#'lol tiptoe' after i did that too

[zackcollins]

Brother: "I want Ana's Nano Boost achievement."

Me: "Hold my beer."

[em1i2a3]

Hole in the Earth

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, Angst, Smut, Panic Attacks, Mentions of Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Loss and Death, Age Gap (not mentioned but there are assumptions of an age gap if you squint a bit, there’s no full acknowledgment ), Mentions of Blood/Bleeding. The warnings for smut specifically; p in v sex (unprotected, wrap it before you tap it though!), fingering, oral (fem receiving), Praise kink if you squint, light choking (nothing too serious though), Bucky talks you through it (wink wink nudge nudge)

Author's Note: I wanted to do an actual series for this original character, but I didn’t feel like committing to something so big with my job, so I thought I’d stick to a one-shot format for this one. I know some things may not be totally accurate (this is my first time actually putting something out there that is based off of the MCU, I changed things up a bit, but not extremely, at least I hope lol.) Hopefully y’all enjoy though :) .

Word Count: 13,347 (Talk about slow burn eh? Seeing this word count made my jaw drop when I checked it at the end. What an extravaganza lol)

Some people filled silence with noise—small talk, jokes, distractions, awkward anecdotes, laughter even.

But you and Bucky?

You never needed words.

Your partnership had formed without much thought, an unspoken decision, a quiet inevitability. No one ever sat down and said, "You two should work together," but after everything—after the turmoil from the snap, all the loss, all the grief, and the way neither of you truly fit into what remained of the team anymore—it just happened naturally.

You had both come back to a world that had existed without you for five years. It was like a blur to you. It felt like nothing had happened until you saw the people you loved had aged significantly since the last time you had seen them, or you had lost them by that point.

To deviate from you Bucky had spent decades as a ghost, lost in time, fighting to take back something that had been stripped from him, and the five-year disappearance from the world felt like an eternity. You had heard him mention in passing that it was as if he was in a room with nothing but white around him, and he was all alone. Not only that but when he returned it took him a long time to adjust to the new normal.

Steve was gone.

Natasha was gone.

Tony was gone.

And you?

You were still here, stuck in a limbo between mourning and moving forward, existing in a place that didn’t feel like home anymore. Sam tried to make things easier, tried to be a stand-in for Tony, but it was no use, you told him to stop early on in his attempts, and he respected the request.

Bucky somehow understood your loss better than most of the team, even though he had returned to the same ruins you did. He didn’t bother you with the questions everyone else had when you came back to the compound, he gave you a nod of acknowledgement and tiptoed around you like you were a bomb that was going to explode at any moment, which was something that you ended up preferring.

So when the missions started up again, when the world needed something resembling the Avengers to step forward, it was an unspoken agreement—you and him, always paired together. You knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anyone else other than him.

It worked though.

The both of you kept things mission-focused and ignored whatever was happening outside of that. He never brought up your past, and you never brought up his, and even when there was downtime during the mission you stayed quiet, waiting in silence until you needed to step in.

But now?

Now the most recent mission had gone to hell, and you were stuck alone with him in a safe house, forced into a kind of closeness you had never prepared for.

The mission was supposed to be simple.

A HYDRA facility hidden beneath an abandoned city block, data that needed to be extracted, an easy exfiltration plan. When Sam had explained it you felt like you were having Deja Vu because of how many missions had been like this.

The plan had been clear—

Infiltrate.

Extract the data.

Get out.

You never made it past step two.

The power core in the lower level ruptured, sending a shockwave through the entire structure.

The explosion came too fast, too strong, it wasn’t something you prepared for at all.

You had barely made it to cover before the heat ripped through the walls, short-circuiting everything electronic based in the area—including the Neural Stabilizer locked around your throat.

You had felt it immediately.

The pulse of static in your bones, the electricity surging through your limbs with nowhere to go, the sensation of drowning in yourself. You laid on the cold metal, breathing in through the pain that echoed through your entire body, attempting to calm your nervous system down before things got out of your control.

"You alright?" Bucky called from the level above you.

You had forced yourself to swallow the panic as you raised your head to look up to where he was, only seeing his shadow at that point.

"I’m fine." You replied.

A lie.

Because you could feel the stabilizer glitching, flickering between control and chaos, the red warning light at your throat blinking erratically. It didn’t go unnoticed by Bucky though, even though you wished it had.

“Are you sure?” He asked, watching you struggle to push yourself up from the metal, seeing a pulse of faint blue static running across the floor. You closed your eyes tightly.

”Yes. I’m positive. Just cover me so I can get to you, then we can get the hell out of here.”

You had to push forward.

Because you had no choice.

Because if you didn’t keep moving, neither of you were getting out alive. But if you had a choice you would’ve stayed right where you were.

By the time you had escaped the facility, hot-wired a car, and driven two hours through the backroads to the nearest safe house—your entire body was on fire with unstable currents flowing through your blood. You were in such agony holding everything in that you had almost collapsed onto the ground when you exited the car.

Bucky had watched you run towards the cabin, observed the way you almost broke the doorknob and locked him out all within seconds. By the time he had entered the cabin you were out of his sight, and barricaded inside the washroom.

When you slammed the door closed you immediately turned on the dim light of the enclosed space, stripping off your tactical gear with shaking hands, leaving you in just a pair of shorts and a white tank top. You threw your utility belt onto the counter beside the sink, trying your best to catch your breath, feeling a burning sensation building inside your chest, clawing at the bones. You braced yourself against the porcelain sink, bringing your eyes up to your reflection, looking at the red glow of the Neural Stabilizer flashing on your neck, each pulse more erratic than the last.

Tony had promised it would always work.

Now it was failing as you stood there.

You reached up to touch the fried titanium of the neck plate, feeling the warmth radiating off it, as the light above you glowed brighter for a brief moment before returning to its normal state. That was the only warning sign you needed to kick yourself into high gear. You opened up your gear pouch, fumbling through the various tools you had, until you found what you needed. The tiny utility screwdriver, the one Tony had told you to keep on you at all times. You thanked your past self that they actually listened to him for once.

“It’s just for backup, kid, but if you ever need it, don’t panic. You got this.” You could hear his voice in your head, you could picture the moment he gave it to you and you reluctantly threw it into the gear pouch, making sure he witnessed you do it.

You pushed the memory out of your head and forced yourself to focus, returning your gaze back to your reflection, stretching your neck out so there was enough lighting. Your eyes trailed over the grooves of the metal, finding the space where the first latch would be. You shifted again, turning your head to the side before bringing the screwdriver to the first screw that secured the panel—

———

"Hold still, Sparkplug," Tony muttered, adjusting the metal band around your neck so that it was fitting snugly against your skin, "You fidget more than Peter, and that’s saying something."

You sighed, tilting your chin up, watching him work in the reflection of the mirror.

"Feels like a shock collar." You commented, digging your nails into the palm of your hand.

"Yeah, well, better than the alternative." He replied, looking at you out of the corner of his eye, before returning his gaze to the stabilizer. "Unless you like turning every elevator ride into a death trap." He added.

You scowled.

"It’s not that bad."

"Tell that to the toasters and light bulbs you murdered last week. You know I think I stepped on some of the broken glass you forgot to sweep up." You felt your lips tilt slightly at the joking tone he took.

"That was an accident."

"Yeah, and I’m accidentally a millionaire genius." He tightened the clasp on the metal, sliding his stool back to examine his work. "Alright. Try not to electrocute me when you test it out."

You hesitated, looking at the stabilizer in the mirror, seeing the signature blue glow that Tony had in his chest piece now reflecting off of your very own Stark Industries creation.

"You’re sure this will work?"

Tony’s smirk faded slightly, his expression softening at the worry that laced your voice. You had come a long way since he had taken you under his wing, but he knew you still struggled with keeping the power under wraps, it was evident by the way everything would short circuit even when you were feeling happy, it trapped you. When he designed the stabilizer all he wanted was for you to feel normal, and this was the one thing that he was confident in providing.

"Yeah, kid." His hand rested lightly on your shoulder. "I’m sure.”

“And what if it malfunctions?” You questioned, your hand now tracing the ridges of the titanium.

”I’ll be there to fix it…I promise Y/N. I wouldn’t let it get to that point anyways. Routine maintenance will prevent that I’m sure.”

Back then, you had believed him.

Because Tony always kept his promises.

———

Your hands trembled as you worked on the stabilizer, the screwdriver slipping between your fingers while you twisted it into the second latch. The sharp edge of the tool had sliced against the sensitive skin on your neck three times at this point, and the droplets of blood began to stain your hands. The faint pain began to curl into itself, causing the lights to brighten once again, only this time it remained that way. The tips of your fingers began to veil themselves in the mesh-like glow that slowly stretched along your skin, another bad sign that you needed to get yourself under control.

Your breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, watching the red light blinking faster and faster with each mistake you made, almost as if it was in sync with your pulse.

You couldn’t do this, and there was no doubt that by the end of this, you would have a hazardous explosion waiting to happen. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’d take out the whole town.

You were going to—

"Breathe, kid." Tony’s voice warned.

You couldn’t help but remember the video he had left in your inbox, dated the day before his death. You hadn’t looked at it for three weeks, you weren’t ready to see him at that point, you were grieving, but the day that you decided to click on it to listen, and to watch…You knew it was going to be seared into your memory.

———

Tony sat at his workbench, rubbing a hand over his face, scratching at the stubble on his chin almost in frustration. His hair was a little longer, a little messier, and the exhaustion on his face was worse than you’d ever seen it.

"Alright, kid. If you’re watching this, then congratulations. You survived. You came back. And I…Well…I didn’t, unless you are watching this for fun, which is absolutely weird, but whatever.”

A pause, he sighs, licking his dry lips, trying to search for what he was going to say.

"Not that I’d know, obviously, because I made this before all the very bad, end-of-the-world war type stuff went down, but I’d like to think I got to go out in a blaze of glory."

His lips tugged up, but there was no humor behind it.

"Which, by the way, is something I told you not to do a thousand times, so let’s not make this a trend, okay?"

You had let out a choked laugh, tears already stinging at your eyes. He took another pause, shaking his head.

"Five years." He exhaled hard, tapping his fingers against the desk. "You’ve been gone for five whole years, and I gotta tell you, kid, it’s sucked. Like, really sucked. We have this whole ‘Save the World’ initiative going on, and I keep looking around thinking, ‘Where the hell is my electric gremlin when I need her?’ But no. You were gone. Taken just like that."

He snapped his fingers, inhaling deeply through his nose, trying to control his voice.

"And that?" His tone dropped lower, something raw scraping at the edges. "That was a real bitch."

You pressed a hand against your mouth, trying not to break down, trying to keep yourself as composed as you could.

"You left, and everything was just… quieter. Too quiet. No more blowing out the lab’s power grid on purpose because you got pissed at me. No more stealing my coffee and blaming it on Rhodey. No more dumb science debates about whether or not your powers count as a renewable energy source. Just… nothing."

His fingers curled into a fist, hitting his knuckles lightly against the workbench.

"I miss you, kid. And I know I didn’t say it enough when I had the chance, so I’m saying it now."

A sharp inhale. There was a cut in the footage. Now his position had changed, and he was standing.

"You’re back though. And I need you to listen, alright?"

You sat up nodding, even though he couldn’t see you.

"This thing?" He said, tapping a Neural Stabilizer on his own throat.

"Yeah, I made one for myself. No, I don’t need it. But you’re a visual learner—or maybe you just don’t trust me unless I put myself in your shoes. Either way, I made one so I could show you how easy this is to fix."

He sighed.

"Anyways, let’s be real. If this thing is flickering red, that means something bad happened. Maybe you got hit by an EMP. Maybe you took too many hits in a fight, and someone broke it. Maybe the universe just hates us both equally, who knows. But if it’s failing, that means you’re going to short-circuit because your body won’t know what to do with all the excess energy. And when you short-circuit, so does everything else around you. That means streetlights, security systems, Wi-Fi—" he gestures around him with his hands "—you know, everything people actually need to function."

You sniffled, pressing your fingers against your lips.

"So. Let’s fix it before you blackout an entire city block, huh?"

His eyes softened, something warm but worn behind them.

"You got this, kid. You always have."

A pause.

"Alright. First step—pop the latch. Gently put the screwdriver into the large metal coil, it should be bright orange if the stabilizer is malfunctioning due to the overheating. Twist it counterclockwise. And whatever you do, do not—"

——-

You pressed too hard.

The screwdriver slipped, and another sharp sting burned across your neck, the blood now dripping down your neck and soaking into the tank top you wore.

"Shit." You muttered, your fingers flying to your throat, wiping off the blood as much as you could, your pulse hammering throughout your entire body, as the crimson liquid smeared across your skin.

Before you could even process the impending pain, the Neural Stabilizer’s light turned off completely.

Without missing a beat a violent pulse of static erupted outward, a crackling, jagged burst of energy tearing free from your body.

The lightbulbs overhead shattered, raining sparks and broken glass onto the tiles, lightly cutting up some of your exposed flesh. The mirror fractured down the middle, sharp cracks splintering outward, but not fully falling off the surface.

The entire safe house went dark, the fridge cut out, the security system fried, the cell towers blinked offline. In the kitchen, Bucky sat at the rickety dining table, thinking about whether or not it would be a good idea to try to come in and help. Even after the power surge, he was still on the fence about going and intruding on what was happening in there, not out of fear, but out of what he might have to do to get everything under control.

Inside the bathroom, the only light left was coming from you, and now the soapy smell that had once filled the room had been taken over by the crisp smell of ozone, as if a rain storm just occurred.

Your reflection in the mirror flickered, illuminated by the uneven, stuttering glow of electricity crawling over your skin. Tiny spiderweb cracks of raw current slithered up your arms, twisting beneath the surface, licking along your fingertips, wrapping around your body, almost like it was a reunion. The stabilizer narrowed the current down significantly when it was on, without it there was no regulation.

The charge had nowhere to go. It buzzed, and coiled, desperate for an escape, trying to find something to attach to. Your body felt too full, like a live wire wound too tight, ready to snap apart, and now the pain was truly starting to settle in, deep inside your bones, causing your blood to curl.

"No, no, no—"

You repeated, slamming your hand against the countertop. A sharp crack of static arced outward, splitting the porcelain, hairline fractures splintering in front of you.

Your breath hitched in your throat, as every muscle in your body seized.Your heart pounded painfully against your chest, erratic, frantic—

Then the doorknob rattled.

"Hey."

It was Bucky.

"You okay?"

The words barely registered with you, it sounded muffled, drowned beneath the buzzing that rang through your ears. You could feel your pulse spike violently, as panic slammed through your ribs like a live wire.

You couldn’t answer the simple question.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t stop the charge from rising once again.

The electricity under your skin wouldn’t settle, wouldn’t stop expanding, the raw static skittered along your body, flaring out in thin veins of uncontrolled current.

"I—" you croaked, holding onto your chest, trying to stabilize your voice from shaking.

The door creaked open.

And before you could even react, the barricade was removed from between the both of you.

Bucky stood in the dim blue glow, still dressed in the majority of his tactical gear, minus the weapons. The glass crunched under his boots as he stepped into the washroom, his sharp and guarded expression softening when his eyes locked onto the scene in front of him.

His gaze flickered over the shattered bulbs, and the fractured mirror, and when he breathed in the smell of static tickled his nose, almost like someone had taken chlorine and mixed it with metal.

Then his eyes landed on you. Your trembling hands, your shaking shoulders, the way your body twitched with the electric currents still pulsing beneath your skin, his eyes watched the glowing cracks spread along your arms. He could see in the lighting that your neck was bleeding, and that your stabilizer was practically fried. At this point, he concluded that he in fact didn’t know where to start.

”Y/N…” His voice was dripping with concern, trying to piece together what he could do.

You tried to speak, tried to tell him to go away but all that came out was a gut-wrenching sob, the panic and fear sinking its claws deeper into your ribs.

"Hey, you need to breathe," Bucky instructed his voice low, calm, and even. But you couldn’t. Couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t pull yourself back from the static buzzing inside your skull, it was mind-numbing. The only thing that snapped you out of your haze was the crunching of glass beneath Bucky’s boots, as he stepped towards you.

"Don't—" You snapped, desperate to keep him away. "I can’t— I can’t shut it off…Just stay…Stay back Bucky." Your hands trembled, as your arms locked up, the muscles tightening, like a cord was wrapping around them. The crunching noise stopped, but the buzzing in your ears didn’t, as you leaned your body on the sink, moaning through the stinging pain that ran up your spine.

”Listen I can’t just leave you in here like this, what can I do to help?” You could feel your knees go numb while you were trying to contain whatever was building up to release next. You braced yourself against the counter, cushioning the drop to the ground as much as possible. Your bare knees felt the impact of the glass as the sharp edges dug into the thin flesh, a grunt escaping your throat, while you were attempting to shift slightly to the side before putting all your weight on the front portion of the counter.

”Just go away.” Was all you could muster to say through your short sobs of pain, “Please just go.” You begged, tears now streaming down your cheeks, as you put your forehead onto the edge of the porcelain sink, letting the cold temperature even out the heat that was radiating off your skin.

Bucky didn’t move, didn’t heed your request to leave, instead he crouched down, and sat on the glass-covered floor, with his arms resting on his knees. He watched you closely, noting how your body would tremble every couple of seconds, or how the static that covered every exposed area of your skin buzzed lightly at any sign of movement.

”Please leave.” You choked out again, barely above a whisper. Bucky sighed, his jaw clenching at the rawness in your voice. The last-ditch effort to push him away before anything worse happened, before you hurt him.

”I’m not going anywhere Y/N…It would go against my better judgment.” He replied, clenching and unclenching his vibranium hand, contemplating. He knew what he needed to do, but had no clue how he would execute the plan without you possibly lashing out at him.

He glanced back up at you, watching as your grip tightened on the edge of the sink, another strangled whimper escaping into the room. You were already so far gone at this point that there was no way you were going to come back without additional help, at least that’s what Bucky was starting to conclude from what was transpiring in front of him.

Another burst of static snapped out from you, slashing against the mirror, fully breaking the reflective pieces, hearing the shattering as it fell into the sink, splintering, leaving small superficial wounds on the tips of your fingers, lines of red blooming across your knuckles. You didn’t even register the pain.

Bucky barely flinched, because at this point he wasn’t going to wait anymore, and now that you were distracted he took the opportunity. Quickly he brought himself forward and wrapped his vibranium arm around your waist, pulling you against him with more force than he intended. Your back collided against his chest, and immediately you could feel your body locking up in his grip as his other arm wrapped around your waist to try to stabilize you so you weren’t thrashing on the glass-covered ground. You could feel your lungs seize up.

”Let me go!” You twisted violently in his hold, as you dug your nails into his right arm, trying to loosen the restraint he formed around your body. You slammed your back into his chest, attempting to wind him, but it was no use, Bucky was a solid unmoving force at this point, and he remained locked around you. Another fresh stream of tears ran down your cheeks. He could feel your body heating up against his as he adjusted, trying to get you to stop thrashing.

”Bucky, please…” Your voice cracked, a sob tearing from your throat, feeling another burst of static snapping around you, at whatever was near, it was lashing out until it found Bucky’s arm, as the blue static slipped into the limb causing the vibranium to light up. A crackling wave of electricity ran up each plate, filling the thin gaps between each one. This realization only made you thrash against him even harder.

”Y/N I’m fine! Stop it, you’re not hurting me.” He insisted, tightening his arms around you once again as you began to shake against him. “Look,” He murmured. Through the haze of your panic, you forced yourself to focus, your gaze trailing down to the arm that was clenched around you. The shock and static wasn’t building, or lashing outward, it was being absorbed. Bucky could almost feel your body relax at the sight, even though you were still wheezing and breathing too fast.

”It’s not hurting me.” He repeated again, but all you could hear was the buzzing inside your skull, it was deafening. Your vision blurred as you made small attempts to push him away, even though it was of no use, he didn’t budge. He was steady, controlled, and unfazed, as his ears tuned into the way you were breathing, the panicked wheezing.

“Y/N, you have to breathe…Can you feel me breathing?” He asked, trying to hide the urgency behind his voice, adjusting again so now he was able to see the side of your face, and the way your pupils were blown out. His damp hair tickled the side of your face, as he leaned forward trying to make sure you were practically cocooned in him, almost mimicking an emergency blanket in a way. You could feel yourself trembling in his arms, as his right hand came up to intertwine with yours, guiding your palm to rest flat against your chest, right over your heart.

“Y/N, focus on me…If you can hear me, focus on my breathing.” He instructed, holding you closer to him so your back was directly pressed into his chest. You could feel his body rise and fall against you, even, measured…A slow inhale, a gentle exhale.

”Match me.” He whispered, his warm breath sticking to the exposed skin of your shoulder. You attempted to breathe in as deeply as he did, feeling a burning sensation creep up along the sides of your ribs. The exhale came out fast and uneven from you, but Bucky didn’t rush the process, as he took in another breath, his chest expanding against your back. You attempted to take in another breath, but this time it came a little easier, even though it still felt like every bone in your body had its own personal vice grip around it. Black dots began to pebble into your sight, feeling a numbness washing over you.

“Good…Now let it out.” Was the last thing you heard before your vision went dark.

------

The first thing you heard when you regained consciousness was music.

Soft and slow, floating through the air in a smooth jazz melody, rich with nostalgia. The mellow voice of the crooner was claiming he would never smile again, as the lyrics gently carried over the hum of the muted trumpets, the backup singers harmonized the man's sorrow while the serenade continued. It felt like a lullaby that was meant for another time.

Then everything else began to settle in; the bed beneath you, the rough comforter scratching against the backs of your legs. The blanket on top of you pulled up to your neck, enveloping you in its warmth. A dull ache lingered in every area of your body, your hands were sore, your face felt swollen from the crying that you had done, and it felt like if you attempted to move you would throw up. But at least your breathing was finally stable. No longer ragged or filled with panic. It was a relief in a way.

The music continued as your ears caught the sound of a soft tapping in rhythm with the song. A gentle exhale released into the room. Bucky. Slowly, you forced your heavy eyelids open, as the stucco ceiling came into your sight, the dimmed emergency lights providing a soft hue to the space. You tilted your head up so your chin was settled on your chest, noticing that you were still wearing the white tank top that was now stained with your blood. The way you were able to move your neck with such ease also made you realize that you didn’t have your stabilizer on, which brought on another concern, as you laid your eyes on the sight before you.

Bucky sat at the kitchen table, illuminated by his cell phone, which was leaning against one of the salt shakers, the light casting shadows along his jaw and cheeks. His hair looked damp and curled in on itself like he was fresh out of the shower, and you had noticed he wasn’t in his regular combat gear. Instead, he had on a black, form-fitting long-sleeved shirt, and a pair of matching cargo pants. He was so lost in what he was doing that his gaze was practically glued to the table, and you could tell he was fiddling with something that you couldn’t particularly see. You tried to lean up onto your elbows to try and catch a glimpse of what he was doing, only to have your knees scream out in pain when you accidentally bent them. A hiss escaped your throat, automatically breaking Bucky’s concentration on what he was working on, as his head snapped in your direction, putting down whatever he was working on to pay attention to you.

“Take it easy. You still have glass in your knees.” He informed, hesitating to tell you that he hadn’t pulled out the shards when you were passed out. You groaned at the sentence, your body dropping back against the pillow, as you reached up to massage your head, trying to mend an impending migraine.

“I feel like I’ve been through a few rounds with a freight train.” You said, closing your eyes tightly at the sound of the rawness of your voice.

“Well…That’s kind of what happens when you go nuclear on yourself.” He muttered, leaning back in his seat, his gaze locking on you as you dragged your hands down your face. He nervously tapped his fingers on the table, biting the inside of his lip, “You scared me y’know.” The words fell from his mouth before he could even stop himself, the admission causing you to let out a ragged sigh.

“It wasn’t my intention to do that.” He shook his head.

“Intentions don’t mean much when you’re screaming for me to go away and you’ve caused every light bulb in the place to explode.” You could hear the control he had on his voice, the way he took his breaths so that his words didn’t waver. He was bothered by what you had done, there was no doubting that, but you had never heard him speak like this before.

“Are you honestly going to pick a fight with me right now? Could this not wait until the glass gets taken out of my knees?” You snapped, as your body began to slowly heat up. He scoffed at your suggestion, shaking his head in disbelief.

“No. It can’t wait, because the second I come to help you’re going to avoid the conversation.” You rolled your eyes.

“Jesus Christ Bucky. I get it.”

“Do you?” He questioned. You clenched your jaw as you pushed yourself up so you were able to look at him, to hash this out before it killed your partnership. Your knees seared at the quick movement while you settled on the bed, but you shoved the pain aside, keeping the tensity in your eyes.

“I don’t know what the fuck you want me to say. Do you want me to say sorry I didn’t tell you about the stabilizer breaking as I was attempting to not fucking explode around you?!” You shot back, squeezing your hand into a fist, trying to hold in the static that began to line your skin again.

“I want you to say you trust me. Because right now it doesn’t feel like it, and if we’re going to continue working together, I need that reassurance.” You looked up from your hands, catching his hardened gaze, seeing the betrayal in his eyes.

“You know I trust you.” You stated, watching as he shook his head, and stood up from his seat.

“Do I? Because you don’t act like it. Do you remember what just happened an hour and a half ago? You had plenty of opportunity to tell me what the hell was going on and you refused. I had to come in and see you in absolute shambles, do you understand how that felt?” Your eyes followed him as he paced.

“I didn’t want you to see me like that, you made a choi-.”

“I chose to take care of you!” He snapped, his voice raising in volume, the reaction making you flinch, not because you were scared, but because he had never yelled at you like that. “That’s what any teammate would do. But you make it impossible unless it’s forced on you, which is what I had to resort to. Do you think that made me feel good?” He asked, looking over at you, his eyes shimmering in the light. The guilt hit you harder than any punch you had taken, truly realizing how much pain you had put him in. You could see the way his hands twitched at his sides, remembering the way he was holding you and restraining your movements, reliving the moment over and over again as you fought against him.

“I-I was afraid I was going to hurt you Bucky, that’s why I was fighting you. I didn’t want to hurt you, or even worse kill you…” The words were heavy when they left your lips, “You may think you’re invincible, but you could’ve died…And then what? I lose another person I care about?” You could immediately see his eyes soften at your words and the way that your voice was shaking and cracking as you attempted to keep it steady. He held your gaze, keeping his spot at the side of the table, but now he was holding the edge of it, leaning on it for support. You could see the frustration in his eyes draining away with every moment that passed as he connected the dots.

“So that’s what this is about?” He asked softly, the sharpness from earlier being replaced with something gentler, caring. He ran his hand through his hair,“...You do know I’m 106 years old and have gone through way worse than a little bit of electricity right?” You were surprised by the sudden change in his tone, detecting the trail of humour that laced his words.

“And that this new arm…” He lifted his vibranium hand into your line of sight, flexing his fingers, letting the dim light catch against the matte black material “Doesn’t allow you to hurt me correct? The material just absorbs it. You saw it when I showed you in the washroom, you even stopped fighting me when you saw it. It doesn’t have a voltage limit or anything so…I don’t think it would’ve been possible for you to kill me. Does that help cure your worries?” He asked, letting the question hang in the air, leaning against the table again. You let out a slow breath and nodded, but you didn’t reply, you just let the intensity of the argument die down. The jazz music faded in again now, filling the silence for a few beats until you absentmindedly replied to him.

“You’re 106?” His lips pressed into a firm line, thrown off by the abrupt shift in conversation.

“That’s all you got from that speech I just gave you? Really?” You shrugged.

“I mean…You carry yourself pretty well, you don’t look a day over 100.” You said, tilting your head to the side to feign consideration “Mmm, actually maybe I would even go as far as saying you could pass for 90.” He shook his head at you, but you could see he was fighting a smile from appearing on his lips, as he reached up to rub the stubble on his face.

“Absolutely ridiculous.” He wasn’t annoyed, nor frustrated, it sounded like he was relieved, because neither of you wanted to admit it, but you didn’t like where the conversation was going, the both of you didn’t want to fight over something like that, you were supposed to be partners. The weight of the argument was settled, and you both were thankful for that. You let some time pass, just to allow each other to come down from the adrenaline until you cleared your throat.

