#BUT I’M FULL TIME AND DON’T GET A BREAK

[peachesofteal]

Like Real People Do previous + masterlist + AO3 Simon Riley/female reader - hospital au CW: none

“Where’s Liam? Her husband.”

“In the NICU with the baby.” You search for air in the room like a fish out of water, not surprised to find it lacking. “He’s been going back and forth.”

“Right.” There’s a patient in this bed, and it shouldn’t be your sister. Your sister, who was suddenly pre-eclamptic and had a massive pulmonary embolism, who delivered a tiny, twenty six week old baby who’s upstairs on a vent. “She um, has there been a neurological exam?” The nurse shakes her head sympathetically.

“Not yet.”

“And they’re sure it was a PE?” PE, worst case scenario normally, but Tess’s was worse. The kind that kills you.

“They’re sure.” You eye the computer on the desk. You’ll absolutely lose your job if you pulled up her chart but the desire to comb through every single test, every single note, is burning under your skin. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you though.” She’s sweet. You don’t know how ICU nurses do it. You patch your patients up and send them on their way, either to another unit or out the door, while they watch theirs die half the time. “I’m just going to sit for a while.”

“Okay. Let me know.” She motions to the call button and you give her a weak smile, swallowing the nausea rising in your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Oh. Hi.” He regards you evenly, rhythm of the rocking chair never missing a beat.

“He was having trouble regulating his temperature.” The texture of your scrubs against your skin suddenly feels too scratchy, the room itself too warm.

Doctor Riley is shirtless. In your patient’s room. Shirtless.

“Right.” He nods, like it’s natural, like he’s not sitting in here, with your tiny patient cradled against his chest, Eli’s small arms and legs and feet and toes curled up on his forearm, the wide expanse of his palm pressed to his back. “I uh, I just need his blood pressure.” You weren’t even supposed to have this baby today, but Key asked you to switch, something about being overly attached and needing a break and now, you’re standing frozen in the doorway frozen with what you’re sure is a stupid, dumbstruck expression. He cocks his head.

“Daisy? You okay?” Yes. No. You don’t know. Your reaction to him is unsettling. It’s like an undertow, and  your arms are weak, your muscles are burning, and you’re trying so hard to swim against the current, to fight it.

But you’re losing.

And you never lose, you can’t lose. Not now. Not when you have Riley, or she has you, and you have everything on your fucking shoulders, dragging you down into the dirt.

“Daisy, hey.” Eli is back in his crib, Doctor Riley’s scrub top is on, and he’s standing in front of you, hand hovering at your elbow. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the heat of his skin, and the growing need inside you urges you to lean into it, into him. “What is it?” I’m tired, you want to confess, it’s too heavy, it’s crushing me.

“Nothing, sorry, just didn’t sleep super well.” Your patient squirms, and then lets out the smallest cry, interrupting the tightrope you’re standing on, and you give Doctor Riley an apologetic smile. “I should get him. He's uh, NPO for surgery later today, right?”

"That's right. Are you circulating?" You try to look away as he rolls his shoulder and his scrub top rides up his belly, exposing a sliver of skin just above his pants, but it's impossible not to linger on him. He clears his throat, and your cheeks flood when you realize he's also staring at you, waiting for a response. Jesus Christ.

"Oh, no. It'll be Isa." He frowns.

"I thought-"

"We switched." You shrug, trying to play it casual, and his relaxed demeanor changes, turns tense as his jaw hardens to stone.

"You what?" He looks pissed, and you scramble to try to explain it.

"Yeah, we, a few of us, switch sometimes. No big deal, we-"

"Daisy," Your name is heavy gravel echoing from his chest, low and full of warning, and you brace for his usual anger, or impatience but it doesn't come. Instead, he closes his eyes and takes a very long, very deep breath, and rubs his face. "No more switching without my approval, do you understand?"

"I-" He cuts you off.

"Do you understand, Daisy?" In all the pieces of this man that you've seen, this one is the strangest. It's the firm yet tender one, the one that makes your knees weak and your head hurt. The one that ignites the flame, and every time he takes it with him, it leaves you alone. cold. Confused.

"Yes, I understand Doctor Riley."

The very pretty woman with the very cute toddler clinging to her legs is standing off to the side across from the nurses station.

“Do you need help?” Maybe she’s visiting a patient? Though kids aren’t usually allowed in the NICU. She gives you a smile, and ruffles the little boy’s hair.

“No, we’re okay. Thank you. Just waiting for-” The toddler giggles at something down the hall, and without even looking, you know.

It’s Doctor Riley. He’s wearing casual clothes, the second time you’ve seen him in them in a month, and a dark blue baseball cap, though it doesn’t do much to hide the crinkle of his eyes when he gets closer to the woman and her child. He looks good, he looks great, he looks-

like he could ruin you as he goes down on one knee and the little boy flings himself into his arms, his chest rumbling with a chuckle as he pretends to gnaw on him. They fit together, same sandy blonde-brown hair, same eyes, same stocky build. Reality crashes into you like a tidal wave, and you try to ignore the way your throat constricts. The reaction is completely illogical.

You try to appear busy as he stands with the boy and flings him over his shoulder, leaning in to give the woman a kiss on her cheek. “Get in alright?”

“No problems, yeah.” He tucks her into his side, the two of them shouldering the weight of the boy now, and he giggles.

“Should we get this hungry lad to dinner?” She nods agreeably, and he hitches the toddler onto his hip, his babbling and giggling still rolling even as he snuggles into Doctor Riley’s chest. You tear your eyes away and start clicking mindlessly through a chart, trying to ignore the weird tangle in your chest, a knot tugging tighter and tighter, compressing your rib cage.

What is wrong with you?

“Daisy.”

“Sorry? I was looking at these labs.” The toddler swings his legs and Doctor Riley stills him. The knot gets tighter.

“I said Karim is on call tonight, but if anything is urgent let me know too. Especially with Ellie.”

“Okay.” Ellie is straddling a thin line. Some days she’s great, some days she’s struggling, and it can all turn on a dime so fast your head spins. “We’ll let you know. Have a good night.” There’s a brief interlude, a moment of silence as he looks you over from head to toe, and then scoots the boy up higher on his side.

“You too.”

The HR woman looks like she’d rather be anywhere else but here right now.

And she probably does.

You certainly wouldn’t want to be sitting behind a desk, staring at someone as they realize their loved one won’t have health insurance for a full calendar year.

“I don’t understand.” You keep trying to make it make sense, to fit the puzzle pieces together, but nothing clicks. “That… I wouldn’t do that. I’m careful, I’m so careful.”

“I understand this is difficult-”

“I have a medically vulnerable dependent. You don’t understand anything.” You shoot to your feet. “So what does this mean?”

“You’ll need to make arrangements for Riley’s health insurance after her current plan expires in three months.” You’re going to be sick all over this ugly office carpet. “You can look at plans on the marketplace, or apply for medicaid.” You laugh. It’s sharp and brittle, heavy with disbelief, anger. You don’t qualify for medicaid, you’ve tried. Your income level is above the threshold, even though your costs drain you dry. And looking for insurance on the marketplace is no better. Those plans start at eight hundred dollars a month.

“I chose this plan for her specifically, for what she might need if something happened. Why didn’t she just roll over onto the new plan with me? She’s been my dependent for years.”

“You have to enroll everyone individually when you change plans. The instructions are very clear.” This is all your fault. You did this. You were careless. You were stupid.

Your stomach flips and thrashes.

“Okay.”

“Any medical care you or Riley receive here will be heavily discounted.”

“That’s… that’s great. Thanks.” You’re speaking but you don’t know what you’re saying. Everything is numb except for your nausea, which is rapidly turning the contents in your stomach into a projectile. “I have to go.” You rush out, and before she can even answer, you’re down the hall, slamming into a bathroom and keeling over the toilet.

Fuck.

“Just get married.” You drop your spoon and it clatters on the table. Olivia looks unimpressed, but Ava can never be deterred.

“Ava.”

“What? Pick someone. You’re smart and kind and funny and beautiful. I’m sure someone around here would marry you in a heartbeat.” She’s so nonchalant about it, like this is a logical solution.

“And tell them by doing so they’re committing fraud with me?” Her sigh is exasperated.

“Oh come on. Have you never read a romance novel?”

“Sorry I don’t exactly have a lot of time to read.” She waves you off.

“It’s called marriage of convenience. Get married, stay married until you can enroll Riley in health insurance again and it kicks in, get divorced, or…”

“Or?”

“Maybe fall in love along the way?” You choke on your yogurt.

“You’re actually insane.”

“Uh-” Olivia whispers, but it’s too late. Doctor Price is looming over Ava’s shoulder.

“Hey girls. “Causin’ trouble over here?” He winks, and she beams up at him.

“Us? Never.”

“Well I-” His phone interrupts him with a shrill ring, and as he walks off, Ava turns to you, suddenly very serious.

“Except him. I call dibs.”

The day is bad but it’s nothing compared to the weight on your chest.

It has you pinned down, immobile, stuck behind the wheel of the truck, keys in the ignition, staring through the windshield at nothing. Maybe the crack of sunlight between the concrete barriers of the parking garage if you were forced to pick something, the tangerine pink shadows of the setting sun scrawling across the sky.

You keep replaying the conversation with the HR rep over and over and over, like a broken fucking record, a carousel you can’t get off. The sun sinks lower and you know you need to leave, you need to get home, but you can’t bring yourself to put your foot on the pedal.

Who are you going home to? The kid you’ve failed, again? This is far worse than a late school drop off or too much ice cream before bed or a momentary short straw of patience.

You’re so lost in your own head you don’t even hear the knock on your window, and it takes the metal creak of the door being tugged on to snap you to attention.

Doctor Riley.

Simon.

He’s holding the handle with an expectant look on his face, and you hit the unlock button.

You don’t know why you do it, why you sit there shock still as he reaches across you to turn the truck off and pull the keys from the ignition, why you turn in the seat to face him, immediately holding your breath.

