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da-rulah · 3 days ago

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So yesterday I got home from my Skeletour weekend, and I have some thoughts...

*MAJOR SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT*

I went to both the London and Birmingham rituals, with London being my first ever ritual. I went in with basically no knowledge of what had happened at previous dates (how the fuck I avoided so many spoilers I just don't know) and I'm so glad I did, because the emotional rollercoaster of night one in London with every twist and turn... I'll mostly talk about my London ritual step by step, and add some notes about Birmingham where there were differences. Let's get into it.

Myself and my friends queued from 11am at the venue, and managed to get about 5-6 rows from the barrier just slightly off centre to the left. A STUNNING view for my first ritual... In Birmingham we arrived at around 4, and we still managed to get about 3-4 rows from the front on the left hand side, right in front of the left platform.

Now...Peacefield?! Peacefield... it's giving Separate Ways by Journey in all of the right ways, and my god, what a hopeful song. I could barely hear the lyrics, I was too busy crying the second Papa walked on stage. Part of me is glad I didn't know the song, it gave me a chance to have my moment just watching him and sobbing. But despite it being a ballsy move to open with a song no one knows, just know this - it is an opener. If you haven't heard it, you'll hear it later on today when they drop it. Wow.

And then we dove straight into Lachryma, which just lends itself perfectly to a live performance. The key change? Delectable.

What I wasn't expecting, was Spirit... Are you... fucking joking?! You're gonna play Spirit for the first time since 2018 with no warning?! His long note at the end, held perfectly... The crescendo, the build throughout, then the crowd joining in with "SPIRIT!" and "ABSINTHE!"

He dropped Pinnacle and replaced it with Faith, which I was unaware of not having seen the setlist beforehand, so the second I heard the intro I prepared myself for that growl - not disappointed. Ho-ly fuck. And to hear the "Faith... is... mine, motherFUCKERS!" live?! Sedate me. You need to SEDATE me.

Just as the crowd goes quiet, Phantom wanders over to the middle and splits the crowd in two, making us battle it out for which side is the loudest. From what I remember, my side (the left) was the loudest at both shows, and his reaction to it was always such a treat. But Phantom handled the crowd so well and it really says a lot about him that even through the mask, with no words at all, he can command thousands of people like that.

And then Majesty.

To begin with, I couldn't see Papa at all where we were stood in London, because he was rising behind the drum kit. We had a much clearer view in Birmingham. But when I first saw him in the full regalia, I was just in awe. Majesty is such a grand song and the way he performed it lording over the crowd like that was spectacular. His animatronic-style choreography was fantastic and I can't explain how it worked so well, it just DID. I'm not totally sold that it's actually him doing it, as he doesn't have his handheld mic and I couldn't for the life of me see if he had a Britney-esque mic, plus the screen footage is definitely pre-recorded (you can tell because the movements weren't always spot on with what was happening live, but most of the time they were). The vocals are definitely live though, which is what makes me think he has a double for this (which we see during Umbra, but I'll get on that a little later...) After Majesty, he comes back out without the robes on, and he asks the crowd if they're warm - which yes, we bloody were. And he said he too was feeling a little steamy... In this cocky, flirty way that had me wanting to drop to my knees, if we're being totally honest here... He continues his little speech, but I can't remember what he said after that, I was quite distracted, but probably something about things burning and he transitioned into the Future is a Foreign Land. In Birmingham, he asked us if we were going to be nice to him because he was new, and if we would be gentle with him. Half the crowd (our side) said no, the other yes, and he told us to fight it out in the parking lot after. He told our side off for being mean. Rude.

TFIAFL is beautiful live. I don't know what else I can say about it, really. Everyone singing it together is such a vibe, and I do love how he changed the lyrics to "2034" to prevent it from being outdated. (although side note: he forgot he was supposed to do that in B'ham..."

We got the Devil Church instrumental as the Grucifix lighting rig raises which is a moment within itself, to be honest. You imagine the that choral singing watching it raise - so simple, but stunning.

And then Cirice. Listen, nothing compares to feeling that guitar riff in the pit of your stomach and just knowing what's coming. I've always loved the way they start Cirice so dark with just the one guitar - It's so ominous and feels like a tease as a builds. It's a song that never disappoints and not only does he cirice someone in the crowd, but the camera picks him up very well too, just like in RHRN so the whole arena can feel that stare... He blew kisses to the people he ciriced, but in Birmingham he chose someone on our side and we could see clearly that he held that kiss for a LONG time before he blew it...

Darkness at the Heart of my Love... Let's just say, my friend behind me leaned forward and said "here we go..." before it started and when it did, I got what he meant. I burst into tears again. That song touches a nerve for me anyway in a very personal way - those lyrics feel very close to home around a loss I suffered when I was young, and so I just sobbed so hard I couldn't even sing. Thank god for @angellayercake squeezing my hand the whole time. It was beautiful.

Then the fucker gave me WHIPLASH by kicking off Satanized. No time to dry the tears, I just had to sing along with the streaks on my face. The crowd shouting "BLASPHEMY!" and "HERESY!" at him... *chefs kiss*. And his reactions to them too! It was like he was curling back from us, feeling that shame that so many people with any kind of religious trauma can relate to. In London, Ryan (photographer Ryan, we love him) got a shot of the crowd and I can just see myself, @angellayercake and @her-satanic-wiles screaming/singing along with our mouths WIDE open. Rightly so, for Papa. (It's the attached photo above - if you know what I look like, you may just find me...)

Ritual is a banger and one that almost feels like it has to be on every tour - it's literally what we're all right there to do. But to scream the prayer along with Papa, with a resounding "NEMA!" at the end? Feels spectacular.

Umbra... Listen, if I'm gonna tell you one thing about Papa Perpetua's personality, it's that he is NOT fucking shy! This song confirmed it. Nothing shy about this man, he literally framed his dick with his hands when he sang the lyrics "I put my faith in you" (I may have misheard the exact lyric, but it's definitely 'I put my ---- in you'). He is horny. And he's a lil' arrogant with it, too... It's hot. He comes up from the stage on the right with a cowbell in his hands, seemingly confused that he's been given this and hands it over to Swiss who kicks off the beat. During the last chorus, he's running around the back of the stage from side to side, and I noticed very quickly that that... wasn't Papa. I turned to @angellayercake and said "That's not him... Look at his thighs!" And low and behold, the thighs, the arms, the chest, were all far to bulky to be Papa. Obviously it was the thighs that gave him away to me. I know them fucking thighs. You think I'm a horny smut writer and don't know what his thighs look like?! Nah. That wasn't him, but he was singing backstage while he was getting dressed in time for Year Zero...

Let's talk about the cassock. Black and purple, yes, stunning, but the motherfucking chrome skeletal detail on the back? WITH A TAIL!? Sweet Satan, that's a fucking cool outfit. I am ashamed to admit that I couldn't help the intrusive thought to shout "WAG YOUR TAIL, PAPA!" - luckily my brain stopped my mouth before I could. Anyway... Year Zero is far more powerful live than you can imagine, if you haven't already experienced it yourself. He walked like a robot again to get to centre stage when he came on, and it just works so well. The mechanical thing? It's very foreboding...

The stained glass in the backdrop shatters at the end of Year Zero, and turns into just a night sky. And then we get He Is... I knew this would feel special, and it truly does. It literally is a religious experience - I can't describe it. Now I know how Christians feel when they sing their hymns and can feel 'the light' or whatever they think it is, because I certainly felt something. Not Satan or any kind of deity as such, more a sense of belonging to a community that understands differences and preaches acceptance.

Rats goes hard. We all know this. I'm not sure what else I can really say about this, other than damn it goes hard. You can't not headbang to that outro, y'know? I must say though, that feels like such a Copia song it was a little odd to see Papa Perpetua singing it. Not that it took anything away from the performance at all, but I could just picture Copia sat in his office muttering to himself about how it's 'his song' and 'his rats' and 'fucking v should piss off and leave his babies alone'.

He does a little speech after this, and in London he asked us if we got what we want, to which we yelled a resounding yes. And then... Oh this bastard... "Good, I'll give you everything you want... as long as you just follow me..." SLUT. WHORE. The intrusive thoughts won and before I realised what I was doing I shouted "I WANT YOU!" which got a laugh from people around me, but not a clue if he heard that, because he was just smirking the whole damn time.

Then he asks us if we want a kiss. Well, duh... And this motherfucker smirks because he knows the damn answer. And Kiss The Go-Goat kicks off. Cracking song, had a boogie, lil' shake of the ass here and there. He no longer cradles Sodo's thigh during the 'daddy' lyrics but points at the fucking crowd like he knows we all collectively have daddy issues. Dickhead (affectionately).

Mummy Dust... Oh you feel that in your taint, you really do. In Birmingham, he did significantly more Mummy Thrusts (and right in our fucking direction too, may I add... I don't know how I'm still alive.) In Birmingham I think he saw that our side were giving him a little more in terms of interaction when he was thrusting, so he did a little more for us? But I can't be totally sure. We just got super lucky to be so close to the front left platform and got a face full of Papa pelvis. In London, I managed to get some Mummy Dust at the end of the show from the security team at the barrier, since we were just a little too central to be in the drop zone, but in Birmingham we were in the right spot to catch a bunch of it. If you're not super close, the canons probably won't reach you, but you can try your luck at the end of the show rooting around the floor or asking security at the barrier.

He did another little speech here which was different in London - he talked about how one of their first shows was in Camden (not him, of course; he made that clear by telling us it was his UNCLE, referring to Primo...), and how London almost feels like a home to Ghost which was very sweet. In both shows he said they had one more song, to which he was booed. I don't remember his response in London but in Birmingham he joked that we were a 'shit crowd' because of it.

I was NOT expecting to hear Monstrance Clock at all. I lost my shit a little in London when I heard it begin, but what a moment to hear thousands of people singing the "come together, together as one..." bridge with the lyrics on the screens with a font comprised of people fucking. Excellent. Very on brand. He's still a very flirty, horny little fucker on stage with this, fiddling with his jacket as if he's flashing the crowd etc.

The break here doesn't last too long, but I remember he said that people leaving here in London 'had the right idea', and we kept yelling we wanted more.

To kick off Mary on a Cross, he did mention this was a song his dad used to sing in Birmingham, but I don't think he did in London. As it's coming to an end, he turns to the back and catches a camera, and in Birmingham I was smacking @angellayercake's arm because he was smiling so damn wide, clear as day on the screens. He starts to do the call and response bit at the end at both shows, but after one "Mary on a...." he goes "ah, fuck that!" and kicks off Dance Macabre instead. That feels like a sibling rivalry moment, like he's shitting on Copia's 'thing' here and it made me laugh so hard.

Now, I mostly remember Dance Macabre from Birmingham and I'll tell you for why. During the second verse, he came over to the left platform right in front of us, and during the chorus I was jumping to the beat but the people in my immediate vicinity weren't, so I was pretty damn visible and probably stood out. He fucking locked eyes with me, and grinned, then proceeded to sing with me as I screamed "ONE LAST TIME IN THE ANCIENT RITE!" back at him. I will never, ever forget that. I thought I imagined it, until @her-satanic-wiles did indeed confirm it. Thank you, you angel. I almost thought I'd gone full delulu but nope, that actually happened.

And then, in Birmingham, we saw the unimaginable. He waltzes over to Swiss, practically kneels beneath him, then rises up to LOCK LIPS WITH HIM. This was not a peck. This lasted. None of us could really believe what we were seeing. Side note: I've heard people on Twitter trying to say that Swiss 'forced him' to (categorically incorrect), or that it simply didn't happen because 'well I didn't see it so it must be fake news'. Honey, I fucking saw everything. It happened. And we're still not over it.

Square Hammer slaps. The ghouls made their way over to Dew since they couldn't do the centre bit with Dew’s ankle being broken, but Papa comes out in a sparkly purple jacket that is just absolutely gorgeous. He's very mobile during the whole encore, trying to see as many people as he can before the show ends I'm sure. It's just such a fucking bop to end on, it feels perfect... The whole backdrop is turned into just the crowd being filmed, fans screaming into the live cameras which is such a beautiful addition especially after what they did with RHRN where they asked people to film themselves at the beginning in the screenings. It's very fan focused, and it feels like everyone there was being celebrated as part of something huge.

And just like in RHRN, he yelled "ONE MORE TIME UP THE POOP CHUTE!" in Birmingham. Iconic.

The final bow doesn't really change, but I remember we didn't get Dew in London (not sure about B'ham) as he'd broken his ankle and had to be helped off stage. He's now in a boot, but still continuing to play with some assistance from the other ghouls to use his effects pedals and move to his spots so he can be in the right place for choreography purposes.

So that concludes my ritual lowdown, really. I'm still absolutely reeling from it, can't stop listening to the setlist and now we're being spoiled with a Peacefields early drop today which makes me so incredibly happy. I had the most wonderful time with friends I've made through Ghost over the last few years and met several new friends too. Queueing was wonderful both days because of the people I was with, the rituals were magical and I'm so fucking lucky to be surrounded by some of the best the Ghost fandom has to offer. London was a much more emotional time for me, being my first ritual. In the car on the way to Birmingham that night, I sobbed to my friends about how much this meant to me, and most of the tears came that night. I had my little DATHOML breakdown in B'ham too, as I expected, but that night overall felt more like a celebration to me, another chance to really enjoy it without the fresh emotion of a first ritual.

I hope everyone gets to experience a ritual at some point. There is nothing like it. You truly feel like part of something so special, and whilst I'm so sad it's over, I'm still riding the high of the most amazing weekend. If you were part of it, thank you, and I love you.

Until the next tour... 😈

@her-satanic-wiles @angellayercake @dolceterzo @bonecloaks @callmemamaemeritus @onlyhereforghost @thew0man @the-goat-nurse-666 @delulluart (thank you for the gorgeous paintings, sketches and prints, I wish I'd been at your ritual with you. Next time!) @thew0man (next time we will fucking meet. Screw the O2's shitting management!!!!)

#skeletour #skeletour spoilers #ghost bc #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost #ghost the band #da rulah speaks #papa perpetua #papa v #tobias forge

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madamechrissy · 2 days ago

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Took you Like a Shot - part 4 preview!

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

chap 3 here!

Warnings- sfw though the story is not, reader just dragged out Kuna and Sugu by the ear bc she's a baddie- fluff and emotions - coming soon (by the weekend likely!)

“You’ll let her treat us this way!?” Sukuna pouts, Satoru just shrugs. “Whipped.”

“So whipped.” Suguru agrees, Satoru glares at them as you take the two men by their ears, like an angry little thing dragging huge men out like it’s nothing, it’s probably the funniest thing he’s seen.

“No smoking in the house, we’re having a baby soon. Do it at home.” You finally get the two friends shoved out of Satoru’s penthouse, locking the door as Satoru walks up to you now, one hand over yours against the door, the other wrapping to hold you, pressing your back against him.

“Damn, mommy, look at you beating up men over six foot.” You giggle then, you can’t help it, looking up at him and turning your head, seeing his clear, blue eyes.

“You’re not high?” You ask softly, he shakes his head then, pressing little kisses to your hairline.

“I promised them primo weed to help me with the baby stuff, but they decided to smoke up when I told them to wait. But they really did help set it up…”

“I still don’t feel bad.” He laughs again as you turn, lifting your chin up to look at him while he leans down cupping your face.

“I thought it was hot.”

“Did you now?”

“Mmhmm.” He exhales, kissing you softly, lips pressing against yours hungrily, your arms slip up his chest now, wrapping his neck. “Beat them up all the time.”

“You’re such a freak I swear.” He chuckles again, picking you up for a moment, hugging you as your legs dangle, and it feels far, far too good. “I missed you a bit.”

“It was two days?”

“Shut up.” He sighs, feeling your bump against him, when the baby kicks hard, and you wince. “She’s mad at you.”

“Is she now?” He eases you down, getting on a knee and slipping your top up, pressing a kiss on your belly button, your hand runs through his silky hair as you gulp down far too many emotions.

You’ve fallen so deeply.

You wonder if this has always been there, all these years it’s been lingering in the fucking air - the longing for him, physically of course, sometimes you longed to just beat Satoru at everything. Sometimes you longed to beat him. But you always wanted his presence, annoying or not, and now as he looks up on one knee, smiling at you so sweet, you can hardly speak.

“You okay? They piss you off that much?” He teases softly, holding you by your hips, kissing your tummy lower, you tremble from your emotions, your desire.

“No, it’s… I told you I missed you, okay?” You glare again, he chuckles, continuing his kisses.

“You’re such a tsundere.”

“A what now!?”

“All angry outside but you’re sweet inside.” He puts his hand on your tummy as you lean against the door, the soft lights casting shadows from his long lashes as he feels for her kick once more.

“I’m moody and miserable, I know. But I do feel good today, the nausea seems to have finally gone away.”

“Good, I bought so many hot cheetos.”

“Yay!” He feels it then, the little kick, and he smiles, he looks so fucking adorable then you’re two steps from saying it, heart pounding.

“I love you already.” He whispers to your tummy, as she kicks his hand again, and tears start falling, dripping down onto his head, which make him look up at you, immediately standing, cupping your face. “What’s wrong!? Is she hurting you?”

“No, no not at all I…” You’re a mess, fuck you’re always a mess lately, sniffling as the moment hits you.

“What is it? Hormones?” He’s cupping your face, swiping at your tears. “Does it still smell like weed - I’ll kill them I swear. I got all that pumpkin spice stuff for-”

You cut him off with another kiss, and he tastes the salt of your tears, standing there for a moment in confusion when you pull back, sighing now. “I think I’m in love with you.”

yeppp hehe another part coming very soon (maybe this wknd!)

perm tags- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff #jjk gojo #satoru x reader #story preview #jjk x reader #frat boy gojo #divider by cafekitsune

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bingbongsupremacy · 3 days ago

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The Soldier's Baby Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Plus Sized fem!reader

Series Warning: Y/N use, swearing, mentions of sexual assault (Not graphic just mentioned a few times) & the word rape (No one raped reader, there was just confusion on what happened), fatphobia, trauma, abuse, insecurities, guy being creepy.

Pt. 3 Summary: Things are slowly starting to develop between you and Bucky. Will you get to live happily ever after? Or is this crush all in your head?

After Captain America TWS, Not cannon to movies just some things from the movies mentioned.

*Not Proof Read*

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 AU Version (What if you told Bucky while you were both in HYDRA)

□□□□□□□

The golden light filters through the trees, warming the bench beneath you and Bucky as Daisy runs circles nearby, her laughter ringing like wind chimes through the gentle hush of the park. A park brake is definitely what she needed after being in a store for hours.

Bucky sits close—his arm draped across the back of the bench, not touching you, but close enough that his presence is like a pulse at your back. You can feel the tension in the space between you, warm and steady, but unspoken. Not uncomfortable. Just... present.

“She’s a good kid,” he murmurs, watching Daisy fondly, something wistful shadowing his expression.

You smile at your daughter, who is currently making her stuffed bunny "hop" across the grass. “She’s everything,” you whisper. “and so much more.”

He hums softly in agreement.

His voice is warm, but your heart skips at the softness in it—the way it feels like he sees you, really sees you. You glance over, and he’s already looking at you.

“She's just like Rebecca, it's scary.” he adds, quieter now.

You blink, turning to face him more fully. “Your sister, right?”

“Yeah. Brooklyn, 30s. She was the toughest out of all of us. Always called me out on my crap,” he says with a small chuckle. “I miss her.”

Your heart tightens at the weight in his voice. You don’t know everything about his past, but you know enough. And he’s starting to open that door now. You've heard bits and pieces. Rumors and stories. But only he can tell you the truth.

“What was it like?” you ask gently. “Growing up back then?”

He leans back, eyes focused somewhere far away. “Busy. Loud. People looked out for each other. You could hear the radio through every window. There were corner stores, stoops, neighborhood kids always out. It was home. A lot simpler in some ways. We didn’t have much money, but we made it work. I ran errands, fixed up bikes, helped out the neighbors. And Steve—well, he was always in trouble. Too many opinions and too few pounds to back 'em up.” He chuckles slightly.

“I used to think I had to look out for him,” he adds, eyes crinkling fondly. “But honestly, Steve didn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him. He just needed someone to drag him out of them after.”

You both smile, the memory settling into a companionable quiet. But the silence doesn’t last long. There’s a shift in his breathing, a heaviness to the pause that follows. You glance over at him. His eyes are distant again, but this time, there’s something harder behind them.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you give him that silence, letting him settle into the memory.

“I enlisted,” he says, voice lower. “Got sent out before Steve did. I was captured in enemy territory. Hydra got ahold of me.” His jaw clenches slightly. “Experimented on me. Brainwashed me. Made me their weapon.”

You go still, your hand curling in your lap. “Bucky...”

His eyes are distant. “Every time I’d start to remember who I was, they’d wipe it. Like scrubbing out a chalkboard. Over and over again.”

You don’t speak. You just reach out slowly and place your hand on top of his where it rests on his knee. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away.

“You’re not there anymore,” you say, your voice soft but certain. “They don’t get to define you.”

He looks at you then, like he’s been underwater and your voice just pulled him up. His eyes meet yours—stormy blue, filled with something aching and real—and it’s like something settles in him.

“I’ve been free for a while,” he murmurs. “But I didn’t feel it… not really… until recently.”

“Until Daisy?” you ask with a soft smile, memories of his love for the little girl flashing in your mind.

His lips tug up, but his gaze is still locked on yours. “Until you.”

Your breath stutters. His words hit you low in the belly, heat blooming behind your ribs.

Neither of you says anything for a beat. The tension pulls tight, a magnetic thread stretched between you.

Your heart is pounding. You’re aware of the way his thigh is brushing yours, the way his fingers curl slightly where yours still rest on top of his.

Bucky’s eyes drop to your mouth for just a second. When he looks back at you, there’s no hiding what’s in them.

Desire. Fear. Hope.

He leans in slightly. Just enough that you feel his breath, warm and shallow. His eyes flick between your lips and your eyes, gauging—waiting.

Your lips part instinctively, and your heart hammers so hard you’re sure he must hear it. The world fades. There’s only him. The way he smells. The soft flutter in your belly. The need you try not to admit.

His other hand presses tenderly against your cheek. His finger hooks under your chin, slightly pulling it towards him.

Then...

“Mommy!”

You both jolt slightly, the spell snapping but not quite shattering. Bucky drops his hand from your cheek. You immediately miss the warmth.

Daisy is bounding toward you, stuffed bunny under one arm, little legs stomping through the grass.

You lean back just a little, cheeks warming. Bucky’s eyes are still on you, his lips parted like he’s caught between a breath and a moment. But his gaze doesn’t fall. Doesn’t waver.

Instead, his hand brushes yours again—deliberate. His fingers squeeze, gently. And though he doesn’t speak, his eyes tell you everything.

Later, they promise.

Not yet.

But soon.

And when Daisy launches herself into your lap, giggling and asking if bunny can have dinner too, you laugh—but your heart is still thudding from everything you didn’t say.

And everything you know, you will.

-----

Daisy’s little fingers hold out a dandelion proudly. “Mama, look! It’s a the flower!”

You blink, exhaling shakily as you pull back slightly from Bucky. Your lips are still tingling from how close he was—how much you wanted that kiss.

“Wow,” you breathe, voice wobbling just a little as you smile down at her. “That’s a beautiful flower, baby.”

She climbs up onto the bench and wriggles into your side, her hair bouncing as she makes herself comfortable between you and Bucky. It breaks the moment—pulls your bodies apart—but not your connection. Bucky’s eyes don’t leave you, not even when Daisy leans against his arm.

There’s something in his gaze that is steady and full of tension.

You feel it.

The air between you is thick, charged. And even as Daisy starts talking about butterflies and cookies and the toys she got today, your heart is still thudding with what almost happened. Bucky listens to her—nods, smiles, hums along—but you can tell he’s not entirely hearing her either. His eyes flick to you again. Just a glance. Then another.

Your knees brush together. You don't move away. Neither does he.

When Daisy scrambles down a few minutes later to pick clovers at the edge of the path, Bucky finally exhales. You hear it. Feel it.

“That was close,” he murmurs, his voice dipping into something deeper.

Your head turns toward him, slowly. “Yeah. It was.”

Silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s full. Warm. And buzzing.

“I wanted to kiss you,” he says again, like he just needs to say it out loud. “I still do.”

You nod, barely breathing. “Me too.” This feels like a dream.

He looks down, his metal fingers lightly drumming against the bench. “I don’t wanna rush you. I know things are still… fragile. With everything. With you and Daisy. But I need you to know—this isn’t just a moment to me.”