“I’m sorry by the way.” You said quietly, earning a soft sigh from him, he opened his mouth to interrupt, but you held up your hand to stop him, “I didn’t mean to shut you out. You had every right to be angry with me, and I shouldn’t have fought you, I should’ve just allowed you to help me.” Bucky nodded, his blue eyes locking onto yours again.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to yell at you, I lost my temper…And I didn’t mean to scare you. I wasn’t mad, I was just-.” He paused for a moment, inhaling deeply “I just didn’t like seeing you like that.” Your fingers tightened around the blanket at his admission, but you nodded as well to acknowledge you heard him. You let the moment breathe, still feeling the lingering guilt of how angry he had been just a few minutes prior, but what sat in your chest was how bothered he was by your pain because it wasn’t about the outburst itself, it was about what it meant. The way he snapped was his way of trying to convey that your well-being was important to him, and even the thought of that made something in you seize up. So much for keeping the partnership strictly mission-based I guess, you thought as you shifted on the mattress, only to be reminded of the searing pain coming from your legs.

“Now that we’re done arguing…Do you mind taking the glass out of my knees now?” You asked, cringing at the sharp burning sensation that radiated throughout your kneecaps with each slight movement you made to try and get yourself in a better position to attempt to ease the pain, to no avail.

“Oh Jesus, yeah of course. Sorry.” He replied sheepishly as if he had forgotten about what he had said at the beginning of the argument. Bucky worked with a quiet urgency, collecting the first aid kit, and a basin to put the shards of glass in, stopping for a moment at the table to pause the music on his phone before picking up your stabilizer from where he had been sitting. When he had turned back to you he could see the look of surprise on your face, as your eyes trailed over it, seeing the familiar blue glow that indicated it was fixed.

“I figured it wouldn’t hurt to attempt to work on it while you were passed out,” He explained, looking down at the curved titanium while he made his way over to the bed, “Don’t really know if I actually fixed the thing, but it’s not glowing red or anything so I’m assuming I made a bit of progress.” He shrugged, as he sat down in front of you, settling the first aid kit down before handing the stabilizer over to you, feeling your fingers brush against his gently, watching you take it from him with a small smile on your face. You looked at it closely, your fingertips buzzing in anticipation, the cool weight of the titanium almost bringing you a wave of relief. You felt around for the familiar latch at the back of the stabilizer, clicking it open with a gentle hiss, your eyes glancing up to meet Bucky’s blue irises.

“It’s looking promising.” You joked, seeing his lips turn up slightly, before tilting your head back to expose your neck, brushing your hair aside. Carefully you aligned the stabilizer against your throat, settling it into place as the soft hum of the hydraulics pulled the device together, allowing it to lock around your neck. You rested your hands against the edges of it, waiting for a moment, allowing it to calibrate. Bucky watched you, trying to see if there was any sign that he had messed up somehow, thinking about the wires he cut and shifted when he began his attempt on fixing the thing, hoping to god it wasn’t something important. A beat of silence passed over the both of you quickly, being quenched with a soft exhale.

“Seems like you actually did it.” You informed, turning your head from side to side to ensure everything was properly secured.

“You sound surprised,” Bucky replied, feigning offence.

“Hmm. Tony made this thing idiot-proof, so I’m a bit taken aback by your…Skills.” His eyebrows raised at you, shaking his head as he flipped open the first aid kit.

“It’s not like I have an arm that’s state-of-the-art technology or something like that.” He shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word he spoke while he collected a few alcohol pads, tweezers, and gauze from the inside of the container. “Now…Ready to play Operation?” He asked jokingly.

“Just what I need, Bucky Barnes playing surgeon.” You replied, adjusting your position so that your knees were bent between the both of you, pulling the blanket off carefully just in case any of the glass had accidentally caught on any of the fibres. When the damage came into your line of sight you could practically feel your stomach twist and turn into knots. The blood was dry and streaked in the crevices of your knees. Tiny shards of glass embedded themselves like fractured stars in the thin flesh that lined the bone, glinting under the soft light. Some pieces were deep, surrounded by angry red welts where your body had begun trying to reject them. Others sat more superficially, barely hanging on but all of it looked raw, swollen, and painful. You could feel yourself get lightheaded just by looking at it.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You announced, throwing yourself down onto the mattress, the back of your head hitting the pillow, “I can’t look at it.”

“You’re telling me out of all the things you’ve seen, this is the thing that does you in?” He commented, “Now that’s disappointing.” You groaned, putting your arm over your face.

“It’s different when it’s my blood.” He let out a small laugh, the bed shifting under his weight as he adjusted, positioning his vibranium hand between the bend of your left knee to keep it still, the coolness causing you to tense up.

“Alright, I’ll go slow. Ready?” You nodded, keeping your face covered, attempting to hide the blush that began to rise on your cheeks, feeling him pull out one of the smaller pieces of glass, starting easy. He dropped it into the steel bowl, dabbing the blood off your skin with gauze, as he continued his feat, getting close enough that his breath fanned over the wound. You shut your eyes tightly, another sharp jolt of pain shooting up your leg, your other hand digging into the comforter beneath you.

“God damn it Bucky.” You hissed, your knee jerking involuntarily, his grip keeping you steady.

“Almost got it, just hold still.” His voice was soft, focused on grabbing onto the tip of the glass that he had been pulling out seconds before, the slow meticulous movements bringing you to the brink of screaming

“Okay. I need you to talk or something. Distract me before I start destroying the place please.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Bucky asked with hesitation, another piece of glass clanging against the steel bowl.

“Tell me something you liked…Before everything. Something you miss maybe.” He hummed, going for another shard of glass.

“Music…And dancing too I guess.” You took your arm away from your face, pushing yourself up onto your elbows, looking at him with your eyebrows raised.

“You? Dancing?” For a brief moment, he glanced up at you with a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What? You don’t believe me?” You shrugged.

“I just can’t picture Bucky Barnes on the dance floor, were you like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever?” His brow furrowed for a moment, confused at what you were referring to.

“Saturday Night what?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“You’ve never seen that movie?” He gave you a flat look, returning his eyes to your knees, taking out another piece of glass and wiping the droplets of blood that slid down your skin.

“I’ve been frozen in ice, brainwashed, and playing assassin for half a century. You think I’ve had time to watch movies?” You leaned back a little, resting your weight on your elbows.

“Fair point, but it’s a classic Bucky. The disco music, the bell bottoms, the gyrating.” You reminisced, watching as his lips pressed tightly together.

“Pretty sure I was not gyrating on the dancefloor.” He commented back, another piece of glass joining the pile as he moved to your other knee, his hand leaving your skin briefly before mirroring the same position with the other leg.

“So what kind of dancing did you do then?” A smirk appeared on his lips, his eyes crinkling, showing off what little wrinkles he had.

“Ballroom, Swing if I was feeling fancy.” You grinned.

“Very nice.” You could see his cheeks dusting red slightly, as he dropped another piece of glass into the bowl, wiping your knee.

“What can I say…I had the moves.”

“Had?” He glanced up at you, his teeth showing slightly now, a genuine smile appearing on his face, something you had not seen before from him.

“Careful, it sounds like you want to find out.” The way his voice dropped made a satisfying shiver shoot up your spine, but you kept your expression neutral, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“Oh yeah? You offering to take me out dancing Bucky?” He shrugged, shifting in his spot to get a bit more comfortable, latching onto another piece of glass.

“Maybe.” Glancing up to see your reaction, noticing that you were blushing as well. You shook your head at him.

“Please, if we ever went out dancing you’d throw me around like a ragdoll and I’d end up concussed.” He laughed deeply, returning his eyes to your knees.

“Nah...You’d be good, I can tell.” You squinted at him.

”Oh yeah? And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Bucky smirked, his hand shifting to adjust your leg, the tweezers grabbing on to another glass shard.

”You move well. Quick on your feet, and you can keep up with me.” You scoffed at his comment, your body tensing as the pain from your knee was slowly building up again.

”You make it sound like fighting and dancing are the same thing.” He hummed, distracted from the conversation for a brief moment. You glanced at him, noticing that he was holding his breath as he pulled the large shard of glass out, bringing the cracked and bloodied piece up to your sight, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Well, they’re not all that different. Both are about timing. About knowing your partner.” Bucky replied, his voice low and smooth. Another clang echoed throughout the room while he grabbed a fresh gauze pad to press down onto the weeping wound. You swallowed, shifting against the mattress, trying to ignore the warmth that crept up your back.

”So what, you’re saying we’d make a good dancing pair?” You could feel the way his fingers flexed at the question, his cold vibranium thumb running over the bottom of your knee. He didn’t look up right away, still applying pressure on the wound that continued to slowly bleed.

”I think we already do.” He murmured, lifting his gaze to meet yours. You could see the way his eyes scanned over yours, the way that his jaw clenched just for a split second. An unwavering heat crept up the back of your neck, flushing your chest and the surrounding area of skin red.

“Yeah? What makes you so sure?” His eyes never left yours as he adjusted his grip again, letting his fingers freely brush against your skin, as if he didn’t realize what he was doing.

”I know how you move, and you never have problems following instructions when you’re given them.” Your fingers twitched against the sheets, the words sinking into you. He wasn’t wrong, not one bit, but it was the way he said it, and the way his breath hit your skin, the sensations were crowding you at that point that it was starting to become increasingly difficult to keep yourself cool.

”Sounds a bit cocky if you’d ask me.” He dropped the tweezers into the bowl, throwing the saturated gauze on top of it, as he wet his bottom lip with his tongue.

”Not cocky, just observant, that's all.” His voice was low, sultry, you didn’t know if he meant for it to come out so soft, but it still made you feel motion sickness. Before you could even stop to think about what you were going to do, you reached down, your fingers holding the back of his bicep, gripping onto the cool vibranium through the sleeve of his shirt as you pulled yourself up.

The second you entered his space, his eyes were locked onto yours, wide and searching, like he was surprised you decided to pull that little move. You could feel the warmth radiating off of him now, and you were hyper-aware of how his chest rose and fell now that you were closer to him, the shallowness of his breaths coming to your attention almost immediately.

“What are you doing?” He asked, looking over at your hand sliding up, gliding over the curve of his shoulder. His hand remained behind your knee, as the other one gripped the mattress beside him, unsure if he should reach out to bring you closer. You tilted your head forward, your lips dangerously close to his, as the both of you exchanged breaths.

”Getting comfortable.” You whispered, watching his jaw tense at your words, his fingers twitching against your skin. He tilted his head back slightly, letting out a sigh.

”You don’t want this, Y/N.” Your brows furrowed at the hesitancy in his voice, but before you could protest he continued, “It’s been a long time…Since I’ve…” He paused, looking back at you, “I just don’t want to disappoint you.” You could hear the vulnerability in his voice mixing with embarrassment, as he avoided your eyes still. Slowly, you slid your hands down the front of his shirt, feeling his chest tense up beneath your touch as your fingers gripped the fabric gently.

“You won’t disappoint me Bucky,” His hands flexed at your words like he was battling with himself as he returned his eyes to yours, allowing the both of you to really look at each other. You had never noticed the way his eyes glistened in the light or the way his pupils ate away at the blueness of his irises.

You shifted onto your knees, being mindful of the ache, but ignoring it in favour of attempting to bring yourself closer to him, as you slid your fingers upward, tracing the outline of his collarbone. Carefully, you moved, sliding yourself into his lap, feeling his body stiffen beneath you, his hands coming up to hold your waist out of instinct. Your fingers curled around the chain of his dog tags, feeling the cool metal in your hands, as you leaned in, letting your lips ghost over the rough stubble along his jaw.

”It’s been a long time for me too.” You admitted softly, your breath warm against his skin, his fingers gripping you just a little tighter, feeling your lips press a gentle kiss on his neck. His breath left him slowly, his vibranium hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

”Yeah?” His voice filled with uncertainty, as you pulled back to look down at him, nodding, threading your fingers into his damp hair.

”I also don’t know what I’m doing half the time either,” You replied, tilting yourself forward, bringing your lips close to his, “But I know I want this…And I know I want you.” You admitted, closing the space between the both of you, your lips meeting his. Bucky let out a sound that was a cross between a sharp inhale and a groan, as his arm slid around your waist wrapping around you so your body was flush against his chest. His thumb traced along your cheek as he leaned up, trying to basically crawl into you.

The kiss was tentative at first, slow and meticulous, like he was memorizing the feeling of your lips against his, the way you pulled on his hair, and the small moans that escaped into the air as he kept you pressed against his chest. A soft hum vibrated from your throat when his lips parted just enough to deepen the kiss, your tongue meeting his in a battle for dominance.

Bucky was the first one to break the kiss, overwhelmed by all the sensations that were hitting him at the same time. He rested his forehead against yours, catching his breath, as his arm tightened around you, trying to steady himself. You opened your eyes, your hands coming up to hold his face, pulling back to look at him, seeing the softness in his stare, like he was in a daze.

”You sure it’s been a while since you’ve done this?” He let out a laugh, shaking his head.

”Yeah, I’m positive.” He replied, his eyes scanning over your swollen lips, “It’s muscle memory I guess.” You smirked at him, your thumbs dragging over the stubble on his face.

“I think you just know what you’re doing.” You whispered, your compliment causing him to blush.

”You flatter me…” Before you could respond, Bucky shifted, his arm tightening around your waist as he moved forward. In one fluid motion, he eased you down onto the mattress, his body following closely behind, blanketing you in his warmth, anticipation thrumming beneath your skin, your legs wrapping around his hips. He braced his weight against his vibranium hand, as his eyes traced over every detail of your face. Your fingers curled over the neckline of his shirt, pulling him closer to you so that he could capture your lips with his again, his body pressing against yours in a way that sent a pool of heat into your lower stomach. He savoured every moment, feeling the way your legs tightened around him, pulling him even closer to you, the heat of your body surrounding him like a shield of sorts. It was intoxicating to the point where it made his head spin. You arched into him instinctively, dragging your hands down to the hem of his shirt, slipping them beneath the covering so that your fingers could dance across the muscles of his stomach, feeling them twitch against your touch. He let out a stuttered breath as he broke the kiss, leaning back so that he could pull his shirt off for you, throwing it to the side in one smooth motion.

The dim lighting of the room casted shadows over the hard planes of his chest, accentuating every defined ridge of muscle he had. Your eyes drifted to where flesh met metal, to the seam where his vibranium arm connected to his shoulder. The skin around it was littered with thick scarred tissue, jagged and slightly raised. You couldn’t imagine how many procedures he had been put through to get him to this point, but all you could think about was the pain he must’ve gone through. You continued to look him over, his dog tags catching your eyes for a moment, your hand reaching up to grab it gently.

”You’re staring,” He commented, his hand wrapping around your wrist, feeling your pulse bounding against his fingertips.

”It’s the first time I’m seeing you like this…Give me a little grace.” You joked, running your thumb over his name on the dog tag. He allowed you to take your time with him, knowing that he would probably do something similar when the roles became reversed.

“I didn’t take you for the sentimental type.” He murmured, his voice quieter than before, reserved for such an intimate moment.

”I’m just trying to memorize all of it.” You replied, letting your hand fan out over his chest, the steady rhythm of his heart pulsing against your palm. His lips parted for a moment, almost in disbelief that you liked what you were seeing, as he brought your hand up to his mouth, gently kissing the back of it, keeping his eyes on yours. His vibranium fingers raced absentminded circles along the skin of your exposed hip, his thumb brushing along the hem of your tank top, hesitating to make his next move. You sat up slightly, giving him the go-ahead to pull the shirt off of you, feeling the cool metal graze against the sensitive flesh of your ribs, as you raised your arms above your head allowing him to remove the top with ease, watching him throw it off the side of the bed. His gaze dropped to your body, roaming over every expanse of skin he could see, as you laid back down on the mattress, putting yourself under the spotlight this time.

Just like Bucky, you had your own set of war wounds, only they were caused by your own hands. The marks on your skin were not ordinary bruises, Bucky had never seen anything like them before, and the level of concern behind his eyes made you speak up.

“They’re Lichtenberg figures…People get them when they’re struck by lightning, and well…You can connect the dots as to why I have them of course.” They branched across your torso in breathtaking patterns, thin fractals of darkened reds stretching from the center of your chest and curling down your ribs, sprawling out like frozen lightning, captured in the canvas of your body. Some of the marks ran deeper, more defined, where the energy had burned through your skin with more force. Others faded into the natural warmth of your body, barely there but still visible under the dim light of the room. His eyes roamed over them, committing the patterns to memory, as he reached out with his right hand, hesitating for a moment.

“Do they hurt?” You looked up at him, shaking your head.

“No. There’s so much scarred tissue at this point that the area is pretty much numb.” You explained, feeling his calloused fingers trailing over the patterns on your torso while his vibranium hand remained on your hip, holding you still. He hummed, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss against your collarbone.

“They’re beautiful.” He whispered, his breath hitting the shell of your ear, your heart immediately swelling at his words, feeling his lips pecking along your shoulder, as his hand continued to trace along the etched fractals, moving up towards your breasts. He pulled back for a moment, breathing against the little wet marks he had left on your skin, cooling them down before returning to his exploration, kissing over the swell of your breast, his lips parting against the sensitive flesh, sucking just enough to leave faint red marks behind. You tensed beneath his touch, arching your back towards him, his fingers digging into your hip, pushing you back down against the mattress, his lips turning up into a smile against your skin.

“Stay still.” His voice vibrated against you, feeling his fingers trailing down the side of your rib cage, his lips gently making their descent down your sternum, his teeth grazing down the pathway, sending a shiver up your spine, your fingers finding their way to his hair, carding them through the damp strands.

“You’re making this hard Bucky.” He glanced up at you, his blue eyes darkened with lust.

“That’s the whole point.” He replied, continuing to trail down your stomach, his stubble scraping down your skin, before kissing right above your navel, “I want to take my time with you.” He whispered, bringing his right hand down to hold onto your thigh against him, the rough callouses causing goosebumps to rise beneath his touch. You tugged on his hair, feeling him move even lower so his lips were right just above the waistband of your shorts, his head tilting up to look at you. You held his gaze, your chest rising and falling with each uneven breath you took. A smirk played on his lips, and without breaking eye contact, he pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just above the fabric, his stubble scraping against your skin in a way that sent a delicious ache spreading through you.

“Can I take these off?” He asked gently, his fingers playing lightly with the waistband, teasing you when his thumb dipped below it for a fraction of a second before returning to its spot.

“Yes…Please.” Your voice sounded so desperate, choked up with tension, feeling him hook his fingers around the fabric before slowly pulling them down your hips, then down your thighs, only moving away from you to remove the shorts from your body completely, letting it join the increasing pile of clothes that began to form on the floor. His jaw clenched at the sight of you in front of him, your body laid out beneath his, completely bare except for your underwear. His hands moved slowly, as he grasped the back of your thighs, his thumbs pressing gently into your skin. You reached for him, your fingers tracing up his forearms, craving for him to return to where he had been just moments ago, the anticipation winding tight in your stomach. He leaned back down towards you, bringing your legs up over his broad shoulders, pulling you closer to him as he settled between your thighs, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your knee, the warmth of his breath sending a shudder through you. His grip on your thighs was firm but careful, as his mouth moved up towards your underwear, his stubble scraping lightly against your skin, leaving a whisper of friction that only added to the tension that coiled deep in the core of your stomach. Your fingers tangled into his hair again, pulling gently, wordlessly begging him to continue. You could feel him smile against the skin of your inner thighs, enjoying how desperate you were becoming.

“Bucky.” You whispered, your voice breaking with such need that it almost burned through your body. He looked up at you, his darkened eyes gazing into your soul, reading you like you were an open book. His lips parted slightly as his right hand left the top of your thigh, skimming his fingers over the damped fabric of your underwear.

“So impatient.” He murmured, trying to keep his voice from wavering, attempting to keep the dominance in his tone, even though it was becoming harder and harder with every shaky breath you took. His lips brushed over the fabric, breathing out against your arousal as your thighs tightened on his neck, a soft moan escaping your throat.

“Bucky, please…” You begged, your fingers pulling on his hair, the teasing pushing you over the edge. A smirk ghosted across his lips at your pleas, and then with an agonizing slowness he hooked his fingers into the fabric of your underwear, dragging it gently to the side, baring you to him completely. His eyes flicked up to yours, his pupils blown out enough to where you were almost unable to see the ring of blue that surrounded it, and in that moment, you could see that he was as desperate as you were. Then finally, he pressed his mouth against you.

The first touch was barely there, a soft kiss placed deliberately beside where you needed him the most, to tease you, before his lips parted and his tongue dragged up your slit, not wanting to hinder himself any longer. Your head fell back against the pillow, a choked gasp escaping your lips at the sensation and warmth of his mouth wrapping around your clit, humming at the way your thighs flexed against his face, rubbing against his stubble. His tongue continued to circle against the bundle of nerves, his eyes burning into your skin, watching as you arched your back, grinding yourself on his mouth, wordlessly begging that you wanted more. His right hand slid up to your core, coating his fingers in your arousal before slipping two of them in with ease, looking at the way your mouth dropped open as he curled them inside you, finding a pace that matched the way his tongue worked against your clit.

Your fingers continued to tangle deeper into his hair, but before you could pull, his vibranium hand wrapped around one of your wrists, pulling it away gently, feeling him pin your arm down against the mattress beside you, sliding his fingers down to intertwine with yours. The contrast of the heat that was pooling in your stomach and the cold of his hand sent a shiver through you, heightening every moment, every touch, and every movement he made against you, unraveling you piece by piece.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, the pressure in your lower stomach growing unbearable, his increasing pace pushing you closer and closer to the edge. He could feel the way you clenched around his fingers, and how you trembled beneath him, rocking against his mouth.

”Bucky-“ His name left your lips in a strangled breath, your gaze returning to his, realizing that he had been watching you this entire time, enamoured by your body and the way it reacted to him. His grip on your hand tightened, grounding you to the moment, your legs clenching around his head again just as his tongue flattened against you and his fingers curled a little more inside you, picking up the pace. For a split second he took his mouth off you.

“Let go for me sweetheart.” He instructed, his voice laced with such need and devotion that you could feel your entire body tense up, feeling his mouth returning to your clit once again, his tongue working against you with such purpose that all the air in your lungs ceased to exist. Your thighs twitched against the sides of his head, his lips wrapping around your clit with a slow and deliberate pull, which caused the tension in your stomach to snap.

A sharp moan tore through you, as he pressed his face against you even more, allowing himself to feel the way you shuddered beneath him. The air crackled faintly, as static danced along your skin, noticing the way Bucky’s arm plates flickered a light blue for a brief moment. His grip on your hand tightened, and his movements didn’t falter, allowing himself to slow down just enough to guide you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, until your body finally relaxed against the mattress, utterly spent.

Gently he pulled away from your soaked core, pressing a wet kiss to the inside of your thigh, before removing his glistening fingers from you and sitting up slightly. His lips were slick with your arousal, and the expression on his face was something between pride and awe, as he crawled back on top of you, caging your body in his warmth.

“You were incredible.” He whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the sweet reminance of you being tasted on his tongue, “You did so good.” He added, bringing his fingers to your mouth, watching as you sucked the rest of your arousal off of them, your tongue carefully flicking against them.

“Christ.” Was all he could manage to say, as he slowly pulled his fingers from your mouth, letting them drag down your swollen lower lip, watching the saliva glisten over the reddened skin where you had been biting. The hard outline of him pressed against your thigh as he shifted above you, bringing his mouth to yours again, wanting to savour every kiss you gave him. His dog tags grazed the middle of your chest, cooling your overheated skin which now had a faint film of sweat forming on it, as you let out a soft moan when he rolled his hips against your aching heat, pressing hard so you could feel him. Bucky pulled away from the kiss, almost with a disappointed look on his face, a moment of realization shining in his eyes.

”Shit…Y/N I don’t have condoms.” He whispered, putting his forehead onto your collarbone, breathing heavily, trying to steady himself. You smirked at his despair, as you laced your fingers into his hair and tugged it so he could look at you.

”I have an implant, Bucky.” You informed, watching the relief wash over his face, a long sigh escaping his lips.

”Thank god.” Was all he could say before sitting back onto his knees, moving quickly to rid you of your underwear and himself of his cargo pants and boxers. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness as he shifted his weight to take everything off all at once, and also just enough to knock the first aid kit and the metal bowl of glass right off the bed.

The sharp clang causes the both of you to freeze, as Bucky’s eyes flicker over to the mess before returning to you, waiting for your reaction, watching your hand come up to cover your mouth to stop a laugh from escaping it.

“Real smooth.” You teased, hearing him let out a breathless chuckle.

”Not my best moment.” He admitted with a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his neck, bringing his hand over to touch your thigh. You reached up to wrap your hand around his forearm, before pulling him towards you.

”I find it kind of endearing that you’re all nervous and flustered.” He let out a quiet laugh, as he settled between your legs once again.

“You make it hard to keep my composure.” Your fingers skimmed up his arm, feeling his bicep twitching beneath your touch, while he adjusted himself against you, bringing his vibranium hand up to your throat to hold it gently, tilting your head up to meet his eyes before his mouth captured yours again in a hunger filled kiss, feeling your hips raising to meet his, in a silent plea. A low groan escaped him as his length grinded against your wet heat, attempting to hold himself back for just a few moments before he got lost in you. He pulls away from your lips again, leaning back so he can line himself up with you. Your eyes trail down to his cock, seeing that it’s already glistening with precum, the tip a light red, practically begging to be seated inside you. He’s way above average, and the way he pumps himself in his hand almost makes you come right then and there. He could see the lust in your eyes, the way your mouth opened just a little at the sight in front of you.

“You sure you can take me sweetheart? You’re already shaking.” He pointed out, a teasing smile coming up on his wet lips.

“I need you Bucky…Please…” The words fell from you in a whimper, as his vibranium hand slid from your throat to cup the side of your face.

“Okay, okay, I won’t tease you anymore…Relax for me.” He whispered, as he aligned himself with your entrance, coating himself in your arousal. You could feel yourself clench around nothing in anticipation for him, feeling as he gently pushed into you, the delicious stretch was just enough to make you gasp, and tighten around him, your eyes closing to take all the sensations in at once. Bucky leaned onto you, his lips brushing against yours.

”Look at me,” He ordered softly, “I want to see those pretty eyes while I’m inside you.” You moaned at his comment, bringing your half-lidded, pleasure hazed gaze up to meet his, as your jaw went slack, feeling him pushing deeper, inch by inch.

“That’s it,” He praised, “You’re taking me in so well, and you’re so fucking tight…All for me.” He was breathless, continuing to move slowly, his pelvis finally meeting yours when he bottomed out. He gave you a gentle kiss, like he was rewarding you for listening to him, a soft moan escaping your throat. Your walls fluttered around him as he drew back a bit before thrusting forward, hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur.

”Oh my god Bucky…” You whimpered, his hand coming up to hold just above your stabilizer, a smile coming up on his lips as he repeated the same motion, pulling the same reaction from you.

“There you go,” He coaxed, “That’s the spot, isn’t it?” You could only nod, your nails digging into his shoulders, dragging them down his back.

”Say it, sweetheart…Tell me how good it feels.” He whispers, his breath hitting your lips as he continues to move, pulling out just a little more, bringing his hips to yours again just a little harder, eliciting another gasp from throat.

”You feel s-so good.” Your words caught on the sheer pleasure of the way he filled you, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

”That’s my girl…You were made for this weren’t you?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear, savouring the way you writhed beneath him, reacting to his movements and words. He pressed another kiss to your lips, pulling his hand from your neck, and sliding it down between the both of you to press just above your pubic bone. The added pressure made every movement of his hips feel like explosions throughout your body.

“You feel that hmm? How deep I am inside of you?” Your walls clenched around him, as your eyes closed again, another strangled moan escaping into the room, your nails dragging across his skin again.

”Bucky, o-oh my god.” Was all you could manage to say, your legs locking around his waist, your abdomen tensing beneath his touch. He began to pick up the pace, the both of you exchanging breaths and gasps into each other's mouths, as he nipped at your bottom lip gently.

”You’re so fucking perfect.” He praised, feeling your fingers curl into his hair, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming heat of his body grinding into yours. His lips traveled along your jawline, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat, sucking the sensitive skin, putting a mark on a spot that would be visible to everyone, snapping his hips against yours, earning another cry from your lips.

