over the top of them.

You wish you had a drink already because your mouth goes a little dry, "Definitly not that you're old." You avoid the question and your cheeks warm at the way he smirks.

He let's it go, though he continues to look skeptical, maybe a little mischievous. "Jack gives me hell, says I should just get lasik. Says it's life changing."

"I like the glasses." You can't bring yourself to look at him when you say it, except out the corner of your eye. Enough that you catch the way his smile ticked up to one side.

"Good to know." Michael nodded and went back to the menu, "Very good to know."

~~~~~

Michael walked you home after dinner and it was chilly enough in the evenings now that you felt justified in sticking close to him. You thought your heart was going to stop when he reached over to grab your hand and pulled it, guided it easily so that he could link your arm through his.

It felt good, it felt easy and right and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep what would surely be the most ridiculous smile off your face.

He opened the door to your building for you, and when his hand settled in the middle of your back to guide you through you were nearly certain you would spontaneously combust.

Michael though, Michael seemed so calm and quiet, kept the same easy smile on his face like it was completely normal. When he helped you out of your coat, finally inside your apartment, you entertained the thought. How nice would it be for this to be your normal?

"You want something to drink?"

You grin, "He asks me in my own apartment."

Michael grinned back at you and leaned against the counter in your tiny kitchen, "Well?"

You chew your lip and concedes, "There's a bottle of wine in the fridge, nothing fancy." You try not to feel silly. Your mind automatically jumped to Jack and Sam's house with it's wine cooler and collection of whiskey and bourban. "Sorry, I don't have any bourban or anything like that."

He had already opened and closed the door to your fridge and begun the search through your cabinets for glasses. "Don't need anything fancy." He said it offhand, but then Michael must have seen the look on your face, "Hey, what's wrong?"

You hesitated, "Honestly, just feeling kind of silly I guess." T

he cupboard door thunked and he crossed the small kitchen, his eyes scanned your face and then before you could explain yourself futher Michael was kissing you.

Dr.Michael Robinavitch, was standing in the tiny kitchen, of your tiny apartment, towering over you, one warm hand on your cheek... and kissing you. It was soft and slow and over too soon. "Better?" His smile was soft, his eyes warm and searching as he tried to read your expression.

Your breathing still hadn't regulated, your mind still racing, but you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "Maybe, a little."

When his smile widened and he leaned in to kiss you again, it felt like your heart was going to break free from your chest. His hand didn't move, he didn't move, he only kissed you. Smoothed his lips overs yours in long, steady passes.

When he pulled back he tugged your bottom lip with him and he must of liked the way it made you giggle because he dropped one more kiss to your lips. His thumb stroked over the place where he had treated the airbag burn on your cheeks the couple weeks before. Like an afterthought he tipped his head and dropped a kiss there too, lips just brushing the apple of your cheek. "How about now?" His voice was low and warm and close enough to your ear to send shivers down your spine.

"Feel like I could use that drink now." You couldn't help the near giggle that escaped, but you also couldn't help but notice the way Michaels gaze darted lower, his cheeks a little pink, when you bit your lip to stifle it.

He gave you a smirk and a half chuckle, "I can make that happen." HIs thumb stroked over your cheekbone one more time and then he was back on his search for wine glasses. "Go sit, I'll bring it over."

You did as he said and watched him from your little loveseat as he moved through your kitchen and poured the wine. As he approached you felt simultaneously embarassed by the tiny couch in your tiny apartment, and beyond grateful for it because it left little room to sit anywhere except right up against him.

When he brought you the wine he handed you a glass and then dropped himself into the empty corner of the sofa. He turned to face you, right arm drapped over the back, one leg folded up on the seat cushiion. WIth his other hand he raised his glass, "To finally getting that second date." He clinked his glass to yours, "Worth the wait."

The only answer you could form was an embarrasingly giddy smile that you immediately tried to hide in your wine.

Michael grinned wider and took a sip for himself. "If I can ask, why did you say you felt silly?"

You took another hurried sip of wine and then shook your head, "Nothing really."

He looked at you in a way he hadn't since that first night at Jack and Sam's. Like he was trying to figure something out. "I'd like it if you'd tell me." His expression was so soft, curious, eyes so sincere.

"Well," You start, "Maybe it's stupid, probably is, but I guess it's just that... I really like you and spending time with you and it's just sort of, jarring maybe," You twisted up your face trying hard to put your feelings into a coherent sentence. "Now that i'm saying this out loud I'm actively realizing it's stupid." You busted out into a laugh and finally just spit it out, "My apartment is tiny and embarrassing, and I only have these two wine glasses, like maybe four forks, the bedding on my bed right now is from Walmart and it's like four years old. Feel like I'm playing out of my league I guess."

If the embarrassment didn't kill you after spitting all that out, the look on Michaels face might.

Michael simply shook his head, his grin still present but softer, "You understand that none of that,"

"I know." You interrupt him, shake your head at yourself and lean your head against your hand, mirroring Michaels position opposite you. "I... I do know. Think you just..." the words trailed off as you really studied the way the man across from you was looking at you. The effect it had on you, "You have me all flustered."

His grin turned into a smile, a chuckle even, and he turned his head to one side as he stretched his arm towards you over the back of the couch. Warm, gentle fingers tugged at your wrist until your arm was laid over the back of the couch like his. Michaels fingers traced over the inside of your wrist. He locked eyes with you and kept his voice low, "You think I'm not?"

~~~~~~

You and Robby were dating.

You were dating Dr. Michael Robinavitch.

Dr. Michael "Robby" Robinavitch sent you cute text messages, called you on the mornings or evenings your schedules didn't line up, he even occasionally sent you Doordash while you were on shift.

Like tonight, for example, when you walked past Sam where she sat behind the nurses station at her computer. Her eyes locked on yours with a very satisfied smirk on her face.

"What?" You attempted to play it off as you settled into an empty chair behind the station.

Sam just shook her head, "Didn't say anthing."

"You're thinking something, I can tell." You rolled your eyes as you dug into the bag from your favorite Italian place.

The charge nurse grinned and spun her chair to face you, "You guys are just cute, that's all." Her grin doubled when you pretended to be overly invested in your late night lunch. Sam spun back to her computer, "Wish I had someone to send me lunch from my favorite place in the middle of a long shift."

You scoffed, "Oh please." You stopped with the plastic fork halfway to your mouth. "I wIsh I had a shiny new $90,000 SUV."

Sam laughed as she picked up her water bottle and spun back around to face you, "Just have to ask really nice." She threw you a wink before she took a long drink of water.

"I don't know about that," You paused again to look at your forkfull of food, "Feels weird when he spends money on me, even stuff like this." You took the bite of pasta finally. Savored it for a moment. "Feels like mooching or something."

WIth a scoff Sam spun a circle in her chair, "Honey, not to be that person, but do you know what your new boyfriend makes a year?" Her eyes were wide when she hunted for your gaze, "He has the money to spend, and I know Robby well enough to know that shit like that," She points to the lunch he'd sent you, "That's like a love language for him. He likes taking care of people, especially his people."

The radio on the desk by Sam's computer crackled and squelched before you could respond, or even think through how you would respond. Ambulance service was en route.

You shoved a few more bites of the pasta in your mouth as fast as you could without choking and tried not to get hung up on the fact that Sam had used the word boyfriend. You and Robby were dating, but the words boyfriend or girlfriend hadn't been used, and as silly as it may have been that suddenly made you a little less confident in your new relationship status. '

~~~~~

Want to get dinner tonight? Promise I'll try and get out on time.'

You had stared at that text message longer than you'd care to admit. Wasn't like it was a booty call, it was dinner. Michael had a long weekend and you had the night off. It would make sense to go out, but you had got into your head again.

He sent you the sweet texts, he called you, he took you out, sent you lunch at work, kissed you. In fact, he kissed you like no man had ever kissed you before, but you hadn't yet talked about where this would end up. Did you want the same thing?

When the phone in your hand vibrated you nearly dropped it. Michael Robinavitch.

"Hey."

"Hey, didn't know if you saw my text, want to grab dinner?"

"Michael, am I your girlfriend?" The words were out of your mouth before you could even think twice. Your stomach dropped as you heard yourself speak them outloud.

For a moment the line was quiet. "Yes... at least... I've been working under that assumption." Another long pause. "Is that okay?"

"I'm sorry I," "

Hey, no, Don't apologize. Just..." The deep inhale was audible through the phone, "Can I come pick you up?"

Twelve minutes later there was a knock at your door. You'd spent most of that time panic cleaning and trying not to feel like you were going to be sick. Like you hadn't just messed this up. When you opened the door you stood up straight and prepared for... you didn't know what.

Michael was standing there in his scrubs and a wellworn Carhartt coat with snow still melting on the shoulders. He looked tired, but he still smiled when he saw you.

"Hey." Your voice barely registered to your own ears.

He just tilted his head to the side a bit and his smile grew a little, "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

You took a shaky breath and fidgeted in place, "Nerves I guess. We haven't really... labeled this and I think I just got into my own head."

Michael nodded, "Ok." He shoved his hands deeper into the coat pockets, "Well, I had a long fucking day and I'm starving. So, now I would like to spend the evening with my girlfriend. So, why don't you, said girlfriend, go grab your stuff? We'll swing by the house so I can shower and change quick, then you can tell your boyfriend," He smirks a little at the way you're making a face at him, "Which is me, by the way," He points to himself, "Where you want to go for dinner. Sound good?"

Your cheeks are warm and you can't decide whether to roll your eyes or smile like an idiot. So, you do both. "Yeah, that sounds good."

~

You furrowed your brow as you stared out the passenger window of Robby's truck. It never really occurred to you, not that you'd been dating for that long, but you didn't know where he lived. Now, as you drove down another tree lined street with little shops and the old, colonial style townhomes you realized you maybe should have asked. "You live in Shadyside?"

"Mhmm. Bought a place over here few years ago. Got it quote unquote cheap because it needed some work." He glanced over at you as he hit the blinker and turned a corner, "Not what you were expecting?"

"I didn't say that." You gave him another eyeroll and watched him grin, "Not sure what I was expecting I guess."

He slowed down and hit a button above the rearview mirror, "Well," He turned into the short drive and pulled the pickup into the ground level garage, "I dumped about half of what I paid for it into renovating it, so hopefully you approve, because I'm stuck with it for awhile."

When he let you into the house you stuttered to a stop just inside. Your heart dropped at the fact that you had ever let Michael see the inside of your tiny apartment, let alone made him sit on the floor with you and eat. You didn't move until you heard the thud of Michaels backpack and felt two hands settle on your shoulders, "I'm going to go wash the hospital off me quick." He kissed the back of your head, "Make yourself at home, snoop around, help yourself to… whatever." He dropped another kiss to the back of your head and then headed upstairs.

In your mind you had imagined Michael in something like Jack and Sam had. A nice house in the suburbs, lots of room, neat and tidy, maybe a pool. You were wrong, because this house, this house fit Michael Robinavitch in a way a house in the suburbs never could. It was warm, lived in but not quite a mess, not roomy, but comfortable. You felt like you could easily make yourself at home in the space, but you weren't sure if that was because of the house, or because it belonged to Michael.

~~~~~

Robby had showered quickly and tried not spend too much time thinking about the fact that he finally had you in his house. He had just stepped back into the bedroom to change when he paused. He heard something, More than just you moving around the house, so he pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt and headed back downstairs.

If he'd been nervous those feelings disappeared instantly as he came back downstairs and paused around the corner. Robby smirked to himself as he watched you move through his kitchen. Took the moment to stand back, quiet his breathing and watch until you caught him.

You paused, eyes wide and one hand on the refrigerator door, "How long have you been standing there?"

Robby chuckled, "Long enough." He stepped the rest of the way into his kitchen, "What're you looking for?"

"Oh," You looked around, "I thought maybe instead of going out to eat we could make something here."

He took a couple steps closer, smiled and nodded, "I'm guessing you've figured out that I need to get groceries?"

You laughed and Robby couldn't help but smile wider to see it. "Yeah, you really do."

"Okay with takeout? At least for one more night."

"That depends." You bit your lip.

WIth another chuckle Robby shook his head, "You really want Gio's again?" The way your smile doubled told him everything he needed to know. "Ok, pick out a bottle, I gotta go grab my phone and my wallet." He gestured to a built in wine cooler and disappeared back upstairs.

By the time he made it back downstairs, rattling the last few digits of his card off, you had picked out a bottle of wine and apparently found the bottle opener and two glasses. He hadn't needed to ask what to order for you, you always got the same thing, which he found adorable. "Said should be fifteen to twenty."

You met him in the middle of the kitchen with a glass for him, "What do you want to do while we wait?"

Robby grinned, shook his head a little at the glint in your eyes, "How about," He took the glass and set it down before guiding you around to one of the stools tucked under the kitchen island, "We talk about what you said earlier." He held your gaze as he leaned against the opposite side of the island from you, "Because apparently there's been some... miscommunication there. Which is mostly my fault. So, you were worried that this wasn't...?" He let the question trail off in the hopes you would fill in the blank for him.

After a long sip of wine you laid your hands flat on the marble counter top and nodded, "So, Sam said something at work."

Robby let his head bob, snorted because of course it was Sam. Sam always had something to say

"She called you my boyfriend, and it just made me realize we haven't really... put a name or a label on any of this and..." You took a deep breath, flicked your eyes back up to his. "That makes me nervous."

At first he just nodded, tried to hear what you were saying and really understand where you were coming from. "Because that made you think maybe this wasn't as serious as you wanted it to be?" He took an educated guess. When you nodded and looked back to the countertop, Robby nodded along. "I meant what I said when I picked you up tonight. You are my girlfriend. At least that's how I think of you" He scratched at the back of his neck, hearing how silly it sounded, and ducked his head to try and get you to look at him again, "This is real for me, I'm sorry I didn't make that clear." You finally looked up at him, eyes a little glassy, and he gave you a wink, "I'm just a little rusty is all."

You took another sip of your wine and smiled, "Sorry, i've been kind of weird."

Robby brought his wine glass with him as he circled back around the island to come closer to you, "Look at us." He hooked a finger under your chin and tipped your face towards his so he could kiss you briefly, "Communicating." He kissed you again, just a little longer that time.

"Therapist would be so proud." You smiled up at him, chuckled at him when he scrunched his face up and looked away.

"Shouldn't make fun of me." He dropped his hand from your chin to lean on it, fingers splayed wide over the marble counter. "I'm not." You chuckled as you looked up at him. His heart misfired when you raised both hands to rest over his chest.

"I think it's sexy you go to therapy."

"Jesus Christ." He murmered and chuckled at himself, his brain short circuited as he watched your smaller hands smooth over the front of his shirt. It made you laugh, which made him happy. "Anything else would you like to communicate about?" Robby liked the way you rolled your eyes at him. It made him want to do and say whatever it took so you'd keep doing it. He also liked the way you always had to bite back a smile while you did it. "Anything at all?"

You looked up at him from your seat on the stool, grin on your face, and seemed to think for a moment, "We could talk about why you've been slumming it, coming over to my itty bitty, sad little apartment instead of asking me to come over here."