Your throat is tight. “It’s not just a moment to me either.”

He reaches for your hand then—your left one—his metal fingers curling over your knuckles so gently it makes your eyes sting. It’s such a strange contrast: soft affection from something that was built for war. But it feels like him. Steady. Sure.

“She’s the most important thing in your world,” he says, nodding toward Daisy. “I know that. And I don’t ever want to come into your life unless I can make it better. Safer. Happier.”

“You already have,” you whisper.

Bucky lifts his eyes again, and they’re so full of warmth it knocks the air from your lungs. He leans in—slow again, careful—and this time, nothing stops him.

His lips brush yours softly.

It’s not rushed. Not hard or desperate. Just gentle. Steady. Like a promise with a hint of passion.

Your hand finds his shoulder as your eyes flutter closed. His other hand rises to your cheek, holding you like you’re something precious.

And you kiss him back.

When you finally pull away, his forehead rests against yours. You’re both smiling—quietly, shyly—but you’re still so close, you could kiss again if you wanted. And you do.

But this time, he doesn’t rush. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, and you breathe him in like he’s something sacred.

At your feet, Daisy hums to herself as she plucks wildflowers, completely unaware of how her world just shifted.

And maybe yours too.

---Later in the Future (All of these next parts are from the future)---

You wake up to tiny feet pattering across the floor and the sound of an excited voice squealing, “It’s my birthday!”

You barely have time to sit up before Daisy launches herself onto the bed, her hair wild from sleep and her grin practically taking up her whole face. She crawls into your lap, bouncing with barely contained energy, and you laugh as you wrap your arms around her.

“Happy birthday, peanut,” Bucky says from beside you, still sleep-rough, but smiling in that soft, melted way he always does when he looks at her.

The two of you moved to Bucky's room a few months after officially beginning dating, leaving Daisy your old room. She loved it, all the space and free range to decorate it however she wanted. Right now, that means lots of fairies and unicorns.

She throws her arms around him next, squishing her face into his chest. “I’m four now!” she declares proudly.

“Four?” Bucky pulls back like he’s shocked. “No way. You were three just yesterday.”

Daisy gasps. “That’s ‘cause I grew last night.”

“Ohhh,” he says seriously, nodding. “That explains it.”

The morning starts with pancakes — heart-shaped, a little messy, made with too much whipped cream and sprinkles because Daisy insisted. You sit at the kitchen counter, watching as Bucky flips the batter with one arm while balancing Daisy on his hip. She’s humming the happy birthday song to herself, completely off-key and adorable.

After breakfast, there are presents. Bucky lets Daisy rip open the colorful paper as dramatically as possible, and you swear you’ve never seen her eyes light up like they do when she sees the little red tricycle you picked out together.

She gasps and hugs Bucky first, then turns to hug you. “Best birthday ever!”

Later, you head outside to the shared yard behind the compound. Natasha and Sam show up, bringing extra balloons and snacks, and a little cake that looks suspiciously homemade. Steve swings by with a wrapped book that he claims is “age appropriate,” though it turns out to be about heroic raccoons saving a forest.

There’s laughter. Games. Daisy runs around with cake on her face, chasing bubbles with a group of kids from the compound. You catch Bucky watching her with that same soft look he always gets now — the one that says he still can’t believe this is his life. That she’s his daughter.

That you are his everything.

When the sun starts to dip low in the sky, painting the yard in golden hues, you’re sitting on a picnic blanket with Bucky. Daisy is curled up between the two of you, tired and sugar-crashed, but still glowing.

“She had a good day,” you say softly, brushing her curls from her face.

“She always has good days,” Bucky replies, just as quiet. “But today was special.”

Your hand finds his. It’s instinct now — familiar and easy, the way your lives have become stitched together.

He leans over and kisses your temple. “Thank you,” he murmurs. “For giving me this.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, watching as Daisy snores softly between you. “We gave it to each other.”

And as the stars begin to blink above you, your little girl safe in your arms, Bucky’s hand warm in yours, you realize this—this exact moment—is what forever looks like.

-----

The sun is beginning to set, casting long golden rays over the quiet garden tucked behind the little restaurant Bucky took you to. It’s the kind of light that makes everything feel softer — glowing petals, fireflies just starting to flicker, the warmth of early summer clinging to your skin like a memory you won’t want to let go of.

The evening’s been perfect so far — slow, full of laughter and familiar touches, the kind of rhythm only two people who know each other’s hearts inside and out can fall into.

Bucky’s hand has been in yours most of the night.

Things have changed a lot since the day you two met nearly 2 years ago. You've become a family. You trust Bucky. You feel safe. And Daisy's grown so much.

Bucky hasn’t been able to stop looking at you — not during dinner, not during dessert, and definitely not now, as the two of you walk together through the garden path just behind the little cottage-style bistro. You pause at a wooden archway wrapped in ivy and flowers, stopping to admire the way the lanterns hanging from the trees flicker gently like stars.

You turn to say something. Something soft, something grateful. That’s when you notice he’s not beside you anymore.

He’s a few steps back.

And he’s kneeling.

Your breath catches.

He looks up at you with that steady, quiet expression of his — full of emotion but never loud about it. His eyes shimmer a little in the golden light, and you can already feel tears forming in your own.

“Hey,” he says gently, like this is just another one of your conversations, even though your heart is pounding in your ears.

You can’t speak. You cover your mouth with your hand, just staring down at him.

“I’ve had this ring for a while,” he admits, his voice low and a little rough. “Kept waitin’ for the perfect time. But I realized…” He smiles, small and sure. “Every moment with you is perfect. So I figured now’s just as good as any.”

You laugh wetly, heart flipping over and over in your chest. You can't believe what's going on. You've dreamed of this. Life forever with Bucky, with your kid. Now it's going to happen.

He opens the little velvet box — inside is a ring that’s so clearly you. Elegant, simple, beautiful. Thoughtful. Like everything he’s ever done.

“I love you,” he says. “I’ve loved you every day, even before I knew what it meant to build a life again. You gave me a home when I didn’t think I deserved one. You gave me your trust. You gave me Daisy.”

Your heart crumbles at that.

He looks up at you like there’s no one else in the world. “And I wanna keep doing life with you. Every messy, wonderful second of it. So…” He takes a breath, his thumb brushing over the ring. “Will you marry me?”

You don’t hesitate.

“Yes,” you whisper, and then again, louder, your voice thick with emotion. “Yes. Yes, Bucky.”

He stands, slipping the ring onto your finger, his hands a little shaky with nerves and joy. And then his arms are around you and you’re laughing, crying, kissing him like you’ll never stop.

The applause from somewhere off to the side surprises you — you look over and see Daisy clapping wildly, standing beside the waiter who helped Bucky pull this off.

You giggle as Bucky kisses your forehead. “You had her in on it?”

He grins. “She helped me pick the ring.”

Of course she did.

You look down at your hand, at the way the ring catches the golden light — and at the man who put it there. The man who chose you, and never stopped choosing you.

And for the first time, your forever doesn’t feel scary.

It feels like home.

-----

The day starts soft.

Sunlight filters through the curtains in your shared bedroom, the golden kind that only shows up when everything feels right. There’s a breeze in the air, birdsong somewhere distant, and the smell of fresh coffee drifting in from the kitchen.

But none of that compares to the butterflies in your stomach.

Today, you’re marrying Bucky Barnes.

You’re marrying the man who held your daughter like she was a miracle the first time she called him daddy.

You’re marrying the man who sat beside you during sleepless nights and sweet mornings and all the quiet in between.

You're marrying the man who protected you.

You’re marrying your best friend.

The compound’s courtyard has been transformed — soft white lights strung across the trees, delicate flowers blooming in clusters. Sam and Steve helped put the chairs together. Natasha, impossibly smug, got her hands on the perfect champagne and managed the whole event like she was born to. She knew this was going to happen.

You’re tucked away in one of the side rooms, dress carefully laid out, makeup soft and understated. Daisy sits at your feet, giggling as she twirls in her own little white dress, clutching her basket of flower petals.

“Mama,” she whispers excitedly, “You look like a princess.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “And you, baby? You’re the most magical part of this day.”

When it’s time, you walk down the aisle with Daisy just ahead of you, petals fluttering behind her like fairy wings. Every eye is on you, but you only see one face.

Bucky stands at the end, heart in his eyes, wearing a dark suit that somehow makes him look even more breathtaking than usual. His hands are clasped in front of him, but you can tell — he’s nervous. Not about marrying you, no. Just... overwhelmed. Like he can’t believe this is real.

Like he can’t believe you’re real.

You take his hand when you reach him. It’s warm. Solid. The tremble in it mirrors your own.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you breathe, and he grins — boyish and bright, like he’s back in Brooklyn in 1942 and everything is possible again.

The vows are simple. Honest. Yours speak of healing, of trust, of building a future from pieces of the past. His speak of second chances and the family he never dreamed he’d have, but found in you and Daisy.

When the officiant says, You may kiss the bride, Bucky leans in slowly, reverently, like you’re something holy. His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your skin as his lips press against yours — soft and deep

Applause breaks out. Daisy throws the rest of her petals in the air and shouts, “Mommy and daddy are married!”

You both laugh, breaking the kiss, forehead resting against his. “We did it,” you whisper.

“We did,” Bucky replies. “God, I love you.”

And later, under fairy lights and soft music, with Daisy fast asleep in a little flower-strewn chair nearby, Bucky pulls you close for your first dance.

You’re wrapped in his arms. The world fades. It’s just the two of you. The girl who gave him hope, the man who gave you safety, and a future that stretches endlessly ahead — built on late-night stories, morning pancakes, and the kind of love that can weather anything.

You're his wife.

He's your husband.

You wouldn't change anything.

--------

It happens on a quiet morning.

The kind of quiet that only settles over the Avengers compound after a week of missions and long nights, when everyone is finally getting a moment to breathe. You’re in the bathroom with the door cracked open as Daisy hums from the living room, playing with her puzzles.

You’re not expecting anything. Not really. You and Bucky have been trying for a baby — quietly, gently, like you’ve done everything else in this relationship — but the months have passed, and with each negative test, you’d slowly lowered your expectations.

But this one… this one is different.

You stare at the test in your hand, heart racing so hard you can barely hear anything over the pounding in your ears. Two lines.

Two lines.

You blink, once, twice, gripping the edge of the bathroom sink. It feels surreal. Like your mind hasn’t caught up with your body yet. You sink onto the edge of the tub, the test still in your hand, and let out a quiet, shaky laugh.

You’re pregnant.

You press a hand over your mouth to stifle the sound, not wanting Daisy to hear yet. She’s still so small, still waking up each morning with bedhead and her favorite stuffed duck in tow — but she’s also the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And now… now, you’re going to have another child. A baby that you and Bucky made together. On purpose. With love.

It takes a few more minutes to gather yourself. You hide the test in your sweater sleeve, calling softly for Daisy and pulling her into your lap on the couch while you try to think of how to tell Bucky. He’s due back soon — he went on a short recon mission with Sam and Steve the night before. Should be home before lunch.

You spend the next hour pacing the living space, heart fluttering, fingers fiddling with a tiny onesie you'd secretly bought months ago. Just in case. It’s soft and simple, with little moons printed on the front — and it’s perfect.

You hear the hum of the quinjet before you see it. Daisy rushes to the window, squealing, “Daddy’s home!”

You can barely breathe.

He walks in wearing that worn navy long-sleeve shirt you love, his metal arm catching the light, hair pulled back loosely. As soon as he sees you, something softens in his expression.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says, stepping close and pressing a kiss to your temple. “Miss me?”

You nod, eyes wide, and then grab the onesie from where you’d tucked it behind a pillow. You hand it to him without a word, your hands shaking just a little.

Bucky frowns at first, confused, until he looks down and sees the little moons. Then his eyes dart to yours, searching, cautious — like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up unless you confirm it out loud.

You nod, barely whispering, “I took a test. It’s positive.”

He stares at you for a moment, completely still. And then he breathes out your name like it’s the only word he’s ever known. His eyes begin to shine.

“You’re serious?” he asks quietly.

You nod again, a little teary, a little stunned. “I… I didn’t think it would actually happen. I thought maybe it just wasn’t in the cards after everything… after everything we’ve been through. But—Bucky, we’re gonna have a baby.”

And that’s all it takes. He’s got his arms around you in a second, one hand in your hair, the other on the small of your back. His chest is warm, solid, and grounding. You melt into it, tears slipping out freely now. Happy tears, full of disbelief and joy and hope.

Bucky leans back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’re giving me another chance to be a dad,” he says softly, reverently. “You already gave me the best gift in the world with Daisy, and now this…”

Your heart thuds hard. “You’re the best dad. Daisy adores you. And this baby’s going to be so lucky.”

He cups your cheeks, brushing away a tear with his thumb. “They’ve already got the best mom.”

Later that night, once Daisy is tucked into bed and you’re curled up together on the couch, Bucky rests his head against your belly, even though you're not far along enough to show. He gently places his metal hand over your stomach, eyes closing as he speaks in the softest voice you’ve ever heard from him.

“Hey, little one,” he whispers. “It’s your dad. I know you’re still growing, but… we already love you so much. You’ve got a big sister who’s gonna teach you everything — like how to sneak cookies, and what blanket is the coziest, and how to draw superheroes that look like stick bugs.”

You giggle quietly, your fingers brushing through his hair.

“I’m not perfect,” he murmurs, “but I’m gonna try my best. I promise I’ll protect you. And your mama. Always.”

Tears slip down your cheeks again — how does he always know just what to say?

You rest your hand over his, soaking in the moment, the quiet, the warmth of this little family you’ve built together.

You never thought life would lead you here, to a home filled with love and second chances.

But now that you’re here, you can’t imagine anything better.

------

The months pass in a blur of belly rubs, baby kicks, and so many bowls of fruit that Bucky jokingly starts calling you his “peach.”

He’s attentive in a way that sometimes makes you want to cry — not from hormones, but from love.

When your back starts hurting in the second trimester, he figures out how to adjust the couch cushions just right to support you. When you start struggling to sleep, he stays up with you, even at 3 a.m., holding your hand and rubbing circles on your stomach until you both finally doze off. He never misses a doctor’s appointment, always holding your hand during ultrasounds like he’s watching a miracle unfold.

And he is. Because to him, this is a miracle — you are the miracle. He doesn’t say it every day, but he shows it. In the way he makes your tea just the way you like it, how he quietly learns all the ingredients in your prenatal vitamins, how he memorizes breathing techniques from the birthing classes and practices them with you without ever making a joke.

Daisy is glued to your side too — always talking to your belly, always saying “Hi, baby!” in her sweet little voice. She even draws pictures of what she thinks the baby will look like: usually a stick figure with wild hair and hearts for eyes.

But Bucky — he’s your constant. Your center. He kisses your stomach every night before bed, whispering little things to the baby about how much they’re loved. And when your feet swell, he gently massages them with his strong hands and a tenderness that makes you fall in love with him all over again.

Then the day comes.

It’s early, the sun barely rising over the horizon, when the contractions wake you. This time, there’s no panic. No fear. You wake Bucky with a soft nudge and a shaky whisper.

“It’s time.”

He’s on his feet immediately, but not frantic. Just ready. His voice is steady, his hands gentle as he helps you dress, grabs the hospital bag, and alerts the medical team on-site at the compound.

You kiss Daisy’s forehead while she sleeps, knowing Steve and Nat will take good care of her.

And then you’re off.

The hospital is bright and clean, nothing like the chaos of your last birth. This time, you have monitors, nurses, soft lighting. You have a bed, a room with a view, a team ready to help — and Bucky, right there, holding your hand through every single moment.

He never leaves your side. Not once. He coaches your breathing, rubs your back, kisses your temple when the contractions hit hard. At one point, when the pain sharpens, he cups your face and whispers, “You’re not alone this time. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

And you believe him.

Hours later, when your baby finally enters the world with a cry that makes your chest break open, Bucky is crying too. You’re both crying. Because it’s not just a baby — it’s a second chance. It’s proof that healing is real, that love can grow out of pain and become something beautiful.

The nurse gently places the baby on your chest, and you let out a sob as you cradle your child — small, warm, perfect.

Bucky is leaning over you, brushing your hair back with trembling fingers, his hand cupping the baby’s back like they’re the most fragile treasure he’s ever held.

You look up at him, eyes glassy, heart full.

“We did it,” you whisper.

He smiles through his tears and presses a kiss to your forehead. “You did it. You’re amazing.”

Later, when the baby is swaddled and sleeping, and the room is dim and quiet, Bucky leans over and kisses your lips softly. Then he presses another kiss to the top of your head.

“You should’ve had this the first time,” he murmurs. “Safe and peacefuk. You deserved it.”

You nod, your voice catching. “I have it now. With you.”

He sits beside you on the bed, one hand holding yours, the other resting on your newborn’s chest.

And in that quiet, sacred space-with your baby breathing softly, with love surrounding you, you know that this time, everything is exactly as it should be.

This time you're not scared your baby will be taken from you. You know Bucky would never let that happen.

Bucky's here, and he's never letting you go.

-----

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 AU Version (What if you told Bucky while you were both in HYDRA)

168 notes · View notes

mullermilkshake · 3 days ago

Text

I'll look after myself first

Part 2 <- Part 3 -> Part 4

Jinwoo agree's to take care of you, so just let him.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, porn with plot? mentions of preganancy/preganancy sex, Jinwoo definitely has a breeding kink, breast play, nipple licking, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, p in v sex, mentions of premature ejaculation, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, manipulation, mentions of swallowing/blowjob/facial

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

“Jin-Jinwoo, wait.”

There was no way you were thinking of backing out. There couldn’t be, Jinwoo handled you as delicately as possible when laying you down on the freshly made bed, you couldn't be backing out now.

“What’s wrong?” He said, practically on top of you already.

“Uh…” He couldn’t see your expression from the darkness of the purposely drawn curtains. “Well, I want to ask you something, before we…”

His cock throbbed in his pants, aching and twitching to escape, eagerly sitting to put forward its usefulness. Even so, he sucked in his breath and played with the hem of your shirt.

“Of course.”

“Well… why were you spying on me and Hae-In earlier today?”

Crap.

“You noticed me, huh?” Jinwoo played it off as something less creepy than how it left your lips. He just chuckled it away. “Your perception is higher than I thought… I wasn’t spying, I came around that way and Hae-In looked sad. I kinda panicked and disappeared in hopes you wouldn’t see when you looked over. But I guess you saw me anyway… but the reason I left the boardroom so close after you was because-”

He stopped himself and waited for you to take the bait. “Because what, Jinwoo?”

The weight on the bed shifted, his body still over yours and he could tell you were propped up onto your elbows to get a better look in the dark.

Should he tell you now? Tell you how his love for you grew from one pinnacle moment when before he never had much to do with you? Jinwoo could tell by the tone of your voice that if he came clean wholeheartedly, you would be sure to bolt. And it would take ages to claim you back and reel you in again without the association’s help.

If he came clean, you could make things difficult or try your hardest to pull from the programme all together. That would prove difficult, but the stress alone wouldn’t be adequate for getting you pregnant.

He had to get you pregnant.

“Well,” he didn’t remove his position from over you, but pulled away a fraction to make it look like he did. “I uh…. I’ve had feelings for you ever since we met and- well, I just- I mean, I wanted to reassure you that this was just sex… if you didn’t feel anything like that.”

You were speechless for what felt like an hour, but in reality, it was merely a few seconds. “You… you do? But- but what about Hae-In? She really likes you, like really likes you- if she found out that you…��

And then the news hit you, like Jinwoo’s lips did. Slowly, but with supportive tendencies to keep your confidence in check. “You- you feel that way about me?”

“I do, but I never said anything because I thought you and Jong-In were-”

“We're not together, we’re just good friends. I know he doesn’t feel that way about me. To be honest, I was happy for him because I think he has a thing for Hae-In. But she has the biggest crush on you. Oh my god this is so confusing-”

Jinwoo kissed you again, and this time he lingered his lips on yours as a sign of his own affection. “Don’t overthink it, we’re adults here. We can talk about that stuff later. But I promised that I’d look after you, right?”

“Fuck- this is so wrong.” Now you were breathlessly whispering to him. Did you want him to fuck you mercilessly for as long as you were conscious? That could be a tantalising end result.

“Maybe, but it’s just sex. No boundaries crossed.” Yet.

While it stung to hear that spill from his own lips any time he said it, the term ‘it’s just sex’ only settled you into a more textured depth of security he assumed you needed. Because eventually, it wouldn’t just be sex. Jinwoo worked so hard to level up, he could wait a little while longer before edging himself in hearing you say I love you back,

Though for now, he wanted to lap up the warmth of your breath tickling his lips, bite them and suck until your bottom lip turned purple, swollen and sore. To fondle and pinch your breasts and leave the most stunning love bites so broken on the surface, the blood vessels never calmed down.

Like marking you permanently.

But Jinwoo was a patient man, a calm being to wait out the storm for the fresh rain smell and wet grass under his feet before the main event of sitting out for the rainbow. The longer he waited, though despite his darker side never wanting to, Jinwoo could get a fantastic view of that pretty rainbow and ensure that one never faded.

Your chest rose and fell, you never said anything in the lingering pause. But, you pulled him in first before Jinwoo could get close to you himself. It set his senses alight when your fingers slid up the back of his neck and through his hair, tugging at it with little pinches.

You’d definitely done this before.

Jinwoo wrapped his arm around you, lifting you up a fraction just so your back arched and your legs spread wider for him. Fuck, he wanted to see you like this with the lights on, take note of the fucked out gaze you were going to have when he was through with you and keep it in his mind for eternity.

When Jinwoo’s hips pressed tight against yours, that little sensual gasp sent him over the edge, driving him to run his free hand up your shirt with his fingertips. Each touch, every inch, all spaces he’d never touched until now.

A space that Jong-In had never touched, and wouldn’t ever touch for as long as Jinwoo was alive. So soft, velvety and as supple as he fantasied over, tickling dainty drags over your rib cage and up to your bra.

His thoughtful caresses did not go unnoticed, not at all. Before Jinwoo could fiddle with your shirt or think of unclasping your bra, you slipped your shirt off yourself and tossed it on the floor before kissing him again, even slipping your tongue inside.

Maybe getting you on side would be easier than Jinwoo initially thought. Either that or you were getting far more into character than needed.

Either way, you were getting it tonight. And you were getting it good.

An example? When he ground his cock against you, you moaned, right into his mouth.

When Jinwoo removed his lips from yours to which you tried chasing back, he left them for your nipple, he exposed it with his long fingers so that your breast spilled out and made you writhe. He kneaded the plush of it, squeezing it in his fingers so that it bulged between them and ramped up the sensitivity. He flicked his tongue delicately over your nipple so that pussy he was grinding on had no choice but to gush before he even got a chance to slide a finger or two into.

After he ground against you again for another second, you bucked your hip as indecently as you could with your back arched the way it was. Your grip on his shoulders spurred him on to do more, to take your nipple right into his mouth and make a seal around his lips.

He could imagine your tits already swollen and full before this future hypothetical baby was even a possibility. Those hormones making you horny just for a quick fuck and tumble in the covers and that meant the many times you’d be on top, grinding yourself on Jinwoo’s cock and milk it for everything you possibly had.

The filthy thought of filling you up with his come made his cock weep, he took the forward thinking notion under the cover of darkness and undone the zipper of his pants. Gently so as to not startle you, but if his cock went any longer without attention and breathing room, he’d burst before he could shoot it inside you.

Unless it was in your mouth or face, Jinwoo wasn’t wasting a drop.

“J-Jinwoo…” You were so breathless.

“Mhm?” He never unlatched his mouth.

“I- I… give me more. Please. Please.”

Already begging for me? A good example of how he was going to train you.

With time, he’d programme you to only enjoy his cock.

His fingers, his huge loads.

His encouraging words.

And his tendency to push boundaries until you couldn’t stand anymore.

In the end, he would mold you to his expectations and nothing less.

And if anyone got in the way of that? Simple. They’d cease to exist anymore. Because this aura you gave to him was too intoxicating to kick the habit.

“You want more?” He said, leaving a wet from his lips over your skin that would have glistened beautifully had you allowed the moonlight in from the window.

“Yes.”

“If you need to stop, tell me.” Later down the line, that wasn’t an option, but he’d give you that stop valve for now.

All in the name of gaining trust, though when push came to shove and if Jinwoo had his way, you wouldn’t dare question his actions in the slightest when he was done with you.