He’s so confusing. The rough edges, his gritty accent and sharp, biting words are nowhere to be found sometimes, and what’s left in their place is this. This man. The one who watches you, who’s pushing you closer and closer to an edge like he already knows what will happen, like he’s waiting for it.

Like he wants to destroy your foundation, your armor, like he wants to shred your control.

All of it by design.

“What is it?” You shake your head. There’s nothing you can say, nothing to give him that would explain the direness of your situation, the depth of your failure. Your lungs are burning, but you can’t bring yourself to release the air the you’re holding in your chest. “Daisy. Let it out.” Your refusal is steadfast, but he outfoxes you, places his hand on your thigh and takes you by surprise, the reaction rippling through to force your exhale. “That’s it, good,” the praise feels better than it should, and oxygen comes easier. So does the next one, and his hand doesn’t move as he coaxes you. “You’re doing great.” Eventually, stasis returns as your breathing evens out, and you try to come up with something, anything to say.

“Doctor Ri-”

“Simon. Outside of work, that’s who I am to you. Simon.” You feel the urge to freeze your lungs all over again, but like he’s reading your mind, he squeezes your thigh and the pressure is thoroughly distracting. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I had a bad day.” A shit summation but the only one you can offer. His chest expands with his own deep breath. “That’s all.”

“That’s all.” He echoes. “You had a bad day, so you’ve been sitting in the garage for a half an hour with your truck running, staring into space,” he reaches for your face, pad of his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your cheekbone, and now you’re holding your breath for an entirely different reason. “But that’s all.”

“I… yeah, that’s all.” He sighs. It’s long, and you think about what he’s carrying, the weight of all those little lives and their families too. Is he tired like you? Desperate for a reprieve even though he knows he can’t slip up, not even for a moment? There’s no comparison. In a world of the two of you, your weight is a feather and his is the world. Atlas carrying it all on his shoulders.

And that makes you burn.

His hand falls, and with a metallic chirp, your keys are pressed into your palm. “You should get home.”

“Right.” The acknowledgment sticks in your throat. “Yeah.” He cups your cheek. Cups it. Holds it like a treasure before his touch vanishes completely, leaving you cold. Confused.

“Goodnight Daisy.”

“Goodnight Simon.”

[theglassofmiddleearth]

Imagine Being Isekai'ed into KPOP DEMON HUNTERS. (part 9)

I'M BACK! Sorry I took a break! BUTTT we're nearing the end guys!(i think either one more big chapter or 2 chapters, not TOO sure) BUT DON'T FEAR! I DO HAVE EXTRA SCENES/BLOOPERS THAT WILL ALSO BE WRITTEN! Now, This chapter IMO does feel a little rushed but PLEASE ENJOY IT ANYWAYS. As always, my tag list is full. HAVE A GOOD READ! (Also thinking of covering Free as well XD)

Previous

The days following that were gruelling.

The idol awards were fast approaching and Y/N had spent the week buried in work for What It Sounds Like. Takedown was supposed to be released in two days, during the Idol awards along with What It Sounds Like.

The song required much more work than the other tracks she had previously worked on, from creating MIDI tracks to timing vocals and tuning harmonies. Everything was meshing together, creating a splitting pain in her head.

Just as Huntr/x was busy, the Saja Boys were also busy. Their influence spread faster than the black plague in the thirteenth century. Edits were being made, dance covers and even ships between the boys. (Y/N was blissfully unaware of the fact that there were a plethora of them shipping her with each of the boys, due to her permanent working status.)

The sheer complexity of layering, and the realisation that she didn’t have access to a crowd’s cheers, created a intricacy that Y/N was struggling to recreate.

‘Girls, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can get What It Sounds Like out in time with Takedown.’ Y/N said, pressing her palm against her forehead, feeling a dull ache.

‘That’s okay! We’re already winning so many awards with Golden!’ Rumi said cheerfully, voice crackling through the speaker.

‘I’m so sorry Rumi. Zoey and Mira too, I’m sorry to have let you down.’ Y/N closed her eyes, sitting down at her kitchen counter. She slumped over as the phone on the other end was passed to someone else.

‘No, it’s okay Y/N/N! Please don’t overwork yourself!.’ Zoey’s voice filtered through the noise of the dressing rooms. They had just finished taping another awards show where this time, they had taken a win from the Saja Boys.

‘That’s right Y/N. We care about you more than a performance. Do you need us to do anything? Re-record lines? Get you some food?’ Mira’s tone was calm but laced with an almost undetectable hint of concern. The girls were so sweet, she didn’t know how but, it seemed as if they were closer than before Y/N had transmitigated into this world into this character.

‘I’m alright Mira I promise.’ Y/N laughed, somewhat enjoying the girls fussing over her. ‘You guys did everything perfectly, there's just things I don't think I’ve gotten right so far. I just need a little more time.’

‘Alright, if you say so.’ Mira relented, with a soft breath. ‘But call us if you need anything okay?’

‘You got it Mira!’

The girls had said goodbye in union just as the elevator doors opened, revealing a mildly annoyed group of men.

‘Ugh, did you see the look those hunters gave us when they won?’ Beom grouched, taking off his shoes, placing them neatly on the shelf before running over to collapse on the sofa.

‘Welcome back guys.’ Y/N said, sprawling over her own marble counter top, her voice weak. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to eat or drink that day. It was just that she had completely forgotten due to the immense stress she had placed herself under. Unintentionally, work had come before anything else.

‘Did you work all day again Y/N?’ Jinu asked, his voice was similar to a wife’s soft, scolding tone.

‘Uhh…’ Jinu fumbled, walking over to the kitchen with a red neck.

‘I’m sorry honey, I’ll do better next time.’ Y/N mumbled into the crook of her arm sarcastically.

Jinu’s face flushed a bright red, as four glares found their way to his back.

Suddenly a voice from the television filled the comfortable silence, cutting through the entire apartment.

‘Hey, everybody.’ Rae’s voice began.

‘Our fan club just hit fifty million fans!’ Abel continued before Rae took over again.

‘We have to give a shout out to Huntr/x! We couldn’t have done it without their support.’

‘And to our fans?’ Min interjected, voice low and almost menacing, ‘Thank you, we really feed off your energy.

Y/N frowned, lifted her head as the boys hurriedly switched to another channel.

‘In other news, the amount of missing reports have tripled in the last twenty four hours.’ The news lady said, just before the boys shut off the television hurriedly.

‘What?’ Y/N said, tone eerily calm, eyes narrowing.

‘Um…’ Beom winced, looking at Jinu.

‘Abel. You promised me.’ Y/N said in a flat tone, nails digging into her palms hard. Her eyes were fixated on Abel’s face, painted with shame. His orange-brown eyes refused to meet Y/N’s. Abel could feel the sheer intensity of Y/N’s gaze, burning a hole into his side profile.

‘Darlin’ we aren’t the ones-’

‘I don’t wanna hear it. I’m going out. Don’t follow me.’ Y/N grabbed her keys off the table, pulling on her shoes and storming out of her apartment.

Abel was right, he had promised he would try his best. He also did say he himself wouldn’t take any souls, and in that aspect, she knew that was true. Yet, hearing his explanation wouldn’t make her feel better.

But, here she was, hoping that somehow, she would’ve made a difference. That she somehow had made it better, made a change.

A familiar rumble came from Y/N’s side. Derpy had appeared from a portal again, from the elevator floor.

‘I guess you can come with me.’ Y/N sighed, unable to resist the warm hearted nature of the blue tiger.

Derpy gave a happy grumble. Bumping their head against Y/N’s hand, prompting her to give Derpy it’s head pats as they exited the elevator doors. The sun already had begun to dip below the horizon, strangely enough the awards show was filmed during the day.

‘Y/N…’ A voice called from behind her, wary and soft.

‘What do you want, Rae?’ Y/N stood still, her back still turned to the tallest group member. She had only made it about ten meters away from the complex. Derpy circled Y/N, rubbing its tail along her back reassuringly.

‘You left without a jacket again.’ Rae’s voice was closer now, right behind her in fact. A toasty large jacket being placed over her shoulders. It smelt just like him, a warm, sweet, and elegant scent.

‘I don’t want to talk right now.’

‘Okay.’ Rae fell into step beside her, staying silent as he matched Y/N’s stride.

Y/N walked aimlessly, strolling until she found a park, abandoned for the day in the setting sun.

Derpy trotted happily along, pouncing at pigeons along the way.

Entering the ungated park, she made her way towards a swing set, sitting down on the left side, resting her head in her hands. Between her fingers, she could see the tips of white and yellow sneakers in front of her.

‘Rae…’ Y/N sighed, letting her hands fall limply to her sides.

‘Yes Y/N?’ He whispered back, bending a knee, gently lifting Y/N’s chin slowly.

‘I didn’t change your mind at all did I?’

‘No, of course you did. Y/N you’re so much more important than getting souls back to-’ Rae groaned, pain flashing across his face, stumbling backwards quickly. Derpy looked up from the potted plant it was messing with, eyes blinking unevenly.

‘Rae?!’ Y/N stood quickly in alarm. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, ‘m fine Y/N/N, Gwi-ma just didn’t like what I was feeling.’ Rae gave a weak smile, waving off her worries with a shaky hand.

‘Rae…’ Y/N stepped forward, fingers twitching, aching to check on the wincing man in front of her.

‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’ Rae flashed an unconvincing smile, beautiful nonetheless.

‘Is Gwi-ma still…’ Y/N trailed off, her gaze was wavering, filled with tears. She wasn’t one to cry normally, however today proved to be filled with emotions. Derpy gave an unhappy grumble, walking over to lay it’s large head on Y/N’s lap from the side.

Frustration.

Anger.

Disappointment.

Self-doubt.

All the emotions had reached a boiling point, now bubbling over. The entire situation felt like it was slipping out of her hands, like grains of sand trickling through her grasp. Y/N was sure that she had been placed here to fix things.

But if that were true, why did it feel like nothing was changing? As if she had done nothing to change the contents of the movie? Like nothing she did mattered.

‘Y/N.’ Rae’s hands gently cupped the girl’s face, brushing a cautious thumb over her cheeks bringing the girl out of her spiral. ‘Tell me what you’re thinking.’

