#“i didn't forget any lines or anything?”

[patiencespardon]

hopping onto my oft-forgotten tumblr during alectopause to talk about something i've been mulling over re: mythology, namesakes, and foreshadowing in tlt.

so here, have a rambly mess of classics, nomenclature, dooming and un-dooming characters, and cornplating about ianthe. enjoy??

obligatory disclaimer: tlt is obviously its own property and is most certainly not a one-to-one retelling of anything in particular.

however!! as we all know, tazmuir loves a good reference, and in particular, a good name reference. often, we've seen those names foreshadowing (usually bad) events that happen to the characters that bear them. some examples:

protesilaus: from πρῶτος, first, is the first to die in both tlt and the iliad. both pros also have wives named mia and laodamia.

palamedes, who was almost diomedes: from two mythological clever smart boys (cf homer, hyginus, apollodorus). also, palamedes (myth version) def gets murdered.

pyrrha: from πυρρός, red-haired (well, yeah), relations to achilles (cf hyginus) and neoptolemus (originally pyrrhus), as well as to epirote king pyrrhus, whose battle casualties led to the term "pyrrhic victory."

camilla: from camilla in virgil's aeneid, another fantastically capable warrior maiden who makes a devatasting eleventh-hour sacrifice after getting stabbed. rip sweet princess :(

plenty more from other works (see: dulcinea, augustine, paul). point being, this is a trend, and it's often oof ouch.

anybody else i'm forgetting? anybody missing? oh, hi, ianthe, didn't see you over there!

ianthe is a character who's been a thorn in my theorizing side for years. and her name is no different!

perhaps the simplest explanation is that her name is just meant to be an aesthetic choice, not a referential one. we know from nona that the twins' mother is called violabeth. presumably, coronabeth is named after her mother, à la priamhark - harrowhark. and ianthe, likely derived from the greek ίανθος, violet, is a good tie-in to both their mother's name and the third's house colors.

in all fairness, that's probably it. but stick with me here!!!

there is an ianthe in mythology – in book 9 of ovid's metamorphoses, to be exact. and the really interesting thing? that ianthe gets a happy ending.

iphis and ianthe is a super interesting story. to sum up: iphis is born afab but is raised male, falls in mutual love with schoolmate ianthe and the pair are engaged, laments being afab and longs to be a man so the marriage can come to fruition. isis intervenes, iphis is metamorphosed into a man, and the pair happily marry.

so, elle, this is very cool and all, but does this have anything to do with tlt ianthe? if there are parallels, they're certainly significantly less obvious compared to, say, mr. "dies first" protesilaus.

the connections are loose, but, dare i say, they are...there?

i+i is one of the only extant mythological examples we have of homoerotic desire, which feels very on the nose for tlt lmao

we also have this emphasis on marriage in i+i, with ianthe in particular "keenly [seeking]" a marriage that iphis is trying to delay. someday she's going to marry that girl? anyone?

most importantly: we have a clear emphasis on gender. while it is more in relation to iphis than ianthe, iphis does wonder whether "either" of them could be changed, and there are clear anxieties and discomfort around gender presentation and social ramifications of gender that line up very well with tower prince, naberius-soul-concoction ianthe.

I find ianthe very interesting in relation to this naming trend for two reasons. ianthe, unlike any other character with a "myth" name, doesn't have a clear connection to her namesake. and mythological ianthe, unlike any of the other namesakes, is a relatively "happy" story.

is this in service of saying that ianthe is bound for a happy ending? well, no. of course, I think ianthe is a very likely candidate for the alecto wedding, and, while I would be absolutely shocked out of my seat if she ended the series alive, it's somehow on-brand for her in my mind for her to live as much as it is for her to die. but i'm also team ianthe-was-originally-abella, per the gtn naming system guide, and abel is notorious for, uh, not getting a happy ending.

what this is hopefully in service of saying is that I find it really interesting when references do and don't apply. when I initially made the ianthe-ianthe connection in my brain, I dismissed it out of hand – ianthe, love and light, bestie, is doomed! of course she has nothing to do with one of the few hopeful, happy stories in the greek and roman mythos!

but the more I think about it, the more I realize how perfect this is for her. she isn't like the other mythologically-named characters, all of whom are named for characters in mythological epic, those big, classic, dramatic narratives of homer and virgil.

no, ianthe is from the metamorphoses. the epic written by the guy who is clever, cheeky, who knows rules and epic convention so well that he flouts and plays with them where he pleases. ovidian epic, the metamorphoses, is in itself a metamorphosis and collision of genres and tonalities and styles. this isn't the story of a hero. this is the fucky, wonky, anti-epic epic that doesn't fit into any tidy boxes.

sounds familiar?

this is, as I said at the top, completely and utterly cornplating at this point. but I just think it's so silly goofy and absolutely sensical for this series to have this mythological naming trend, to buck that trend, only to have this understanding that the trend has indeed not been bucked on account of a character's own trend being bucking all the trends.

and as for the saint of awe herself? whatever big dramatic horrible thing she does in alecto is anyone's guess. she's metamorphosing, baby. nobody can quite pin her down, and if ovidian references have anything to say about it, that's entirely by design.

anyway I Just Think She's Neat. if you've made it all the way here mwah lots of love for reading my silly rambles <3

[gds-daisy]

track 3: BANG BANG BANG

part 3 of made (atties version)

pairing: kwon jiyong x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!jiyong, sub!reader, fingering (fem!receiving), oral (fem!receiving), unprotected p in v sex, teasing, praise, dirty talk, pet names, angst, friends to lovers, cheating.

a/n: i am so honored to be part of this collab with some of my lovely writer friends so i hope you guys enjoy the fic! also, the end is fluffy which is unexpected especially since i was assigned bang bang bang, but i didn't want to throw away the entire plot so please don't kill me yall

Tonight was supposed to be a distraction from reality…more specifically from your boyfriend, Jake.

He had been acting like a dick all week and you didn’t know what his deal was. The two of you were supposed to go on a date tonight that had been planned weeks back, but he was already 15 minutes late. Maybe he had gotten stuck in traffic or maybe he was still getting ready. He wouldn’t stand you up, would he? Wrong.

When another agonizing 10 minutes passed by, you knew something was up. Sure he was sometimes late when it came to picking you up, but he never blew you off entirely. This was unlike him, that much you knew for sure. That’s why you had sent him a chain of texts to make sure everything was okay.

“let me know if you’re running late”

“how far away are you?”

“did you forget about our date?”

“hello?”

Nothing. Not a word.

Okay fair enough. Maybe he really was on his way and couldn’t text you back. After all, he had to be careful while driving so he wouldn’t get into a car accident or any other serious situation that would prevent him from not being able to make it to your apartment. Perhaps calling him would be a better alternative.

As you pressed on the phone icon next to his contact, you could feel yourself become more worried. The trilling sound that came from the phone was practically mocking you. Just as you were about to hang up entirely upon the second to last ring, the trilling stops entirely.

“Hello?” Jake answers groggily.

“Hey! Are you on your way? I mean it's already 7:30 and you were supposed to be here about 25 minutes ago,” you remind him, trying not to get so worked up so quickly.

“Shit that was tonight?” he asks as if it’s the first time he’s hearing about this.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” you say with a frustrated look on your face as your hand finds its way to your forehead, now rubbing away at your temples.

“Look I’m so-” he starts to say but just before he can finish, he’s cut off by a feminine voice in the background.

“You can join me in the shower if you’d like, baby,” you hear the voice say.

And just like that, you felt your heart sink within a matter of seconds of hearing those words. You didn’t know if your ears were playing a cruel joke on you when you heard the pet name escape the girl’s lips on the other line. No. It couldn’t be. This had to be a dream…a really fucked up dream. What you just heard wasn’t a misunderstanding, but you desperately wanted it to be more than anything. Sure, he had been an asshole to you sometimes, but this? This was a new low even for him. This was the same man who told you that he wanted you and only you forever…the same man who had told you not even three weeks ago that he wanted to marry you one day. But he was also the same man who had just made you look like an idiot. God, how could you be so damn blind? Now it all made sense…the way he had been distancing himself lately, the way he stopped complimenting you, the way he started giving you less than the bare minimum. You had cried over him so many times when he treated you like shit but would always want to be in his company whenever you had those crying episodes. It made no sense whatsoever.

That’s when a switch went off in your brain. He would never change. The cycle was constant, especially these past few months. He was constantly making you feel like you were in the wrong for feeling the way you did about certain things he did. It seemed like no matter how many times you told him how you felt about his unacceptable behavior, the more he would indulge in it. Not only did your sadness build up these past few months, but so did your anger. You couldn’t even count how many times you had gone to bed angry at him while he didn’t have a care in the world about how you felt. The next part of the cycle was you begging for the two of you to fix things. You hated begging for the bare minimum, and it was starting to get draining. As much as you always wanted to resolve issues whenever they arose, it was starting to be a more common occurrence than not. You were done. 

“Don’t you dare even try to explain yourself,” you seethed with venom that was practically dripping from your voice.

“Baby please! It was a stupid mistake!” he pleads. 

“The only stupid mistake made here was me wasting so much time on you,” you angrily say before hanging up on him entirely, not letting him have the last word for once.

You still couldn’t believe it had come to this. It was just too much to take in. On one hand you felt angrier than all hell, but on the other hand, you were in mourning. The guy you had once known was now just a stranger. A ghost of his former self. You should’ve seen this coming especially with all the telltale signs being right in front of your face, but like an idiot–you had chosen to ignore them even when it didn’t serve your best interests at heart. You had fallen for his whole “I-want-to-change-just-for-you” act. Hell, you were even an investor. 

The anger and sorrow were now plaguing your mind and heart. You couldn’t take it. You needed a distraction…a healthy one. One that would ease your mind even if it were just for a few hours at most.

That’s how you found yourself at your best friend Jiyong’s apartment for an early in the week movie night.

Jiyong and you had been best friends for years. You guys met at YG Entertainment when both of your groups were preparing for their respective debuts in the music industry. To say that period of your life was stressful would be the understatement of the century. It was filled with dance lessons and vocal practices that would drag into the long hours of the night. But that's what brought you and Jiyong closer together. Both of you shared the same experiences which brought great comfort to one another. Before you knew it, you had started hanging out with him outside of the walls of YG Entertainment. Whether it was a laughter filled movie night on his couch or a night out on the town, you always had a fun time with Jiyong.

There was something about it that made it so special. Maybe it was the fact that you could be yourself around him or the fact that you guys were always able to find new movies to watch, even if they turned out to be god awful. It also gave you something to look forward to each week, especially if it was a rough week. It was the only sense of normalcy you had ever known.

“We’ve got options tonight!” you hear Jiyong say from the hall before entering his room.

“I swear to god if you suggest The Human Centipede again, I will kill you myself Kwon Jiyong,” you warn, loud enough for him to hear.

“You know I was joking!” he responds back.

“Mhm sure you were, Ji,” you say with a scoff. “Now tell me what your brilliant mind has come up with this week”

“I was thinking we could watch either Scream, The Conjuring, or Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he suggests.

“Wow Ji, you’ve outdone yourself this time,” you say with a laugh, no malice behind it.

“And I’m almost offended…now pick,” Jiyong says.

“Let’s go with Scream…can’t go wrong with Skeet Ulrich. I mean have you seen that man?” you ask him rhetorically, a smile now spread across your face. If you weren’t completely caught up in your laughter, you would’ve noticed the look of disappointment that had taken over Jiyong’s once calm face. He knew it was stupid to be upset about, but that didn’t stop him from feeling that way. Jiyong knew he probably wasn’t your type, which always left a pit in his stomach. I mean for god's sake; he was in love with you. How could he not be? You made him feel like he mattered when nothing else did. You were his confidant, his support system, and most of all—the woman he loved. He hated feeling this hopeless. He had fame, money, and you…but not in the way he wanted. He wanted all of you, but he knew he never would be able to so what was the point of telling you at all? 

Shaking off his thoughts, he put all his focus back into the present moment. “Alright let’s get this movie night started!” he says, hoping it seemed enthusiastic enough to you so you wouldn’t suspect that anything was wrong. When you didn’t respond, he almost felt relieved. He let out a sigh before he drew his eyes to the screen and dug his hand into the bowl of popcorn, hoping the movie would distract him from this fucked up reality.

The final act of the movie had you on the edge of the sofa. All hell had broken loose as Skeet Ulrich’s character Billy was revealed to be the killer when he shot Randy and sent him flying through the table. The sound of the gun going off scared you half to death and made you jump backwards into Jiyong’s arms. His arms cradled yours in response and looked at you to make sure you were alright. “Are you okay?” he softly asks, the sound of the movie becoming nothing more than pure background noise. 

“No! He just shot Randy!” you let out melodramatically. 

“I totally saw that one coming…I mean how could you trust a guy with greasy hair like that?” he scoffs. All you could do was playfully slap his arm in response. “I really thought he was innocent, not to mention he betrayed Sidney too,” you pout.

“So, are you Team Randy or Team Billy then?” he asks out of curiosity. 

“I have no idea, Ji. I mean Billy’s hot, and Randy is sweet and geeky. It’s hard to choose. What about you?”

“I would have to say I’m Team Randy here,” he says without hesitation.

“And why’s that?” you ask teasingly, eager to hear his reasoning. 

“Well Randy is kind of an underdog…I mean think about it. He’s the shy and nerdy comedic relief and he seemed to really care about Sidney…not to mention that his hair is actually clean,” Jiyong explains.

“Kwon Jiyong, you softie!” you say as your mouth falls agape from his shocking response.

“If I'm a softie, then you're a scaredy cat for jumping at that gunshot," he mocks.

“You know what? I take back what I said. You’re just an asshole,” you say jokingly, now pulling your body away from his. 

“I’m so mean I know…” Jiyong trails, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he rolls his eyes simultaneously. 

“C'mon let’s get back to the movie! We’re missing all the good parts!” you groaned.

And with that, both of your guys’ eyes returned to the screen, anticipating the rest of the movie.

As the end credits rolled onto the screen of Jiyong’s TV, the both of you sat there in shock, unsure of how to feel about everything that had just happened within the last quarter of the movie. 

“Holy shit…I did not see any of that coming…did you?” you ask him, still dumbfounded and trying to collect your thoughts.