"You assume I've never lived in a cheap apartment?" He grinned and studied your face, got the feeling you were only half teasing. "I wanted to spend time with you, doesn't matter to me where that is." He nodded to himself briefly and then gave you a smile. "This is still new, we're still figuring it all out." He took an extra step closer, dropped a hand to your knee to turn you towards him so he could kiss you again. "Now you know that you are definitley my girlfriend," He gave you an encouraging smile and another kiss, "You also know you can spend as much time here as you want." He spoke the words a breath away from your lips, close enough that he could feel you smile, "Preferably a lot of time."

~~~~~~

You were making out with Michael.

You were sitting on the couch, making out with your boyfriend, Dr. Michael Robinavitch, when you were supposed to be doing homework.

It had started innocently enough. You had the night off and a paper due. Michael had told you to come over and work on it at his place. Which is how you ended up on the couch, your back to his chest while you typed away and he read through case notes on his tablet.

You couldn't remember for sure when his free hand had moved to your arm and his fingers had started to stroke absentlmindedly over your skin. At one point he had startled you, his voice low and so close to your ear as you typed, "That study came out in twenty two not twenty three."

"Are you reading over my shoulder?" You teased even as you pulled up another tab to verify the dates.

Michael just chuckled and kissed the back of your head, kept his lips there, "Sounds good so far." He pressed another kiss behind your ear. "Almost done?"

"Almost." You corrected the date you'd cited for the study. Michael had been correct. You bit back a grin, "It'd go faster if you quit doing that."

"Doing what?" He chuckled even as he kissed the spot again.

"Distracting me." You let yourself smile, but continued typing. Or rather tried to.

"When's it due again?"

You heard the thunk of the tablet as he set it down on the end table and then the lighter sound that must have been his glasses as he set them down on top of it. Then both his hands were on you. "Uh," You had to think for a minute, "Not until tomorrow night. Midnight."

"Hmm." Robby wrapped his arms around you and pulled you tighter to him, "Plenty of time."

"You're supposed to be an educator, should be a better influence than this." You griped, but you still hit save and closed your laptop.

"Oops." He chuckled as you settled back into him and let him take your laptop to move it aside.

You never turned around to face him, just let him hold you like he had been and tip your face towards his. HIs hands on you, but never inappapropriat, never pushing too far. Or maybe not pushing far enough, you couldn't decide. Eventually you started to fidget, "Michael…"

"Hmm?' Was his only response, other than a large hand settling on your hip to keep you still.

After another long, mind numbing kiss, you chuckled, "I don't even know."

Michael grinned, snuck a thumb under the hem of your shirt and stroked it over the warm, soft skin underneath, "Why don't you stay here tonight?"

You froze. That was new. Very new. Coming over and spending time with him, in his home, had become a common occurrence, but you'd never stayed the night.

"You sure?" Your voice was soft when you turned more to look him in the eye.

HIs thumb continued to stroke back and forth over your hip, "Up to you, sweetheart." His eyes locked on yours and held, face soft, hint of a grin fighting at the corner of his lips.

For a long moment you were torn. The idea of spending the night with Michael was terrifying and exhilerating. You two had been going slow, taking your time, this would be… new.

"Hey," Michaels voice was soft and his breath warm against your ear, "Not asking for anything, just…don't want you to leave just yet."

You chewed on your lip for a beat, "Work tomorrow?" When Robby shook his head his grin grew another fraction. "Trying to mess up my sleep schedule more than it already is?"

Robby chuckled, "Can stay up as late as you want." He pulled you back in to another, slower, softer kiss. "Maybe even sleep in."

Barely a whisper you added, "I didn't bring anything to sleep in."

HIs face split into the smile he'd been fighting back, "Even better." He laughed when you elbowed him, hard.

"You really are a terrible influence." You scowl at him over your shoulder, but you couldn't hold it long.

"Don't tell anyone." Michael tossed you a wink and reached to pull you back to him, his eyes locked on yours. HIs Adams apple bobbed as you leaned back into him and he settled his hands on your hips. Not guiding, not pulling, only holding. "Hey," He paused, like he hunted for the words, "It's alright," He paused to inhale deeply as you leaned into him, "Baby, it's alright if…"

You stopped him with a kiss, reached behind you with one hand to pull him to you, "It's alright if I want to stay?"

He smiled, smoothed his hands up your sides. "I'd like it if you did."

"If I stay will you let me finish my paper?" You looked back at him, eyebrow raised.

Michael seemed to consider, "Eventually." He kissed you again, and then let you get comfortable, sink back into him. His hands didn't stop though. His breath warm against your ear, his hands smoothed over your hips and your sides. "Maybe tomorrow."

Your brain had already checked out of any further, meaningful conversation. The only thing on your mind was that you were cuddling on the couch with Michael, making out with Michael, his hands on you, his beard brushing against the smooth skin of your neck. For the rest of the night you could stay like that, there on the couch in his arms if you wanted. Once again his thumb slipped under your shirt, smooth, repetitive strokes.

You could've stayed there as long as you wished, but you wanted more.

A little shocked by your own boldness you dropped your head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, as you smoothed a hand down his forearm. You settled your own hand over his and coaxed it further under your shirt. The satisfied hum, nearly a moan, slipped out as his heavy, warm hand spread wide over your stomach. His touch smoothed up and over your ribcage, his thumb within centimeters of your bra. The next sound you made was much closer to a proper moan and you could feel the way Michaels chest rumbled with a chuckle. "That feels good." You whispered as you felt his lips ghost across your neck.

"Yeah?" His tone matched yours as his left hand joined the other under your shirt. He pressed short kisses over the length of your neck. When you nodded, the kisses grew longer, wetter. "Good. I want you to feel good."

All you could do was nod.

"Want me to stop?" He slowed his movements.

"God no." Your eyes snapped open only to be met with his. Dark and shining with something, a grin on his face.

He brushed his nose a long your jaw before coming back for a kiss, "So, I can keep going then?"

You nodded and he slid his hands higher, the overwhelming heat of it forcing your eyes closed again.

"You want me to make you feel good?"

"Please."

His grip on you tightened with a tremor, his arms locked around you as his fingers dug in and Michael murmured out a strangled, breathless, "Fuck." Into your hair. He let out a long, unsteady breath and moved with a lazy purpose. One hand up and up, over a breast to slip easily into the cup of your bra to squeeze you. His thumb rolled over your nipple like he knew exactly where it would be, how much pressure to apply.

It makes your body react without your permission as you arch up into his touch. "Robby…God."

"Michael." He corrects you, words hot against your ear as his lips close over your earlobe and his grip on your breast tightens.

You whimper, your body rolls again and your own hands grab at his jean covered thighs on either side of you, "Fuck, sorry, Michael. Feels good."

"Good girl." The fingers of his other hand dipped, just barely, past the waistband of your own jeans, "Can I?"

There was no need to ask what it was he wanted, you had a pretty good idea, and besides that you would let Michael do just about anything he wanted to you at that moment. "Yes," Your hips pushed up into his touch, "Please."

His hold on you tightened, pushed you back so you were pressed against him completely again and Michael half chuckled half growled in your ear as he did it. "So sweet." His hand on your hip moved, joined the other, his fingers working together to undo the button and the zipper.

You couldn't help but watch, breath caught in your throat, as he slid his hand further. As it crept closer and closer to where you wanted it. No sound escaped you when his first finger found you so wet and warm, only a long studdering exhale as you let your eyes fall closed again.

Michael also kept silent, his attention focused entirely on where his hand disappeared into your pants. That same, singular finger stroked over you, the tip just barely dipping into your warmth with each stroke. Just when you thought you would have to say something, to ask for more, he gave you more. Like he had read your mind he dipped his middle finger in, one steady move, to the knuckle. His lips pressed to your temple and stayed there as he continued.

Before long he had established a pattern. His finger would sink in deep and then withdraw to circle around your clit. Once, twice and then back to tease you from the inside out. Over and over he did this, like nothing else existed in his world, until your hips had picked up the rhythym. WIth each sweep of his finger you couldn't help but lift your hips up to chase the sensation, then almost immediately grind back against him.

When the silence was finally broken it was with a rumbling chuckle, mostly a groan, Michaels breath hot against your ear, "Going to make me embarrass myself." His other hand settled heavy and firm on your hip, dragging your ass back against his erection and then trapping you there. He held you there with one hand while the other picked up the pace, the same pattern, the same motion, only quicker.

The sound his wrods and actions drug from you would be embarrassing if it hadn't made his own hips shift against yours. "Michael…"

"God," It game out as a whisper, but he sped up his hand, no longer teasing. Now he was chasing after something, "Never going to get tired of that." Then there was two fingers, faster, rougher, "Say it again, baby."

You did as he asked, whined out his name as he stoked the fire inside you.

"Say it again." He repeated himself.

"Michael, please." Like every strong, independent, feminist part of you lept out the window the only thing you wanted in that moment was for this man to make you cum. Now.

His hand moved faster,so borderline rough that you didn't have to move your hips. He was moving them for you. His touch shifting your hips under his fingertips as he focused all his attention on the swollen little bundle of nerves and ground his erection against you from behind, "Fuck baby, it's alright. It's alright, go ahead and let it go for me. Give it to me." Michael spoke, moaned, every word into your ear as his lips and teeth and tongue sucked and carresed and nipped at the sensivtive skin until your body seized up in his arms.

No more cute, needy little whines. You let out one, single, strangled gasp of his name as you came. Your head spinning and your entire body alight, like every nerve ending lit up at once.

Michael groaned, deep and louder than anything he'd let slip before. His arms bulged as they locked around you.

It took a moment, your brain barely functioning, for you to realize that Michael had cum with you.

"I'm sorry," He brushed his nose over the shell of your ear, chuckled at himself as he kissed over your neck.

WIth one limp arm you reached behind you to grab Michael by the back of his head and pull him to kiss you properly. "Oh baby, it's alright." You smiled into the kiss, a happy, satisfied little giggle escaping against his lips.

His fingers slipped back inside you and he cracked a scandalous smile when you trembled at the sensation. "We should go to bed."

When you whined, he chuckled again. Sleep was the last thing on your mind.

The fingers inside you swirled, curled, scissored as it to stretch you out and Michael whispered to you again, "Baby, I'm old, but I'm not that old." He nipped at your earlobe. "Nowhere near done with you yet."

~~~~~~

Chapter Four Coming Soon!

If you enjoyed this and haven't already checked out the rest of the connected stories you can find them here! -> Save Me From Myself

[hischiershoe]

Friends to lovers with Quinn I beg… I luv a slow burn.. ur the best🫶

With this prompt: 04. "you sure this looks fine?" "trust me, you look fine as hell…

tysm for requesting, i hope you like it!!

no warnings! just cute awkward quinny boy

Quinn's been buying his own suits for years now. Well, sort of on his own. He always begs you to come along with him under the guise that he needs an extra pair of eyes. When you'd asked him why he didn't ask one of the guys, he was quick to brush you off with a nervous excuse about how 'their fashion taste isn't as good as yours'.

In reality, Quinn just wanted to spend time with you in any capacity that he could, and you would never turn down an opportunity to see him. Despite the two of you only ever labeling the other as friends, you both knew there was something else between you lying just beneath the surface. It wasn't a matter of if it would ever come to light, it was merely a gamble of when it would.

His suit for the NHL awards was no exception to the undeclared rule between you, and that is exactly how you ended up on an uncomfortably expensive couch waiting for him to come through the curtain in his newly tailored suit. You were tiktok mid-scroll when you heard Quinn's muffled curses from the dressing room, and you were instantly on your feet and making your way towards him.

"Quinn," You call out, not wanting to pull back the curtain in case he was indecent, "Is everything okay?"

"I can't tie this damn tie the right way," He grumbles, his voice laced with frustration and annoyance.

"You want me to do it," You earnestly ask, your features softening though he can't see you, "I used to help my brother with his all the time."

You hear him let out a quiet sigh of relief, quickly followed by the curtain being pulled to the side so that you're able to see him entirely. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you take him in, admiring the way the suit clings to him because it was made perfectly to his body. It takes every ounce of your willpower to shake off the urge to stare, and to step into his space as he holds the tie out towards you.

"I don't usually wear ties," He awkwardly mumbles, shifting his gaze anywhere but on you.

"I know you don't," You softly chuckle as your fingers work with the material, "I think you should, though. They look nice."

Being so close to Quinn made your heart thud in your chest, it made it almost impossible to focus on tying it the correct way and pulling the cloth the right way. At one point, someone rushed behind you and Quinn was quick to move you out of their path by pulling you flush against him. The moment was short, gone almost as quickly as it had arrived, but it still made every nerve in your body fire off at once until your ears were ringing.

"Sorry," He bashfully apologizes as you tighten the knot of his tie.

"No worries," You reassure him, glancing at him before you step away, "You're all tied up. It looks good."

Quinn's cheeks redden at your compliment, but he doesn't say anything as he turns around to look at himself in the mirror. You stay a couple of feet away from him, watching as he smooths out his suit jacket and messes with its cuffs. Watching him check himself out made you have to bite your lip to keep yourself from giggling, but it made the warm feeling in your chest blossom.

"Are you sure it looks fine," He calls out over his shoulder.

"Trust me, Q. You look fine," You nod before your voice falls a few octaves and you whisper, "As hell."

"What was that," He fully turns towards you with his face twisted in slight confusion.

"I just said you looked fine. You look great, I promise. You'll easily be the best looking guy there," You vow with an encouraging smile on your face, "Now, change outta that so we can get that coffee you promised me."

"Okay, okay," He holds his hands up in mock surrender as he backs up towards the dressing room.

He steps back into it and pulls the curtain behind him, and it is only then that you let yourself take a deep breath. You sink back into the seat you had occupied before and focus on trying to get your heart rate to settle down, but you knew that wasn't going to happen until you had been dropped off at your apartment. Quinn always had that kind of effect on you, no matter what he was doing or where the two of you were.

After Quinn talks with one of the salespeople, he's got his suit protected in some fancy bag and the two of you are walking out of the shop and to his car. You weren't sure if you were imagining things or not, but it felt like he was walking closer to you on purpose. His hand and shoulder kept brushing against yours, sending jolts of electricity throughout your body with each passing touch, and it was driving you crazy.

Neither of you say anything while Quinn puts his suit in the back and you climb into the passenger seat. When he finally turns the car on, you're too busy focused on queueing up the best songs that you miss the way he was looking at you. His fingers were nervously drumming against the steering wheel, and his mouth kept dropping open like he wanted to say something, he just wasn't sure what.

"Do you think they'll have the new- What is it," You cut yourself off when you notice him, "Is something wrong?"

"Yes. Wait, no," He shakes his head before running his hand through his hair, "Nothing's wrong. It's just- Do you maybe want to go out with me? Like on a date?"

You blink once, twice and your jaw goes slack as his words echo in your skull. Quinn just asked you out. Quinn Hughes asked you out on a date.

Finally.

"Yeah," You softly smile at him, "I'd love to go on a date with you."

[paracosmic-murdock]

give you my wild, give you a child

john arrives at the tower with his son for the weekend thanks to the custody arrangements and is greeted with a last minute mission. as a favor, you helped him with taking care of his toddler while he was gone, which altered bucky's brain chemistry to the point of insanity. because it sure was insanity to look at you and picture you with one of those but that belonged to you and him; it was insanity because he believed he could never give you the peace you deserve. but there you were, of course, to kiss his insecurities goodbye.