‘I just… I wanted to help.’ Y/N whispered, gazing into Rae’s searching, lavender eyes. ‘I thought that somehow I could make it so that you guys could be free.’

A single tear dripped onto Rae’s skin, as he brushed it away with his thumb.

‘Oh sweetheart. You don’t see it do you?’ Rae gently led her by the hand, walking back toward Y/N’s apartment.

Derpy happily followed, remembering the way back home. The tiger disappeared slowly, sinking into a portal. Blinking it’s goodbye, knowing that the two would soon follow.

‘You’ve changed so much. Jinu is cooking, Beom has empathy. Min actually puts up his hair at home and you’ve got Abel, completely wrapped around your finger. None of us have even thought about taking souls ever since meeting you.’

Y/N stared at the back of Rae, as he spoke, watching the way he kept his shoulders more relaxed than they used to be.

'Well, other than yours in the beginning.' Rae gave a quiet laugh.

‘And you?’ Y/N asked, voice almost getting lost in the gentle breeze.

‘Me?’ Rae paused, turning around slowly, Y/N’s wrist still in his hand.

‘You make me believe that there’s hope, that maybe one day, we can be normal again.’ Rae’s eyes flashed gold, his purple patterns glossing over his skin for a moment.

‘Or as normal as a demon can be.’ He smiled ruefully, going to turn back around.

‘Rae listen-’ Y/N reached forward, placing a hand over the man’s hand.

A fluorescence of colours, emitting from her fingertips, dancing across Rae’s skin, turning his patterns a bright white blue for a second before his human visage flashed back into view.

‘What in the world?’ Rae gasped, shakily letting Y/N’s hand go, bringing a hand to cup at his forehead.

His head had been muddled, a polluted sea of shame and resentment. And yet, in an instant, the sea of pollution had been cleared. A rush of clean water, pushing back the murky surroundings, leaving the clearest, pool possible.

‘How am I doing this?’ Y/N blanched, staring at her hands, looking extremely confused.

‘Was this you?’ Rae looked up, his eyes shining with wonder. His hands were shaking as he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I mean… Is this how Beom and Abel managed to be free of Gwi-ma?’

‘I think so. But, I don’t know how I did it? I don’t even control it.’ Y/N frowned, still staring at her splayed palms as if it would reveal all the answers. It hadn’t happened the first time she talked to Rae alone but now, she had changed his patterns. What was the difference?

When she had first touched Abel, all she remembered was feeling concerned for him. Y/N wanted to help him. With Beom, it had been wanting to comfort him. To let him know that mistakes were just that, mistakes. Y/N wanted Beom to see that his talent wasn’t borne from Gwi-ma, but rather, the demon king just helped give Beom a push.

And now Rae?

She wanted Rae to know that normal was subjective. That the norm perceived by society, honestly, wasn’t all that great. That to be who and what he was, was already enough.

Each one of these interactions had been sparked by a strong emotion on Y/N’s end. But was her emotions the only thing that caused this?…

‘Y/N do you know what this means?’ Rae asked, nerves abuzz from adrenaline. ‘This means we wouldn’t have to help Gwi-ma take souls. We could help those hunter things seal the Honmoon! We’d be on this side of the shield, with you.’ Rae was talking a mile a minute still flickering his gaze between Y/N and his own skin.

‘Rae, what if Jinu doesn’t feel that way? What about his memories? I couldn’t ask him to live with reminiscing about the worst parts of his history.’ Y/N shook her head, as her large apartment complex came into view.

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him. But, while she didn’t approve of Jinu’s deal with Gwi-ma. She understood where he came from, people were, after all, inherently selfish by nature.

‘Y/N, that’s for him to decide. Jinu’s…’ Rae hummed, waiting for Y/N to swipe her key card into the door.

‘He’s changed. He’s softer, even. He was the second last to join our group. For four hundred years, he was distant. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile at anyone but us since we found him.’ Rae continued, as the pair moved into the elevator continuing their conversation as the elevator whirred into motion.

‘I don’t know Rae, but I’ll talk to him. Maybe tomorrow tonight, I’ll speak with him alone?’ Y/N leaned back against the elevator handrails. Looking wistfully at the floor.

‘Sounds good to me!’ Rae gave a patient smile, patting Y/N on the shoulder.

As the doors opened, Y/N was met with not only the smell of barbecued beef. She was also met with all four of the Saja Boys who had not followed her out of the apartment. They all spoke together quickly, words crashing over each other.

‘Y/N I’m sorry. I should have tried harder. I didn’t-’ Abel rushed to say.

‘Y/N we can fix this! We’ll think of something!’ Beom said at the same time, rushing through his words. His usual handsome face was panicked, as if thinking Y/N was about to disintegrate and disappear from before his eyes.

'I should have said something. I'm so sorry-' Min got out, his violet hair tied up.

‘Y/N-’ Jinu also said, trying to explain himself, looking equally as desperate as the rest of the men.

‘Is something burning?’ Y/N raised an eyebrow, craning her neck to look into the kitchen.

‘Oh crap.’

Turns out, the boys had been staring out of the windows, trying to spot when Y/N would walk back. Jinu had begun cooking meat on a barbecue plate stove, one he had bought specifically for today. He had seen that Y/N was working hard for the past week and wanted to surprise her with a meal he knew would perk her right up.

Yet, when they saw Y/N and Rae making their way back home. The boys had abandoned the kitchen, to eagerly await their return. Thus, burning the expensive meat slightly.

Or as Jinu wanted to call it, charring.

As the night drew closer, the moon fully resided in the blanket of night. The stars doing their best to shine amidst the twinkling city lights. Dinner had been finished, leaving all six people feeling renewed and content. The boys had done the dishes while Y/N showereed and finished up her nightly routine.

Beom had whined, whilst being dragged away by Min by the back of his collar. They had to practice for their performance and they only had two nights to do it.

Jinu had insisted that the boys practise away from Y/N’s apartment, so that they were able to let Y/N get a full night of sleep.

While it was different, Y/N didn't see any issue with it. It just meant that they finally would go back to their own apartment and Y/N could rest easy, knowing the boys were in their own area.

However, something was amiss.

Due to the way she had been suddenly thrust into a stress and work filled weak, she had neglected to open her prized notebook. The one where the last few pages were missing.

The words and music sheets of Your Idol had been meticulously torn out of the book. As if they had never existed.

In Jinu’s hands, as Y/N tucked herself into bed, after finishing her night routine. Were a set of papers, familiar with Y/N’s hand writing.

–

‘You took the song from Y/N?’ Min frowned, his hair was still tied up with one of Y/N’s elastics. His perfectly arched brows drawn together in a pinch.

‘Well I took it after we did Soda Pop. But, now I want to use it to surprise her! We can deal with the background music ourselves.’ Jinu explained, looking down, sighing noticing the hesitant look in his friends eyes.

‘In the beginning, I took it because I wanted a guarantee that we would get a good song. But now, I want the world to see how great Y/N’s song writing is! I mean just look at the lyrics. They match us perfectly!’ Jinu’s voice and eyes were void of lies. It was true, he had no ill intentions in his actions.

‘Hm, we’d better explain to her right after the show then. Otherwise it may seem misguided. However, I am for the idea of surprising Y/N by performing her song.’ Abel nodded along, his knuckles propping up his chin.

‘I agree, as long as we specify in the beginning of the performance. Maybe we can make a quick announcement.’ Beom looked thoughtful, staring into the apartment across from their own.

Although he couldn’t see Y/N’s room from here, he could see the jumper he had left there, along with random items the other boys had left there. Y/N’s penthouse had become their home, more than their own apartment. Long had it been, since they spent more than ten minutes in the apartment they had bought. (With fake conjoured cash.)

‘Maybe we can say something along the lines of, “To our song writer and producer, we’d like to dedicate this performance to you. You’ve made us who we are.” Something like that?’ Min suggested, tilting his head, his chin between his thumb and index finger.

‘Yeah, that sounds good.’ Rae nodded, standing up to walk over to Jinu. ‘So, you gonna handle the music?’

‘Ah hah. I may have already finished it…’ Jinu rubbed a hand over his neck nervously, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘She really inspired me.’

‘You and us all.’ Min smiled, ruffling Jinu’s hair. ‘I’m glad you’re finally letting yourself express how you actually feel about Y/N.’

‘Hey… She’s a great friend!’ He whined, protesting against Min’s teasing tone.

‘Yeah right, friend.’ Beom snickered, rolling his eyes.

‘Uh huh?’ Jinu slowly advanced on Beom with raised hands and a playful smirk.

‘No, NO NOT AGAIN. Abel HELP ME.’ Beom screamed, running for his life.

‘Oh, Beomie!’ Jinu called out, racing after the youngest boy his eyes glowing a devious yellow.

‘Can’t help you there. I’m working with Rae to choreograph this number.’ Abel chuckled, listening to the music Jinu had provided on his phone.

‘NOO I’m SORRY I WON’T DO IT AGAIN.’ Beom screeched, flailing his arms as Jinu pounced on the younger man, wrapping his limbs around Beom in familiar stance.

‘Yeah? You gonna tease me again?’ Jinu held Beom’s waist with his legs, his hand tugging on Beom’s ear just enough for it to be uncomfortable.

‘NOOOOO I won’t.’ Beom wailed, writhing.

‘I don’t believe you.’ Jinu laughed, letting Beom go nonetheless, watching the man scramble away to his freedom.

‘JUST ADMIT YOU LIKE HER TOO.’ Beom yelled, escaping to go learn the choreo with Abel and Rae.

‘We’ve shared before. Wouldn’t be anything new.’ Min smirked, looking down at Jinu, extending his hand.

‘Don’t say weird things like that.’ Jinu flushed, grabbing Min’s hand to pull himself up.

‘Oh, you can give orders now?’ He raised an eyebrow, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘Don’t forget who's the oldest Jinu.’

‘W- whatever.’ Jinu’s entire face was bright red, steam practically pouring out of his ears. ‘Let’s go practice.’