“I knew that Stu was probably gonna be the second killer anyway, but I did not expect Gale and Dewey to still be kicking,” he shares. 

“Right?! I thought Gale was a goner when she wrapped her car around that tree,” you let out with a laugh.

“Plot armor at its finest, I’m telling ya,” Jiyong laughs back with a smile entrapping his face. “I’m still mad Randy didn’t get with Sidney; I will admit that.” he adds on.

“I mean to be fair look what she just went through…Billy was a damn psychopath,” you chuckle softly. 

“I think we both know another psychopath boyfriend,” he mutters loud enough for you to hear, earning him an unreadable facial expression.

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct him. 

“Does he know that?” he asks with a hint of annoyance in his voice.

“I’m pretty sure I made my message loud and clear,” you clarify with a laugh.

“Good. That asshole deserves to have his ass handed to him after what he did to you,” Jiyong says defensively.

Jiyong knew he shouldn’t be acting like this, but he couldn’t help it. He hated seeing you upset whenever you told him the newest thing your now-ex had done to make you cry. He had been there for all of it even when you wanted to shut everybody out in the process. In his eyes, you were the best thing to ever exist. You were his entire world even if he wasn’t yours. You made him better. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re my best friend, Ji,” you say, sounding more bashful than ever as a pink tint takes over your cheeks.

“No, I'm saying that because I love you!” Jiyong suddenly blurts out before he can even comprehend what he just said.

Within a blink of an eye, the room fell silent. The two of you could only stare in shock as the both of you were trying to process what the hell just happened. Jiyong couldn’t believe himself. He had just confessed his feelings for you when he didn’t even mean to. It was just as shocking to you, maybe even more. This was the second time today where you felt like your ears were deceiving you. There was no way this was happening.

“You what?” you ask still in disbelief. You needed to know for sure.

“I love you…I always have,” he confesses with raw passion. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to tell you how I felt. It was eating me alive…consuming me.”

So, this was real. This wasn’t the universe playing tricks on you. All of it was authentic. You could tell from the way the words fell from his mouth…the same way his song lyrics sounded. They were also full of longing and soft passion. It all made sense now.

“Please say something…anything. I just need to know what you’re thinking,” Jiyong pleads softly.

“I think I love you too Ji,” you admit, the heat rising to your cheeks again. “I think somewhere along the way I fell for you even if I didn’t want to admit it. I felt so ashamed especially since I was still dating him,” you let out.

“He never deserved a girl like you,” he says, almost sounding a bit harsh. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find his words to be attractive. Hell, you didn’t even realize your thighs were now clenched together as a result of his words. With each passing second, you were becoming more aware of the aching pain that resided in between your legs. You had enough.

“Ji…if you don’t kiss me right now, I swear to god…” you trailed, your voice laced with both neediness and lust.

That was all he needed.

Within seconds, his lips attacked yours and all you could do was fall deeper into the kiss like it was some sort of magnetizing trance. You knew you should pull away, tell him to stop, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to. It felt right. The kiss was one of desire but also longing. You had been wanting to do this for ages, ever since your relationship was on a downward spiral. Your ex wasn’t the one comforting you after a bad day. Jiyong was. Your ex wasn’t the one who helped you pick up the pieces after a mental breakdown. Jiyong did. It was all Jiyong. How you couldn’t see that sooner was beyond you, but you didn’t care about any of that when your lips were currently locked with Jiyong’s with no sign of stopping.

His hands slowly trail down your body before they take their final resting place at your hips. The contact was one sparked by greed but also angst. As for your hands, they were now cradling his face like the crane of a claw machine. You could feel how desperate the kiss had become with his tongue now practically down your throat, almost like he was trying to prove something. He wanted you and only you.

Your bodies are practically flush against each other at this point, so much so that you can feel his clothed hard on through the material of your pajama pants. Just feeling it against your clothed heat was enough for you to become embarrassingly wet. You were never so needy before tonight. Your ex never knew what turned you on, let alone try to even learn what you were into. Every time the two of you slept together, it had ended with you feeling unfulfilled and dirty. Hell, he never even gave you an orgasm. Not even once.

“Ji…I need you,” you let out against his soft lips.

“I need you more,” Jiyong says with raw desire. 

“Then take me,” you challenge, your hand now brushing against the tent in his pants which makes him buck directly into your hand. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing to me, sweetheart…” he warns with no real threat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you innocently say as you plaster a shit eating grin across your angelic face while still palming him through his pants. 

That was it.

Before you knew it, your legs were now straddling his lap with a cobra like vice. His hands found their way to your hips before making you rock back and forth on his lap. You could practically feel his erection brushing away at your now needy cunt, almost like he wanted to tease you for the little stunt you had just pulled. “Now do you see what I’m talking about, baby?” Jiyong asks bluntly. He doesn’t stop there, no. His pace quickens just the tiniest bit, but it proves to be enough to have you moaning into his mouth which earns a smile from him. “You’re making it so hard to be gentle with you…” he warns.

“Who said I wanted you to be gentle?” you say mischievously.

Oh my god. You were going to kill this man.

It was like an invisible yet existent switch went off in him that made him crave you even more than he already did. Suddenly his lips draw themselves away from your mouth before they attack your lips. He starts harshly sucking away at the supple skin, which only makes your head tilt back in response. You knew that hickeys were inevitable with the way he was nipping at your neck with his warm mouth, which was slowly making its way towards your collarbone. He decides to strip you of your shirt in the process, now sliding it over your head before discarding the fabric to the floor entirely. Jiyong’s brown eyes are introduced to the sight of your perky tits, which makes him feel like he could come untouched any second now. He doesn’t waste anymore time before laying you down on the bed and pulling himself off of you to strip himself of the clothes that made him feel like he was being suffocated.

Once he’s down to wearing absolutely nothing, he gets back on top of you and immediately latches his mouth onto your pebbled areola. He drags the sensitive skin with his teeth, making you gasp in response. “Fuck you’re the most perfect girl I’ve ever seen…everything about you is perfect,” he mutters softly while still sucking away at your nipple. “These are fucking perfect,” he groans.

He switches over to your other breast, giving it the same treatment he gave the other one. This time however, he sucks even harder at the skin with the intention of leaving a trail of hickeys that would later be littered all over your exposed chest.

“You want me, jagi?” he mumbles both confidently and teasingly against the nape of your collarbones. 

“More than anything…” you plead almost sounding pathetic as you did so. 

“Let’s see how true that is then,” he teases. You were confused by his words at first. That was until he slowly slid his hand down your plaid pajama pants, earning an airy gasp from you. His fingers run over the lace fabric of your panties only for them to trace the now wet spot that had formed. “You’re drenched f’me and I’ve barely even touched you…poor thing,” Jiyong tuts. “Wonder what I would find if I just…” he continues before experimentally sliding two fingers inside your panties, slowly rubbing away at your clothed cunt with his fingers.

“Need more…please…” are the only words you manage to get out at this moment.

“Only since you asked so nicely…gotta get you ready f’me anyway,” Jiyong says with a pleased look on his face. He gets off of you for a second so he could properly discard your pants. Once he does so, he brings his fingers back to your heat and continues rubbing away at your heat, all while keeping a steady pace. He didn’t even have to pull his hand out of your panties to know that his fingers were already drenched with your slick and creamy arousal. Jiyong decides to take it one step further and slides two fingers inside your tight cunt as a way to gauge a reaction from you. You dig your fingernails into his shoulder blades which only encourages him to set a quicker pace. He manages to curl his fingers just right and finds that sweet spot deep inside you that even you didn’t know existed. All you knew was that it had you rutting your hips upward in an attempt to gain more friction. “Such a good girl…taking my fingers so well,” he praises. 

Jiyong knew his words got to both you and your cunt went he felt you tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t help but flash a cocky grin at this fact. It was also a telltale sign that you were close to reaching your high, which Jiyong wanted to give to you more than anything. “Cum on my fingers baby…I know you want to,” he coos into your ear, practically encouraging you to do so. With a few more harsh thrusts of his fingers, you finally came undone, your release creating a sticky mess on his fingers. Jiyong continued to finger fuck you through your orgasm, making sure you were fully satisfied.

Once you finally come down from the mind shattering orgasm he had given you, he pulls his fingers out of you just as fast as he did when he first inserted them inside you. You laid there panting as you tried to catch your breath after what had just gone down. While you were doing so, you see Jiyong insert his fingers into his mouth, now getting a taste of your sweet release. He closed his eyes as he relished the taste that had taken over his mouth. He knew one thing for sure. He wanted more–no. He needed more.

“You did so well for me…I think that deserves a reward, but only if you want it. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable,” he says a bit softer this time. 

“I’m sure Ji, I promise…just need you,” you confess, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

“Anything for you, pretty girl,” Jiyong says as he kisses you on the lips once more. “Can I take these off?” he asks, referring to your panties. You nod at his question, which makes him feel more at ease.

Finally receiving permission from you, he slowly strips you of your drenched panties before throwing them onto the bedroom floor. You’re now leaning against the headboard as you anticipate his next move. The thought of it alone was enough for goosebumps to form on your skin. “Open your legs f’me,” he coos to which you comply with. His face is now nestled in between your thighs all while kissing the supple and soft skin. He takes in the sight before him and swore he was in heaven right now. It seemed too good to be true, almost like he was having a surreal wet dream. Just being so close to your bare pussy was enough for the blood in his body to rush directly to his already hard dick. He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed to devour you. 

And with that, he teasingly licks a long stripe against your glistening and aching folds. He lets out a guttural groan as he tastes you. The tip of his tongue disappears as it makes its way inside your core entirely. The sudden intrusion has you tugging at his hair for support, which only eggs him on further. You could feel every flick of his tongue as it brushed against your swollen clit ever so skillfully. It was as if devouring your cunt and taking in the smell of you were the only things keeping Jiyong alive in this moment. He was a man starved and now here you were–all sprawled out for him on his bed and squirming with each stroke of his tongue as it lapped away at your poor little pussy. Even the sound of your juices being extracted with his tongue was music to his ears.

“Just like that!” you exclaim with a pornographic moan, now grinding against his face in order to gain more friction. Jiyong’s tongue continues to assault your cunt at the pace he had previously set. He was getting drunk on your pussy already, but he didn’t give a damn. 

“Fuck jagi…tastes so sweet,” he garbled, his mouth still flush against your warm flesh. Suddenly, you felt him sucking away at the lips of your labia, almost as if he was trying to make out with your pussy entirely. You wouldn’t be wrong. Your cunt was the best thing he ever tasted in his life and he would gladly die in between your legs if it came down to it. Jiyong violently started shaking his head in an attempt to lick up all your juices that were smeared against your delicious cunt. The sensation of his tongue dragging up and down your sore folds had you curling your toes in response.

 You didn’t know if it was because of how sensitive your last orgasm had left you or not, but you could feel a coil start to form within the walls of your tummy, the pressure becoming too much to bear. Nevertheless, Jiyong could feel how clenched your pussy had become for him while his mouth was still consuming you.

“I’m gonna cum Ji!” you moan ever so pathetically.

“Come on aein, give it to me…make a mess all over my face,” he softly orders you. “Show how good of a girl you can be.” With a few more flicks of his tongue, your second orgasm of the night hits you like a freight train, your release now covering his gorgeous face. His tongue works you through your orgasm by lapping away at any remaining juices that may have escaped his tongue the first time around. He finally pulls away from your heat before wiping his chin with his fingers. After doing so, he makes sure to slide his fingers into his mouth before cleaning them entirely, not letting a single drop go to waste. 

After laying on the bed motionless for a hot second, you somehow muster the strength to sit up straight and get close enough to Jiyong until your lips are practically brushing against the shell of his ear.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper seductively, but also with a hint of vulnerability.

“Is that so?” he implores, awaiting whatever answer you would give him. 

“Mhmmm,” you hum.

“I think we can arrange that,” he says before he connects his lips with yours and positions the two of you flush against one another, now laying down on the bed. You can feel how hard his erection is against your bare and exposed pussy. His cock is practically brushing against your drenched folds and it’s agonizing. 

“Please…need your cock inside me…can’t wait any longer,” you beg out of impatience.

“How do you want it? You want it slow or fast, angel?” Jiyong asks you.

“I want it fast,” you claim.

“Okay baby, it might hurt at first. Just let me know if you want to stop at all and I will. Your pleasure is just as important as mine,” he says, placing a peck on your lips. 

Before you know it, he slides his cock into you all at once, giving you almost no time to adjust to his size. The stretch was one that burned, but also felt so fucking delicious. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and he hadn’t even started moving yet.

“Ready jagi?” he asks with a grin on his face. You nodded at his words, which was the only green light he needed. He had immediately started thrusting into your tight hole at an ungodly pace, one that made a string of moans expel from your plush lips. Your hips were grinding against his, which made it easier for his cock to brush your g-spot in a way that Jake never did. “Fuck baby…you feel so good squeezing me so tight like this…bet he never fucked you the way you deserved, hm?” he asks mockingly.

“N-no he didn’t,” you cry out as his cock continued to pummel into your abused cunt.

“What a fucking shame…had the most beautiful girl ever and couldn’t please her,” he says in between grunts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as the headboard was practically hitting the thin walls of his bedroom. He didn’t care if the upstairs neighbors could hear the two of you going at it like rabbits in heat. All he was focused on was fucking you like his life depended on it. “But it’s okay baby because your Jiyongie is here to help you.”

“Harder!” you cry out as your eyes screw shut. 

Hearing how desperate you were only made Jiyong more turned on. The fact that he was the one making you feel like this. The fact that  he got to hear your pleas escape your pretty lips. He knew he wouldn’t last long at this rate. Just like you wouldn’t. 

His thrusts had become more erratic and messy at this point. Both of you could feel his balls tighten as they slapped against your ass perfectly, only adding to the eroticness of it all. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching you as he pounded into you with his fat cock.There were so many sensations coursing through your body to the point where it was overstimulating for your brain to process them all. It felt like you were on cloud nine, but in a more exhilarating way that had you gripping at the sheets due to how intense it was. 

All of a sudden, you feel yourself clench around his cock once more as he continues his movements. Yeah, you were definitely close.

“I’m gonna cum…oh fuck,” you warn him.