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x new avenger!reader

warnings/tags: established relationship, insecure bucky barnes, reader is a speedster like the flash and quicksilver, i made up a name for john's son, his kid is younger here than he actually should be according to mcu timing but idgaf, bucky has baby fever he's fighting to end, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, breakup and reconciliation, reader is good with children, reader wants to be a mother in the future, both reader and bucky want to have a family, but it's more complicated than that, song: peace (taylor swift)

3.8K words

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

It all started when John took a bullet for you. Now, you owed him your life and said you would do him a big favor as payback if he ever needed you.

That's how you ended up being the mediator between him and Olivia, his ex-wife, in the shared custody arrangements. You went with him to pick Nathan, his toddler son, spoke to Olivia on his behalf whenever he had a last minute mission and couldn't take care of the baby on his weekend, or just about anything because their relationship was appalling.

You used to tease him, saying he calculated the whole thing so you could owe him one. In reality, and when he would just bring your favorite dessert to thank you, you just tell him that you would have done that even if you didn't owe him your life. He laughs and thanks you again.

One time, Olivia was adamant that John had to keep Nathan for that weekend since, for the last two times, he had missions and couldn't have him.

And it happened again.

“Mel, I can't go,” John told Valentina's assistant. “I have my son for the weekend.”

“I get it, I'm sorry, but Val-”

You sighed. “I'll go in his place, let him stay.”

Mel shook his head. “Sorry, Val said-”

“I know it's not your fault, but can you please-”

“She said it had to be John because he knows the target already.” she told you.

“Okay,” John nodded. “I guess I'll talk to Olivia.”

“Great,” Mel smiled and continued detailing the mission, clearly in a nicer tone than Valentina's usual.

Once the meeting was over, you stopped John before he left the briefing room.

“John,” you called him. “I'll stay with Nathan, we'll figure it out later.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You must’ve your stuff.”

“Don't worry, it's just filling out some mission reports. I can do that while he naps,” You smiled. “And he's a little angel, you know he never gives problems.”

“God, I don't think I can accept that.”

You shook your head. “It's okay, remember what Olivia said.”

“Yeah, yeah, but-” He groaned tiredly. “Thank you for this.”

“You're welcome.” You curved your lips in a kind smile.

“You called me, doll?”

You looked up and hushed him softly to show him the baby was asleep in your arms. “Yeah, baby, thanks for coming. I need your help.”

“Is that John's kid? Why are you babysitting?” Bucky asked in a lower volume, taking a seat on the couch next to you in the rocking chair.

“Valentina had John go on a mission last minute, but if he called Olivia to ask her if she can have him again, she'll change the custody situation and he might not be able to see Nathan much. Or at all, so I offered to take care of him for the weekend and take him back on Monday… He's been working so hard for this and I wanna help him however I can.”

“You're telling Olivia?”

“Up to John,” You shrugged. “It's like a dad leaving their kid under the care of their auntie Y/N.”

Bucky nodded. “One wouldn't believe that's John's kid. So peaceful.”

You pouted. “Sure he is… my little baby.”

“What do you need me for, then, doll?” he asked, a soft expression on his face at the sight of you, there, acting as if you were in your natural habitat.

“I wanted to ask you for a favor, of course if it's okay with you… Could you take Nate's crib to our room for the weekend?”

“To our room? Why don't you use the camera thing?”

“He's still getting used to this new environment, not to mention that he doesn't come very often. I don't want him to feel alone in John's room without his dad.”

“What if he cries and all that?”

You sighed. “Buck, if it bothers you, I'll sleep in John's room with the baby.”

“No, no, it's fine,” Bucky replied. “I've never been so close to a baby, that's all.”

“Wanna carry him while I look for the diaper bag with his things? He's a little too heavy but I don't want him alone.”

He raised his eyebrow, hesitant to answer. “Something tells me you're too attached.”

You hushed him. “This is my baby for the weekend. All mine. Don't ever tell John I said that.”

“Okay, give it to me,” Bucky opened his arms to carry Nathan.

“It?”

“You know what I mean.”

A soft laugh left your lips and you gave him the kid. Nathan stirred a little, and Bucky made a panicked grin at the thought of the baby waking up and crying in his arms. “Uncle Bucky is gonna take care of you while I get your stuff… Will you take care of Uncle Bucky for me, too, my baby?”

“He's asleep and doesn't understand what you're saying.”

“Shut up,” You rolled your eyes.

You wouldn't lie: seeing Bucky carrying Nathan made your uterus explode. You were probably ovulating because your mind was plagued with ideas you wouldn't entertain otherwise.

Either way, his faux reluctance was almost ridiculous… It was clear that he was carrying the two-year-old with a tenderness rare to watch in a man his size, and it was making you melt.

“What am I seeing?” Ava asked, appearing suddenly from the wall. You flinched.

“We're-” you began talking, trying to say you're babysitting John's child as you said before.

Instead, Yelena spoke from the other side of the room while eating cereal. “They're clearly playing house.”

“We're not,” Bucky declared, irritated, giving you the baby back. “I'll do what you asked.”

You smiled and held Nathan tighter, rushing to John's room where Bucky would be to pick the crib.

“Yeah, John, he's doing great,” you said through the phone, watching The Backyardigans with Nathan on your lap. “Don't worry.”

“This is killing me, I need to get back,”

“I need you to be at peace with this,” you replied after letting out a frustrated sigh. “I had Bucky move Nate's crib to my room so he wouldn't be alone at night. I spend every passing second with him, I take speedy showers while he sleeps, and I'm back to him in like a millisecond. He's never alone, I think he's not used to this place yet and I don't want him-”

“I appreciate so much what you're doing, but you're making him consume you completely and that's not good for you,” John noted. “Also, you're making him codependent.”

You scoffed. “Come on, don't be like that!”

“I'm sorry. I am so grateful for this but I just don't want to stop your life for a favor you're doing,”

“Think of it as an appetizer to motherhood for when I have my own children.”

John chuckled. “Oh, tell that to Bucky.”

“Not telling Bucky is a better one.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Don't even mention it, dad,” You smirked.

You heard him groan in annoyance. You could even feel him rolling his eyes. “Could you send some pics of Nate so I know he's safe and sound?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agreed. “Now go to work, you're making me miss the pizzeria in the ancient Mexico episode.”

“You're not serious,”

“I so am.” You hung up the call and straightened Nate's position.

You looked up and spotted Bucky staring at you from afar.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Bucky frowned and walked to you. “I can't look at you now? You're my girlfriend, may I remind you.”

“Well, you can look every once in a while, not stare like you're a lioness plotting how to kill your prey, me, and feed me to your family.”

“I can't do that because we're sharing our room now, but I will on Monday right after you drop the baby with his mother.”

“After we drop him. You're driving, sir.” You smiled, already excited to see him with the baby, acting like a whole dad in front of you. It's important for you to see how well he plays the role, since you do want to be a mother and you don't really want your baby's father to be someone that's not Bucky.

“I don't owe John my life unlike you, it's better if you leave that to him when he's back. Or at least leave me out of it.”

“Well, I said I'd do it. Nathan has to be with his mom before she goes to work in the morning, and I don't know if John will be here by then,” you replied.

“Aren't you doing a little too much? That's not your child.”

You sighed. “I know he's not my child, but he is my responsibility for the weekend. It won't kill me to take him back home.”

“I know, but I think it's too much.”

“I'm taking care of him as if he were mine, so whatever I do is the bare minimum, Bucky, not too much. This is like… an introduction to motherhood.” You looked at the kid fondly and then back at Bucky. “And I'm lov-”

“Doll, you're not a mom and you won't-”

You rolled your eyes before he finished the sentence, genuinely dreading the end of it. “You know what, Bucky? Just go. I'll call an Uber or whatever. And I'll be taking the crib back to John's room and I'll sleep there if it bothers you so fucking much. If you won't help, at least don't get in my goddamn way.”

“That's not what I meant, doll,”

“But sure it is what it sounded like.”

Before he could say anything more, you turned off the TV and rushed to John's room with the baby. Nathan laughed once he saw himself somewhere else that suddenly.

It made you smile warmly and wonder whether or not it would be a good idea for your future kids to be speedsters like yourself. A small part of you stopped worrying about the supersoldier part, which you hated to see happening.

To clear your mind, you took the pictures of Nathan that John asked for and sent them to him.

You: He's the cutest!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You: I love him sm 🥹

John: He is

John: Thanks for this

You: Don't worry ab that

You: I'll put him to sleep for his afternoon nap :)) Take care

John: Thank you ❤️

“What if we go to sleep now?”

Nathan frowned.

“You know you have no choice. It's nap time.”

Bucky was in the kitchen, watching a food tutorial on his phone that explained step by step how to make apple compote for Nathan as an attempt to make it up to you.

He wasn't meaning to be rude at all, he just wanted to see you with the baby the least possible because he was getting weird ideas. You truly looked the happiest you've been in a while, at ease. The baby got along with you very well, as if you were his mother, and his laughter mixed with yours always lit up the room. He even catches himself smiling fondly at the sight, imagining you with one that belongs to you and him.

But that couldn't be.

He would be lying if he said he didn't want a family with you, but he knows that there must be peace to have a family.

And peace? He doesn't have it in himself to give you peace. In his perspective, you were always the one to give, and him the one to take. And he can't spend the rest of your lives taking so much from you without giving anything back at all.

“Let me know when you're done in the kitchen,” Bucky heard you say as you saw him and then tried to leave, clearly not wanting to share space after what happened.

“I- uh… I'm about to finish,” he replied before you left. “I'm making Nate an apple compote. Wanna try it?”

You frowned, surprised, but approached Bucky.

He smiled softly and offered you a new spoon filled with the food; you accepted it, taking a hesitant taste of the compote.

“It's good,” you curved your lips weakly. “He'll like it, thanks. I can take it from here, though, so you don't have to do more.”

“No, look, I-” Bucky exhaled tiredly, turning the stove off. “I'm sorry. I wasn't meaning to be rude or upset you, I just chose the wrong words.”

“An honest mistake, I guess.”

He nodded slightly. “I think we have to talk about this.”

“Can we leave this conversation for later? I am exhausted and the last thing I need right now is for you to keep choosing the wrong words.”

“Yeah, sorry,” He sighed and covered the pot. “Here's the compote.”

“Thanks.”

As you finished dressing Nathan to take him back to his mom, you couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of not having him for a while. Like, two weeks.

Bucky was right: you got too attached.

John was right: you are now codependent.

And you also got too involved. You even got a potty for him and started training him.

“I'll miss you so much,” You kissed his forehead and carried him in one arm and the diaper bag in the other. “But your dad is gonna bring you back soon and we'll play again, and watch cartoons…”

You noticed the Uber was already outside, so you left John's room.

“Where're you going?” Bucky asked as he saw you pressing the elevator's button.

“I told you I'd take Nate to his mom's today,” you answered, your voice serious. A bit passive-aggressive if anything.

He pursed his lips. “Alright, let's go, I'll take you.”

“There's a car waiting, Bucky,” you explained. “And you already said you wouldn't take us, so why do you care all of the sudden, huh? You don't have to get involved in any of this.”

“I just want to help, come on,”

“No, you don't wanna help, you just want to be on my good side again,” you accused him, seeing the elevator door open. “We'll talk when I get back.”

“Doll-”

“Don't call me that, Bucky. Not now.”

He nodded and took a step back, giving you space.

And knowing he had cosmically fucked up.

You spent the whole day out: ran some errands, had lunch with Mel, visited Pepper and Morgan in the afternoon, and then went back home.

When you returned to the Avengers Tower, everyone was gathered. John and Alexei had arrived from the mission not too long ago.

“Hey,” John stood up to receive you. “There's nothing I can do to thank you enough for this.”

You smiled. “It's okay, John. That's what friends are for.”

“Not at all,”

“Of course, Yelena would've done it.”

“No, I wouldn't have.”

John shrugged. “See? Just tell me what I can do.”

“I'll let you know when I come up with something,” You took a seat between Bob and Ava. Everyone was surprised you were away from Bucky but said nothing. “How was the mission, boys?”

Alexei began recounting everything that happened like a Greek epic, telling every detail and exaggerating much of it. To this day, you all were used to it, even entertained by it.

Bob hushed at you softly to get your attention meanwhile. “Hey.”

“Hey, Bob,”

“Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Yeah, you?”

“Well, I did the dishes today.”

“Attaboy,” You smiled widely.

Bob turned around so he could sit as if you were in front of him. “You're sitting a mile from Bucky and he looks more like Grumpy Bear than ever. What happened?”

“We just have a… pending conversation.”

“A bad one?” he inquired.

“I think so, yeah,”

“Are you breaking up?”

You shrugged.

“Oh,” Bob grinned sadly. “I really hope you talk it out. Let me know how it goes?”

“Yeah, Bobby,” You squeezed his forearm. “Thanks.”

The rest of the conversation went between your efforts to ignore Bucky's stare and to understand Alexei's oral mission report. You could hear, but not actually listen, not when Bucky's piercing eyes were so uncomfortably fixated on you.

You didn't notice when Alexei finished his story, nor when everyone started drinking, much less when they all left and you and Bucky were the only ones staying there.

But he did.

“Hey,”

You looked up silently, then all around, then back at him. “Hey.”

“Is it time to talk?”

“I guess so,”

Bucky nodded and sat beside you now.

“I wanna apologize for what I said,” he began. “I know that choosing the wrong words isn't an excuse, but I guess that's what I meant to say. What… you thought.”

“What I thought?” You frowned. “What did I think, according to you?”

“You thought I didn't care about children.”

“So, you don't care about children?”

He stayed silent.

“You mean to tell me that you don't want children now or in the long term?”

More silence received you, but he nodded.

“And you didn't care to tell me before, why? You've known I wanted children for ages, Bucky. I told you multiple times, even in Wakanda before we were together. You knew this, and you knew you didn't want children all this time and still got in a relationship with me. And you waited until I was so in love with you to come clean and say so.”

“I'm sorry, I-”

You groaned. “You're sorry?! So what? What are we gonna do now? Because I don't know how much we're willing to compromise here.”

“That's the thing, you shouldn't have to compromise or give up on your dream of having a family one day.”

“Are you doing what I think you're doing, Bucky? You're breaking up with me?”

And he was silent again.

“Oh, my God!” you yelled at him and stood up. “What the actual fuck?! I- I've been beside you through every-fucking-thing, Bucky! I looked for you for years with Sam, I protected you and fought for you despite what you did, I went to Wakanda with you, I was beside you when Steve left… I had given up on fighting but came back for you when you needed me, I'm here because of you! And is this how you pay me? By… making me believe we'd be a family one day? By lying to me whenever I mentioned marriage and kids?”

“I didn't know for sure until now.”

You exhaled, visibly upset. Well, upset was the understatement of the century. “Fuck you, Barnes. Truly, fuck you.”

That very same night, you thanked God for your powers more than ever. Not spending more than thirty seconds packing up every single one of your belongings came in handy considering that Bucky was right there.

Once you finished, you went to Bob's room and told him everything that happened. You told him you would leave, but that he could still call you and you would answer. Whenever.