Min snickered as Jinu walked back to the rest of the group, enjoying the reaction he had received from the younger man.

‘Y/N/N has no idea what’s coming for her does she?’ Min followed Jinu, as the group began to prepare for their stage against Huntr/x. Hopefully Y/N could deal with five demons men who were finding their way into her heart, slowly but very much surely.

--

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[sereia4skz]

hey i was wondering if you could do a fluff smut story where f!reader is brushing jeongins tails and brushes a particularly very sensitive tail where jeongin gets off to the feeling and crys a bit from overstim ? :3

-🐹☁️

2k Followers Event | silken tails

pairing: jeongin x reader

synopsis: taking care of jeongin's tails is always a fun time

warnings: kitsune!jeongin, smut, overstim, crying

event masterlist: #2kShootingStars

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

AN: now this was sooooooo fun to work on.

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

You don’t know how it became routine, maybe the third or fourth time Jeongin curled up outside the greenhouse with bramble thorns in his fur, or when he first sighed and melted beneath your brush like butter on stone. Either way, it’s yours now.

Tail-brushing duty.

Jeongin sits on a mossy cushion in the sunlit clearing behind the sanctuary’s herb garden, surrounded by drifting flower petals and the soft scent of lemon balm. Seven pale tails fan out behind him like silk banners, twitching restlessly. He’s in his half-shifted form today: mostly human, though his ears and tails remain stubbornly fox, a telltale shimmer in his eyes betraying his illusion magic at the edge of breaking.

You kneel behind him with your favorite wide-tooth comb and a jar of balm. “Don’t wriggle.”

“I’m not wriggling,” he says, immediately wriggling.

“Mmhm.”

You press your palm to the base of his nearest tail to anchor it, and Jeongin shudders. Just the lightest brush makes his ears flick back like they’re trying to hide.

"You know you asked for this," you remind him, voice honey-smooth as the comb starts its first long stroke through snowy fur. "You were shedding everywhere. Even in the sheets."

“You said I could sleep at the foot of your bed-”

“Not in my pillows.”

Jeongin makes a little chuff of protest, but goes quiet when you hit a knot. You work it gently with your fingers, massaging balm into the tangled patch before combing through again. The soft, methodical rhythm lulls him until he exhales slow and heavy, like he’s melting right into your lap.

But you notice the twitch in his fingers. The little tremble in his thigh. The almost imperceptible way his breath hitches when you comb a little too close to the base.

You pretend not to.

“You’re quiet,” you murmur, lips close enough to his ear that the tip turns scarlet.

He shrugs, stiffly. “Just… feels nice.”

“Just nice?” You lean forward to smooth your palm over the second tail, then the third. “You’re shivering.”

“‘M not.”

But he is. You catch the way his hips shift almost unconsciously, like he’s trying not to press down against the mossy earth. Poor thing doesn’t know what to do with himself. His illusions flicker again, briefly casting a shimmer of foxfire that curls harmlessly between your ankles.

You smile to yourself.

“I think I’ll brush this one next,” you say, fingers hovering above the one tail he never lets you touch.

The seventh. The most sensitive.

“No wait-”

But it’s too late. Your fingers slide through the downy fur, barely grazing the base where nerves are coiled tight as wire. The reaction is instantaneous, Jeongin chokes on a gasp and his whole body jerks forward, caught between shock and pleasure.

His ears flatten. A helpless, whimpery noise escapes him.

“Ohhh,” you breathe. “There it is.”

“D-Don’t,” he whispers, voice gone high and breathless.

But you keep brushing. Gentle strokes, slow and precise, dragging the comb from base to tip while your free hand steadies him with firm pressure on his lower back. Jeongin’s breathing shatters. His hips grind forward before he can stop himself.

Your thighs ache with the effort of staying still, of pretending your own core isn’t throbbing just from watching him unravel.

“Sensitive boy,” you tease. “You like this too much.”

His tails twitch violently. “It’s- hnn, n-not meant to feel-”

“Shhh.” You stroke again, and this time he moans, full-bodied and desperate, burying his face in his arm as if that could hide the way his cock is pressing hard into the moss beneath him.

You drop the brush and replace it with your hand, raking your fingers through the seventh tail until he’s trembling under you, little foxfire sparks licking at the air around him.

“Gonna cum like this?” you murmur against his ear. “Just from me brushing your tail?”

Jeongin lets out a sob. “C-Can't- please, I- please?! feels so g-good,”

You keep going. He writhes, thighs spread wider now, hips twitching helplessly against nothing, and his cock gives a needy pulse you can feel even through his clothes. You slip your hand between his legs and palm him through the fabric, just once.

That’s all it takes. He shatters, crying out as he cums hard in his pants, tears slipping down his cheeks from how intense it hits. His tails flare and go limp all at once, flickering dim foxfire curling around your ankles.

You keep your fingers brushing that sensitive tail with deliberate slowness, soft strokes barely grazing the tip, like the teasing whisper of a breeze over a raw wound. Jeongin’s breath shudders sharply, ragged and uneven, a helpless whimper caught in his throat. His hips jerk instinctively, desperate for relief, but you press a firm palm into the small of his back, holding him still.

His ears flatten fully now, the delicate tips slick with tears, flushed deeper than the pale pink fur along his cheeks. You trace your fingertips up the length of his tail, every tiny nerve ending singing under your touch, and he whines, a low, broken sound between pleasure and pain.

“T-Too much…” he gasps, voice trembling like a fragile leaf caught in a storm.

But you smile, heart swelling at how completely undone he is, how vulnerable and open, yet still so eager to please.

“Not done yet,” you whisper, voice thick and warm, leaning close enough that your breath fans over his temple. “You wanted this, remember?”

Jeongin tries to steady his breathing, but his body betrays him. His thighs quiver, shaking beneath your hands, slick heat pooling between his legs despite the slick mess he’s already made. He curls his fingers into the moss, digging sharp little claws into the earth as you flick your fingers in slow, teasing strokes along the base of his tail again.

His skin flushes a darker rose, spreading from his neck down to the tips of his toes. His tails twitch and wrap around your wrist, holding you captive with silent, desperate pleading.

Tears spill over freely now, blurring the edges of his vision as sobs shake his slender frame. You brush them away with the gentlest touch, fingertips lingering on his temple.

“Look at me,” you say softly.

He blinks up at you with swollen, glistening eyes, lips trembling.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re like this.”

You curve your hand around the base of his tail, stroking more firmly now, circles, light pinches with your nails, running your palm over the soft fur like you’re memorizing every inch.

Jeongin gasps again, body arching toward your hand despite himself, a string of desperate sounds spilling from him, too raw to be words. His breathing falters, chest rising and falling erratically, hips twitching with no control.

You’re not cruel, just merciless with your teasing.

Your fingers slow, dragging over the tip of his tail until it quivers, the fine hairs standing on end. His entire body shudders violently, wet tears leaking from his eyes, lips parting in a silent cry that breaks your heart and ignites your desire all at once.

His cock throbs hot against your thigh, still leaking from his climax but already aching for more, and you press a kiss to his temple, warm and steady.

“Almost there, love,” you murmur.

The final strokes come soft and slow, deliberate, enough to keep him on the edge, but never letting him fall again. He trembles beneath you, a mess of flushed skin and quivering limbs, every nerve ending alive and burning. Jeongin’s sobs quiet into helpless whimpers, and you catch his chin gently, guiding his gaze to meet yours.

“Good boy,” you whisper.

His lips quiver into a shaky smile, eyes bright and glazed with tears, the foxfire flickering softly around his tails like a halo.

You slide your fingers into his hair, threading through the soft, dark strands as you press your forehead to his.

“Come on,” you say, voice low and soothing. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He leans into you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the world, and you hold him close, fingers still lightly stroking those sensitive, cursed tails.

You press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Sweet thing,” you whisper, “you’re too easy.”

He breathes out a ruined laugh, hands fisting in your lap. “Y-You did that on purpose.”

“Obviously.”

“Mean,” he sniffles.

“I’ll wash your pants for you.”

“...That doesn’t help.”

But he nuzzles closer anyway.

━━━━━━━━━━━━⋆｡°✩

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[hy6erion]

Pleaseee write for Sevika or Caitlyn x virgin reader who finishes stupidly fast and gets all embarrassed about it!!!

quick finish — sevika, caitlyn, vi x reader (seperate)

synopsis: you’re a virgin—but not innocent. you wanted this. dreamt of being split open and used for the first time by women who know exactly what they’re doing. but you didn’t expect your body to give out so fast

cw: fem! reader, explicit, strap, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), virgin! reader

Sevika .𖥔 ݁ ˖

You’re already shaking when she finally pushes in—slow, cruel, deliberate.

“Fuck, baby. Tight little thing, aren’t you?” she growls against your ear, the heat of her breath dragging down your spine like oil.

You gasp like you’ve never breathed before, clutching her biceps with both hands, nails digging into the coarse leather of her harness. The stretch burns so good—your pussy sucking at the silicone like it knows it’s not enough, like it’s begging for more anyway. She’s big. Thick. It drags against your inner walls like she’s carving space that no one else has ever touched.

“You feel that?” she grunts, voice deep and low, pushing deeper until her hips grind against your ass, snug to the base.

You nod too fast, too frantically, lips parted in a soft sob. Your legs are trembling already, and she’s barely moving.

She pulls back—slow—and thrusts in with a sharp snap that slaps skin to skin.

Your body bucks.

“Shit” you choke out, “Sevika—!”

“Not even a full stroke and you’re already clenching up like that? Fuckin’ virgin pussy,” she laughs, low and thick with pride. She’s loving this. Loving how ruined you are already.

Another thrust. Another deep, gliding shove that nudges against your sweet spot like she’s memorized it. Your whole body goes hot—your thighs twitch, your breath stutters and the sound you make is a sob that’s half embarrassment, half oh fuck I’m gonna come.

“Don’t you dare” she smirks, “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it yet.”

But it’s already too late.