“I love fucking hearing you.” He whispered, devouring every reaction you gave him, your walls clenching around him, throwing off his rhythm for a moment as he brought his face back up to yours. “You’re so fucking close, aren’t you?” He asked, watching you nod frantically, unable to focus on the task at forming words. He removed the pressure he was placing above your pubic bone, only to bring his fingers to your swollen clit, pressing against it. Your body arched against his, as he began to draw tight, slow circles around the bundle of nerves.

”Come for me Y/N…Let me feel it.” His voice cracked, his breath ragged. Before your brain could even register his words the pleasure ripped through you, as your body shook beneath his, your nails now digging into his flesh, causing him to gasp at the sharp sting. Your vision was blurred, and you could’ve sworn you felt a few tears fall out of the corners of your eyes as you clenched down harder on his cock, another static pulse igniting from you, wrapping around Bucky’s arm and fading out quickly. He kissed you again, consuming you completely, bringing his hand back up to your neck just to hold it, feeling your pulse beneath his fingertips, picking up the speed of his thrusts, the pace becoming rougher and more desperate. You grabbed onto his vibranium hand, gasping for air.

”I’m gonna fill you up so much that I’m gonna be dripping out of you for days.” He growled, tightening his grip on your hand, as the burning tension in him finally snapped, the hand on your neck tightening for a brief moment, his body stiffening above you. He let out a long groan against your lips as he spilled into you, bucking his hips towards yours to push the warmth of him deeper inside, fulfilling his promise. The weight of him sank against you as his head dropped to the crook of your neck, kissing any portion of skin that he could reach.

A minute passed, maybe more, as the both of you laid there, catching your breath, while he softened inside you. He kept his hand at your neck, his thumb idly tracing over your pulse, while his vibranium fingers remained intertwined with yours, not wanting to pull away just yet. You tilted your head back against the pillow, as you let out a breathless laugh, breaking the silence that had settled between you. Bucky lifted his head slightly, eyebrows raised, his lips twitching at the corners.

”What’s funny?” He asked, as you turned your head to look at him, amusement dancing within your tired eyes.

”That tone you were using was so fucking hot.” You could see he was amused by your admission.

”Really?” He asked, his smirk growing wider and wider.

”Yeah…I mean I knew you could be confident, but that? Holy shit Bucky.” He laughed at the way you were rambling.

”I didn’t know you liked being talked through it like that, I was just kind of filling the silence.” He responded, watching as your eyebrows raised.

”THAT was filling the silence?!” He shrugged.

”Just got creative. It was really easy too, cause you looked so pretty under me.” He complimented, pressing a kiss against your lips, you hummed.

”Well consider me very appreciative of your sudden creativity.” You murmured.

”I guess I’ll have to add it to my sex repertoire for next time.” You raised your eyebrows at him.

”You want there to be a next time?” He laughed at your shock, as his hand tightened around yours.

”Oh Y/N, if you give me a few minutes to recover that next time will come really quickly.” He commented, earning a loud laugh from you.

[rafesangelita]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 tipsy kook!sweetheart!reader getting handsy with rafe and even though he likes her sm, he takes her home and makes sure she’s safe 🥺

warnings: alcohol consumption, flirting, reader is v handsy lol (rafe loves it though)

you were such a lightweight, you knew having another drink wasn’t the smartest choice. after one shot and downing a margarita like it was a slushy, you found yourself dancing with your girlfriends in the middle of topper’s living room. rafe watched you from afar, his tongue running across his teeth as your skirt rode up your thighs.

“when are you giving that poor man a chance?” your friend giggled in your ear, making your eyebrows knit in confusion. “who?” you looked around, immediately spotting rafe in the corner. it was like he was trying to tempt you with the way he was manspreading, the thin material of his t-shirt doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath it.

“i don’t know..” you smiled at him, heart fluttering in your chest when he sent you a wink before bringing his cup up to his lips. “i think i’m gonna go say hi—” your friend attempted to pull you back, but you were already well on your way. “hi, rafe!” you chirped, your skin flushed due to the alcohol in your system.

he gazed up at you, your eyes twinkling underneath the soft lighting. “hey, sweetheart. you look pretty.” you did a spin for him, adjusting the small purse on your shoulder. “is this seat taken?” rafe shook his head, motioning towards the empty spot next to him. instead of sitting on the couch, you got comfortable in his lap, making him curse under his breath.

“well this works too.” he laughed, draping an arm across your waist. you blinked slowly, resting your head on his chest as you stroked the underside of his jaw. “i like your arms,” you whispered, “and your face..” rafe hummed, taking your hand in his own. “yeah? i like your face, too.” he cooed, adjusting your skirt so no one else can see the color of your underwear.

“take me home.” rafe nodded. “of course, i wouldn’t want you getting in an uber like this.” he took a sip from his drink, nearly choking when he felt your fingertips tug at the belt loops of his jeans. “no. take me home, rafe.” at first he didn’t understand, but when he saw you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, it was a look he knew all too well.

“what did you have to drink?” desperate to divert your tipsy mind elsewhere, rafe moved your hand away from his lower half. of course, he failed, only making you peck his cheek instead. rafe’s sanity was hanging on by a thread. your lips were soft against his skin, your perfume smelled so sweet, and worst of all, your ass sat perfectly where he needed you most.

“umm- i can’t really remember..” you trailed off, shrugging before nuzzling your nose into his neck. “fuck.” he said through gritted teeth, deciding he better get you back to your place before anything escalated. “come on, let’s get you home.” he helped you up, holding onto you tightly as he lead you two out of topper’s house.

you were laughing the whole way to rafe’s truck, a squeal leaving your lips when he hoisted you up into the passenger’s seat. somehow during the duration of the ride to your house, you managed to kick your feet up on rafe’s lap, humming sweetly to the most disgusting lyrics playing out of his speakers.

once you two pulled into your driveway, you let him carry you over his shoulder, too tired to protest otherwise. “are your parents home?” he put you down momentarily to grab the key from under the welcome mat. “of course not.” you yawned, sighing in relief once he got the door open. rafe watched you kick your heels off, tiptoeing to the couch before face planting into the cushions.

eyes trailing down your body, he looked away when he got to the bottom of your ass cheeks shamelessly peeking out from underneath your skirt. grabbing the blanket closest to your sleeping figure, he covered you, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you stirred lightly, melting into his touch. the longer he stayed, the harder it was for him to leave.

“alright.” he groaned quietly, sparing you one more glance before locking the door behind him. he made a mental note to call you and check on you first thing in the morning.

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐣𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠

brother's best friend!jay x fem!reader

୨୧ genre: smut, MDNI! | words: 4.3k | cw: mean!jay, brat!reader, a looot of bickering lol, slight degradation, jay is a little manipulative, nipple play?, oral (f & m receiving, head pusher!jay), unprotected sex (hell no), creampie (+ lmk if i missed anything!!) ୨୧

hanna says: biggest thank you to my favorite jay girly, my other half and the one who motivated me to start writing on here in the first place. thank you for proofreading a lot and for letting me yap 24/7, this one's for you mwah @brklynbabyjay

mature content under cut, minors do NOT interact!

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2:47am, your phone read when you grabbed it with a sigh after tossing and turning in your bed for what felt like an eternity. the heat in your room felt oppressing – the flimsy sheets might as well have been a double blanket and your pajamas felt like a winter coat despite barely covering any skin.

with a sigh, you got up from bed and tiptoed to the kitchen. with each step down the stairs you felt the air getting just a little cooler and your tense muscles relaxing just a little more.

you flicked on the light above the sink, before grabbing a glass from the top shelf. it slipped right through your sweaty palms and landed directly in the sink before you could catch it. it didn't break, but the noise cut through the silence of the night so loudly and suddenly that you were sure it could have woken up at least half of the neighborhood.

"fuck," you whispered to yourself, wiping off your sweaty palms on your silky shorts and carefully grabbing the glass from the sink.

just as you thought no one had heard your little accident, a sudden, sleep-laced voice broke the silence again and startled you to a point you almost dropped the glass another time.

"are you kidding me?"

you didn't have to turn around to know it was jay's oh so humble self standing in the kitchen door.

"enlighten me, what's your problem this time?" you asked, although you knew the answer. you kept your back to him as you filled the glass with ice cubes and cold water, waiting for him to reply.

jay's jaw clenched at your words. you had woken him up, just as he'd fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning on the sofa, trying to somehow ignore the heat that pressed down on him like a weight too heavy to carry. and now you had the audacity to ask stupid questions?

"it took me forever to fall asleep and you wake me up cause you can't even hold onto a glass?" he snapped. his voice sounded less sleepy now – still raspy but regaining the usual edge he had to it whenever he was talking to you.

he was your brother's best friend and you'd known him since forever. you were sure the two of you had gotten along back then, when jake brought him over for the first time – sometime in his first year of high school when you were still in middle school. but just a little later, he'd started to pick fights with you every chance he got, which eventually led to him mostly ignoring you, and if he did talk to you, his voice always had that annoyed undertone.

for a moment, you didn't say anything, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip, letting the cold run down your throat and hoping it would somehow also cool off the anger that started to bubble up in your chest.

as you stayed silent, jay's gaze remained on you, only now noticing the light blue silk pajamas you were wearing. they were unnervingly short – more skin than fabric, really – and it annoyed him even more how the shorts outlined your ass perfectly, your plush cheeks just slightly exposed from how little coverage the piece of clothing provided.

when you finally turned around, his eyes shot up to your face immediately. you took in the sight in front of you: jay's messy hair and the way his shirt clung to his torso a little more than it usually would – you were pleased to see that he was suffering from the summer heat as much as you were.

"well," you broke the staring contest between the two of you, involuntarily trying to look meaner than the other, "if you didn't sleep in my living room, maybe you wouldn't have to bother me."

jay's eyebrows shot up at your remark. "or if you were a decent person for once and weren't so inconsiderate–"

"i'm inconsiderate?" you interrupted him. "that's rich coming from someone who moved in here two weeks ago and thinks he can make the rules," you huffed.

jay's jaw clenched another time as he took a step toward you, but you didn't back down. you looked up at him, returning the same fiercey look he gave you.

"you think it's fun living with you of all people?" he asked through gritted teeth, his taller figure hovering over you.

"no, but it's not my fault your girlfriend kicked you out," you replied, keeping your voice steady although your heart started to pound in your chest at the way his eyes narrowed slightly. yet, a tiny pang of amusement at how your words seemed to affect him joined the nervousness of wondering how far you could push him before he snapped.

oh, now you were curious.

"honestly, i'm not surprised," you added, your voice not faltering even when he stepped so close your bodies practically touched. "if you were only half as much of an asshole–"

"shut. up." he snapped, accenting each word.

the corners of your lips shot up into a smug grin. "can't stand me talking back to you?"

"i can't stand you in total."

"i never would have guessed," you replied sarcastically, taking a step back to casually lean your back against the kitchen counter. you brought the glass of water up to your neck letting the cold condensed water on its outside cool your skin. "wonder why you hate me so much, though. i don't remember pissing in your cereal when we were kids."

jay's jaw tightened even more. he was so annoyed. there you were, standing in the stupid kitchen with your stupidly short pajamas showing way too much of your skin that looked so. stupidly. soft. and you were bashing him, although he should be the one to talk you down right now. god, he couldn't stand you and how fucking hot you looked when you were snappy.

"you just make it hard not to," he replied, his voice laced with more annoyance than you'd ever heard from him before.

you chuckled at his words, the sound making his blood boil even more. what was so funny about him being annoyed, borderline angry?

"listen, jay bae," you said sarcastically as you put the glass down on the counter behind you, "if you want to stay with me and jake, you'll stop acting like i'm some kind of tragedy. you either ignore me, or you at least pretend to get along with me. deal?"

for a few moments, he just looked at you, his eyes still full of frustration. then, he suddenly stepped forward, his hand reaching for the back of your neck and his lips crashing onto yours harshly.

you were too shocked by his sudden action and the rush of warmth flooding through you to react. he pulled back just as quickly as he'd leaned in, leaving your lips cold with the shadow of his, and looked at you as if searching your eyes for a reaction.

"what the fuck?" you asked, still taken aback.

you wanted to take a step back, but the kitchen counter was already pressing against your back. jay smirked at the shocked expression on your face.

"i said shut up," he repeated his words from earlier that night, as if that would suddenly validate that he'd kissed you. he placed his hands on the counter directly next to your body, trapping you between him and the cold marble surface.

"you don't get to–"

he leaned in again, his lips brushing along the curve of your neck. you felt his breath against your skin, and despite the heat he radiated, you shivered – your words caught in your throat.

you could have pushed him away – should have pushed him away, really – but instead, you stood there, too stunned to move, with your heart violently pounding in your chest.

his hands found their way from the kitchen counter to your hips, fingertips pressing into your clothed skin in a way that made you almost feel his frustration.

the warmth of his breath brushed against your neck, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes. you could feel your breath coming faster and your mind growing foggy as his lips traced a line to your collarbone, leaving a heat that shot right down to your core.

“w-what are you doing?” your voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it was enough to make him pause.

"pretending that we get along," his lips brushed against your neck as he replied.

your breath hitched as he slid one of his hands under the thin fabric of your silk top, his fingers digging into the skin on your waist as he held you.

you wanted to push him away, really. everything told you to do so. but instead your hand found its way to the back of his head, pushing him towards your neck again. you couldn't make sense of it, but the way his lips brushed harshly against your skin, and the way you fisted his hair slightly whenever his teeth grazed against your skin, felt like you could finally let out the frustration that had been building up over the past two weeks of living with him.

"you're so goddamn annoying," he mumbled, pulling away from your neck only to push your top up your torso, over your head, and mindlessly discarded it on the floor.

just as you were about to cover your bare skin, he attached his lips to it again, moving from your neck to your collarbones and down to your chest. his hands found their way to your shoulders, holding you in place as he sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and causing you to shiver, despite the hot summer air. you bit your lip to hold back a moan, yet you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of his tongue against you.

"speechless suddenly?" he asked as he pulled off and brought his lips to the other side of your chest.

"fuck you," you mumbled back before quickly pressing your lips together. your fingers were still tangled in his hair, keeping him close to you, but you would not give him the satisfaction of a moan.

"a little more patience," he grinned, before swirling his tongue around your sensitive skin another time.

his words suddenly made you hyperaware of the situation. you shouldn't have let him kiss you in the first place, much less help him to take off your top by voluntarily lifting up your arms. as the realization hit, you quickly pulled him off of you.

"you're disgusting," you said, trying your best to not sound as breathless as you felt.

"oh please," he grabbed your wrist to hold you in place as you attempted to pick up your shirt, "the way you're acting, you're practically asking for it."

"asking?" you echoed in disbelief. he was insufferable. "you have too much of an ego, don't you think?"

jay narrowed his eyes. "no, i think it's the truth," he said, letting go of your wrist and leaning down to your neck another time.

you swallowed hard. "stop playing games, jay," you said in a warning tone, yet you didn't push him away as his teeth grazed your skin again.

"you started the 'game', and you're losing it, darling," he replied, the nickname dripping with sarcasm.

you hated to admit he was right. maybe it was just your sleep-deprived mind, or maybe it was cause the air was so unnervingly thin, but his touch sent shiver after shiver down your spine, covering you in goosebumps and sending waves of heat through your body all at once. even his annoying words started settling between your legs and no matter how much you pressed your things together, it just wouldn't stop.

"look at you," jay said in an amused tone as his eyes flicked down to your legs, your thighs subconsciously rubbing against each other, "bet you soaked your pretty panties for me and i didn't even touch you."

a wave of heat shot up to your face. you didn't know if it was from embarassment or anger, but you didn't bother trying to hide it. "oh please, jay, you couldn't even make me cum if your life depended on it," you said, the words slipping past your lips before you could stop them.

he looked up, his eyes flashing with something you didn't understand as they met yours. "bet," was all he said before sliding your flimsy shorts down your legs, making sure to cup and squeeze your ass just once after he'd taken them off.

before you could react, he knelt down in front of you, harshly grabbed your thighs to spread your legs, and pressed his tongue flat against your clothed core.

your knees buckled slightly at the sudden contact, and you swore you could feel jay's stupid grin. "like i said. soaked." he murmured as he pulled the wet piece of fabric to the side.

"shut up," you whispered, not quite trusting your voice when the way you felt his breath against your wet core already caused you to clench around nothing.

"someone's sensitive," he whispered back, the airflow hitting your skin yet again.

"i said shut up," you repeated, and without wasting another thought, you grabbed his hair and harshly pulled him to where you needed him the most.

jay immediately licked a stripe along your folds, humming in satisfaction. "mouth so dirty but your pussy's so sweet," he mumbled against your skin before focusing his tongue on your clit.

your eyes fluttered shut, only to open again shortly after, as you failed to suppress a quiet moan. the sound went straight to jay's cock, causing him to hum against you another time as he sped up his movements, eager to pull another moan out of you.

he succeeded when he pushed his tongue into your leaking hole and his nose brushed against your clit. you sounded so sweet, he could cum only listening to you – but he'd never admit that.

you pulled on his hair harsher, subconsciously bucking your hips forward for him to reach deeper, as your legs started to shake more. jay grabbed one of them and rested it on his shoulder, never stopping to lap up everything your cunt gave him.

just as you felt your orgasm approaching, your legs closing around jay's head with a force that almost made him dizzy, he pulled back.

your eyes shot open and you looked down to him with an almsot bewildered expression on your face. he looked so hot with your slick covering his lips, his chin and parts of his nose, but right now you really just wanted to punch that stupid grin off his lips.

"seriously?" you asked as he stood up and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. "i was so close to–"

"so i could make you cum," he cut you off with the same annoying grin.

you didn't reply. instead, you tried to bend down to grab your clothes from the kitchen floor, but jay held your wrist again.

as he didn't let go even after you'd shot him a glare, you rolled your eyes. "congratulations, jay. do you want a trophy for your efforts? i didn't think you were so committed to win the gold medal in orgasm delivery–"

"shut up, will you?" jay interrupted, the smirk quickly replaced by his usual annoyed demeanor. "you're playing so hard to get when–"

"maybe you're just hard to want," you cut him off again, but he only raised his eyebrows.

"right," he replied, sliding one finger through your folds and collecting your wetness, the sudden contact drawing a surprised whimper from you. you quickly bit your lip, mentally cursing yourself for letting the sound slip.

"doesn't seem like 'hard to want'."

you glared at him for a moment, before averting your gaze. without another word, jay grabbed your arms and turned both of you around so he was standing with his back against the counter and you were in front of him.

before you could open your mouth to speak, jay placed his hands on your shoulders and firmly pressed down, causing you to sink to your knees in front of him.

"so much talking when you could just put that damn mouth of yours to use," he murmured.

the words made you gulp, but for some reason, they also sent a new wave of excitement through you.

one of his hands moved to cup your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "let's see if you can only talk big or if you're actually useful for something, hm?" he asked, the tone of his voice almost soft.

the question annoyed you as much as it challenged you. eager to prove him wrong, you hooked your fingers under the waistband of his shorts, pulling them and his boxers down in one go, and only hesitating slightly when his hard cock sprang free.

"backing down?" jay cooed, his thumb gently caressing your cheek.

you didn't reply, just wrapped one hand around his length, gliding your thumb over his leaking slit to use the precum as lubricant, before slowly pumping your hand up and down.

jay hissed at the contact, his hand tightening around your chin and the other gripping the counter behind him to steady himself.

his reaction made your lips curl up in a victorious smile, but you knew you could do better. you stopped your movements, waited for him to look down at you with a puzzled face, and licked a stripe from his base up to his very top. you closed your lips around it and swirled your tongue just for a second before releasing it again while looking up at him through your lashes.

jay groaned quietly, his hand leaving your chin and finding its way to the back of your head instead, where he gathered your hair in a makeshift ponytail before pushing your head closer to him again. his other hand reached to tap on your lips, which you wordlessly parted just enough to close them around his tip again.

jay pushed your head closer, letting you take his length into your mouth – inch by inch until you gagged around him and he grinned smugly.

"can't take more?" he teased, but you were determined to wipe that damn grin off his face.

you breathed in through your nose and moved your head forward in one go until your nose hit his pelvis and you could feel his tip against the back of your throat, swallowing around it to suppress another gag.

the feeling drew a surprised moan from jay that caused you to look up at him with teary eyes. you swallowed again, humming in satisfaction as you received the same reaction.

"c-can't believe you're actually good at something," jay stammered. "do that again."

you obeyed, the feeling causing his eyes to flutter shut and his head to shoot back with another quiet moan.

he slowly pulled your head off his cock only to harshly push it back forward again after you'd swirled your tongue around his tip. he continued, his movements growing faster and rougher as his hips started to thrust forward every time he brought your head close – hitting the back of your throat each time, while you tried your best to not gag and he tried his best to not moan too loudly, not wanting jake to hear.

your hands reached to grab his thighs, attempting to somehow ground yourself when he slammed his hips forward another time. your jaw was tense, your eyes were burning from the tears that dared to roll down your cheeks, your head hurt from the force with which jay pulled your hair together, and yet all you could think about was finally making him cum and proving him wrong.

as his hips stuttered and his breaths started coming ragged, he held you in place, your nose pressed against his abdomen and the tip of his cock against the back of your throat. you eagerly hollowed your cheeks and swallowed again, pushing him over the edge.

"stay there," he ordered in between quiet moans. you felt his cock twitching as ropes of his cum ran down your throat. you quickly swallowed, yet couldn't stop a little from running down your chin as he finally pulled off.

you quickly wiped your chin with the back of your hand and stood up on shaky legs, shivering at how your arousal made your thighs stick together.

jay looked at you, his chest still rising and falling quickly. "hard to want, hm?"

"my god, fine. just fuck me already," you replied, your voice laced with frustration, which caused his lips to curl up into a little smile.

he turned you around and firmly pressed his hand on your back to guide your chest down onto the cool marble countertop.

"beg for it," he said in the most casual way possible.

you turned your head back and looked at him in disbelief. "seriously now?" you tried to stand up straight, not willing to feed his enormous ego more by begging, but his hand stayed firm on your back as his other slowly pumped his cock a few times before he guided his tip up and down your sensitive folds.

you clenched your fists, trying to move your hips back against his, but jay stepped back.

"i said beg for it," he repeated sternly.

when you hesitated, he lifted his hand from your back, attempting to step away fully. you squinted your eyes and mumbled out a quiet "please." you felt the embarrassment wash over you, but you just really wanted to finally feel him.

"what was that?" jay asked, stepping closer again.

you sighed. "please, jay," you repeated, still quiet but a little clearer than before. a hint of relief rushed through you as you felt jay's hand on your back and the tip of his cock against your needy hole again.

"please what?"

srew that. you were desperate but not desperate enough to ruin your pride entirely.

"you know what, fuck off, i–"

the words caught in your throat as jay suddenly pushed his entire length into your aching hole, knocking the air out of you. the stretch was so intense that you desperately searched for something to hold onto, but jay didn't give you any time to adjust as he pulled out almost entirely only to snap his hips forward harshly again, drawing a chocked moan from you when his tip hit your cervix.

"gonna finally put you in your fucking place," he said, hissing at the way your walls sucked him in so perfectly with each thrust.

"j-jay..." you whimpered once the pain gave way to pleasure, hating yourself for giving in to him, but also not caring enough to make him stop.

he groaned lowly at the way his name rolled off your tongue, mixing perfectly with the sounds of your wetness and his skin slapping against yours.

"takin' me so well," he mumbled in between his thrusts. you felt so warm and tight around him, the moans you tried to muffle clouding his mind until there was nothing left but you and the way you felt.

the sudden praise caused you to clench around him involuntarily. his hands moved to grab your hips, holding you in place as he continued to pound into you. he looked down to where your bodies connected, watching as his cock disappeared in your pretty cunt with each thrust.

"you're so stupid," he muttered, slipping back into the way he alway spoke to you, "for ever letting other idiots have their way with you when i was right there all the time," he blabbered out, slamming his hips into yours even harder.

you wanted to speak back, but each thrust knocked the air out of your lungs all over again as you placed your hands on top of his to somehow ground yourself.

"so tight for me," he mumbled at the way your walls clenched around him the closer you came to your high. "mhh, so wet"

"o-only for you," you managed to slur, way too far gone to realize what you'd just said, only focusing on the tight knot in your stomach that was dangerously close to snapping.

"jay, i-", you cut off as your orgasm washed over you in waves, each feeling heavier than the one before. jay brought one of his hands to your mouth to cover it, muffling your moans as his own high hit him at how strongly you clenched down on him.

you felt his cock twitching inside you before the warm ropes of his cum painted your walls white. he thrusted into you a few more times, sloppy and less energetic, riding out his high, before coming to a halt.

he took a few seconds to catch his breath. then, he quickly pulled out of you, the sudden feeling making you hiss. as you slowly lifted your chest from the counter, turning around on wobbly knees, jay had already pulled up his shorts again.

he bent down, picked up your pajamas and threw them in your direction. you caught them, wordlessly putting them back on as the reality of what had just happened started to crash down on you.

jay walked past you, opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, before giving you one last glance and heading toward the door.

"wait," you held him back. he turned around to look at you, raising his eyebrow in question.

"what," you hesitated, "what... are we doing now?" you asked, averting your eyes and looking at the floor in front of you instead.

jay shrugged. "pretending that it never happened," he said casually before walking out the door.

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

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[gatorbites-imagines]

Ok so I know you said you have been unmotivated with smut lately, but you don't have to write this if you don't want to. But basically it's Scott summers x male reader where they are best friends, maybe they have some secret feelings that they have never confessed too. So male reader decided so bite the bullet and confess with out confessing, and is like " you know a few bounces on it never hurt a friendship", ( lol like the meme) and smut ensues.

Scott Summers x Mutant male reader

Headcanons

Readers got electrokinetic and magnetic powers, because I couldn’t think of anything original, and ice powers are already yoinked up by Bobby. So, ice cold head is gonna be saved for another day.

I feel like my Scott obsession shines through in this… enjoy some longer work

Feedback wasn’t the most original or coolest sounding name, but hey, it had been Scott’s idea, and you had a soft spot for him from the very beginning. So, Feedback it was. Seeing how Scott puffs up a little when you explain he came up with the name almost makes up for Logan picking on you for it.

Being great friends with Scott, makes most people assume you are a hardass like him. And yeah, you have your moments. You see how much Scott stressed about keeping everyone safe, as well as dealing with the US government and the likes, so yes, you take it seriously.

Your lightning powers lead you to also bond with Ororo, though you are not completely at her level. You cant control the weather, but you sure as hell can use electricity and lightning, and you’ve learned how useful it can be.

It took a lot of training, but who else can paralyze a person without it being lethal as easily as you can? Or fry most electronics or vehicles, even guns and other weapons? You are at least a little proud of your powers.

And maybe it has to do with the fact that Scott always seemed to preen, at least a little, with pride whenever you show how far you’ve come. You are the exact same with him, and your “broship” is kind of a thing in the X-men

To the point where the entire mansion, or island if its on Krakoa, get tense and start tiptoeing around when you two are fighting or arguing. Seeing you two not talking and avoiding each other is as uncomfortable as seeing Deadpool around, except its worse.

It always leads to some of the others, typically the younger mutants, trying to set up some kind of heist you get you two to get along again. Most of the times it fails, but the failure is what brings you together again, in a sense.

You also typically give Scott small zaps with your powers, to get his mind off whatever he’s too focused on. or the times where he lets you run light electricity through his muscles when they bunch up. Him groaning and huffing in relief is only an extra on top of the cake, since you already get to fondle his back.

Your feelings for Scott aren’t as much of a secret as you wish they were. Charles knew almost the very moment he met you. Apparently, you used to project your thoughts quite a lot, and he was growing tired of seeing your fantasies.

After that you got better at hiding. You especially worked hard to suppress and hide it when Scott got together with Jean. Yeah, it hurt your heart, but you never really thought you two would be more than bros.

But to show Jean some respect, you get less touchy and grabby with Scott. In the past you might have smacked his ass after training, or groped his pecs and arms, making some excuse about his gains. But with Scott in a relationship, it didn’t feel right.

Scott did the same thing with you, but… it was only because you did it first, right? So, its not like hed notice. Obviously, he does, Scott being so vigilant about the people around him means it takes him less than a month to be completely sure you’re avoiding him.