“I know, sweet girl. I know. Let go for me…I wanna feel you cream all over my cock,” he says almost in a hushed whisper. 

With a few more slams of his hips, you felt a jolt deep inside you, resulting in your third orgasm of the night. The feeling of you gushing all over him propelled him to slam into you a few more times before eventually emptying himself inside you with a groan, all hot and sticky. His movements finally slowed down as the two of you came down from your shared climaxes. Eventually, he pulled out of you and laid down on the opposite side of your body. The two of you were now looking directly into each other's eyes, almost with the intention of staying lost in them forever. 

His hand finds its way to your cheek, now cradling it softly with admiration. “You did so well for me…I’m sorry if it was too much,” he apologizes.

“Are you kidding me? That was amazing.” you assure him with a tired smile.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he says, his voice above a whisper.

“I appreciate it, Ji. I really do. You made me feel so special and cared for,” you say.

“That's because you are special. You’re the most special girl I’ve ever met and will ever meet,” Jiyong replies. “You’re my everything”.

“You’re my everything too…you always have been,” you confess.

“C’mere,” he says while motioning you to come closer with his free hand.

You do as he says and within no time, your lips reunite with his in a slow and tender kiss. Not one filled with lust or greed. Just a pure kiss. The kiss lasts for a few seconds more before Jiyong pulls away.

“I meant what I said earlier…I love you with everything I have,” he says sheepishly.

“And so did I,” you say with a laugh.

Things were finally right.

writers: @namsgyu @mashtatosworld @gdinthehouseee @ldydeath @wcnderlnds @eru-vande @emmiesoverthemoon @petersasteria @breakmeoff @makeitworse

readers: @seungttttop @keiraryan @moontabi @mintandmuse @steponupbabe @heartubeatusalon @burningheartdetective @thanosspills @aizshallnotbefound @ttturnitup

[psychopomp-namine]

I actually have a fic idea but lc is a show that's like. you will never ever have all the information and context until the end. and I am a writer who writes best and more confidently when I have all the info and context at my fingertips. so now I'm just like 🧍‍♂️

anyway. ramble in the tags

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

If there is at least one thing I can credit FE for doing better than Tales in localization, it's not trying to actively go out of their way for an entire game to avoid subtext or direct text between two men that is romantic or implied romantic. Funny when it's so present that the attempt doesn't even work; infuriating that it was attempted to begin with.

So as much as I often have issues with some of FE's localizations, at least they have a leg up on loc Tales for that.

[ourceliumnetwork]

it is not slacking off to write or create it is not slacking off to do things that are fun i am not slacking off or procrastinating right now i'm allowed to do things i enjoy doing for fun including playing games and writing and such

[lucyhasnoidea]

tbh i just feel like nothing in my life sparks joy right now

[suncoved]

OVERPROTECTIVE! — RAFE CAMERON (smut 18+, mdni.)

pairing; dealer!rafe cameron x toppersister!reader

summary: when your friend dragged you to the cut of one of the pouges infamous keggers, you didn't expect to be dragged home by your brothers dealer best friend.

warnings: kinda innocent!reader, talk of drugs, partying and drinking. smut 18+ only please please! (haven't proof read...)

"this is such a bad idea" you murmured quietly, glancing across at the boneyard from your friend kate's pristine white jeep.

"oh cmon, it'll be fun. and anyways, how could your brother find you all the way out here. he would rather die than set foot on the cut" kate rambled, yanking out of the car while her heels made a crunching sound against the gravel of the carpark.

on the ride over from figure eight, you had gnawed at your bottom lip so hard you wouldn't be surprised if you drew blood. topper would have actually killed you if he found out what you were doing.

you had been to parties on your side of the island before, and even those made your brother mad, but never had you stepped foot at a kegger on the cut.

but, here you were at 11:15 on a saturday night, about to 100 per cent regret every decision you had ever made that led to this. but it was your senior year! and you were sick and tired of letting topper dictate what you did and didn't do.

you had come to the realisation that you weren't really sure why topper cared so much about what you did. i mean sure he was your twin brother, who would never make you forget how he was in fact 2 minutes older, but he had never really cared what you did before.

i mean sure, you guys were close and he cared if you were safe or not, but it was only really until he became closer with his friend rafe that he started getting really, really overprotective.

rafe had been lurking around your house since you were little, always bossing topper around and annoying that absolute shit out of you. but never saying any more than one word to you before pulling topper into any mess he was about to get into.

"cmon cmon, lets go party!" kate exclaimed, pulling you out of your thoughts and also onto the soft sand of the boneyard.

it was safe to say that this party was far from the ones you had witnessed before. there were people do coke on any surface you could see, the distinct smell of weed filling your nostrils and kegs upon kegs lined up against the fallen branches.

"miss thorton! what brings you around my neck of the woods!?" you hear a voice yell behind you before an arm is slung quickly around your shoulder.

"shush jj! im undercover" you joke, pushing your perfecting manicured finger against your lips. "whoops! my bad princess" he slurred, swaying against your body as he pushed more and more of his weight onto you.

you giggled, swiftly setting him down on the sand before he made you topple over. "he'll be fine, just needs a little rest" john b beams to you, passing you a red solo cup full of suspicious liquid before you could decline.

you smiled at him and held the cup weighing heavily in your hand, noticing kate was long gone from your side. you looked around nervously, what were you doing?

you didn't drink, you didn't do drugs, you didn't party.

you were the classic good girl of kildare county, and your skirt was way to precious to you to get anything spilt on it. but you were here, so why don't you just enjoy yourself right?

you looked down at the liquid in the cup, it fizzing and foaming as it stared back at you. you took a cautionary sip before nearly gagging, the acid making its way down your throat.

"yuck!" you whispered to yourself, pulling a face as you rested the cup down on a branch so someone could pick it up later.

the music pumped in your ears, people dancing and swaying on the shore of the beach as the lights of the street only dimly lit the area up.

you heard your name being yelled behind you as kate embraced you in a hug, swaying and smelling of weed. "i have to introduce you to someone, apparently he sells the best weed on the island! why don't you try some! but shush let's not tell your brother" she slurred her words as she rambled on, pulling you across the sand into the crowd of people.

"you know kate, i don't think this is the best idea" you muttered, letting her guide you where the music was louder and the smell was far more intense.

"it will be fun! and we can tell him its your first time! i mean apparently, he is not a nice guy but you have a knack for changing that about people!" you rolled your eyes at her babble, your feet suddenly stopping once you had arrived at your apparent destination.

you were still hidden behind kate as she approached the man sitting on a broken branch, his legs spread wide and hands sifting through money.

"hey! my friend really wants to try your stuff, think you could help us out?" kate asked, pulling you out from behind her as a small gasp left your lips.

"y/n? what the fuck are you doing here!" rafe spat, gathering all his cash and baggies and stuffing them in his pocket. "you two know each other?"

you shifted your eyes from his angered face, jaw clenching and fists bunched tightly together.

"yeah, and you're an idiot for bringing her here. get the fuck outta my face. cmon" rafe gestured to you, taking your hand in his and leading you to the car park.

you looked back at kate before staring at rafe in front of you, unable to fight against his grip. you had been at this party all of 20 minutes and all you had done is be dragged around before having to go home!

"rafe stop!" you exclaimed as he pulled you up the beach and towards his blue truck in the car park.

how did you not notice that?

"what the heck are you doing?" you asked, him swinging the passenger door open for you as you stared at him like he was an idiot.

"get in." he said, running lifting his arms up to run his hands through his hair as you noticed a gun tucked into his waistband.

what in the actual fuck was happening?

"what! no way! since when do you deal drugs and carry guns? i don't even know who you are anymore and there is no way i'm getting into your car with you."

he rolled his eyes at you statement, putting his ringed hands against your waist and lifting you into his car effortlessly.

you huffed as he smiled at you sarcastically before closing the passenger door and jumping into the driver's side.

he looked at you expectingly as you stared at his face, his eyes a beautiful shade of blue and his lips pink. he rolled his eyes once again before reaching over and doing up your seat belt for you, his touch making goosebumps on your cleavage as he fastened it.

you sat in silence for a second before he started driving in the direction of figure eight, his large hands gripping tightly on the wheel.

"what were you actually fucking thinking? going to a party on the cut, who knows what could have happened to you if i wasn't there" rafe spat, taking his eyes off the road momentarily to look at you before turning his head back.

"what does it matter to you rafe, i just wanted to have fun and i don't regret it. so tell topper i don't care." you huffed, sinking into your seat, not even believing the words coming out of your own mouth.

"like topper would care anyways" he stated, clenching his jaw so hard you thought it would actually break. "what?"

"toppers not the one that cares." you looked at him dumbfounded, taken aback by his statement. "what do you mean rafe?"

he ignored your statement as he kept driving into the night, the uneasy silence resting heavily in the air. you tapped your fingers against the armrest, watching the trees blur into a haze of green before tannyhill came into view.

"i thought you were taking me home?" you asked, your question again going unanswered until the car came to a halt.

"you're staying at mine, get out." he huffed, walking around the car before swinging your door open and helping you down.

"why would i stay at yours? you're my twin brother's best friend. stop being an idiot rafe" you huffed, halting your movements and staying right out the front of his door.

"you're not the one to be calling shots" rafe said, once again pulling you by the hand up to his room. before you could think he sat you down softly on his bed, kneeling down to look you in the eyes as if to see if you were high or not.

"go away, i'm not high. and you do not have the moral high ground right now"

"shut up" he sighs, resting his large hands down on your bare thighs. "what?" you gasp, ready to smack his touch away the second you could bring yourself to do it.

"do you actually not know how much you drive me crazy?" rafe asks, his stare almost burning holes in your eyes as he looked at you. "i've had my eye on you since we were 3, making sure you never came to me asking for coke or weed, because you know what i would do if anything happened to you? i would go fucking insane."

"rafe..." you sighed, bringing your hand up to his warm cheeks and he leant into your touch. "no. no, don't say anything, i don't wanna hear it-"

he was cut off by your lips touching his, your hands lifting to feel his spiky buzz cut underneath your fingertips. he immediately starting kissing you back as if before this he had never taken a breath before, and you were his oxygen.

his searing touch made its way under your shirt and up to the bottom on your bra, running his hands up and down as he pushed you back so you lay on his soft sheets.

you felt him pull at the hem of your cami, the dainty pink fabric peeling off swiftly as you were left in your bra and skirt. he looked up at you with love-drunk eyes, pupils dilated and black while he started kissing down your neck.

"wait- rafe, no. we can't. topper." you gasped as you somehow leaned even more into his touch as the words came out of your mouth. he halted his actions for a moment, pulling back so he could look at you.

"fuck topper" he spoke as he pulled his shirt off swiftly, his perfect tan skin and abs making you bite your lip. you squealed as he picked you up and brought you to the top of his bed, leaning your head softly against the pillows.

"you're so pretty, so so pretty baby" he uttered, unzipping your skirt and pulling it down your soft legs. "we don't have to do this yeah? only if you want."

you didn't think you could actually adore this man more, but he surprised you every word he spoke.

"please rafe" you whined, dragging your acrylics against his abs as you watched the goosebumps from your touch.

he let out a quiet "fuck" as he smashed his lips onto yours once more.

you reached down to the waistband of his pants feeling around before pulling back as you felt an unfamiliar metal-shaped object.

he looked down at your movements as you stopped "whoops, my bad ma." he pulled the gun out of his waistband and tucked it under the pillow you weren't resting against, going back to kissing you as you giggled.

he undid his belt swiftly, pulling down his pants and boxers until his hard member came into view. you didn't even have time to think of how massive it was as he went down to kiss you once more, pulling your panties aside and entering a finger into you.

"shit, you're so fucking tight." he sighed against your lips.

you whined in response, reaching down to his cock and pumping it in your hand. "can't wait any more rafe."

"its ok baby, i've got you"

you gasped loudly as he first entered into you, the large intrusion making you whine in both pain and pleasure.

"yeah, cmon. you can take it baby. you can take it"

his strokes were slow and powerful, filling you up until you felt as though you would snap. his groans soon filled the room as he pounded into you.

"you're so so good to me baby, can't believe we haven't done this sooner. gonna make you mine ma" he moaned, that statement bringing you over the edge as you came around him with a moan.

"thank you thank you thank you" you chanted, your acrylics surely making bright red scratches to his muscly back while you came.

"no, baby. thank you."

[fawniswriting]

Before I Could Say It

This fic can be read as a standalone or as a prequel to After I Was Too Late.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: The three times Bucky almost confessed his love to you, and the one time he finally does.

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning(s): can be read as gn!reader bcs I didn't use any gender-specific words (pls advise me if this isn't true). canon divergence. no use of Y/N. use of the nicknames sugar and sweetheart. insecure thoughts. bucky feeling like he's not good enough. unrequited love (or is it?). alcohol consumption. a bit hurt/comfort. profanities. use of weaponry, including but not limited to guns and knives. depictions of violence, blood, injuries, and murder. (near) death experience. angst. fluff. open ending.

Author's Note: Hii guys. I know I should be focusing all of my energy on Faithfully Yours right now, but I had the idea for this story and just couldn't pass it up!! We have a bit of an open ending here. I wasn't planning on making a part two but I'll see what the general consensus say and will decide whether or not a part two is due from the responses. anywayy hope you enjoy this one xx don't forget to comment, like, and reblog!!

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

When Bucky tried to think about the beginning, his mind always drew a blank.

It had been five years since the first time destiny orchestrated your paths to cross, six if one were to count the one-year cryogenic sleep that Bucky spent in Wakanda. The Soldat met you first, back when you, Steve, Sam, and Nat fought him on that highway shoot-out that revealed his identity. After that, you were everywhere—in Bucharest with Steve to coax him out of hiding, on the tarmac battle where you went against half of your own family for his sake, and even in Wakanda, where your eyes became one of the last pairs he saw before his body succumbed to the unforgiving clutches of darkness.

And when he was finally woken up, you were there, too, waiting for him.

Since then, Bucky struggled to remember a time when you weren't there. You supervised his deprogramming in Wakanda, becoming Steve's eyes and ears while the Captain roamed the world as both a fugitive and a vigilante. When the Sokovia Accords turned void, and the scientists in Wakanda assured Bucky that his mind wasn't going to betray his heart anymore, you took him back to New York, offering solace in the form of your warmth pressing against his side on the plane ride to the States. 