You cry out and your cunt clamps down —pulsing around her strap like it’s a lifeline, like you’re begging it not to leave. It hits too fast, too sharp, rolling through you like thunder that you never saw coming. You shake. Hips jerk. Your orgasm crashes through you with heat and humiliation.

“…Shit” Sevika says, pausing mid-thrust, still buried inside you. “You already came, didn’t you?”

You nod, flushed to your ears, lips trembling.

She laughs. Deep. Cruel. So fucking turned on.

“You’re fuckin’ adorable” she purrs, dragging out slow, wet strokes just to make you twitch again. “But we’re just getting started. Hope that pretty pussy can take another round without cryin’.”

Caitlyn .𖥔 ݁ ˖

You’re spread out on Caitlyn’s silk sheets, thighs trembling where she holds them apart, lips parted in a breathless whimper. She’s between your legs, fully clothed, not even breaking a sweat as she dips her tongue lower—lower—before finally tasting your virgin cunt for the first time.

You’re embarrassingly wet.

“Oh…” you whisper, voice cracking as her mouth finds your clit and she hums like it’s vintage wine.

“Mmm. You taste divine“ she says softly, elegant voice turning filthy, tongue curling up to press against the delicate bundle of nerves. Her fingers tease your entrance—not pushing in yet, just circling, making you ache for something to fill you.

You whine. Pathetic. “Please, Caitlyn—”

“Shh, let me” she breathes, slipping one slender finger in—then a second—and you arch instantly, tight heat wrapping around her knuckles like a fist. Her tongue works slow, precise circles on your clit, her fingers curling just right—

“Oh, f-fuck—!”

Your hips jerk off the bed. Your cunt clamps around her fingers, dripping, pulsing, already fluttering with release as your first orgasm hits you in a sharp, humiliated rush. You’re not even sure how long it lasted. A second? Two? Everything clenched and snapped all at once—wet, twitchy, overwhelmed.

Caitlyn stills, then she chuckles softly—low, amused, gentle.

“Oh, my sweet thing” she says, brushing your thigh with her gloved hand, licking her lips. “Already? We just started.”

You’re mortified. Cheeks burning. “I—I didn’t mean to…”

“I know“ she purrs, fingers still deep inside, teasing you with little strokes that make you squirm. “But now you’re even more sensitive. I can make you come again. Slower this time. Or not.”

She kisses your inner thigh—warm, possessive.

“Depends how much begging you want to do.”

Vi .𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Relax for me, sweetheart” Vi murmurs, voice low and wicked, fingers already deep between your legs, two knuckles in, wrist flexed just right. She’s got her face close to yours, pink undercut tickling your cheek, free hand holding your thigh open with that unyielding grip of hers—firm, warm, commanding.

She watches your face the whole time.

“Damn, you’re fuckin’ tight,” she breathes, cocky and a little in awe, like she’s never felt anything like this before. “Never been fucked, huh? Not even once?”

You shake your head. Can’t speak. Mouth open, panting.

Vi smirks. “Figures. This pussy’s starving.”

She grinds her fingers deeper, curling them just right, and your body jerks—hips lifting off the mattress without permission. You can feel yourself fluttering already, the slippery pull of her knuckles moving inside you, the palm of her hand snug against your mound, warm and heavy and filthy.

“You hear that?” she whispers by your ear, pumping just a little faster now, wrist rocking so every wet, needy squelch between your thighs echoes in the room. “Barely touched you and you’re about to lose it already, huh?”

“I—fuck—I can’t—Vi—!”

Your voice breaks. Your body shatters. A sob leaves your throat, helpless and high and soaked in shame because you’re coming. Just like that. You clamp down on her fingers, clit pulsing against her palm, your whole body twitching as that fast, sharp orgasm rips through you like a fuse just lit.

Vi blinks. Still inside you. Then her grin splits wide, eyes gleaming.

“…No fucking way,” she laughs, voice dripping pride and sin. “You came already? From that?”

You hide your face in your arm, humiliated, breathing all messy and hitched.

“Aw, don’t go shy on me now, baby.” She pulls back just enough to watch your pussy spasm around her fingers, coated in slick. “Shit, that’s hot. You’re cute as fuck when you get all shaky like that.”

Her mouth presses against your ear again, breath hot.

“Now be good and spread those legs again,” she murmurs. “’Cause that was cute, but I’m not done with you.”

She pulls her fingers out slow—so slow—dragging every wet inch through your tightness, and you flinch, overstimulated already. But she just smirks, licking them clean, one finger at a time.

[gojodickbig]

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!

imagine sukuna and gojo fucking you at the same time.

imagine sukuna behind you, gojo underneath you, both of them deep inside, stretching you wide and filling you to the brim. their hands all over you, their voices in your ear, and no way to tell who’s making you moan louder.

you’re straddling gojo, his cock already buried inside your pussy — deep, slow thrusts as he fucks up into you with a soft, breathless groan. one hand on your hip, the other cupping your tit, thumb rolling your nipple, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

“you’re perfect like this, baby,” gojo murmurs , lips brushing your jaw. “stuffed so full… so fucking tight…”

behind you, sukuna’s already spit-slick and hard, rubbing his cock between your cheeks, letting it drag over your rim again and again, teasing just to make you squirm.

“you sure about this, princess?” he mutters, voice thick with lust. “gonna take both of us like a good little slut?”

you nod, dizzy with need. “y-yeah… i want it. please—”

“shit,” he growls, gripping your hips. “you’re so fuckin’ filthy.”

his tip presses against your ass, slow and heavy, and your breath hitches when he starts to push in.

gojo holds you steady, fingers stroking along your waist. “breathe, sweetheart. relax for him.”

you cling to gojo’s shoulders, jaw slack as sukuna stretches you open inch by inch. the stretch burning in the most obscene way — and it feels so fucking good.

your hands clutch gojo’s shoulders even more tighter now, mouth falling open. “s—s’kuna! oh my god—s—so full—!”

“fucking hell,” gojo groans, voice guttural and half-broken as his head tips back, “i can feel him inside you.”

his grip tightens on your hips, cock twitching inside your pussy from the pressure. “shit, he’s pressing right up against me—fuck—you’re so tight, i swear to god.”

sukuna lets out a ragged breath, starting to thrust into your ass with slow, deep strokes. “you like that, princess?” he snarls, leaning over you, lips brushing your ear. “tight fuckin’ hole squeezin’ me like you don’t wanna let go—squeezin’ the fuck outta me.”

“mmnh—too much—” you gasp, back arching as your body takes both of them, stretched to the edge, full in every way. “feels… s-so much…”

“nah,” he grunts, pressing in deeper. “you got it. takin’ it so well.”

you bury your face in gojo’s neck, panting, overwhelmed. “i feel so full—can’t move—fuck—“

“you don’t gotta move,” gojo murmurs, voice soft. “we’ll do everything for you.”

once sukuna bottoms out, both of them still for a second — letting you breathe, tremble, get used to the pressure of being so completely filled.

then sukuna pulls back, hips dragging slow, and thrusts back in with a low growl.

you cry out, eyes rolling, your entire body jolting forward into gojo’s chest. “oh my god—”

“fuckin’ hell,” sukuna groans. “you feel that? feel us both inside you? you’re stuffed like a fuckin’ toy. takin’ both our cocks like a good little slut.”

“mhm—fuck—it’s too much—i can’t—”

gojo kisses your temple, voice low and thick with need. “yes you can. you’re taking it, baby. doing so good.”

they fall into a rhythm — sukuna thrusting in as gojo pulls out, fucking you in perfect tandem, making your body rock between them.

“she’s fuckin’ made for this,” sukuna snarls, smacking your ass hard before gripping it tight again. “look at her. takin’ two cocks like it’s the only thing she was born to do.”

gojo groans beneath you, jaw tight as his cock slides back into your soaked pussy. “so warm… so wet… it’s like you don’t even wanna let us go.”

you’re drooling, moaning, nails digging into gojo’s arms. “i—I’m gonna—fuck—feels s-so good—so fucking full—!”

your voice cracks when sukuna snaps his hips harder, cock slamming into your ass and forcing you to drop even lower onto gojo’s length.

“you like that, baby?” gojo whispers, thumb brushing your cheek. “you want us to break you?”

“mmhm—d-don’t stop—please don’t stop—”

“don’t fuckin’ worry about that,” sukuna leans forward, mouth hot and rough on your shoulder. “we ain’t goin’ nowhere till we’ve filled every hole you got.”

your body tightens, the pressure coiling low and heavy — too much, too good, your pussy clenching around gojo’s cock while sukuna pounds into your ass with filthy groans.

“fuck—gonna cum—” you gasp, voice wrecked. “i’m gonna—gonna cum—”

“cum for us, baby,” gojo whispers. “wanna feel you milkin’ my cock while he fucks your ass.”

sukuna grips your waist tighter, his thrusts going sloppy. “do it, slut. let go. wanna feel you pulse all over me.”

and you do — loud, shaking, body seizing as your orgasm crashes through you, wrung out and soaked, your walls clenching down so hard gojo groans and grabs your hips.

“shit—i’m gonna—”

he cums deep, cock twitching inside you, thick and hot. you feel him fill you, hips jerking, panting into your neck.

sukuna’s right behind him, growling deep in his chest. “fuckin’ hell—take it—take every drop—”

he slams into your ass once, twice more, then groans rough and low, spilling inside you, heat flooding deep.

they both stay there, holding you between them — cock-drunk, trembling, full in every sense of the word.

“fuck,” sukuna breathes, hands stroking your sides now. “you’re a fuckin’ dream.”

gojo grins at sukuna. “yeah. and we haven’t even started yet.”

© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.

[mononijikayu]

the first time you tasted alcohol was with geto suguru. both of you were seventeen. both of you had just gotten home from a miserable mission. it was something of a thing, you breaking into the boys dormitory on the other side of the campus without yaga's cursed puppets seeing you.

but you couldn't let the moment pass. your brother had sent you this lovely little gift. and it would be quite a sin to not share it with others. not when these are the last moments of your experience as an seventeen year old. and suguru, at the very least, has drank rice wine before.