His cock was already out, twitching in his free hand with a quick jerk while sitting up and back on his knees so he could paw and tug off your clothes and remove the barrier between you and him. When you were eventually pregnant, there was no need for underwear and pants like this. Jinwoo wanted you in those cute summer dresses that drove him insane, easy flowing and perfect for fucking you in, right over that kitchen counter for comfort and convenience.

No silly bras either.

If Jinwoo had it his way, what he obsessed over whilst testing the waters with his finger slipping inside your pussy, he’d ensure whenever you were in this apartment, you were full of his bodily fluids until they dripped out and trickled down your thighs.

One finger turned into two, then three. You took three of his thick fingers and whined, clenching your legs despite him keeping them open with his knees.

“Is that more you were thinking of? Or is this just a necessary step to that part?”

“I… I want more, I want you to fuck me, Jinwoo.” It must have been a long time since your last assisted orgasm that wasn’t ran on batteries if you were trembling like this and you hadn’t even come yet.

Though Jinwoo refused to think of who else you had slept with. He’d ask, but later down the line. But what did interest him was your quick turn around of doing the right thing for Hae-In, quite the change to his liking.

Guess he already had a hold on you.

“There’s that attitude I was looking for.” He chuckled and played with your clit by the pad of his calloused thumb. “I can definitely do that, are you ready for me?”

A little forward, but it slipped so easily from his lips and you responded so beautifully. “Yes. I’m ready- just fuck me already. Please.”

“Then stop holding back and come on my hand before I do that. It has to be really hard to hold it in.”

Your legs trembled beside him like your breaths had dramatically decreased in depth, like a shallow winded gasp. Jinwoo had eternity to figure out your body, yet you were an open book to him just like that. He knew you were close and by the way you grasped his wrist, the same wrist his fingers were attached to currently deep inside you, he could tell you were about to come.

“Come for me.”

“Fuck.”

You became rigid, legs shaking and convulsing by his knees with a held breath. Jinwoo waited for that breath to escape and continued to fuck you with his fingers, the only sound of the wet squelching from the gushing of your pussy all over him. And then you let that breath go, fuck he was so hard and he never waited for you to gather your thoughts before lining his cock up.

For all the time he touched himself and masturbated any chance he had after seeing you train or command a room with the likes of the other S-Ranks, he never thought he’d have you like this under him, at least not this soon.

He was never letting you go, not when your pulsing pussy sucked him in this good.

“Damn.” This next year, and all the others after this were truly going to be fantastic.

But at this rate, Jinwoo would come too quickly. Though in this state, would you really care? Probably not, but the man had a reputation to uphold. One that never involved premature ejaculation.

So he bit his lip and moved his hips, jerking closer than he realised when your legs wrapped around hip and yanked him towards you.

You absolutely filthy girl.

Maybe it wouldn’t matter if he came inside you right now, bucking his hips with no protection under the promise of knocking you up turned him on more than anything ever had. Then, he’d not only have your body, but that permanent ownership over you, a hidden agenda disguised as hard work for the association.

A baby. He’d fuck a baby into you and watch you become his for good.

His.

Jinwoo laid down as close as he could to you, nipping at your bottom lip and sucking it, masking his own groans under your helpless ones.

“J-Jinwoo- I’m close-”

“Me too-”

Just to give you something else on your plate to think about so that it didn’t add insult to injury of his quick and incoming orgasm, he held you again so that your back arched more than before, he ran his tongue up your neck and grazed his teeth over the skin. Jinwoo held onto the headboard and fucked you with everything he had.

Who cared if he came quickly, he was coming inside��you.

And when you were most vocal, coming around his cock, he quite graciously emptied his cock inside you, shooting his come where it belonged. Deep inside your pussy. He rode that orgasm out with every cell in his body until he was certain that there was nothing left in his balls to give you.

Though he never pulled out. The first load of many.

Now you had to follow the association's tips and lay there for a moment so that none of it leaked out. Jinwoo’s cock being the most useful tool in securing two pink lines on that pregnancy test.

He doubted it would take long to get you pregnant, but maybe a few more times to be sure.

Having the weight of the association’s future on his shoulders, Jinwoo gladly accepted the stress relief.

Part 2 <- Part 3 -> Part 4

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974,@snowy-violet,@sky2lar,@starrynights23x,@minh907,@yessirr7,@aussie-boys-wife,@yihona-san06,@mashiromochi,@daiyanomochi,@justatimidcreator,@alia-17,@otomegamesforlife@m00n-estelle,@towomatos,@stormnightingale,

DISCLAIMER - This will be crossposted from my AO3 next week - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhua. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

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whatifitis · 2 days ago

Text

♡ that's all i need to hear - LN 4 ♡

Summary: He lost you and it's his biggest regret in life. If given a second chance, can he win you back?

Author's Note: Hello! This is a happy ending for 'you're losing me' but it can also be read as a standalone. This is not proofread and feedback is always appreciated <3

WC: 2512

CW: angst, fluff, happy ending

Voicemail (1) From: Lando Norris

Hi, baby. I know I just texted you a bunch and ended up telling you to ignore it. But, I just- *deep inhale* I really do miss you. I was a right dick in treating you like shit and letting you go. Ehm… I’ll be honest, I dunno why exactly I called and texted. I mean, I want to talk to you *sniffle* so bad. And I- You’re the only one who really gets me. And I know that’s not- I don’t- fuck. I realize now that I fucked up a lot in our relationship. I know that I was awful and inconsiderate to you, especially when you were always there for me whenever I needed you.

I’m not sure if you’ll listen to this message. I get it if you ignore all these. I kinda want you to ignore these. You deserve so much more than what I gave you. And I want you to be happy and get everything you want in life. But I also selfishly wish that it’s me that you choose to be happy with. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it… I love you, Y/n. Never stopped.

-=+=-

*buzz buzz buzz*

You’re awoken by the buzzing and light that’s being emitted by your phone. You roll over in bed and groan, reaching to turn off your phone when the notifications catch your eye. 7 text messages and a missed phone call from Lando.

What is he doing calling you at 2 in the morning? You ask yourself, pressing play on the voicemail he left.

After listening to his message, you called him back immediately. He sounded drunk and while you still thought he was a prick, you still cared about him and wanted to make sure he was safe.

The phone didn’t even ring twice before Lando answered, “Hello? Y/n?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you?”

“I’m- I- I’m outside of a club or something… I think.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little, “You think?”

“Mate, I dunno. I’m in the middle of a random city in Prague and I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I’m quite drunk at the minute.”

“Nooo. You’re drunk? I genuinely couldn’t tell from your slurred words and hundreds of misspelled words in your texts.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Remember I’m also dyslexic.” Lando firmly stated.

“Sure… Are you alone?” concern lacing your voice.

“Yeah… I just needed to get out.”

“”I understand. But I think you should go back to your hotel now. Safely, preferably.”

“Yeah, I might. I just- FUCK. It’s so late for you. I’m so sorry for waking you. I don’t know what I was thinking, I honestly-”

“Lando, it’s okay. You didn’t wake me.” you try to convince him, not wanting to make him feel bad.

“Okay, well, I know that’s a lie. You used to hate when I kept you up late. I used to give you a celsius everytime I kept you up late so that you didn’t completely hate me… guess it didn’t really work in the long run.”

“...I don’t hate you, Lando.”

“Nah. You do.” he laughs, almost pitifully, “I honestly think you should absolutely hate my guts. I was really mean to you.”

“Can we not do this? Please.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just get home safe, yeah? Text me when you’re safe.”

“Yeah. I will. But uhm, Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

The line is silent for quite a while, you start to wonder if the line has dropped, “Lando?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just- I was wondering if, maybe, we could talk some time? I don’t expect us to like get back together or anything. As much as I would want that, I just really need to talk to you. Please.”

Now you’re the one who’s silent. Do you want to talk? Kind of? But what good could that do? What’s the harm in going? You’ve both had time to think since that night. You’ve both calmed down so maybe it is time to talk. Maybe it can be a learning experience for the both of you.

“Yeah. Um, do you know when you’ll be back home? Or I can fly out for a race or something. Just need to sort it out with work.”

“I can fly home tomorrow.”

“Lando, it’s the middle of the night for you and you’re drunk. You should get some rest tomorrow. We have plenty of time to get it all sorted.”

“No, I wanna see you. I can sleep on the plane. Just text me when and where and I’ll be there. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/n. Thank you.”

And just like that, Lando hung up. You didn’t even get a chance to say goodnight or anything. Just when you were about to throw your phone onto the other side of the bed, you got a notification from Lando: “I know I just hung up on you and didn’t let you say anything back but it’s cause I got scared and I didn’t want you to fight me on meeting tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

You let out a chuckle and sent your reply, “It’s okay. I get it. Just please try and get some rest before your flight and during your flight. Eat something and drink a ton of water as well. AND DON'T FORGET TO TEXT ME WHEN YOU’RE BACK AT YOUR HOTEL”

With no reply, you lay back down on your bed and try to relax. It’s been 6 months since the night you ended things with Lando. After a long internal battle, you began making peace with not having him around. You still missed him from time to time but it truly was destroying you knowing that he was constantly choosing something else over you. Knowing he was choosing not to talk to you. Part of you wants him back but you know it’s not that easy.

You aimlessly scrolled through your phone as you waited for Lando’s text saying he got back to his hotel safely. Since the breakup, less and less edits of Lando have landed on your feed, something you’ve been grateful for. But today, one of them showed up on your feed. It was an edit of you and Lando, Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers playing in the back.

No one knew, but this was one of the songs you used to play on repeat after the breakup. You were always repeating to yourself that breaking up was for the better. Lando wasn’t emotionally available and you couldn’t keep waiting and hoping that maybe one day he’d change.

Before you could think any further, your phone buzzed in your hand. Lando texted you, letting you know he was now in his hotel room and about to sleep. Turning off your phone and setting it to the side, you turn in bed and close your eyes. Your brain is spinning and making you question whether you should cancel on meeting Lando tomorrow, or maybe even asking for a raincheck. You weren’t sure if the two of you were mature enough to have this conversation yet. You went back and forth in your mind until sleep eventually overtook your thoughts and blanketed your running mind with silence.

-=+=-

For the first time in months, it was sunny outside. The typical grey clouds were nowhere to be seen, just golden rays of sun rained down on the people of London. You could feel the breeze blowing past you, getting caught in the skirt of your dress as you made your way to the park where you and Lando agreed to meet.

You thought you would be nervous, possibly fiddling with your hands or jewelry, rambling to yourself of what could happen or how things could go wrong. But you’re not. You feel quite peaceful, as if you’re simply going for a stroll in the park. You’re not sure why this is. Maybe you didn’t have any expectations or hopes for today. Maybe you unknowingly made peace with this whole situation with Lando a long time ago.

Before you knew it, you had made it to the park. You stood and scanned the area, keeping an eye out for a familiar, curly-haired man. And there he was, sitting on a bench, shaking his leg and checking his phone every 2 seconds. As you made your way to him, Lando spotted you and immediately stood from the bench, so quick that he almost threw his phone out of his hand.

“Hey.” Lando said, almost breathless.

“Hey.”

“Uh-” Lando sounds, motioning for you to have a seat on the bench next to him.

It’s quiet for a moment, not necessarily because neither of you know where to begin. But it’s as if the both of you are giving each other the space and time to ground yourself before unfolding this turn of events.

“I have no excuse for the things I did. Or the things I didn’t do.” Lando says, looking out towards the park that thrives in front of the both of you.

You turn to look at him, not saying anything, just listening as he takes a breath and continues, “I don’t want to waste your time. You deserve an apology and acknowledgement. I was not a good boyfriend to you. You gave me everything. You gave me your time. You gave me your love. You gave me your loyalty. You gave me your patience. And you got nothing out of that besides me discarding you. I am fortunate to know you enough to know that my actions had a big affect on you and how you perceive yourself. But you need to know you deserve so much more than that. That discard had nothing to do with you. Listen, I didn’t call you here today because I want to win you back and get back together. As much as I want that, I know it’s not fair to you and I want you to get everything you deserve in life. I’m sorry I couldn’t be the one to give you that. I’m sorry for hurting you. You trusted me, and I broke that. Instead of listening to you, I made you feel invisible. I got defensive when you needed comfort… I should have made you feel safe again. I should have sat with your tears and listened.”

This whole time, you sat unmoving. A neutral emotion painted your features as you listened to the man you once dreamed of marrying. And a little part of you still wishes for that. But he needs to know. He needs to know how much his absence and neglect really affected you, how it morphed all your thoughts into something that’s hard to undo.

“I noticed when you weren’t excited with my presence anymore.” he turns and looks at you, watches you as you share something that makes you vulnerable. Something he knows you hate doing, “I noticed when talking to me seemed like a chore for you. I noticed when you started making up excuses so you didn’t have to talk to me. I noticed when the compliments stopped. I noticed when the affection stopped. I noticed when you got distant. I noticed. I noticed and I stayed because I just wanted to know what it felt like to be loved by you for just a little longer. You meant more to me than I meant to you. And I guess that could partially be my fault-”

“No” Lando voice cracks, “None of it was your fault. I was awful to you and it had nothing to do with you. I was just- I just didn’t know how to handle everything. And I got scared. I got scared of my feelings for you and so I pushed you away. And in doing so, I hurt you. I will forever regret my decisions and I don’t expect forgiveness.” his nose grows red as his eyes brim with tears.

He’s on the brink of crying, and you’re just there. You don’t feel sad, you don’t feel happy either. You just feel… normal? You find yourself in the middle of a scale, balancing between endings. Either you walk away today alone, having closure. Or you walk away with the person in front of you who you still hope for a future with. Was it crazy for you to still want that after everything? Maybe. But what is life if you don’t take risks and learn?

“You know, it’s crazy, but there’s still a part of me that wants to keep loving you. A part of me still wants the future I’d planned for us.” you laugh.

Lando lets a tear fall and looks to the floor, “We could still have that. We could still try.”

“We could. But how can I be sure you won’t throw me off to the side again? How can I be sure that you won’t leave again?” This thought makes your heart sink, recalling how destroyed and empty you felt when everything fell apart.

Lando sits up straight and looks you in the eye, determination written in him “I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect. I’m gonna fuck up… a lot” he laughs, “I can’t promise constant rainbows and butterflies. I can’t promise that it’ll be easy. But what I can promise is that I will prove to you, everyday, that I love you and that you are everything to me. I will devote my time to showing you that you don’t have to be afraid of me leaving ever again. And if you ever feel unhappy or invisible in this relationship ever again, I want you to leave my ass, yeah? I don’t want you to suffer for a year again, or even a month. Put yourself first.”

You feel your nose begin to tingle, tears forming on your waterline. This was all you ever wanted from him. You wanted him to listen, to learn, and to remember you. You wanted him to truly love you.

“And what if I need time? To think and decide what I want?”

“Then you can have all the time in the world. And when you come to a decision, I will respect it. If you tell me to stay, I’ll stay. If you tell me to go… I’ll go.” His voice breaks again, lip trembling as he faces the facts and realizes this could be the last time he sees you, yet still holding a small glimpse of hope in his chest that you’ll choose him.

Raising one of your hands, you softly cup the side of his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb. You look him in the eyes, just looking. You could decide right now, what your fate is. You could decide to walk away and never turn back. You could decide to hug and kiss him right now, choosing to spend an eternity loving him, possibly. Or you could decide that you need space and time. He was giving you the chance to choose, so you did.

“Stay.”

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the-internets-girlfriend · 2 days ago

Text

Secrets in Doncaster: Part 3 - George Clarke

George Clarke x Y/N (1700+ words)

A soccer Saturday in Doncaster is spent laughing and drinking with friends... and the occasionally minion. However, can a secret go viral?

warnings: alcohol consumption, creating bets, swearing, a grumpy minion.

series | masterlist | previous part | next part

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A bright flash was directed toward us...

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The sudden flash slices through the dim pub lighting, stark and jarring. George instinctively shifts his body in front of mine, shielding me, even as we both blink rapidly to shake of the after image. I pull back away from George's body, squinting into the crowd.

A guy stands a few metres back, phone in hand, looking like a deer caught in headlights realising he has just been caught . I recognise him instantly - one of the friends of the guy we took a selfie with earlier. He's still frozen as his mouth moves into an 'O' shape; he begins to lower the phone and slowly steps towards us.

"Sorry," he calls out awkwardly. "I didn't mean - I was trying to get one before the kiss - but it looked really sweet. My bad." He apologies, his eyes adverting to the ground.

George steps forward a little, voice calm but firm. "Hey mate - could you delete that, yeah?"

The guy pauses, then nods quickly. "Yeah, yeah. Of course, I didn't mean to be a dick."

"Appreciate it," George says, giving a polite nod. There's no edge to his tone, but there's no room for argument ether. I watch as the guy fiddles to unlock his phone in his drunken state; showing us the screen as he deletes the image from both his gallery and recently deleted. George gives the guy a thumbs up, mentions one thing to him and turns back to me.

"You good?" He asks softly.

I give a nod as my only reply as I am so deep in thought - but I know he can see something behind my eyes. He always can.

"What are you thinking beautiful?"

"What if - if we just told our fans?" I suggest, worried for his answer.

George looks at me in amazement, "yes we can!." He exclaimed. "I've been waiting for you to be ready - I want to be able to kiss you in public, and even make all those couple videos."

I let out a small giggle at his last statement, "I think I am ready Georgie."

"Good but I want it to be us it reveal, not some drunk in a random pub." I nod in agreement before we hear the bartender behind us. We grab our drinks and I follow George through the crowd back to our table.

Once we had returned to the table, I notice the group has changed seats - and now there only sat two chairs next to each other. I took the seat next to Chris as George followed after me. He placed the tray of drinks at the centre of the table as everyone grabbed a shot. George leans back into his seat, a hand finding its way to my side as the group downs their shots.

"Is that the first bingo wing done? Bingo thing done sorry?" Arthur asks, but I just stare blanky at the man, still trying to register as to what had came out of his mouth.

"Sorry how do I order you to shut the fuck up?" Arthur Hill asks, as the group erupts in cheers.

The remainder of our time spent in wetherspoon is spent finishing our drinks, and Chris claiming himself to be a 'legend'.

We shuffle out of the pub - George running ahead saying nonsense to the camera.

The camera moves to focus on Arthur TV, Chris and I as we walked - arms all wrapped around each other to have the ability to walk straight... you could say we were the lightweights of the group.

Chris is mentioning how much he appreciates Arthur when I let out a drunk uproar, "NO! You're meant to be in love with the other Arthur!" Before anything else can be said, a warhammer store is pointed out to Arthur and he's running ahead of the group.

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Our next stop - Angel & Royal.

We all jet line to the bar, elbows flying, laughter rising. The energy shifts immediately. Music pounds through the speakers like it's synced to our pulse, and the sticky floor somehow feels sacred, like we've stepped onto a battlefield of bad decisions.

Without warning, the world's worst dance competition erupts. Becky and I stand centre of the group - because we were committed to out dance the boys. I throw in a moonwalk whilst Becky pretends to throw money at me - as if I was a stripper.

The rest of the group cheers us on as if we're on Britain's Got Absolutely No Talent. We clearly beat the boys. Pure chaos. Pure vibes.

"I just shit blood." George states abruptly upon his arrival, "Y/N please call our doctor." He gives a dramatic flare with leaning against me for support.

I snort. "No offence Georgie, but Dr Smith isn't going to pick up at this hour."

He gasps in mock betrayal, clutching me dramatically once again.

Chris, naturally, chooses this moment to appear with a tray full of danger - shots that smell like lighter fluid and regret. "LET'S GO!" He yells, practically glowing with mischief.

I take one sniff and instantly feel the bile rise. My face contorts in protest.

George catches the pulled face immediately. I nudge him gently and tilt my shot glass toward him, giving him my best wide-eyed please-don't-make-me-die look - full angel mode activated.

His response is smooth as ever. Without a single blink, he glances around the group to make sure no one's watching, then subtly tilts my shot into his glass, all in one fluid motion like a magician doing a trick for an audience who's too drunk to notice - and oh our group was definitely drunk.

"Sorted," he mutters under his breath, nudging my arm with a secret smile.

I mouth thank you and lean into my boyfriend; of who responds with an arm wrapping around me.

We depart the pub shortly after, George taking my hand as the streets began to seem more busy. We walk alongside the group heading towards the Silver Street.

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Silver Street was loud - the kind of loud that rattles in your chest and makes your shoes stick to the pavement. But somehow it got louder when our group arrived - Becky leading the charge, belting out whatever song was blasting from a nearby bar. George and I trailed behind, giggling as she twirled into a dramatic solo, arms stretched like she was headlining Glastonbury.

For a fleeting moment, it was bliss - just our voices, our laughter, the night wrapping around us like a warm buzz.

Then came the fans - the many fans.

It started with a few, but quickly snowballed. A cluster of people suddenly surged toward us, phone camera raised, excited voices calling names.

George's hand slipped from mine as he got swept into the crowd, fans tugging at him for photos, pressing close, shouting over each other. The other boys were drawn into the chaos too - Chris already mid-pose, Arthur TV and Isaac talking about this podcast to a group.

Becky and I stood just off to the side, Arthur Hill now back beside us, his expression a mix of amusement and confusion. "Yeah, maybe the scenic route down main street wasn't our brightest move." Becky said, elbowing me gently.

I nodded, but my eyes didn't leave George.

He was smiling for photos, laughing along with the fans, doing that polite, public facing version of himself - charming, patient, easygoing. But I saw the way his shoulders tensed slightly, the way he subtly tried to step back from the people pressing too close, hands gripping his arms longer than necessary.

One girl practically clung to him as he tried to move away.

My stomach twisted.

He finally made his way back over to us, cheeks flushed from the attention. I reached for his arm instinctively, lowering my voice, "you okay?"

He gave a small nod, then turned to the group, exhaling sharply. "A guy just came over and asked for a photo - and as I was leaving he went, go get yourself some fanny."

The group exploded into laughter, Becky cackling like she'd just been told the greatest joke in history.

George grinned, then turned to me with his hand raised. "Little does he know I am getting some. Up high?"

"Oh, shut up," I said, biting back my grin, swatting his hand away instead of high-fiving him. His smirk grew.

With the crowd still lingering and whispers trailing behind us, we collectively decided to get off the main drag and head toward the next pub. Somewhere less fan-dense, hopefully.

I walked a few steps ahead of Becky and George, throwing glances over my shoulder every time Becky cracked a joke loud enough to earn a bark of laughter. George looked relaxed again, at least for now.

That's when I noticed them - a group of girls trailing just behind. Trying to stay subtle but clearly following. Clearly watching George.

"You're like Harry Styles," Becky declared, tossing an arm dramatically around his shoulder. George gave a sheepish grin, that awkward, bashful one he does when he doesn't quite know how to take a compliment - or when he's too polite to roll his eyes.

Becky, never one to miss a moment, turned on her hell toward the tailing girls, and loud enough to echo across the street, shouted, "sorry girls, he's got a girlfriend."

My stomach flipped. I froze for a half-second.

George didn't say anything, But I caught the glance he shot me - a proud look. And he mouthed a I love you of which I returned.

The girls fell back, murmuring between themselves, and Becky looked satisfied as hell - giving me a wink.

George quickened his pace to catch up beside me, brushing his hand against mine again.

This time, he didn't let go.

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hi everyone! I'm back from visiting my parents so here is the next part I've promised and hope you guys love!! I'm loving showing their soft and caring side for each other - is so cute to write!

I also have a little surprised planned for tomorrow!!

See you soon,

mwah x

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taglist x

@wherethezoes-at @tomsparkyr @dopeysunflowers @cuntessaiii @magicalfurykoala @kisses-for-you @rreaperes @lazywonderlandfestival @swiftlyjo @tyna-19 @swizzlemynizzle

#george clarke #george clarke x reader #george clarke fics #soccer saturday #george clarkey #george clarke fanfic #sidemen #george clarkey x reader #british youtubers #uk youtubers #ukyt #secretsindoncaster

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1982grapejuiceblues · 2 days ago

Text

The Space Between

Official Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Stranger Lanes Part 5

Summary: The night after their grocery run, Harry and Y/N settle into a softer, slower rhythm—one that neither of them tries to define, but both of them feel. What begins as cozy banter over groceries stretches into something deeper as they fall asleep side-by-side and wake the next morning still wrapped in quiet closeness. As the house wakes and the group’s dynamics shift, the change between Harry and Y/N becomes noticeable—visible in the space they share, the glances they hold, and the ease with which they orbit one another. Through small moments and slow conversations, they begin to realize they’ve been noticing each other for far longer than they thought. And now? They don’t want to stop.