That doesn’t mean he says anything. Instead, he just kinda lets it stew. The relationship between you grows… tense in a way. Its not like you two are arguing, but you are trying to pull away enough to wash away whatever feelings you have, and Scott is sure you hate him for some reason, and he doesn’t know why.

In the end its actually Jean that confronts you about it, much to your embarrassment. She’s surprisingly kind about it, or you guessed it wasn’t surprising. Jeans an amazing woman, which was why it was no shock she swooped in and caught Scott’s heart.

Jean knows all about your feelings, but also Scotts. Scott loves her, very much so. But he loves you just as much, he just hasn’t realized it yet. Scott easily just pushes those feelings aside as platonic, or some deep loyalty to his best friend.

So, what if he sometimes has dreams about you holding him down and fucking him so hard he needs his visor, since his shades would be sent flying. Or his regular dream of you using small sparks of electricity to play with him.

But somehow Jean saves the situation. Being able to read minds is great, since it makes her feel safe and secure in her relationship, enough to know that you are both good men, and that you’d never act on your feelings with her in the picture.

This is how it continues for a while. Scotts with Jean, and you have some flings of your own. Over the years you kind of have a thing with Logan, then Warren, and a kind of “ill scratch your itch if you scratch mine” with Remy when he and Anne Marie have their moments.

And yeah, maybe there’s a couple of others on that list that you don’t speak too much about it. Its not your fault Deadpool can be weirdly charming and handsome sometimes. And that one time with Magneto is not something you’ll ever mention, to anybody. You get a feeling Charles knows about it though. You have a feeling Magneto told him.

All in all, you never end up with a long lasting “official” relationship. Its kind of hard to give your heart to someone else when Scott still has his name printed across it in big letters. You’re not like Scott, whose heart is big enough to fit multiple people

What you have with other people is always just casual and never means anything. Well, you do get closer to Logan. Its… a weird situation. He still has a thing for Jean, and you have a thing for Scott, and you help each other out when times get tough.

You thought Scott was gonna kill you when he caught you chewing on a cigar. It’s not like you were gonna smoke it, but seeing him huffing and puffing about you chewing on one of Logans cigars made your pants a bit too tight for comfort.

It really doesn’t help that Scott bulks up over the years. Logan may still call him slim, but there’s nothing slim about him. So, there might be more grope to the smacks you give his ass sometimes, how can you not, it’s so… grabble.

And you are always too distracted by his just… soft and big he is back there, hes even got butt dimples man. It means you never notice how Scott might just arch his hips back a little, or the way his thighs twitch when the excess electricity runs from your fingers into his skin.

Sure, him for thinking about those fingers inside him, its normal. He thinks. Its not his fault you have really nice hands, and the way electricity crinkles around your fingers is way too hot sometimes.

You once licked the electricity off your fingers, the sparks jumping from your fingers to your tongue. Scott knows its just for fun, or be a dick, but god does his front and back twitch think about it.

How you confess can happy in many ways. But the main factor is that Scott and Jean are no more. Maybe shes died, like she does in some comics. Or maybe they just broke up since they grew apart.

But one way or another you just confess. Maybe its after one of your rolls in the hay with Logan, and Scott finally doesn’t have Jean to redirect his attention too and his jealousy boils over. It leads to an argument, with you just spilling that you slept about because you couldn’t have him.

It hurts, after the confession leaves you. You’ve kept it tight inside you for years at this point, and seeing Scott just freeze up makes you feel even worse. You just get your keys into your hands with a flick of magnetic energy, before Scotts upon you.

The floors really uncomfortable, and the air is knocked out of your chest, especially as he places his bulk on top of you, Scotts hands on either side of your head.

Even with the visor giving off its usual red glow, Scott couldn’t get more handsome. The quiver in his lip and how he keeps nipping at its insides. “Scott…” you breath out, hands twitching at your sides, wanting nothing more than to settle on his nice, plush with muscle, hips.

Kissing Scott was everything you had ever imagined, and more. He tasted like the coffee hed been drinking, the brand you always hated but still bought because it was Scott’s favorite. The one he would always brew too strong, and never add any sugar or creamer too.

And yet, as his tongue rolled against your own, you couldn’t think of anything more delicious. It felt more like you two were trying to eat each other, to see who could devour the other one first after being starved for so long.

Any other time you might have been embarrassed about how wet and slick your kissing was, and just how loud it was. It seemed to ring through the empty room, Scotts hands already pulling at your shirt as you allow yourself to truly grope and feel that plump ass of his.

Youd touched Scott many times before. Hell, you’d even touched him naked here and there. But those times had been for medical reasons, or that one time to keep hypothermia at bay. This felt so much more intimate, so much… more.

The lamps in the room flickered as Scott pushed himself up to get fully undressed, your irises lighting up as you finally got to just stare. He was so hard, and with him standing above you he felt like a god, in his own way. You must have said this out loud, since Scott blushed and dragged you up.

It felt like being a virgin again, tumbling into bed and kicking off what clothes you had left on, hands groping and exploring. When it came to men, you had a lot more experience. You honestly only had experience with men.

That didn’t mean you almost didn’t bust on the spot when Scott sat himself down in your lap again, nothing between him and your cock. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel how his ass just draped around you, the smirk on Scotts lips so cocky you almost wanted to smack him.

With that thought, your body seemed to respond. Youd never really shot electricity from your crotch before, but the loud high-pitched yelp from Scott told you just that had happened.

You immediately wanted to apologize, fearing you had ruined the mood. A violent shudder ran through Scotts body, a deeper more guttural groan leaving his body as he rocked against you, precum spilling from him like a faucet. That had felt better than hed ever imagined.

The world felt like it was shrinking more and more until all you could think of was Scott Summers, and how felt against you. How he felt around your fingers as you stretch him open, and the loud wails of want he lets out, when you let the smallest flickers of electricity zap from your fingers to his prostate.

Youd always had a code of sorts, that your partner at least had to finish once, preferably twice, before you would enter them, or let them enter you. And with Scott it was so easy to wring them out of him. You almost wanted to just keep milking him for all he was worth.

Recognizing the look in your eyes, at least somewhat, had Scott tapping his foot against your tip, which was enough to remind you of how hard you really were, and how sensitive.

It gave Scott enough time to flip you onto your back, and with a recklessness you wouldn’t see from him every day, he just sank down on you.

All that working out made it easy for Scott to ride you, his thighs and hips working in harmony, his fingers digging into your pecs as you both groan and huff, letting out noises neither of you had ever let out before.

Kissing Scott as he rode you was a pretty name for it. in reality it was more just your open mouths pressed together as you both panted and drooled, tongues just rubbing together every now and then.

Having edged yourself until now meant you didn’t last long. As Scott shoved you over the edge your vision went white, and you had a feeling the popping noises you heard were the lightbulbs around the room.

It felt like Scott was draining your very soul of your body through your dick, his behind was diabolical. Part of you wanted to joke about him doing some other kind of training without telling you, but your teeth still felt like they were made of static, so all you could do was groan and gasp.

The high-pitched noises from Scotts mouth still registered to your fuzzy hearing, and the splatters of white against your torso made something inside you settle, knowing he had finished too.

The air was knocked out of your chest again as Scott slumped against you like a puppet getting its strings cut. The only noise in the room was the sound of your shared panting and wheezing, as well as the faint buzz of the ruined lightbulbs.

“you’re paying for that…” Scott finally mumbles breathlessly against the side of your neck. A snort leaves you, head still feeling like a thunderstorm and tv-static as you work your arms shakily around him. “Fine… but I’m picking the brand” you reply, voice slurred and tongue floppy in ways you hadn’t experienced in years.

Scott clearly wanted to laugh at your state, but he wasn’t much better himself. He couldn’t feel his legs, and it wasn’t completely because of the zap of electricity you’d sent through his entire body, as much as it was just how good it had felt.

You both needed to cool down, and maybe a nap. And then a good, long, cold shower. Scott lazily mentally noted down that he needed new sheets and lightbulbs, but not much else happened. For once his head felt blissfully silent, in the way only you could make it.

[777bae]

THE MISSING PIECE WILL SMITH

Summary :: You and Will grew up together, sharing everything from street hockey games to late-night skates. But as the years passed, something shifted, and Will started looking for love in all the wrong places. It takes him years—and a few broken hearts—to realize that the one he’s been searching for was right there all along. (REQUESTED :: prompt 13)

Warnings :: angst with eventual comfort/fluff, unrequited love, childhood friends to lovers, two idiots in love

Word count :: 15.9k (i got very carried away lol)

The town you grew up in was small, the kind of place where nothing ever really changed. The streets were lined with old maple trees whose leaves turned the sidewalks gold in autumn, and whose branches stood bare and elegant against the sky in winter. The houses were familiar, most of them passed down through generations, and the people—even more so.

Everyone knew everyone. The local diner had the same waitresses taking the same orders year after year. The corner store was run by a man who still remembered what kind of candy you liked when you were seven. Summers smelled like fresh-cut grass and barbecue smoke, the air thick with the sound of cicadas and the occasional crack of a baseball bat from the little league field down the road. Autumns came with crisp air and the crunch of fallen leaves beneath your boots, the excitement of Halloween lingering in the air even after the candy was gone.

And then there was winter.

Winter belonged to the ice.

It started in December, when the temperature dropped low enough that the ponds froze solid and the snowbanks grew taller than you. The town came alive in a different way then—driveways filled with kids playing street hockey, backyard rinks lit up under the glow of porch lights, the sharp sound of skates carving across ice. It was cold, sometimes too cold, but it didn’t matter. Not when there was hockey. Not when there was him.

Will had lived next door to you since the day you were born. His house sat close enough that if you stood on your tiptoes at your bedroom window, you could just barely see into his. Between your houses was a stretch of grass that might as well have been neutral territory—claimed by both families, but really, it belonged to you and Will. It was where you played tag in the summers, lying in the grass afterward, staring up at the clouds and making up stories about the shapes they formed. It was where you built snow forts in the winter, perfecting your defense strategies for the inevitable snowball fights that followed.

Your mothers loved to tell the story of how, at three years old, you and Will had wandered into each other’s yards like you had already decided you belonged together. There was no awkward introduction, no hesitation—just a mutual understanding that from that day forward, you would be a pair.

It had been that way ever since.

If one of you was outside, the other one would be too. If Will was climbing a tree, you were right there beside him, scraping your knees and daring him to go higher. If you were building a snow fort, Will was already planning the perfect snowball attack, laughing as he ducked behind his defenses and waited for the perfect moment to strike.

When the two of you started school, it became obvious to everyone else what you had always known—you and Will were a package deal.

You sat next to each other in class, passing notes when the teacher wasn’t looking. You shared your lunch when Will forgot his, and he stole bites of your food even when he didn’t forget. You rode your bikes home together in the afternoons, tires skidding over the cracked pavement as you raced down the street, the wind tangling in your hair.

Everywhere you went, it was just expected that the other would be close behind.

And then, of course—there was hockey.

Hockey wasn’t something you played on a team. It wasn’t about winning, about rules or coaches or referees blowing whistles. Hockey was what you and Will did when the world outside your little town didn’t matter. It was the thing that belonged to just you two, carved into the hours spent on frozen ponds and backyard rinks.

The first time you put on a pair of skates, you were four.

Your parents had taken you and Will to the pond behind his house, where the ice stretched wide and smooth under the pale winter sun. You had been bundled up in layers so thick you could barely move, your mittens too big for your hands, your skates laced up loosely because your mom didn’t know how to tie them tight enough yet.

You still remembered the way your tiny fingers fumbled with the laces, how the cold nipped at your cheeks as you stood up, wobbling on unsteady legs.

“I don’t think I like this,” you said, your skates sliding against the ice. Your knees wobbled, and for a second, it felt like the ground wasn’t beneath you at all—just a slick, unforgiving surface that wanted to see you fall.

Will, standing just as shakily beside you, had turned his head, his missing front teeth making his grin even more lopsided than usual.

“We’ll get better,” he had said confidently, as if there were no other possibility.

And somehow, that was enough to keep you from giving up.

At first, skating meant clinging to the wooden fence in Will’s backyard rink, your tiny hands grasping the frozen wood as tightly as possible while you tried to move without slipping. It meant falling—a lot—until bruises formed on your knees and elbows, until your gloves were damp from the snow. But you never quit, and neither did Will.

And then, one day, you didn’t need to hold onto the fence anymore.

One day, you let go, and when you wobbled, Will reached out and grabbed your hand, steadying you.

“See?” he said, his face bright with excitement. “Told you we’d get better!”

It became a ritual after that. Every winter, the moment the temperature dropped low enough for the ice to freeze solid, you and Will would be out there, bundled up in too many layers, your skates laced up tight. You never played a real game—there were no teams, no rules, no official scores. It was just the two of you, racing each other across the ice, passing a puck back and forth, seeing who could do the best spin without falling over.

By the time you were six, the ice wasn’t something to be afraid of anymore—it was yours. It was familiar, a second home, a place where you and Will spent hours, long after your parents had called you in for dinner, until your fingers were too numb to lace up your skates properly.

And now that you weren’t afraid of falling, now that you had learned to move without stumbling, there was only one thing left to do—go faster.

The pond behind Will’s house was perfect for it. The ice stretched wide and smooth, framed by a ring of bare trees whose branches looked almost black against the winter sky. It was quiet, except for the occasional caw of a crow in the distance or the way the ice creaked beneath your blades.

Most of the time, you and Will would pass a puck back and forth, or you’d make up imaginary teams, calling out plays like the two of you were starring in the Stanley Cup Finals. But some days, like today, it was all about speed.

“I bet I can go faster than you,” Will said, his breath curling in the cold air, the tip of his nose red from the wind.

You scoffed, adjusting your mittens. “No way.”

Will grinned, flashing the gap where his front tooth had fallen out. “You’re scared.”

You straightened, eyes narrowing. “Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Fine!” you huffed. “Race me!”

His grin widened, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

The two of you skated to the edge of the pond, right where the ice met the frozen, snow-covered grass. It was an unspoken rule—this was the starting line.

“To the other side and back,” Will declared. “First one to touch the tree wins!”

You nodded, determination settling in your chest. The tree he was talking about stood at the far edge of the pond, a tall, leafless thing with thick, twisting branches. It had always been your marker—whether you were racing or pretending it was the goalpost in a make-believe game of hockey.

“Ready?” Will asked, crouching slightly, like he had seen real hockey players do.

You bent your knees, copying his stance. “Ready.”

“One… two… three—GO!”

The two of you took off, the ice hissing under your blades.

The cold air bit at your cheeks as you pushed forward, your legs pumping, each stride growing stronger. Will was just ahead of you, his dark coat billowing slightly as he leaned forward, using his arms for momentum.

But you were close.

You dug in, pushing harder, your skates cutting across the ice in smooth, precise strokes. The wind howled past your ears, the world around you blurring until it was just you and him and the race.

Will reached the tree a second before you did, his glove smacking the bark triumphantly before he turned sharply, already speeding back toward the starting point.

But you weren’t going to lose that easily.

Determination burned in your chest as you mirrored his turn, pressing your weight into your skates just like he did. You felt the ice shift beneath you, the sharp edge of your blade slicing cleanly through the surface. For a moment, you thought you might fall—your balance wobbled, the world tilting—but then you steadied, and suddenly you were flying.

Will glanced over his shoulder, his eyes going wide when he saw you gaining on him.

“Hey!” he shouted, laughing. “No fair!”

“Just ‘cause I’m faster than you!” you called back, breathless.

He let out an exaggerated groan, pushing harder, trying to reclaim the lead.

The finish line was only a few feet away now—the spot where you had started, just beyond the pond’s edge. You were side by side, your skates practically in sync, your mittens brushing once, twice, as you both reached out toward the invisible finish line.

And then—

Will slipped.

It happened in an instant—his skate caught on an uneven patch of ice, and before either of you could react, he was falling.

His arms flailed, his body twisting as he tumbled sideways, his momentum sending him skidding across the ice—right into you.

You barely had time to yelp before you went down too, your skates flying out from under you as you crashed onto the frozen surface, your breath whooshing out in a sharp gasp.

For a second, everything was silent. The ice beneath you was solid and cold, your limbs tangled with Will’s as you both tried to process what had just happened.

And then—laughter.

It started with Will, a breathy little chuckle as he lifted his head, his beanie lopsided, his face scrunched up in amusement. And then you couldn’t help it either—you started giggling, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as you lay there, staring up at the gray winter sky.

“You totally knocked me over!” you accused between laughs.

Will gasped, pressing a mittened hand to his chest. “I did not! You ran into me!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“You just couldn’t handle losing,” you teased, sitting up.

Will groaned dramatically, flopping back down on the ice. “I almost won,” he muttered.

“But you didn’t.” You grinned, nudging his arm.

He turned his head toward you, his blue eyes still shining with laughter. “Rematch tomorrow?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “Hmm… maybe. If you think you can keep up this time.”

Will gasped again, more dramatic than before, and before you could react, he scooped up a handful of snow from the ice, tossing it at you. It hit your coat in a puff of white, and you shrieked, scrambling to retaliate.

Within seconds, the race was forgotten, replaced by an all-out snow fight.

And maybe you would have a rematch tomorrow.

Or maybe you would just end up laughing and tumbling over each other again, limbs tangled, faces flushed from the cold.

Either way, it didn’t matter.

Because you would always be out here, together.

By the time you were eight, hockey had become an undeniable part of your rhythm, just as much a part of you as the air you breathed. Will had his hockey stick in his hands more often than not, carrying it around like an extension of himself, a trusty companion as familiar as the jacket on his back. And wherever he went, you were sure to follow—skates laced, stick in hand, trying your best to keep up with his ever-growing skills.

One afternoon, you were out on the ice behind Will’s house, the backyard rink gleaming in the late afternoon sun. The frost hung thick in the air, and your breath came out in puffs of steam, drifting upward as if it too was eager to get in on the action. The rink was a wonder—built just the way Will’s dad always did it, smooth and perfect, a sheet of glass that stretched across the yard. The perimeter was lined with snowbanks you’d created together, little mountains of white that were as much a part of the rink as the ice itself.

“Okay, ready?” Will asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the excitement in his voice a telltale sign that this was one of those important training sessions.

You nodded, tightening your grip on the stick, the leather worn in your hands from all the years of practice.

“Okay,” he said, his tone turning serious. “You have to bend your knees more.”

You nodded, watching him carefully as he demonstrated. His knees bent low, his body leaning into the motion as he glided across the ice like a real hockey player. The speed with which he moved amazed you—how effortlessly he zipped from one end of the rink to the other. Will always seemed to have a natural gift for it, a fluidity that made you wish you could keep up.

“Like this,” he repeated, showing you again, his brow furrowing with concentration.

You bent your knees, mimicking his movements, but the truth was, it felt strange at first—like you weren’t fully in control of your body on the ice. But you weren’t one to give up easily. You pushed forward, trying to master the stance, to get the feel of it, to match his speed.

But just as you started to get into the rhythm, there was a sudden whoosh, and you blinked in surprise.

A snowball.

Will had swung his stick, flicking a perfect snowball off the blade. It hit your jacket with a soft thud, breaking apart on impact, but the message was clear.

“Hey!” you shrieked, laughing. “What was that for?”

Will shot you a mischievous grin, his eyes alight with challenge. “You look too serious. I thought I’d make it more fun!”

Before you could protest, he took off, his skates slicing across the ice as he raced away from you. The snowball fight was on.

You grabbed a handful of snow from the edge of the rink, packing it into your mittens, and gave chase, laughing so hard your sides ached. You dodged and weaved, trying to catch him as he weaved back and forth on the ice, always just out of your reach. His laughter echoed in the air, high-pitched and free, as he taunted you with mock shouts.

“You gotta be quicker than that!” he called over his shoulder.

“No way!” you shouted back, your voice a little winded, but you were determined.

Your skates slid in a fast arc as you closed the gap, finally launching your own snowball at him, the icy mass hitting him squarely on the back. Will let out a dramatic gasp and spun around, mock offense written all over his face.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

You grinned, knowing that the rules of this game didn’t matter much to either of you anyway.

Hockey wasn’t something you played for the glory of scoring goals, or the thrill of victory. It was never about winning for you and Will—it was about the joy of being together, on this patch of ice that was yours and his alone.

The years had a way of blending together, and yet every winter felt like it was the first one all over again. Every time the backyard rink was built, every time the plastic sheets were rolled out and water was sprayed over them, it was like the world was starting fresh. The ice would form overnight, as if by magic, and the moment it was ready, you and Will were out there, eager to skate, to challenge each other, to share this simple joy.

“First to five wins!” Will called, his voice slicing through the quiet, his stick tapping rhythmically against the ice.

Your heart gave a little jolt. The thrill of the game was in the chase, in the way Will’s grin spread wider every time he won—but not too wide, because he always made sure to give you another shot, to make sure you were never left behind.

It was just a game, sure. But it was your game. Yours and Will’s.

You dug in your skates, pushing off from the snowbank, racing across the rink toward the makeshift goal. You dodged him with a quick flick of your wrist, making a break for the other side of the ice. You could hear Will’s laughter behind you, could see him chasing after you in your peripheral vision, his stick slapping against the ice.

“I’m gonna win this time!” you shouted.

“No chance,” he teased, the competitive glint in his eyes showing that he meant it.

But in the end, just like every other time, even if you lost—he’d always find a way to make it a tie.

He would pause, panting, hands on his hips, looking at you with that goofy grin of his that made everything feel okay.

“We’ll call it a draw this time,” he’d say. “Because I’m feeling generous.”

You’d roll your eyes, grinning back. “You’re so full of it.”

But there was never any argument. There didn’t need to be. You were happy just to be out there, skating under the fading light of the winter sky, your breath rising in visible clouds, your body buzzing from the cold and the joy of the game. And for you, at least, the outcome didn’t matter as much as the moment you shared with him.

You had never been part of a real team, but it didn’t matter. This was your team—the two of you. And it was all you needed.

It was a secret world, one only you and Will knew. The rink, the cold, the game—it was yours. No one else’s. Just the two of you, racing, laughing, and skating together forever.

At ten, you knew that the bond between you and Will wasn’t just something casual or fleeting. It was something different. Something unspoken, yet undeniably there. You didn’t need anyone to tell you that—because in every small moment, it showed.

It wasn’t unusual for you and Will to exchange gifts. Simple things. Things that didn’t need to be wrapped or adorned with bows, because the meaning was always there, inherent in the gesture. But one winter afternoon, as the two of you stood out on the frozen backyard rink, Will handed you something different.

It was a small, round hockey puck. The edges had been worn down with use, its black surface slightly scratched from countless games. But it wasn’t the puck itself that made it special—it was what Will had done with it.

“You’re always losing your stuff,” he teased, his breath visible in the frigid air, his dark hair tousled from the wind. “So, I figured you’d need this.”

He grinned as he held out the puck, and you stared at it, puzzled for a moment. Then you saw it—the black marker scrawl on the surface. Your initials, hastily written but clear enough for you to read.

You felt a warmth spread through you as you took the puck from his hand, your fingers brushing his as you accepted it.

“Don’t lose it,” he said, his tone playful but with an underlying sincerity. “That’s your puck. Only yours.”

You nodded, holding it close, feeling a strange sense of pride. “I won’t,” you promised, your voice quieter than usual.

From that moment on, that puck became one of your most prized possessions. It wasn’t just a piece of equipment—it was a token, a symbol of the way Will saw you, the way he treated you. It was his way of telling you that you mattered to him, in a way that words couldn’t fully explain. You kept it in your nightstand for years, tucked away under a pile of old journals and scraps of paper. And every time you opened that drawer, you’d run your fingers over the puck, remembering that day, that moment, and the unspoken promise that came with it: You are important. You belong here.

Two years later, when you were twelve, Will handed you something else.

It was a friendship bracelet, woven together with blue and white threads. It wasn’t just any bracelet, though—it was the colors of his favorite hockey team, the Toronto Maple Leafs. Even at twelve, he had big dreams. He swore, without hesitation, that one day he’d play for them, that one day the Leafs would be his team.

“I made it for you,” Will said, his voice gruff but with a playful edge as he shoved the bracelet into your hand.

You stared at it, taken aback. Will had never been the type to give out handmade things, much less something so personal. But the moment you saw the familiar blue-and-white pattern, it made perfect sense. This was his way of telling you that even if you never played on the same team, even if you never made it to the ice in the same uniform, you were still a part of his world. He wanted you to have this, something that tied the two of you together. Something that bound you to his dreams.

“You sure you want me wearing this?” you asked with a grin, trying to mask the knot forming in your chest. “You know, it’s kind of like a team thing. Maybe I’ll jinx you or something.”

Will snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Please. If anyone’s gonna jinx me, it’s not you. Besides, it’s not like you’re gonna get rid of it. You know you’ll wear it every day.”

He was right, of course. The bracelet became a part of you, a constant presence on your wrist as you went about your daily life. Even when it started to fray around the edges, when the blue and white threads began to look worn and faded from constant wear, you couldn’t bring yourself to take it off. It was more than just a piece of thread—it was a reminder. A reminder of Will’s promise, his belief in his own future, and the way he had always included you in his dreams.

But not everyone understood that. Not everyone saw what Will saw, what you saw.

One day at school, when you were walking together down the hallway, a kid—one of those kids who always seemed to have something to say—decided to make a comment. He snickered, tossing his backpack over his shoulder as he walked past, his eyes flicking between you and Will.

“Why don’t you play on a real team?” he sneered, his voice loud enough for others to hear. “You don’t even play. Just hanging out with him like it’s some game.”

For a moment, you froze, your gut twisting. You had never been the type to stand out, to let people make you feel small. But this—this stung in a way you hadn’t expected. The kid’s words felt like an attack, like a judgment on the way you and Will had always spent time together. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about it before. Sure, you didn’t play for a real team. But that didn’t matter. Hockey wasn’t just a sport to you. It was your thing. Yours and Will’s.

You tried to brush it off, pulling your shoulders back and pretending the words didn’t hit their mark. But Will didn’t let it slide.

You saw the way his jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing as he turned to face the kid. There was a fire in his gaze that sent a small chill down your spine, but it wasn’t a bad kind of chill—it was the kind that made you feel like nothing could touch you when Will was around.

“She doesn’t have to play on a real team,” Will said, his voice low and steady. His tone was cold, but there was a warmth there too—a fierce, protective edge. “She’s still better than you. And she’s out here, playing with me, every day. So what does that make you?”

The kid blinked, taken aback, his sneer faltering as Will’s words sank in. He didn’t say anything else, just muttered something under his breath before walking off.

But you didn’t care about the kid anymore. You cared about Will.

You could feel your heart swell in your chest as you met his eyes. The loyalty in him was so strong, so unwavering, that it was impossible to ignore. And you couldn’t help the way it made you feel—like you belonged to him, and he to you.

Even when you argued, even when you drove each other crazy, there was never any doubt about it.

You were his. And he was yours.

It was more than just friendship. It was something deeper, something that didn’t need words to be understood. It was a connection that didn’t have a name, not really—but it didn’t need one. You had always been there for each other, and you always would be. No matter what.

Because that was just the way it had always been.

And, somehow, it always would be.

By the time you were fifteen, the changes in Will weren’t just noticeable—they were impossible to ignore. At first, you couldn’t quite pinpoint when it started. The shift in him was so gradual, so subtle, that you might have convinced yourself it was always there. But one day, it hit you—everything about Will was different.

You tried to hold onto the old version of him, the one who was still your best friend, the one who had grown up beside you. He was still the boy who biked to your house every morning, the one who never missed a birthday or a summer adventure. Will was still the same guy who had spent hours building snow forts with you, who had stayed up late telling ghost stories around a campfire, the boy who once stole the last slice of pizza only to end up stealing your heart in a way you never fully realized.

But that boy—your boy—was slipping away, bit by bit, and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t.

Will was changing, and you couldn’t stop watching it happen.

The most obvious change, of course, was in the way he looked. You couldn’t deny that Will had grown taller over the summer. One minute, you were teasing him for being shorter than you, and the next, he was towering over you, with a frame that was leaner, more athletic, as though he had filled out with strength and purpose. You had always known he was athletic—had known that one day he might play for a real team—but seeing it all come together in a way that made him look more like a man than the boy you had always known was startling. The softness of his face had begun to harden, his cheeks no longer round but sharp, his jawline taking shape. There was something undeniably handsome about him now, but the thought of it made something in your chest tighten.