Even once the two of you landed on the compound's grounds, you never strayed too far—standing between Bucky and a begrudging Tony as if you were ready to launch yourself forward should the billionaire try to do anything untoward. As if the ruthless Winter Soldier needed a human shield to prevent him from shattering into fragile little pieces.

Before Bucky knew it, his entire routine—his entire life—became you.

From your morning spar sessions in the gym, the long walks around Brooklyn in the afternoon, to the weekly movie nights that you roped him into in the name of reacquainting him with pop culture—everything in Bucky’s life started to shape and smell like you. 

It was a constant. 

You were Bucky’s new constant.

And somewhere along the way, Bucky’s little troublemaker of a heart decided, once and for all, to anchor itself to yours.

True to his fashion, Steve was the first person to notice. All of the lingering touches and longing glances, the hard-etched lines of Bucky’s countenance that seemed to soften every time you were near—they spoke of an affection beyond a mere loyalty one might harbor for their teammate. It spoke of love, one that was so unadulteratedly pure and raw that Steve was sure there was no room left in the crevices of Bucky’s heart where a piece of you didn’t reside in.

“You’ve gotta say something, Buck,” Steve said to Bucky one evening.

The two of them were standing in the convention hall of a lavish hotel deep in the heart of Manhattan, surrounded by a guestlist of people that Bucky was assured were some of the most influential figures of the twenty-first century. People tried to swarm him since the moment he entered the party, shoving business cards to his face and dropping names that Bucky knew should have meant something to him. He paid none of them any mind—not when his eyes immediately found you in that sea of ties and ball gowns, just like a moth enticed to a flame.

You were all dolled up for the night, wearing a fancy little number that screams you if only with a little bit of additional sparkles sprinkled on top. Bucky watched you move through the ocean of people, confidence oozing out of every step, a blinding smile as you received each handshake with an indisputable poise. Bucky’s head whipped towards your direction at every echo of laughter, searching for the source, drinking in your infectious glee as if it were the only way to sustain the rhythmic beating of his heart.

Bucky shifted in his feet, Steve’s unprompted advice forcing him to tear his eyes away from where you were standing by Natasha’s side. The blond beside him smiled knowingly, a teasing yet sincere tilt in his voice as he added, “You’ve gotta tell at some point, pal. Better sooner rather than later.”

The line in Bucky’s jaw ticked. He brought the glass of champagne to his lips, tipping the drink back as though the liquid stood a chance against his enhanced metabolism. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Buck.”

“Punk.”

The Captain sighed, reaching for a drink of his own. “At least ask for a dance, will you?”

Before Bucky could register what was happening, Steve had shoved Bucky forward, sending him stumbling forth towards the direction of your canorous laughter. Steve hid his amused smile behind his drink when Bucky flipped him the finger, the latter continuing his steps on wobbly feet, trying to ignore the pounding travelling up his bloodstreams.

“Hey, Bucky,” you greeted as soon as he had reached you. The smile on your face could rival the sun even on its brightest day, and Bucky prayed to every divine being in the universe that he could be on the receiving end of that smile for the rest of his days.

“Barnes.” Natasha nodded. 

“Hey, guys. What’s up?” Bucky attempted a smile, tugging at the ridiculous material of his bow tie that Tony had insisted him to wear. In fact, Tony was the one who forced Bucky to attend this whole shindig in the first place—something about showing a united front to prove to the public that there was no bad blood within the Avengers’ team. 

It was a shit ton of bullshit, in Bucky’s opinion.

But at least, the party gave him a chance to see you all dressed up to the nines.

“Nothing much.” You shrugged, tilting your head slightly to the side. “Did you need something?”

“No. I mean, I do. I was, um, wondering—” Bucky cleared his throat, “—I actually wanted to see if you’d care to join me for a dance?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Natasha’s eyes widen slightly. The redhead immediately scurried to the side, feigning interest in the tower of chocolate fondue just a couple of feet away.

Bucky’s heart nearly leaped out of his chest when you extended your palm towards him. “I would love to, Buck. Lead the way.”

Your fingers emitted warmth inside his hand, and for a moment, Bucky faltered. He kept his composure enough to guide you through the sea of couples on the dancefloor, willing the erratic thumping in his chest to quieten down as he pulled you flush against his body. The scent of your perfume slithered through the air, filling Bucky’s lungs, attacking each part of his senses until everything Bucky saw, heard, smelled, and felt was you.

“You look beautiful tonight, Sugar.”

The admission tumbled from his lips before Bucky had a chance to stop them, before he could thoroughly process the implications of such candor. You didn’t seem to mind, though. Instead, your persistent smile widened ever so slightly, your eyes twinkling under the glimmering lights of the chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“Why, you look plenty dashing yourself, Bucky.” You hummed appreciatively, raking your eyes up and down Bucky’s suit-clad figure. “I must say, I was sad to see your long hair gone, but this looks great as well.”

Your fingers skimmed the hard contour of Bucky’s shoulder, leaving goosebumps on their wake, before sneaking through the short tendrils on the nape of his neck. He fought off a groan at the contact, the heavenly feeling of your fingers tugging at his hair sending shivers all throughout his body. Meanwhile, you were still smiling up at him all sweetly, completely oblivious to the rush of heat that you delivered through Bucky’s entire being.

“Sugar,” the nickname fell off Bucky’s lips in a low grunt, and for the first time that night, your composure staggered. 

Your breath hitched around a squeak when Bucky managed to tug you closer, circling his arms around your waist until there was barely room for air between both of your bodies. All around you, the world ceased to exist. The only thing that remained were your bated breaths, a raucous disruption through the electric field buzzing between where you and Bucky were pressed against one another. 

“I need to tell you something,” Bucky revealed, his voice low and sheer, stripped by unease and something akin to fear. 

Your forehead furrowed, undoubtedly sensing the trepidation shining out of the blue of Bucky’s eyes. “What’s the matter, Buck?”

Your palm landed on his stubbled cheek, and Bucky had to fight the urge to lean in, to chase more of your warmth like you were an oasis in the middle of his desert of a life. He grappled for the confession to come, for the feelings in his chest to solidify into something comprehensible. All Bucky had to do was open his mouth and seize the moment.

But just as quickly as it had arrived, the moment splintered through his fingertips.

“Good evening, everyone!”

Bucky's whole body jerked in surprise, his accusatory eyes instantly finding the MC standing on the stage at the front of the room. The music had stopped, replaced by the MC's welcoming remarks addressed towards a dozen supposedly prominent names that Bucky couldn't care less about.

“Hey, let's go find a seat,” you suggested, circling your tender fingers around Bucky's wrist before leading him through the maze of tables.

The two of you sat down just in time for Tony to deliver his opening speech as a representative of the Avengers. You glanced at Bucky in the middle of Tony's heartfelt sentiment about “shaping the future”, your hand finding Bucky's flesh one on his thigh, unaware of the kind of turmoil you have summoned from a single touch.

“You okay, Bucky?” you asked, squeezing his hand. “What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

I wanted to tell you that I love you, Bucky's heart echoed. I don't know when it started, and I don't know how, all I know is that you're every good thing that I have going on in my life.

Bucky's throat tightened.

He never ended up saying the words out loud. Instead, he smiled thinly. “It's not important, sweetheart. I'll tell you later.”

You assessed him curiously before offering him a small smile and directing your attention back towards the stage. Bucky sighed in the aftermath, feeling the wild beating of his heart settled to a normal one.

And just like that, the truth died on the tip of his tongue.

Weeks passed, and between countless briefings, missions, and reports, Bucky was forced to push all matters concerning his heart to the side. It wasn't easy, not when you occupied every facet of Bucky's otherwise monotone life. Every waking moment was a painful reminder that you were always within reach, but never close enough for him to have.

Following a successful infiltration into an illegal bio-weapon factory in the outskirts of Poland, the team had landed their jet on one of the safehouse grounds somewhere near the border of Poland and Germany. Natasha and Clint disappeared inside the house immediately upon landing, while Sam and Steve stayed on the quinjet to go over a few intels they had managed to gather from the factory.

Bucky's boots scraped softly against the grass as he crossed the distance towards the small lake just a few yards left to the safehouse. The surrounding trees rustled in the wind, a symphony of reds and oranges beneath the solemn autumn sky. On the shore of the lake, Bucky found you sitting, a rare serene look on your face as you closed your eyes to welcome the impending breeze.

“Hi, Bucky,” you greeted, eyes still shut tightly.

“How'd you know it was me, Sugar?”

“I always know when it's you.”

The moment your eyes opened, Bucky's heart stuttered in its cage. The smile you rewarded him was soft, embellished with a tenderness that a man of his repute would never deserve. He knew he should have looked away, but the selfish part of him wanted to hold your stare in place, to relish in your kindness no matter how much he believed he wasn't worthy of it.

“Come on, sit with me.”

You patted the ground next to you, and Bucky obeyed without further questions. He lowered himself on the grass, damp from the lingering chill of autumn air, and stretched his legs out. For a while, neither of you spoke, opting to enjoy the sound of water lapping lazily against the shore, a stark tranquility to the horrors you faced during the mission earlier.

The sky dimmed a tad darker as the sun ducked behind the cover of trees, leaving behind streaks of purple and gold on the horizon. Beside him, you heaved out a sigh, the remnants of sun casting your skin in an ethereal glow.

“Sometimes I wish moments like this could last forever,” you murmured.

Bucky's eyes slid towards you, studying the contours of your face like a historian would an ancient scripture. His fingers twitched, itching to feel every soft and hard edge of your features under the brush of his touch. 

You're the only thing in this world I want forever with.

The words resonated in his head and all the way down to his chest, settling like stone sinking underwater, slow and heavy. He almost said it out loud—nearly laid his heart bare for you to judge and scrutinize. But at last, he fabricated a grin and nudged his shoulder playfully to yours.

“You always get sentimental when you're tired,” he joked.

You laughed heartily at his jab, a melodic thing that wrested at every coil of Bucky's heartstrings. The two of you proceeded to watch the sunset together, the silence stretching between you, warm and comfortable. The sky burned in more explosions of hues, casting its reflection upon the lake like a dream neither of you dared to disturb. 

If Bucky were a braver man, a better man—one that wasn't weighed down by his history and remorse—maybe he would have told you. Maybe, in another life, Bucky would have charmed you at first sight, claiming you as his before the day could even end. But for now, Bucky was glad to settle for this—for sharing a quiet moment with you, and to bask in your company as though he were worthy of even a fraction of your attention.

For now, Bucky would let the four-letter word wither inside him, locked in a hidden fissure somewhere within his chest, keeping it safe from ever seeing any light of day.

Days flew by, and it was getting increasingly harder for Bucky to ignore the way his heart gravitated towards yours, to ignore the fact that you were always the first person he searched for in the morning and the last one he wanted to talk to before falling asleep. To pretend like the mere mention of your name didn't send a jolt that revived his entire being. Every single day was a battle between wish and logic—the unruly desire to make you his, and the rational reluctance of dragging you into the mess that was his life.

“This is getting ridiculous, Buck,” Steve said as he leaned back against the bar right next to Bucky, following the latter's eyesight to find you standing at the end of it. “You're just gonna avoid it forever? An eternal silent treatment? The two of you need to talk, whether you like it or not.”

Bucky inhaled a long breath, swirling the Asgardian mead in his glass without ever taking his eyes off you. It was your birthday—a joyous occasion that called for this merry yet intimate celebration with the entire team. The common room of the compound had been transformed into something warm and inviting, lit by the soft glow of string lights draped along the walls. A cake sat on the counter, half-eaten, its candles long blown out, but the remnants of your laughter from when you made your wish still lingered in the air.

From across the room, Bucky watched as Sam teased you about getting older, earning the bird-man a playful swat on his arm. Wanda handed you a small, neatly wrapped gift, and your eyes lit up in a way that made Bucky’s chest ache. He didn’t know what was in the box. He didn’t really care. All he knew was that he wanted to be the reason behind that breathtaking smile of yours.

And then, your eyes lifted.

The eye contact was fleeting. Brief. Gone by the time Bucky realized what was happening and forced his gaze away. Even then, Bucky still caught the hint of surprise as your eyes found his, replaced almost immediately by a longing that Bucky understood all too well. It clutched onto his heart, sinking its sharp nails until the life organ in his chest was bruised and brutally torn apart.

The Captain sighed. “You're being an idiot, pal.”

Bucky knew Steve was right—he was being an idiot. A coward, even. It was his own damn foolishness that had kept him avoiding you for weeks, skipping your morning spars, slipping out of any room you occupied before you could even notice his presence. All because he couldn’t handle the feelings that had taken root in his chest, the one that was growing stronger by the minute, infiltrating deeper into his system every time you so much as looked his way.

The party was still in full swing by the time Bucky decided to retire for the night, forgoing the goodbyes, heading straight to the elevator that took him back to his quarters. It was a few hours later when a clumsy knock sounded against his door, breaking through the quiet that had settled in his room.

“Sugar?”

Bucky's hand clenched around the door handle, his eyebrows knitting together at the sight of you in front of his bedroom.

“Hi, Buckyyy,” you greeted, your words slurring into uncontrollable giggles.

 Understanding dawned on Bucky's shoulders. “Sweetheart, are you drunk?”

“Am not!” You huffed, pushing past a stunned Bucky to enter the bedroom. 

You looked around for a moment, humming to yourself every time you came across a familiar token that decorated Bucky's room. There was a photo of you and him on the nightsand, a sketch of the Brooklyn Bridge courtesy of Steve hanging on the wall, and a few vinyl records stacked neatly on the shelf, gifted by various members of the team. At last, your steps halted beside the bed, and without a warning, you dove head first into the mattress, chuckling to yourself as you attempted to make snow angels with his blankets.

“This is sooo niceee,” you mused, burying youself deeper into one of Bucky's pillows. “Smells like you, Buck.”

The super soldier tried not to dwell too much on the sight of you lying on his bed, looking like you had always belonged in the same place that Bucky took his rest. A shiver ran down Bucky's spine as he closed the door behind him, his feet quiet against the carpeted floor before he took a tentative seat on the edge of the bed.