Warnings: Emotional intimacy and physical closeness, Subtle group tension / awkward dynamics with exes, Unspoken jealousy (not graphic), Long stretches of slow-burn tension and silence, Extended quiet/physical vulnerability between characters, Strong mutual awareness / noticing / emotional softness, Vibes: soft, domestic, loaded eye contact, blanket warmth, “we’re not saying it, but we’re saying it”

A/N: You guys. The amount of messages that I've received these past two weeks asking me to update Stranger Lanes is insane, I'm so glad you love it! Without further ado, here we go! As always, comment or reblog to be added to the taglist! Love ya! <3

Word Count: 9.8K

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By the time they got back to the lake house, her cheeks ached from smiling. Not the kind of smile you pull out for photos or to make small talk palatable—but the kind you forget you’re wearing, the kind that curls at the corners of your mouth because of something dumb someone said or the way someone looked at you across a narrow grocery aisle with too much toothpaste and too little judgment. Harry made her laugh. Not just polite, I-guess-that-was-funny laughter, but unfiltered, belly-deep laughter that left her leaning on the cart and pretending to scold him for making a scene when she was the one cackling in the cereal aisle.

It had been easy with him today. Maybe a little too easy. And now, as they unpacked bags of food in the warm yellow light of the kitchen, that same easy rhythm had followed them back like a soft hum beneath the surface.

He was beside her at the counter, sleeves rolled to the elbows, hair a little tousled from running his hands through it all evening. He kept brushing against her, not in any overt way—just enough that their elbows collided when they both reached for the same bag of granola, just enough that his knee nudged hers when he stepped around her to grab a mixing bowl that wasn’t even in use yet. She should’ve minded. She didn’t.

The others were scattered throughout the house, drifting in and out of the kitchen to grab a snack or comment on something they’d forgotten. Ali had passed through twice just to eye the Doritos with suspicion, and Ben had made a barely veiled comment about “coordinated grocery store showmances” that Claire tried—and failed—to smooth over with a joke that landed with all the subtlety of a brick. But Y/N didn’t really care. Not in the way she used to.

Because Harry was leaning over the counter with a bag of apples tucked against his chest, humming some obscure tune under his breath, tossing her a look every time she opened a cabinet and couldn’t find what she needed. And every time, she found herself holding his gaze a little longer than necessary.

It had become a silent game, this exchange of glances. One she didn’t remember agreeing to play but now found herself reluctant to stop. He’d glance at her with those stupid green eyes and that crooked half-smile like he was in on some secret she hadn’t figured out yet, and it made her chest tighten in a way that felt suspiciously like wanting.

She reached for the bread and he reached for the peanut butter, and for a second, their hands brushed, fingers curling back reflexively. She felt it like static—quick, sudden, warm.

Harry looked at her. Not away. At her.

Y/N swallowed, but didn’t step back. “You gonna hoard the snacks or share with the class?”

His mouth twitched, amused. “You calling this a class?”

“I’m calling it a democracy. And I think I deserve equal access to the pretzels, at the very least.”

Harry leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice lower now. “Didn’t realize I’d been elected to office.”

“You haven’t,” she said, lips quirking. “You’re a temporary appointment at best.”

“Wow. Brutal.”

“Democracy’s ruthless.”

He looked at her for a beat longer, and then passed her the pretzels without breaking eye contact. “Here then. Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

She tried not to smile. Failed. “I’ll file it for future reference.”

It was nothing. It was everything. The quiet exchange. The ease. The small flickers of humor folded into something warmer.

And it didn’t stop there. Every time she moved, he was there—not in a suffocating way, but in that rare, magnetic kind of proximity that made her feel like they were orbiting the same sun. That sun, lately, was shaped suspiciously like a grocery list and the way Harry grinned at her like he knew she was about to say something sarcastic before she’d even opened her mouth.

And worse—she’d come to like it.

More than like it.

The hum of the refrigerator filled the space between them, layered beneath the soft shuffle of feet on tile and the occasional thump of a grocery bag being set down. The rest of the house had grown quieter now—Claire and Ben had retreated to the back porch with a couple of drinks and the unearned air of smugness that still made Y/N’s stomach twist, while Ali, ever the perceptive guardian angel, had claimed she was going upstairs to “sort out the towel situation,” which Y/N knew was code for I see what’s happening here and I’m giving you space. Everyone else had followed suit, either drifting to their rooms or settling into the den, and for the first time that evening, the kitchen belonged to just the two of them.

Y/N stood barefoot near the sink, sleeves pushed up, organizing the pantry with something that vaguely resembled purpose. But her brain had long stopped caring about where the almond butter went. All she could think about was the way Harry had started humming again—some bluesy guitar riff that didn’t quite belong to a real song but had enough shape and rhythm to stay stuck in her head. It matched the tempo of the evening: a little loose, a little unexpected, but easy to fall into.

He was crouched near the fridge now, rearranging produce with more care than anyone who had just launched a pineapple into the cart an hour earlier had any right to possess. And when he stood and glanced over at her, catching her mid-stare, his brows lifted as if to say you good? with nothing but the arch of his face.

She nodded, too quickly. “I was just—thinking about how weird it is that you’re good at this.”

“Organizing groceries?”

“Being useful. Functional. I feel like I need to recalibrate my entire impression of you.”

He grinned, slow and smug, and leaned a hip against the counter like he’d just won a bet. “See, this is why it’s fun to keep expectations low. Then when I’m actually helpful, it’s a revelation.”

Y/N scoffed, tossing a box of pasta into the pantry without looking. “You act like that was some kind of elaborate strategy.”

“Who says it wasn’t?”

She narrowed her eyes, but the amusement curled in her chest before she could try to stifle it. He made her feel off balance, but not in a way that felt dangerous. It was… disarming. Like he’d quietly invited her into a different version of the week than she thought she’d be having, and she’d somehow agreed without realizing.

And maybe she wasn’t mad about it.

“Why are you so chipper tonight?” she asked finally, watching him move toward the paper towels like they hadn’t shared the same exhaustion earlier in the car. “You were grumpy all day yesterday. Fully brooding. Brood-y. Broodman.”

Harry barked out a laugh as he tore into the plastic. “Broodman?”

“It was that or The Grumble Knight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, Shakespeare. Let’s calm down.”

“You say that,” she said, leaning against the pantry doorway now, her shoulder brushing the frame. “But the Harry I drove here with would’ve had at least four sulky comebacks by now. And he wouldn’t have bought the marshmallows.”

“Those marshmallows were a peace offering,” he said, pointing at her with a dishtowel like it was a gavel. “I’m trying to be the bigger person.”

“Interesting choice of words coming from a man who tried to body-check me into the cereal aisle.”

“I guided you,” he said, nose crinkling as he tried not to laugh. “Gently.”

“With your hip. Like a hockey player.”

Harry grinned. “You stayed upright.”

“Barely.”

They paused again. A beat of stillness that felt a little too thick to be casual. Y/N’s eyes lingered on his face longer than they should’ve. She noticed the way his lashes caught the kitchen light, the faint trace of sun still warming his cheekbones, the softness of his mouth as he fought another smile. He was infuriating and charming and deeply annoying in the way people are when you’ve accidentally let them matter too much.

She wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

Then Harry broke the moment, eyes flicking toward the pantry. “You still gonna tell me where you want this stuff, or should I just start hiding peanut butter in weird places?”

“Try it,” she said, lifting an eyebrow. “I dare you.”

He smirked and stepped forward, closing the space between them just slightly—enough that she had to tilt her chin to keep her eyes on his.

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he said quietly, playfully, but there was something behind it now. Something that felt just a little heavier. Just a little more loaded.

Y/N’s breath caught for half a second. Then, just as quickly, she broke eye contact and turned back to the shelf. “You’re exhausting,” she muttered, trying not to smile.

“Don’t pretend you’re not thriving off the chaos,” he said, stepping away, but his tone was lighter again, teasing, like he’d sensed the shift and knew just how far to push it. “You practically instigated a three-minute argument over oat milk. You like the chaos.”

“Chaos,” she said, pulling a snack bag from the bottom of the tote and turning it in her hand, “is the only way to survive in a house this full.”

And maybe, she thought, setting it down, it’s also the only way to fall into something new without realizing you’re falling.

He watched her for a second longer than he should have—watched the way her fingers curled loosely around the edge of the counter, how she leaned her weight into her hip like she was trying not to lean into him instead. The overhead light wasn’t particularly flattering, too yellow and dim in the way lake houses always were, but it caught on her skin in places that made him stare anyway. The curve of her jaw, the side of her neck, the slight tilt of her mouth as she sorted through bags of trail mix like it mattered.

He told himself he was just tired. That was why his chest felt a little warm. That was why he kept noticing the little things.

But that wasn’t it. Not really.

The truth—uncomfortable, clear, and increasingly undeniable—was that something between them had shifted. Somewhere between the grocery aisle detour into cereal warfare and the way she’d leaned into him, laughing too hard to stand straight, something had cracked open. And now that it was out in the open, he didn’t know how to tuck it back in.

It had been easy to keep things distant before. She was smart and quick and had a mouth that didn’t quit, and he liked that about her—liked sparring with her, testing the edge of her wit. But earlier today, when she’d thrown her head back laughing about his passionate Wheaties speech, something had tightened in his chest. And when she hadn’t looked away afterward—had just stood there, watching him like she was seeing past something—he hadn’t wanted her to.

That was the problem now. He liked being seen. Not the easy kind of attention. Not the casual glances or forced conversations. But this—this quiet, offhand familiarity she offered. Like he didn’t have to perform around her. Like he could just be.

And now, with the kitchen emptied out and the hum of the fridge giving way to soft, companionable silence, that realization pressed heavier on his ribs.

“Okay,” Y/N said finally, reaching up to adjust a shelf like she had any intention of organizing anything. “We’ve got a suspicious amount of granola, and I’m blaming you.”

He walked to the other side of the counter, resting his forearms against the surface as he watched her. “I stand by my granola choices.”

“Of course you do. They’re chaos.”

“They’re curated.”

“They’re evidence of a man who doesn’t know what he wants.”

Harry tilted his head, amused. “That supposed to be some sort of deep metaphor?”

“Maybe.”

She didn’t turn to look at him, but he could see the way her lips twitched as she spoke. And something in his chest flipped.

He wanted to say something about it—about the way she noticed him, about the way she kept giving him these small openings and trusting he wouldn’t take too much. But he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Didn’t want to name it too early and watch it evaporate.

Instead, he opened a cabinet and started stacking cans, letting the moment breathe.

The quiet between them stretched again, long and comfortable, until Y/N broke it with a laugh that came out of nowhere.

He turned toward her. “What?”

She held up a small, crumpled receipt from one of the tote bags. “You bought a single kiwi.”

“I did,” he said, nodding solemnly. “It was calling to me.”

Y/N blinked at him. “You bought one kiwi.”

“Correct.”

“No other fruit. Just… the lone kiwi.”

“Don’t kiwi-shame me.”

She stared at him like she was trying to figure out if he was joking. “What were you going to do with it?”

Harry shrugged. “Bond with it. Maybe name it. Maybe slice it open dramatically at a key plot point later in the week.”

“You’re unwell.”

“I’m a man of simple needs.”

Her laugh was soft but full, her eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that made his chest tighten again. She tossed the receipt at him without thinking, and he caught it midair, tucking it into his pocket with a grin that felt too easy for how tightly wound he actually was.

He didn’t say what he was thinking—that the grocery trip hadn’t really been about the food. That maybe the whole thing had just been an excuse to be near her longer. That he’d kept finding reasons to slow their pace, to prolong the wandering, to hold onto the moment before they had to come back to the house and face the rest of the world again.

But she knew. He could see it in the way her eyes softened when she looked at him again. In the way she let herself stay near him even after the last of the groceries were put away, even after the last bit of banter had faded. They were standing in the kitchen like neither of them had anywhere else to be, and maybe they didn’t. Maybe they didn’t want to.

He looked down at her hands, then back up at her face. “We did good.”

“With the groceries?”

“With… all of it.”

Her breath hitched just slightly—barely perceptible—but she nodded. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “We did.”

When they finally stepped out of the kitchen, the house felt different. Not silent, but settled. The low murmur of the others had dulled to a comforting hum in the background—faint music from someone’s speaker upstairs, a door clicking shut, the rhythmic tick of the ceiling fan in the front room. The kind of quiet that only comes after a day has been lived fully and completely. And somehow, she and Harry had outlasted it.

Y/N moved toward the living room without saying anything, brushing her hand over the worn wood of the banister as she passed. She half-expected Harry to head upstairs, maybe say goodnight with that lopsided smile and a parting joke, but when she turned slightly, he was still following her. Quiet. Calm. As if it was obvious he’d go wherever she went.

The moment settled into her like warmth. Like gravity.

She tucked herself into the corner of the wide, overstuffed couch, legs folding beneath her, a throw blanket tossed absently over the armrest as if someone had abandoned it mid-afternoon. The lake outside the window was completely dark now, just a shimmer of moonlight off the glassy surface visible through the trees. She felt it—the shift. The almost sacred hush of a summer night when you’ve laughed too hard earlier in the day and your body remembers it in the best possible way.

Harry dropped down beside her a second later, but not too close. Not the way Ben or someone like him would’ve—overconfident, presumptive. He stayed a few inches away, elbows resting on his thighs, head tilted slightly back against the cushion. His voice, when he spoke, was quieter now, something lazy and loose threaded into it.

“You tired?”

She shook her head. “You?”

Harry hummed in response—noncommittal. But he didn’t move to get up.

The lamp in the corner buzzed slightly, its golden light catching on the curve of his jaw and casting his eyelashes in long, soft shadows. Y/N leaned her cheek against the back of the couch and just… looked at him. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so comfortable doing nothing with someone. Not just silence for the sake of it, but silence that felt like it meant something.

He glanced over a beat later and caught her watching. And instead of looking away, he held her gaze.

“What?” he asked, his mouth teetering up at the corners.

She shrugged, but her lips parted into the beginnings of a smile. “Just surprised you haven’t tried to start another cereal debate.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he said, shifting slightly toward her now. “I still think your take was objectively wrong.”

Y/N let her smile widen. “You’re just mad I had better arguments.”

“Better marketing. Not better arguments.”

“Marketing is half the battle.”

“You’re exhausting.”

She gave a light shrug, the fabric of the blanket shifting against her arm. “Takes one to know one.”

Harry snorted softly and leaned back again, but this time, his knee bumped against hers. He didn’t move it.

The contact was small—barely noticeable in a room this quiet. But to her, it felt like a light being switched on. A soft there you are. And when he didn’t shift away, when he let the contact stay, something inside her responded with a kind of stillness that surprised her. Like her body knew something her mind hadn’t caught up to yet.

They stayed like that for a while. Not speaking. Not needing to.

The window let in just enough breeze to lift the edge of the curtain, and Y/N found her gaze drifting to it as her mind wandered. There had been so many ways this trip could’ve gone. And yet, here they were—her and Harry, of all people. Existing in the same corner of the world in a way that felt almost deliberate. Like they’d been steered here by a hundred tiny decisions neither of them had realized they were making.

And she didn’t want to waste it.

“You always this quiet at night?” she asked eventually, not because she minded the silence, but because she wanted more of his voice in the room.

Harry tilted his head toward her, mouth ticking up slightly. “Only when I’m trying not to ruin it.”

“Ruin what?”

“This.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to. And she didn’t press.

Instead, she turned a little more toward him, their knees still touching now. She let her head rest back against the couch, mirroring his posture, letting the moment stretch.

She didn’t want it to end.

He didn’t remember the last time silence had felt this good.

Usually it meant something was missing—words that needed saying, a thought waiting to be cleaned up and made less jagged, or worse, something unsaid hanging sharp between him and someone who didn’t know how to fill the gaps. But this wasn’t that.

This silence felt earned.

She was sitting a little closer now—still curled up in her corner, but angled toward him. Their knees pressed side by side, just barely, but firmly enough that he knew it was deliberate. A shared warmth, a quiet we’re here. And the room held it. Carried it gently, like it understood this was something new, something precious that hadn’t been named yet.

He could hear her breathing. Not loud. Just steady. Present. And it somehow made the space around them feel smaller in the best way.

Harry didn’t want to ruin it. He didn’t want to break it with the wrong comment or a joke that would land sideways. But more than that, he didn’t want to pretend anymore—not after the grocery store, not after the car ride, not after the way she’d laughed today like he’d said the most brilliant thing she’d ever heard even though he’d been talking about cereal mascots.

There were so many things about her he’d started to collect without meaning to.

Like how she always tied her hoodie strings in a double knot and never fixed them once they slipped uneven. Or how she picked up boxes in the grocery store and read the ingredients—not because she cared about health, but because she liked knowing what was inside something. Like how her voice got softer—not quieter, just rounder—when she was trying to figure out how to say something honest. Or how she never leaned away when someone moved closer. Only in.

And then there were the things he didn’t know how to name. The way she felt in a room. Like she steadied it. Even when she was teasing him. Especially when she was teasing him.

That was the part that got him. The steadiness.

Her head tilted slightly, like she was half-lost in thought, and Harry felt the urge to say something rise up in his chest. Not anything big. Just something. To bridge the space between what they were doing and what they both knew they were doing.

But before he could, Y/N moved. Slowly. Almost imperceptibly. Her foot slipped down from beneath her and stretched just enough that her ankle bumped against his.

Harry didn’t move.

Y/N didn’t either.

She just stayed like that—close, still, barely touching but definitely touching. And when she looked over at him, when her eyes met his without pretense, it felt like something broke open again.

“Sorry,” she murmured, though her voice wasn’t apologetic. It was more like an invitation to respond. To meet her there.

He didn’t look away. “Don’t be.”

They sat like that for a moment—watching each other, but not trying to figure anything out. Just… noticing. Letting it be what it was.

She didn’t know what made her move. Not exactly.

Maybe it was the stillness. Or the way his breathing was calm but not quite even. Or the way she’d been watching the way his fingers curled around the throw pillow like he didn’t realize he was doing it, like he needed something to hold onto.

But it felt natural, the way her leg had shifted, the way her foot had bumped his. It hadn’t been a mistake. Not really. She could’ve moved it. She could’ve leaned back into her corner and made the moment small again. Dismissible.

But she didn’t.

Because the moment wasn’t small.

She looked at him then, and the expression on his face wasn’t something she had words for. Open. A little vulnerable. Like he was already where she was, but had been waiting for her to catch up.

And the way he said don’t be—soft, low, steady—made her feel something deep in her chest unfurl slowly and completely.

She hadn’t felt that in a long time. Not in a way that mattered.

Her voice, when it came again, was quieter than before. “You’re not what I expected.”

Harry tilted his head slightly. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

He smiled then, but it wasn’t cocky or teasing. It was the kind of smile that happened when something felt real. And the sight of it—unguarded, a little tired, completely honest—made something twist in her chest again.

She didn’t want to sleep. Didn’t want to break whatever this was, whatever they were building in the spaces between eye contact and half-laughed jokes. Because this was the part she always missed. This part—the quiet, unspoken build—was the part no one ever paid attention to.

She wanted to remember this.

The way his voice sounded when he wasn’t trying to be funny. The way his breath hitched a little when she looked too long. The way his knee pressed into hers like he didn’t want to let her drift too far away.

She wanted to stay.

She didn’t pull away.

That’s what he noticed first. That after she shifted, after her ankle nudged against his and she looked at him like he was worth seeing, she didn’t take it back. She just… stayed. Let it happen. Let them happen.

He hadn’t realized how much of himself had been waiting for that—for the proof that this thing wasn’t one-sided. That the rhythm they’d found today wasn’t just a fluke of timing or convenience or boredom. That she felt it, too. The tension. The pull. The comfort and the edge and the way she never gave him the easy version of herself, and how he didn’t want it even if she did.

She shifted slightly now, just enough that her shoulder brushed his arm, and the contact was light—barely anything—but it traveled straight to his chest like it had weight.

He let out a breath he hadn’t meant to hold.

He didn’t move away. He couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to. Something about her presence made everything else quieter. And not in a muted way. In a way that made more sense. Like his brain had finally stopped doing the thing where it ran in a hundred directions at once.

She made things quieter.

Clearer.

And now she was here, pressed just barely against him, and the house had fallen away. The whole house. The trip. The people upstairs. The water outside. Everything had dimmed. All of it.

Except her.

He turned toward her just enough to catch her profile. The shape of her mouth in the soft lamp glow. The crease between her brows that deepened when she was thinking about something she didn’t want to say out loud. The slope of her neck where it met her shoulder, loose and relaxed now, like she didn’t feel the need to tense around him.

He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t want to say anything stupid. He didn’t want to push it too far. But he also didn’t want to lose this—this sliver of time where she was here and real and his world had narrowed down to the warmth of her leaning toward him without hesitation.

So he shifted his arm. Slowly. Cautiously. Until his forearm was resting behind her on the back cushion of the couch. Not touching. Not yet. But close.

She looked over at him, just her eyes. They flicked toward his arm, then back to his face.

He didn’t smile.

She didn’t look away.

It felt like something might happen.

Not something dramatic. Not anything that needed music or speeches or the weight of big declarations. But something important. Something small and undeniable and impossible to forget.

She could feel the heat from his arm now, close behind her shoulders. Not touching. But there. Waiting.

She wanted to lean into it. Just a little. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did—if he’d shift away, if the spell would break, if it would feel like too much. But her body wanted to close the gap, and her heart hadn’t argued once all evening.

Harry had been different tonight. Lighter, yes. Playful. But also present. The kind of present you couldn’t fake. And she’d been watching it happen in real time—his gaze on her when she smiled, the way he passed her things wordlessly, the way he hadn’t walked ahead of her once at the store. He let her be beside him. He wanted her beside him.

And now they were here, in the dim quiet of a worn summer living room, and he hadn’t moved. Hadn’t drifted off or shut down or offered some sarcastic remark to undo the softness between them. He was staying.

She didn’t want to pretend anymore either.

So she shifted again. Small. Just a fraction of space. Enough that her back met the warm line of his arm, and she let it rest there—light and certain and brave.

He froze for a second. Not tense. Just still. As if he didn’t want to ruin the way her weight felt against him.

Then, slowly, he relaxed into it. Let his arm settle behind her like it had always belonged there.

And it was everything.

Her heart beat slower now. Heavier, but not with anxiety. With knowing. With the kind of awareness you only get when you’ve been dancing around something for long enough to understand that it isn’t going away.

This wasn’t about fixing anything anymore. Not about making up for what they’d lost or comparing where they were to where they’d been. It was just this. Him. Her. The night. The shift that had started in a grocery aisle and hadn’t stopped since.

He leaned his head toward hers slightly, not resting against her, but close enough to make her breath catch.

She didn’t say a word.

Neither did he.

But in the stillness between them, in the warmth of the contact and the way neither of them felt the need to explain it, something settled.

A beginning.

There was something about the way she settled into him that made the whole day snap into focus.

Like all the noise and heat and tension that had woven itself through the morning—the posturing, the clipped conversations, the weight of unspoken things—had finally broken apart, leaving behind only this: the quiet rhythm of her breath beside him, the solid warmth of her against his side, the soft brush of her shoulder pressing against his chest.

He could’ve sat there forever.

No one had ever leaned into him like that without pulling away eventually. No one had ever stayed close without needing it to be a moment or a joke or something performative. But this wasn’t that. This wasn’t a moment being made—this was a moment becoming.

And he didn’t want to miss it.

He let his arm settle fully around her now, his hand resting lightly against her upper arm, careful but certain. Like he was learning the shape of what this could be. And when she didn’t flinch, didn’t tease, didn’t shift away, something in him unclenched. Something deep and quiet and tightly wound that had been waiting for her to decide if she wanted this, too.

She did.

And that truth pulsed through him like steady heat.

It wasn’t the contact that undid her. It wasn’t the way his arm fit around her or the strength of his presence or the subtle curve of his body pressing into hers like he meant to stay. It was the ease. The way it felt natural. Uncomplicated. Like they had always ended days like this, quietly and without urgency, tucked into the same corner of the couch and the same fold of breath.

There was no pressure here. Just closeness. Just stillness.

And somehow, that made it all feel more real.

She wanted to say something. Just a small thing. A word or a whisper to acknowledge what this was without cracking it open too wide. But everything she thought of felt either too much or not enough.

So instead, she let her head tip slightly, just enough that it brushed the side of his shoulder. Not quite a lean. Not quite an ask. Just a shared quiet.

Harry didn’t speak. He just shifted, his fingers curling slightly where they rested against her arm. Like a promise. Like yes, I feel it too.

And it was enough.