Soon, you were at Mel's place to spend the night, telling her what had happened.

“Okay, but are you sure that this wasn't something that came from an insecurity of his? Like, maybe he's scared to mess things up with you and decided to let you go,” she theorized. “I'm not saying you should forgive him and get back together with him, just to… give him the benefit of the doubt. As far as I know, he really loves you and isn't the type to do something like this.”

“Maybe that's right, but he still did it,” You exhaled heavily. “And now I can't help but feel that he made me waste all this time.”

Mel nodded. “Why don't you get some sleep? Maybe tomorrow morning we can think of all this with a clearer mind.”

“Bucky, you dick.”

He sighed. “Good night to you, too, Mel.”

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of your favorite breakfast, and it surprised you that Mel even knew, considering you haven't been friends for that long. You know about her daddy issues, she knows about your PTSD, but your favorite food or colors are off-limits.

However, instead of seeing her, Bucky was the one waiting for you on the dining table.

You rolled your eyes. “What did you come for, Bucky? To break me again? Let me remind you that I did nothing but love you all these years, and you're-”

“Can you let me speak?” You stayed silent. “I… thought it all through last night. Well, I had thought it through before talking to you yesterday, but I then realized that I took that choice away from you, and I shouldn't have. The truth is that I want everything with you, I honestly can't live with the thought of your future children having someone else's eyes, but I know that a family needs peace, and I don't have any of it to give you. I know this is your dream and I couldn't live with myself knowing that I took that away from you, or that you'll wake up one day and regret us. I'd rather miss you my whole life than make you let go of what you want.”

You frowned. “Bucky, you've given me peace since the moment you let me in when we were in Wakanda. You make me feel safe and loved, and if that isn't peace, I don't know what the hell it is. I just need you to stop pushing me away when it gets hard and fight for us.”

“That's what I'm trying to do,” He sighed and took your hands in his. “I try my best to not be intimidated by you, by your integrity, your beliefs, and everyday I feel like I do it all wrong and I'm just wasting your honor. I… I'd do anything for you, I always give you the best of me, but is it enough if I can't give you peace? Will… my love be enough?”

“Bucky, you've always been more than enough for me,” you muttered. “Your best is all that I need, but I need your best to include staying and communicating when something like this happens. We have been together for a while, and I must know if you're committed to this. To me. To us.”

“I am, and I'm sorry I got scared,” he replied. “I only want you to be happy no matter what.”

“Buck, I could never be happy with anybody that's not you. You are my peace and my happiness, and your love is all that I need.”

He curved his lips slightly and approached you hesitantly, not knowing what your reaction might be but not wanting to let the fear of rejection get the best of him.

But you kissed him, and he knew it was all worth it.

[swightops]

still holding the silence (2) - thunderbolts* (b. reynolds)

summary - you deal with the aftermath of the gala and find an old friend asking for your help. warning(s) - typical thunderbolts warnings (depression, cannon violence, blood, etc.), language a/n - CA 4, thunderbolts, heavy angst as you delve into old avengers stuff, mc is kinda mean at time but hey she's hurting, i promise we'll see our man next chapter LMAO, the plot thickens oooooo

"Sunwraith Salutes New Generation?"

Famously retired Avenger known as Sunwraith made a surprise appearance at the "Meet the Future" gala, and an even more surprising gesture of support. Appearing alongside Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the ex-hero smiled for photos and stood arm-in-arm with the New Avengers leader, prompting speculation that Sunwraith might be quietly endorsing the controversial new team.

Comments:

"Wow, I never thought I'd see Sunwraith at a gala again! This could mean big changes for the New Avengers!" "lol no way Sunwraith actually likes this new team" "The New Avenger literally don't compare to the old ones" "I'm skeptical. Sunwraith was a pure Avenger and she's not a part of this new team?" "I think Sunwraith just wants to support the new heroes. Change is always scary but we need to give them a chance!" "I'm so excited for this new team omgggg"

You groan as you toss the tablet to the side, not wanting to remember anything about last night. Your PR team had already given you an earful about the event earlier today, since your name started trending on social media, and the world wondered whether you truly supported the New Avengers. A buzz distracts your attention from the internet storm as you look down at your phone.

Sam Wilson

[Really?] [Attached: 1 link]

[She set me up] [Bitch]

[You okay?]

[Thinking about it]

Your fingers hover over the keyboard momentarily, deciding if you should send your next text. Fuck it.

[Saw Bucky]

The following minutes drag on as the typing bubbles appear and disappear on the screen.

[Have a mission. Got to go. We'll talk later.]

"Ughhh," you groan, throwing your phone away and dragging your hands down your face. The headline still burns in your head like an unwanted tattoo.

"Sunwraith Salutes New Generation?"

Your head falls back against the couch as you glance around the big, sterile, expensive apartment. It's not home, never quite home. You try to make it feel like home by hanging up pictures of your family, adding little knick-knacks around the place, and adding pops of color to bring life to the apartment, but it doesn't help.

The silence returns, settling over your shoulders like fog.

There never used to be silence, not after the Avengers.

You get up, not because you have anywhere to go, but because sitting still feels like drowning. You wander to your office, where work waits. Stark Relief documents. New Light proposals. A sticky note from Pepper in her neat, decisive handwriting:

"Board meeting resched. Monday. Don't forget to breathe."

You laugh, humorless and low. Breathing feels like the hardest part lately. You sink into your chair and stare at the spreadsheet open on the monitor. Profit margins. Logistics. Some initiative sent over by the GRC.

No one trained you for this. You were trained to throw punches, to induce fear in those whom Hydra told you to, to let the shadows consume all. You weren't trained to run a company. And no matter how many zeroes are in your bank account or how many buildings bear your name (or Tony's), it still doesn't fill the space they left behind.

You push back from the desk, suddenly too restless, too full. You walk to the window and press your hand against the glass. The city blurs beneath you, all movement and meaning, and none of it belonging to you.

You're a statue in a world that keeps moving.

You flex your fingers. That soft golden glow flickers to life—your power, your legacy, but it flickers.

Dims.

And then fades.

Your stomach growls. Glancing at the desk, you know you won't get any work done. Might as well make dinner.

It’s almost muscle memory now—this recipe, this dish. The kitchen smells before you even start chopping. You pull out different ingredients: chicken thighs, onions, paprika (the Hungarian kind Wanda used to swear by), chicken stock, and sour cream. You line them up like puzzle pieces and smile faintly when you catch yourself muttering the steps under your breath.

You chop slower than usual tonight. There's no rush. No alarms. No missions. You sauté the onions in oil until they're golden, then add the chicken and let the kitchen fill with sizzle and scent. The paprika goes in next, painting the pan in warm red, and something in your chest settles.

You aren’t making this for anyone.

You let the dish simmer before setting a plate. Just one. But beside it, without thinking, you place a second and third. You don’t sit right away. You stare at the plates and wonder if you're crazy.

Then again, crazy might be the only thing keeping you human.

You finish the dish with a spoonful of sour cream, stirring gently until the sauce is velvety-soft. You taste it. It's still good, still rich, still theirs.

“Ms. L/N,” a voice says from above you. FRIDAY. “You have a guest.”

You blink. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“It's,” FRIDAY pauses. Although she's AI, a program designed by code, her voice has always been very human and compassionate. "Mr. Barnes is here."

You sigh, dusting imaginary dust from your hands. “Send him up.”

As you stand, you stare at the empty plates, hoping that magically it eases your racing heart. It doesn't.

A soft ding sounds throughout the apartment as the elevator doors open. Footsteps follow—slow, steady, too familiar. Your breath catches in your chest as you turn to look at Bucky. He stands in all black, his coat damp from the drizzle outside. Hair tied back. Eyes unreadable.

“Hey.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. There’s a buzzing in your head.

He shifts, hands still buried deep in his pockets. His eyes shift to the plates on the table. “Were you expecting people?”

You don’t say yes. Just shake your head no. “Why did you come, Bucky?” you ask, folding your arms. “You were perfectly fine with ignoring me before.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s funny,” you snap. 

“I wasn’t ready to talk.”

“Well, I’m not ready either,” you say, stepping back. “So maybe you can go.”

“Wait-” He takes a step forward, and the tension snaps, pulling tight around your chest.

“You don’t get to wait, Bucky,” you say, voice trembling. “You completely ghosted. You let me think that you were done with me. That we don't mean anything to each other anymore."

His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

You scoff bitterly. “No clever line? No excuse? What, no backup from your flashy new team?”

“It's not what you think,” Bucky mutters.

You roll your eyes. "Spare me, Buck."

He sighs, his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lower lip before biting it. “I didn't come here to fight,” Bucky says quietly. “I came because I need your help.”

That makes you laugh, bitter and small. His words sting. It's not about you, it's about what you can do. “Of course you do.”

“I know you met Bob.”

You blink. “What does he have to do with this?”

Bucky steps closer, his hand pulling out a small flash drive from his coat pocket. He places it on the kitchen island before slowly sliding it to you, almost scared that you might run off. "Short story, he can't control his abilities. Powers, memories, it’s all bleeding together. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt someone. And honestly…so am I.”

You close your eyes for a moment. The buzzing intensifies. 

“I don’t know how to help him, and truthfully, there aren't many people I can trust to help him,” he says, and your heart aches. Trust. "He needs someone who understands him in the way the rest of us can't," he pauses. "And...I think you do too...Please, Sunny-"

“Don't,” you say sharply.

He flinches. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” you say again, pointing a finger at him now. “Don’t say it like I’m still her. Like I’m still that version of me. I don’t even know what I’m doing most days, Bucky. I wake up, I read headlines that praise me or, worse, pity me. I go to meetings for a company I don't think I can run. I sit in boardrooms with people who talk about Tony like he was a brand. And then I come home. And I sit. And I wonder if any of it mattered. And then I wonder if I did."

He swallows hard. “You did. You do."

"And then sometimes I wonder...I wonder if we did the right thing...bringing everyone back. That if maybe we didn't, then they would be here. Misreable, but here!" you admit, and it feels good. To finally say the salty thought out loud.

Silence.

Your watery eyes meet with Bucky's, and you then turn away. "Sorry, that was a lot. Um, if you wanna leav-"

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he cuts in. “y/n, believe me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Just...help Bob. Please. If you want me gone after that, I’ll go. I'll make sure none of this "New Avenger" stuff gets near you again."

You don’t say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, you speak, barely audible.

“He’s staying at the Tower?”

“Yeah.”

You nod slowly. “I’ll come tomorrow.”

Bucky exhales through his nose, maybe the closest thing he’s come to relief since he arrived. He moves to leave, and you're letting out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"I know you think you're not who you used to be. But to me, you're still Sunny. You're still you, y/n."

You don’t respond.

The elevator dings and the doors open before they close again, and you’re alone again.

You stand motionless. The air feels different now—thinner, lighter. Bucky took something with him when he left. You're not sure how long you stand there, hands curled into fists at your sides.

You're still Sunny. You're still you, Y/N.

You exhale sharply. A broken sound.

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper to the empty room. Your eyes fall to the flash drive, and your fingers grab hold of it before you can really think. They dig into the sides of it as if it’s the only thing keeping you connected to Bucky. Maybe it is. 

The smell of the paprikash hits you, and you’re reminded of your dinner. Almost robotically, you’re serving yourself, and you sit at your dinner table. Just sit and look at the empty table before you. And then, your fingers dig into the flash drive, and with a flick of your wrist, shadows move from the corners of the room, and your laptop is placed in front of you. 

The blob of shadows straightens out before you, and it just stares at you like it’s trying to get deep into your mind and roll your eyes. Deciding it’s better to ignore “it”, you plug the drive in and immediately files pop up. 

SUBJECT: REYNOLDS, ROBERT. aka “The Sentry”

You scroll. Your eyes flick over O.X.E. logs, therapist reports, and medical scans. O.X.E. It rang a bell in your head. Shit, where did you hear about it?

“Extreme power mismatch. Emotional destabilization suspected. Cognitive dissonance under pressure catalyzes the emergence of what is to be described as “The Void.”

There’s a photo of a lab room. There’s a table in the middle of it, but what draws your attention are the two human-shaped shadows imprinted into the wall. Both with their hands up, almost like they were running from something or someone. Another report catches your eye.

“Patient describes the entity as a shadow of the self. A voice. A second presence. Distinct yet intimately fused. The more power he uses, the more it surfaces.”

You swallow.

Your chest tightens. Not because of what’s on the screen. But because of how familiar it feels. You open a video file.

Bob’s there. He’s in big, oversized scrubs, sitting in a doctor's room on some sort of bed. He’s curled up into him just like that night you two met. “It isn’t always cruel,” Bob says. “Sometimes it sounds like the only one who understands me. Sometimes it sounds like…me.”

A long, thin silence follows.

“He came to you because he sees it in you too.”

You jerk your head up. The voice isn’t real. You know that. But you haven’t heard it in a long time. 

“He sees that brokenness in you. Everyone can.”

“Shut up,��� you whisper. Your palms burn faintly, powers curling at the edge of your control. The lights in the apartment flicker for a moment. Just a heartbeat.

You clench your fists tighter. “Shut. Up.”

But the voice only sighs—fond, tired. “Don’t you miss how good it feels?”

You slam your laptop shut. Panic clings to your skin, cold and slippery. You rise too quickly and pace around the kitchen, hands trembling. There’s nothing to fight, but your muscles are coiled like you're bracing for impact.

You grip the edge of the sink.

Breathe in.

Out.

The shadows on the floor move with you. They always do. You’ve tried to pretend you’re in control of them. But some nights, you’re not sure who’s following who.

When you catch your reflection in the microwave door, your eyes glow faintly golden, not bright, but unmistakable. A quiet reminder of what lives under your skin. What lives deep down in your core. What calls to you when no one’s around. 

You avert your gaze. You’ve spent so long keeping it in and keeping in control, and yet, it’s slipping out so easily right now. How could you possibly help Bob when you can’t even help yourself?

Another tired breath escapes you before you sit back down at the table and open your laptop. You read more files, watch more videos, and skim over medical reports before a more recent report catches your eye. 

Subject: “Nightfall” Location: New York Casualties: Proximately 4000 people affected, minor injuries reported, no deaths reported Symptoms: Rapid psychological collapse, extreme hallucination, physical shadow assimilation Origin: Unknown energy pulse originating from R. Reynolds, later confirmed to be "The Void" entity. Field Notes: Victims reported being trapped inside 'memories,' often their worst or most shameful. Reports of time dilation, possession, and an unidentifiable psychic broadcast frequency mimicking grief cycles.

You stop there.

You remember that day. You and Pepper had watched from your tablet screen in France, arguing about whether you should take off for New York to stop the madness. At the time, you didn’t know what had caused it, over just as soon as it began, only that it reminded you too much of your own power when it slips, when it pulls too hard.

You keep reading. 

Post-Incident Recovery: Public story reframed as a biological weapon scare. Following the successful suppression of the Void, Director de Fontaine initiated Phase 2 of the Avenger Initiative Reformation. Results: "The New Avengers."

Your jaw clenches.

That’s what this was. Not a victory. Not some earned rebranding. Just a cover-up. A PR move. They turned a tragedy into a stage.