“Sugar?” Bucky took your shoulders in his grasp, turning you around until his eyes locked with yours. His heart staggered. “You wanna get back to your room? I could take you.”

His offer made you sit up in seconds, so fast that Bucky feared you might have given yourself a whiplash. He stared at you as your lips trembled, your whole body turning away from him until you were just a breadth out of his reach.

His fingers contracted in grief.

“Hey, Sugar? What's—”

“Why do you hate me?”

Silence.

Bucky's forehead creased in confusion.

“Hate you?” Bucky tasted the accusation on his tongue—the word being so foreign and farfetched from anything he could associate with you that Bucky had to wonder if he had misheard what you spoke. “Sweetheart, I don't hate you.”

“Liar.” You scoffed, scooting towards the foot of the bed, seemingly adamant to draw as much distance as possible between Bucky and yourself. “You have been avoiding me for weeks. You don't want to talk to me, or do anything with me. You hate me.”

Bucky blinked, stunned into momentary silence before shaking his head as if trying to rid himself of the sheer absurdity of your words. “That’s not true,” he murmured, his voice rough with something that sounded dangerously close to regret.

You laughed at his response—a wry, sarcastic laugh that was void of even the smallest hint of your usual warmth. “Then what other possible reason could you have for avoiding me, Bucky? Hm?” Your head turned towards him, and for the first time that night, Bucky finally saw the telltale sign of tears in your eyes, a glassy sheen that erased any remnant of the wits that Bucky had grown to know and love.

His stomach churned.

Guilt was eating at him alive. He couldn't believe that his stupidity had caused this—that he had hurt you due to his own incapability of controlling his emotions. Bucky didn't know what he was thinking when he decided that the best course of action would be to completely evade you, but he certainly didn't think that it would result in this.

With you, sitting on his bed, crying your eyes out while simultaneously breaking Bucky's heart in the process.

Bucky exhaled sharply, as if the weight of his own remorse was pressing down on his chest. He couldn't stand it—the way your shoulders quivered, the way you tried so desperately to keep your composure together as tears welled in your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he rasped, reaching for you, his fingers hesitant at first before firming in resolve. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

You stiffened at his touch, your lips parting as if to protest, but Bucky was already pulling you into his embrace, holding you tightly against the muscular panes of his chest. His hands skimmed soothingly along your back, whispers of sweet nothings falling from his lips as he rocked you in the safety of his arms.

“I don't hate you, Sugar,” he murmured, voice shattering around the edges. “I've never hated you. How could I?”

How could I hate you when you are the only source of light I have remaining in this world? How could I hate you when loving you is the only thing about my life that I am absolutely certain of?

Your breath hitched against his shoulder, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Bucky—”

“Shh,” he soothed, pressing his lips to your temple in a featherlight touch. “Just let me hold you, okay?”

Slowly, he guided the both of you down onto his bed, his arms never loosening from where they were wrapped around your body. His heartbeat thumped steadily beneath your cheek, his fingers drawing lazy patterns against your back. The tension in your body melted bit by bit with each gentle word, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into something softer—something safe.

“Don't ever do that to me again,” you warned shakily. “Promise me.”

Bucky's hold around you tightened. “I promise.”

“Good.” You sighed, exhaustion wearing down every inch of your bones. “You're my favorite person, Bucky.”

The admission pierced Bucky's chest like a lightning strike. He knew he should not have read too much into it, that the revelation was nothing more than a drunken slip of tongue that you probably would not even remember in the morning. But for now, Bucky chose to let that little detail slide, to let himself pretend that the confession had been made with more purposeful intent behind it—that the words had meant as much to you as it did to Bucky.

"Sleep, sweetheart," he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I've got you."

Since that night in his bedroom, Bucky had made a vow: he wasn't going to run anymore.

Bucky had learned his lesson. He wasn't going to let his own fears dictate his actions, nor would he allow his emotions ruin the precious friendship he had built with you over the past few years. Whatever he felt—whatever torment clawed at his chest whenever you so much as looked his way—it was his burden to bear. You didn't deserve to suffer for his cowardice, and he swore to himself that he would never let it happen again.

That thought lingered in Bucky's mind as he moved stealthily through the abandoned industrial site, gun drawn, boots scraping silently against the cracked concrete floor. The mission was straightforward: take out remaining hostiles, extract any valuable intel, and regroup. Simple. A basic in and out job that would be done just in time for dinner.

The team had split into pairs, and as fate would have it—or rather, as Steve would have it—Bucky found himself assigned to the west wing of the site alongside you. The direct channel to your comms in Bucky’s earpiece was quiet, and the super soldier took it as a good indication that your side of the mission was going smoothly. Meanwhile, he swept through his own side of hallways with methodical precision, checking every room, muttering a curt “clear” to his comms for each canvassed area. 

The air was eerie with cold and mold when Bucky entered the last remaining room in the hallway. There was nothing particularly different about this one. It was just as empty and as menacing, smelling of rat’s piss and years of abandonment, though his seasoned instinct—one sculpted from years of fighting and survival—warned him that something was amiss. His fingers tightened around his weapon almost instinctively, feeling an immediate unease venture up his spine, raising the very hair on the back of his neck.

The silence was too perfect.

Bucky’s feet skidded to a stop, turning on his heel to retrace his steps back towards the entrance.

Then, it happened.

The ambush struck like lightning on water. One second Bucky was alone, and the next, shadows had flooded the room, faceless figures in tactical gears leaping towards him at the same time. They were fast and ruthless, and even though none seemed to possess enhanced abilities, Bucky was still outnumbered. He dodged the first three attackers easily enough—disarming the blade from the first assailant’s hand, ducking out of the swinging baton of the second’s, and rolling on the floor before redirecting the third one’s bullet with the palm of his vibranium arm.

Bucky dashed out of the room into the one right across, the group of attackers still hot on his tail. He ducked behind a metal table and started opening fires at the entrance, taking out the threats before they even got the chance to enter the room. A curse fell under his breath when Bucky realized that he had worked through his rounds, scrambling to replace the ammunition as footsteps thundered into the room.

Slamming the fresh magazine in place, Bucky inhaled a gearing breath, only to be met with a sudden hush that descended through the air.

He raised his gun.

Instead of finding himself at the end of numerous gun barrels, Bucky was granted the view of bodies scattered all over the floor. The tang of iron meshed detestably with the spoor of grime, fog swirling around the edge of Bucky’s adrenaline-honed mind. When the dust finally stifled, his focus immediately zeroed in on the figure standing amidst the wreckage, rising out of the smoke like a doomsday’s salvation.

“Hi, handsome.” You smiled around a heavy exhale, a crinkle in your eye that seized the very life out of Bucky’s lungs. “Miss me?”

Bucky let out a rough breath, somewhere between relief and admiration. The grip around his weapon slackened ever so slightly, his body still thrumming with fight-and-flight, though the sight of your beautiful smile had managed to wash him with the kind of serenity that no other person could compel.

“Was wondering when you’d show up, sweetheart,” Bucky said, rising from his makeshift fortress behind the table.

“Sorry, Sarge.” You hummed, casually brushing the dust off Bucky’s shoulder as though the contact didn’t send him skyrocketing to heaven. “You know I like to keep people on their toes.”

Bucky failed to suppress his grin, nudging your shoulder as the two of you headed towards the entrance. With the hostiles neutralized, and the information uploaded to the flash drive discreetly tucked in the safety of Bucky’s inside pocket, the two of you were prepared for extraction. He redirected his comms to the main channel, alerting the other team members that the two of you were ready to wrap up and get the hell out of this dismal place.

He was barely a foot out of the door when a loud bang resonated in the air.

In a split second, Bucky sprung in retaliation, taking aim at one of the bloody assailants on the ground that had somehow taken hold of a gun, Bucky’s finger pulling at his own weapon’s trigger, assassinating him in place.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky’s heart throbbed in his throat, a silent prayer on his lips at how close of a call it had almost been. His gaze took a quick scan of the pile of bodies on the floor, making sure that none of them would pull a similar stunt, only allowing his shoulders to deflate when he saw no remaining signs of life.

“Bucky?”

Your voice barely reached him, thin despite the echoic air of this dingy site, but something inside Bucky twisted the moment he heard it.

When he turned, the initial relief that had flooded his chest instantly collapsed.

You were standing there, just a breadth out of reach with your gun still tightly clutched between your fingers. But the side of your neck—God, the side of your neck—was slick with red, thick and dark as it ran in angry runnels down your skin, staining the collar of your tactical gear, pooling on your shoulder and drenching everything it touched.

Your whole body swayed.

Bucky’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.

“No, no, no—” he rasped as he caught you, arms winding around your frame to prevent you from hitting the floor. His knees slammed onto the cold concrete below as he cradled you against his chest, the tremble in his body betraying the steel he was supposed to be made out of.

Bucky blinked, willing this moment to splinter into a dream, willing for his body to be transported back into the comfort of his bedroom where the scene playing out in front of his eyes would be nothing more than a heinous nightmare. But as Bucky’s arms tightened around your limp figure, the awful, gut-wrenching truth settled like ice in his veins. 

This was real. 

The blood seeping through your gear wasn’t imagined. The faint hitch in your breath, the loss of color from your face, the sheer terror clawing its way up his throat—none of it was a dream.

His chest crashed.

“Hey, hey. I got you, Sugar.” His voice cracked as he pressed a palm against your wound, despairingly staunching the warmth from slipping through his fingers. But no matter how hard he was grasping, the blood just kept on flowing—too fast and too much—soaking his hands and every corner of his battered soul.

“Shit. Stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” he begged. “Steve! Nat! Somebody get here now!” he barked into his earpiece, nails digging deeper into your skin. “We need a medic! We need a—fuck—just get down here!”

You made a sound, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, your breath warm against his cheek as you murmured, “I-It’s gonna… gonna be o-okay.”

It was a lie.

You both knew it.

And it destroyed him. 

“Don’t do that.” Bucky shook his head, his voice cracking around a choked sob. He forced a smile as he looked down at your pale face. “You always suck at lying.”

Your lips parted, the faintest ghost of a smile trying to make its way through, only to be interrupted by a wet cough that made Bucky’s chest cave in.

“Gotta stay with me, sweetheart. Please,” Bucky whimpered. “The team’s coming. Help is on the way. Just gotta hang in there a little more for me, yeah? Just a little longer. Please.”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure to whom he was begging—whether it was you, the universe, or any higher divine power that might have heard his wretched prayer and taken pity on him. A man who had lost everything and asked for nothing, who was now asking for someone—anyone—to save the only thing in this world that made his life worth living, even if it meant having to sacrifice his soul in exchange.

Your hand reached out tentatively, shakily, gripping the strap of his tactical jacket and giving it the faintest tug. 

“Bucky,” you whispered, voice dissipating like a wisp of smoke as soon as you had uttered his name. Your eyes, glassy and unfocused, searched for his, and when they finally found him, a weak smile curved at your lips. “I love you.”

A sound tore from his throat, raw and full of despair. His forehead dropped against yours, his entire body rupturing under the weight of your words.

“I love you.” Bucky’s voice stammered. “God, I love you—I love you, sweetheart, I love you so much.” He pressed his lips against your clammy forehead, again and again, as though he could tether you here, as though his love alone could be enough to keep you from slipping away.

He should have been happy—should have felt something else other than this hollow, scorching agony. The person of his dreams, the one he had spent sleepless nights longing for, had just made the one admission that his heart had been wanting to hear, and yet, all he could do was break. His whole being perished under the weight of everything left unsaid, every moment wasted, every regret carving him open from the inside out.

He should have told you sooner.

God, he should have just told you—should have braced past his insecurities and found the courage somehow, should have showered you with every drop of love he had neatly stowed in his heart until he was shriveled and had no else to give. He should have bought you flowers everyday, let you know that you were the most beautiful person Bucky had ever met on this goddamn planet—because you deserved it.

You deserved everything.

Not this.

Not bleeding on the filthy floor of this desolate place, fighting off death that had bludgeoned its way right through your door.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sugar. We’re getting out of here, you hear me?” His breath stuttered, his grip tightening as if he could physically gather all of your fragmented pieces and mend you as new. “I’m gonna treat you so good. You’ll see. Gonna spoil you rotten like I ought to. Just—please, just hold on—”

Your fingers twitched against his chest. Your eyes fluttered.

A quivering breath left your lips before your body went completely limp.

Bucky stilled.

“Sugar?”

Nothing.

No soft inhale. No faint murmurs of response.

No squeeze of your fingers against his jacket.

Bucky’s entire world came crashing down in the blink of an eye.

“No. No, no, no, no—”

His hand cupped your face, blood smearing from his skin to yours. Bucky’s fingers trembled as he tapped your cheek, as if the action alone could keep you here, could bring you back to him. His breathing ceased, his whole body shuddering as he rocked you in his arms, your name tumbling over and over again from his lips like a prayer, like a curse, like a plea to the universe to undo everything, to give him one more chance, to take him instead.

“Come back to me,” he whispered, his face wet with the fractured shards of his heart. “Please.”

The only thing that acknowledged him was silence.

And Bucky Barnes had never hated the quiet more.

[artficlly]

read between the lines [one-shot]

college marvel au frat!jock!bucky x cheerleader!reader tutoring bucky barnes was already distracting enough, but leaving your diary in his room? that is a whole new problem.

Warnings: fluff, so much fluff, tutoring, first kiss, college au, vague panic from reader, idk it's just kinda fun and cute :), no use of y/n, lmk if i've missed anything

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: hi this was for a request! so so cute, i wrote this so fast i didn't even think i would have it ready to post so quickly. idk anything about cheerleading or how college works in america, so forgive me. inspired by that willow song! sorry for any typos - not proof read.

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I’ve been tutoring Bucky.

Well, James, technically. But he goes by Bucky. Says it’s a childhood nickname and it just stuck, and honestly? That’s kind of adorable. Like, who clings to a nickname that hard? Even the professors call him that, which should be cringe, but somehow it’s not? It just suits him. I literally don’t think I could call him James even if I tried. ‘Bucky’ feels right. It sounds warm. Familiar. Stupidly charming.

Ugh. Anyway.