The room had dimmed even more now, the lamp flickering once and holding steady, the only light against the coolness of the lake air drifting in through the window. Somewhere upstairs, a floorboard creaked, and someone murmured a goodnight. But the house was drifting into its own hush, and they were drifting with it.

Y/N blinked slowly, her body finally catching up with the weight of the day, her eyes heavy but her thoughts still alive and buzzing beneath the quiet.

He smelled like the outdoors and coffee and something faintly citrusy she couldn’t place. She could feel the rise and fall of his breath against her shoulder, the calm rhythm of someone who wasn’t pretending to be okay—someone who was okay, in this moment, with her.

And it was disarming. And lovely. And more than she’d let herself want, until now.

She didn’t want to sleep.

Not because she was afraid of what morning would bring. Not because she was waiting for him to ruin it. But because she didn’t want it to stop.

This stillness. This closeness. The way he hadn’t made it a big thing. The way he’d let it grow slowly, carefully, without needing it to become something right away.

It made her trust him more than she expected.

Maybe more than she should.

But she wasn’t scared.

She was… here.

And when she felt the weight of his head dip slightly, the gentle pressure of him leaning just a bit more into her, she let herself breathe into the moment like it belonged to her.

Because maybe it did.

The last thing she remembered before sleep took hold was the warmth of his hand, slow and steady where it rested on her arm, and the certainty—clear, quiet, and undeniable—that she wasn’t alone in this anymore.

Not even close.

She woke slowly.

Not because she’d slept particularly well—she’d only half remembered drifting off, barely aware of when her limbs gave in to the pull of rest—but because she was afraid that moving too fast would shatter whatever quiet magic had wrapped itself around them the night before.

The first thing she registered was the soft pressure of something warm around her waist. Not heavy. Not restrictive. Just there. Steady. Familiar in a way that felt startling.

Harry.

He was still beside her. His body relaxed, breathing slow and even. One arm draped loosely around her middle, the other resting across his own chest. And she was tucked into him, head against the curve of his shoulder, like they’d been fitted together by some gentle, invisible hand while they slept.

She didn’t panic. She didn’t tense. That was the most surprising part of all.

She just stayed there. Eyes open, barely breathing, letting herself feel the moment before she had to move through it.

The room was awash in morning light now—faint and golden, slipping in through the narrow window over the couch. Dust motes floated in the quiet beams, suspended in the air like they were trying to hold onto the hush as long as they could. And outside, she could hear the lake birds beginning their slow, lazy chorus. The world was waking up. But the cocoon they’d created hadn’t cracked yet.

Her fingers curled slightly in the fabric of the throw blanket draped over them. She didn’t remember pulling it up. Maybe he had. Maybe it had just fallen that way. It didn’t matter.

All she knew was that she hadn’t slept like that in a long time. Not just beside someone. But with someone.

Safe. Easy. Warm.

She knew it should scare her. That if she thought about it too long, if she let her mind get too far ahead of her heart, she’d ruin it with questions and panic and doubts. But right now, lying in the soft hush of the early morning, she didn’t want to move at all.

A shift.

His breathing changed—just slightly, just enough.

And then his fingers twitched against her waist.

She stilled, breath catching.

A pause. A stretch of silence so heavy she could hear her own pulse.

Then, quietly, his voice—rough from sleep, soft at the edges.

“You’re still here.”

She turned her head slightly against him, enough to feel the faint rumble of his voice in his chest. “So are you.”

A beat passed. She could feel his cheek shift as he smiled.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d sneak away.”

“I thought about it,” she murmured. “Didn’t want to risk waking the human furnace.”

Harry chuckled, low and warm. His breath stirred the hair near her temple. “I am unreasonably warm. That’s fair.”

She smiled, but didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The morning felt like something suspended—like time had been stretched out a little, just for them. And for once, she didn’t want to rush into the next thing. She didn’t want to ruin the slowness.

It took him a minute to remember where he was.

Not the house—that was easy. The lake, the trip, the chaos of the friend group turned semi-hostage situation, the way Claire and Ben had imploded them all into the same orbit. That was background noise by now.

It was this—the body curled against his, the warmth of her breathing soft and even, the way she hadn’t moved when he woke—that made his brain catch up slower.

Y/N.

Still here.

Still in his arms.

And somehow, not weird.

Not wrong.

It felt natural in the kind of way that made him worry about how natural it felt. Like his body had already adjusted. Like it knew what to do with her pressed into his side, with her breath brushing his chest, with the silence that sat comfortably between them like it was supposed to be there.

He hadn’t expected to fall asleep. Not really. He’d meant to stay there until she shifted, until it got too warm or someone came downstairs and ruined it. But the longer she’d stayed close, the more his body had given in. The stillness had soothed him in a way he couldn’t explain.

And now—morning light and all—she was still here.

No rush. No excuses.

Just warmth. Just her.

“I’m sorry if I was—” he started, not even sure how he meant to finish that sentence.

“You weren’t,” she said before he could. “I wasn’t, either.”

That startled him a little. The honesty of it. The way she didn’t even let him apologize for something he hadn’t said yet.

And he realized, again, that she saw him. The version of him he didn’t always let people near. The one who second-guessed when things felt too easy.

His voice came quieter. “This isn’t weird, is it?”

Y/N turned just enough to glance up at him, her chin brushing his chest. “It’s not.”

He exhaled slowly. “Okay.”

And somehow, it really was.

They eventually moved, but only because they had to.

Not in a dramatic sense—no one came barging in, no phone call interrupted the silence. It was just the sun creeping a little higher, the house shifting around them, the collective rhythm of morning making itself known in soft creaks and a far-off shower running upstairs.

Still, it took time. Several long minutes of neither of them saying anything, of her just breathing into the warmth of his chest and him keeping his arm where it had settled naturally around her waist. She felt his thumb move once, tracing the fabric of her shirt absentmindedly. Not possessive. Just present.

But the stillness couldn’t last forever, and eventually her body started to stir with the weight of the day ahead.

She shifted slightly. Just enough that their legs uncrossed, their limbs uncurled, their shared warmth gave way to the cooler space between them again.

And even though it was small—just a few inches of air—she felt the ache of it.

Harry sat up with her, rubbing the heel of his hand over his face, blinking against the light. His curls were flattened in one spot and sticking up in another. She could see the faint red line of the couch seam pressed into his cheek. And still, somehow, he looked stupidly good.

She pulled the blanket from her lap and folded it out of habit. Something to do with her hands. Something to keep the air moving before it thickened again.

“So,” she said quietly, glancing sideways at him. “How long until someone walks in and ruins this completely?”

Harry snorted, leaning back against the couch, arms draped across his knees. “Ten minutes. Tops.”

She smiled, but it faded quickly—softly—not because anything was wrong, but because everything felt right, and she didn’t want to lose that by trying too hard to hold onto it.

He must’ve sensed it, too, because he looked at her for a long beat. Then, quieter, steadier, he said, “You okay?”

Y/N nodded once. “You?”

His smile was small. “I am.”

And for a moment, that was enough.

The morning air was cool against the back of his neck when he finally pushed off the couch and stretched. He let out a quiet groan, partly for dramatic effect, mostly because his spine wasn’t built to spend the night curled up on a lakeside sectional with only half a cushion under him.

Y/N stood too, rolling her shoulders, pulling her hoodie tighter around her as she moved toward the kitchen without a word. He followed her out of habit now, like he didn’t know how not to. It didn’t feel weird. It didn’t feel too much.

It just felt like them.

Something had changed, and it wasn’t just the proximity. It was the ease. They were moving around each other differently now. Calmer. Not waiting for the next sharp word or cold glance or clumsy silence. They existed in each other’s spaces like the sharp corners had been sanded down. Like they’d forgotten, for a few hours, how to be suspicious of one another.

The house was still mostly asleep. The floor creaked beneath them as they padded into the kitchen, but the lights were off, and the world hadn’t quite woken up yet. Just the rustle of trees outside, the soft lap of water against the dock, and the distant clink of someone—Ali, probably—mumbling about coffee filters upstairs.

Harry watched as Y/N stood by the sink, her back to him, and reached for a mug from the drying rack. The one she’d used yesterday. A small floral one with a chip in the handle. She held it in both hands for a second, then set it gently on the counter like it was fragile.

Maybe they both were.

He crossed the space between them slowly, stopping beside her, leaning against the counter the way he had yesterday when they’d bickered over peanut butter.

Except now, she didn’t look tired of him.

Now, she looked softened by him.

“I was thinking,” he said, voice quiet in the hush between them, “we could go on another walk today.”

She didn’t look at him, but her shoulder tilted in his direction like she wanted to. “Another scenic route?”

“Something like that.”

She glanced up at him then, and the look in her eyes wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t guarded.

It was open.

And it hit him like a stone dropped into still water.

“I’d like that,” she said.

And just like that, the day began with a promise neither of them had to say out loud.

Ali was the first to see it.

Of course she was. She wasn’t loud about it. Didn’t say anything. But the second she walked into the kitchen and found them already there—quiet, close, in sync in a way they hadn’t been before—her expression shifted for just a second. Something soft. Something aware.

Then she moved toward the coffee pot and started fussing with the filters like she hadn’t seen anything at all.

Y/N caught the flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth anyway.

She kept her back mostly turned to Harry as she helped pull things from the fridge—fruit, eggs, the container of almond milk he’d made fun of yesterday. But it was different now. Every step she took near him came with the awareness that they’d slept beside each other. That they’d woken up warm and still touching, neither one in a rush to leave.

She could feel it in her fingertips. In her chest. In the way her voice softened when she asked him to hand her a fork.

She didn’t think she’d be able to hide it. Not really.

She wasn’t sure she wanted to.

More footsteps. Laughter upstairs. The house was waking now.

And then—Ben and Claire.

They entered together, too casual to be natural, both holding mugs that didn’t quite match their expressions. Ben had that look he always wore when he knew he was walking into a room with too much history in it. And Claire was smiling too tightly, her gaze flicking once between Y/N and Harry before landing somewhere pointedly else.

Y/N said nothing.

Harry, to his credit, didn’t even look at them. Just kept slicing a banana in long, careful strokes, setting the pieces gently into a bowl.

The air got thicker.

Ali cleared her throat. “I think we’ve got stuff for pancakes if someone wants to take lead on that.”

Ben made a vague noise, but Claire stepped toward the counter instead. “I can do it.”

“Let me help,” Ben offered.

“No, it’s fine.”

Y/N kept her head down. Kept cutting strawberries, even though they didn’t need more fruit. Kept breathing evenly.

Harry bumped his elbow against hers once. A light touch. Intentional.

She glanced at him, and he gave her the smallest, most devastatingly calm look—like I’ve got you. Keep going.

She did.

He didn’t like the way Ben looked at her.

He never had, even before everything. There was something smug about it. Something that suggested he still thought he had a claim. And even if Harry couldn’t quite name what he was to Y/N right now, he knew what Ben wasn’t.

Still, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Because she was next to him.

Because she hadn’t moved.

Because when he bumped her elbow, she looked at him like she wasn’t sorry for last night. Like she wasn’t planning to take it back.

And that was more than enough.

Ali talked more now, filling the space with questions about breakfast and day plans and whether anyone wanted to help bring the cooler out of the garage. Y/N slipped out of the kitchen for a moment to grab her water bottle, and Harry found himself alone at the counter with Claire.

He didn’t look up at her. He didn’t speak.

But she did.

“You two seemed… close this morning.”

He didn’t stop slicing the banana. “Is that a problem?”

Claire’s smile was light, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Not for me.”

“Good.”

She lingered like she wanted to say more. But then she turned away.

Harry didn’t watch her go.

He didn’t need to.

Because Y/N came back into the room a second later, and without thinking, she stepped back to his side like she’d never left it.

It wasn’t that they were doing anything obvious.

No hands held. No whispered confessions. No sudden announcement over breakfast that she’d fallen asleep in Harry’s arms and woken up still tucked there, blinking into the soft light of morning like something in her chest had clicked into place overnight.

But everything had changed.

Because now, every time he walked past her, he didn’t brush against her accidentally. He drifted closer. Purposefully. Every time she looked up from chopping something or setting out plates, his gaze was already on her. Steady. Soft. Knowing. And when they moved around each other in the kitchen, they didn’t speak much—but their silences were whole conversations.

And people noticed.

Not loudly, not directly. But the shift was unmistakable.

The group, for all their oblivious chaos, picked up on the undercurrent. Ali clocked it instantly, her glances flickering like checkmarks—okay, okay, I see you two. Jules didn’t say anything, but her mouth twitched more than once when they reached for the same bowl of granola or started laughing at something no one else had heard. Even Eli, half-asleep and nursing his coffee like it owed him money, gave them a lingering second look as he passed them on his way to the table.

The only ones who seemed actively uncomfortable were Ben and Claire.

Which was a little too on the nose.

Ben kept making comments that didn’t land—backhanded jokes about “overcorrecting” and “people getting cozy all of a sudden.” Claire kept stirring the pancake batter too hard. And Y/N kept not looking at either of them.

She didn’t need to.

Because Harry was beside her. Solid. Quiet. Constant.

And when she felt the pressure of his hand at the small of her back as he passed behind her with a stack of mugs, it grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected.

She exhaled slowly. Picked up the jar of jam. Set it on the table like her hands weren’t still buzzing.

He wasn’t trying to make a scene. He wasn’t trying to do anything, really.

Except not hide it.

Whatever “it” was. Whatever last night had become. Whatever he and Y/N were doing now—if they were doing anything at all.

Because the truth was, they hadn’t defined it. Hadn’t drawn a line or written the story down or decided what any of this meant. But what he knew—what he felt—was that she’d stayed. That she’d leaned in. That when she looked at him now, she didn’t do it with the skepticism from before. She did it like she knew him. Like she chose him.

So he didn’t perform. He didn’t overdo it.

But he also didn’t shrink.

When she turned to ask him if they had more butter, he didn’t answer right away—just looked at her. Long enough for her to notice. Long enough that her breath hitched.

She said nothing.

Neither did he.

But the space between them got quieter.

And that said everything.

The table was loud once they sat down, but Harry barely heard it.

People talked over each other. Laughed about something someone said last night. Ben kept trying to direct the conversation, his voice louder than necessary, his eyes flicking toward Y/N like he was waiting for her to jump in.

She didn’t.

She was sitting next to Harry.

Close. Not pressed up against him. But close enough that their knees brushed. Close enough that she leaned toward him when she reached for the strawberries instead of across the table. Close enough that it meant something.

Ali raised an eyebrow once—just once—when Y/N said something under her breath and Harry laughed before anyone else had a chance to catch the joke. But she didn’t say anything. She just smirked into her orange juice.

It felt like a secret. One the whole table was almost in on, even if no one had the guts to say it out loud.

And Harry didn’t mind.

He liked it.

He liked the quiet between them. The comfort of her beside him. The weight of her presence when she wasn’t trying to hold it back. The way she’d looked at him that morning like something had been decided.

And maybe it had.

The meal started to wind down. People stood up to rinse plates, talk about who wanted to swim, what time the hike might be. Ben made another joke—something about “partners in crime” and “getting too close for comfort”—but it fell flat.

Harry didn’t even look up.

Y/N didn’t respond.

Instead, she leaned slightly toward him as she stood, brushing her hand against his arm on her way to the sink.

She didn’t say anything.

But the touch lingered.

And his chest ached in the best way.

She found him on the back deck twenty minutes later.

The house had scattered. Claire and Jules were arguing over sunscreen, Eli was trying to convince someone to help him test out the paddleboards, and Ben—blessedly—had wandered off somewhere, maybe finally catching on that his presence wasn’t wanted. The kitchen was mostly clean, the dining table half-abandoned, and Ali had quietly told Y/N to “go take five minutes or forty” with a pointed look before disappearing toward the driveway.

She didn’t need to be told twice.

And she knew exactly where she was going.

Harry was sitting in the shaded corner of the deck, barefoot, his long legs stretched out in front of him, mug balanced on one knee. His sunglasses were pushed up into his curls, his shirt soft and wrinkled from sleep, and he looked unfairly at ease with the world. Like nothing could rattle him here.

Except maybe her.

Because the moment he saw her step through the sliding door, his entire posture shifted. Just slightly. Not a dramatic straighten, not anything performative. Just enough to say there you are.

And that was enough to make her chest ache.

She didn’t say anything. She just sat down beside him—close again, like they were already used to being close. Her thigh brushing his, her shoulder leaning in just enough to tilt her toward him.

The silence between them stretched, but not because there was nothing to say. Because everything was already being said.

Harry passed her the mug without a word.

She took it. Sipped. And handed it back.

The lake glittered in front of them, impossibly bright in the mid-morning sun. Kids shouted somewhere across the water. A bird wheeled lazily overhead. Everything felt suspended—like the world was moving forward, but this moment wasn’t. Like this was the kind of stillness people wrote about and never quite got right.

Her voice, when it came, was quiet. “Feels different now.”

He looked at her. “Yeah.”

She didn’t ask what he meant. She didn’t need to.

Because she already knew.

She was so close.

And it wasn’t just physical. It was her being here, her showing up, her choosing to be near him again when she could’ve so easily blended into the chaos of the group and let the night before blur into memory.

But she didn’t.

She was here, beside him, her presence tucked against his like she was built to fit there.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just sat with her, letting the breeze move through the trees above them, letting the scent of the lake wrap around them like summer itself was trying to keep the air quiet.

It didn’t feel like a conversation anymore.

It felt like a knowing.

And it made him braver.

“I think I notice more than I let on,” he said finally, his voice low.

Y/N glanced at him, curious. “What do you mean?”

He swallowed once, glancing down at the mug in his hand. “About you.”

Her breath caught. But she didn’t speak.

“I know you always skip the fourth question in card games. Even when no one’s paying attention. You tuck your thumb under your palm when you’re uncomfortable. You hum to yourself when you walk away from an argument.” He smiled softly, still not looking at her. “And you put the blueberries at the back of the fridge so no one else finishes them.”

She laughed quietly. “Okay, that one’s fair.”

He looked up at her now, the smile still tugging at his mouth. “I notice things.”

She held his gaze. “So do I.”

That surprised him a little. He blinked.

“I know you don’t like the first sip of coffee—always wait a second before drinking it. You reread instructions, even if you know what they say. You look away when you’re trying not to laugh.” She paused. “And you always stand behind people when you talk to them. Just far enough that no one thinks you’re trying to get too close.”

His throat tightened.

She shifted closer, eyes soft. “You don’t do that with me.”

And he didn’t. He hadn’t thought about it until now, but she was right.

He wanted to be near her.

He was near her.

And it didn’t feel like a risk.

It felt like finally.

They didn’t speak after that.

They didn’t need to.

Not every connection was made through conversation. Not every moment needed explanation or context or anything more than this—two people sitting just close enough that their shoulders touched, breathing the same air, watching the same water glitter beneath the sun.

Harry shifted slightly so their knees aligned again. Their legs pressed from hip to ankle now. Steady. Solid. Warm.

And she let herself lean.

Not because she was tired. Not because it was comfortable.

But because she wanted to.

She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The breeze lifted her hair gently, strands tickling her face. Harry reached over without hesitation, tucking one behind her ear.

His fingers lingered.

Her eyes met his.

And for a long, breathless moment, they didn’t move.

There was a question between them. Unspoken. Not ready to be asked, but undeniable in its presence.

And then he smiled.

Soft. Crooked. The kind that made her feel like the morning light had shifted just for her.

She smiled back.

And leaned her head against his shoulder.

She fit.

That’s what hit him most.

Not the heat of her beside him, or the way she leaned without asking, or the way her hair brushed his jaw as she settled into him.

It was how right it felt.

How easy.

How like he’d been carrying a weight he hadn’t noticed until it was gone.

He let his cheek rest gently against the top of her head. Just a little. Just enough to say I’m here.

And she didn’t flinch. Didn’t stiffen.

She just sighed, slow and full, and let her hand rest on his knee.

It was quiet like that for a long time.

Long enough that the world started to fade. The laughter from the dock became background noise. The creak of the screen door lost its edge. The wind and the trees and the water became a rhythm beneath them, something that moved with them instead of around them.

He didn’t want to move.

He didn’t want to speak.

He didn’t want to risk even one second of disrupting the way she was curled into him like she’d always known how.

So he didn’t.

He just stayed.

Eventually, she closed her eyes.

Not to sleep. Just to feel it better. To memorize the way the sun warmed her cheek, the way his arm wrapped lightly around her, the way her entire body exhaled when she let herself believe—for one slow, golden morning—that this didn’t have to be complicated.

That maybe, for the first time in a long time, she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Taglist: @this-is-tiny-mia @goldensunflowerssss-blog @notsosweetcreature @ohmygoldboots @pradastardust @hsbbyhunny @meganrose139 @reeadyreeady @harrys-flower-vol-6 @sunshinextemptress94 @somebunnybaby @justsimplybands @witch-rry @millsadoresyou@watermelon-medicine@pink-watermelon-cherry @babegoalsreads @namoreno @fairyjuicestyles @pologoonies @mp-269 @musicforastylesrestaurant @finelinereading @sigh-mon-reads @tonystaank @slut4phoebe @messyemmy @sasasstyle @officerslay @taliarosej00 @stylesftcher @stardustvalentyne @harry-winkes @cassofheartsss @xairaa @honeymoonluvv @loverrryxo @eggnoggs-world @drewrry @harryscherries28 @hannah9921 @harryscowgirl

Next Part (Coming Soon)

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles slow burn #harry styles fan fiction #teacher!harry #strangerlanes

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mysteryshoptls · 3 days ago

Text

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Room Relaxation Voice Lines

I can never sleep the night before my birthday, in eager anticipation of getting to meet a whole new me. How utterly troubling.

Summon: I am at my best condition. I am far more beautiful today than I was yesterday. Now, give me all your well wishes!

Groovification: Every single day I refine the first-rate product known as Vil Schoenheit even more.

Home: A good night's sleep is the key to beautiful skin.

Swap Looks: All right then, first I need to make sure my body is fully awake.

Home Transition 1: Silk garments can be difficult to take good care of, since they are weak to any sort of chafing. I truly appreciate the campus ghosts who wash them with great care each time.

Home Transition 2: I received a little video greeting from people I've worked with often. I absolutely will be sending them something back in thanks.

Home Transition 3: Sometimes I concoct my own cosmetics or herbal teas. They may not last as long, but their quality is comparable to anything on the shelves in stores.

Home Transition - Login: On the day before and the day of my birthday, I make sure to do an extra special skin care regimen. It's a little reward I give myself for all my constant hard work... See?

Home Transition - Groovy: Deuce seemed to be eating the party dishes with apt curiosity. It seems he's not very well versed with the concept of superfoods.

Home Tap 1: Ruggie handed me some herbs, and when I asked where he got them, he said he just "picked them from somewhere"... Yet somehow, these are actually high-quality ingredients.

Home Tap 2: I was speaking with Sebek on the methods of training inner muscles. I was rather surprised at how unexpectedly competent he was at explaining everything.

Home Tap 3: The rug I received from Kalim is the perfect size to place in front of my mirror. The vibrant colors gives my room a splendid atmosphere.

Home Tap 4: I should go through and replace the contents on my cosmetic storage shelves. Those close to their expiration dates should be disposed of, and the rest I can sort according to their uses... Heh, how fun.

Home Tap 5: This loungewear has the right balance of a gorgeous design and a chic color scheme. I truly love its elegance.

Home Tap - Groovy: You'd like to know the key to my beauty? Let me think... I wouldn't mind giving you a special little peek, but I wonder, would you actually be capable of pulling it off?

Duo: [VIL]: You're unexpectedly thoughtful, Deuce. [DEUCE]: I'm honored to be celebrating with you, Schoenheit-senpai!

Birthday Login Message: You... want to be my assistant because it's my birthday? Oh really, well, if you're offering, then perhaps I'll have you help with some of my club tasks. I'd like you to review our next script, specifically for typos and specific phrasing. If you notice anything else off, let Ortho know. ...Also, aren't you forgetting something? That's right, I'm speaking of a birthday greeting. Come now... How could you forget the most important thing, little spud?

Requested by @farfalla049.

#twisted wonderland #twst #vil schoenheit #deuce spade #twst vil #twst deuce #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: deuce #mention: ruggie #mention: kalim

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bloomseishiro · 11 hours ago

Text

IF THAT WAS CASUAL, THEN I’M AN IDIOT — NAGI SEISHIRO

౨ৎ — you’ve grown closer to nagi the past year. you spent time alone together, you made plans together, and you guys have even kissed! just one thing you forgot to do…define the relationship.

nagi seishiro x fem!reader. fluff, misunderstandings, nagi is taller than reader, college au (suspend ur disbelief and pretend nagi would go to college pls shdklakdc), ft. reo the accidental shit stirrer :3

word count. 1.0k

One of your favorite things about Nagi is the way he rests his chin on the top of your head as he lazily embraces your waist from behind.