You exhale sharply and look back at your screen. Unable to stop, you keep reading before another file catches your eye. It’s encrypted. “FRIDAY, unlock this one.”

“Right away, boss.”

PROJECT: SENTRY / Source Documentation Archive Authorization: LEVEL BLACK Link Chain: O.X.E. // Archive Root: (REDACTED) Initiative

You freeze.

There’s no explanation. No subject name. No reference. Just:

—secondary prototype derived from archived data. Subject parallels stable. Cognitive divergence unstable. Full severance from original subject history approved. PROJECT CONTINUED UNDER CODE: SENTRY.

You sit back slowly, like any movement might disturb what you’ve just read. O.X.E., no Valentia Allerga de Fontaine, gave Bob his powers.

They built The Sentry. Created The Void. 

You stare blankly at your reflection in the dark screen. Your golden eyes catch faintly again, just for a second, before fading. Deep inside you, the pit stirs again, quiet and knowing, feeding off your unease. 

Bob Reynolds had a darkness within him. Something that matched the one deep within you. And tomorrow, you were going to see it up close.

[sweetcalebb]

Computer Science Major Zayne

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚ headcanons ˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

zayne, who codes better than he talks, but god—absolutely meltsss for you in soft, subtle ways.

INSPIRED BY @xyzvoid

tysm for letting me use ur concept!! ur gamer!caleb also gave me this idea for CS!zayne <3

—

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne will make apps for you. he'll sit in his dorm, hoodie rolled up to his sleeves, brows pinched together in annoyance because he can't find what's wrong with his code. he should be doing his assignments, but how he can't forget that offhand comment you made about how messy your notes are. two days later, you get a link from him. it's your own custom-made app that color-codes and sorts them for you.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne will let you study with him while he works on his code. he normally doesn't let anyone see him like this—because honesty? he looks a little wrecked; the complete opposite of him in public, typing like he's trying to punish the computer for his mistakes. and when you tease him, saying he looks like he's fighting with his laptop he lets out a low, "i am." but there's a subtle smile playing on his lips.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne's never been one for affection, but for you, he'll make an exception. like sometimes, when he's in the middle of debugging, or writing some paper on the program he's using, he'll pull you into his lap, rest his chin on your shoulder, and murmur, "don't move. you're warm.”

⋆⁺₊❅。 to everyone else, zayne is an intimidating, composed computer science prodigy. to you? he's just a sweet, awkward, nerdy boy (still scary smart). because when he's alone with you, he's grumbling under his breath, glaring at his computer screen like it's personally offended him because he can't crack an assignment. and when he's done, he'll crawl into your arms. won't say a word, just lay there.

⋆⁺₊❅。 zayne's screen saver is a candid picture of you taking a nap on his shoulder. you hate it, but he loves it. it's his absolute favorite and he refuses to change it. sometimes, it'll distract him. he knows he should be doing work, but instead he'll sit there like a love-sick fool, eyes roving over the picture like he hasn't seen it a hundred times.

⋆⁺₊❅。 he doesn't care how much work he has left to do. he'll always find time to help you with yours. doesn't matter what class is it either. chemistry? he's patiently walking you through the formulas even though he just relearned the material last night. anatomy? he's skimming your textbooks and then letting you practice on him—turning into your own personal life-size diagram.

⋆⁺₊❅。 just like he isn't one for physical affection, he also isn't one for loud, sappy 'i love you's. no, he builds you a game. a whole game. based on some throwaway comment, like, 'i wish i was a bird'. days later, he's built you a short five-minute game where you play as a bird and at the end there's some sweet little note. it's short, but it's there.

⋆⁺₊❅。 he doesn't say anything, but he's positive he works better with you around. even when you're a little too distracting for your own good, how could he not work better when after every section of his code he finishes, he's pulling you in a slow, lazy kiss, then pulling back like nothing and working again?

⋆⁺₊❅。 sometimes, when you're feeling a little playful, you'll sneak up behind him while he works. you'll trail your lips up his neck, across his jaw, and then finish on that spot behind his ear he loves so much. he’ll mutter a rough, “don’t distract me." it has no real bite though, because before you can even apologize, he's turning around and slipping his hands underneath your shirt, pulling it up, then kissing up your stomach. soft, reverent open mouthed kisses.

⋆⁺₊❅。when zayne's finished with an especially grueling assignment, you'll offer to help him.. unwind. he'll say something short and quiet, like, "no, you don't have to." but he doesn't stop you, just watches with lidded eyes as you kneel down between his legs, tug his jeans down with his boxers and take him into your mouth. he breath hitches. "f-fuh—" he bites his lip to stops himself (bc for some reason he doesn't like cussing in front of you). he breathes out, "you really don't—nngh-" but he can't help it anymore. his hand is hovering over your head, hips twitching. "please don't stop."

[astrakim]

The Space Between Us

[Part 1] [Part 2]

> enemies to lovers | slow burn | bed-sharing | fluff, angst, emotional smut

>genre: childhood rivals to lovers,

friends-forced-to-share-a-bed, emotional tension,

slow burn

>word count: 17.9k [combined]

>summary: They started as neighbors. Then came a stupid night - and suddenly, Heeseung and Y/N were enemies. Years of rivalry, endless tension, and a thousand unspoken feelings between them.

When a group trip forces them to share a bed, everything changes. Jealousy flares. Secrets unravel. And the line between hate and desire blurs in ways neither of them expected.

What if the enemy was never really the enemy?

>series warnings: suggestive tension, mutual pining, soft vulnerability, swearing, kissing, a lot of staring, protected sex (wrap it yall), oral (f.rec), fingering, heeseung is a flirt, misunderstanding, Sunoo lowkey OR highkey being a menace matchmaker, thats all ig let me know if I should add anything

>date: [3/6/25]

note: This is my first fic ever guyss, its not that good yet as I'm just starting out but its worth reading.

Reblogs and likes are really appreciated.

Enjoy your read!.

Heeseung was annoyingly pretty.

Not the kind of pretty that made you weak in the knees, but the kind that made you want to punch a wall out of pure spite. He had a face that could’ve been sculpted by artists who hated modesty — sharp jaw, smooth skin, eyes that looked like they always knew more than you did. And he walked like the world owed him something, like confidence was stitched into his spine.

I hated that he was tall. I hated that he smelled good even after gym.

I hated that no matter how much I tried, he always got under my skin.

I hated how his smile always made my heart flip.

And the worst part?

He grew up next door.

---

We weren’t always like this.

There was a time when Heeseung was the kid who’d sneak bugs into my backpack just to make me scream — and I’d chase him down the street with a plastic baseball bat. Summer evenings meant chalk drawings on the sidewalk, dripping ice cream cones, and lazy dares on the swingset.

How we were always joined by hip, going anywhere and everywhere together.

Until...until the day we weren't.

“Why Do You Hate Heeseung So Much?”

People ask me that all the time.

Usually when we’re out — surrounded by too many snacks and too few brain cells — someone always turns to me with a grin and says,

“Come on, Y/N. Be honest. Why do you hate Heeseung so much?”

And I always have a list ready.

“He’s insufferable.”

“He thinks being tall makes him superior.”

“He flirts with waitresses then tips like a grandpa.”

It’s become a bit. A running joke.

But the truth?

The truth is I don’t actually hate Heeseung.

I just never forgave him.

Not really.

Because back when we were fifteen, there was this one night — the kind you don’t really forget.

The kind you carry with you even when you’re trying hard not to.

It was warm out. Sticky, quiet. One of those summer nights where everything feels a little more honest.

We ended up in the treehouse behind my backyard — the one we used to play in when we were kids. It wasn’t planned. Just one of those things where I looked out the window and saw him pacing his driveway, and he looked up like he was waiting for me to.

So I went.

And we talked.

About things we didn’t talk about with anyone else.

His parents. My insecurities. Feeling stuck. Feeling… seen.

For a second — maybe longer — it felt like something changed.

Like maybe we weren’t just neighbors. Or childhood friends. Or that weird undefined space in between.

There was a pause.

A moment.

I swore he was going to kiss me.

He didn’t.

And that was fine, a little disappointing because I always wanted him to be my first kiss… but it was fine.

But the next day?

He ghosted.

No texts. No calls. No “you up?” late-night window knocks like usual. Just… nothing.

Avoided me at school. Like I had made everything up in my head.

So when my friend asked about it, I said it was nothing. Just a “weird night.”

I laughed it off. Pretended I didn’t care but I did.

Pretended it didn't hurt but it did.

I waited. I gave it a day. Then another. Then another.

And eventually, I got tired of waiting.

I kept thinking: Was I wrong? Did I imagine it?

Maybe it hadn’t meant anything to him. Maybe I’d read it all wrong.

So I got angry. At him. At myself. At all of it.

Until one day….

“…Y/N, what do you think?

I blink out of my thoughts, realizing Professor Kim is looking directly at me — marker in hand, pausing mid-diagram.

Crap.

I glance at the board. Cellular respiration. ATP. Glycolysis. Okay, not too bad.

“It produces a net gain of two ATP molecules,” I answer, trying to sound confident.

Professor Kim smiles. “Exactly.”

And then from across the room — like clockwork — a voice I’ve been trying to ignore for the past three months speaks up, slow and smug:

“That’s… technically wrong.”

My head snaps to the right.

Heeseung.

Of course.

I clench my jaw. “No, it’s not.”

He leans back in his seat, arms folded, looking so pleased with himself.

“Pretty sure it’s four ATP, not two. You might want to actually read the textbook instead of skimming the summary.”

The class collectively exhales — that quiet, anticipatory hush that means oh, they’re fighting again.

I don’t even hesitate. “It produces four, but the net gain is two. Because you invest two in the energy investment phase.” I say it slowly, like I’m talking to a toddler. “Try to keep up.”

Someone near us snorts.

Heeseung’s smile twitches — the fake one he does when he’s losing. “Wow, look at you. One correct answer and suddenly you’re Bill Nye.”

“And yet, still doing better than you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

“No, I use the thought of beating you in literally everything.”

“Dream big, Y/N.”

“Oh, I do. And you losing is a recurring theme.”

Professor Kim clears her throat sharply.

“That’s… enough. This is a biology class, not a debate club.”

The room awkwardly shuffles back to silence. But the damage is done. The tension — electric and unmissable — simmers between us.

That was the day we stopped just not talking.

And somehow, we turned into rivals.

Every answer. Every grade. Every seat in the library.

We competed. We snarked. We fought over who got the front seat and who picked the movie.

And it stuck.

It wasn’t just silence anymore.

It was a war.

Now we’re that pair. The two people in the group chat who always have beef.

So when people ask, “Why do you hate Heeseung so much?”

I shrug and give them a new fake reason.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

By high school, we were fluent in mutual loathing.

Group projects? Nightmare.

Game nights? Constant sabotage.

Truth or Dare? Always dare — always dangerous.

Still, somehow, we had the same group of friends.

Which is how we both ended up in a shared cabin during a seven-day mountain trip planned entirely and suspiciously by Sunoo.

Day One:

It’s already golden hour by the time we pull up to the cabin.

The car ride was long, filled with stupid games, backseat arguments, and the occasional off-key group karaoke moment — but stepping out into the pine-scented air makes it all worth it. The place is beautiful: tucked into a clearing with string lights stretched across the porch, wooden stairs leading to a wraparound deck, and big windows reflecting the soft amber sky.

The cabin was charming, in a murder-in-the-woods kind of way.

“This is so cute,” Sunoo says, hopping out with his phone already out to record. “Everyone say ‘cabin core’!”

“Cabin core,” the group repeats in half-hearted unison, dragging their bags toward the porch.

I grab my duffel and start toward the stairs, only to hear the trunk slam behind me — and him right on my heels.

Heeseung brushes past like I’m not there, earphones still in, hoodie hood up despite the warm breeze. I resist the urge to trip him. Barely.

“Wow, look at the view,” Jake says from the porch, gazing out at the lake shimmering through the trees.

“I can’t wait to not move from this place for the entire week,” says Jay, stretching like he just completed a marathon.

The inside of the cabin is even prettier. Wood paneling, cozy furniture, a fireplace that Jake immediately tries to light (and is immediately banned from touching again), and the smell of cinnamon-scented something already in the air thanks to Sunoo’s overprepared weekend grocery bag.

Heeseung and I don’t say a word to each other.

We never really do anymore — not unless it’s sarcastic, competitive, or accidentally laced with heat we both pretend isn’t there.

It’s been like that for years.

Still, when I catch him looking at the bookshelf in the corner — the same exact way he used to look at my bookshelf when we were ten — I look away before I feel something stupid.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

The fire crackles.

Sunoo’s managed to light a proper bonfire outside, and we’ve all dragged blankets and folding chairs around it like a cliché summer movie. Someone’s speaker plays soft lo-fi beats, and the marshmallows are already melting unevenly on sticks over the flame.

It’s peaceful. Easy.

Well, mostly.

Heeseung’s sitting two spots away from me — too close to ignore, too far to fight with. He’s wearing that gray zip-up I hate because it makes his stupid collarbones more noticeable. The firelight dances across his face, and he’s chewing on a marshmallow like he owns the place.

I pretend to scroll through my phone. But I hear it — his laugh, low and lazy — when Jake says something dumb. The kind of laugh that used to be directed at me.

Now it just pisses me off.

“Alright!” Sunoo suddenly claps his hands together distracting me from my thoughts. He was oddly too excited for someone assigning sleeping arrangements.I know that look on Sunoo’s face. That scheming glint behind his sparkly eyes “So, for the rooms…”

“I already claimed the bed near the big window,” says Jay.

“Sunghoon and I are bunking,” Jake adds, poking his marshmallow. “I sleepwalk. He’s scared of ghosts. It balances out.”

“Then…” Sunoo smirks like this is the highlight of his night. “Room two… Heeseung and Y/N.”

And just like that—

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

We speak at the exact same time.

Heeseung throws a hand out toward Sunoo, like he can reverse time. “I’m not rooming with her.”

“Yeah, same,” I say, arms crossed. “Put me with literally anyone else. Anyone who doesn’t roll their eyes every time I breathe.”

Heeseung scoffs. “You’re one to talk. You hum like a microwave at 2AM.”

Room with him for an entire week??

God~ I won't survive.

Sunghoon, lounging on a log nearby, sips his hot chocolate and shrugs. “Too bad. All the other rooms are full. Unless you want to sleep outside with the bugs.”

I narrow my eyes. “What about the couch?”

“The couch is LAYLA’s bed,” Jake says sweetly, referring to their golden retriever who’s currently curled up like royalty on a throw blanket inside. “Sorry.”

Heeseung turns to me with a blank look. “This is your fault.”

I blink. “My fault?”

“You pissed off the universe somehow. And now I have to suffer.”

“Oh my god,” I mutter, grabbing my bag and stomping toward the house.

“Don’t snore,” he calls behind me.

“Don’t exist,” I shout back.

≻─── ⋆✩⋆ ───≺

The room is nice. Cozy. Wooden cabin aesthetic, warm lighting, one queen-sized bed in the center.

We both stop at the door and stare at it.

“Nope,” I say first. “You’re taking the floor.”

Heeseung tosses his bag onto the dresser and raises a brow. “Excuse me? You’re the one who talks in your sleep. I’m not risking my life.”