"i can't believe you're abetting to the distribution of alcohol to a minor." suguru teased as he looked at the cup of rice wine.

"oh shut up." you rolled your eyes at him. "you really shouldn't be a goody two shoes about this. you hid from your mom that you drank before."

"well the less my mother knows, the less i get in trouble. more i become my mother's lovely son!" he cheered as he downed the drink.

"hmm, but not in yaga's eyes."

"you're acting like you won't be in trouble either." he raises a brow.

you laughed at him, holding your own glass of rice wine. "well, if i go down, you go down with me. its a win for me!"

he watches you down the wine, having quite a cute reaction as you sigh. you called the wine too sweet for your liking. but suguru's glad your brother had the due diligence not to send a strong one.

"hey, [name]?"

"hm?" you wordlessly hummed as you poured yourself and suguru another cup.

"if we make it to thirty and we aren't married, would you consider marrying me or satoru?"

you nearly fumble the bottle to the ground but miraculously caught it. you sighed, feeling flustered as you looked at him.

"w-where did you even find the thought to ask that, 'guru?"

".....i don't know, just curious." he mumbled absentmindedly as he looked at his glass. "i mean, would you not?"

"i-its not that i won't! just.....i can't think all the sudden!" you pout at him. "its all your fault, 'guru."

he laughs at your words in a way that was genuine and soft, real. the kind that tugs a little at your chest. the kind that makes your seventeen-year-old heart flutter even if you pretend it doesn’t. he looks at you with a fondness he usually hides under teasing remarks and too-easy smirks.

“you’re cute when you’re flustered you know that.” suguru says, and this time, you nearly spill the wine.

“shut up.” you hiss, cheeks hot.

“see? cute.”

“i swear to god i’m going to throw this bottle at your head.”

“not before we finish it.”

you end up sharing the rest of it cross-legged on his bed, backs pressed against the wall, speaking about the future like it’s something promised. the years ahead look like open roads.

all full of maybe’s and one day’s, and cities you’ve never seen. suguru talks about opening a school that doesn’t treat sorcerers like tools. you talk about maybe writing one day. stories that don’t end in tragedy.

you fall asleep leaning against each other, all those glasses still in hand. that night, you dream of nothing but peace. and that peace, being held in the hands of someone as warm, as loving and as kind as geto suguru.

the second time you tasted alcohol with suguru, you were twenty-two.

he found you in a crumbling temple outside miyazaki. you’d been waiting. someone had tipped you off he might pass through, and you knew him well enough to guess where he’d go. it was the place he once mentioned in passing to you.

"a quiet spot, real peaceful. used to go there with my mom when i was a kid." he has said with a fond smile. he always did that at the mention of his mother. "i liked it there a lot."

you should’ve reported it back to headquarters. but you didn’t. you couldn't. not when a part of you still longs for him. he came at sundown. slow steps. purple eyes like smoke, shoulders heavy with the weight of something irreversible.

you met his purple gaze. for a moment, you could feel your heart in your throat. you didn’t ask why he was here. you already knew what he had done. and what he had come here to do.

"hi." he said simply.

you nodded, voice failing you when it mattered most. your hands shook as you pulled the bottle of rice wine from your bag. the same kind from your youth. unopened. untouched. you had just bought it, at the street market. he stared at it.

“you remembered. how nice.” he murmured.

you handed it to him. he sat beside you, just like before. the silence between you was older now. sadder. everything felt suspended in the amber of memory. he uncorked the bottle. poured two swigs in those paper cups. he gently handed one to you.

"to our pact." he said with a bitter smile.

you didn't say anything as you drank your drink. the rice wine you drank years ago was sweet. it was smooth as it went down. but this one, this was too bitter. too damn aching as it flowed down. but you didn't want to say anything.

"i don't think we'll make it to thirty."

you toasted your paper cups anyway. "is that so?"

"hmm, i know so." he drank. so did you.

"mind reader, aren't you?"

he doesn't say much after that. instead, he looks onto the city as the lights started to flicker on one by one. and you didn't bother to say anything either. not that you could when the bitter feeling of alcohol remained as bitter as the thought of not having him by your side anymore.

“why?” you asked quietly, not looking at him. “why them, suguru?”

he exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the cup. “because if i didn’t, someone else would have. because no one would’ve saved them. because this world doesn’t let us live unless we become monsters.”

“so you became one.” you whispered.

he didn’t deny it. not one sound, not one word. yet he didn't need to say anything. his actions were all too much of a proof. they were enough. you gulped. the wine was too sweet. your chest ached.

“you know, i still see you sometimes.” he said, voice cracking. “in dreams. laughing. stealing wine. you were always braver than me.”

you looked at him now, really looked. not at the curse user. not at the murderer. not even at the traitor. you looked at the boy who once leaned against you and asked if you’d marry him someday.

“i would’ve said yes.” you said.

he froze at your words. “you asked, remember? if i’d marry you or satoru if we were thirty and alone. i would’ve chosen you. always you.”

geto suguru closed his already weary purple eyes. weary from all the crying. a long silence passed. the cicadas outside the temple cried like grief. his paper cup lay abandoned beside your own.

“i’m sorry." he said, and you believed him. it didn’t fix anything. but you did believe him.

“you should go now.” you said.

he nodded back at you, soundlessly.

he left the bottle behind.

and you never saw him again.

the third time you tasted rice wine, you were twenty-nine.

it was on your lips as you knelt at family his shrine. satoru saif there wasn't any body left to be had. but he was kind enough to leave a memorial. something to mourn. at the very least. it was what you deserved.

you weren't in jujutsu society anymore and yet you truly felt that this was another life which had been taken from you by that life all over again. even now when life has gone on, this was tragedy lived over and over again.

it was summer once more, though it will never be like those nights you had with him ever again. everything no was too hot and too heavy with memory. memories you didn't yearn to remember.

you poured two cups.

drank yours.

left his untouched.

and you didn’t cry until night fell.

it was your final hours as a twenty-nine year old.

soon enough you would be thirty.

and there will never be a wedding.

[kiraplex]

Hii! Could i request all variants x gn!reader sfw headcanons, where they realize reader already have a different partner in the main universe?

Mark Variants x gn!reader with a partner in their universe

includes: Sinister, Viltrumite, Mohawk, Prisoner, Full mask / Phantom, Omni Mark, Shiesty, No goggles / Lenseless, Target / emperor. W/C: 2,204 words A/N: sorry this took a long time !! To be honest I was kind of feeling down about how few notes my other post got.. nevertheless, this was fun to write, and I hope it gets some attention ^-^ Tw’s: Canon typical violence, stalking, manipulation, kidnapping, the marks being the marks tbh

★ Sinister Mark

no. lol 

“Awww, you think I care about that? That’s cute”

I don’t even think he’d be hurt like some of the other marks would be, he knew it was a possibility. And he’d already planned how to take care of it.

Before you even get the chance to respond to his earlier comment he flies off, fast - faster than the mark from your universe, even - and finds your partner, returning with them almost immediately, dangling by the neck. Maybe he dangles them out of a window, or off a roof, or maybe he just holds them in the air where he is, grip on their neck so tight it leaves bruises. Either way! It’s clear he means business.

“I’ll cut you a break. you agree to date me, I’ll let them live!”

If you keep resisting and refusing, well, I’m sure you can guess what happens. Despite all your desperate please and thrown insults your partners blood is now splattered across the street where mark dropped them.

He picks you up, and flies you somewhere remote. You’re dating him now! 

And if you relent? Beg for your partners life? He kills them anyway. And enjoys it too, licking the blood off his hands when done. He tried to be reasonable, really. But what business does this person have being loved so dearly by you? That role should be reserved for him!

He knows you’ll thank him eventually.

He’ll treat you well. At least, well by his standards.

★ Viltrumite Mark

hm. This wasn’t expected.

He doesn’t react much externally when you tell him you’re taken, but internally his mind is whirring. Another partner? Earth courting customs are so complicated, he really doesn’t understand.. can’t you see that he’s better than that human? 

On viltrum mates are picked through strength and genetic compatibility. If there are multiple Viltrumites fighting for the right to breed with one person, that’s just what they do. They fight for it. And being Viltrumites, they don’t just fight until one surrenders of course. As was drilled into him since childhood, people who die deserved to die anyway, they were weak. 

So he decides that he will fight for the right to you. He doesn’t just want to breed you of course - his devotion to you was made of much more substance than the typical relationship on viltrum, but it still stands.

And of course, he is much, MUCH stronger than whichever human you have chosen as your mate.

Whether they agree to fight him or not, soon they’re out of the way. He’s proven that he’s a superior mate.

So why do you still not want to date him? Maybe his father was right, humans are so complicated..

He’ll take you back to Viltrum with him, he’s sure you’ll adjust. He’ll treat you very well, and his mother will be glad to have another of her kind.

★ Mohawk Mark

this asshole would be such a dick about it.

You tell him you’re taken the first time and it doesn’t even seem to register with him.

“Great. Dinner at 7? I’ll pick you up”

What?? No, you reiterate once again that you have a boyfriend.

“I heard you the first time, dollface. See you at 7”

He smirks a shit eating from at you and flies off to god knows where, leaving you back where you were. And sure enough, at 7 he returns, landing on your front lawn and knocking on your windows.

He’s still wearing his suit, but it was stained with distinct dark red splotches, especially on the arms and gloves. You have a sinking feeling that you know whose blood it is.. 

Mohawk just stands there until it clicks with you and you react, grinning smug and wide at you, tilting his head.

“Aww, you look like a kicked puppy. What’s wrong?”

He grabs your wrist tight, pulling you closer to him. He leans down to your hight, grinning even wider. His breath smells of the distinct coppery scent of blood, which makes sense. You’re sure some of the blood on his gloves rubs off on you when he grabs you.

“So, how about that date?” 

★ prisoner mark: 

Fucking seriously? Just his luck 

He spends thirteen months in a viltrumite prison, getting tortured until he looked like THAT, and the one person he thought of the whole time doesn’t even want him. Awesome. Of course.