He’s in one of those frats I usually stay far away from. The kind that smells like cheap beer and Axe body spray. Always yelling, always playing music way too loud, always shirtless for no reason. I swore I’d never waste my time on a guy like that. I really thought he was gonna be a cocky, arrogant douche when I first got assigned to tutor him.

But he’s not. Like… at all?

He’s actually really nice. Like, unfairly nice. That casual kind of nice that makes you forget you’re supposed to be annoyed. He remembers stuff I say. Not the big stuff, the tiny stuff. Like how I chew my pen when I’m stressed, or how I like lemon Gatorade for cheerleading practice. And yesterday he brought me those sour gummy worms I mentioned ONE time. Just handed them over all casual like, ‘Thought you might want a little sugar after practice.’ Who does that?? Like… stop. That’s not fair.

But of course, he’s like that with everyone. That’s the worst part. He’s charming in this totally effortless way. Looks at you like you’re the most interesting person alive and then turns around and does the exact same thing to someone else. How am I supposed to know what’s real?

And GOD. He’s hot. Like, it’s actually rude. He laughs and it does something to me. Like full-on makes my brain stop working. And his ARMS?? Every time he pushes his sleeves up to his elbows I lose one year off my life. For real. It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. (I mean, he’s not, but like… what if he is???) Sometimes I forget what I’m even explaining because he’s just sitting there smiling at me with those eyes and that stupid little smirk and suddenly I’m thinking about kissing him instead of confidence intervals. It’s not okay.

He’s on the football team. Scholarship guy. Big deal. Girls are obsessed with him. I’ve literally heard people talk about him in the locker room like he’s a celebrity. And me? I’m just… I don’t know. I’m me. I cheer and I study and I try not to let my GPA fall apart and I pretend I’m not crushing on someone completely out of my league.

So no. I’m not gonna say anything.

Because maybe I did catch him looking at me the other day when I tied my hair up. Maybe he does stay a little longer when we’re done. Maybe he leans in a little closer than necessary. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe I want it too bad and I’m just reading into everything. I don’t want to be that girl. I don’t want to get hurt.

So I’m gonna do what I’m supposed to do. Help him pass stats. Smile when he brings me candy. Laugh at his dumb jokes. Pretend like my heart doesn’t skip a beat every time he says my name.

I’m just going to help him pass stats. That’s all this is. Right? God, I’m so dumb.

—

You were fucked. Well and truly screwed.

You couldn’t even focus during practice. Missed counts, off-beat claps, a completely botched dismount that nearly took you and the poor girl spotting you both out in one go. Natasha pulled you aside with that look—the one that said she was two seconds away from losing it—and muttered something about getting your shit together because the big game was in a week and this wasn’t the time to be spacing out.

But how were you supposed to focus? Your diary was missing.

Your actual, physical, spiral-bound diary filled with every unfiltered thought you’d been too scared to say out loud. The same one where you’d spent the last four pages gushing about Bucky freaking Barnes like some sad, delusional teenage cliché. You didn’t even want to think about what you wrote last night, something about his arms and the way he smiles and how you swore he looked at you differently when you tied your hair up. It was humiliating.

You never should’ve taken it out of your room. You knew it was a bad idea. But Yelena had been on one of her ‘I’m bored and nosy’ benders, and the last time you left anything out, she’d read your old poetry journal and quoted it back to you at breakfast. You weren’t about to risk that again. So, like a total idiot, you shoved your diary in your bag before heading to class, thinking you’d keep it safe with you.

The entire day had been chaos. You barely managed to scarf down lunch between lectures, and by the time your 3 p.m. class let out, you were already sprinting across campus to make it to Bucky’s place for tutoring. Not that you actually got much tutoring done. You never did, not when he looked at you with that stupid, easy grin, or leaned back in his chair like he owned the air around him. One second you were going over statistical formulas, and the next you were talking about childhood pets and favourite movies, laughing like you hadn’t just been drowning in assignments ten minutes earlier. Time always slipped away around him. You ended up bolting to cheer practice.

It wasn’t until hours later, back in your dorm with your bag dumped upside down on the floor, that you realised your diary was missing. Your diary. 

You’d spent a solid hour panicking, then a full thirty minutes rummaging through the lost and found at the campus security office, practically elbow-deep in a box of mismatched gloves and cracked phone cases. The guy behind the desk eventually looked up from his screen, where he was rather obviously playing solitaire, and told you with the energy of someone who very much did not care that maybe it hadn’t been handed in.

You wanted to scream.

Now your most personal, most mortifying thoughts were just out there. Floating around. God only knew where or with who. And sure, maybe whoever found it wouldn’t read it. Maybe they’d be a decent human being and just turn it in without flipping through. But let’s be honest, if you found a diary with someone’s deepest secrets in it, you’d probably peek too.

You were going to be sick. Actually sick. And not because Natasha had you running suicides again like she was training you for the NFL, but because your life might genuinely be over. Because if he found it? What if you left it in his room? What if Bucky read even one word of what you wrote?

You didn’t even want to finish that thought.

No, you literally couldn’t even finish that thought because, as Natasha finally called for the end of the session and the team began their warm-down stretches, swapping tired smiles and gulping down water, you saw him.

Bucky.

Standing at the edge of the field in that stupid grey hoodie, sleeves pushed up, all smug and handsome like he hadn’t just shown up to ruin your entire existence. He had that lazy, charming smile on his face, the one that made people trust him too fast, the one that made you trust him too fast, and in his hand?

Glittery blue cover. Spiral binding. Your diary.

You were going to throw up. No, genuinely, you could feel your stomach lurch. This was it. This was how you died. Not in a blaze of glory or during a botched basket toss, but here, sweaty, humiliated, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown in the middle of the goddamn football field.

You didn’t even think. You just stormed over before anyone else could notice, grabbing his arm and dragging him behind the bleachers like it was a crime scene. Which it kind of was. A crime against your dignity.

Bucky didn’t protest. He followed easily, letting you pull him along like it was some sort of game. Of course he did. And of course, he was smiling the whole time, like you hadn’t just gone into cardiac arrest ten feet away.

Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely speak. It rattled in your chest like a warning, like it knew this moment was about to go down in your personal hall of shame.

“Where…how…why do you have that?” you hissed, snatching at the diary, but he held it just out of reach, still annoyingly calm.

He raised a brow, like you’d just asked him what two plus two was. “You left it at my place. After tutoring. You were in a rush, remember?”

No. No, no, no, no, no. Of course, it had been his place. Of course.

“I—I didn’t mean to, I wasn’t thinking, I just—” You were spiralling, words tumbling out too fast, too breathless, and your fingers were twitching like you might just snatch the book and sprint across campus. “Did you…Did you read it?”

A beat. He didn’t answer right away. Just looked at you.

And then, God, he smiled. Not the cocky one, not the football-star grin. This one was softer. Slower. Dangerous.

Your stomach dropped.

“I read enough,” he said.

You froze.

Your ears rang. Your mouth went dry. Your body just stopped.

“Enough?” you echoed, voice cracking halfway through. “Enough of what? Enough to—oh my God.”

You turned away instinctively, hand over your mouth like that could somehow keep your soul from escaping your body. Because what did that mean? What was ‘enough?’ Enough to ruin your life? Enough to laugh about it with his frat brothers? Enough to tell every girl on campus that the cheerleader who couldn’t even stick a full-out had a crush on him?

You didn’t even realise you were pacing until Bucky gently caught your wrist.

“Hey. Relax,” he said, and his voice was way too steady for someone holding the social equivalent of a loaded weapon.

You yanked your arm back like his touch burned. “Relax? Bucky, that was private. It’s literally a diary! It’s not for reading, it's for… spiralling in silence!”

He tilted his head a little, watching you carefully, and if he was offended by your panic, he didn’t show it. “You left it on my bed. Open.”

You groaned and covered your face with both hands. “Please. Just kill me. Right here. Hide the body under the bleachers. I’m serious.”

Bucky chuckled—chuckled, like this was some kind of joke—and stepped closer. You could feel his presence even before you lowered your hands again. 

“Why didn’t you just say something?” he asked, quiet now. “If you felt that way.”

Your eyes snapped to his. “Because I didn’t know if it meant anything! You’re nice to everyone. You flirt like it’s a reflex. You remember everyone’s drink orders, compliment their outfits, hold doors and say all the right things. I thought I was just another person you were… nice to.”

He didn’t answer your panicked rambling right away. Just looked at you for a long moment.

“Yeah, I’m nice to people. Doesn’t mean I feel the same way I feel about you.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“What?” you whispered, hating how small your voice sounded.

He held your gaze, completely serious now.

“Like I wanna kiss you every time you chew that damn pen cap. Like, I think about you even when I’m supposed to be studying. Like I can’t focus when you’re talking ‘cause all I do is stare at your damn lips.” He paused, and something almost like a laugh broke out of him, soft and self-conscious. “Like I’ve been trying to find a not-creepy way to tell you I like you since the second tutoring started, but you were always so focused and cool and out of my league.”

That last part made your head spin.

“Out of your league?” you repeated, eyes wide.

He smirked, stepping just a bit closer, lowering his voice. “Have you seen yourself? You’re smart, you’re so pretty it’s ridiculous, and you’ve got this whole thing where you act like you don’t know you’re the coolest girl on campus. Of course, I was nervous.”

You blinked at him. “Bucky… are you flirting with me behind the bleachers while holding my diary hostage?”

He grinned. “Maybe. Depends. Is it working?”

You tried to snatch the diary out of his hand, but he was faster, effortlessly holding it just out of reach like it weighed nothing.

“God, I hate you,” you muttered through gritted teeth, bouncing up on your toes in a desperate attempt to grab it. All it earned you was the embarrassing realisation that you were now fully pressed against his chest, warm, broad, and stupidly solid.

“You really don’t, at least not according to this—” he said, low and smug.

“Bucky!” you warned, trying to reach again, but he shifted it higher.

“Give. It. Back,” you hissed, practically climbing him at this point.

“I will,” he said, eyes flicking down to your mouth in a way that made your stomach twist and your breath catch. “But only if you let me kiss you first.”

Your brain short-circuited. Completely and entirely. The words took a second to process. His voice had dropped, softer now, more serious, like he wasn’t just messing with you anymore.

You looked up at him, heart thudding so loudly against your ribs you swore he could hear it. His eyes searched yours, and for once, he didn’t look like the effortlessly confident guy everyone knew. He looked… nervous like he was the one waiting to be rejected.

“…Fine,” you whispered, the word barely making it past your lips, but your smile gave you away. It was impossible to hide, giddy and crooked and ridiculous.

And then he kissed you.

He bent his head and closed the gap like he’d been waiting weeks for it—maybe he had. His mouth was warm and sure against yours, one arm still holding the diary hostage, the other dropping to your waist, pulling you in like he couldn’t help himself. You kissed him back without thinking, without doubting, like maybe this was the answer you’d been afraid to ask for all along.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and blinking at each other like idiots, he handed over the diary with a grin.

“Okay,” you whispered, still a little breathless. “That was… good.”

“Just good?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, cheeks burning. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed softly, thumb still brushing your cheek. “So… does this mean I get to keep seeing you after stats is over? Or do I have to fail on purpose to keep you around?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You’re right. You’d probably kill me.”

“More like definitely.”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that didn’t feel awkward. He looked at you like he already knew what you were thinking. And for once, you didn’t feel like running from it.

You were so, so screwed.

But maybe… in the best way possible.

[dameronology]

matt murdock headcanons

i have about 4000 words to write for my thesis so instead i am writing these. enjoy xx

matt takes his coffee black. nothing else added, literally just black. anything else overwhelms his senses. for the first six months of your relationship, you kept accidentally leaving little coffee grounds floating in the bottom that made him want to die, but he loves you so he did not say anything.

actually, matt is the king of "i love you so i won't say anything." if you burn dinner or wear that one scratchy jumper that overwhelms him or flood the bathroom so it's a gosh darn slip and slide, he won't say anything. why would he? he loves you as you are.

matt doesn't need you to guide him in public but he will hold your arm or hand just because he wants too. he especially likes when your hands are loosely intertwined and he can feel your pulse against his skin. it's calming for him.

sometimes he forgets that you weren't always in his life. he'll tell a story from college as though you were because it just doesn't feel right to have lived a life where you weren't in it.

matt rarely calls you by your name. it's always sweetheart, and sometimes baby.

although one time foggy heard him call you the latter and then called matt baby girl and babycakes for a week until karen threatened to beat them both up

on the subject of foggy & karen -- they both love you!! they'd always been protective of their little trio but you fit in perfectly.

those two quickly become your best friends.

josie's for drinks after work on a friday is standard. matt will always have an arm looped around your waist, or a hand on your thigh, or just any form of physical contact really. mostly because he's over protective.

matt doesn't get hungover and it's really fucking annoying. you've seen him pound back pint after pint, just to wake up feeling fresh as a daisy the next day.

the good news?? he's vision impaired so he won't open the curtains when you're hanging out your absolute arse !!

he's the best at looking after you when you're hanging, though. he'll make you a smoothy and a greasy breakfast.

actually, matt is just the best in the mornings anyways. you'll always have a cup of coffee made before you're awake, with breakfast on the counter.

living with matt is domestic bliss tbh

that's not to say you don't argue -- you're both human and in his line of work, both day job and night job, it comes with its bad days and times when he keeps shit bottled up

so you prod and you poke until he explodes and finally, you argue and it's cathartic as hell

matty is very overprotective too, which has lead to tension

it was a little over the top at first, but you settle for having life 360 on both your phones and letting him know when you arrive places safely

even when you have really bad arguments, you always find your back to each other

one time you joked "i'll send you a text if wilson fisk murders me" and he didn't find it funny

actually he almost cried

the be all and end all though is that against the back drop of new york city, and even though you're in the arse, you are everything that's pure in matt's world.

[solardrop]

silver.

aaron hotchner x reader.

summary: hotch really doesn't think getting old is sexy. tags: fluff. a suggestive line here or there but nothing crazy. age gap (reader in their 30s, hotch is 57). jack mentioned. i think this could be read as gn!reader but i could be wrong. just short and cute. word count: 1.0k a/n: last fics rules still apply. be nice to me! when i look up photos of hair dying on pinterest i get rainbow haired e-boys so accept this haircut photo <3 divider creds to @/cafekitsune

Your name echoes across the house when Aaron yells for you from the bathroom. Once you enter the space you're greeted by his hair spiked in every which way, covered in a brownish-black goop. His thick hands are gloved and hold a small black toothbrush-like applicator.