“I do not talk in my sleep.”

“Sunghoon has videos.”

I glare at him. “Well then good. The floor will hide you from the sound of my ‘threatening’ sleep murmurs.”

He drops his bag to the floor with an unnecessarily dramatic thud.

“Fine. I’ll take the bed.”

“No, I’m taking the bed.”

He turns. “You just said I should take the floor.”

“Yeah, but I remembered you’re insufferable, and I’ve suffered enough.”

He walks over to the bed and sits on the edge slowly, locking eyes with me like it’s a silent dare. “Call dibs.”

I scoff. “Seriously?”

“Dibs.”

I fold my arms. “I will smother you with that pillow.”

“I bet you dream about doing that every night.”

The stare-off lasts too long. His knees are still touching the edge of the bed. I’m still gripping my hoodie like it’s a weapon. The silence stretches thin — until we both huff at the same time and speak in unison:

“We’re not sharing.”

Another beat passes.

“Fine!”

“You’re not touching me,” I say flatly.

“Like I’d want to.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

We both exhale.

Then, reluctantly — like it physically pains us — we mutter, almost at the same time:

“We’ll build a pillow wall.”

The cabin is silent except for the soft whisper of wind outside.

I’m barely asleep, the pillow wall between Heeseung and me standing like a fragile fortress.

Then—thud.

The pillows tumble.

I freeze, heart racing.

A soft curse escapes from the other side of the bed.

Heeseung’s voice, low and barely a whisper, breaks the quiet.

“Dammit.”

I swallow, eyes adjusting to the dim moonlight filtering through the window.

He shifts closer than expected.

I hold my breath.

“I’m not moving,” he says, voice rough but quiet. “You can move.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I inch closer too — just enough so our shoulders brush.

It’s accidental. It’s terrifying. It’s... comforting.

The warmth of his skin seeps through the thin blanket.

For the first time in years, the space between us feels less like a battlefield and more like home.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Day 2:

Sunlight seeps through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the cabin. The group stirs awake, groaning and stretching, dragging themselves toward the kitchen for breakfast. I’m still half-asleep, but the looming day ahead is impossible to ignore.

Sunoo’s voice cuts through the sleepy haze. “Alright, everyone! Zipline park today! Get ready to fly!”

Heeseung shoots me a look as if daring me to back out. I glare right back. “Chicken,” I say before anyone else can.

His smirk is all the answer I need. “You’re going down.”

The car ride is loud with music and chatter, but between Heeseung and me? Nothing but cold shoulders and barely concealed glares. I catch him stealing quick looks at me, and I pretend not to notice. The air between us is taut, like a wire stretched to snapping.

Arriving at the zipline park, the thrill buzzes through the group. Harnesses click on, helmets are tightened, and the guide’s instructions fill the air. I stand beside Heeseung on the platform, my heart pounding.

“Ready?” he asks, voice low, almost a challenge.

“Yeah. You?”

He jumps first, smooth and confident, and I grit my teeth before leaping after him. The wind roars past, and I land clumsily, trying not to look like a mess.

“Not terrible,” Heeseung says, barely hiding the teasing edge in his voice.

“Thanks for the compliment” I snap, brushing past him.

–

Later, in line for the next zipline, Jake and Sunghoon joke nearby, and I laugh at one of Jake’s dumb jokes. I don’t notice Heeseung’s gaze tightening on me.

“What’s so funny?” he says, voice casual but sharp.

“Jake told a joke. It’s funny.”

He snorts, but there’s something almost possessive in the way he looks at me — maybe jealousy? — before he masks it with a shrug. I roll my eyes, but it stings more than I want to admit.

---

The hike back is tense. Heeseung falls in step beside me, but there’s an uncomfortable silence between us.

“You’re annoying,” I mutter, bumping his shoulder.

He scoffs. “Right back at you.”

We bicker over who’s walking too slow, who’s taking the wrong path, and who’s responsible for ruining the snacks. The others laugh and tease us relentlessly.

Jay winks and calls out, “You two should just kiss already and save us the drama!”

The group bursts out laughing, and my face heats up instantly. Heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks like he’s trying not to laugh — or maybe not trying hard enough.

“Shut up, Jay,” I say, but my voice is shaky.

Heeseung smirks, shaking his head. “Yeah, shut up.”

The teasing continues, and every time someone drops a “Maybe you’re secretly in love” comment, we both look away, cheeks burning, pretending not to hear.

By the time we reach the cabin, the tension hasn’t eased, but something under the surface has shifted — a quiet, uneasy awareness neither of us wants to admit out loud.

≻─── ⋆✩⋆ ───≺

The sun dips low as the group settles outside by a crackling bonfire. The air smells of smoke and pine, the sky painted with streaks of orange and purple. Everyone’s chatting, roasting marshmallows (which Sunoo managed to convince everyone should be a night thing of this trip), and joking around—but between Heeseung and me, the silence is almost deafening.

Sunoo nudges Jake, nodding toward us. “Hey, you two look like you’re about to start a fight or make out. What’s it gonna be?”

Jake laughs, “Honestly, just kiss already. We’re tired of this back-and-forth.”

I glare at both of them, cheeks heating up, while Heeseung shoots a warning glance my way.

“Shut up, you idiots,” Heeseung mutters, but the slight smile tugging at his lips betrays his embarrassment.

Later, as the group heads inside, the reality hits: We are still sharing that bed.

Sighing, I get ready to sleep.

The cabin is quiet except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace. The pillow wall between us still stands—though now a little worse for wear, more lopsided than before. We’re both lying on our sides, backs turned, eyes fixed on opposite corners of the room.

For the first time since we started sharing this bed, Heeseung’s foot nudges mine—a brief, accidental touch.

I don’t pull away.

Minutes stretch on.

His voice, low and hesitant, breaks the silence.

“Your jacket… it’s cold.”

Without looking, I shrug it off and toss it toward him.

He doesn’t move it back, just lets it lie there—on his side of the pillow wall.

Later, as I reach for my water bottle, my hand brushes against his. We freeze.

Neither of us says anything, but the awkwardness is different this time—less like a challenge, more like a question.

The pillow wall shifts again, wobbling precariously, and I laugh softly.

“Guess this thing isn’t very strong.”

Heeseung snorts, the sound almost like a smile.

“Yeah, neither are we.”

My heart skipped a beat. What does he mean by this? Did I hear it right?

We don’t say more, but the tension feels... lighter. The fights still come, but somehow, sharing this small space makes the distance between us just a little less unbearable.

As sleep pulls us in, the quiet between us feels less like a wall and more like a fragile bridge.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Day 3:

By morning, something is different. Not drastically, not in a way anyone could really name — but it’s there.

Heeseung doesn’t rush to the bathroom before me like it’s a competition. He even holds the door open. And when I come out, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tying his shoes with a calm I don’t quite recognize.

“You snore,” he says flatly.

I scoff. “I do not.”

“You do. Tiny snores. Like a cartoon chipmunk.”

My pillow hits his back. He throws it right back at me, and for a second, we’re laughing — real, genuine laughter. It's strange. Light. I almost forget I’m supposed to hate him.

---

The group decides on the amusement park today. I should’ve known it’d be chaos — Sunoo bouncing with excitement, Jake challenging everyone to ride the tallest coaster, and the teasing? Nonstop.

“Oh, you two again,” Jay drawls as we climb out of the car. “Still alive after sharing a bed?”

“Barely,” I mutter.

“She kicked me in her sleep,” Heeseung says with mock betrayal.

“You deserved it.”

But it’s... gentler now. Even our bickering feels like a game we’re both playing, testing the boundaries of how far we’ve come since that first bitter night.

---

At the entrance, we split into smaller groups. I end up next to Heeseung in line for the haunted house. Typical.

He smirks. “Scared?”

“Of some fake zombies and fog machines? Please.”

“Should I hold your hand?”

His voice is casual, too casual — like he’s joking, but the heat crawling up my neck says otherwise.

“I’d rather hold a chainsaw,” I shoot back.

But he doesn’t stop smiling. Not the usual cocky kind, either. It’s softer. Like he’s not laughing at me — just enjoying watching me squirm.

Inside the haunted house, something grabs my ankle — one of those dumb animatronics. I shriek.

Heeseung’s arm wraps around my shoulder instinctively. It’s solid, warm, a little too comforting. I stiffen. So does he.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, pulling away like I burned him.

“No... it’s fine,” I say, almost whispering. I think we’re both too aware of how easy it felt. How natural.

---

By afternoon, we’re drifting in a carousel of games, rides, and too much cotton candy. I notice the way Heeseung lingers when I walk ahead, subtly slowing to match my pace. When I can’t finish my soda, he grabs it and without hesitation drink it from the every straw I drank from.

Is it a indirect kiss?

I slap myself out of that thought

Control y/n he’s your enemy. But he’s so handsome.

“Y/n…” Heeseung’s voice pulls me back to reality

“What?” I snap unintentionally

“You were staring” he teases

Before I could say anything my heart skips a beat again.

When he wordlessly pulls a strand away from my eyes when my hair gets tangled in the wind.

None of it feels forced.

But the moment that really hits me?

It’s a small thing. A game booth. One of those dumb ring toss games. I try three times — and miss every single one.

Jake jeers. “Y/N, do you have depth perception issues?”

“Watch and learn,” Heeseung says as he steps up.

He nails it on his second try.

The prize? A silly plush fox.

He turns and hands it to me without a word. Doesn’t even look at me.

I take it, trying not to blush. “I didn’t ask for this.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t say you did.”

But I don’t let go of it all day.

—

Later, the group settles in a food court, swapping stories and photos. Sunghoon and Sunoo scroll through pictures on Jake’s phone — most of them candid. I see one of Heeseung and me standing near the carousel. We're not touching. Not even close. But we’re looking at each other in a way I don’t remember doing.

“God,” Sunoo says with a dramatic sigh. “You guys are ridiculous. Just kiss already.”

“Not this again,” I groan.

Heeseung leans back in his seat, all casual confidence. “Maybe she should just ask.”

I blink. “Ask what?”

He shrugs. “Whatever’s been sitting on the tip of her tongue since that cabin night.”

My heart stutters. I hate how smug he sounds. I hate even more that he might not be wrong.

Jake raises a brow. “Wait, is this... flirting? Is Heeseung Lee actually being obvious for once?”

I nearly choke on my drink.

“I am not—he is not—ugh,” I stammer.

Heeseung just grins, eyes meeting mine across the table. There’s something in his expression — not teasing, not taunting. Just... open.

It shuts me up faster than anything else.

—

We leave the park in the golden hour, when everything glows a little too soft and a little too slow. I trail behind the group, lagging with Heeseung without meaning to.

“I forgot how fun this could be,” I say after a long pause.

He doesn’t answer right away, then quietly: “Yeah. Same.”

I glance up at him. The light hits his profile, and for a second, I see the boy I used to be best friends with. The one who used to sneak me his last grape candy because I liked it more. The one who used to race me home from school.

“Do you ever think maybe we...” I hesitate. “Misunderstood each other?”

His hand brushes mine. Just once. Barely.

“Sometimes,” he says. “But you were still insufferable.”

I scoff. “And you were still a smug little—”

“You liked it,” he cuts in, grinning.

Maybe I did.

Maybe I still do.

---

Back at the cabin that night, the pillow wall is still there. But smaller. Just two cushions now.

I lie in bed facing him, our shoulders almost touching.

“Heeseung?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For today.”

He doesn't speak. Just shifts a little closer. I feel the edge of the bed dip beneath him.

Then his voice, soft and almost sleepy:

“I’d win you another one. The fox.”

I blink.

Maybe we’re not enemies anymore.

Maybe we never really were.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

[Part 2]

Comment to get added to the tag list🦋

taglist:

@chadiyuu @kittympirty @elairah @m3wkledreamy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

As I wind down the pines 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, grief, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Left alone after the death of your grandparents, you must survive the remote backwoods.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

The sun peeks through the fluttering leaves, shadows rippling overhead. You shiver against the large oak knees bent, arms around your legs, woozy with the ache of your stomach. Those acorns only made you feel sick.

You need more than nuts and half-grown mushrooms. The trap you set didn't get you anything but a toad and you're second-guessing not boiling it up in a stew. You rub your eyes and let your head fall into your hands. The forest floor shifts. You can't stay out here much longer.

It takes a while to find your strength. You press your palms to the rough bark and slowly scale up to your feet. You sway and drag your feet through the twigs and soil. You stumble into a white birch.

You trail your fingers up and peel a strip off. You yank it and tumble into the dirt. Your fingers are raw from the effort. You can boil the bark and make a stew. Your grandmother would gather the same bark but used it more as seasoning or to bulk out a heartier mix.

You work at stripping away more bark. It won't be much but it's something. You tuck it into the loose pocket of your grandfather's jacket. He has no use of it anymore. You shouldn't need it out in the sun but you can't stop shivering.

You plod down the slant of the forest floor and stop. This is the wrong way. You blink and turn. You've never been lost in these woods before. You grew up here, you know it like you know your reflection, but you're lost. You close your eyes as you try to chase away the pulsing behind them.

Another deep breath. You think you know that elm. Right around to the east is the shell of Chester's mill. Your grandfather told you about the old man that once owned it. He called him a curmudgeon with too much to say.

There's the old fence post but it's no longer crooked or lonely. There are new slats hammered in next to it, secured with cross bars. You slip and dig your heels in. The old mill is not what you remember. The hanging door is back in place and the gate has been replaced with a stronger one. The shed shows signs of repairs in its mismatched boards and the mill house is surrounded in scaffolding.

The house looks best of all. The cracked windows are replaced and there's a lone chair on the porch, reinforced so it no longer dips. Someone's moved in but no one ever comes all the way up here. They only leave, in a coffin or otherwise. 

Change. Things aren't like they were. They won't be. They can't. 

There's a scent on the air that draws you. One you should have filling your nose in the mornings and simmering from the oven at night. The fresh, delectable waft of a tomato vine.

There isn't thought in your head as you advance across the long strands of glass. There is only the clenching in your stomach and the slickness on your tongue. You see no life as you approach. You stop at the gate and wait. 

The windows shine in sunlight but curtains within keep the haze without. You search through the fog of hunger for a threat. There's only a squirrel skittering along the top of the fence, likely on a mission for its own harvest.

You slip your hands between the high slats and feel around. You flip the inner latch and the hinges give. You ease the door inward and shuffle through. You leave it open without catch.

You sniff the air and follow your nose. The lush plateau of soil and greenery delight your vision and your starving stomach. You want to fall upon it and devour every leaf and seed.

Sense flickers and guilt boils in your guts. The work that went into all this and you look to plunder. That same work that did not bear much from your own dirt.

It doesn't matter. You can't hold yourself back. You need more than dry bark and boiled water. You will take only a little. They won't notice with all they have. Two tomatoes, a bright orange pepper, and a single potato.

You use the large pockets of the oversized jacket to store it all and retreat. You stop at the gate, waiting to be caught out, waiting for the holler or worse, the gun shot. Nothing. Just the sunlight and the scent of the garden.

You shut the gate and head for the trees. It's a far way home but the promise of a flavourful stew keep your feet moving. And after...

You'll have to figure that out.