And then there were his eyes. Those gorgeous, familiar eyes—eyes that had always been the easiest to read, eyes that once reflected the way he felt about you without question. But now? Now they seemed to linger longer than they should, following you with an intensity that made you feel exposed, like he could see every unspoken thought in your head. There was a depth to them now, something in his gaze that made your stomach flip, something that made it impossible to pretend like everything between you was the same.

It wasn’t just his appearance that was changing. Will had become more aware of the way people—girls, especially—were starting to look at him. You couldn’t help but notice the way they noticed him. At first, it was subtle. Just a glance here and there when he walked through the hallways at school, a soft giggle when he said something funny in class. But it didn’t take long for it to grow more obvious. At lunch, girls would sneak glances at him from across the room. You’d catch them whispering, eyes darting away quickly when they realized you had seen.

It was almost like a domino effect. One girl would mention something, and before you knew it, the whole school was talking about him. “Did you see Will in gym today?” one girl would whisper. “I heard he’s totally into Sarah.�� You’d hear the same thing in passing, when you tried to get to class, when you went to your locker—everywhere you went, you’d hear his name, spoken with a level of admiration that you couldn’t ignore. Will was becoming something more than just the guy who lived down the street, more than just the boy you spent your entire childhood with.

And then it happened—something so small, so subtle, that you almost missed it, but it cut deeper than anything you could have imagined.

You were standing in the hallway between classes, chatting with a few friends, when you saw him. Will was standing by his locker, leaning against it with his usual relaxed posture. His back was slightly turned, but you saw her. A girl you didn’t recognize—one of the newer students who had transferred that year—was standing a little too close to him. She was laughing, and Will, who usually didn’t entertain the girls who tried to flirt with him, was actually laughing back. And then, just like that, she reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of his face, lingering a little longer than necessary, her fingers grazing the side of his cheek.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

Your stomach twisted, a tight knot of jealousy building in the pit of your stomach. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal—he was still your Will, your best friend. He was just being nice, just joking around, right? But the feeling that spiraled inside you told a different story. The way his smile was a little too soft, the way his gaze lingered on her just a little too long, made something inside you sting.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter if girls liked him now. He was still your Will. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t true. Something was changing, and it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way he acted, the way he seemed to be pulling away from you without even realizing it.

The girls weren’t the only thing that had changed, though. Will had started noticing them. You could tell by the way he carried himself now, more confident, more aware of his effect on people. He no longer had to sit on the edge of your bed after a fight with his mom, making you laugh to lift your mood. He no longer called you at midnight just to talk, just to pass the time, just to hear your voice. He was always busy with something else—another game, another practice, another girl. It wasn’t that he was pushing you away—it was just that you were starting to realize, slowly but surely, that he wasn’t just your best friend anymore.

You tried to hang onto the old versions of things, the versions where Will would drag you out to the rink on those cold winter nights, and the two of you would skate until the stars above the icy lake disappeared, and the sky was light with the first hints of dawn. You tried to hold on to the memories of the two of you sitting on the porch steps, swapping stories of your days, or sneaking into the kitchen to raid his fridge while pretending his mom wouldn’t catch you.

But Will was slipping through your fingers, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop him from becoming someone new, someone who didn’t need you in the same way anymore. The more he changed, the more you realized that you were the one who was holding on.

And the worst part? You had no idea what to do with that feeling.

One Friday night, after a huge game, the house was alive with energy. The party had spilled out onto the porch, with laughter and music vibrating through the walls, the air thick with the smell of cheap beer and fast food. Red solo cups were scattered across every surface, along with half-empty bottles and a haze of smoke that hung in the corners. You could barely hear your own thoughts over the deafening music, the bass thumping in time with the pounding of your heart as you stepped through the door.

It was one of those nights—the kind that only came around once a season. The big end-of-year party, where everyone, no matter what their social status, came to celebrate the victory or drown their sorrows after a tough loss. It didn’t matter who you were or what clique you belonged to. This was the night where everyone came together, and no one really noticed if you didn’t belong anywhere at all.

You found yourself standing in the corner of the living room, a cup of something far too sweet and syrupy in your hand, surrounded by the noise and the chaos. Your friends were laughing nearby, chatting about whatever drama was going on at school, but your mind wasn’t really with them. It was lost somewhere in the sea of voices and flashing lights, and more than anything, it was focused on him.

Will.

Of course, he was everywhere. It was his night. The hockey team had just won their final game, and it was like the whole town was celebrating with them. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all laughing and joking, their voices loud and boisterous. Will’s laughter rose above the others, that familiar sound that you’d always associated with home—like the sound of snow crunching underfoot on a cold winter morning, or the taste of something warm when the world outside was frozen.

But tonight, something was different. You couldn’t explain it at first, couldn’t figure out why your stomach felt twisted in knots every time you saw him, but you couldn’t shake it.

And then, in a flash, you saw it.

You had been talking to a friend near the punch bowl, trying to ignore the heavy, suffocating weight of your own thoughts. You didn’t want to be one of those people who stood off to the side, avoiding the fun, but that was exactly how you felt. Every laugh, every joke, every passing glance seemed to make the weight in your chest grow heavier.

And then you saw him.

Will was standing in the middle of the room, talking to a girl. You didn’t know her name, but she was pretty, with hair that cascaded down her back in soft waves and a smile that seemed to light up the room. She was laughing at something he’d said, and before you could even process it, he leaned in, his hand brushing the side of her arm. In one smooth motion, they were kissing.

It wasn’t a long kiss. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t like something out of a movie. It was a brief, casual thing—just a quick, light peck on the lips after some teasing comment that had them both laughing. But in that moment, it felt like the world had stopped. The music, the chatter, the whole party—it all faded away.

Your heart skipped a beat. Your breath caught in your throat.

Everything inside you froze.

You didn’t even realize you were staring until you felt the heat rise to your neck, and then your face, like your whole body was suddenly on fire. You tried to turn away, tried to look anywhere else, but your eyes kept drifting back to them. Will, his lips still curved in that easy smile, his arm casually draped around her shoulders as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The girl’s hand was resting on his chest, and it looked so effortless, so right, that it made your stomach lurch.

You didn’t know why it felt like you’d been punched in the chest, but it did. Your fingers tightened around your cup, the cold plastic biting into your hand as you tried to ground yourself, to make yourself breathe. It wasn’t anything big. It wasn’t even a kiss that meant anything—at least, that’s what you told yourself. It was just Will, being Will, doing what he always did.

But it wasn’t just the kiss.

It was what it represented. The subtle, inevitable truth that had been hanging in the back of your mind for months, but that you had been too afraid to face.

Will wasn’t just your Will anymore. He wasn’t the boy you had spent every winter skating on backyard rinks with. He wasn’t the one you’d stayed up with late into the night, making up stories and sneaking out for midnight snacks. He wasn’t the same guy who used to laugh at your dumb jokes and crash on your couch after a long day. That part of him, the part that had always belonged to you and only you, was slipping away, slowly but surely.

And now, you were just… there. A shadow in the background, standing on the sidelines, as the boy you had always loved started looking elsewhere.

You swallowed hard, trying to push the bitter taste that had suddenly filled your mouth. But it didn’t go away. The jealousy you had felt in passing—when girls would whisper about him or throw flirtatious glances his way—had been nothing compared to this. Watching him kiss someone else, even so briefly, felt like a gut punch.

You weren’t ready for it. You weren’t ready for the truth that your place in his life was changing, that the way he saw you wasn’t the same anymore. That you might not be the one he would choose.

Still, you tried to act like it didn’t matter. After all, you and Will had been through so much together—years of memories that no girl could take away, no kiss could undo. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t change anything, that this was just one fleeting moment, something trivial.

But as the night stretched on, you couldn’t shake it. Will spent the rest of the evening surrounded by his friends, laughing louder, joking with the girls who fawned over him, bouncing from one corner of the house to another like he belonged in every space. It was like he was at the center of it all, while you stood off to the side, nursing your drink, trying to pretend you didn’t feel like your whole world was quietly unraveling around you.

The music blared on, the conversation never slowed, but you were alone in the crowd.

You didn’t know how to feel. You didn’t know what to do with all the emotions that had suddenly bubbled to the surface.

But you knew one thing.

You weren’t ready to let him go. Not yet.

But nothing had truly changed.

Will still came over after his games, sweaty and exhausted, his jersey clinging to his chest as he collapsed onto the couch. He still stole the remote from you and made you watch whatever ridiculous action movie he was obsessed with at the time, even if you hated it.

You still went on those late-night skates, just the two of you. You’d meet in the dead of night, when everyone else was asleep, and lace up your skates in the cold darkness. The world felt empty and small, the only light coming from the streetlamps casting long shadows across the frozen rink in his backyard. As you skated circles around each other, the air sharp against your skin, the sound of your blades cutting into the ice was the only thing that filled the silence. And in those moments, when it was just the two of you, it was easy to forget that anything had changed at all.

But you couldn’t ignore the quiet shift. The growing distance that had started to bloom between the two of you. Maybe it was in the way he’d look at his phone more often now, scrolling through texts from his teammates, or how the quiet nights you used to spend together were now filled with more people. Maybe it was the way his laugh seemed to carry a little further when he was around his friends—friends who didn’t know you the way he did. The way he’d sometimes get that far-off look in his eyes, like he was thinking about someone—or something—that wasn’t you.

And then there was the truck.

It was one of those quiet, rare moments when Will and you found yourself alone. You’d been driving around the small town after a game, just the two of you in his dad’s truck (one that you had snuck out into), the soft hum of the engine the only sound as the night stretched out before you. The trees lining the roads were bare, their limbs stretching toward the sky like skeletal hands, and the air smelled crisp, clean, piney—a scent you would always associate with him, even when you were older.

You’d reached the lake by the edge of town, the usual place where you’d stop to talk about whatever came to your minds. Will parked the truck at your favorite spot, where the water stretched out in front of you, calm and dark under the blanket of the stars.

He killed the engine, and the silence between you two felt heavier than usual. You didn’t know why, but for some reason, tonight, everything felt more like a question than an answer.

“Do you think we’ll always be like this?” you asked, your voice quiet, almost swallowed by the night.

Will turned to look at you, his brow furrowing slightly, as though he hadn’t even considered it before. It wasn’t the usual playful grin he wore—it was something else. Something thoughtful. He paused for a moment, letting the question hang in the air like smoke, before finally nodding, his voice steady.

“Like what?”

“You know… us.”

It wasn’t a question you’d ever thought to ask before, not in those exact words. But now that it was out there, you couldn’t stop wondering. You couldn’t stop questioning whether this thing between you two—this unspoken, unsaid bond—would still exist in a few years. Would it always be us? Or would you end up like everyone else in town—watching from the sidelines, as Will moved on to something bigger, something different?

His gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, the world seemed to slow. He looked at you like he was weighing something, like he was searching for the right words, but then he just shook his head, as if the answer had been right there all along.

“Yeah,” he said with a half-smile, almost as if he were trying to convince himself more than you. “You and me, right?”

And for just a moment, just long enough for you to let your heart settle in your chest, you let yourself believe it. That it would always be you and Will, like it had always been. That no matter how much things changed around you, some things—some people—never would.

But deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder if the way you felt about him was changing too, and if maybe—just maybe—things would never be quite the same again.

At seventeen, everything had shifted again, and you could feel it in the way things no longer felt as simple or effortless as they once did. Will had a girlfriend now, and that fact alone made the air around you seem thicker, heavier. It was hard to ignore, impossible to pretend it didn’t matter, even though you told yourself a thousand times it shouldn’t bother you. But it did. It really, truly did.

Her name was Emma, and she was everything you weren’t. She was exactly the kind of girl who seemed to fit seamlessly into Will’s life, like the final puzzle piece clicking into place. She was the kind of girl who looked like she belonged in a hockey locker room as easily as she belonged at a school dance. Emma had that effortless charm, that natural grace that you could never quite pull off. She could wear one of Will’s hockey hoodies—too big for her frame—with such ease that it almost looked like it was made for her, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders in soft, tousled waves that framed her face like she belonged in some magazine spread. She wasn’t just in his world—she was the kind of girl who blended into it, who fit so well that it was like she had been handpicked for him. And, in a way, you started to wonder if that was true.

You had never been the girl in the hoodie. You’d never been the one waving at Will from the bleachers with your eyes glowing, cheering him on like it was the most natural thing in the world. You were the girl who stood in the background, the one who shared quiet moments with him in the shadows, away from the spotlight. And the more you saw Emma standing beside him, smiling at him with a kind of ease you could never replicate, the more you realized that she was everything you weren’t and, maybe, everything Will wanted.

At first, it didn’t seem like such a big deal. After all, you had always known Will liked girls—he had kissed a few at parties, flirted with others at school—but it wasn’t like it ever interfered with your bond. You were still you and Will, right? You were the ones who had spent hours on the rink together, the ones who had been inseparable for years. Nothing had ever been able to shake that, right?

But now, things were different. And as much as you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that it was just a phase, that Emma was just another girl in the long string of faces Will had been with, you couldn’t help but feel the growing distance between you.

Will started pulling away, bit by bit. It wasn’t obvious at first—just small things that were easy to ignore. It was the way his texts became less frequent, how the responses you used to get immediately now took longer. At first, you told yourself he was just busy—he was juggling games and school, his life becoming more complicated. You didn’t want to be the person who complained about something so trivial. But then there was the subtle shift when he didn’t come over as often, didn’t just drop by after practice to grab a drink or hang out on the couch like he always had. Those small moments—the ones you thought were unbreakable—started to fade, as if someone had quietly drawn a line between you, a line that you didn’t even notice until it had already split the space between you.

It wasn’t just the way he started showing up less, though. It was in the way he acted when he was there. He seemed distracted, less present, like a part of him was always somewhere else. He didn’t drag you out for late-night skates anymore, those quiet moments where it was just the two of you, skating until your legs felt like they’d give out, laughing at nothing and everything. You missed those times so much that the thought of it almost made your chest hurt. The easy conversations you used to have seemed to disappear with the last snowstorm, leaving nothing but awkward silences in their wake. When he came over, it was like you were strangers sharing the same space, both too scared to acknowledge how much things had changed.

But it wasn’t just Will pulling away. You were changing, too.

There were moments when you felt like you didn’t know how to be you around him anymore. You could see how effortlessly he blended into Emma’s world, how at ease they were together, and it made you question everything. You used to be his everything—the girl who knew every little thing about him, the one who understood his every gesture, every laugh. But now? Now, you felt like an outsider in your own friendship, as though you were watching someone else take your place. You didn’t know how to fix it, how to bridge the growing gap between the two of you, and you didn’t even know if it was possible to. There was a part of you that wondered if you should just walk away, stop pretending like things were the same, stop holding onto something that had already slipped through your fingers.

But you couldn’t let go—not yet. You couldn’t bring yourself to say the words you were too afraid to even whisper. You were scared of what that would mean. Would it mean losing him for good? Would it mean he would never be the Will you used to know?

You didn’t have the answers. All you had was the growing weight in your chest every time you saw him laugh with Emma, every time you saw them together, and the aching feeling that no matter what you did, no matter how hard you tried, nothing would ever be the same again.

One cold evening after a game, you found yourself outside the rink, waiting for him like you had so many times before. The air was crisp, biting, the kind of cold that made your breath visible in the darkness. There was a sharpness to it, the smell of frozen earth and icy metal mixing with the faintest trace of sweat from the locker rooms still lingering in the air. The rink was quiet now, the roar of the crowd from the game fading into the background as you stood alone, arms crossed over your chest for warmth. The tip of your nose was red from the chill, your breath clouding in the air as you watched the other players pack up and head to their cars, the scrape of skate blades against concrete echoing in the distance.

Everything felt still and frozen in time, yet somehow, everything around you seemed to move in fast forward. You could hear the murmur of voices in the parking lot, the sound of keys clinking, the doors of cars slamming shut. But you were focused only on him—on Will.

There he was, standing by his truck, talking quietly with Emma. You didn’t have to look closely to see how comfortable they were together. She was standing close to him, laughing softly at something he’d said, her hand resting lightly on his arm as if it belonged there, as if she had always been there. Will was smiling at her in that way you hadn’t seen him smile at you in months, his eyes crinkling in a way that made you feel suddenly out of place. She was with him in a way you never could be—no awkwardness, no history, no years of friendship between you to complicate things. She fit in his world, while you felt more like a stranger trying to fit into something that no longer made sense.

Your stomach twisted painfully as you stood there watching them. It was like everything you had been denying for so long came rushing to the surface—the way Emma had slipped so easily into his life, the way he looked at her in a way he had stopped looking at you. You could feel a lump forming in your throat, a tightness in your chest, but you didn’t move. You just stood there, frozen, watching as they shared a quiet moment that seemed to last forever, the world moving faster around you, but you stood still in place.

Finally, Will turned his head and saw you standing there, still and quiet in the growing dark. He frowned, the familiar crease between his brows appearing like it always did when he sensed something was wrong. You hadn’t said anything yet. You hadn’t let the frustration, the confusion, the hurt that had been building inside you spill out. But you didn’t need to say anything. He already knew. He always did.

“You’re avoiding me,” you said, your voice sharper than you meant it to be, carrying in the quiet night air.

Will blinked, taken aback by your directness. He ran a hand through his damp hair, clearly caught off guard. “What? No, I’m not,” he said, his voice confused, like he couldn’t understand where this was coming from.

“You missed our skate this morning,” you pointed out, each word slipping from your mouth with more force than you intended. Your arms tightened around yourself in an effort to hold back the wave of frustration that threatened to crash over you. It wasn’t just about the skate. It was everything—the way things had changed so slowly that you barely noticed until it was already too late.

Will’s eyes flickered over to Emma, who was talking to someone else now, probably one of her friends from the team. Then his gaze shifted back to you. “I had plans,” he said, his tone distant, almost dismissive, like it was no big deal.

“Right,” you muttered, your voice bitter. The words tasted sour in your mouth as you forced them out. “Emma,” you added, making it clear, like it should explain everything.

You watched Will’s jaw tense at the mention of her name. His eyes narrowed slightly, and for the first time in the conversation, you saw a flash of irritation cross his face. It wasn’t like the easy, carefree Will you had known all your life. No, this was someone different, someone who was starting to push back. His voice came out low, defensive, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” You couldn’t hold it back anymore. The words escaped before you could stop them, slipping out of your mouth in an angry, almost disbelieving laugh. “You’ve changed, Will.”

His eyes widened, as if he hadn’t heard you right. He looked at you like you were speaking a language he didn’t understand, his gaze flickering from your face to the truck, then back to you, like he was trying to piece together what you meant. For a moment, his expression softened, the defensiveness replaced by something else—guilt, maybe, or confusion. But it didn’t last long. He let out a sharp breath, his hand running through his hair again, the familiar tension returning to his body.

“I didn’t change,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

There it was—the wall. You felt it hit you, the invisible barrier that had been slowly growing between you both for months. You wanted him to understand, wanted him to see what was happening, but it was clear that he didn’t get it. Or worse, maybe he didn’t want to. The idea that he didn’t even notice the distance between you, the way he had stopped being there for you the way he used to, made the knot in your chest tighten.

“You don’t get it, do you?” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t hold his gaze as the words spilled out of you. “I’ve been here the whole time, Will. And you’re slipping away from me. You’re slipping away, and I can’t stop it.”

There was a long pause, the words hanging heavy in the air between you. Will didn’t say anything at first. His eyes dropped to the ground, like he was processing what you’d said. You wanted him to say something—anything. You wanted him to reach out, to tell you it wasn’t true, to fix everything with a few words, but instead, there was just silence. The cold air wrapped around you like a physical weight, and you could feel the finality of it—the way the space between you had stretched too far to ever go back.

He exhaled sharply, glancing away, his gaze drifting toward the distant horizon like he was done with the conversation. Done with you.

You wanted to scream at him, to tell him everything that had been building inside of you for months—the way it hurt to see him with someone else, the way it felt like he was slipping through your fingers, the way your heart ached with every moment he wasn’t there for you. But you didn’t. You stood there in the cold, a lump in your throat, fighting back tears, fighting to keep your composure.

After what felt like an eternity, Will finally shrugged, his posture stiff as he gave you a tight, almost apologetic smile. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t enough.

“I’m not changing. You’re overthinking this,” he said, like the whole thing could be solved with a few words. But it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

It wasn’t just overthinking. It was the reality of everything that had been slipping through your fingers, and the sharp ache in your chest that made it impossible to ignore.

You swallowed, trying to force down the lump in your throat. He didn’t understand. Maybe he couldn’t. Or maybe he didn’t want to.

You nodded, your lips pressed tightly together, keeping everything you felt locked inside. There was nothing left to say.

And with that, you turned and walked away, the sound of your boots crunching in the snow the only thing you could hear, the emptiness in your chest growing with every step.

The months that followed were a blur of fleeting faces and empty promises. Emma, Sophie, Maddie—each name slipping into Will’s life like they had always belonged there, only to leave again, as if they had never truly mattered. It was a constant cycle of faces and names that you barely had time to learn before they were replaced by someone new. And yet, somehow, Will threw himself into each relationship like it was the answer to all the questions you had left unspoken between the two of you. He smiled, he laughed, and in those moments, he looked like he was truly happy. But you could see through it. You could always see through it. The cracks were there, if you looked closely enough. The way his smiles didn’t quite reach his eyes anymore, the way his laugh sometimes sounded hollow, like he was trying to convince himself of something that wasn’t true. You could see that he was still searching for something, but it wasn’t in the girls who came and went.

He never let anyone in the way he had let you in. There was something between you—something deep, something real—that no one could replicate. It had been easy, once, to believe that no one could ever take your place. That your bond was unbreakable. But now, with each new girl, with each fleeting relationship, it was becoming clearer: You were being replaced, whether you liked it or not. And still, no matter how many times he started over with someone new, he never looked at you—not the way you wanted him to.

It was like living in a perpetual loop of half-answers and unasked questions. The same faces, the same routines, the same emptiness. It wore you down. At first, it had been a sharp sting, a pain that you couldn’t ignore. Every time you saw him holding someone else’s hand, every time he laughed with someone new, it felt like a part of you was being carved away. But eventually, that pain dulled, bit by bit. It became less sharp and more like a dull throb that you couldn’t shake, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. You tried to tell yourself that it didn’t matter. That you were fine, that you were okay with him moving on, with him finding someone else, because that was what you were supposed to do. You were supposed to be happy for him. After all, he was your best friend, and you were supposed to want him to be happy.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You weren’t just his best friend anymore. And as much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, the truth was undeniable: you wanted more. You wanted him to look at you like he used to, to see you like he had when everything had been simple and uncomplicated. But he didn’t. Not anymore. And the worst part was that, deep down, you could see the way your place in his life was slipping further and further away. You were fading into the background, becoming something that he once cared about but no longer had time for. A footnote in a story that was no longer yours to tell. And you didn’t know how to rewrite it. You didn’t know how to fight for something that was already slipping through your fingers.

The late-night skates—the ones that used to feel like a tradition, like something just for the two of you—were now few and far between. The easy banter that used to flow so effortlessly between you both had been replaced by uncomfortable silences, the kind that lingered long after the conversation had ended. The secrets shared in the dark, whispered between the two of you in the quiet hours of the night, had turned into distant memories, fading with each passing season, each new girl who came and went. Those moments, once so vibrant and real, now felt like fragments of a dream—a dream that you couldn’t quite hold onto, no matter how hard you tried.

And still, somehow, there was something in the air between you and him that kept you tethered to him, even though you knew it was all slipping away. It was as if an invisible thread still connected you, pulling you back in every time you tried to move on. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the faint, stubborn belief that everything could return to the way it had been. Or maybe it was the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of something that had always been yours, something that had been a constant in your life for so long. You tried. God, how you tried to let go. You tried to move on, to stop caring, to tell yourself that you could be happy without him in your life the way he had been. You forced yourself to let go of the idea that he would ever look at you the way you wanted him to. You buried the feelings deep, locked them away, and told yourself that you could live without them.

But it was like you were living in a dream—a dream where you weren’t supposed to have a happy ending. You were stuck in a story that didn’t make sense anymore, one where you could see the ending coming but didn’t know how to stop it, where you couldn’t bring yourself to wake up. And so you kept going through the motions, pretending that everything was fine, pretending that you were okay with the way things were, even though your heart was breaking with every girl he brought into his life. Even though you were silently watching yourself become a shadow in the background of his world.

The truth was, you didn’t know how to stop caring. You didn’t know how to stop waiting for him to see you, to realize that you had always been right there. That you could have been everything he was searching for. But he never did. And that was what hurt the most. It wasn’t that he had moved on, it wasn’t that he had found someone else—it was that you weren’t even in the running anymore. You were a part of his past, something that had been left behind, and you didn’t know how to be anything else.

And yet, the thread that tied you to him still pulled you in. Every time you saw him with someone else, every time you caught a glimpse of the way he smiled with another girl, it was like a dagger to your chest. But you couldn’t let go. Not yet. Even though you knew, deep down, that the longer you held on, the more it would hurt. The more you would fade into the background, lost in the shadow of a love he would never return.

The cycle continued, and you couldn’t find a way out.

Then, one night, after yet another one of his breakups, the weight of it all settled on you like a storm cloud you couldn’t outrun. You had grown so accustomed to this routine—the girls, the breakups, the emptiness—but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, you could feel the ache in your chest, the heaviness of it, the reality of everything you had been avoiding for so long. Will wasn’t just distant anymore. He was somewhere else entirely.

It was well past midnight when you found yourself sitting beside him again, just the two of you in his truck. The night was colder than usual, the chill seeping in through the cracked windows, sending a shiver down your spine. The world outside was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the distant flicker of a diner sign, casting an eerie glow over the empty streets. The hum of the truck’s engine was the only sound, a steady, rhythmic thrum that seemed to match the pulse of your own heart. Time slowed down in those moments, but everything around you remained still, frozen in a space that felt both too familiar and impossibly foreign.

You had sat in silence for what felt like hours, the weight of everything unspoken pressing down on you. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you had been holding back, but for once, you didn’t know how to begin. The easy silence that had once defined your time together was gone. Tonight, there was nothing easy about it. There was only the quiet hum of the truck and the thick, suffocating space between you.

It was you who broke the silence, your voice soft and hesitant in the cold, empty air. “You ever think maybe you’re looking in the wrong places?”

The words left your mouth before you had time to fully understand what you were saying. You hadn’t even planned on asking him that—maybe it was just the frustration of watching him chase something he could never find in anyone else. Or maybe it was just your heart, speaking the words you’d been keeping buried for so long. But even as the words left your lips, you knew they were about more than just his failed relationships. You were asking him about you, about the space that had grown between you, about all the things neither of you had dared to say.

Will didn’t answer right away. His gaze remained fixed on the windshield, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. He was somewhere far away, his mind tangled in something you couldn’t reach. You could feel the distance between you growing, an invisible barrier that neither of you seemed capable of crossing. But then, after what felt like an eternity, he murmured, “Maybe.”

The word hung in the air, brief and unconvincing. It wasn’t the answer you had hoped for, but you weren’t sure why you had expected anything different. Will had always been distant in his own way, closed off even when he didn’t mean to be. He had always kept a part of himself hidden, like a secret he was too afraid to share. But tonight, something felt different. Tonight, there was a tension in the air, something heavy that had been building for years and was now finally coming to a head.

You swallowed, the words catching in your throat. You had been avoiding the question for so long, but tonight, you couldn’t stop yourself anymore. “What are you looking for?” you asked, your voice small, almost trembling.

The silence stretched again, longer this time, as if Will was still searching for an answer he didn’t know how to give. He let out a sigh, glancing briefly at you before turning his attention back to the dark road ahead. “I don’t know,” he said quietly, the words almost swallowed by the hum of the engine. “Something that feels like… home.”

Home.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. It was simple, yet so layered with meaning. Home was everything you had once been together—the late-night skates, the shared secrets, the quiet companionship. It was a place of safety, of belonging. And now, hearing him say it, you knew he wasn’t talking about you. You weren’t his home anymore, not in the way you had been. He was searching for something he thought he could find elsewhere.

And yet, even as the weight of that realization settled in, a small part of you couldn’t let go. “Maybe you already found it,” you whispered, the words coming out softer than you intended, as if saying them out loud would make them too real. You didn’t even realize how much of yourself was wrapped up in those words—how much of you had always been his home. How much you had always wanted to be.