Honestly I think deep down prisoner is self conscious, especially comparing himself to the other marks (he misses being handsome), or just any handsome person, so he’d be probably one of the most upset out of the marks. He doesn’t tell you, but somewhere he wonders if it’s because of his hideous appearance. Maybe if it were Mohawk, or sinister..

He doesn’t let himself dwell on it too long, drawing himself up to full hight, crossing his arms across his chest, showing off his frame - bulkier than the rest of the Marks.

He promises he’ll treat you well.

I don’t think this mark is as blood thirsty as the rest,  he’s had more than his fill of blood and torture (most of it being done to him) so the best possible scenario he can imagine is the two of you in a nice cosy apartment away from the viltrumite empire, and everything else that could possibly hurt you. 

He doesn’t beg, or yell, or threaten, he just stands there and tells you how it is. He’s going to take you home, and you’re going to have a nice peaceful life together.

And he does just that.

★ Phantom / full mask mark 

He has the most “reasonable” first reaction.

Oh. He tells you he understands, but he just misses you so much. He only came to this universe for you and his mother. He really, really missed you. He doesn’t mean to guilt trip you but he’s just so sad. 

From then on he follows you around like a lost puppy.

Turns up at your door with flowers and refuses to answer how he knows your address. But look, flowers and chocolate! And he got your favourite kind too, he remembers what you liked in his universe. Please just give him a chance. 

It doesn’t matter if you reject him politely or slam the door on his face, the outcome is still the same.

He’s everywhere. Seriously, doesn’t this guy have better shit to do? (No.)

When you go out for groceries, when you go to collage or work, in the park when you take a walk. He’s not.. hurting you per se, he’s just everywhere that you are. He just wants to look at you! He just wants to be near you. Is that a crime? 

And eventually, weeks after you first meet him, it happens.

A car accident. Your partner died in a car accident. Their family gets you the news.

You’re sure it was him. This version of mark. Who else could it be?

But when he turns up to your apartment again, giving you the same lost puppy look, somehow you just can’t find it in yourself to tell him to fuck off.

And as you cry in his arms and he plays with your hair, pulling his mask up to kiss you on the forehead, he’s the happiest he’s been in a long long time. 

★ Omni mark 

very straightforward about it.

He was aware this was a possibility. He understands, you’re attractive and it’s only natural that people would like to get involved with you romantically. 

Still, there’s an almost imperceptible break in his calm demeanor as his jaw clenches at the thought of you being affectionate towards somebody who wasn’t him.

He simply can’t let that happen.

He tells you straight up, hovering half a foot above the ground, arms crossed across his broad chest. Looking down at you with a blank expression.

“Not anymore.”

He explains it to you in no uncertain terms - you’re his one attachment, his one weakness, the one metaphorical chink in his armour. He’s a viltrumite conqueror, he wasn’t supposed to have attachments like this, he’s violating his own code to come and tell you all this. 

He just loves you that much.

And he can’t afford to have any weaknesses he can’t control. So either you agree to be his betrothed, or he kills you, simple as that. He’s sorry it has to come to this, but at least he gave you a choice.

It’s your choice what to do next. But if you don’t agree to date him, he gives you the mercy of a quick death. He even looks away when doing it, uncomfortable with seeing the actions he’s doing to his beloved.

★ Shiesty Mark

“what?! Fuck that!”

Second most angry Mark at the realisation you’re dating someone else.

Seriously? You’re rejecting him for some jagoff who can’t even fly? What the hell! No way he can stand for this. Are you stupid or what? 

If it weren’t for the shiesty covering his you’d see his eye twitch and how he was 

I don’t even think he’d give you the option or tell you before he killed the bitch you were dating. He’d just go for the kill immediately and plaster their brains all over the sidewalk. Your poor partner probably didn’t even see anything more than a blur of blue and yellow before it all ends.

Doesn’t feel guilty for it at ALL he’s still mad tbh

“Are you kidding? You’re upset? Fuck that guy! He’s not even a fraction of how great I am!”

Just like all the other marks, he picks you up and takes you with him whether you like it or not - he wants to take you back to his universe after all.

Despite his brash exterior I think he’s quite gentle (as gentle as someone like him can be) when he carries you. Despite your thrashing, he makes an effort not to break any of your bones or even bruise you too much, it makes him feel bad. He does love you after all. He thinks you should be grateful for this.

★ No goggles / Lenseless Mark

acts like it’s the funniest joke he’s ever heard. He’s floating a few feet above you in the air, clutching his sides and laughing.

“You’re picking someone else over me? You’re a funny dude, dude.” 

You have to tell him three times that you are not joking and you’re dating somebody else, and you’re not interested.

He still acts like it’s a joke even then, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Okay, okay, tell me about this Prince Charming of yours.”

No matter what you stutter out, he laughs again, telling you to hold that thought and dashing out into the sky, returning not long later with your partner dangling by his leg, marks ankle in his iron grip, still grinning, looking almost proud as he brings your partner to you, like a cat with a dead mouse.

“You like piñatas?” 

Continues to find it funny when you beg and plead for your partners life. He can’t help it! Why are you so attached to this rando? You’ll end up dating him anyway, so why doesn’t he have fun with it? Can you blame a guy for having a good time?

Eventually puts your partner down and says if your partner can beat him in a duel he’ll let you two continue dating.

Well.

We know how that goes.

I think unlike viltrumite he drags the “duel” out, like a predator playing with its prey. He lets you go into another room if you don’t want to watch, he knows you can’t get far.

★ Target Mark / emperor Mark 

gamer rage

I don’t think Target mark is used to being told no at ALL. He rules his own empire, he has slaves for his every whim, why are you, just some human, rejecting HIM? A viltrumite EMPEROR?

Of course you’re not just a human to him. Not just another slave. You’re you, of course.

But he doesn’t tell you that.

He doesn’t even bother to deal with your partner

He wouldn’t even keep your partner as a slave in his empire.

he just picks you up and flies away with you with practiced ease - despite how much time he spends ruling he isn’t out of practice or 

You’ll make a great ruler with him, you can sit on his throne and you’ll have slaves of your own and you’ll live in nothing but luxury. You can even help execute  rioters with him if you want! Really, you should be grateful.

[byhuenii]

Think fast I'm a random girl

Pairing Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis Bucky Barnes gets kissed by his own girlfriend...

Who immediately claims to be a stranger. It was supposed to be a TikTok trend.

Now it's an Avengers-level crisis.

Word Count 3.5k

Themes + Warnings Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss (but make it affectionate) , TikTok trends gone too far , Confusion-based humor , #bucky deserves better , #bucky also kissed a stranger and that’s on him , poor Bucky

— Think fast I'm a random girl WHY ARE YOU KISSING A STRANGER

It was a quiet afternoon. Dangerous, really — the kind of quiet that made Bucky lower his guard. That rare kind of domestic peace where the dishes were done, the laundry was drying, and the only sounds in the apartment were the soft hum of the A/C and the occasional “mmhm” from Bucky, who was deep into scrolling cat videos on your couch.

He was blissfully unaware of the absolute feral energy vibrating off you from the other end of the cushions.

You’d seen the TikTok trend. You’d watched it at least twelve times. Memorized it. Practiced the tone. And now… the mission was go.

You sat up suddenly, eyes locked on him like a predator spotting prey.

“Okay. Think fast. I’m a random girl.”

Bucky looked up slowly, one brow raised. “You’re a what?”

You launched yourself across the couch and kissed him. Hard and dramatic — not a peck, not sweet, but movie-scene level commitment. You even did the little sigh at the end, for authenticity.

He kissed you back without thinking, hand coming up to your waist—

And then you pulled away just as fast, blinking innocently. “Hey. You kissed me.”

Bucky’s lips were still parted, pupils dilated. “Yeah? So?”

“I’m a random girl.”

His brain short-circuited so violently you could see it in real-time. He blinked once. Then again. “Wait. No. No, you’re not.”

You gasped, scandalized. “Oh my God. You just kissed a stranger.”

“What—what are you talking about?” he asked, half-laughing but visibly spiraling. “You live here!”

“Broke in,” you said solemnly, backing away. “Picked the lock. I’m a criminal.”

“You were literally in my bed this morning.”

“Oh no,” you whispered, horror-stricken. “I drugged you.”

“WHAT?!”

He stood up so fast the couch groaned. His whole face was a mix of betrayal and fear. “Did you hit your head? Are you pranking me? Is this one of those hidden camera things? IS SAM HERE?”

You were doubled over laughing.

“I swear to God,” he muttered, pacing now. “Steve warned me. He said women in the future were different. He said they were smart and powerful and terrifying. I thought he meant, like, in an empowering way—not a goblin chaos agent way.”

You lunged again, lips puckered. “C’mere, stranger—”

He sidestepped you like you were a flying brick.

“DON’T TOUCH ME,” he shouted, actually looking panicked now.

You full-on collapsed to the floor, howling with laughter, wiping away tears.

“WHO EVEN ARE YOU,” he demanded, flailing his vibranium arm like it might detect lies.

“Help!” you called dramatically from the floor. “This man is harassing me! I don’t know him! He has a metal arm!”

“YOU BOUGHT IT FOR ME! It was a birthday present, it had a bow on it!”

You crawled backwards like you were being cornered. “He’s in my house! Someone call the Avengers!”

“I am the Avengers!”

Your voice dropped to a whisper. “…Is that what you tell people?”

Bucky ran both hands down his face. “What do you want from me? What’s the goal here? Is this revenge for eating the last waffle?”

You made a break for him again, and he reacted purely on instinct — scooping you up bridal style mid-lunge.

“WHY ARE YOU PICKING ME UP?” you screamed. “I DON’T KNOW YOU.”

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO!” he yelled back. “MY MA SAID DON’T HIT WOMEN BUT THIS FEELS LIKE A TRAP!”

He started spinning in a slow circle like he was trying to find the nearest exit. “Do I… do I put you outside? Do I just… release you into the wild?”

“I’M CALLING THE COPS.”

“YOU CAN’T. YOU DON’T HAVE A PHONE. YOU’RE A STRANGER.”