🌳

The old house stands between two broad oaks, the roots extending into the foundation. The once white stained wood is chipped and splintered. Your grandmother's old basket planters are dried out and barren. Your grandfather's bench still stands but without anyone to sit on it.

You climb the steps, the rain spout creaking, the windows groaning. You try not to see the empty garden. The wilting leaves and the churned soil. First the rains flooded out the soil, then the sun dried it to dust, and the little that sprouted fed the family of rabbits who cared little for the bristles of your broom.

Calamity. Tragedy. You planted too early. You had that feeling, your grandfather's voice in your head, but you did not trust it. After the winter blew over the shed and smashed the years of preserves, you were too eager to have something. Anything.

Desperation is the eight deadly sin. Your grandparents always said. Patience, though, is the best of all the virtues.

The door clatters behind you. You get your pot and bring it to the stove. It's the old sort from more than a century ago. You open the little door and add a small log to the ash and remnants of the last burn.

Your hands shake as you light the fire. The flames do not come easy and your fingers are sore with the effort. You shut the door and leave the stove to warm as you unpack your wares...

Stolen goods. You take out a knife chop up half the pepper and one tomato, then half the potato. The rest You'll store in the cellar where the shelves have rotted away. They will keep at least a few days.

You put water onto boil. You add the veggies and use the mortar and pestle to crush up some of the birch. You season it and put a lid on.

As it steams around the brim, you sit on the drooping sofa and lean back into the cushions. You're so tired you're weak yet all you seem to do is sleep and look for food. You're in no short supply of the former.

🌳

The stew holds you over for a week. Maybe longer. The days are hard to track in the smear of anxiety and lingering hunger. You only eat a little, never gorging, never satisfied. 

Nuts. Half the shells you find have been emptied by squirrels and chipmunks. You choke down a handful of earthworms only to spew it up just as painfully. A dead bird tempts you but the diseased stench keeps you from that mistake. 

You chew on the birch and some leaves of mint. You stop at the river and put your feet in. It only makes you shiver more. It's summer. You shouldn't be shivering. Oh well. You just need to eat. That's all you can think about.

You trod on, stopping to gather what you can. If you can't get more, even just squirrel meat, you won't have the energy to walk so long. Once that happens...

Your grandparents would be disappointed. They taught you better. You did fine last year, the first without both of them, but this year is not last year.

As searing as the hunger is the loneliness. You miss them both terribly. They were your people. The only ones that ever looked after you. They taught you well because they wanted to take care of you always and you squandered it.

You crash down your rear in the dirt. You sit in the shade of the pines and stare at the mill house. You shouldn't. You really shouldn't. Once was more than too much.

Your head spins and you try to steady your vision as you grip the sides of your skull. Are you going insane? It sure feels like it.

You stand before you know what you're doing. The trek through the treeline and across the clearing isn't very far at all. It can't be. You're right there at the gate.

You feel along the slat like before, reaching, reaching, reaching. You flick the lock and swing inside. No one's there but you forgot to even check.

You walk cautiously over the grass to the plot of vegetables, even riper than the last time you came. The tomatoes are so big some have fallen off the vine. Carrots!

Not yours! Remember. What are you doing here?

The juice of the tomato floods your mouth as the answer drifts away. You don't care. You're starving. On your knees in the dirt, gnawing like a ravenous rodent.

You devour the tomato and reach for another. A knife flies into the red skin and splits the fruit in half, seeds and guts exploding onto you. You recoil and cry out. 

You wipe your face and look at the man at the end of the plot. His expression is as friendly as the knife that nearly sliced you. You blink and your lip trembles. You're pathetic. You're no better than the gluttonous squirrels.

"I'm... sorry. I... I... I..." you choke.

He comes forward. You stare as you take in all of him. Tall, broad, startlingly so from your vantage on the ground. 

His blue eyes bore into you as the muscles of his right exposed arm bulge. His other shoulder is blunted and his shirt pinned over it. His dark hair is past his shoulders, drawn back in by a tie as a few strands slip free. His beard is dense across his gritting jaw.

You wilt and accept your fate. It's quicker this way. He stops in front of you and bends to retrieve the knife. You watch him grip it and wait for him to aim the tip at you. He wipes it on his pant leg and slides it into his belt. 

He stands straight, towering over you as his hand goes to his hip. 

"That's two today." He says. "Plus two before, a potato, and a pepper."

You bat your lashes at him and sway. You gulp. You shake your head and show your hands.

"I'm hungry..." you croak. "I'm so hungry."

"You're a thief," he snarls. "You're gonna pay me back."

"I don't... I got nothing, mister. I'm sorry. Please," you shrink down and cover your face.

"You got two hands and a brain." He growls. "So get up and get to work."

You look up above your fingertips. The sun limns the man's silhouette like an otherwordly wraith. You snivel and nod. You have no other choice, not unless you want to see his knife again.

You plant your feet and slowly straighten your legs. You rock as he turns on his heel and marches off. You stare after him confused. Do you follow?

You stay as you are and peek down at the mangled tomato. You're hungry enough to pick it out of the dirt. You're kept from that as the man reappears with a round apple basket in hand.

You stagger back as he approaches. He shoves it at you and grows. "Fill that up. Don't eat them."

"Um..." you hug the basket as you gape at him.

"That'll even us out." He taps the top of the basket and you nearly topple.

"Yes, mister." You agree to keep him at bay. To hope he doesn't hurt you.

You back away and turn to the tomato vines. You bend first to gather the fruits off the ground. Your head feels heavy as you plunk down the basket. Your stomach mulches the quickly absconded tomato and adds to the sudden wave.

Your head pulses and silver stars speckle in your vision. You shake your head and set your feet. Dizziness swirls in your head and you lock your knees to stay up. Before you know it, the world is black and the world is only a memory.

[hellfirebarnes]

Slow-Burns - Part 2

PART 1 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5

I split this up in several, shorter parts because I know the feeling when you want to read a fic but don't have the time or energy to get through a 10k+ words one. Also if you hate my writing you can just read part 1 and then leave it. Win-win I guess?

Anyway, this is set after Thunderbolts so if you haven't seen it - spoilers I guess? It absolutely does not follow canon, but yeah better to be safe than sorry.

Summary: Bucky has fallen. Hopelessly. And the only thing more hopeless is his team trying to help him get to the end of this slow-burn.

Bucky x fem!SHIELD!reader

1.7K words

Fluff, ''normal'' violence and descriptions of injuries. For sure out of character stuff, but I am who I am. Your appearence is barely desribed what I can remember, I think your hair and a couple types what clothes you're wearing?

You're referred to as ''Agent'' and ''Sunshine'' in a desperate attempt from me to not use Y/N.

Let me know if there's anything else I should warn about.

Otherwise, enjoy :)

Bucky didn’t notice the quiet at first. Not right away. It started small - like the absence of a scent he couldn’t name until it was gone. The Tower hadn’t changed, exactly, but it felt different. Like it had lost its rhythm.

No laughter echoing from the kitchen at 7 a.m. No Bob poking his head into rooms asking, “Have you seen Sunshine?” like a lovesick Labrador.

No high-speed bickering between you and John that always ended in someone getting hit with a throw pillow. No weird, glittery mugs mysteriously appearing in the sink. No occasional brush of your hand on his shoulder when you passed by; always casual, always enough to leave him dizzy. No you.

You’d been reassigned - temporary intel work, some cross-team stuff with Agents of Atlas, maybe S.W.O.R.D. He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want to seem obvious.

It had been eleven days. And he hated how he knew that.

He was sitting alone in the gym, the punching bag swaying slightly after a missed swing, when John wandered in eating a granola bar like he was doing it competitively.

“You hit that bag any more and it’s gonna call HR.”

Bucky said nothing.

John eyed him. “Let me guess. You’re in a mood because someone isn’t here to mock your brooding.”

Bucky kept his gaze forward.

“Or maybe,” John continued, “you’ve gotten so used to her being around that now the Tower feels like a crypt with bad lighting and even worse protein shakes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” John took a bite. “You should’ve said something before she left.”

“Said what?”

“That you’re in love with her, dumbass.”

Bucky turned, sharp. “I’m not—”

“Oh, right. You just stare at her like she invented air. Totally normal.”

Before Bucky could respond, Alexei burst into the gym wearing compression pants and a tank top that read ‘PAIN IS JUST FRIENDSHIP’ in Comic Sans.

“She is gone too long,” Alexei declared. “The team has lost its most beautiful asset. I am surrounded by men who don’t moisturize and women who threaten me.”

“You deserve it,” Yelena said from the doorway, holding a smoothie. “And she will be back. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Alexei echoed mournfully. “It is too long. I miss her glitter mugs.”

Bucky said nothing. But his silence said plenty.

Three days later, Bucky found himself staring at one of your coffee mugs in the cabinet. White ceramic. A chipped handle. The words ‘DANCING QUEEN’ in bold letters.

You’d left it behind by accident. Or maybe on purpose. He turned it over in his hands. Stared at it longer than necessary. He missed you.

Not just in a general, I-like-having-you-around way. He missed your voice. Your presence. The way the team was louder when you were here; and yet somehow, he felt quieter when you were near. Like the chaos around you never touched the core of who you were.

And maybe that’s what he liked most. That you weren’t trying to fix him. You just saw him and didn’t flinch. He missed being seen.

By day 16 he was walking past the comms room when he heard it.

“—just got in. Yeah, I’m unpacking now. No, Alexei, I do not want to go on a double date with your cousin. Because he’s married. Yes, still.”

Bucky froze. The voice sent a jolt through his chest. He turned slowly toward the room.

You sat at the desk, headset on, typing into a report. Hair pulled up, hoodie half-off one shoulder. Like you’d never left.

“I’m not high-maintenance,” you were saying into the headset. “I just have boundaries. You should try it sometime, John. No, that’s not a dare—hey, don’t—dammit, I heard you grab your car keys—JOHN—”

You looked up then. Saw him standing there. And you smiled. Like he wasn’t just a teammate. Like maybe you missed him too.

“Hey, Buck.”

He swallowed.

“Hey.”

There were a thousand things he wanted to say.

I missed you.

The Tower sucked without you.

I hate that I only feel right when you’re around.

But he just stepped forward, nodding toward the desk. “You back?”

You shrugged. “They needed help with some data extraction. Valentina said I was too valuable to waste on a desk job. Also, Bob threatened to cry if I didn’t come back.”

Bucky cracked the tiniest smile. “I believe that.”

“I’m glad to be back,” you said, more softly now. “I missed you guys.”

He looked at you. And he almost said it.

I missed you too.

But instead, he just nodded again, awkward and quiet and entirely overwhelmed. “Welcome back,” he said, voice rough.

You smiled. Then stood and closed the distance between you with a few casual steps. And before he could brace for it, you hugged him. Not a quick team-hug. Not a side-pat. A full, wraparound, warm-press-of-your-cheek-to-his-shoulder hug.

His brain short-circuited.

You pulled back after a moment, but didn’t step far. “You okay?”

He looked at you, caught in your gravity.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I am.”

The briefing had barely ended before Bucky’s heart pulled a somersault in his chest.

“Agent, you’re riding with Barnes,” Val said, snapping the folder shut. “He needs someone to interface with the target’s comms network and your track record with extraction’s clean. You’re his second.”

You looked up from your notes and nodded, calm as ever. “Got it.”

Bucky, meanwhile, forgot how to breathe.

The Mission was in Istanbul, the objective was to infiltrate a secure facility, extract one scientist and one suitcase, avoid setting off alarms, and get out clean. Classic Thunderbolts assignment, but without the usual chaos.

You worked like you’d done it a hundred times. You beside Bucky in the shadows, your voice clear and low in his ear.

“Firewall’s looping. You’re clear.”

Bucky moved silently through the corridor, taking out guards with silent precision. You trailed behind, disabling cameras with almost casual ease.

“You move like you’ve done this before,” you murmured as you covered his six.

“I have.”

“…Show off.”

He smirked, just barely, but you saw it, and he caught the glint of approval in your eyes.

The suitcase was secured. The scientist retrieved. Extraction clean.

No explosions. No alarms. No Alexei flying through a wall. Just the two of you, moving as if you were calibrated to each other’s pace.

When the quinjet door shut behind you, and you dropped into the seat across from him with a victorious sigh, Bucky finally exhaled.

“You did good,” he said quietly.

You looked at him, surprised - not at the words, but at the fact he’d said them. You smiled. “So did you.”

His chest warmed in that familiar, traitorous way.

That Night in the Thunderbolts Tower post-mission drinks were happening. Team tradition according to Yelena.

Alexei kicked off the night by pouring vodka into what looked like a flower vase. Bob wore a party hat. John brought out a Bluetooth speaker and started playing aggressively patriotic rock songs. Yelena threatened to destroy it twice. Possibly three times.

You showed up in jeans and a black tee that showed off your form, which made Bucky forget his own name for at least six seconds.

And then he did something no one expected.

He walked into the room. With a beer. Voluntarily.

Conversations stopped like someone had hit a mute button.

“Holy crap,” John said, eyes wide. “He emerged from his Brood Cave.”

“I thought he only came out for missions and dark vengeance,” Ava deadpanned.

Bucky rolled his eyes and settled into the corner of the couch, ignoring the way every pair of eyes kept sneaking glances like he was a ghost made of sarcasm. But one pair of eyes - your eyes - lit up when you saw him. And that made everything feel… less terrible.

You were mid-conversation with Yelena and Bob when John inevitably slunk over and started poking at you like a bored older brother. “Be honest. I carried this mission. You all just followed my lead.”

“You got stuck in a hallway mirror because you thought it was another room.”

“It was an optical illusion.”

“It was a hallway.”

Bob burst out laughing. “I liked the part where you walked into a glass door. Twice.”

“You’re all traitors,” John muttered into his drink.

Bucky watched it all - the easy way you leaned against Yelena’s shoulder, the way Bob circled you like a moon around a star, and the way you just fit, seamlessly, into the madness.

He wanted to talk to you. To walk over, say something - anything. But every time he tried, it felt like a wall went up.

Bob was telling you a story now. Something about a rogue kitten he rescued on a rooftop. “—and then it bit me, right here,” Bob said, pointing to a spot on his hand. “But I respected its boundaries.”

You laughed, bright and genuine.

“I named it Waffles,” Bob added, eyes shining. “It lives on the roof now. We’re friends.”

Bucky gripped his beer tighter. He had nothing to compete with Waffles the rooftop cat.

Across the room, Yelena caught his expression and muttered under her breath, “Oh for God’s sake.”

“What?” Ava asked.

Yelena pointed with her chin toward Bucky. “Barnes is having a romantic panic attack and none of you are helping.”

Alexei leaned closer, whispering, “Should we intervene?”

“No,” Yelena said. “He must suffer until he says something useful.”

You finally peeled yourself away from the chaos when Bob disappeared to get Waffles-related photos on his phone and John wandered off to argue with the Spotify algorithm.

You walked toward the kitchen, passing by Bucky. He looked up, startled.

“Hey,” you said casually, pausing near him. “You doing okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Still recovering from Bob’s smoothie-to-Waffles ratio. But otherwise? Pretty good.” A pause. Your voice dropped slightly, more sincere. “It was nice working with you again.”