Will’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. His gaze flickered to you, his expression unreadable, but then his eyes drifted back to the road. His lips pressed together in a tight line, as if he were holding back something he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“Maybe I have,” he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant. And in those three words, everything that had been left unsaid between the two of you hung heavy in the air. He knew. You knew. But neither of you were brave enough to say it.

It was there, in the silence that followed. The thing you had both been avoiding for so long—the thing that had stood between you, unspoken, for years. He had already found it. And it was you. But the moment slipped away, unacknowledged. The thread that had once tied you together remained, but the words were never spoken. The space between you remained, just as it had always been. And you weren’t brave enough to make him say it.

The silence in the truck grew thick, suffocating, as the unspoken things hovered around you like a heavy fog. You had both let too much go unsaid, let too many years slip by in the noise and distractions of everything else. You were both stuck, paralyzed by the fear of what saying it might mean, of what the truth would do to the fragile connection you still shared.

For a moment, it felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the words were caught in your chest, too big and too painful to release. You had spent so many years hoping, wishing for him to see you, to choose you, and now, in this moment, you realized something: you weren’t the one he was looking for anymore.

The cold crept in, curling around you both as the night stretched on, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say another word. Neither of you did.

And in that silence, you finally understood. He wasn’t ready to face it. He wasn’t ready to see what was right in front of him, what you had always been. And you weren’t brave enough to make him.

So, you sat there, together but apart, both too afraid to take that final step toward something that might break everything you thought you knew. And all that was left in the stillness was the hum of the engine and the weight of everything left unsaid.

The cold air cut through you as you glided across the ice, the chill a sharp contrast to the warmth you had carried with you all day. You leaned into the rhythm of it—the scrape of your skates against the smooth, solid surface, the almost hypnotic glide of the blades. The pond in the back yard had always been your place, the one you’d come to when you needed to escape, when the world felt too loud or too heavy. Here, it had always been just you, the ice, and the cool stillness of the night. It was the only time you could breathe, the only time the chaos of life faded into the background, replaced by the quiet hum of your own thoughts and the freedom that skating had always given you.

The ice was perfect tonight. Smooth and crisp, a perfect reflection of the moon overhead. You hadn’t been back here in weeks, months even. Life had moved on, pulling you in different directions—other responsibilities, other distractions. But tonight, as the chill of the air sank deep into your bones, it was as if something had drawn you back. It was the pull of memories—memories that always seemed to be tied to this place, to the pond, to him.

Your breath came in puffs, mingling with the air, rising in the cold night, before disappearing into the vast expanse above you. The world around you was quiet, as if even the trees along the edge of the pond had stopped moving. The sky stretched out above you, dark and expansive, with just a thin sliver of a moon casting pale silver light over everything. It was beautiful in its stillness. The ice was dark underfoot, marked only by the faintest streaks of light, guiding you along its endless surface. For a brief moment, you felt like time had slowed, like everything was suspended in the silence of the night. And in this frozen moment, you allowed yourself to just be—just to skate, to feel the wind rushing against your face, to forget everything else that had been pressing down on you for so long.

But then, as you came around the curve of the pond, you saw him.

It was like everything in the world came to a halt. The rhythm of your skates faltered as you slowed, instinctively, despite yourself. Will stood at the edge of the ice, the moonlight casting long shadows across the ground, making him seem distant, almost unreachable. He was framed by the dark, skeletal branches of the trees lining the pond, his figure stark against the icy glow. His hands were buried deep in the pockets of his jacket, shoulders hunched slightly against the cold, but he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t skating like he used to, wasn’t calling your name, wasn’t laughing as he tried to race you down the ice the way he had so many times before.

No, this time, he was still. Watching you.

The sight of him, standing there like that, caught you off guard. It wasn’t just that he was here, in this familiar place—it was the way he was there. He wasn’t part of the moment, not part of the fluid motion of the pond, the rhythm of your skating. He was apart from it, separate, as if a gap had grown between you that neither of you had been able to cross for a long time. His gaze was fixed on you, his eyes watching with an intensity that felt different—more knowing, more weighted than before. Something in the way he stood there sent an unexpected chill through you, one that had nothing to do with the freezing air or the icy ground beneath your feet.

There had always been a distance between you two lately. It was more than just physical space—it was the silence that had stretched on for so long, the way things had changed over the months, the years. It was the unsaid things between you, the things neither of you had been brave enough to confront. And now, in the stillness of the night, with the moonlight spilling across the pond and the ice stretching out in front of you like a wide-open horizon, it felt like that distance had grown even more. Like it had solidified into something real and permanent, something you could feel deep in your chest every time you looked at him, and yet couldn’t touch.

But still, he stood there, waiting for something. You didn’t know what. Maybe he was waiting for you to speak, maybe for you to skate toward him, maybe for you to keep pretending everything was fine. You wanted to ask him why he wasn’t moving, why he wasn’t on the ice with you, like he had been all those times before. But instead, you just skated, slowly, cautiously, like you were afraid that something would break if you made too much noise, too much motion.

You couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation—the pull between you, the old ache in your chest that never quite seemed to go away, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. You tried to focus on the cold air again, on the rhythm of your skates, but your mind kept drifting back to him, to the figure standing there, watching, waiting.

You slowed as you approached him, your heart giving an unexpected jolt. You hadn’t expected to see him here tonight. But then again, maybe you should’ve known. This had always been your place—the place where you and Will had spent countless hours skating together, laughing, talking, and being… just being.

When you stopped in front of him, he didn’t immediately speak. He just looked at you, his eyes tracing the curves of your face, like he was trying to find something he’d lost.

The air between you both was thick with unspoken words, the kind that had been left lingering for too long. Will’s gaze was unwavering, intense in a way that made you feel exposed, as if he could see right through the walls you’d built around yourself. He didn’t say anything right away, but the way he was standing there, frozen like a part of the night itself, told you everything you needed to know. This wasn’t just about the pond, or the ice, or even the simple act of being together. It was about everything that had come before it—the shared years, the moments you had both tucked away, the distance that had quietly crept in without either of you acknowledging it.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath, trying to force the words out, but they felt stuck in your throat, as if they were caught in a knot that had been tightening for months. The question that had sat heavy on your chest, the one you had wanted to ask him for so long, finally slipped out, and you immediately regretted it. “What are you doing here?”

You could hear the way the cold air wrapped itself around the words, how it made them sound small, insignificant. But there was more to it than just that. You weren’t just asking where he was, why he was here on the edge of the ice after everything that had passed between you two. You were asking why, after all this time, he was still here at all. You were asking why you were still here, standing in front of him, when everything had gotten so tangled and messy.

Will shifted his weight from one foot to the other, but he didn’t move closer. He wasn’t standing with the same easy comfort that had once come so naturally between the two of you. This wasn’t the same Will—the one who would have spun you into a laugh, dragged you around the pond as though the world was an endless game. No, now he was distant, locked behind something you couldn’t reach.

He finally spoke, and his voice, rough with the kind of weariness that comes from too many thoughts left unsaid, sent a shiver down your spine. “I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his words a little softer, like they were trying to break through the cold of the night and reach you. “We used to come out here all the time. I guess I just wondered… why we stopped.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and your chest tightened, a dull ache settling in where your heart used to be. It was like hearing the echo of your own guilt, that hollow feeling that had been quietly growing inside you ever since you’d stopped coming here, stopped showing up. The pond had once been yours together, the place where you both went to forget everything else. But somehow, it had become a place of silence. A place of absence.

You looked away, taking in the moonlit stretch of the pond, the same stretch that had once felt like home, like a part of you that belonged only to him and to the two of you. Now, it felt impossibly far away, like something you didn’t know how to reach anymore. “I don’t know. Life, I guess,” you said, and the words tasted empty in your mouth. They felt like an excuse, like a half-hearted answer to something that wasn’t simple enough to explain away.

Will nodded, but the gesture felt heavy, like it meant more than just acknowledgment. His eyes dropped to the ice beneath his boots, and for a long beat, the silence between you thickened again. It was as if neither of you knew what to say next, but you both knew that something had to be said. That something had to break through this endless back-and-forth of silence, of pretending everything was fine, when it had never been. Not really.

“Yeah, life,” Will echoed softly, his voice carrying a note of bitterness that wasn’t there before. “Funny how it pulls you away from the things you thought mattered.”

The weight of his words pressed against you, heavier than the cold that surrounded you both. They hung there in the air between you, suffocating and yet too fragile to touch. It wasn’t just about the pond anymore. It wasn’t even just about skating, or your shared history. It was about everything that had happened after—everything that had shifted, the years that had slipped away, and the space that had grown between the two of you that neither of you had bothered to fill. You wanted to say something to ease the hurt in his voice, to give some kind of response that would make it better, but the words felt inadequate, and the silence stretched on like a chasm you couldn’t cross.

You could feel the old ache rising in your chest, threatening to choke you. That familiar knot of longing, of pain, of knowing that something had been lost but never being able to put it into words. The last few months had felt like you were drifting, trying to stay afloat in a world that felt more and more like a memory. You knew that what Will was saying was more than just about the pond, more than just about why you stopped coming out here. It was about everything that had been unsaid, about the love that had never really gone away, but that neither of you had been brave enough to face.

His gaze flickered toward you then, just for a second, before he looked away again. You couldn’t tell if it was hesitation or if it was simply that he didn’t have the words, but the look on his face made it clear that he, too, was trying to figure out how to say what had been left unspoken for far too long. There was a furrow between his brows, his lips pressed together like he was fighting against something, like he was trying to decide whether to speak or stay silent.

The silence stretched out, thick and charged, as Will stepped forward, closing the gap between you with slow, deliberate movements. His boots creaked on the frozen ground, the sound sharp in the stillness of the night, each step echoing like a beat of your heart, steady but with an undercurrent of tension. The world around you seemed to shrink, leaving only the two of you, the cold air between you both swirling in invisible waves, and the pond beneath your feet, the same one that had held your memories, your secrets. The weight of everything you’d been avoiding pressed in on you from all sides, but for some reason, standing there in the quiet of that frozen world, it felt more real than it ever had before.

“I’ve been an idiot,” Will said, the words coming out in a rush, like he had to force them past the tightness in his chest. His voice sounded rough, strained, as if every syllable was a weight he had carried for far too long. “I’ve been running from this—running from you—for so long, and I’ve always told myself that I was looking for something else, something… better, I guess. But the truth is, I’ve always known. I’ve always known what I was looking for.”

The air seemed to stutter around you, a breath held in time, and everything inside you froze. The words he spoke felt like a door creaking open, revealing the things you’d buried, the things that had always been there, hidden in plain sight. His gaze, dark and heavy with something you couldn’t quite name, was locked on you now, pulling at you, tugging at everything you’d spent months trying to avoid. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no sound came. The words were lodged in your throat, a lump too big to swallow, too fragile to touch.

Will didn’t move away. He didn’t retreat like he used to, back when things were simpler, back when running felt like the only option. Instead, he took another step forward, his eyes still on yours, his expression so raw, so unguarded that it felt like you were seeing him for the first time in a long time. You felt your pulse race, your heart beating harder now, like it was trying to escape the cage of your chest. There was no way to stop it—not now, not after everything that had been said.

“I’ve been stupid,” Will repeated, the words heavy, full of regret and the weight of years lost. His voice cracked on the last syllable, as if he couldn’t carry the burden anymore. His words wrapped around you like a warm, bitter ache, and something inside you unraveled, something you hadn’t realized was so tightly wound. “I’ve been looking for something that felt right, something that could fill the hole, but the whole time, I’ve been blind. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

The air seemed to thin, as if the world had paused, holding its breath in the face of his confession. You stared at him, speechless, the words hanging between you like fragile glass, too delicate to touch, too powerful to ignore. Everything you had buried deep inside you—every memory, every whispered promise—rose up in that moment, flooding your mind, too much to hold. The hurt. The longing. The hope you had hidden away because it had seemed too painful, too impossible. And now, here it was, all of it spilling into the space between you, raw and undeniable.

Will stepped closer, his movements slow, cautious, like he was afraid you might disappear if he moved too fast. His hand stretched out, tentative, reaching for yours. For a heartbeat, you wondered if you should pull away. If you should hold back, protect yourself from the collision of everything that had been left unsaid. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. The moment was too big, too important, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to run from it. You didn’t want to hide.

His fingers brushed against yours, just a gentle touch, hesitant and searching. But when you didn’t pull away, when you didn’t retreat, his hand slid into yours, warm and firm, and the world seemed to shift again, like something heavy had been lifted.

“You and me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, as if the words themselves were fragile, like they might shatter if spoken too loudly. The weight of the sentence hung in the cold air, shimmering like ice beneath your feet. “Right?”

The question hit you like a wave, flooding over you, sweeping away the last of the doubts, the last of the confusion. It wasn’t just a question—it was a promise, a revelation, a return to something that had never truly disappeared. His words were everything you had been waiting for, everything you had hoped for, buried under years of missed chances, misunderstandings, and broken silences.

Your heart skipped, then raced, and finally, after all this time, the knot that had been twisted tight in your chest loosened, unraveling like a story that was finally being told the right way. The ice beneath your feet seemed to hum with life, the air around you still and electric, charged with the weight of what had just passed between you.

For a long, eternal second, you just stood there, your hand in his, your heart in your throat, waiting for the world to catch up to the truth. And when you finally spoke, your voice was soft, trembling, but certain, like you were giving life to something that had always been there, something that had never really died.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Right.”

Will’s eyes softened in a way you hadn’t seen in so long—like he was seeing you for the first time again, like everything that had been lost was suddenly found. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something deep and knowing, as if this moment had always been inevitable, as if it had been waiting for you both, just out of reach.

His thumb moved slowly over the back of your hand, tracing a pattern, steady and sure, as though he was grounding himself in the reality of the moment. It was like he was reassuring himself that this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t a figment of his imagination—this was real. This was happening. He was here. You were here. And this time, you weren’t going anywhere.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You just stood there, hand in hand, as the silence stretched between you, full of unspoken understanding, full of the quiet recognition that this was the beginning of something you both should have embraced long ago. The night around you seemed to hum with a kind of electricity, as though the whole world was holding its breath, waiting for you both to take the next step.

And then, just as the tension became almost unbearable, Will stepped closer. His chest brushed against yours, the warmth of his body mingling with the crisp cold air, and it felt like everything inside you shuddered in response. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, his face hovering just inches from yours, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, any sign that you might pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

The space between you disappeared as if it had never existed. And then, as though the universe itself had given its blessing, Will leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a soft, tentative kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your veins. It was a kiss that felt like the culmination of everything that had been building for years—every look, every touch, every moment of longing, of doubt, of waiting for something to change. It was all here, now, in this kiss, gentle and full of promise.

You felt your breath catch as his hand moved to cup your face, his fingers cool against your skin, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, your own hands reaching for the warmth of his jacket, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours, slow and deliberate, as if he was trying to savor the moment, to make sure this was real, that this wasn’t just a dream.

Everything felt alive in that moment—the night around you, the ice beneath your feet, the beating of your heart. You could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady, through the warmth of his body, and it made you realize how long you’d been holding onto something that you were finally letting go of. The past, the doubts, the fear—they all disappeared in the heat of the kiss, leaving only the present, only the undeniable truth that had been waiting for both of you.

As he deepened the kiss, you felt a rush of emotions flood through you—relief, happiness, longing, everything you had kept locked away for so long now flowing freely between you. Will’s lips were soft, urgent now, as if he, too, was realizing how much time had been lost, how much he had been denying, how much he had been running from. His hands moved to your back, pulling you even closer, and you felt the warmth of his embrace spread through you, chasing away every trace of the cold night air.

For a moment, nothing else mattered. The world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, standing there on the ice, kissing like you were the only two people in the universe. The kiss was a promise, a vow—of what had been, of what was, and of what would come next. You knew, in that moment, that this was just the beginning. You had both been lost, but now you had found each other again, in the most beautiful and unexpected way.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your forehead resting against his, you couldn’t help but smile, your lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Will’s eyes were bright, filled with something you couldn’t quite place—joy, relief, wonder—but there was one thing you knew for sure. He wasn’t going anywhere. Neither of you were.

“I’ve been waiting for that,” you whispered, your voice still soft, but full of everything you had been holding back.

Will smiled, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looked down at you, his gaze tender. “I know. Me too.”

And then, with a final lingering kiss, you both stood in the moonlight, on the ice, with the silence of the world surrounding you both, it felt like everything had finally clicked into place. The pieces of the puzzle, scattered and jagged for so long, had come together, and you could see it now—what you had both been searching for, what you had both been too afraid to face.

It had always been you. And it had always been him.

[authorhjk1]

I hope its not much to ask but any chance you can make an Irene short pls? Her photos for her upcoming photobook is driving me nuts lol especially the one where shes lying sideways and looking at the tv.

You close the door behind you, take your shoes off and walk into the living room.

"You are still up?"

The love of your life lies on the couch in your shared apartment, watching TV. The room is just as dark as the night outside. You hesitate to switch on the lights, the blue shine of the screen illuminating your wife's gorgeous face.

"Of course I am."

It took her a moment to tear her eyes off the screen. But once she looks at you, her face grows softer.

"I always wait for you, when you work late."

"Yeah."

You lose your words, when you realize what Irene is wearing. Several years of marriage and you still can't help but feel like a stupid teenager when she looks this fantastic.

As she gets off the couch, the white shirt or dress slips down her frame. You can't really tell if it's your shirt or her dress, which she brought a couple of weeks ago. It's still dark. But you are disappointed nonetheless. It hides the beautiful curves of her hips.

"I left some of the food in the fridge, if you want me to heat it up for you?"

"I love you."

She smiles back at you, tiptoeing her way around the couch.

"Love you too."

She gives you a peck on your lips, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Once you are inside the bedroom, you quickly get rid off your suit and change into something more comfortable. After a quick stop at the bathroom, you enter the kitchen.

Your wife has already finished reheating the food she made.

"Thank you."

You lean over the kitchen table, kissing Irene's forehead.

"I'm just making sure you are not going to bed hungry."

You shake your head with a big smile on your face as you sit down in front of the meal.

What did you do in your past life to deserve such a woman like her? Caring, beautiful, loving, gorgeous, funny...

The list goes on and on.

As you reach for your fork, the dim light of the fridge makes the golden wedding ring on your finger shine. Irene wanted a fridge with a window in it, so it would be easier for her to see what she needs to buy, without having to open it everytime. Her own ring reflects the blue light as well.

How lucky are you? How is it possible that you are the man who was able to put that ring on her finger?

While you enjoy the food she made, you notice Irene looking at you. Her chin resting on her hand, her elbow on the table. A dreamy smile plays around her lips as she watches you eat.

"Do you have work tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday, silly."

"Right."

Irene giggles as you focus back on your food.

"I thought we could do something together. Something in the city."

"What exactly?"

Irene leans a little forward, visibly excited and curious.

"I'll tell you tomorrow."

She pouts at you, leaning back a little.

"Is the cake already gone?"

You notice she didn't give you any as you reach the end of your meal. You don't have to tell her you enjoyed it. She knows it. She watched you the whole time.

"Well..."

Your wife gets off her chair and walks around the table.

"The cake is gone,"

She is now standing next to you, her hand resting on your shoulder. Irene leans down a little to whisper into your ear.

"but I'm sure we can find you something delicious to eat."

Irene kisses you right next to your ear, before walking into the bedroom. You look after her, watching how she moves with grace.

After quickly finishing the meal and putting away the dishes, you arrive at the bedroom door.

Irene is lying on the bed, her head resting on her hand again. She looks at you. But this time it's different. Gone is the loving, caring look she so often wears. It's replaced by a darker, almost evil stare. Her teeth slightly bite into her lower lip as she sees you standing in the doorway.

"Time for dessert, baby."

Despite her whispering, you can clearly hear her voice, dripping with lust.

You immediately get onto the foot of the bed. Grabbing her luscious thighs with your hands, you pull Irene closer. She is moaning already, knowing what's to come.

As you lean down, you suddenly realize that the pantyhose she is wearing is blocking your access. As if she read your mind, your wife shakes her head.

"Don't tear it open again. I have to buy a new one almost weekly."

"Now I know how you spend all my money."

Before she can protest, you rip the thin fabric apart. The loud tearing sound fills your bedroom for just a moment.

"Fuck."

Irene's head sinks into the pillow at your actions. Everytime you do this, she realizes she can just buy a new one.

Pulling her black panties to the side, you are greeted with her pink pussy. It's a meal you have had every day for the last years. A meal you can never grow tired of.

"Oh gosh, baby."

Irene moans as you tease her by kissing and licking her thighs. But when you are so close to her, you can't keep it up for long. Your kisses start to circle around her pussy. You tighten it further and further, until your lips finally meet her clit.

A loud whine echoes through the room. You can tell that Irene is biting her lips, trying to prevent louder sounds from escaping her mouth.

You indulge in your favorite meal. Your favorite dessert. Her most intimate part is yours.

Years of marriage have taught you everything you need to know about your wife. That includes her body. What she feels like, wherever you touch her. How she feels when you touch her. How to touch her. It's all in your mind. As if you wrote a book or painted a map. You know every inch of her skin like it's your own.

Small and quick kisses on her clit make Irene sigh and tug at her own hair her with her hand. Licks along her folds make her whimper, almost shake in anticipation. Burying your tongue inside her snatch makes her moan. Your hands on her thighs, massaging them, makes her melt.

The combination of all of the above makes sure that you give Irene the time of her life. Her flawless body is hit by wave after wave of pleasure. Her mouth can't seem to close and her hand eventually finds your head.

As she pushes you down, her nails digging into your scalp, you know that Irene is trying to fight a lost battle. A battle you've already won. From the moment you first placed your hands on her thighs a couple of minutes ago.

And the sound of victory is your wife's high pitched cry. Irene reaches her high, her mind going blank as her body betrays her. She has no control over it as she squirms and shakes on the sheets. Her wet pussy is dripping with her juices, leaving a wet spot on the sheets beneath her. Well, more like a puddle.

While she still rides out her orgasm, you plant kisses on her clit, almost apologetically.

With her taste still lingering on your lips, you quickly rid yourself of your clothing. Irene's chest rises and falls as she takes heavy breaths.

"Honey..."

She looks up at you. No other words are needed to express her gratitude, her satisfaction, her longing. Her eyes sparkle with lust as she silently begs you to fuck her.

Knowing how wet Irene becomes after her first orgasm, you align yourself with her snatch without any further preparation. You don't have time for that anyway. Her pussy captivates you, every time you catch a glimpse of it.

"Oh, god!"

Irene moans loudly as you push inside of her. Your hands on her thighs push them apart a little, making sure you have one of the most beautiful views anyone could have.

Your wife's gorgeous face twists in pleasure as you start to fuck her. Slow and deep at first, making her gasp, everytime you hit her cervix.

The lewd sounds her mouth makes eventually coax you into thrusting harder and faster. Irene's moans become louder, her thighs are a little shakey once more.

"You're so tight, baby."

You can't help but praise your wife. She is everything a guy would want in a partner and so much more. And her insides are no exception. The way her walls wrap around you, whenever you thrust into her. The way she squeezes your cock, making sure you feel just as good as she does.

The two of you quickly lose track of time. It was already late when you got home. Both of you were already tired from the long day. But this gives you new energy. New passion.

"More, baby."

Irene moans into your ear as she tears open old scratches on your back.

By now you've carried her to the window after finally undressing her completely. The torn pantyhose lying somewhere on the floor. Her bare back is pushed flat against the cold glass, causing goosebumps to cover her skin. Her legs are wrapped around your waist as you keep pounding into her with hard thrusts.

You kiss Irene's neck, making her moan even louder as you find her soft spot with ease. Her walls clench down on your cock at the same time. A not so silent battle about who makes the other person lose first. And losing is not bad at all. By no means. Losing has only one single outcome. Which is, cuming inside your wife. Something you would gladly do the entire day if you could. Something you did do every day, the entire day, when you were on your honeymoon.

"Babe..."

You gladly admit defeat as you keep pushing inside of your wife.

"Yes, baby. M-Me too..."

You feel Irene's walls squeezing and contracting around you. You plan on holding on throughout her orgasm, but you both know it's not meant to be.

With small "Love you"'s and kisses, the both of you cum at the same time. You feel yourself getting drained by Irene's contracting walls as she feels your load painting her insides. The two of you keep hugging each other in a tight embrace as you ride out your climaxes. Irene's usual squirming and shaking is reduced to a twitching of her stomach and abs, which welcome your cum inside her belly.

"I can't wait for another girl."

You chuckle into her neck.

"That's how you spend all my money."

She grins into yours, peppering your skin with kisses.

"Four times is the charm."

After showering together, you open the door at the end of the hallway. Both beds are occupied with two small figures, visibly sleeping. You kiss them both on their foreheads, before entering the room on the right. Your oldest is sound asleep too. She almost looks exactly like her mother.

"Sleep tight."

You whisper, before joining your wife in your bed.

-------------

Thank you for reading everyone!

I hope you guys enjoyed. I'm working on the next pieces, so stay tuned.

This got a little longer than I expected it to be. (As always)

I had to wait for the bus a little longer than usual, so I thought I would give this a shot.

Stay healthy!

[adelheidvonschicksal]

hey! Was just wondering, could you do a part 2 for puppy! Yuji x reader, where Yuji successfully breeds reader, (don’t ask how it’s possible lol) and reader doesn’t know she’s pregnant, so Yuji tries to tell her she is by rubbing her belly, or laying on it and always holding it. Also some smut if you still do that kinda stuff! I understand if you wouldn’t want to do it! But I would really appreciate it! Live your work btw! <3

Based off I Love Yu

Kind of a what-if since originally there was an implication that he couldn't breed Reader, but let's do it! <3 Thank you to Avy for beta-ing for me again.

AN: It's been a while since I wrote non-solo smut I think. I love Itadori he's already really sweet and cute like a pup! I tried to fit some smut in there so I hope this is something like you were thinking.

CW: NSFW, Smut, Oral (F!Receiving), Interspecies (Puppy Hybrid), pregnancy✨

Filter tags Notsfw, Adelssmut, tw: hybrids, tw: pregnancy

You didn’t understand what was wrong with you.

You’ve been feeling so rundown. No matter how much you sleep, the fatigue doesn’t break. It didn’t help that you could barely keep anything down either, surviving off nothing but toast over the last three days.

The only bright spot in your day recently is your precious puppy boy. Yuji is so sweet to you nowadays, well, he’s always sweet but even more so as of late. He constantly stares at you with big brown eyes and holds his arms around your waist while resting his head against your belly. The warmth of his full weight on you did wonders for the random waves of cramps that hit you after a long day on your feet.

This time when you get home from work, immediately collapsing on your bed with nothing but a towel on after a long shower, he’s there. His fingers tiptoe along your shoulder, a curious set of pokes against your steaming skin.

In a small burst of energy, you plant your hand between two furry ears and briefly pet his head before passing back out into the sheets, sparing no care that you were making them damp. The coolness of them felt too good right now.

Yuji presses a hand to the back of your head, mimicking your actions as he lays on his side to try to catch a glimpse of your face.

“Mad?” he asks.

“I’m not mad, sweetheart.” You work the energy to turn your head to face him. It isn’t the first time you collapsed into the bed in the same fashion. Usually, it meant you were burnt out at work by an assignment or a stupid co-worker. “I just don’t feel good today.”

Big eyes going soft in an apology, he frowns at you before having the excellent idea to squeeze the back of your ankles and shuffle you around. You never understand exactly where he finds this strength, even with all the muscles, but you don’t fight it as he wiggles you around to flip you onto your back.

His hands slide up the side of your legs, shifting your towel to expose one thigh before wrapping around your torso. He scrambles on top of you. His head pushes to your stomach, and he muffles a soft “love you” against it.

“Love me?” he asks, and it makes you wince. He never really asks that unless he did something that he thought would get him in trouble. He learned to get really good at asking once he figured out that buttering you up was an easy way to slip out of scolding.

This time, it concerns you that he might’ve taken your tiredness as something he did wrong, so you run a hand along his upper back. “Of course, I do.”

His tail wags and his face shines again with that smile you love as he cuddles against your belly again. It’s enough to make you ignore it when another cramp seizes, all save for a small whimper and wince that causes his ears to twitch.