He always wears the comfiest sweaters and you can’t help but lean back into his warmth.

“When’s your next class again?” you ask, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“In, uh, five minutes.”

“Why are you still here, then?” you exclaim. “You’re going to be late. Again! You should go now.”

Nagi groans, burying his face into the top of your head and murmuring a muffled, “Don’t wanna.”

It tempts you for a moment, you can’t lie. If you had the choice, you would stay wrapped in his arms like this for the rest of the day. Sadly, tuition isn’t free and missing a class is simply a waste of money!

“If you go, we can get dinner after my 4 p.m. seminar,” you bribe.

He perks up ever so slightly before begrudgingly gathering his belongings and crossing campus to get to his next lecture on time. Once he waves goodbye, you notice Reo walking over with his eyebrows raised.

“What?” you sniff.

“You guys need to start dating already,” he says with an eye roll. “This flirting and pining is getting to be unbearable.”

You blink. “Huh?”

Reo looks at you strangely. “What do you mean, ‘Huh’?”

“A-are Nagi and I not already dating?” you ask.

A snort escapes him as he shoots you an incredulous glance. “You tell me. Nagi’s never told me the two of you are together. You haven’t either. Unless you both decided to keep your best friend completely out of the loop, then it seems like you’re not.” Reo adjusts the strap of his backpack and tilts his head to the side. “Did Nagi ask you out?”

You shake your head.

“Did you ask him out?”

You shake your head faster this time.

Reo’s eerie silence prompts you for an explanation.

“Sure, we didn’t say anything, but we go on dates. I think… And we spend time together! Romantically!”

He shrugs, putting his hands up lazily. “Hey, as long as you’re happy, right?”

You nod weakly, but a newfound horror overtakes you.

Have you and Nagi really not been together this whole time?!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

It seems your bad and confused mood stuck with you thorough the entirety of your seminar and even into your dinner with Nagi.

You ordered one of your favorite noodles dishes, but even the familiar smell couldn’t entice you to eat. Feeling an intense stare burning through the top of your head, you look up from your bowl to see Nagi eyeing you questioningly.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” he notes, placing his chopsticks down. “What’s wrong?”

With a sigh, you wonder to yourself if he notices when Reo isn’t eating as well. You thought he treated you differently, but maybe Nagi is like this to all his friends and you are just feeding into your delusions.

“Y/N,” he says a little louder, a frown on his face. “Are you okay?”

Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod with wide eyes. “Yes, everything’s okay— I’m okay.”

His frown deepens. “I thought you knew better than to lie to me.”

You sigh, staring down at your food, downcast. “I do. Sorry.”

“Then?” he prompts.

Taking a deep breath, you manage to choke out, “Nagi, what are we?”

He blinks, as if taken aback by the question. “What do you mean?”

You gesture between the two of you. “This— Us! What is it exactly? I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure,” you say, giving him a helpless look.

Nagi rubs the back of his neck, gaze flickering away from you and towards his half-empty glass of water. “I thought it was obvious. Aren’t we dating?”

“We are?” you ask, blinking slowly.

“Yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I don’t do any of the things we do with Reo or Isagi.”

The nerves in your stomach settle down slightly once you realize Nagi views your relationship in the same way as you.

“I don’t do this with any of my friends, either,” you promise, looking at him with earnest, doe eyes. “I don’t kiss or cuddle or go on dates with any of them!”

“I’d hope not,” Nagi drawls, a slight expression of amusement playing on his face. “What brought this on so suddenly?”

“Reo,” you answer sheepishly. “Turns out, you never asked me out. And I never asked you out. I guess he brought it to my attention that’s usually how dating works…”

Nagi considers it for a moment before nodding in agreement. “I guess. I dunno. I never paid attention to that stuff before. Do you care about that?”

You hum, taking a sip of your water as you considered it. “Not really, at first. I knew whenever we spent time together alone, or kissed each other, it was special to us. We didn’t need to label it.”

“Yeah.”

“But,” you say hesitantly, “ever since Reo brought it up, I realized it would sort of be nice to tell people that yes, Nagi Seishiro is my boyfriend.”

The tips of Nagi’s ears color as he hears those words come out of your mouth.

“Yeah,” he says again, softly this time. “That sounds nice.”

You smile, a hopeful glint in your eyes. “Really?”

“I want you to call me your boyfriend,” he says firmly. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Hiding a giddy giggle behind your hands, you feel your heart begin to beat faster. “Yes, of course! I would love to officially be your girlfriend.”

Nagi smiles, gently grabbing hold of your hand from across the table. “Okay. That means you won’t question what we are anymore?”

You shake your head fervently. “Never!”

“Good.”

And as you continue your first date as an official couple, you make a mental note to thank Reo later for spurring this on.

#blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi x reader #seishiro nagi x reader #blue lock #bllk #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk fluff #bllk fanfic #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #nagi fluff #blue lock oneshots #bllk drabbles

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augustsblossom · 10 hours ago

Note

main mark grayson x full viltrumite fem reader, when reader is sent from viltrum after nolan failed to try and convince mark to join the viltrum empire but she ended up falling in love with him.

can you add some angst and fluff also a bit smut if ur comfortable pls.

thank you.

love this so much hope u like it !

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ main! Mark Grayson x fem viltrumite reader

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ a/n: forgive me if this is AWFUL I haven’t wrote fics in years so I’m still rusty and trying to find my groove again, this is also super short and rushed because again I’m just trying to get back into writing! If you liked this one I can def make a part 2 just lmk! Inbox me if you wanna see anything else <3 take care pookies mwah

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ WARNINGS: angst (not that good lol), swearing, annnddd that should be it

˚ ༘ *ೃ⁀➷ ALSO: please forgive me if I get anything wrong in this! I haven’t completely finished Invincible so I may have gotten some things messed up plus I’m not too good with keeping up with lore and information so pls correct me if needed! And this isn’t proof read but act like it is

————————————————————————

Nolan betraying Viltrium was the worst news the planet could receive. He was one of their strongest soldiers, but not strong enough to conquer earth? It didn’t make sense to the viltrumites.

They genuinely believe they were done for, so after finding out Nolan betrayed them they sent you. To be fair, Nolan TRIED, and when I say try I mean convince his son Mark to join the viltrum empire to continue taking over planets and growing stronger. So, being here now your job was to go to Earth and bring back Mark, Invincible.

You absolutely hated Earth like no doubt, and rightfully so because they are such a weak planet, so you were hoping it was gonna be light work to obtain mark and go home.

well.

Never say never right !

The plan was simple, disguise yourself and build a relationship with Mark Grayson to then basically sweet talk him into joining your empire. Super easy right?

Absolutely not.

Mark was a sweet talker himself. You met him in class when you asked a question about one of the assignments, and he was a sweetheart about it.

After completing the assignment you guys talked more, and got to the point where you were being invited to his home. Debbie oh so adored you. You were kind, gorgeous and respectful so of course you get brownie points from his mom!

The mission got complicated when his sweet talking was working a bit too well. Being a viltrumite, you weren’t entirely used to human emotion. Someone caring about you the way Mark did felt so foreign, you felt wrong for thinking about it the way you did.

Your friendship grew even stronger, you two were inseparable. Everything you did was together and for each other

You knew you were deep in shit when you’d catch yourself staring at Mark. While he was focused in class or explains Seance Dog for the 10 millionth time, you adored him. And oh were you so wrong about this being an easy mission

You knew you had to end it and tell him the truth before it got farther. It hurt you hurting him.

You practiced it over and over, telling him he should come with you back home, be apart of the viltrium empire and be together once and for all.

After a day of hanging out you guys finally got back to his place. You greeted Debbie as usual, knowing it most likely will be your last time. You absolutely hated the fact you even got yourself in this situation. You were supposed to simply get him to Viltrium and now you’re day dreaming about him being your boyfriend? Cmon girl.

You walked in behind Mark and shut his door, locking it and taking a deep breath before turning to look at him. He sat comfortably on the bed as he was already looking at you, sensing you were upset.

“You know… you’ve been really weird lately” Mark started.

“I mean, if there’s anything wrong or if I did anything I wanna know.”

You took another deep breath, preparing for the worst statement you can ever say.

“I’m a Viltriumite Mark.”

The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. The only noise was the neighborhood kids playing outside and Debbie watching tv. Mark was as still as ever almost like he wasn’t breathing, he kept quiet

“I know you’re invincible. I know your father is Omni-Man. I know all of it.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat before going again

“Your father betrayed us Mark. We need you at Viltrium. Be with me at home where we can be this happy but better, we’ll have everything”

You were almost pleading with him. Scratch that, you were pleading with him.

Your eyes widened as you saw tears building in Marks eyes. He’s never cried in front of you, like ever.

“…This is why you came here? So you can get me for my dads fuck up? You used me and made me believe you were a normal friend I could have just so you can get me to join your damn empire?”

Marks voice raised with so much pain behind it, you never believed you would feel “bad” for a human but look at you now.

“No, mark you don’t understand”

He cut you off abruptly

“No YOU dont understand! Do you know how much I’ve cared about you helped you loved you? God you made me get feeling for a fucking spy”

And look at the monster you created for yourself. You truly only had one job, yet you made an innocent superhero fall in love with you for your own dirty work and fucked it all up. I guess you can say you finally understand why Nolan did what he did.

#invincible #mark grayson smut #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible smut

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cassiemaebarnes · 19 hours ago

Text

Grumpy & the New Girl: Part 8

Bucky x reader

Summary: She wasn’t supposed to meet him like that. He wasn’t supposed to let her in. But sometimes, things don’t go according to plan.

Word Count: 5903

Sorry for the wait!! I got busy this week with exams and work😭 but I made this chapter a little longer to hopefully make up for it! I'll try to get the next part out a little quicker😊

While the others made their way to the meeting, you crutched over to the couch and sat down, not bothering to elevate your ankle. It was feeling a lot better, and although there was still some bruising, it wasn’t very swollen anymore.

You scrolled through your phone for about an hour before you heard the elevator ding and the voices of the others cut through the silence. When you looked up, once again, Bucky was the first one into the common room, coming over and immediately taking a seat beside you. His arm went to the back of the couch and his hand found your shoulder like it was all second nature.

“Hey doll,” he said, smirking at you.

You just gave him a look, but you couldn’t stop the smile from coming onto your face as you let out a little laugh.

Before you could get a word in, the rest of the team started filing into the room one by one, voices echoing and conversations overlapping, but every single one of them seemed to slow their step the second they saw you and Bucky.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned dramatically, dropping into the armchair across from you. “The way you two look at each other makes me sick.”

Tony, trailing behind, sipped from his coffee and raised an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself. It’s kinda cute, actually. Like a dating site commercial. So in love, it’s nauseating.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but didn’t move his hand.

Nat leaned over the side of the couch, glancing between the two of you. “Honestly, I think it’s sweet. Gross, but sweet.”

You groaned into your hands. “I can’t even sit on a couch anymore?”

“You can,” Clint said from the kitchen, “but do it like a normal person, not like you’re starring in The Notebook: Avengers Edition.”

You shot Bucky a sideways glance, and he looked far too pleased with himself.

Steve finally walked in, glanced around at the chaos, and sighed. “Alright, enough. We’re not doing this again.”

“You say that every day,” Sam muttered.

Steve ignored him and turned to you. “I actually wanted to talk to you for a sec. You’re cleared to start physical therapy tomorrow.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“It’ll be light,” Steve added, nodding toward your ankle. “But yeah. That means you should try putting a little weight on it today, see how it feels. Get used to it again.”

You glanced down at your ankle, then at your crutches resting beside the couch. “Okay…I can try.”

“I’ll help you,” Bucky added immediately.

A beat of silence passed before the others cut in.

Sam clutched his chest. “Oh my god, he's her emotional support soldier.”

Tony looked like he was about to cry. “They grow up so fast.”

Steve just shook his head, like he regretted every decision that brought this team together.

For the next hour, you were all lounging in the common room while conversations bounced lazily around the space. You’d been sipping water for the last hour, and now…nature was calling.

You sighed and pushed the blanket off your lap, slowly swinging your legs over the edge of the couch.

Immediately, Bucky sat up straighter.

“Where are you going?” he asked, already getting to his feet like he had a sixth sense for when you were about to move.

You gave him a look, amused. “Bathroom.”

He nodded without hesitation. “Okay. I’ll help you.”

You barely had time to react before the others caught on.

Sam practically fell off the chair. “Help her?” he cackled. “What are you gonna do, hold her hand while she pees?”

Nat nearly choked on her drink. “Oh my god, Bucky. Boundaries, man.”

Clint leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grinning. “Is this a two-person operation now? You gonna give her a pep talk from the doorway?”

Tony didn’t even look up from his tablet. “Let’s just be clear: if you’re gone more than 5 minutes, we’re shutting this whole thing down.”

You were laughing so hard you had to grab the arm of the couch to steady yourself, shaking your head. “I can pee on my own, guys. I just need help walking.”

“I’m just saying,” Sam added, “you two get more domestic every day. I’m waiting for him to start pre-heating the toilet seat for you.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” you wheezed.

Bucky just shook his head and offered you his hand. “C’mon, before they start planning our retirement.”

You took his hand and stood up slowly, still chuckling. “You’re not even denying it anymore.”

“I learned my lesson,” he said dryly. “Denial just gives them more material.”

As you hobbled your way toward the hall with Bucky at your side, you heard Tony call after you, “Remember to leave the door cracked, lovebirds. We need updates!”

You flipped him off behind your back without even turning around.

And as the two of you disappeared down the hall, the laughter behind you only got louder.

When you and Bucky returned to the common room, you walked in like it was no big deal – you leaning on his arm, walking a little better now but still wincing every few steps. He was quiet and calm beside you, his hand hovering near your waist like he was ready to catch you again if you so much as wobbled.

Naturally, the second you crossed into the room, you were met with more teasing.

Sam sat up straighter on the couch, eyes already glinting. “Well, well, well. Took you long enough.”

Nat smirked from where she was perched on the arm of the loveseat. “Everything come out okay?”

You stopped walking and gave them a flat look. “Really? That’s where we’re going with this?”

Clint let out a low whistle. “You sure you didn’t sprain more than your ankle in there?”

Tony looked up from his tablet. “I’m just saying, you could’ve walked on your ankle with your crutches for assistance instead of Bucky.”

You groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “We were gone for two minutes.”

Bucky sat beside you calmly, completely composed.

Then–

“Well,” he said, voice casual, “I did help her with a few things.”

You froze.

So did everyone else.

“…Excuse me?” you said, blinking at him.

He turned to you with a fake-innocent expression. “What? You needed help standing… balancing…”

You narrowed your eyes. “Bucky.”

He smirked, slow and dangerous, the kind of smirk that meant he knew exactly what he was doing. “I mean, I offered more help. She said no.”

Gasps all around.

“BUCKY!” you yelled, eyes wide as your hand smacked against his arm.

Sam howled, falling sideways into the cushions. “OH MY GOD. He’s unhinged.”

“Buck!” Steve choked, genuinely shocked but laughing anyway. “What happened to ‘respectful silence’?”

Nat was doubled over, her face buried in a throw pillow. “He’s corrupted! He’s fully gone.”

“I take no responsibility,” Tony said, raising his hands. “This is entirely on Sleeping Beauty.”

You were still glaring at Bucky. “You are so lucky I can’t run right now.”

He just leaned back into the couch, completely unbothered. “Just saying…if she ever needs other help…”

You gasped again, smacking his chest with the back of your hand before hiding your face as the room exploded into another round of laughter.

“DID YOU HEAR HIM?!” Clint yelled, nearly in tears. “This man’s got material.”

Wanda wiped a tear from her eye. “Winter Soldier’s gone full flirt mode.”

Bucky glanced sideways at you, his smirk softening just slightly. “What? I’m just being helpful.”

You peeked at him from behind your hands, face burning. “You’re gonna get me murdered by this team.”

“Nah,” he murmured, “they’d never kill the star of their favorite rom-com.”

You let out a helpless little groan and dropped your face onto his shoulder.

And Bucky just wrapped his arm around you like he’d done nothing wrong at all.

A little while later, Wanda looked up from the puzzle she was half-attempting with Vision. “I’m bored, we should put on a movie.”

“I second that,” Sam said, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Since we can never decide on a movie, we should draw genres,” Wanda suggested. “Make it fair. Everyone writes one, toss them in a bowl, we pick blind.”

Everyone mumbled in agreement, and within minutes, a makeshift bowl of hastily scribbled paper scraps sat on the coffee table.

Steve was chosen as the unbiased picker. He dramatically shuffled them, reached in, and unfolded one with a raised brow.

He stared at it.

“…Rom-com.”

A beat.

The room groaned and cheered simultaneously.

Sam looked personally offended. “You’re kidding.”

Nat grinned. “Let the chaos begin.”

Tony threw his arms up. “YES. We’re going full heart-eyes tonight.”

Wanda turned to you with a knowing look. “You’re getting off easy. Rom-com’s practically your genre.”

You tried to hide your smile and shrugged innocently. “I have no idea what you mean.”

“Okay, okay,” Clint called. “What are we watching? It has to be a classic.”

“10 Things I Hate About You,” Nat said immediately. “It’s not even up for debate.”

There were a few half-hearted objections, but no one could argue.

Soon, the movie was up, lights dimmed, snacks passed around, and everyone was claiming their spots.

You were still on the couch beside Bucky, a shared blanket draped over both your laps. His arm was still settled comfortably behind your shoulders, fingertips just brushing your upper arm. You curled your good leg underneath you, your knee resting gently against Bucky’s thigh.

He didn’t move away.

As the opening scenes rolled, the background chatter faded, replaced by soft laughter and the sounds of popcorn crunching.

A little while into the movie, Bucky’s hand – the one not around your shoulders – shifted beneath the blanket.

Without warning, his fingers brushed lightly against your leg.

Then rested right on your thigh, just above your knee.

You froze.

Your breath caught for half a second. The contact was casual – warm and steady – but somehow it made your whole body buzz.

He didn’t look at you. Didn’t say anything. Just left his hand there, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

You tried to focus on the movie, you really did.

But your heart was pounding.

After a few moments, though, the initial jolt settled. His touch wasn’t demanding or heavy, it just was. And it grounded you, made your chest ache in the nicest way.

You exhaled slowly, eyes drifting toward the screen again.

And that’s when Sam, of course, turned from the floor, where he was sprawled on a bean bag, and narrowed his eyes.

“Hey.”

You and Bucky both looked over.

Sam pointed at the two of you under the blanket. “What’s Barnes doing under there?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Sam.”

“No, no, I’m just asking,” he said, hands raised. “Because that blanket’s suspiciously still and I’ve seen that man break necks with his pinky. You’re telling me he hasn’t moved in twenty minutes?”

Bucky, still calm, still casual, raised a brow. “I’m watching the movie.”

“Are you?” Clint chimed in from the armchair. “Because from here it looks like your hand’s on a side quest.”

The room erupted into snickering.

“Where’s the hand, Barnes?” Tony called dramatically. “We need visual confirmation.”

The room went quiet for a beat, anticipation thick in the air.

Then Bucky, without missing a beat, deadpanned, “Can’t show you. It’s classified.”

The group howled.

“BUCKY!” you gasped, smacking his chest with the back of your hand as your jaw dropped. “What is wrong with you?!”

He just shrugged, clearly proud of himself, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth.

Clint nearly fell off his chair. “He said classified. I’m crying.”

Sam was doubled over, slapping his leg. “Is it stuck? Blink twice if you need help, y/n!”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, burying your face in Bucky’s shoulder as the laughter got louder.

Tony clapped once. “Confirmed: he’s gone full feral. I knew this day would come.”

Nat laughed into her mug. “Honestly? Kinda impressed.”

You were trying to bury your face in Bucky’s side now, half-laughing, half-horrified, your voice muffled. “You are never allowed to speak again.”

He just leaned a little closer to you, speaking so only you could hear, voice low and amused. “You’re cute when you panic.”

You turned your face toward him, still flustered but smiling now, and smacked his chest again. “Stop talking.”

The movie played on, but no one was really paying attention anymore.

Not when Bucky Barnes – Mr. Brooding himself – was cracking jokes like it was open mic night.

Finally, the room had quieted down again as the movie continued playing.

On the screen, Kat Stratford stood in front of the class, her voice trembling just slightly as she read her poem.

You felt it coming.

The tight ache in your throat. The sting behind your eyes.

You weren’t a crier, especially not in front of everyone, but something about this scene always got you, and after the whirlwind of the past few days, it hit even harder now.

You blinked rapidly, trying to be subtle, and quickly wiped at the corner of your eyes with your sleeve.

But Bucky noticed instantly.

He shifted beside you, his arm tightening gently around your shoulders. Then, without a word, he pulled back just enough to look at you – really look.

You didn’t meet his eyes.

His brows furrowed slightly in that way they always did when he was focused. Concerned. And then, softly, his hand slipped away from your thigh under the blanket and reached up.

He used the pad of his thumb to wipe a stray tear from your cheek.

You froze.

The motion was so gentle, so tender, your breath caught in your chest.

Then–

“Oh hell no,” Nat said, breaking the silence.

You flinched and turned your head just as she sat up straighter, smirking like she’d just uncovered the juiciest secret in the world.

“Did he just wipe your tear away mid-rom-com?!”

Sam leaned forward dramatically. “That’s it. He’s done for. He’s all in. That was a whole Hallmark Channel move.”

Clint clutched his chest. “We’ve reached peak softness! I REPEAT – peak softness!”

Tony made a fake crying face. “Someone get me a tissue.”

You groaned, half laughing, half mortified, and pressed your hands to your face. “I hate you all so much.”

Bucky leaned back slowly, completely unfazed. “Don’t worry,” he said calmly, “I’ll get you a tissue next time too.”

You smacked his arm with the blanket, which only made the others laugh louder.

“I’m surrounded by emotional disasters,” Steve muttered, sipping his coffee.

Wanda was grinning behind her mug. “No, Steve. You’re surrounded by love.”

As the team slowly recovered from their collective breakdown, you leaned a little more into Bucky’s side – heart still fluttering and face still warm – and whispered just for him. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything.

Just squeezed your shoulder a little tighter.

As the credits rolled and the soft soundtrack faded out, the common room slowly came back to life.

Sam stretched with a groan, mumbling something about needing real food. Tony announced he was “not cooking for you people,” and Clint was already halfway to the hallway, muttering about laundry. One by one, the others trickled out, Steve heading to unpack, Wanda to her room, Nat grabbing a snack before disappearing into the hall.

You stayed curled under the blanket on the couch, watching the room empty. Bucky stayed beside you, not saying anything, just running his thumb absentmindedly along your shoulder.

When the kitchen finally quieted down again, he turned to you.

“You hungry?”

You turned your head toward him, a little surprised by the question, but your stomach answered for you with a low, unmistakable growl.

Bucky smirked. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

You gave a sheepish smile. “Starving.”

He stood and held out a hand. “C’mon. Let’s make something.”

“You’re not just gonna cook for me again?” you teased, taking his hand as he helped you up.

“I mean I could, but what’s the fun in that,” he said, grinning.

You limped your way into the kitchen with him, heading straight for the fridge as he started pulling out ingredients. Bread, cheese, butter, a pan.

“We need to add garlic salt to the bread” you said, already reaching for the spice rack.

“Really?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“Yesss, it makes it 10 times better,” you said.

He grinned and opened the bread bag. “Fair enough.”

You walked over to the stove and grabbed a piece of bread out of the bag, starting to butter it, when you shifted your weight and immediately winced.

“Sit down,” he said, amused. “You’re gonna fall face-first into the skillet.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You rolled your eyes but gave in, hopping up onto the kitchen island with a slight grunt and letting your ankle dangle. “Happy?”

“Very,” he said, already back at the stove.

You helped from the island, passing him the cheese slices, sprinkling garlic salt on the bread, talking softly while he grilled everything.

When the sandwiches were cooking, Bucky stepped back from the stove and leaned against the counter for a moment. Then he turned and wandered closer – right up to where you were sitting.

He set one hand on the island beside you – not touching, but close – while you continued talking.

The conversation faded naturally, and you glanced up – suddenly realizing how close he was.

His face was just inches from yours, and his body was relaxed, but you could tell he was aware of every inch between you. Or, rather, the lack of inches.

Your heart picked up.