"Sweetheart, can you check if I missed a spot?" Aaron hands you the brush and tray of inky black dye. You make a show of rolling your eyes and pouting back at him in the mirror and you take the items from him.

"I forgot it was that time of month that you decided to cover up all your sexy.." you sigh.

"Really," he scoffs, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, "I thought all the sexy was gone when I shaved.'

You almost teared up remembering the loss of his beard. A case off the grid forced him to grow one out for a few weeks. You understandably jumped his bones upon seeing the new look when he returned. The extra hair provided some out-of-this-world sensations for your softest parts that you would never forget. Only for the wicked man to shave all of it after two days, citing the "professional dress code" of the FBI as the culprit.

You snap a latex glove onto your hand, "Shush and bend over, big guy."

He smiles and kneels to face you, his rough hands gripping the fat of your thighs. You slowly worked around his head, dabbing bits of dye in bare spots. Your fingers rake through the inky black mass on his head, gently massaging his scalp. Aaron hums and thanks you under his breath.

"Do you know why I started dying my hair so consistently?"

"To torture me?"

"No," he huffs," when Jack was about... eight? I had taken him on this trip with a couple of his friends and their fathers, it was fun, but at the end of the whole thing Jack pointed at the grays starting to grow out on my hairline and turned to his friends and said-"

"Baby no...."

"'Guys look! My daddy is sooo old!'"

You clamp your lips shut to hold in your laughter. You didn't want to embarrass him further, especially with the deep red flush rising up the nape of his neck.

"Oh honey Jack was still a baby then... kids are insane you know that"

" I do, and I know. I laughed it off. I know he didn't really mean anything by it, but I didn't know if he felt like the odd one out for having an old dad.." Aaron runs his hands up and down your legs mindlessly. "And now I don't want you to feel out of place either."

You pause at that. In the few years you and Hotch have been together, never has he shown any insecurity about the difference in age between you. And he sure as hell wasn't about to start now if you had anything to do with it. You slicked his hair back with your hands and placed the clear complimentary shower cap in the box on his head, snickering at how silly he looked. Once you slide the slimy gloves off you set the timer on your phone and grasp the face of the man you loved so dearly, forcing him to rest his chin on your stomach and look into your eyes.

"You have less than thirty minutes to explain to me why you think I'd care about you looking old"

"you're young-"

"I'm in my thirties-"

"you're younger," he corrects "than me by quite a bit. All your friends have other young people to share their life and first experiences with. Meanwhile, you're stuck with a sixty-year-old-"

"You're fifty-seven-" Your eyes roll.

"a fifty-seven-year-old with a sassy kid turned angsty teenager for a child." he sighs, "Sweetheart I just don't want you to ever look at me and feel a loss."

You take a moment to scan his face. Despite the stupid shower cap mushrooming around his head, his face showed no amusement when he spoke. The sweet, shy smile he always sported around you was gone, replaced with a grimace and furrowed brow.

"Aaron I have never felt more loved, accepted, and safe than I have with you. I know you know that," you say.

He nods, pressing a quick peck to your belly button before looking at you. His eyes search yours for a moment of hesitation or change in resolve. but you stand your ground.

"The only thing I worry about with you on my arm is fighting off all the homewreckers."

He wheezes a laugh at this. Eventually having to stand up before he smears the dark dye all over you. He always does this. Laughs and acts like he wouldn't have crowds of people stop to fawn over his beauty if he let them.

"Remember that neighbor at the old apartment who would only stop by with cookies when she knew you were home?"

"Or the time Jack's classmate profiled their teacher's crush on you?"

"Don't even get me started on that detective JJ keeps telling me about from years ago in New Mexico. The male detective."

He smiles at you sheepishly, "You've made your point."

"If you want to dye your hair or shave to make yourself happy I think you should," you whisper, "but Aar I love every version of you possible"

You press your lips to his cheek before you continue, "You are the most beautiful, devastatingly sexy old man out. And I will still throw myself at you in public if you decide to finally ditch the box dye."

He smiles at you fully now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. He slides his lips against yours, grinning into the kiss before he pulls away to thank you.

"Maybe after this starts to grow out I'll see how I feel about the silver again." He looks back at his reflection in the mirror. He turns his head every which way to peek at the processing strands under the shower cap.

"Think about the beard too damn it.." you mumble. You begin to wander out of the bathroom when he yells for you again.

"Oh and sweetheart one more thing," you turn to look at him, confused when he stifles a laugh, "will you still think I'm sexy if I start balding like my father?"

[bananami]

The One Where Bakugo is Different With You (and your friends kinda called it but are too dumb to fully connect the dots) katsuki x fem!reader

No one understands what it is you did to make him like you. You insist that you didn't do anything. They don't believe you.

Bakugo isn't nice to anyone. He tolerates people. Sometimes. In fact, it's not like he's even nice to you. But he is different. And everyone has noticed.

"That's her seat, get up." He snaps at Mineta as the boy sits down next to him.

"What, she has to sit next to you?"

"Get. Up."

Mineta doesn't hesitate.

You've known him as long as the rest of them, but for some reason he seems softer toward you. Kirishima is the first to bring it up to him.

"Do you like her or something?"

"She's my friend, of course I like her."

"Denki is your friend, you don't like him."

"Hey!" Denki yells from the other side of the couch.

Bakugo just grits his teeth and doesn't respond.

Even when riffing with him, he takes what you say differently than he does with everyone else.

"What if I just cracked this egg over your head?"

He looks down at you. "I'd be impressed that you could reach."

"That hot head would probably fry it." Sero laughs at his own joke.

Sparks began to form from the explosion hero's good hand. "I will blast you out of this building!"

And forget about anyone else asking him for anything. He doesn't really do favors, not unless he's hounded to do them. But for you?

"I'm hungry."

Bakugo stands from the couch and holds out his hand to pull you up with him. "Let's go try the new sushi place down the block."

Or

"I have an interview with the talkshow next week but they want me there at like six in the morning."

He doesn't even look up from his phone, where he's opening his calendar to schedule himself off of work that day. "I'll stay by your place and drive you in the morning."

OR

A bag falls into your lap and the blonde plops down next to you. "They were on sale."

You open the bag to find your favorite candies, letting out an excited squeal. "They've been out the last two weeks."

"I told the guy to call me when he got a box in."

Denki tries to reach his hand out for a box but it's slapped away by the larger blonde. "Touch it or her and I will personally cut off that hand."

And then there's Kirishima's personal favorite interactions to watch. Something Bakugo has done since living in the dorms at UA, through your roommate years where all of you split an apartment to save up money.

Bakugo would get up to leave the room and stop in the doorway, staring directly at you. "Are you coming?"

"Where are we going?"

"Check your phone."

You would look down at your phone and laugh every time. "Are you embarrassed to say it in front of everyone?"

"Shut the fuck up and get over here!"

Everyone could read between the lines, and his blush on his cheeks.

But you'd never officially dated. Anytime any of the friend group would ask about it, you'd both deny it and change the subject. Kirishima and Mina would narrow their eyes in suspicion at you and one another.

"You just treat her different than everyone else." Kiri would point out.

"Friends don't look at each other the way you two do, especially not Bakugo." Mina would accuse.

The answers were always the same.

"Mind your own shitty business." Bakugo would snap.

"You all just look too much into things. He can be nice at times." You would always insist.

It would take all the way up until a random work party Bakugo's agency was holding for the truth to come out. For Denki to walk in on the two of you in the bathroom-

"Practically devouring each other! It was disgusting!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes. His arms rested around the back of the couch with you tucked close into his side. "See this is why we kept it a secret for so many years, you're all being so dramatic about it."

"Years?!" Mina screamed. "How many years has this been a thing?"

You tried to avoid all eye contact with her.

"Since high school." Bakugo replied with ease.

"Since high school?!" Your friends gaped.

"When we were all living in the dorms?" Denki asked.

"Used to meet up on the old training grounds to make out."

"The apartment we all shared?" Kirishima narrowed his eyes.

"Snuck into each other's rooms like every single night, can't believe you guys never caught us then."

"When we all were interning at the same agencies?" Sero threw out there.

"Bribed the scheduling team to put the two of us on the same routes."

"Ok wait, but you guys told us you weren't and you used to talk about the different people you would go on dates with right in front of each other- oh my fucking god." Mina facepalmed.

Bakugo laughed maniacally as you tried to hold yours in.

"So you were talking about each other? Every single time?"

"Every. Single. Time."

Mina sighed. "This is actually insane, I can't believe you never said anything."

"I mean it's not like we should be that surprised, besides," Kirishima chimed in, "it's not like they're secretly engaged to be married or anything, right?"

Silence.

"Right?" Kirishima's smile falters a bit. "Please tell me you two aren't engaged."

Bakugo blinks a few times before responding. "Ok, we're not engaged."

"Bakugo!"

"Did you think I was just really nice to her all the time for no reason?"

[crssvjb]

Secrets Revealed - Charles Leclerc

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Sumarry: After a painful breakup, you discover you are pregnant, but keep the secret out of fear and hurt.

The morning started like any other: a ray of sunlight streaming through the window, the distant sound of traffic and the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. But the pregnancy test in her hands changed everything.

Two lines.

You felt your heart race. It wasn't possible. He read the leaflet again, checked the test three more times, but the result did not change. You were pregnant with Charles.

She sat on the bathroom floor, her back against the cold wall. His mind went back to the last moment they had together, weeks ago.

—"You think you're always right!" — You shouted, your voice cracking under the weight of emotions.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, irritated. — "And you think everything has to be your way! I can't deal with this right now."

— "Can't handle this? Maybe you can't handle me, Charles."

The silence that followed was the most painful you had ever experienced. He looked away, hesitating. When he spoke again, his voice was a little cold:

— "Maybe we were never right for each other."

You swallowed hard, the words burning like acid. Without saying anything else, he picked up his things and left, leaving behind not only his home, but also everything they had built together.

The sound of your cell phone vibrating brought you back to the present. You looked at the screen and saw messages from friends. There was a party that night and everyone was excited to go together.

But how could you face Charles now? He would probably be there. And you... you didn't know if you would have the courage to face him with the secret you carried.

The party was in full swing when Charles arrived. Dressed casually, he greeted his friends but seemed a little distracted. Since the breakup, he had tried to convince himself that the separation was better for both of them, but a part of him knew that he had messed up.

- "Hey, Charles." — Pierre caught his attention, holding out a drink. — "How are things with Y/N?"

Charles frowned, uncomfortable with the message of his name. — "I think this is over, Pierre."

Pierre looked a little surprised. — "It's over? But... what about the baby?"

The glass in Charles' hand almost fell. — "What baby?"

Pierre widened his eyes, clearly realizing his mistake. — "Ah, shit... I thought you knew. Sorry, Charles. I wasn't supposed to... forget it."

Charles didn't wait for explanations. Dropping his drink on the first surface he found, he hurriedly left the party, ignoring Pierre's calls.

— "Pierre, you big mouth." — Kika said, slapping her boyfriend's arm.

The knock on the door was unexpected. You opened it and saw Charles panting, his eyes shining with a mix of surprise and nervousness.

— "Why didn't you tell me?" — He asked, almost whispering.

— "Charles, I..."

— "You're pregnant, aren't you?" — He interrupted, his eyes searching yours urgently.

You hesitated, but you knew you couldn't deny it. - "I am."

Charles took a deep breath, clearly trying to process. — "Why didn't you tell me? I had a right to know."

— "And I had the right to be afraid." — You replied with a trembling voice. — "After what you said, how could I trust you again? How could I believe you would stay by my side?"

He looked devastated. — "I was an idiot. I got angry and said things I shouldn't have. But I never wanted to hurt you. And now... now I know that I only made everything worse."

You looked away, tears streaming down your face. — "I don't know if I can forgive so quickly, Charles. I'm hurt and I need time."

He took a step forward, hesitant but determined. — "I understand. And I'll wait as long as it takes. But know that I'm here. For you. For the baby. For us."

His words were sincere, but you knew it wouldn't be easy. The road to rebuilding trust was long. But maybe there was a chance for you. Over time.

⎊𝙘𝙧𝙨𝙨𝙫𝙟𝙗 - ²⁰²⁵

[moon-fics]

I'm just spitballing here, but what about bob floyd × naval admin reader where she sees him shirtless for the first time and like a friend kickback on the beach and is just absolutely gobsmacked because she knew he was fit but not ripped to heck 😭 and bob is just so nonchalant about it 😂

Please keep spitballing bc I love this. Sorry, it took so long!

After beating all the odds, the mission was a success. You only had a minor heart attack watching Rooster and Maverick get shot down. You definitely didn't need to lock yourself inside a bathroom for a few hours after everyone returned home to ground yourself. Everything that could have taken your friends did not.

Which is why you're celebrating at Penny's house. You're only a few days away from being sent to another base, and yet, you're happy. You get to stand in a beautiful backyard while hot dogs are being grilled. You're surrounded by people you love and get to keep for one more mission.

Now, if only the sun would set so you don't have to sweat through your shirt. It doesn't help that you forgot to wear a swimsuit for her pool. You're stuck watching Rooster, Hangman, and Fanboy mess around in the water.

"Hey," Bob's voice snaps you out of your mind. You glance to your left to see him holding two plates with hot dogs on them. "Penny said you haven't eaten yet." He holds out one of the plates.

You turn your head past Bob to see Penny staring right at you. She gives you a wink and returns to talking to Maverick over the grill. You should have assumed she'd do something like this. Ever since you drunkenly admitted to having a crush on Bob she's made it her mission to get you with him.

"Thank you," You sigh. You take the plate, but you don't eat from it. You're afraid that if you take a bite, the heat from the hot dog will worsen your sweating. You take a second to admire Bob, who is wearing a T-shirt that is drenched in sweat. "You're allowed to take that off." You gesture at his shirt.

He's taking a bite of the hot dog when you speak. His eyes snap to you immediately, and he awkwardly chews to talk. It takes a couple of long seconds before he swallows.