Your puppy moves on his own before you can request him to get off your stomach. Warm, big hands hold down your hips and pull at your towel enough so he can pepper your lower belly with kisses. They progress slowly down the center of your stomach, crossing the border to ghost between your legs.

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” you breathe out. With how his tail increases its pace, swinging back and forth fast enough to create a light swishing sound, and how his smooth wide tongue flattens against your mound, you take it as a yes.

And oh boy does it work to make you forget everything when he sets to work. His nails scratch against your skin, biting into the meat of your thighs as his tongue laps at your clit.

You moan eagerly, gripping at your sheets and lifting your hips to greet his sloppy mouth. He makes out with your cunt, almost like he’s trying to devour it as his tongue slides between your folds and his upper lip brushes your bead.

“Sweetheart, do you still know how to use your fingers?”

Yuuji growls and places a kiss on your thigh, smiling against your skin at the wet stain he marks you with. He brings two fingers at your entrance, glancing back up to watch your crumbling expression as he curls them into you.

“That’s it. G-Good boy,” you praise, and he knows he’s struck the right spot that’ll have your pretty moans vibrating in his sensitive ears.

You smell heavenly when he finally flattens his tongue back out over your clit. He knows you’re his, all his, when your walls flutter and suck his fingers deeper into their spongy hold.

He sucks in a breath through his nose. Your scent makes his cock twitch and the swollen and firm feel of your clit tells him you’re feeling good now, and he’s so happy to return the feeling you give him when you constantly float around with the pheromone of his pups.

Yuuji wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you closer. It makes you force a hand down into his hair, praises of “good boy”, “keep going”, ”almost there, sweetheart” panting wetly from your lips until your legs quiver in his strong hold.

When he pulls away, his face is coated in your release, from his nose down, far beyond where his tongue can reach but he wastes no time sucking your taste from his fingers with a smile as he stares at your spent form.

You may be sweaty and out of breath, but you look much happier now. Yuuji crawls over you, sliding his hips between your legs. His hard length presses against your stomach as he presses kisses to the center of your neck, his soft ginger ears tickling the underside of your chin.

Your heart could almost hold the world when he forces his full weight against you to cuddle you.

“I love you.”

You coo at him, scratching fingers through the back of his hair. “I love you too, Yu Yu.”

When he hears your voice, his cock aches. He whines against your skin, wishing that this time would go faster so he could breed you again already. He guesses it doesn’t matter this time, he knows you’ll still at least feel better after he knots you, even if your body is already occupied.

And the whimper you make when he parts you with his cock proves him right.

When the morning comes, you don’t want to get out of bed. You’d rather spend all day cuddling Yuuji and smothering yourself into the sweet strength of his muscles. Alas, you force yourself to get up and go to the doctor’s appointment you made for yourself otherwise you’d never feel better.

You let Yuuji sleep, sliding out from under him, throwing on the first thing you see in your closet, and heading to the clinic.

You enter the building with the expectation of getting some antibiotics or confirmation of stomach flu at worst. Instead, you’re given a list of vitamins to take, a note with a list of symptoms at the bottom all culminating in a diagnosis that reads: pregnant, and a little baby badge to attach to your bag so people won’t hassle you for using the special seats on the subway.

You’re scowling the entire way back home, stopping briefly at a drug store to pick out a couple of different pregnancy tests. There’s no way those stupid doctors had it right.

When you return home, you slam the door behind you, spooking your puppy as you rush to the bathroom. You take the first test that morning and the second one that afternoon, and they both come back with the same result: positive.

Your heart is racing the entire rest of the evening as you sit on the couch and stare at that dumb stick for what seems like forever, thinking that maybe if you stare at it enough your result will change. The only thing that keeps you from going ballistic is Yuuji sitting underneath you, one leg shuffled between yours and the other on the outside of your right. His chin rests right on your knee as he watches you talk with your friend on the phone.

“Is it someone you met on that app?”

“I haven’t even gone on more than a first date.”

Yuuji starts to get impatient the longer your conversation goes on, and you ignore him. He shuffles up onto the couch and collapses his head against your shoulder, making you grimace and shift, so he doesn’t knock the phone out your hand.

“You don’t think that maybe—"

“No, it was only two, and one was for coffee and the other we didn’t ride together,” you add on, and you never drunk enough to where you think someone could have taken advantage of you. “Yuuji cut it out,” you scold when he starts to whine and pull at your waist. Sensing he wasn’t going to stop any time soon, you decide to hang up. “I’ll call you back.”

You put down the phone, turning to your pup to ask him what was wrong. He snuggles against you, rubbing his head against your shoulder and sliding an arm around your stomach.

He mumbles out your name and starts to weigh you back, just enough so your lower back presses against the arm of the couch and he can scoot down to place his head on your stomach and breathe in deep.

“Love you,” he mumbles and looks as though he could almost fall asleep against you. You almost repeat it before the unsettling realization crashes down on you.

That’s impossible, isn’t it? You’re not even the same species!

“Yuuji,” he snaps his head up, pinning his ears back at the rough sound of your voice, “Did you do this?” you ask him, showing him the pregnancy stick. He doesn’t seem to understand so you put it in words he can. “Breed?” you ask.

He senses that you finally get it and gives you the widest smile you think you’ve ever seen him wear. It’s almost enough to make you laugh. Almost.

“You’re downright proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

Happily, he buries his forehead against your stomach. “Good boy?”

You sigh but pet him anyway, seeing that this is very much your fault in the first place. Besides you can’t stay mad at that face. “Very good boy.”

[iravesh]

— When they want to ask something but too shy.

He said goodbye to go to work and saw you busy in the kitchen. He wanted to go straight away but felt something was missing. So he stopped in front of the door and started talking.

Zayne : "i will go to work now."

You : "okay, keep up the good work and hope all goes well."

Zayne : "yeah, thank you. then, i'll go now?"

You : "oh sure, be careful and take care of yourself while work."

Zayne : "..."

You : "..."

Zayne : "hmm, okay."

You walking to the door and saw him still standing there not moving. You looked at him and stifled a laugh.

You : "what are you waiting for?"

Zayne : "nothing."

You hold the door when he is about to come out with his dull face. Then slowly stand on tiptoe and kiss his lips, you give Zayne a soft kiss and he is shocked. He smiled faintly before kiss your forehead.

You : "next time, remember that you don't need to chit-chat or ask me like that, okay? just do your thing as my husband."

Zayne : "i still don't have the courage, we haven't been married for long, so sorry if i'm a little awkward about doing it straight away. i will never make small talk again in the future when i want it."

You are going out to markets. After you finished getting ready, you saw Xavier looking at you from the bed. Then, you went into the room and sat on the edge of the bed to tell him.

You : "i'm going out for a while to the market to buy cooking ingredients. will you come along?"

Xavier : "no, i'm sleepy."

You : "alright then, is there something you want to buy?"

Xavier : "nothing, right now."

You : "okay, i'll go now."

When you stood up, his eyes couldn't lie that he was sad. Then in a low tone he said again.

Xavier : "can't we order online to eat today?"

You : "hmm? what did you just say?"

Xavier : "nah, nothing. it's cold, i will sleep again and use this blanket."

You chuckle when you saw his blushing face. Then pulled the blanket as it covered his whole body.

You : "of course, we can. why don't you just say it loudly? you're cold and want to cuddle, right?"

Xavier : "..."

He pulled you into the blanket and hugged you tightly. He also kissed your neck and closed his eyes with his ears and cheeks still red.

You cleaned the dusty bedroom window and let Rafayel paint nearby. until you finally looked at him, as he focused on watching you.

You : "what? you want to help me?"

Rafayel : "no, no. i'd rather get hung up on painting ideas than touch that dusty place."

You : "okay, then focus on your work."

He sigh. then he looked at the canvas again and painted carelessly. You saw that and approached him from behind.

You : "what's wrong?"

Rafayel : "ah, puh-lease. don't startle me like that."

You : "i didn't mean it like that, you just seemed unfocused since earlier. why?"

Rafayel : "i just need to shower because i feel sticky. and i think you also need too because you sweat, your work is done anyway right?"

You : "i see, i'll take a shower later. you can shower first if you want, i want to sit for a moment."

Rafayel : "but.."

You stopped when you heard that, then turned around as you were about to sit down and looked at him. He looked tired and stood up to go to the bathroom. You smirk.

You : "do you mind if i come in the shower with you?"

Rafayel : "NO! ah, i mean up to you."

You : "then come here and carry me."

He approached and carried you with a bridal style to the bathroom, while continuing to look at you and occasionally kissing your lips anxiously.

it's just all my delulu, hope you all like it and can deluluing with me lol 😭✋🏻.

[earthtooz]

x : APOLOGY ACCEPTED :*+ﾟ

in which: isagi doesn't like it when you give him the silent treatment.

warnings: 1.9k wc, gn!reader, fluff with a little angst, ooc!isagi (i tried), mentions of manhandling, sleepy isagi, mentions to arguments. food.

a/n: I FEEL ILL REREADING THIS why is this so bad hELP. for being the main character, it's hard asf to get good manga panels of isagi lol. anyways. enjoy this shit piece xx i can't believe this is my first isagi fic and i did him so wrong, i'm so sorry cri

“y/n?” echoes a voice from down the hallway, one laced with grogginess and fatigue, paired with the gentle padding of footsteps trudging their way to where you resided in the living room. in your periphery, isagi rounds the corner shirtless and messy bedhair, and not sparing him a glance proved itself a challenge. 

usually, you would’ve sprung up from your seat and greeted him good morning, but the soreness of your throat is a harsh reminder of the argument you had last night, and thinking too hard about it would press into the bruises of your ego, resurfacing awkward and sour feelings. yet, you still had to fight to contain the butterflies in your stomach upon seeing him and it becomes harder to fight when you realise that the first thing isagi did since waking up was find you, not even brushing his teeth or putting on a shirt. 

as adorable as he was, you don’t know what to say to him, unsure of where you stood since you both just went to bed last night, the problem never resolving itself. 

isagi’s face however, upon seeing you, lit up with a smile as bright as a thousand suns and endearing enough to crumble your resolve but you persevere with your tough facade. the true stake to the heart is the way his face drops when noticing your reluctance to acknowledge him. 

"y/n?" he asks again as greeting, waddling over to stand before you. you still don't look up at him from your phone. "why are you awake so early?"

silence.

"y/n?" prods the soccer star who now seats himself beside you, hand shaking yours a little in hopes of getting your attention. "you're mad at me, aren't you?"

you don’t know how to respond, remaining silent despite the countless words brewing in your mind that were unable to spill over to form a sentence. should you be nice? mean? petty? you could never have the heart to do the latter two, but-

"-i'm sorry," he mutters, placing his chin on your shoulder so he could give you his best puppy-dog eyes. you don’t react, no matter how hard you had to fight to not look at him because you knew that if you did, you’d crumble right into his arms. 

you miss the way his frown deepens with every shake of your shoulder that you ignore.

“you know i don’t like it when people ignore me.”

despite your cold shoulder, he still lingers around you, just now fast asleep after prying a spot on your lap for his head to fit, disturbing your peace with his hesitant invasion. naturally, you run your hands through his raven hair, lounging in the morning sun with your phone in one hand and your soccer sensation of a boyfriend in your lap.

eventually, the tranquillity is ruined alongside the urge to use the bathroom, but the difficult part of said task however, was getting isagi off your lap which turned out to be a carefully organised operation. gently lifting his head, you manage to shuffle away before laying him back down. somehow you manage to keep him from rousing, leaving you to tiptoe away without making much noise.

you went as far as you could because when you opened the bathroom door againÇ, isagi was lingering outside, slumber still evident in his face as he blinks sleepily at you. so much for leaving without waking him.

“oh. hi,” he greets, voice still ridden with sleep. he rubs his eye innocently, streaks of his nap engrained on his skin. 

he grumbles a sleepy murmur of your name as you slip away around him, giving isagi the chance to latch on to your waist. this wasn’t the silent treatment you were imagining, but you have half a mind and even less of a desire to shrug your boyfriend off, no matter how difficult your predicament is. 

“i need to brush my teeth,” the athlete mutters, dragging you into the bathroom with him. “we can do skincare together.”

you don’t have it in you to tell isagi that you’ve already done your morning routine so you settle for doing it a second time. not like it’ll hurt anyone, especially not your skin.

wordlessly, you do your morning routine alongside him and it’s oddly peaceful without the usual talking and music in the background. you get more of a chance to admire isagi and his boyish features, shyly looking away from his gaze every time his eyes meet yours in the bathroom mirror. after putting away all the products, you don’t move very far before the dark-haired latches himself to you again.

he remains like that even as you continue with chores and tasks you assigned yourself, deciding that there’s no place he’d rather be than half-asleep behind you whilst you sort through laundry, organise your drawers, and fix organise the kitchen cabinets. he’s gracious enough to help a little, holding spices and cans here and there.

if you tried to shake him off, isagi would grumble and come right back, never straying too far away for too long.

his insistence to stay like this was endearing, but very irritating, especially it was hindering your productive. however, your will to scold him for it is at an all-time low so you’ll have to continue living with another being wrapped around you until isagi gives up or you tell him off.

you didn’t have to wait long for the latter. after you were done with organising- or rather when isagi was fed up of standing, he drags you right back to your shared bedroom, silently arranging the two of you on your shared bed with his strength, moving you into a comfortable position under the duvet. 

“please stop,” you demand quietly as if you were silent enough, you wouldn’t technically break the silent treatment.

he immediately perks up at the sound of your voice and his name on your lips, a wide smile breaking out on his face. “babe!” isagi flops on you, the ‘oof’ that escapes you not going unnoticed, “you talked.”

“isagi, please give me some space.”

the smile on the soccer player’s face completely melts away and he furrows his eyebrows, causing guilt to strike you in the heart as he reluctantly moves away from you. the use of his last name in comparison to his usual, affectionate-filled nicknames didn’t soften the blow directed at him either. 

“is this because of last night?” he asks, resting his chin on your sternum. “i’m sorry about everything that i said.”

“isagi,” he stops rambling. “please, i just need some space right now.” 

“okay, i’m sorry. i’ll go now.”

he shuffles out from under the covers rather quickly, picking up a shirt from his closet before walking out with it half-on. you call out his name only to hear the front door slam close and you wince slightly at the sound, guilt weighing heavily on your heart.

when you said you needed space you didn’t mean for isagi to leave the apartment completely.

if you had set your boundaries clearer this morning maybe you could have avoided this scenario. now isagi’s out of the house and you don’t know where he’s even going or when he’s returning and the thought is enough to scare you, riddling you with enough anxiety for your heart to sink to your feet. it’s getting hard to breathe too and your mind is racing with countless thoughts that all pile on top of each other.

texting isagi was a flunk too, he left his phone at home and only took his wallet. 

what did you do? what time would he be back? 

could he have gone to bachira’s? nagi’s? without his phone though? isagi wouldn’t usually go very far without a device at the very least. maybe he’s just out for a walk to clear his mind. yeah, that sounds right, isagi loves walks after all so who knows when he’ll be back. speaking of walking, you might benefit from one right now too-

“-i’m home!” a voice shouts out, breaking you out of your funk like hammer shattering a glass.

practically running out of the bedroom, you disregard the shards of hurt, running over them to see isagi staring at you with wide eyes. he holds a bakery bag and a bouquet of flowers- your favourites, in one hand and the apartment keys in the other.

“oh, y/n, are you okay?” he asks fondly, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter before wandering over to you. without thinking, you reel him in to a hug when he’s close enough, half jumping onto him as the soccer player catches you effortlessly, surprised by your sudden show of affection. “i thought you were mad at me?”

“you scared me, you doofus,” you say into his shoulder with a watery laugh, relief flooding your body like no other at the feeling of his warmth against yours again. “don’t just leave like that ever again.”

“i’m sorry! i wanted to say sorry because of how big of a dick i was to you last night and this morning.”

“you left so abruptly! i thought i angered you even more or something,” you laugh, all watery and emotional. 

isagi snakes a hand up to your face, cradling it. “that wasn’t my intention, i didn’t mean to scare you.”

“apology accepted and i’m sorry too. i was mean to you last night as well and i should have communicated properly with you this morning. wasn’t fair on my end.”

“apology accepted,” he says with a charmingly boyish grin. you have an urge to kiss it off. “i love you.”

“you make it so hard to stay mad at you. i love you too,” you mutter before isagi’s pressing his lips to yours, pouring all his love for you to breathe in, filling you with reassurance. you smile against him, unable to contain it, which then causes him to mimic you, and the kiss breaks away because the two of you are laughing too much. 

isagi will be the death of you. 

your eyes glance behind him and the striker follows your line of sight. “i got your favourite cake too by the way, last one the bakery had. guess i’m one lucky guy, huh?”

“the stars aligned perfectly just for you.” 

“i agree,” mutters isagi before leaning in to leave a kiss on your forehead. 

“should we have some cake now?” you question, loosening your arms around him to back away and  faltering when he doesn’t let you. his grip around your waist is tight and unforgiving as mischief shines in the dark-haired’s eyes.

then, he pulls you right back, peppering your face in endless kisses whilst you giggle in response to each one. the more he plants the more you want to pull away out of reflex but his hold forbid for you to travel too far, leaving you vulnerable to all of his advances.

“i love you,” he repeats with each press against your skin.

“yoichi, stop!” you giggle. the sound is a remedy to his pain.

“can’t stop, i have a whole day of affection to make up for.”

you shove his shoulder teasingly, “later.”

“later. i’ll never make you mad again, i swear. that was the worst day of my life. next time you do this, i’d rather you end me.”

[itshonestlynotme]

Danny's turn

It's the start of Harry's fourth year and Danny is entering her first year.

[Regulus Black x Fem Potter! reader]

word count: 722

warnings: nothing lol

note: Three more chapters after this one

The summer before Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts was a whirlwind of excitement, nerves, and—as always—mischief in the Potter-Black household. But this year, the buzz wasn't just about the Triwizard Tournament. No, the bigger event—at least according to the family—was that Danica Potter-Black, their resident broody genius, was finally heading to Hogwarts.

"She’ll be in Slytherin," Regulus said one evening as the family sat around the fireplace. He leaned back in his chair, a book open on his lap. "Mark my words."

Harry, sprawled across the rug with Danny's legs resting on his back, snorted. "Yeah, sure, Baba. You said that about me too, remember?"

Regulus gave an exaggerated sigh. "Yes, well...you're James' child. No cunning bone in your body."

"Hey!" Harry protested as Y/N burst out laughing beside him.

"He's got a point, sweetheart," she teased. "You do tend to wear your heart on your sleeve."

"Unlike Danny here," Harry grumbled, tossing a pillow backward. It hit Danny squarely in the stomach, but she didn’t even flinch. The eleven-year-old had her nose buried in Advanced Magical Theory—a book meant for sixth-years.

"I’m still deciding," Danny said coolly, flipping a page without looking up. "Slytherin or Ravenclaw. They're both fine options."

Harry groaned dramatically. "You're such a little snob."

"And you're predictable," Danny shot back. "Hazzy, you practically begged to be in Gryffindor."

"I did not beg."

"Yes, you did," Regulus said with a smirk.

Y/N laughed harder. "You did, love. It's okay. We still adore you."

Harry dropped his head into his arms, groaning. "This family’s the worst."

Platform 9¾ was, as always, a chaotic mess of trunks, cats, owls, and frantic parents. Harry stood beside Danny, who was watching everything with her usual quiet intensity. She was dressed neatly in a crisp button-up and black jeans, her curls pulled back into a braid that Y/N had wrestled into submission that morning.

"See that kid over there?" Harry leaned toward her, nodding toward a nervous-looking boy holding a toad. "Neville Longbottom. Super nice. If you get lost, find him."

Danny arched an eyebrow. "You mean the boy who melted his own cauldron in first year?"

Harry winced. "He's improved."

Regulus crouched beside his daughter, adjusting the strap on her satchel. "Remember, starshine, you don’t have to decide who you are today. The Hat will know where you belong."

Danny nodded, though her lips pressed into a thin line.

Y/N kissed the top of her head. "And if you get nervous, remember that you know more spells than half the seventh-years."

Danny finally smiled. "Because Baba taught me illegally?"

"Technically, it was more of a loophole," Regulus muttered.

The train whistled, and Harry ruffled Danny's hair. "C’mon, Bug. Time to go."

As Harry led her toward the train, Danny suddenly stopped. She turned and ran back to her parents, wrapping her arms tightly around Regulus first, then Y/N.

"Love you," she whispered.

"We love you too," Y/N said, voice thick.

Regulus hugged her tightly, then cupped her cheek. "Go show them what a Black can do."

Danny gave a sharp nod and marched after Harry.

From the window, Harry waved at his parents as the train pulled away. Beside him, Danny stood on her tiptoes, her eyes already scanning the train for potential threats—or opportunities.

"First-year nerves?" Harry asked.

Danny smirked. "Please. I’ve been ready since I was six."

The Sorting Hat’s mouth opened wide as it sat atop Danica's head.

"Ahhh…interesting. Very interesting indeed. Ambitious…clever…calculating…but also…hmm…you love your family more than anything. Brave for them. Protective."

Danny gripped the edge of the stool. Not Gryffindor. Not Gryffindor.

"Not Gryffindor? Ah. Like your brother…though you wouldn't do terribly there either. You’ve got that same sharp mind your mother has…and your father’s…ah yes…his talent. So…where to put you…?

The entire hall seemed to hold its breath.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table erupted into cheers. Danny slid off the stool, her face calm but her heart racing. As she sat down beside a fourth-year named Gemma Farley, she sneaked a glance at the staff table.

Her mother gave her a wink.

Danny's lips twitched upward. She turned to the table of green and silver and thought, Yeah. This fits.

Meanwhile, Harry groaned across the hall at the Gryffindor table. "Baba’s never gonna let me live this down."

previous chapter <--> next chapter

[evolnoomym]

Birds of a Feather 🌙☀️

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: A peek into the future.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 0.8 k

Authors note: First of all Happy Birthday to my Wife @joelmillerisapunk and myself, I love you so much Sunshine (we are literally Scorpio twins) 🫶🏻 This was supposed to be something else, a whole multi-chapter Fic based around this couple (which I still plan on writing) but as you know my life kinda changed completely so I was busy with taking care of that instead. I hope y’all like this little gift I’ve prepared.

Warnings: no use of y/n, Female reader, Female OC, FFM, beautiful domestic vibes, getting married, implied age-gap, cock lol, throuple,

Shoutout to @saradika @strangergraphics and @steddiecameraroll-graphics 💛

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. You are always welcome to talk with me about my writing. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🫶🏻

If someone would’ve told you that your future is gonna look like this you would’ve never believed it. So full of love, happiness and joy, exactly what you deserve after all these painful years. You finally get to wake up and be happy about it. Free of the past that kept dragging you down into the abyss. Meeting Sunny changed everything, you spend hours day after day talking to her and never once getting tired of each other. Love at first sight. Within months the decision was made to leave everything behind, runaway and move in with her.

It may seem rushed to others, but not once since then did you regret leaving. Sunny and you quickly fell into a blissful domestic routine, waking up together in bed, making breakfast for each other, cleaning the house like maniacs together and let’s not forget about those countless trips to Costco while listening to music you both loved. Movie nights cuddled up on the couch, tending to the vegetable garden in the backyard and all the dates Sunny planned, showing off the beautiful hidden spots of her town.

Of course one day the topic of getting married came up and it wasn’t surprising that the both of you had similar dreams, tying the knot in Italy. A month after that conversation Sunny got down on one knee and popped the question, which of course you immediately said yes to. A couple weeks after she slipped that moon shaped diamond down your finger it was time to walk down the aisle. It was a small ceremony. One of the best days in your life, one you won’t ever forget. The day you married the love of your life.

A year has since passed and if someone, again, would’ve told you that it will get even better you would have not believed it.

Life was already pretty perfect, but then you met Joel Miller that fateful night, 6 months ago, at the local bar. Sunny and you had talked about sharing someone but the opportunity never came. Joel however was different from those other guys, his interest was not driven by perversion, no, he was genuine and respectful. A mature man who knows what it takes to make a gal happy. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the sweetest brown eyes and luscious brown locks streaked with grey.

In the beginning you felt like a traitor for feeling the way you did about Joel.

Sunny ever the Angel reassured you each time that you are not a bad person for loving more than one person, after all she loved him too.

Those doubts feel silly now as you stand in the kitchen of the house you three share. Glancing out of the big window above the countertop you can see Sunny in the garden outstretched on a big blanket. She’s soaking up the last rays of sunlight and the golden hues make her look so angelic. It’s November 10th, her birthday and yours too.

You quietly step out onto the porch, tiptoeing over to her, she seems to sense your presence and opens her eyes. “Hii Babygirl,” Sunny’s sweet voice greets you. As you sink down to your knees, she sits up on her knees and slides her arms around your waist. “What did you do inside?” Sunny asks after pressing her soft lips on yours. “I cleaned the kitchen,” you try to lean in for another kiss “Wait I already cleaned the kitchen this morning,” Sunny pulls back and tilts her head questioning “are you okay Baby?” She knows you so well. “Yeah I’m just nervous, do you think he has something planned for us?”

Sunny chuckles “I sure hope he does or else he won’t get his cock sucked tonight,” her boldness still makes you blush furiously “ awww Baby no need to get shy, it’s okay I know you love that cock.” She smirks and you can only nod bashful.

“Yes, but shouldn’t he do something to us?” You pout your lips and Sunny takes the opportunity to kiss you again. She strokes through your hair gently “He will definitely do something to us, but that gift you want probably the most has to wait for a little longer.”

“I know, maybe we can give him that for his birthday?” You suggest in a giddy tone.

“Would it really be a surprise if he’s actively involved in making that gift?” She retorts.

“No, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes I do, let’s talk about it with him okay sweet cheeks?” You nod.

Sunny’s attention is pulled to something behind you “Speaking of the devil,” Sunny smiles and points to something behind you.

When you whip around you see Joel with two huge bouquets in his arms, a big smile on his face and even after he’s worked a hard shift he still looks breathtakingly handsome. And when he opens his mouth to bless your ears with his deep Texas drawl you are immediately put at ease.

“There are my two pretty girls, now who’s ready for a Birthday Party?”

Friends: @beefrobeefcal @pedrospatch @penvisions @tightjeansjavi @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @iamasaddie @syd-djarin @msjarvis @mermaidgirl30 @noxturnalnymph @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @yorksgirl @sin-djarin @thundermartini @clawdee @almostfoxglove @ace-turned-confused @always-andromeda @sawymredfox @morallyinept @ovaryacted @toxicanonymity @luxurychristmaspudding @rivnedell @moonlitbirdie @zloshy @sixhours @merz-8 @punkshort @beardedjoel @sp00kymulderr @joelslegalwhre @baronessvonglitter @tonysopranosrobe @pedropeach @ozarkthedog @joelsdagger @whocaresstillthelouvre @littlemisspascal

©️ evolnoomym 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Here’s another if you want it—since you got to the end of your requests, but I don’t want to spam you, lol. This feels like a musician x musician setup—like they’re both in love and performing together on the road possibly

What a pleasure this was. 🥰 Divider was made from an image by Patrick Hendry via unsplash.

warnings: nudity; otherwise pure fluff

You are beautiful tonight, more than you usually are. No, you know what? Beautiful doesn’t cut it. You’re a vision. I watched you from the shadows earlier as you opened the show for me. You would be so mad if you ever found out I do this every night. I am aware of the risk, but I cannot help myself. Christ, the way your eyes lit up as the crowd caught fire. You were unsure if they would. So nervous. But how could they not?

And now you are here, right in front of me. I don’t think I ever felt the lyrics as strongly as I do tonight. Deep in my bones. They mock me. Speaking of everything I yearn to do with you in this very moment—in every moment. But we can’t. Nobody knows, and we would like to keep it that way, for a while at least. 

As always, the moment is over too soon. But instead I get to hold you now, and there is no power strong enough that could stop my eyes from falling closed as I feel you near. Your warmth. The softness of your skin. Your scent.

I swallow hard and I am glad you pull away first. I could not have. You wave to the crowd, your face shining brighter than the sun as you leave. And as if I hadn’t just held you, I already long to hold you in my arms again.

With a soft click, the door unlocked and you let yourself into the room. The keycard had been slipped under your door a little while ago, a ritual you and him had perfected these past few weeks. 