His gaze flicked briefly to your mouth – just for a second – and then back to your eyes.

You didn’t say anything.

Neither did he.

Then–

Ding.

The timer went off, and the skillet let out a loud sizzle at the same time.

Bucky blinked, like he’d just come out of a trance, and casually stepped back without a word, turning to grab a spatula.

You just stared at his back, trying to pull yourself together as he plated the sandwiches.

He slid your plate into your lap and handed you a water bottle from the fridge before jumping up next to you with his own plate.

The two of you ate your sandwiches right there on the counter like it was the most normal thing in the world – legs dangling, plates balanced on your laps – as your conversation continued.

“You’re telling me,” you said, chewing, “you had this level of domestic skill locked away this whole time?”

Bucky gave a small shrug. “Didn’t think it’d impress anyone.”

You snorted. “Bro, you literally wiped away my tears during a rom-com. You’re already halfway to husband of the year.”

He rolled his eyes, but there was a slight pink in his cheeks. “I’m just trying to keep the bar low so I look impressive doing the bare minimum.”

You bumped your knee gently against his. “Smart man.”

After you both finished, the plates were left beside you, and the conversation turned soft and easy, like it always did with him lately. You swung your good leg back and forth beneath the counter, while Bucky leaned back on his hands, head tilted slightly toward you as he listened.

And then, without thinking much, you said, “You know what sounds good right now?”

“What?” he asked.

You smiled. “Ice cream.”

Bucky let out a soft hum of agreement, but the topic drifted. You went right back to talking about something else and you didn’t think anything of it.

A few minutes later, Bucky stood up, walking over to the freezer.

He opened the door, rummaged around for a few seconds, then straightened up with a sigh. “Get your shoes on.”

You blinked. “What?”

He turned back to you, already reaching for his keys from the hook near the back door. “C’mon. I’m taking you to get ice cream.”

Your eyes lit up before you could stop yourself, and you tried to fight the giddy smile that came across your face. “Wait, really? No, Bucky, that’s okay. I didn’t mean–”

He tilted his head at you. “Do you want ice cream?”

You hesitated. “Well, yeah, but–”

“Then you’re getting ice cream.”

You bit your lip to hold back a smile, but couldn’t hide it. “Okay.”

You jumped off the counter onto your good leg as Bucky instinctively reached out to steady you. You walked over to the door and slid on your shoes.

“I just need to grab a jacket from my room real quick.”

But before you could take a step, Bucky reached into the hall closet, pulled something out, and turned back around – holding one of his black leather jackets in his hands.

“Nah,” he said. “You can wear one of mine.”

You looked at him, blinking. “Seriously?”

“‘Course,” he said simply, stepping closer.

He held it out for you and you slipped your arms into the sleeves. The leather was worn and soft, and immediately smelled like him – clean and familiar.

He helped adjust the shoulders, tugging it into place like he’d done it a hundred times.

“You look good in it,” he said offhandedly, but his voice had dropped just enough to make your stomach flip.

You zipped it halfway, glancing up at him. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“I wanted to,” he said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Let’s go get your ice cream.”

And with that, he held out his arm so you could loop yours through for balance and led you toward the elevator.

The elevator dinged softly and you stepped out, the garage cool and quiet this late in the evening.

You both walked around to the passenger side of the car and he opened the door for you, letting you get settled before he closed it and went around to the driver’s side.

You kept up the casual conversation in the car, and it wasn’t long before you pulled up outside a little corner shop, the kind of place that always smelled like waffle cones and childhood.

Inside, it was quiet, just the hum of the freezer and the soft bell over the door. He looked down at the options while you stared into the freezer, eyes wide. “Okay, I forgot how hard this part is.”

“Life-altering decisions,” Bucky said with a smirk. “Choose wisely.”

“You’re gonna judge me, aren’t you?”

“I’m definitely gonna judge you.”

You laughed and ended up pointing to your usual – something sweet and a little over-the-top with cookie chunks and brownie pieces and caramel swirl, of course. Bucky raised a brow.

“Figures,” he muttered, but he ordered it for you anyway.

He went with butter pecan, and you gave him an amused look. “That’s an old man flavor,” you said, giggling while the worker started scooping your choices.

He just side-eyed you, smile peeking through his attempt at an annoyed look. “I am old.”

You continued giggling as the worker handed you your waffle cone and Bucky pulled out his wallet.

After he paid, you grabbed a small table outside, the night air cool against your cheeks as you sat across from him.

You licked your ice cream slowly, then looked up at him. “Thanks for this.”

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Figured you deserved it.”

You gave him a soft smile. That shouldn’t have made your heart skip, but it did.

You continued eating, until a few minutes later, Bucky broke the silence.

“You’ve got…” Bucky motioned to the corner of his mouth.

You stuck out your tongue and licked it, but Bucky just chuckled, making it obvious you missed it.

He leaned forward without thinking.

“Here,” he said softly, reaching across and brushing his thumb against the corner of your lip.

Your breath caught.

His hand lingered for a second too long, eyes flicking down, just once, before he pulled away.

“Got it,” he murmured.

You tried to focus on your ice cream, but you could feel the heat in your face and the rapid beating of your heart like it was trying to break through your ribcage.

When you looked up at him again, he was already watching you.

The moment stretched.

And just like earlier, he didn’t push it.

He finally leaned back in his chair, taking another bite, and said, “so…what’s next after ice cream? You wanna rob a bank or just head back?”

You laughed, grateful for the shift but still feeling that tension humming under your skin.

“Let’s save the bank robbery for our second date.”

He paused for a half-second, then smiled. “Noted.”

On the ride back to the compound, you settled into easy conversation again, still teasing Bucky about his old-man ice cream flavor. When he parked the car and you both got out, you automatically linked your arm through his as you walked to the elevator and got in.

When the elevator doors slid open, you both stepped off laughing, still linked at the arms, walking close like you didn’t even realize how naturally it was happening now.

Bucky was giving you that boyish, slightly smug smile he only gave you, when you rounded the corner into the kitchen where Nat and Wanda were pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

They both looked up at the sound of your laughter.

Nat’s eyes flicked from you to Bucky, taking in the jacket, the linked arms, the flushed cheeks.

Wanda didn’t even try to hide her smirk.

“Wow,” Nat said, closing the pantry door. “Look who came strolling in like they just got back from a rom-com montage.”

Wanda nudged her and grinned. “And in his jacket, no less. Very subtle.”

You laughed softly and gave Bucky a look like see what I have to deal with? “We just went for ice cream.”

“Of course you did,” Wanda said, amused but kind. “Was it good?”

“The best,” Bucky answered easily, eyes on you for a second too long.

Nat raised a brow but didn’t push it – for once. “We’re about to make cookies. You in?”

“Ooooh, yes,” you said. You turned toward Bucky, expecting him to stay, but Nat stepped in quickly with a smirk.

“Sorry, Barnes. This is girls only.”

Bucky chuckled, totally unbothered. “Fair enough.”

You just laughed as you slipped your arm out of his. As he started to walk away, he gave you one last look, warm and lingering. “See ya, doll.”

You smiled. “See ya.”

He turned and walked off, hands in his pockets, still smiling to himself.

As soon as he disappeared down the hall, you started slipping off his jacket, and before you could even get one arm free, the girls jumped in.

“Oh my god,” Nat said, grinning. “You’re so in love.”

Wanda leaned against the counter, hands clasped. “He wiped your tears and gave you his jacket? You two really are straight out of a rom-com.”

You gave them a look, trying not to blush. “You’re being so dramatic.”

“You’re lucky we’re being nice tonight,” Nat teased, taking the jacket and hanging it over a chair for you. “A few weeks ago we would’ve sent a photo to the entire group chat with a ‘look who’s in love’ caption.”

“She still might,” Wanda added with a shrug.

You just shook your head, cheeks warm, but you were smiling too.

You walked over and joined Nat and Wanda at the kitchen island, ingredients spread out across the counter. You all settled into a steady rhythm of measuring and dumping them into the bowl as you talked, soft music playing in the background from Wanda’s phone. It was easy and comforting, the kind of energy you didn’t realize you needed.

Wanda handed you a spoon and sighed. “You’re on stirring duty now,” she said. “My arm’s about to fall off.”

You took it, and as you stirred the thick dough, Nat leaned against the counter beside you and gave you a look.

“So,” she said casually, brushing flour off her hands. “You and Bucky.”

You froze for just a second before looking up at her. “Oh boy.”

Wanda smiled gently and bumped your arm with hers. “Don’t worry, we’re not gonna ambush you. We’re just…curious.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “It’s happening fast, huh?”

You looked down at the dough for a second, then nodded. “Yeah. I mean…I didn’t expect it. Any of it.”

Wanda leaned her elbows on the counter, chin in her hands. “But you’re not freaking out?”

You let out a quiet laugh. “No. That’s the weird part. It should feel like too much too fast, but it doesn’t. It just feels…easy. Like he was always supposed to be part of my life, and I just didn’t realize it until now.”

Both of them went still and quiet for a beat, so you glanced up.

Wanda looked like her heart had just melted.

Nat blinked once. “Wow. Okay. You’re in deep.”

“I know,” you groaned, dropping your head onto your arm on the counter. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s adorable,” Wanda said firmly.

Nat crossed her arms, but her smirk had softened. “You know, for a guy who used to look like he wanted to murder everyone who made eye contact, he’s been grinning like a golden retriever every time you’re together.”

You peeked up from your arm. “Really?”

Wanda nodded. “Like, disgustingly soft.”

“Gross,” Nat muttered. “But also…kind of sweet.”

You sat up a little straighter, a little less panicked now. “You really think he feels the same?”

Wanda smiled, eyes warm. “We know he does.”

Nat grinned and bumped your hip with hers. “And if he doesn’t make a move soon, we’ll force him to.”

You just laughed, heart full and cheeks warm as you continued to stir the dough.

When you were done, you each started rolling the cookie dough, placing them on a baking sheet as the conversation drifted to something else before popping them into the oven.

The first batch of cookies came out golden and warm, filling the kitchen with that perfect, rich smell of sugar and melted chocolate. Nat wasted no time breaking one apart, the chocolate still gooey in the middle, and popped half into her mouth with a satisfied hum.

“Okay,” she said with her mouth full, “we actually nailed it.”

Wanda grinned and grabbed one of her own. “We’re unstoppable.”

You took a bite of yours and immediately closed your eyes. “Oh my god. These are so good.”

The three of you stood at the counter, nibbling on cookies straight from the tray with chocolate smudges on your fingers, laughing in between bites.

Eventually, Wanda grabbed a cloth and started wiping the counter while Nat began stacking mixing bowls in the sink.

“You should take some to Bucky,” Wanda said casually, glancing over her shoulder.

You blinked. “What?”

Nat smirked, not even looking up from the bowl she was rinsing. “You know. Thank him for the ice cream. Offer a peace cookie. Maybe kiss him a little.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you started gathering up dishes and taking them to the sink. “You guys are obsessed.”

Wanda shrugged, very unbothered. “We just support love.”

Nat turned around, still smirking at you. “You’re the one who walked in here in his jacket, glowing like you just got kissed under a streetlamp in a rom-com, and we’re the obsessed ones?”

“I’m just taking him some cookies,” you said, grabbing a plate and stacking a few still-warm ones on it. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” they said in unison.

You gave them both a pointed look, but your smile gave you away. “You guys are ridiculous.”

“We know,” Wanda said sweetly.

Nat just pointed toward the hallway. “Go on, don’t keep him waiting.”

You shook your head with a soft laugh and made your way out of the kitchen. Behind you, you could still hear them giggling as you disappeared down the hall.

When you got to his room, the door was slightly cracked, light spilling into the hall in a soft glow.

You nudged it open with your foot and leaned in. “Hey.”

Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on his bed, phone in hand, and the second he saw you, his whole face lit up.

“Hey. You brought cookies?” he asked, already standing and making his way toward you. “They smell so good.”

You held out the plate with a smile. “Courtesy of girls’ night.”

He took the plate carefully, his eyes never leaving yours. “I wondered whether or not I would get to taste-test.”

Then, gently, his free hand settled on your lower back as he guided you into the room.

“C’mon, sit,” he said softly, helping you over to his bed.

You walked over to his bed and plopped down, wincing when the pressure was finally off your ankle. You didn’t realize how sore it was until now.

Bucky didn’t miss a beat.

He set the plate down on the nightstand, gave you a quick glance, and without a word, crossed to the little mini fridge in the corner of his room.

He pulled out a small ice pack, walked back over, and knelt down in front of you, gently lifting your leg and setting the cold pack on your ankle.

You blinked at him. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said, not looking up as he adjusted the angle. “You’ve been walking around on it all day. I knew it would catch up to you.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest.

He sat down next to you, close but comfortable, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Then he picked up the plate again, offering you the first cookie with a soft smile.

You took it as he grabbed one for himself and leaned over and grabbed the remote.

“What are we watching?” you asked as you took a bite.

“I don’t care,” he said, pressing the power button. “You can choose.”

You just hummed and reached your hand out while he immediately set the remote in it. You scrolled through some options before deciding on a comedy movie you’d seen a million times and handing the remote back to him.

“Never seen this one,” he said, taking another bite of his cookie.

“Oh, it’s so funny, you’re gonna love it,” you responded, smiling up at him.

You sat in silence as the movie started, sitting shoulder to shoulder and snacking on the cookies, laughing together after almost every scene.

You swore to yourself you were actually going to stay awake, wanting to see his reactions to all the funniest scenes, but as you were nearing the end of the movie, you could feel yourself drifting off.

You shifted slightly, your good leg brushing his, and let out the softest little sigh. “M’falling asleep,” you murmured, voice barely audible.

Bucky glanced down, smiling as he saw your eyes flutter shut.

“I figured,” he whispered, his voice low, gentle. “You’ve had a big day.”

You just hummed in response as you felt Bucky’s arm go around you, pulling you closer to him.

And just before you slipped completely into sleep, you felt it–

The soft press of his lips on your forehead.

Barely there, but real, warm.

And the last thing you heard was his quiet voice near your hair.

“Sweet dreams, doll.”

Masterlist

Tag list: @ordelixx @read-just-cant-stop @erinallene @crazycleo @magnoliamermaid @thewriters64 @nelachu2423 @kjah97 @awesompawsum @winchestert101 @buckyb-stan @crazyunsexycool @buckysmetalgoddamnarm @buckybarnesfic @ozwriterchick @multiversefanfics @blavikennbutcher @mysoggywaffle @nameless-ken @starfly-nicole @440mxs-wife @vicmc624 @lostinspace33 @prettylittlepluviophile @softpia @maryevm @glossy01 @ye-olde-trash-panda @bonnyclydecat

#bucky #bucky barnes #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #avengers #marvel #grumpy #the new girl #cassiemaebarnes

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ghostgirl-22 · 2 days ago

Note

Artrick seeing two lesbians making out that look like girl versions of them like almost identical, pats like "dude check it out, they look like us, its literally us" 😭

Dorks lmaooo i love this <3

i threw this in too cause you know pats just gotta feminize him a little.

CW: MDNI, NSFW, unedited though I’ll try to come in later and clean it up

—-

It’s an unseasonably warm Saturday night… one of those nights where it’s still 80 degrees at midnight. They’re in San Francisco and the streets are flooded with people. He’s starting to feel the effects of the weed gummies they took before they left Patrick’s hotel room while they stand line for some nightclub. It’s been disappointing watching all the groups with girls go in at a much faster pace but it’s still early.

“Is it like this every Saturday?” Art asks, gazing around the crowded streets. Everything feels just a little bit heightened now.

”Well it definitely was when me and Tashi were here,” Patrick smirks. He’s gazing at a group of guys shirtless in cowboy hats with sashes on, one of them with a white hat his sash says “Bride to be” all of them walking across the street towards a gay club called Town.

Art’s a little bit overwhelmed if he’s honest. He’s not ventured too far from Palo Alto. He tells Patrick it’s because he’s too busy with work and tennis and school but the truth is he’s kinda having a hard time making friends. He’s so used to Patrick being his built in companion. He never had to venture out alone. A new movie comes out and he doesn’t even have to ask… he just buys the tickets and even if Patrick isn’t interested he tags along. If one of Art’s favorite bands is touring his plans are usually… me and Patrick and whoever else wants to come. But Patrick is always a given.

At Stanford he doesn’t have that. Most of his teammates have other friends or developed friendships in their freshman year. He’s playing with mostly juniors and seniors. Tashi is a superstar who everyone knew or wanted to know from day one so she’s always busy.

No one is mean to him but he does often feel like he’s struggling to find a rhythm. He’s alone a lot of the time and every interaction just feels superficial or like he’s trying too hard to be liked… which is a bit exhausting. None if it comes naturally… and he knows he doesn’t make it easy for people to get to know him either. So used to Patrick who could often tell him how he felt before he realized it himself. Patrick does that He’s starting to realize a lot of the friends he has outside of Patrick he met because of Patrick. Like having him there makes it so much easier for Art to open up… to be… known.

Art can’t admit that to him. He already feels pathetic enough sitting on his hands waiting for Patrick and Tashi to be available.

“Dude,” Patrick says, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?”

Patrick gestures and Art follows his gaze… not sure what he’s looking at.

“You see that? Or am I just really high?” Patrick asks.

“See what?”

“Over there… our dopplegangers.”

Art blinks and squints. He doesn’t see anything and he starts to wonder if maybe Patrick is just really high and then… two people. One with curly blonde hair and the other with curly black, they’re even dressed similar to what the two of them would wear… both in jeans… one in a dark top with white sneakers and the other in a white t-shirt.

Art giggles a little bit. It has to be the weed because he’s not normally a giggler. He covers his mouth but then he has to laugh again. “We’re really fucking high.” Art says as the dopplegangers disappear inside the bar across the street.

“Dude we should follow them,” Patrick says. “Not in a creepy way…” he adds when Art raises his eyebrows. “I just wanna make sure we’re not hallucinating. Come on, why don’t we go over there? There’s no line.”

“Don’t you think there’s no line for a reason?” Art asks.

”Not everything that is worth doing just cause everyone else is doing it.”

“Huh?”

“What I mean is what if everyone was falling off a cliff, would you?”

”You’re stupid when you’re high,” Art grins.

“Shut the fuck up… you know what I mean. Come on,” Patrick snakes his arm around Arts dragging him away.

Art looks back forlornly at how close to the front of the line they’d gotten. But then the bouncer lets a group of 7 girls skip ahead and he shrugs. “Okay fine.”

The woman checking IDs at the entrance of the place across the street stares at them with a mildly confused expression as they hand her their IDs. Art is a bit alarmed that she can tell they’re fake. But she just waves them in with a sort of resigned look and he breathes a sigh of relief. It’s clear Patrick didn’t share any of his concerns. He walks inside like he’s been 21 for years.

There is a crowd but it’s not overwhelming. The music is loud but it seems like they’re setting up the stage up front for a live band. Patrick approaches the bar and orders two rum and cokes, Art leans in next to him. Patrick closes what’s left of the distance between them. “Dude there they are.”

Art turns to look. They’re a few feet away. Blonde leaning into the brunettes ear. Now that they’re closer Art realizes the blonde is a girl, he can see she’s wearing some kind of lip gloss and her eyes look like they're lined with a mascara or whatever girls use to make them pop. She’s smiling at the brunette grabbing onto… her?

The brunette is a girl too. Black curls falling into her eyes. She doesn’t have wild freckles the way Patrick does. At least not that Art can tell in the dim light of the bar.

”Maybe they don’t look as much like us as you thought?” Art says, smirking as Patrick hands him his drink.

“Yeah well…” he trails off as the not-so-doppelgängers start kissing each other. It’s an odd thing to watch because when you can’t see their faces they do kind of look like—

Art feels his stomach flip flop from the memory. Unable to look away, watching the way the brunette is cradling the blondes face, tongues slipping into each other’s mouths. She kisses like— like Patrick.

Art wishes he could stop thinking about that night in the hotel room in Flushing. He’s probably the only one still obsessing over it. Probably because they ended up together and he’s all alone with the memory. A little sick to admit the way he’s thought about Patrick just as much as Tashi ever since then.

He’s dragged from his thoughts by a sudden sharp nudge. it’s Patrick and Art realizes he’s been staring non stop and now their girl dopplegangers are sliding down the bar towards them.

“You guys are almost as cute a couple as we are,” blondie grins, clearly noticing the resemblance.

“I love when the gays come out to a lesbian bar.” The brunette adds and that’s the moment when Art’s slowed down weed addled brain realizes that nearly everyone in the place is female. He turns helplessly to Patrick cheeks slowly heating up with embarrassment and it’s clear Patrick’s just realizing it too but instead of looking properly ashamed…he starts grinning.

“Uh we’re n-not—“ Art begins to stammer his apologies.

”We’ve gotta support each other,” Patrick interrupts throwing his arm over Art’s shoulder. “Besides I usually call him my girlfriend…because he’s just so pretty.”

It’s stupid and Art rolls his eyes but the brunette laughs. “He is kinda pretty.” And the blonde grins, nodding in agreement.

“We’re waiting for our friends. You guys wanna join us?” Blondie asks.

And just like that it goes from odd and humiliating to sitting across from their doppelgangers (blonde Alicia and brunette Nikki actually) and trading shots while singing along to a live cover band. Patrick is just so fucking charming. Art wishes he had even a modicum of that charisma. A couple more girls join them. Surprisingly two of them go to Stanford. They even exchange numbers with Art promising to come watch him play tennis. He promises to go to one of their on campus theater productions.

Five minutes out with Patrick and he’s made friends easily. And that would be fine. That would be enough. But the whole night Patrick’s flirting with him like they’re together. Probably just trying to keep up the facade. It starts out as little things, cupping Art’s cheek, rubbing his hand on the small of his back. Calling him pretty, beautiful. Making the girls call him pretty too.

“God, Patrick,” Art mutters to him, barely able to stand it. It’s got his brain all fucked up (his body too, he’s been nursing a semi for the past hour, shifting to try and hide it from him). Not quite sure how he’s gonna recalibrate back to normal again after tonight.

Then at the end of the night when they’re just about to leave Patrick pulls him closer, an arm wrapped around Art’s shoulder, starts sofly talking in his ear in that gentle tenor “i love when you just go with it… like a good girl. Don’t think too much.”

Art shifts again as his cock fills out fully. Who knew how much he wanted to be Patrick’s good girl.

Patrick starts mouthing at his neck. So drunk. Still a little high. Low rumble of his laugh vibrating along Art’s throat. Laughing like he knows what he’s saying is stupid but he also knows it’s making Art crumble anyway.

Art shivers for the feeling and turns towards him. Faces so close they’re breathing each other in… lips just inches apart…and suddenly they're lips touch. Patrick’s arm still over his shoulder, lips so soft, tongue slipping shamelessly into Art’s mouth. Art hums and feels Patrick smile against his lips breaking the kiss.

Art turns away, heart pounding in his ears before Patrick directs his head back and kisses him again. It feels different than the hotel room. More deliberate. More… everything… everything that left Art tangled up in knots for months. He doesn’t know how long they kiss. Could be 5 minutes… could be an hour. He just knows he’s vibrating out of his skin by the time Patrick eases back. Fingers brushing along Art’s cheek. A little half smile spreading on his lips.

“Damn I’m supportive but save it for the bedroom boys,” one of the girls teases. And it’s only then that Art remembers where he is. Dazed he tries to laugh it off. The whole night feels surreal.

They say goodnight to the girls and they hop in a cab to ride back to Patrick’s hotel. “Nice job, I think you really convinced them,” Art says lightly, still trying to figure out how to come back from that.

“What about you? Are you convinced?”

Art feels his skin burning up. “Of what…”

Patrick laughs. “You think the girls are gonna go home and hook up?” He smirks.

“Dude. Oh my god.”

“What? I mean imagine it… our doppelgängers kissing… then you and I kiss. Our doppelgängers fucking… then you and I…”

“Oh…” Art feels his heart start to beat a little faster.

“That’s right…” Patrick smirks leaning in for another kiss, one hand settling onto Arts lap where it’s obvious he’s not calmed down. “Just go with it.”