His chest tightened. “Yeah,” he said, and then, before he could stop himself, “I missed it.”

You blinked. “Yeah?”

“Missed working with you,” he clarified, barely covering.

A beat passed. Your smile warmed. “I missed it too.”

And just like that, the wall between you cracked - just a little.

[sneakyxthexclown]

How Blitz Saved Stolas in Mastermind

Something I've been wanting to do for a WHILE is talk about a very, very specific scene in Mastermind. Seriously, it's, like, two sentences long, but it really stuck out to me, and I've been thinking about it since November. (Apologies if other people have talked about this before!)

Let me preface by saying, I LOVE English and writing. I minored in English with a writing concentration in undergrad, and I used to work in my college's writing center. When I didn't have appointments, I would study grammar rules and shit like that. While English is, in fact, a very stupid language, it is still quite fascinating.

The thing that really stuck out to me in Mastermind is Blitz's use of something called "passive voice" during the trial.

For those who may not know, passive voice is a way of constructing your sentences. It makes it so that the object of the sentence comes before the verb, and, in a sense, it can "hide" the subject. This is different from active voice, where the subject clearly does the verb to the object. For example:

Active voice: I (subject) kicked (verb) the ball (object).

Passive voice: The ball (object) was kicked (verb) by me (subject).

I've had MANY teachers tell me that using passive voice at all is a big no-no, and that's due to a couple of reasons. First, passive voice tends to create a more complex sentence, which can be harder for readers to interpret. And second, some people consider it too informal or "not proper" for writing because it's not as clear or concise as active voice.

HOWEVER

Passive voice is often still accepted when a person wants to remove blame or hide responsibility. For example:

The lamp was broken. The car was wrecked. The bank was robbed.

See how you still know what happened in all of those instances, but you don't know who did it?

That is exactly what Blitz does during the Mastermind trial.

After he admits to stealing the book (or "attempting" to steal the book as he says), he then states,

"Point is! It was given to me, okay? I was allowed to use it."

Instead of:

"Point is! Stolas gave it to me, okay? Stolas allowed me to use it."

Passive voice. Why?

To keep Stolas out of it. To protect him.

I believe that if Blitz had mentioned Stolas's name earlier, it would've been a surefire way to not only save Millie, Moxxie, and Loona but also his own life. I mean, look at how fast Satan was willing to change his tune once Stolas "confessed." Couldn't Blitz have just said, "hey, dude. Uh, actually, the royal who owns this book let me do all this, soooo, isn't he the one who should be in trouble here?" (Now, maybe Satan wouldn't have bought this since he wasn't willing to listen to most of what Blitz was trying to say that day, but that is an entirely different conversation.) He could've done that by using active voice.

But he didn't. He intentionally kept Stolas out of that entire conversation. In fact, Blitz never even mentions Stolas's name until Andrealphus already brought him up, until Blitz admits that he could've killed Stolas himself. But that still doesn't put any blame on Stolas. If anything, it just makes Blitz look more guilty.

I think we can all agree that Blitz isn't the type to throw his friends under the bus. Obviously, if Blitz and Stolas were on good terms, he would do anything to protect him. But they weren't on good terms.

This all takes place after the Full Moon, after Apology Tour, after all the screaming and the raging and the storming off in tears. Prior to the trial, the last time Blitz and Stolas saw each other, Blitz left still under the impression that Stolas was mad at him, that Stolas wanted nothing to do with him.

And even still, he didn't acknowledge the fact that Stolas did allow Blitz to use it (despite him stealing it first). Even though they weren't even close to speaking terms, Blitz still protected Stolas that day.

He could've tried to save his own ass. He could've been petty about the deal and said, "here, Stolas, this is what you get." But he didn't. Because even though Blitz has his own valid reasons for being mad at Stolas, he still loves him. And he'd still do anything to keep him out of danger.

Blitz tends to prefer actions over words (e.g., that's why Blitz gets upset when Stolas gives him the crystal. He interprets Stolas's actions as "you're throwing me away.") Stolas tends to prefer words over actions (e.g., that's why Stolas gets upset when Blitz roleplays with "I love you/I'll stay with you." He interprets Blitz's words as "this is a joke to me.")

But that day? They both chose the opposite.

Stolas's actions saved Blitz. And Blitz's words saved Stolas.

Isn't that neat?

[almostwisegalaxy]

Deep Headcanon: Na Baek-jin as a Boyfrie

Na beak jin x GN!reader

"You taught me that love shouldn't save me. It should just let me be someone new. - Na Baek-jin

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A Tense Romance: The Awakening of Vulnerability

Na Baek-jin doesn't fall in love easily. He sees attachment as an exploitable weakness, a distraction from his objectives. But you are the exception he never anticipated.

You arrived as a quiet counterpoint to his coldness: neither dazzled by his charisma nor frightened by his methods. You answered him without trembling. On that day, you became a mystery greater than all the schemes he orchestrated.

Love, for Baek-jin, is never expressed in simple words. He has never said "I love you." He doesn't know how. But you hear it in:

"You came home late. You should avoid that alley."

"I've changed your access code. It's safer now."

"I looked into that professor who's treating you badly."

He speaks of love as one draws up war plans: coldly, strategically, never saying why he worries.

But you learn to translate.

Heavy Silences, Talkative Glances

Baek-jin is not a man of tender gestures. But when he looks at you, his gaze says what he cannot verbalize. In his eyes, there is an anxious obsession, a love that frightens him.

The rare times he touches you, it's calculated:

He silently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, as if to make sure you're real.

He lets his hand brush yours when no one is looking.

He places a coat over your shoulders, not because you're cold, but because he cannot bear for anything to touch you without his consent.

It is a silent love, yet almost violently intense.

The Forbidden Notebook

One day, you discover a hidden notebook in a locked drawer. It's a journal. Na Baek-jin writes in it what he will never say.

"Today, they smiled at someone else. My stomach tightened. Is this fear?"

"I almost told them I was afraid of losing them. But it would have sounded like a loss of power. So I said: 'Do what you want. It's none of my business.'"

You never speak to him about it. You protect this secret as he protects yours. But sometimes you leave a note between the pages, a silent answer to his inner war.

Love Through Chaos

He draws you into a world of power, manipulation, and contained violence. But he never directly exposes you. He places an invisible barrier between you and what he does. Yet you know. You know his world devours his soul, that he sacrifices his last illusions of goodness.

And sometimes, at night, he breaks. He sits beside you. He says nothing. But his hands tremble. You place your hand on his, and for once, he doesn't pull away.

"I don't know who I would be without what I do. But I know that if you are no longer here, I am nothing."

This is not a declaration. It is a raw plea.

Mending What's Broken

Love with Na Baek-jin isn't about flowers or perfect photos. It's a field of ruins where you choose to plant a flower.

It's the silence in an empty apartment, where he leaves you the key, but never explicit permission. You invite yourself in when he can't take it anymore. You don't ask questions. You let him breathe. You make rice, you open a window.

One day, you fall ill. And unexpectedly, he takes care of you. In an almost mechanical, clumsy, yet clinically precise way. You sense he's never done this before. But he reads, he learns, he makes lists.

"You need to drink every 2 hours. I set alarms. I avoided anti-inflammatories; they interfere with your medication."

You cry. And he doesn't understand why.

The Day He Was Afraid

That day, you disappeared for six hours. Your phone was off. He searched everywhere. He called every contact, every camera, every informant.

When you return, exhausted by a simple dead battery and a traffic jam, he has no words. But he pulls you close, hard, brutally.

"Don't ever do that again. You don't have the right to disappear. You're not just someone in my life. You are my only anchor."

It's the first time he cries. And you say nothing. You just rest your head against his shoulder. And you understand: he let you in. You are in his nervous system now.

Rage and Tenderness: The Living Paradox

Love with Na Baek-jin is brutal and tender. He knows no moderation. When he worries, he shouts. When he's scared, he turns cold. When he loves you, he trembles.

He loves you like one loves on the edge of a void. Like someone who has never known solid ground.

But he learns. With you. Every day. Slowly. In small doses.

He starts sending you messages with a ❤️ that he deletes and re-adds three times before pressing "send." He starts resting his head on your shoulder, in an almost childlike gesture. He learns to fall asleep without fearing abandonment upon waking.

The Seasons' Notebook

One day, you create a tradition: writing him a letter with each change of season. He never replies. But you continue.

One winter day, he hands you a notebook. It contains his replies. All of them.

Spring: "I never thought I could love someone as much as my ambition. You showed me that love doesn't erase strength; it redirects it."

Summer: "I watched you laugh today. I wanted time to stop. For the first time, I wished to live for someone other than myself."

You cry as you read. He pulls you into his arms. And for the first time, he tells you:

"You are the only thing in this world I don't want to control. Just keep."

An Uncertain Future, But Together

Na Baek-jin doesn't believe in tomorrow. He lives by the logic of the present: control, survive, defend.

But sometimes, he watches you sleep, and he dares. He allows himself to dream.

He imagines an apartment where you don't have to hide. A café he would open, far from schemes and fists. A dog. Maybe a child. Normal evenings.

He doesn't believe it yet. But he confesses it to you one evening, whispering against your neck:

"I never thought I'd live to be old. But if I have to... I'd want it to be with you."

And that's what love with Baek-jin is.

It's not clean. It's not easy. But it's true.

It's the kind of love that hurts, that heals, that sometimes destroys, but if it survives, it becomes indestructible.

Because he loves you with all that he is—even what he hates about himself.

And one day, he finally understands that he might deserve to be loved in return.

Not despite all of it.

But because of all of it.

Love as Healing

Na Baek-jin remains a man of contradictions. He controls, he tests, he doubts. But he loves. Intensely. As if you were the last purity he deserves.

He respects you. Not just your body, but your ideas, your freedom, your right to question him. He relearns how to live. He deconstructs what he was taught: that love is weakness, that the world is a power game.

With you, he learns that intimacy is not a danger but a liberation. That saying "I'm tired" doesn't mean "I lose" but "I rest in your arms."

Love, Baek-jin Style

Loving Baek-jin isn't living an ideal romance. It's being loved by someone who knows the taste of blood, but who chooses to lay down his weapons before you.

It's seeing a boy everyone believes invincible wake up with a start at night and whisper: "Are you here?"

It's learning to decipher silence, to read between the lines of a gaze, to understand that a "Be careful" said while looking away means: "Come back alive to me; I wouldn't survive your loss."

It's living a love that doesn't try to be perfect, but chooses to be true.

It's loving a boy who has done terrible things, but who, with you, learns to be gentle without feeling weak.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

°Moments when he says I love you without words

The First Time He Fought for You

It was an alley. You weren't supposed to be there. Not supposed to see what you saw.

They surrounded you — not to truly hurt you, but to test. To hurt him, indirectly.

And when he arrived, he didn't even look at you at first.

He just stood in front of you, back straight, fists clenched.

He didn't yell. He didn't threaten.

He destroyed them. Methodically. Without a word.

And when it was all over, his knuckles bleeding, breathing heavily, he turned to you.

Not to reassure you.

He just whispered:

> "I told you not to linger here."

But his hands were trembling.

And you understood: it wasn't anger. It was fear. A panic-stricken fear of losing you.

The Night He Allowed Himself to Cry

You came to his place unannounced.

You found him sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathroom door, soaked in sweat and cold water.

He'd been fighting. Again. Not to survive this time — just because he didn't know what else to do to exist.

You didn't ask him any questions.

You sat across from him, knees touching knees.

And there, in the cold light, he lowered his head. He murmured:

> "I don't know how else to be. I've tried. But I always fall back."

> "You don't deserve someone like me."

And without you responding, he cried. Not loud sobs. Silent tears, full of humiliation and love intertwined.

You reached out your hand. He took it. It was the first time.

The Night He Whispered "Stay"

You were ready to leave. Another argument. Too much tension. Too many walls.

You had gotten out of bed, silently, in the dark.

And as you gathered your bag, you heard his voice. Deep, cracked. So human.

> "Stay."

One word. Just one.

Not a plea. Not an apology. A confession.

You stopped.

He sat up, still wrapped in the sheets, hair messy, gaze burning. He didn't move, but his whole body seemed to reach out to you.

> "I don't want you to leave... even if I don't have the words to tell you properly."

> "But if you leave... I know I won't recover from that."

You stayed.

Not because he begged you. But because it was true.

The Day He Had a Nightmare and Sought You Like a Child

He had always slept alone. Even with you beside him, there was a tension in his muscles that never truly left.

But one night, he screamed in his sleep.

A hoarse, deep cry. The kind that seems to well up from childhood, from unspoken traumas.

You woke him. He was sweating, eyes wild, hands clutching the sheet.

He looked at you as if he'd forgotten you truly existed.

And then he reached out.

Not like a lover. Like a ten-year-old boy who doesn't want to sleep alone in the dark anymore.

You came close to him. He hugged you so tightly you gasped for breath.

And in the crook of your neck, he whispered, almost inaudibly:

> "I dreamed you were leaving, and I couldn't catch you."

> "Even my legs wouldn't respond."

The Day He Said "I Love You" Without Saying It

He will never say those words in a classic way.

But one evening, as you watched the rain fall against the windows, he entered the room.

He sat beside you, rested his head on your shoulder, and remained there motionless for long minutes.

Then, as if speaking to the rain:

> "Before you, I never wanted to go home."

> "Now, it's the only place I want to go."

You said nothing. You simply placed your hand on his.

And he kept it there.

The Day He Entrusted You With His Future

It was mundane. A subway station. A moment between two obligations.

You were talking about plans. About the future. Simple dreams: a dog, a car, a normal job.

He smiled. Rare. Almost sad.

And then, without looking at you, he said:

> "Do you think a guy like me can have all that?"

> "Not now. But one day. With you."

And that day, for the first time, he allowed himself to hope.

Not in silence.

Out loud. With you.

The Moment He Defended You... From Yourself

You were devaluing yourself. Again.

You laughed, saying you weren't good enough, that you didn't understand why he stayed.

He froze.

Then he stood up, approached slowly, and looked you straight in the eyes.

> "Don't you ever say that again."

> "You are the only clean thing in my life. And I swear, I will destroy anyone who makes you believe you're worthless—including you."

You felt like crying.

Not because he was yelling. But because it was true. Raw. Protective. Na Baek-jin, in all his rage to love.

And That Silence...

The most intense?

It's not a scene. Not a declaration.

It's that moment, where you're sitting next to each other, saying nothing.

He looks at your hands. You look at the scar on his chin.

And in that silence, you feel everything he will never be able to express.

> That he loves you like a survivor loves the morning light.

> That he's afraid, every day, of losing you.

> And that he's ready to become a new man—not for you.

But because, thanks to you, he discovered he was capable of it.

............................* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊

Conclusion:

Na Baek-jin as a boyfriend is not an easy romance. It's a story of healing, of balance between control and surrender, between strategy and sincerity.

But if you hold on, if you understand his language, if you respect his silences, then you become more than a love for him: you become a refuge. And he will be willing to do anything to protect it.

Na Baek-jin never learned to love. But with you, he creates a new code. A love that is at once raw, honest, and indestructible.

..................................................................................

Other weak hero class fanfictions here

Yeah. My man (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

@mariii-0001 @mizxuqii @iiwsmr