The room lay in complete silence, apart from the faint splashing of water and you did not need to take a look at the clothes that had been scattered around the room everywhere, dropped right where he had been standing or carelessly tossed aside in a hurry, to know where you would find him. He had probably planned on being done by the time you got here, but you did not mind at all. On the contrary. 

So you let your clothes join his on the plush carpet and followed the sound of the running shower. Through the thick haze you made out his lean back behind the steamed up glass and your heart jumped upon the prospect of resting your head against it after covering it in a myriad of butterfly kisses. His skin was blazing from the heat of the water, yet he did not even flinch as you wrapped your arms around his chest and pulled yourself against him. Instead he turned, slowly, not a single word leaving his lips, those pink pillows of temptation. Mesmerised by the water that cascaded down his face, you just stared, following its path down his neck, through the dip of his jugulum and further down his chest. 

But soon your face was framed by a pair of strong hands. Gently he tilted your head upwards, your eyes wandering all the way back to his eyes, a sea of green. Unfathomable, most would say, but they were not, not to you. You knew exactly what he was thinking and your eyes already closed in anticipation of his sweet lips. 

But nothing could ever prepare you for the moment you actually felt them against your own. It was pure magic, every time. And tonight it just held this extra spark. Maybe it was the water, that steaming sensation as it rolled off his face and onto yours. Or the way he held you, determined, but not possessive, never possessive. You were his, as he was yours, freely, no need to take anything by force or secure it out of fear. 

“I’m glad you came,” he whispered, his lips moving against yours, as always reluctant to pull away. Naturally. It just felt too good. 

“You know I can’t resist you.”

“Good. Neither can I.”

This time it was you who pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to close the gap between the two of you, no matter how vanishingly small it was. And then you kissed him again, and again, and again. Until your skin started to wrinkle and the water felt barely tepid anymore. 

It seemed like an eternity ago as you lay in his arms now, a fluffy bathrobe keeping you cozy and warm. Lazy fingers had found their way underneath the white terry cloth that covered his chest minutes ago, tenderly racking up and down, basking in the silky fluff that covered his pecs. 

“Are you tired?” he enquired, and your fingers stopped their gentle caress for a second.

“What if I were?”

“Then sleep.” You had feared his voice might hold a pinch of disappointment. But it did not. And you loved him all the more for it. Instead he moved, carefully, adjusting his position so you could rest more comfortably. “I’ll hold you.”

“I shouldn’t stay.” Your protest was weak, muffled against his chest as you mirrored his movement and wrapped one arm and leg around him. 

But his agreement came even weaker. “You probably shouldn’t,” he mumbled into your hair before his lips found your forehead for a featherlight kiss.

“They’ll find out.”

Hands fisting a handful of white fabric, you pulled yourself an impossible notch closer to him. 

“They will.”

His voice was barely audible anymore, your concerns fizzling out as sleep found you both. You could still worry about that tomorrow. 

[captn-trex]

oldest trick in the book

Hardcase x F!Reader

word count: 3.4k

description: you've been secretly pranking hardcase as payback for a prank he pulled on you, but this time he catches you in the act

warnings/tags: friends to lovers I suppose, hardcase is a smug little shit at the beginning & a little bit adhd-coded, reader is described as shy/anxious and potentially also neurodivergent in some way but I wasn't writing it to be like that on purpose am I telling on myself? I feel like this is very cheesy lol

a/n: alright. I wouldn’t say this is my best work but I just needed to get it out of my system. this definitely took a more sweet turn than I was anticipating, probably because I didn't plan it at all and just pulled it outta my ass. I blame @ghostymarni making me thirst for this man to a concerning degree

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

Perhaps if anyone knew what you were doing, they’d think it was weird, and honestly, maybe it was.

You tiptoed into the barracks, your footfalls light and ear reaching out in search of any noises. You knew there shouldn’t be anyone in here at this time, but it didn’t stop you being cautious. After all, that was how you had kept this operation going so long.

Not entirely sure which bunk was the one you were searching for, you tried to look for any identifying items. A pack of smokes? He didn’t seem the type. Hairbands? Definitely not, that one most likely belonged to Tup. A pile of laundry? Could well be his. Among other things, you knew Hardcase could be messy, something you had picked up on in your time studying him, figuring out his daily routine. It was much the same as the other clones, naturally, but in watching him you’d realised just how different from them he was.

As strange as this all sounded, you didn’t start it. At least, that was how you rationalised what you were doing.

Hardcase was a known prankster aboard the Resolute. Him and a few of his brothers, namely Fives, filled their spare time by terrorising the rest of the crew, and you were not immune. You had been burned by them on several occasions, and the most recent was a tipping point for you.

That time, it had been just Hardcase, and he had made you look a fool in front of your employees. You were the head technician aboard the venator, and standing in front of your team, giving a briefing without being privy to the ‘kick me’ sign stuck to your back, was not something you had been pleased about. It was especially irritating as you were still relatively new in the role at the time, and to have your leadership put into question, being a little shy to begin with, did more damage to your confidence that Hardcase probably realised.

So, you had been pranking Hardcase back. They weren’t so much proper pranks as harmless inconveniences for him, but in any case, it was a satisfying form of payback. Most of the time you’d steal his things only for them to ‘turn up’ in the strangest of places, none where you could be implicated, and other times you arranged little situations designed to embarrass him.

The only problem with that was that he refused to be embarrassed, and honestly you admired him for it. His ability to brush off jokes at his expense was commendable, and made you feel like a spiteful cynic for reacting in the way you had to his admittedly innocent prank. Though, you were having too much fun with it now to stop. You knew you were safe from him suspecting you, considering he probably just saw you as the quiet ship tech who he liked to bother when he was back on the Resolute, and he was yet to mention it if he did.

So here you were, rifling through the drawers beside his bunk for something you could steal or use to your advantage. You opened the final draw and your lips curled into a grin as you saw the only item inside: his music player and headphones. You had stolen them before, and remember him being particularly irritated about it, more so than at your other exploits.

You were so caught up in your glee at finding the player again that you didn’t register that someone had entered the room. The pile of dirty blacks should’ve been a clue really, but when someone cleared their throat and you whipped around, finding Hardcase himself with just a towel slung around his waist, you couldn't help but gawk.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his suspicion as obvious as his amusement at your flustered state.

Your hands were behind your back to hide the almost stolen item, your eyes fighting to keep away from his bare chest and failing miserably. You had no idea that his tattoos stretched down his chest, and the way they dipped beneath the edge of the already dangerously low towel had your mind reeling.

“Nothing, just a— it's a routine check” you finally peeped out, trying to sound casual. You had never been good at lying, and you could tell that much was obvious to Hardcase by the way his lips twisted in a smirk.

You quickly darted for the door, the offending item still behind you back to not get caught. You knew the jig was going to be up soon enough, but you didn't feel like answering for your crimes while he was only wearing a towel and you couldn't keep your eyes on his. Unfortunately, Hardcase had other ideas.

He reached out, blocking the exit and causing a small startled yelp to fall from your lips. Your eyes trailed along the toned arm that stopped you from leaving, lingering on the tattoo that circled his bicep, and finally making your way up to his face.

“A routine check?” he spoke, smirking broadly at you, “mesh'la, we both know that's well beneath you”

“Well, I like to know what's going on aboard my ship” your voice was wavering and you internally cursed yourself for letting him get to you like this.

He leaned in a little, his voice dropping fractionally, “you need to know what's going on in my bunk specifically?”

Hardcase had always had fun toying with you, even outside of the pranks. When he'd seek you out during his moments of respite and natter away, telling you a great many things about his most recent deployment, he'd always find a way to gently push your boundaries, not enough to make you uncomfortable, but just enough to get you flustered. It was low hanging fruit really, with you being so shy it was so easy to make you blush, as you knew you were now.

“I— it wasn't just— I was—” you shut your mouth, just looking up at him not knowing how to explain yourself without some kind of confrontation.

Hardcase stared back, his gaze appraising and amused. He nodded behind you, “what have you got there?”

Your eyes went wide, “nothing! It's like I said, just doing some checks”

You knew you were bright red, betraying your lies even further than your shaky and stuttering voice, and you had to look away from him. He took the opportunity to quickly reach around you, taking back his property and holding it above his head so you couldn't seize it again, even though you tried to. He was much taller than you, it was helpless.

“Ah, my player, you know this has gone missing be—” his eyes thinned as he looked back at you.

You rocked back onto your heels and clasped your hands together, looking up at him innocently. You knew you were caught now.

“…Before” he finished the thought and his eyes widened, “you're the one who's been stealing from me?”

You were surprised to see that he was grinning as he said it, and it only unnerved you more.

“No! I don't do that sort of—” you tried to argue your case, but he wasn't having it.

“And yet here you are… stealing”

You looked away, your face aflame, and uncertain of how to get out of this situation. Before you could figure it out, you felt his hand on your chin, tipping your face back his way.

“I must admit, I'm impressed” He said as he looked down at you with a thoughtful expression.

“Impressed?” you practically squeaked, unsure what direction this was going in.

“Mhm” he hummed as he ran his thumb over your chin, “I didn't realise you were so… devious”

You didn't say anything, but one side of your mouth quirked up on instinct. His gaze flicked down to watch it happen and then he peered back into your eyes, mischief swirling within his own.

“You know, you owe Jesse an apology” Hardcase said, towering over you even more as he stepped into your space, and you frowned a little, not understanding his words. “I called him a thief and said he was stealing my stuff, started watching him more closely”

You were entirely captivated by him, hanging on his every word, and it was as much a shock to you as it was amusing to him. He was still holding your chin and with his proximity to you now, your head was tipped back to look up at him.

He gripped you tighter with a calculating smirk, “Only… you were the little thief I should’ve had my eye on”

You gulped, the deep baritone timbre he was employing evidently having its intended effect, and rendering you speechless.

“Better watch your back, mesh'la”

You didn't know what that word meant, he’d said it to you before, but that was no comfort as he left your space and went back over to his bunk, placing down the items you had tried to steal. Still rooted in your place and watching him, he hooked his thumbs into his towel, and smirked at you once again when he noticed you standing there.

“you're not gonna try steal my towel too, are you?”

At that point you scrambled from the barracks and back to your own quarters, too embarrassed to do anything dignified.

It had been so long since Hardcase had caught you in the act, that you'd forgotten just how long it had been.

You'd kept your eye on him ever since, and watched out for incoming pranks every moment of every day, but nothing had happened. Hardcase went on like he hadn't even caught you that day, continuing to throw small adulations your way as he passed you by in the corridor, occasionally sitting by you in the mess hall, coming to irritate you when you were working late. Though, unfortunately for you, it wasn't so irritating anymore. Maybe it never had been.

While you were weary of incoming tricks, his presence was such a simple joy that you didn't mind it at all. It was often soothing in a particularly strange way. You didn't speak an awful lot, but Hardcase would fill the silences with stories of his time in deployment, telling you about the tricks that him and his brothers had got up to. The friendship between you worked well because of it. He didn't mind that you were quiet, and in fact seemed to respect you more for it.

You were working in your office, sat on the floor with a cup of caf balanced dangerously on your knee as you tinkered with your malfunctioning datapad. You would be sat at your desk, but the mess that was atop it made doing any sort if work difficult. Besides, you preferred working on the floor, it made the work feel less tedious.

The door slid open and Hardcase strolled in, as if the office were his own, and he walked over to your position with a grin on his face. Without a word he sat down opposite you, cross legged to mirror your posture, his knees almost touching yours as he grabbed the mug of caf from your knee and took a sip. He placed it down on the floor as you eyed him suspiciously.

This behaviour wasn't abnormal for him, and you didn't mind it, but you were still suspicious of any incoming pranks. Your eyes roved his body, looking for anything unusual, but you found nothing. His expression was amused, watching you evaluate him.

“What?” you asked, giving him an uneasy look.

“What?” he asked back.

You narrowed your eyes at him. He wasn't usually bugging you at this time of day, usually he came by during the evening, but right now it was early in the morning. You had gotten up before everyone else to finish up a personal project; fixing your datapad. It had been on the fritz for a few days and it was starting to affect your workflow.

“Why are you awake?” you asked, looking back down to your datapad and flipping the tool in your hand to access a new angle.

You saw him shrug in your peripheral, “why not”

“As good a reason as any, I suppose” you muttered, your focus more drawn to your work than him.

He began tapping his foot gently, watching you as you worked. It was more of a comforting rhythm than a distraction, but you noticed it all the same. Then it stopped, as if he'd been thinking and come to a conclusion.

“Tell me something mesh'la” he spoke quietly, and your gaze snapped up to his, “have you been watching your back like I suggested?”

You frowned, suddenly very unnerved, “yeah, I suppose so”

“You've been watching me? making sure I'm not up to anything” he asked, the hint of a smirk lifting one side of his lips.

You were hesitant, but you answered, “yeah”

He hummed, nodding a little, “and what have you noticed?”

“Nothing”

“Nothing? Mesh'la, I'm hurt” he pouted, his hand rested over his heart, mockingly upset.

You huffed, unimpressed, “stop saying that, I don't know what it means”

In a distinctly agitated manner, you continued on tinkering with your device. Hardcase tipped his head so that he entered your field of view, trying to gain your attention.

“Come on, humour me”

Your eyes flicked up once again, and the look he was giving you made your stomach flip. His smile seemed genuine, so you put down your datapad and tool, clasping your hands together in your lap and giving him your undivided attention.

“I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary” you said honestly, looking for an indication of what he might have done in his reaction.

His eyes narrowed a little, sending you an almost puzzled look, “then what is the ordinary?”

“I don't know…” you trailed off, the response somewhat of a default, but Hardcase looked strangely interested, “I don't need to tell you what you do ordinarily”

He chuckles, “maybe not, but go on anyway”

“Okay…” you gave him a strange look, not understanding why he wanted you to report your findings about his everyday routine. You thought for a moment, looking down to your fiddling hands, “well, you… you’re always more excitable right before meal times, just because you have more energy then. You use your music player when you've been around your brothers for a long time and they're being loud. You sometimes shy away from things if you've said you're going to do them, but otherwise you're impulsive. Uh— not that that’s a bad thing. You're… more focused than your brothers give you credit for, at least, when you are focused it's—”

You halted when you looked up, Hardcase’s expression was so tender that you were startled into silence for a moment.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked hesitantly, your body recoiling unsurely.

“You already knew all that stuff about me before I said to watch your back?” his voice was quiet, quieter than usual, and everything about his demeanour made you put your guard up further.

“Yeah, I mean I—” you stopped, eyes widening as the credit dropped, “wait…”

Hardcase’s lips lifted into an amused smile, though it was no less genuine.

“This was the trick, wasn't it?” you gestured vaguely in the space between you, “getting me to watch out all the time?”

He huffed a small laugh as his grin grew, “maybe, I figured you might torture yourself trying to figure out where it was coming from, so I just let you get on with it”

You shook your head in disbelief of your own foolishness, a light scoff passing your lips as you looked back down to get on with fixing your datapad. You really should have thought of that, but the more you let your mind dwell on it, the more you realised it was the perfect prank for someone as anxious as you.

You heard your name called before you could pick up your datapad once more, letting your eyes wander back to the man before you.

“I don't—” he paused, mouth twisting as if holding himself back before he found the right words, “I didn't know you… knew all that stuff”

“Well, it's just— no one pays attention to me, so it's easy to move around unnoticed” you shrugged nonchalantly, “it was pretty easy to figure you out”

“My brothers haven't figured out half the stuff you just said” he pointed out, his smile bordering on a smirk.

You scoffed quietly, “they're just not paying attention then”

“And you are?”

“I—” you then realised what he was really saying, what he had been saying, or trying to imply. You had to look down with the way a rosy tint spread across your cheeks, mumbling a reply, “I don't know, maybe”

Hardcase leaned forwards, resting an elbow against his knee as he tapped your chin gently, urging you to glance up at him once more. He was a lot closer than he had been, his face only a few inches from yours now, but you didn't back away.

“I did notice you, for the record” he said gingerly, his tone far more reverent than you were prepared for, and your insides constricted at the sound.

You waited for him to continue, make himself clear; you didn’t want to misinterpret what he was saying. Looking between his eyes to try and search for his meaning yourself, he let a small smile lift one side of his mouth to give you a more subdued version of his usual lopsided grin.

“I noticed you watching me, I just didn't know why”

You tilted your head to the side, “why didn't you say anything?”

“Didn't want to get my hopes up” Hardcase shrugged.

A frown creased your brow as you tried to understand, “I don't— um…what?”

He chuckled, the sound so warm and inviting that your heart skipped a beat, “I guess I hoped you were watching me because you were… interested in me, or something”

As his eyes darted to the side, his hand curling around the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, you saw the way his cheeks bloomed with colour, his eyes a little wide as if he'd said something he shouldn't have. You had never seen him act so bashful, and something about it made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

“And if I was?”

“What?” his eyes snapped back to yours, growing even wider.

“Interested in you” you clarified.

Hardcase's mouth hung open slightly, and you couldn't help but let a gentle smile curve your lips at his almost shocked expression.

“You are?” he was now grinning, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

You nodded tentatively, and his hands reached forward to grab you. A squeak left you at the sudden motion, and you had been pulled into his lap before you could even comprehend what's going on. His grin was enough already, but the steadfast grip he had on you made any self-discipline you had crumble into nothing.

“Mesh'la…” he whispered the foreign word as his eyes trailed the lines of your features, his fingers gently brushing across your cheekbone and resting his palm against you.

You offered a fake pout, and he chuckled, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, “sorry, can't help it”

He didn't seem very apologetic at all, and as much as it drew a laugh from you, it made your intrigue grow. The words were almost on your lips, to ask what the word meant, but Hardcase got there first.

His lips captured yours with an eagerness and fervour that made your heart implode, beating against your chest and his as his arms snaked around your waist and pulled you flush against him. It was good really, that he held you so tightly and kept you rooted in place, otherwise you may have melted into a puddle as his ardour thawed any of the apprehension within you.

You pulled away, unable to hold yourself back from asking, “what does it mean?”

“what?” he blinked at you, his expression almost worried at your sudden departure from his lips.

“Mesh'la” you clarified.

“Oh” he broke out into a grin, rubbing his nose against yours as he chuckled lowly, “I'm not telling”

You huffed with a frown but he just smiled broadly at you, his eyes shining with the usual lick of mischief. Of course he was still going to find a way to toy with you, even now. You shook your head and brought your lips back to his with a fond smile, and he melted against you, a blissful hum sounding in his throat and rumbling through his chest.

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @burningnerdchild @orangez3st

[honeysmoonn]

finnick odair who wants nothing more than for you to let him play with your hair the night before the quarter quell to calm his nerves.

warnings: fem!reader, small mentions of panic attacks, trauma : (, mentions of snow being a dick, fluff and sadness : (

a/n: thanks for the request! i tried to make this as in character as possible lol. big thanks to everyone for the reblogs and likes!!!! i love you all loads!!!!

finnick odair was the strongest person you knew, you were sure of it.

he held his head high and scolded people that had offensive comments. he was strong physically too, he knew how to handle a weapon, how to defend himself against an enemy. all of those things that made a victor a victor.

unfortunately, finnick hadn’t shown you the other side of him. he had never shown anyone. but now, after the announcement of the quarter quell being played with previous victors? he fell apart like a house of cards victim to a harsh wind.

you were barley holding yourself together too. the victory of your games had only come by the fact that the other tribute from your district, your friend, killed the last opponent before himself. it was a long and painful and treacherous game that you had barley made out of alive, forever cursed with the nightmares of the fallen tributes. forever cursed with the thought of death plaguing your mind. forever cursed with the loss of a friend. and forever cursed with the fact that you, a teenager, were seen as desirable to the citizens of the capitol.

little to your knowledge, finnick was cursed with the same tragedy. countless nights the two of you shared the same experience of curling deep into your bed and letting salt stream flow out your eyes and into your ears.

the first time you were aware of your shared experience was the night after president snow had announced that the quarter quell would be played by previous victors. your name was called, then his— finnicks. the two of you were pulled back behind the stage where you broke down on the cold cement floor. it seemed to come naturally, finnick to you. he fell to his knees beside you, muttering soft words of comfort while rubbing your back gently. you noticed the way his hands were wet with his own tears when he brushed a strand of hair out of your face.

finnick had been your mentor, he would go as far to say he had been your friend, but when you arrived back from your games with bloodshot eyes and bruised knuckles you disappeared. no one, not even your parents, heard from you for weeks. finnick tried his best to make you come out of the shell of your bedroom but everything seemed to remind you of the games— the bloodbath. and yet he still tried, for what? he didn’t know.

12 hours.

that's how long you, and the other tributes had until you were thrown back into the ring.

you couldn’t sleep. the glass windows looking down onto the capitol somehow made you feel claustrophobic. the bedsheets and clothes provided by that capitol that were supposed to make you feel warm burned and blistered your skin, leaving you to strip into shorts and a tank top, goosebumps speckled your skin but you couldn’t feel them. you were sure you were about to pass out, maybe then you wouldn’t have to fight.

until a soft knock sounded on the metal door.

your breath hitched, you tiptoed over and slowly pulled it open.

there, in all his glory, stood a restless finnick odair. he swallowed, and you could see the redness in his eyes, similar to how yours had once been. “hey… i’m sorry, did i wake you?” his voice was soft, much softer than anything you had ever heard from him.

“no, no, not at all…” you replied with the same tone as his. in an unspoken way, you opened the door to invite finnick in.

his bare feet squeaked against the cold floor but you didn’t say anything.

your throat made a weird noise but he didn’t say anything.

you sat on the bed, twisting the sheets between your fingers. it was weird, finnick standing in your room, looking weak. finnick wasn’t weak, was he?

“i’m really sorry—“ he started. his voice trembled and you frowned. he wasn’t weak, he was scared.

the clothes on your skin suddenly didn’t feel like lava, the bedsheets didn’t feel like fire. and you could tell finnick felt the same way. you patted the spot next to you and he sat down wordlessly.

when he was closer you could see the tears sitting on the edge of his waterline. the way his chin moved as if he was about to cry. your heart broke alongside his. “oh, finnick…” you sighed. the urge was to strong, you reached out and gently tugged his wrist towards you. his big body fell against yours with a sigh. “shh…” a hand went to rub his arm, the other finding its way to his golden hair.

the night went on long and finnick soon found himself positioned between your legs with his head on your chest. your hands in his hair. his hands wrapped around your middle.

it didn’t seem as weird as it should have. it felt natural. just like how it was when he comforted you for the first time. his eyes were shut, focused on the soft drum of your heart. it relaxed you too, his soft hair in between your fingers. “i’m sorry.” the boy finally murmured, his eyes still closed.

“oh finnick, don’t be sorry.” you were so soft with him, he didn’t have to be tough. “i needed this too.” a soft smile spread across your face and you couldn’t deny the way blood rushed to your cheeks when he tightened his grip around your middle.

“tomorrow…” he started, very soft. so soft you almost didn’t hear. “tomorrow i’m gonna promise to protect you, got it?” your heart fluttered.

“yeah, i got it. i’ll protect you too.”

finnick smiled. “thanks.”

and the next day he lived up to his promise, even if it meant a lecture from haymitch afterwards.

[f0point5]

literally anything with Max, Emilia, and Daniel please I’m begging after yesterday 🙏🙏🙏

No because this almost turned into a Singapore crack fic lol. But I saved it.

And yes I did listen to the song so that I could check this whole thing could happen within it’s time limit. But also this could so easily have been Tenerife sea but I Daniel-ed it up lol.

Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

✨Set in April 2024✨

I’ll drink what you think, and I’m high

It’s getting dark later now. It’s 7pm and the sun in only now setting over the mountainside, turning the clear sky all manner of gold and peach and baby blue. It’s the first good weather of the month, which is what gave you the idea of sitting out on the rooftop patio. Daniel just happened to call Max as you were mixing a Bellini, which is how he’d got roped into what turned into what you’d dubbed a “Wine and Whine” evening.

So there Max sits, listening to Daniel talk about grape yields while you fiddle with the stereo. Max interjects at the right moments, but mostly he’s watching you bent over in a tight Missoni dress, trying to connect your phone Bluetooth to the speakers.

That’s how good the dress looks, Max thinks to himself. I even remember the name of the shop.

“So I’m like mate, I don’t know shit about grapes, that’s what I pay you for,” Daniel explains now. “And he’s looking at me like I’ve fucked his grandma in front of him. But I’m right. I drive cars for a living and I don’t even like grapes, that’s his job,”

“Yeah, but what if-“

Max is cut off by the sound of your squeal. He looks across the patio to see you bathed in golden light, sporting a bright grin.

“Danny, it’s your song,” you declare, teetering toward the boys on your wedge heels.

“She’s so pissed,” Daniel says through a chuckle.

“I heard that,” you shoot back, holding a hand out to him. “Now, dance with me,”

The gentle strumming of a guitar gives way to an American accent with a somber tone.

Daniel rolls his eyes but gets to his feet, taking your hand and pulling you along the concrete to the middle of the patio.

The music is not Max’s taste, not something he understands, but it’s…warm.

That’s how he feels watching Daniel pull you close, starting to sway you in small circles around the patio. He thinks about how both you and he needed Daniel before you needed each other, how Daniel had been your friend when Max was too scared to be, and he’d been Max’s friend even when it must have been like salt in a wound.

Daniel looks down and says something to you that Max can’t hear. Whatever it is, it is has you rolling your eyes in the way you do when you’re trying not to tear up. He watches you nod in what seems like agreement before shrugging your shoulders.

In the next breath, Max hears your voice singing along above the music.

“We all know, you tiptoed,” you sing, “up to six foot, in grill the grid,”

This pulls a deep, throaty laugh and a “fuck you” from Daniel, his head thrown back so much that he pulls you forward with him.

You’re singing at each other now, bodies shaking through laughter. The sound of a harmonica pierces Max’s ears as Daniel twirls you under his arm, your eyes catching the light of the setting sun as you turn.

Fuck. You are so beautiful.

“Max, come take over,” Daniel calls, beckoning him with one hand. “I need another drink,”

Max gets up and goes over to your swaying form just as Daniel lets you go. He pats Max on the back as he passes, turning to look at you both before he slips through the patio door, out of sight due to the reflection in the glass.

Your glassy eyes and the heat of your skin make Max think you’re probably looking at two of him right now, but he doesn’t mind, as long as you’re looking at him. He takes hold of you, fighting a smile at the way you sink into him in a way you wouldn’t with Daniel. Your hand slides around his neck and his instinctively goes to rest on the curve of your hip, bringing you so close he can smell your perfume and Sauvignon blanc.

In the background, the music picks up, the southern drawl a little more lively even though the words are still morose.

“I don’t get why you guys like this song,” Max says, guiding you out and then under one of his arms so that your back his against his chest. “It’s about a funeral,”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “It’s about a family,” you tell him, craning your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

Max nods, letting go of one your hands to spin you out and then back towards him. He catches you smiling at the effortless way he moves you around. He may not particularly like dancing but he’s been given three gifts in life. One is coordination. The second is control.

“It’s about the little things that stick with you about the people you love. The things about them that made you who you are,”

And the third is you.

He still doesn’t hear the song the way you do. He doesn’t see the world the way you do. But he knows he wants to listen to you explain the world to him for however long he’s in it.

“It’s about a funeral,” he says plainly, which only makes you shake your head.

“I love you, Max Verstappen.” Your words are as plain as his.

He wants to say it back. He even opens his mouth to try. But sometimes, like now, Max hates that word because it seems so wholly inadequate. He’s never been good with words anyway.

Instead, he kisses you, a kiss that tips you backwards, has you leaning into the hand on your back that holds you up. He can feel you smiling against his lips as he straightens.

When he pulls away, you follow him, placing one more peck on his lips before leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder as you continue to dance. Max notices then that the golden hues have left the sky, the colour now the same as the Japanese Cherry blossoms. He breathes in the scent of roses on your skin as he pulls you closer.

“What was he saying to you?” He asks quietly, his cheek moving against yours as he speaks.

“Who?” Your reply is lazy, almost a purr against his neck.

“Daniel. What did he say while you were dancing?”

Max doesn’t know how he can tell you smile at that, but he knows.

“Oh. Nothing,” you say. The music slows, and a woman’s voice joins the man’s against a single guitar. “He thinks we’re yuppies,”