#challengers fic #artrick #art x patrick #art donaldson #patrick zweig

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taesanluv3r · 2 days ago

Note

how do you think idol!woonhak and nonidol!reader met? i love ur little series for them🥺

tysm for ur ask!!! i havent had the motivation to write in a while but this ask made me think of the cutest scenario >3< hope u like it!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

the way we met.

trainee/soon to be idol!woonhak x non-idol!reader

no warnings, cutesy fluffy stuff! lowercase intended. pls excuse any spelling or grammatical mistakes.

wc: 1,579

starts under the cut!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

ding~

the bell above the cafe door rings, alerting the single employee working there and the two customers sitting inside that a fourth person had just walked in.

the barista, who stood behind the counter, lifts her head up to greet the boy who had entered. "hi, welcome to bread and butter! what can i help you with today?" she asks, her voice the perfect balance of confidence and charm. "hi! ummm..." he responds, then pauses to read the menu placed above both their heads. she uses this time to examine the guy in front of her.

this was the first time she'd ever seen him. strange. working part-time in that little coffee shop for the past two years, the girl thought she had practically met everyone who lived in the area - he must be from somewhere else. come to think of it, he did look a bit different from everyone else. his hair was evidently damaged - maybe he had bleached it before - and he wore a mask that covered half his face - strange, considering the virus had ended over a year ago at this point! he wore an adidas tracksuit, the top and pants a matching black set, and he looked like he had just worked up a sweat - ah! he probably came from that dance studio nearby...that makes sense. most of the kids her age that hung out around this otherwise old-people area all came from that dance studio...i mean, there's really nothing else around here to do anyways. if it weren't for the fact that she had to care for her lonely grandmother, she wouldn't choose to live here either.

"um...excuse me?"

the male voice shook her out of her head. "huh?" she responds, eyebrows furrowed. "yeah, um- i'm ready to order now...sorry, you were kind of zoning out" his sentence ended with a little giggle, still muffled from the contact of his lips to his mask. for some reason though his smile was crystal clear, maybe cause his eyes squinted into little crescent shapes as he spoke - or maybe, it was the fact that he had such a happy-sounding voice in general.

"oh! sorry...force of habit...what was it that you wanted to order? sorry" she rambled, her cheeks tinted red from embarrassment. "i'll have one iced americano and an almond croissant, please" she nods, beginning to input his order into the screen in front of her. "and would that be dine in or take out?" there was a moment of silence as the boy thought shortly about his answer. "i'll eat here, please" they share another silent nod. "alright, here's your total, just tap your card or phone when you're ready" the boy pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping the backside of it against the 'tap to pay' machine.

"alright, take a seat wherever, i'll bring your food out in a second!" - "alright, thanks!"

the boy settles down in the table closest to the barista bar. he removes his mask as he takes in his surroundings. he had never been to this place before, despite practicing at the nearby dance studio for a while now. one of his friends recommended it to him, said the coffee was delicious and the barista working there was just as sweet as the pastries. he agreed with that, eyes wandering over to the girl who expertly began to press and drip his iced americano into a glass - she must've been working here long, everything she did in the bar looked so natural. her hair was tied up in a little bun, and it bounced along with her as she walked over to the tray of croissants. the brown apron she wore fit snugly around her waist and not after long the boy catches himself staring - only a second after she had caught him too.

"alright...here's your iced americano, and your almond croissant!" the barista girl - who doubled as the waitress today - smiled, placing the coffee and pastry onto the table. "wow~ thank you...er- huh..." the boy's puzzled expression confuses her. "what's wrong?" she asks, wondering if it were something she did or had said. "oh! sorry, i was just searching for your name but you don't have a name tag. and i've just- i've never met a barista with no name tag" he laughs awkwardly, this time his smile is fully visible. the girl scans his whole face for the first time, "...cute"

"what?"

her eyes went wide. "shoot! did i say that out loud?" she mentally slapped herself in the face. the boy laughs, amused at her sudden confession. "sorry...what i meant was that...um..." she didn't know what to say, so he spoke for her. "that you think i'm cute?" he asked, a snaggle-toothed smile still holding onto his lips. the girl sighed, pressing the serving tray against her chest in defeat. "yeah...i guess you are pretty cute- what are you, a trainee?" she giggles, shaking her head as if her words were so totally far from the truth.

"and what if i am?" he asks, lifting a single eyebrow up in question. "then...then i guess it'd make sense. i've never seen you before, but i've met some kids from the studio nearby- they say a few idol trainees practice there and i mean you're fit, handsome, and you kinda have that star quality vibe so...i guess...yeah"

the compliments laced in her speech-like ramble made the boy feel all warm and fuzzy inside. "well you're right, i am a trainee" the girl smiles, feeling prideful from her correct assumption. "cool! well, um...enjoy your croissant and...good luck! you know, with the training and stuff...hope you debut soon!" he shot her one last toothy grin, before she returned to her counter. "thanks"

for the next hour or so, the boy remained seated in the little coffee shop. he had finished up his croissant, and was about to finish the rest of his coffee too. the whole time he was sitting there, he couldn't help but watch the barista girl at work. he watched the way she smiled warmly as she greeted customers, the way loose ends of her hair would fall against her cheeks as she prepared cups of coffee, and the way she would occasionally steal glances at him, making them both shy as they looked the other way.

the guy only decides it's time to leave when a banner appears brightly on his phone, alerting him of his next practice hour. as he goes to swipe the notification away, another one comes in. a text from his friend, the same friend that had recommended this cafe to him before.

sanghyukie hyung: yo can u get me an iced choco to go plz. and dongmin wants an iced americano. thx 😁

he sighs, rolling his eyes as he replies with a single letter.

k 🙄

the boy gets up, making his way back to the counter. "hey, what's up?" the girl asks, a smile on her face. "hey, can i get an iced choco and an iced americano to go, please? i have to head to practice but my friends asked me to get them drinks while i'm here" she nods, finding the defeated expression on his face quite cute.

"okay, just tap when you're ready!" the barista girl says, pointing to the payment machine. "yup" the trainee boy replies, tapping his phone against it. "oh! and i'm gonna need a name for those drinks" she says, grabbing a sharpie from the pen holder to her right.

"oh, right! it's woonhak." there's this little glint in her eyes when he speaks, like she was a lot happier to learn his name than she should be. "okay then, your drinks will be ready soon!" - "yup, thank you"

just about 7 minutes later, the sound of his own name being called out nearly made the boy jump out of his skin. "iced choco and iced americano for woonhak!" he got up from the chair in the waiting area, and walked right up to the pick-up counter. "here's your drinks to go, enjoy- or, tell your friends to enjoy" she giggles, and he smiles (again. they're a very smiley pair). "thank you...um..." he trails off, eyebrows furrowing again. "oh! wait!" she exclaimed, catching him off guard as she disappears below the counter. she jumps back out a seconds later, "tada~" she cheers, pointing at the spot on her apron right next to her chest. the boy laughs, moving closer to finally learn the name on her tag.

"ah...thank you, yn"

there was something about the way he said it that made her stomach do flips. "you...you're welcome" they stared at each other for a bit, their gazes lingering - as if the rest of the little coffee shop was moving in slow motion. "um- well, uh...i have to go back to practice now...thank you, again" woonhak laughs softly, finding it silly how shy he was being around her. "right! um...fighting! come again soon" he nods, "i definitely will"

"it was nice to meet you, woonhak" the barista girl says finally, possibly the warmest smile she had ever smiled on her face. the trainee boy reciprocated, "right back at you, yn" waving softly as he began to leave.

little did the two smiley idiots know that this would be the start of a very sweet romance.

the end.

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖

THANK U AGAIN FOR THE ASK!!! haven't written in what feels like AGES so this was such a good way to get back <3 i think this little scenario suits hakie sm TT speaking of hakie HAVE U GUYS SEEEEN THE CONCEPT PICSSS they all look so good, cant wait for this cb!!!! thx again anon for giving me writing material :3 luv u! love, kona.

#kona's work ♡#kona's asks ♡#boynextdoor #boynextdoor x reader #boynextdoor imagines #boynextdoor drabbles #bnd x reader #woonhak #kim woonhak #bnd woonhak #kim woonhak x reader #boynextdoor woonhak #woonhak x reader #boynextdoor scenarios

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bingbongsupremacy · 3 days ago

Text

Time Flies Pt. 2

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warning: Y/N use, swearing, rejection, ghosting

Summary: It's been 3 years since Eddie left Hawkins to attain his dream of stardom. During that time, your relationship ended. What happens when Eddie returns after Wayne gets hurt?

*Not Proof Read*

Pt. 1

□□□□□□□

I was in the middle of my late-night shift at Sam's Diner when I got the call. On his way home from his shift, Wayne had crashed into the back of a semi truck after accidentally falling asleep behind the wheel.

I have been trying to tell him to take better care of himself. Every other week, Wayne and I have dinner together and catch up. A few weeks ago he got switched to nightcrew, a shift time he hasn't worked in years. He was having a hard time switching his sleeping schedule.

I asked him if he'd ever consider retiring. He's at an age where he doesn't need to work anymore. Of course, he said no.

Wayne's always been a stubborn one.

I rush into the emergency section of the hospital, passing the nearly empty seating area.

"Hello, how can I help you?" An older woman asks as I arrive at the desk.

"I'm one of the emergency contacts for Wayne Munson. About 20 minutes ago I got a call saying he's been in an accident. I'm here to see him." My fingers nervously tap against the cool sand colored counter top.

I hope he's okay. They mentioned something about a surgery but not much else.

The woman flips through a clipboard of information. She scribbles something one of the open lines after asking my name. "We'll take you back in just a minute. For now, why don't you go have a seat and a doctor will be out as soon as Mr. Munson is out of surgery."

I thank the woman and make my way back to the seating area. Rows of chairs line the wall with small brown tables covered in magazines littered in between every few. The chairs are covered with a grainy looking light blue cloth. In the far corner of the room rests a TV which is sitting on a stand. The soft buzz of a random late night television show fills my ears as I take a seat near it.

As soon as I sit down in my chair I feel exhaustion ache in my bones. I had been so busy trying to get over here that I completely forgot how tired I am. The 10 hour shift is really taking a toll.

Cold air nips at my exposed legs. I try to pull the hem of my work skirt further down my legs to protect me from the chilly room. It doesn't work.

I lean my head back against the wall. My eyes wander towards the TV, trying to distract my brain from my worries and exhaustion.

A few hours pass with little to no updates. The room stays relatively quiet and undisturbed. Every once in a while a nurse leaving or coming in for a shift will pass through the doors, but other than that, no one new enters the emergency room.

It's around 12 when I hear the emergency room entrance doors open. I don't bother pulling my eyes away from the TV as a hurried person rushes past me in the seating area.

The person makes it to the front desk and starts to talk to the nurse behind it. "My uncle got into a crash a few hours ago. I need to see him."

My heavy eyes snap open wide at the sound of the familiar voice. His voice is slightly more raspy than before but there's no mistaking who it is.

My stomach sinks as my suspicious are confirmed. I look over to the owner of the voice and take in the image in front of me.

Eddie's back is to me. His dark frizzy curls at tied back into a low messy bun at the nape of his neck. His back is covered by a black leather jacket. The logo for Corrodded Coffin is finely pasted in the middle. Black ripped skinny jeans stretch down his thighs and legs, stopping before his worn black converses. The waiting room lights reflect off of the detailed rings wrapped around his fingers. They gently clink against the counter top as he rests his hands on it.

It's Eddie alright.

I shouldn't be surprised, Wayne is his uncle. Of course Eddie would be here to see him.

How did he get here so fast?

The nurse's words fall deaf on my ears as I continue to stare at Eddie in shock. I assume she's telling him everything she told me.

This feels so surreal. It's been almost five years now since the last time I saw him.

Part of me is pissed. I want to get up and confront him. I want to ask why he never told me about his girlfriend wanting us to stop talking. I want to know why he didn't just end things between us himself. I want to know why he would treat me like his best friend for years when in the end, the relationship obviously meant nothing to him.

The other part misses him.

I don't know how this is going to play out. Will he ignore me and continue pretending I never existed? Will he try to strike up some awkward conversation?

What should I do? Do I say hi? Does he remember me? A lot has changed over the past few years. I definitely don't look the same as before.

I'm also embarrassed. He's made it big. He's successful and doing what he loves. Meanwhile, I'm still working a shitty job for shitty pay in the same town we grew up in.

I pull my eyes away from Eddie and try to settle my nerves. I could just get up and leave. He hasn't seen me yet. I could avoid the whole situation and just come back when he's not here.

Stop. This isn't about me it's definitely not about the past. This is about Wayne. He needs support and that support happens to be me and Eddie. My shit with Eddie can wait until Wayne is okay.

I didn't realize Eddie's conversation with the nurse had ended until he spoke out from beside me.

"Y/N?"

"Eddie." My eyes rise to meet Eddie's gaze.

Strands of loose curls frame his once clean-shaven face, which is now covered in facial hair. His once boyish looks have evolved into those of a grown man. His brows are furrowed in confusion as he takes me in.

I feel the crush I've worked so hard to push aside and get rid of begin to bubble in my stomach. I do my best to ignore it, trying to focus on Wayne and the issue at hand.

"What are you doing here?" He asks while taking a seat on a chair across from me.

"I'm Wayne's emergency contact." I reply, my posture stiffening. "A nurse called me when he was brought in. How...How did you get here so fast? Don't you live in like LA or something?" I ask, very confused how he could've gotten here in less than 3 hours.

"The boys and I were in Indy for a meeting with our label yesterday. I was in my hotel when my assistant told me what happened." Eddie explains with a sigh. He slouches and buries his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees. "I got here as soon as I could."

As much as I want to stop talking to him and leave him in silence, the way he left me, I can't help but feel bad. He's always loved his uncle, and that's undoubtedly not changed. Wayne's been the only consistent parental figure throughout Eddie's life. I can't imagine how he feels.

"I'm sorry about your uncle, Eddie. He's a strong guy. He'll be okay." I try to reassure the man.

Eddie nods, lifting his head from his hands. "I hope so."

I send him a tight smile in an effort to comfort him.

"Thank you for being here for him and keeping him company. I appreciate it." Eddie's eyes are sincere. "He's told me all you've done for him, and...it means a lot."

I nod. "Of course. I like spending time with Wayne. He means a lot to me."

We silently sit across from each other, the buzz of the tv being the only sound. We both avoid each others gaze, neither of us sure what to say.

It's not that I don't want to say something to him. I just don't know where to start.

"You work at Sam's?" Eddie breaks the silence.

I shift slightly in my seat to try to relieve some of the discomfort from sitting for so long. "Yeah, I do. I'm a waitress."

Eddie nods. "How long have you been working there?"

I shrug. "Like 3 years."

"Do you like it there?"

"You don't have to do that." I sigh while rubbing my temples. The gesture slightly relieves the tension building in my head.

"What?" Eddie asks confused.

This ignites a flicker of anger in my chest. How dare he act stupid, like he hasn't done anything wrong.

"Pretend you give a shit, Eddie. We don't have to sit here and talk. We're both here for Wayne. We can be here for Wayne without needing to talk to each other." I try to keep my tone calm.

"I do give a shit, look there's a lot I have to explain-"Eddie begins. I don't let him finish.

"You sure have a funny way of showing it." I let out a humorless laugh. "Usually, when people care about other people, they don't completely drop them without notice. They'd have the decency to call and end things the right way, or I don't know...maybe just keep talking to them?" I frown at the man. "I thought I was your 'bestfriend' Eddie. You sure had a funny way of showing it."

Eddie's brows furrowed. "What the fuck are you talking about? Yeah, there was a while where I wasn't able to call a ton or really write anything, but I still tried to send something. It wasn't just a you thing. I barely had time to call Wayne, but I tried to fix that when things started to die down, and I tried calling you again. You never picked up." He sits up and leans closer to me. His hands animate the things he's saying, a habit he's had ever since we were children. "I also wrote hundreds of letters. You never responded to any of them. You're mad at me for not reaching out? I tried for years. Eventually, I stopped because I thought you wanted nothing to do with me anymore."

I scoff and fold my arms, pulling my gaze away from the man and back towards the tv. I can't believe he'd try to lie. "Yeah, sure. Funny thing about those letters...I never got any of them. You don't need to lie. It's just making things worse."

Eddie shakes his head. "I'm not lying-"

At the same time, a doctor steps into the waiting room. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything." The man says. "Mr. Munson is out of surgery."

My anger towards Eddie simmers down as I turn my full attention to the doctor. "Thank God." I let out a sigh of relief.

"What happened?" Eddie asks. "How bad is it?"

The doctor looks down at the clip board in his hands. "Mr. Munson is doing well. He's stable. right now he's just resting. We're going to keep him here for a few days under observation. We want to make sure his wounds are healing properly before sending him home." The man informs. "He has a broken arm and he was cut pretty badly from the crash. He also has a broken leg and a concussion. He is going to need physical therapy but he's alright. He's a very lucky man."

My heart aches at the sound of Wayne's injuries. He made it though. I knew he would.

"He's sleeping right now but I'll take you back to see him if you'd like." The doctor offers.

"Yes."

"Yes please."

Eddie and I reply at the same time.

The doctor nods and we both stand up. Eddie and I silently follow the doctor through the hospital halls as he leads us to Wayne's room. Once we make it to the room, the doctor opens the door to reveal Wayne.

Just like the doctor said, Wayne is sleeping. His arm is covered by a white cast. His leg, covered in a similar cast, is elevated by a machine. Wayne's face is littered with small cuts and gashes. A blackening bruise rests under his left eye. On that same side, his face is puffy and full of angry bruises. His chest is covered by a hospital gown. Tubes are connected to him in various places, leading to different machines and an IV stand.

I stand still from shock at the sight of the man. "Oh Wayne." I whisper, horrified at the sight ahead of me.

The doctor excuses himself from us, telling us to let a nurse know if we need anything.

Eddie steps further into the room until he reaches the side of Wayne's bed. "I'm here, Uncle Wayne. I'm sorry I haven't been able to come sooner." He mutters to the older man. Eddie pulls chair to the side of his uncle's bed before taking a seat.

I finally managed to make myself walk in further. "I should've pushed him harder to retire." I say, guilt eating away at me. If I had kept pushing, maybe he would've listened.

Eddie shakes his head. He gently reaches for his uncle's uninjured arm to hold his hand. "You know how he is. He still wouldn't have listened. I've been trying to get him to retire for years now. I told him he didn't need to worry about bills. I've got him covered. Fuck, I told him I could buy him a house if he wanted or a new trailer. Move him to a nice retirement community near LA with a golf course. He didn't want any of it."

"He's definitely stubborn." I take a seat on an extra chair in the room.

For a moment our fight is forgotten about. All that we're focused on is Wayne.

"Oh yeah." Eddie agrees. " I've been trying to get him to quit smoking for years. He's still smoking a pack a day." Eddie chuckles slightly, probably remembering a conversation with his uncle.

I smile softly. "That sounds like him. I've been trying to get him to quit too."

"It's a hard one to break from. It took me lots of attempts to finally stop." Eddie releases his uncle's hand.

"You don't smoke anymore? " I ask, slightly surprised. He started smoking cigarettes and weed as soon as we got into high school, a habit I thought he was going to keep forever.

"Nah." Eddie shakes his head. "Jenny didn't like the smell of smoke. Gave me an ultimatum, and I chose to quit. Plus, there are all those studies coming out about what smoking does to your lungs."

Jenny? That has to be his girlfriend.

"Good on you."

"Thanks." Eddie turns his gaze back to me. He's silent for a moment as he thinks. "Look, I know there's a lot of stuff that's gone on between us, but I think we need to talk about it. I don't want to make things awkward for Wayne when he wakes up."

I mean, I know he's right. Wayne is going to need peace. He's also going to need all the support he can get. The only way we can work past this is if we talk about it.

"Fine." I let out a tired sigh. "For Wayne."

"For Wayne." Eddie agrees.

Curiosity bites at the back of my mind as I run through the argument from before. Did he really send letters? If he did, why didn't I ever get any of them?

"I think there's been some miscommunication somewhere along the line. I don't know what happened but I think together we can figure it out." Eddie begins. "Do you want to go first? Tell me what happened from your point of view? And then I'll tell you what happened with me?"

The anger in me has died down. I just want to get through this.

"You left and just stopped calling or writing and you never explained why. I found out from one of the boys that your girlfriend didn't like you talking to other girls and I figured that was why you stopped reaching out. It just hurt that you wouldn't tell me yourself that first of all, you had a girlfriend and second of all, that she doesn't feel comfortable with you talking to me. As much as it would've hurt, I would've understood. Your relationship with her comes first." I explain. My heart aches from the memories that resurface as I speak. Memories of waiting by the phone for Eddie to call or checking the mail for a new card or letter.

Eddie nods. " Yeah I should've told you about Jenny. At the time, I thought I was sparing your feelings. I mean, I know what it's like to find out the person you like is dating someone else. I didn't want to break your heart even more. I see now that it was a shady thing to do and just weird." He continues. "However, I did try to call whenever I could and I swear that I sent letters. I just never heard back."

"I seriously didn't get anything." I scan his eyes for any sign of lying. He seems genuine. " Around the second year of you leaving everything from you completely stopped. And I tried writing you too a few times. I thought you were ignoring me."

Eddie's face twists in confusion. "I promise I sent you letters. I even started sending them to your new address-"

"My new address?" It's my turn to be confused. "Eddie, I never moved. I still live in the same house as before."

"What? Jenny said you called to let her know you moved across town. I started sending everything to your new address. She also gave me your new number." Eddie pulls out a his wallet from his pocket. He slips out a small folded paper. He gets up and brings it to me. On the paper are the names of different people, their numbers and addresses. His bandmates are listed among the names along with Wayne's. My eyes find my towards the bottom of the page. An unfamiliar address and number are messily jotted to the side.

"That's not my address or my number." I shake my head and hand the paper back.

Eddie's face hardens. "I think I know what happened."

"What?"

"Jenny had a problem with being possessive. Before we dated, she was my assistant. She was in charge of taking calls for the band or letting us know about meetings or important changes. When we started dating, she hated me talking to other girls. There was a really bad jealousy problem." Eddie lets out a huff of laughter in disbelief. "I can't believe I'm so stupid." He shakes his head. "I always had a suspicion that she was interfering with my other relationships. Certain people would change their numbers, and suddenly I couldn't get ahold of them anymore. I just never had proof. I thought there was something wrong with me that was causing others to just drop me."

"Why didn't you talk to Wayne and ask him to confirm my number and address? He would've given you the right information."

"I never thought about it. I didn't think-well, I didn't want to believe Jenny would do that to me." Eddie's cheeks slightly heat from embarrassment.

"You could've told Wayne to invite me over so we could figure this out. Why didn't you tell him to let me know when you were coming over?" I ask.

Eddie groans and drops his head into his hands. "I'm so stupid. I thought you wanted me out of your life. And I honestly didn't think about that. I am such an idiot, Y/N. This was so obvious, and I still didn't see what was going on. What else did Jenny screw up for me?" He finally lifts his head back up to look at me. "She was probably keeping the letters from you. That's why I never saw them. I wouldn't put it past her."

"It's not just your fault. I should've asked Wayne what was going on with you. We could've figured this out if I had just asked him about it." I feel so stupid. This whole time I thought Eddie didn't want to be friends with me. In reality, his possessive girlfriend was fucking with everything.

"I guess we're both idiots then." Eddie chuckles.

I smile slightly. "Yeah. At least we figured it out now instead of 30 years down the line."

"That's true."

I bite the inside of my cheek, contemplating if I should ask. Eventaully, I decide to. "Are you still dating Jenny? After all of that, I hope not."

"No way. I caught her cheating with the lead singer of another band we were opening for and ended things." Eddie pauses. "I also realized that I had feelings for someone else."

My heart drops slightly. "Oh?" I say casually. I avert my gaze down to my lap where I try to smooth out my skirt.

"Yeah." Eddie confirms. "You see, when I was younger I was stupid. I didn't know the difference between platonic love and romantic love. I didn't realize that it's not normal to wonder what it be like to make out with your friend or hold their hand."

My stomach begins to churn. He's not talking about me, right?

"When I was dating Jenny, I realized that I didn't feel the same way about her as I felt for this other person. By the time I realized this, it was too late-we weren't talking anymore."

My eyes snap up as I realize he is talking about me. "I thought you didn't like me."

"You don't realize what you have until it's gone." Eddie responds quietly, his gaze steadily holding mine. "Leaving you was one of the biggest regrets I have. If I could go back, I would've found a way to take you with me."

"Really?" I ask, shocked at his confession.

"Yeah."

We stare at each other for a moment.

I'm not sure how to respond.

"What do we do from here?" I ask, unsure.

"Well, we've got a lot to catch up on. Do you want to start out with dinner?" Eddie asks, slightly nervous.

A small smile makes its way on my face. "I'd like that."

We'll worry about that later. Right now, we've got to help Wayne.

Maybe things will go back to normal with Eddie. Maybe they won't. Time will tell. All I can do is hope for the best.

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