"I didn't really think about it," He admits while flashing a nervous grin. Your eyes trace the lines from his smile automatically. You're trying to ingrain every part of him before you're left to fate, for when you see him again. You don't want to forget a single detail about him. "I didn't put any sunblock on," He chuckles.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," You shrug. You can feel the sun kissing your skin and tanning it, but you don't feel burning yet. Besides, Penny should have sun lotion somewhere in her house if he really needs it. "I mean, you just came back from a mission that Maverick deemed almost impossible. I think a few sun burns will be alright."

"Yeah, I can't argue against that," He nods. "Hold my plate?" He asks, and you take it from him. You watch as he takes off his shirt and rolls it into a ball. It takes a moment for you to look down because his arms are enough to keep you occupied. When you finally change your focus to his chest you clench your jaw to stop it from falling.

You can see every muscle on his torso, and the sweat only defines them more. He's tan from the sun already, which adds to the appeal. Forget Hangman and Rooster. Bob has a body that you could not imagine holding his head up.

"You look like this regularly?" You ask without realizing it. The question slides down from your brain and past your lips before you can stop it. The only thing stopping you from diving into Penny's pool is his laugh.

"Yeah, I mean, everyone else looks the same," He brushes it off.

"Well, yeah, but I just wasn't expecting you to be this fit." You cannot stop talking. It's like your brain is just letting anything out. "That came out wrong. I knew you were strong, I just never imagined you shirtless," You clarify.

"That insinuates you've imagined everyone else shirtless," He points out. He ducks his head down as another laugh comes out. You're thankful he's finding this humorous instead of insulting or creepy. You could handle looking like a fool. "I just don't see a need to show off," He says and takes his plate back from you.

"You're depriving the world," You joke. "I'm serious. If I looked like you, I'd be shirtless regularly."

"I'm glad you think that. Next time I'm shirtless, I'll let you know," He shakes his head while holding back a chuckle.

"Put me on speed dial," You nudge him.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Since Dream BBQ released I got an idea. Can you do Meanie!ENA x Shy!Fem! Reader where reader is from the human world and works as ENA's salespartner. You can also add teasing/limes if you'd like.

Yay! First Ena request since 2021 (I think lol)

I'll leave out the last part so this is completely sfw

....................

"You know, I'm still impressed that you could understand all these people. Are language barriers just...nonexistent here?"

"Barriers? What a silly prospect, dearest." Ena chuckled as she looked at the list of jobs you were both assigned to carry out. "Let's proceed onwards. Everything we do will bring us one step closer to--turning off that goddamn smoke and giving the Boss a piece of my mind!!"

"Wah!" You jumped back in fright as her "meanie" side started yelling out of the blue, crushing the paper in her grasp.

Having known her for so long, you should be used to this being a daily occurrence...yet somehow she never fails to startle you.

"Did you forget the mission?! This isn't a date!! Put those squishy eyes to work and start looking for that last pet...or baby..or..or whatever!!"

"...y-yes ma'am." Sighing, you tried to shake off your nerves and search for the final trail of blood, not wanting to get her any angrier.

You weren't sure how you winded up together, or how you even got thrown into this strange world in the first place, but Ena was the first to find you. She dragged you into her "business", where you also met Froggy and learned more about what they did.

While you didn't fully understand everything, you knew this much: you've been going around doing favors for people who, for some reason, despised Ena's species. Even if you didn't know what they were saying, their general attitude towards her implies that she did something really, really terrible...or they could be mistaking another Ena's actions for hers.

But you didn't know anything about her past, nor what her kind might've did except exist, though it was through your intervention alone that helped most clients to calm down.

Sometimes, it was difficult for you to speak up given your shy demeanor, which hasn't quite left your personality even now. Although with time it got easier, and Ena helped you come out of that shell more and more.

Of course, you made sure clients fully paid you both for your services--but instead of using cash like you expected, the popular currency here was apparently "chocolates". They were edible, although Ena advised you to hold onto them.

So this was pretty much your new life, and somewhere down the line she became your girlfriend. Her "Salesperson" side loved you dearly and made sure you didn't put yourself in any danger, often speaking on your behalf.

The only problem was getting along with her Meanie side to where her outbursts didn't scare you anymore, and perhaps...you could uncover that bit of softness hiding behind her rough exterior.

That became your mission, and you hoped to make at least a little bit of progress if you're going through all of this trouble to find the Genies and convince them to clear the smoke.

After finding the last pet and bringing it back to Shoryo, you received a handful of chocolates. It was then you realized you've lost track of Ena and searched around the land, eventually finding her near the bridge.

A ratlike person was seemingly guarding it, hoarding different things and looking very alarmed at her presence.

He began yelling in Italian, stomping around and flailing his arms about until suddenly--

He collapsed, fainting much like a goat would when startled. But he stopped moving entirely, and Ena just stared down at him.

"What the hell? I was gone for five minutes!" Mortified, you rushed over and kneeled down. "Sir, can you hear me? Are you-?"

"Don't even tell me you were gonna say "alright". What does it look like?!"

"We have to help him, Ena." Looking up, you saw Meanie's expression remain unchanged, and you sighed. "Please. I know the lost witch probably went over this bridge, but..it feels wrong to cross without his permission."

"....."

"Pretty please?"

"....ugh fine. Let me at him." With a huff, she urged you to move aside while she somehow magically revived the hoarder, who seldom thanked you both and apologized for his outburst.

The stresses of his work were creeping up on him, and apparently he was growing paranoid of the purple villager who stood on a nearby decrepit building, convinced they were scheming to take his "property".

So he tasked--or demanded, rather--that you covered their eyes with something.

Eventually, your aimless wandering led you to a small green alien who was trapped within a bubblegum vending machine with three legs. They were eager to sell you products, but after recognizing Ena, they seemed frightened and insisted they couldn't sell anything to her.

"Okay, now you're being ridiculous." You frowned. "You have something we want, and we're trying to-"

"Guys, guys! Wait!!"

Turning to your girlfriend, you could see Meanie's eyes growing wide--as though she was terrified of something. Her head was spinning, her limbs discombobulating.

It was unlike anything you've seen before. "Ena..?"

"I'M NOT DOING WHAT YOU SAY I'M DOING!!" She yelled out. "I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING!! I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING AT ALL-!"

"Ena! Hey. Hey."

Feeling hands on her shoulders, she suddenly looked at you. Her eyes were still wide, but she had seemingly returned to reality as she calmed down. "[Y/n]?"

"Yeah, it's me." You reassured, moving to take her shaking hands into yours. "You're alright. I believe you."

"........"

Somehow, the vending machine alien was moved by your words, and allowed her to buy one thing and one thing only: mayonnaise that was apparently good for the eyes, but you both knew what to do with it.

Before setting off to complete the hoarder's request, you wandered around a bit to see if anybody else needed help.

But you kept thinking back to Ena's apparent panic attack and stopped for a moment, clearing your throat. "So...um-"

"You heard nothing."

"....did you even know what I was gonna-?"

"Don't back-sass me, sweetheart!" She spun around to face you angrily, fists shaking. "You wanna walk the road alone?!"

"No." You put your hands up in defense. "I'd....much rather walk it with you. Wherever it might lead us, I hope we can face it together."

Meanie blinked, surprised by your words. They sounded so sweet, so endearing...and it made a slight blush rise to that specific side of her face. "Ugh....y-you're lucky you're cute." She grumbled, handing you the paper. "Let's just go find that bug-eyed moron and be done with this."

"Alright." Nodding, you led the way, although occasionally you'd glance back at your girlfriend to see her geometric claws trying to cover up the blush--to no avail. You smiled sweetly, and she just stared at you, the burning sensation getting worse. "You know, you're not too bad, Meanie."

"What did you do to me? Why does my face feel like it's on fire??"

"It's called "being bashful", honey. Humans feel that sometimes, especially around the person they love." You winked.

She just mumbled something unintelligible, her hat hiding her eyes from you, but you both kept continuing forward.

'Huh, there's a way to crack through that exterior after all..'

[bbokicidal]

"Are you serious...?" - Angst! [Hyung Line SKZ]

Notes : These are all obviously fictional situations, the red flags are just based off of habits we know they have (like Chan's need to be needed, Changbin being blunt/honest.) This post isn't me saying I think they have these red flags, it's just a fun angsty prompt I wrote down. If you don't like it, scroll and don't read.

If people like this - a maknae line will be written! If not, prolly not lol.

Warnings : Angst with no comfort, red flag behavior - some of these aren't even that bad or could be misunderstandings but still.

Maknae Line | "Good Luck, Babe." Part Two!! Here!

BangChan - Brushing off/Having the wrong priorities

One time, it was him forgetting a dinner date - the next, he was staying at the studio late when he was supposed to be meeting your parents for the first time. You let it slide because ultimately you understood that his job took up a lot of his time, and honestly? It wasn't easy to forget about but he had a tendency to take care of you and make up with it by quick gestures before he left the apartment or when he came home; Soft back hugs, quick cuddles before he fell asleep, or kisses in passing. Lately, however, he's been slacking. He'd begun to shrug you off any time you'd touched his arm or hand, nudging you away while he typed on his laptop. He'd tip his head away from yours while laying in bed together or he'd sit further away on the dressing room sofa.

The tipping point was when he was getting ready to go on stage and was standing in wait for the others to be ready. There was still five minutes and Chris looked a bit jittery, so you figured a quick hug or kiss would help ease his nerves. However as soon as you approach and reach to touch his arms, he steps back and keeps his eyes trained on his phone. You reach again, hesitant, and his brow furrows as he maneuvers to the side to get away. "Don't touch me."

Your lips pop apart in surprise. "...Are you serious?"

He looks over, eyes briefly wandering your face before he reaches to fix his in-ear and walks away to the door, disappearing around the corner and leaving you standing there alone. Even the soft touch of Felix's hand on your back as he passed by was warmer than anything you'd felt from Chris in the last two months.

Lee Know - Keeping secrets / Prioritizing Privacy within himself

Minho had a very, very bad habit of not telling you things. In this instance; That he was leaving for tour in two days.

A world. fucking. tour. The only reason you didn't know about it was because you hadn't been out of your home in the last few weeks unless it was for a quick coffee at the cafe or to grab lunch with a friend. Work was heavy during this time of year and as someone who worked remotely, you often spent grueling hours in your office on your computer - hunched, tired, head pounding and back sore.

So you would think that when you entered your bedroom one evening after just finishing up sorting files in your office, you'd be happy to see your boyfriend already there. And you were for a moment, until you realized he was packing three rather large suitcases full of his clothes and necessities. He looks to you, then away, wordless.

"Are.. you.. moving out, or something?" You breathe in a laugh, eyes wandering over Minho as he folds a t-shirt and tucks it into his suitcase with the others.

"No. I have to bring all of my luggage to the company building tomorrow so they can have it at the airport when we leave for Australia."

"Australia?" Your brows quirk. "When -- Why --"

"Tour." He stops his movements to stare over at you, a hint of irritation evident on his face. "We're going on tour for six months."

"Six--" You breathe out, eyes widening. "Six months. And you didn't think to tell me?"

Minho moves to drop a pair of pants in his suitcase. "I would've told you if you could handle the news, maybe. Every time I mention leaving all you do is whine and pout about how long I'll be gone."

"I get upset, yes, what girlfriend wouldn't be upset that her boyfriend is leaving for a week or two? But six months, Minho, I --"

"Don't start." He all but huffs out the words, shutting you up immediately. Minho turns away to continue folding items of clothing on the shared bed and as you watch him do so, you stand and have to wonder if you want to be there when he returns home from the tour.

Changbin - Not knowing the difference between being rude and being blunt

He didn't seem to understand when to stop. Changbin had a tendency to be honest, sometimes to a fault, though you never seemed to complain about it because most of the time it wasn't a big deal. He called Jeongin out for saying the wrong word when singing, or blatantly threw people under the bus when a joke was taken too far.

And he was like that with you, too. He would be honest with you when you asked his opinion of something - was the shirt unflattering? Were you being too loud? Was your makeup bad today?

He'd lay it on you point blank. Yes, the shirt fit a little weird. Yes, you were being a bit loud in his ear. And yes, your eyeliner was going in two different directions. Criticism that was asked for. But when it wasn't asked for? Oh.

"What is your problem?" He bites as he follows you down the hallway to your bedroom. "We have ten minutes, just wear the damn dress and put your shoes on. We have to go."

Your huffs mix with stifled sobs as you rip open your dresser drawer and dig for other options, hands shaking and eyes teary. "You just told me the dress looks ugly, Changbin. I'm not wearing it out if you don't like it--!"

"What does it matter if i don't like it? It's your body, wear what you want!"

"You're my boyfriend!" You retaliate, frustrated. "I want to look nice for you and -- for the group, and I want you to like what I wear, obviously!"

Changbin lets his eyes roll before he turns out of the bedroom doorway and down the hall. You pause to watch him go, listening as he bites about how he doesn't have time for this and needs to leave for the group dinner. You stand in front of your dresser in shock as the door to your apartment slams shut, leaving you in silence and all on your own.

Hyunjin - Being too cocky / Making you feel inferior

It hadn't happened before now, and you weren't sure why it happened at all. But it did.

You'd approached to gently hold onto your boyfriend's arm as he talked to an older idol - someone he looked up to and had just done a collaboration video with. You'd only come up to tell him that the food was delivered and he could have dinner before his stage, but the look he gave you when he finally turned his head was .... wild.

No words were needed. The way his eyes directed to the side you stood at before falling as if looking you over and then immediately looking away; The way the smirk on his lips only widened and his tongue pushed at his canines as he redirected his gaze elsewhere. The soft scoff that left his lips. The way his arm slipped away from your hold in clear nuance that he didn't want you touching him.

It made you feel like less. Like he was pretending he didn't know you - Like he wanted you to bug off and disappear from his line of sight.

Hyunjin had a tendency to put on a confident, bold persona when he was on stage and at first you thought maybe that was why he was acting this way. It was lingering in his body from the dance video he'd just filmed with the other idol and eventually, it would wear off.

But as he turned from you and lifted a hand to fix his hair, he talks to the other as if you're not even there at all. And you have to wonder if it's a persona for the video, or a side of him you had just experienced for the first time. Now you could only hope it wouldn't happen again.