You were sobbing with laughter now, kicking weakly in his arms. “PUT ME DOWN. I’M NOT HOUSEBROKEN.”

He groaned loudly and dropped you onto the couch like a sack of potatoes. “I cannot believe I thought you were the love of my life.”

“You kissed a random girl,” you wheezed.

“You tackled me with your mouth!”

“I feel violated,” you said, flopping dramatically onto a pillow. “I don’t even know your name.”

Bucky squinted. “Don’t. You live here. You know my full name, my trauma history, and the weird little noise I make when I eat too fast.”

You perked up, smirking. “Okay, so what is your name?”

He blinked. “James Buchanan Barnes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Sounds fake.”

Bucky looked straight at the ceiling. “I’m calling Sam. He’s gonna talk me through this.”

“Tell him a strange woman broke into your apartment and started making out with you.”

“I hate you,” he muttered, sitting back down, burying his face in his hands.

You leaned in, beaming. “But do you love me?”

He grumbled something that sounded like “unfortunately,” but it was muffled by his palms.

You kissed his cheek. “Kissing a random girl again. Bucky, your morals are slipping.”

He peeked through his fingers. “You are the worst.”

You snuggled up beside him. “You kissed me first.”

“You—you literally ambushed me!”

“And you fell for it.” You smirked. “Must be love.”

The next day, Bucky still hadn’t recovered.

You’d gone about your morning like nothing had happened. You made waffles. Stole his hoodie again. Kissed his cheek when he tried to protest. He looked at you like you were a mirage that might vanish if he blinked too hard.

He didn’t trust anything anymore. Not waffles. Not kisses. Definitely not you.

So, naturally, you invited Sam and Steve over.

“I need witnesses,” you said cheerfully, setting out coffee mugs.

“I need therapy,” Bucky muttered from the corner, arms crossed like a storm cloud.

Soon, Steve and Sam arrived. Sam immediately looked suspicious. Steve looked… well. Steve looked like a golden retriever who’d just been promised a picnic.

“What’s the emergency?” Sam asked, eyeing Bucky. “Why do you look like someone just told you jazz is outlawed again?”

Bucky pointed at you dramatically. “Her. She’s a menace.”

You blinked innocently. “I’m a random girl.”

Sam’s eyes lit up immediately. “Oh my God. You did the trend, didn’t you?”

Steve: “What trend?”

Sam: “THIS trend. Where you fake being a stranger and mess with someone until they lose their grip on reality.”

Bucky turned to Steve like he was his last lifeline. “She kissed me and then told me she was a stranger, Steve.”

Steve’s brow creased. “Wait, but you’re dating.”

“That’s what I thought!” Bucky cried, waving his hands. “And then she said she broke in and I drugged her! I almost called the cops on myself!”

Sam had fully sat down with popcorn. “Oh this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Steve looked deeply concerned. “Did… did you really say he drugged you?”

You nodded, sipping coffee. “I was committed to the bit.”

Steve’s face twisted into pure 1940s disappointment. “You kids call this fun?”

Sam grinned. “Yes. Yes we do.”

“I’m traumatized,” Bucky muttered.

“You kissed a random girl,” you said, poking him in the ribs.

He pointed at you. “You climbed me like a tree.”

“You dodged me like a dodgeball!”

Sam choked on his drink. “Wait—he dodged you? Bucky Barnes? Mr. ‘Yes ma’am’ Bucky Barnes dipped on a kiss?”

“Full side-step,” you confirmed. “Tactical. Military-grade evasion.”

Steve looked at Bucky like he’d broken the Geneva Convention. “Buck. You don’t just leave a lady hanging.”

“She said she didn’t know me, Steve!”

You turned to Steve with big, tearful eyes. “He touched me. I don’t know this man.”

Steve immediately straightened up, all business. “Sir, please step away from the lady.”

Bucky actually staggered back like he’d been hit.

“STEVE.”

Sam was laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

“Sam, back me up here—”

Sam wiped a tear from his eye. “Nope. I’m with her. You kissed a stranger. Your morals are gone.”

“I hate all of you,” Bucky growled, running a hand down his face.

You got up slowly, dramatic, like a villain in a soap opera. “I’m leaving. I can’t stay here. It’s not safe.”

Bucky turned. “Where are you gonna go?”

You gasped. “So you admit I live here?!”

“AH-HAH!” Sam shouted, pointing.

Bucky groaned so loud it might’ve cracked the window. “Steve, make her stop.”

Steve blinked. “I—honestly I’m not sure I can. I think she’s in charge now.”

You crossed your arms proudly. “I am.”

Sam stood. “As you should be.”

Bucky buried his face in his hands.

You leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “You love me.”

He mumbled something indecipherable.

Sam translated. “He said ‘I regret everything.’”

“I heard him,” you said sweetly, ruffling Bucky’s hair.

Steve clapped Bucky on the back. “You picked a feisty one.”

“She picked me,” Bucky groaned. “With a prank.”

“Sounds like love,” Steve said, entirely serious.

“I’m a random girl,” you whispered.

“I’m calling Nat,” Bucky threatened. “I need a spy extraction team.”

It had been three days since The Incident™.

Three days since you had completely dismantled Bucky’s understanding of reality with nothing but a TikTok trend and a kiss.

He’d been on edge ever since. Not like “threat-detected” Winter Soldier mode — no, this was worse. This was “paranoid boyfriend who thinks his girlfriend might be a shapeshifter or prank demon sent by Loki” energy.

He slept with one eye open.

And you?

You were planning Phase Two.

The Setup:

It started with a group text.

You:

Hey :) wanna emotionally destabilize Bucky Barnes for fun?

Nat:

Always. What’s the mission?

Wanda:

Are we doing costumes? I vote yes.

You:

No costumes… yet. Just follow my lead. Be natural. Gaslight him gently.

Nat:

“Gently” is not in my vocabulary but okay.

Location: Avengers Compound, Tuesday afternoon

Bucky arrived thinking it was a training day. He wore joggers and a scowl, hair tied back. Tired. Wary. A man who had been kissed by a “stranger” and hadn’t emotionally recovered.

Nat and Wanda were already in the lounge, drinking tea and chatting like they hadn’t both agreed to enter psychological warfare ten minutes ago.

You greeted him sweetly. “Hi, Buck.”

He flinched. “Is it you?”

“…Yes?”

“Okay. Just checking.”

You sat beside him and placed a soft hand on his knee. He looked suspicious but let it happen. So far, normal.

Then Nat leaned forward.

“So, Bucky,” she said casually, “who’s your friend?”

Bucky blinked. “What?”

Nat gestured to you. “The girl. You two… dating?”

His soul left his body.

“I—Nat. That’s my girlfriend. You’ve met her a hundred times.”

Nat tilted her head. “Hmm. I don’t know… she looks different. Are you sure?”

Bucky turned to Wanda. “Please. Help me.”

Wanda smiled sweetly. “I thought she was a new recruit.”

Bucky stood up like the chair had caught fire. “NO. No. Do not start this again. You know her. You live with her. She made cupcakes at Clint’s birthday. She’s been here since—WANDA, YOU GOT DRUNK AND TOLD HER YOUR CHILDHOOD TRAUMA.”

Wanda gasped. “I would never do that with a stranger.”

Bucky spun to Nat. “We did karaoke night. You made her sing Britney Spears.”

Nat raised a brow. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“She cried during ‘Everytime.’”

You buried your face in your hands, trying not to laugh.

“Okay,” Bucky said, pacing now. “This is a conspiracy. You’re gaslighting me.”

Wanda: “What does that mean?”

Nat: “Is that a stove thing?”

“OH MY GOD,” Bucky yelled.

Steve walked by with a protein shake, paused, and pointed at you. “Hey, isn’t that the girl who broke into your apartment?”

Bucky froze.

“STEVE, NO. NOT YOU TOO.”

Steve shrugged. “I’m just saying, you did tell me she said she was a stranger.”

“THAT WAS A BIT. SHE’S A MENACE.”

You waved. “Hi.”

Bucky whirled on you. “ARE YOU EVEN REAL?!”

Nat stood. “Bucky. Breathe. Let’s just ask Friday. She keeps visitor logs.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up. “Yes! Thank you! Sanity!”

Nat turned toward the ceiling. “Friday? Has this woman ever been here before?”

Friday’s voice chimed cheerfully: “No registered data. Identity unknown.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘UNKNOWN’?!” Bucky screamed.

You fell over on the couch, howling. Wanda wiped fake tears. Nat high-fived you.

“Friday, I introduced her to you! I programmed your empathy matrix with her voice profile!”

“Sorry, Sergeant Barnes,” Friday said calmly. “Would you like me to report this intruder?”

“I—YOU—NO!!”

Steve leaned over to Sam, who had wandered in with snacks. “So, uh… how long do you think it’ll take for him to realize Friday was in on it too?”

Sam smirked. “I give him another 45 seconds before he starts interrogating the toaster.”

Forty seconds later:

“FRIDAY TURNED AGAINST ME. I DON’T TRUST THE LIGHTBULBS.”

Eventually, you approached Bucky — gently, like someone approaching a feral cat. He was sitting in the corner, hoodie over his head, muttering something about betrayal and toasters.

“Hey,” you whispered, sitting beside him. “It’s me. Really me. It was a prank.”

He looked up at you, betrayed and wounded. “…You made Friday lie to me.”

You held his hand. “I make everyone lie to you. I’m amazing.”

“…I don’t know if I love you or fear you.”

You kissed his cheek. “That means it’s working.”

Bucky was so close to stability.

After the Nat-Wanda-Friday Incident™, he’d sworn off trusting anyone under 5’9” with “girlboss tendencies.” He’d even started sleeping with a knife under his pillow again—not for danger. For pranks.

You’d promised to stop.

He did not believe you.

But the real downfall came three days later, when Clint and Peter accidentally got involved.

The Scene of the Crime

It was supposed to be a normal movie night.

Just you, Bucky, Clint, Peter, and popcorn.

Bucky almost felt safe again. He sat with his arm around you, cautiously relaxed, sipping root beer like a man who had survived a war and thought it might be over.

That’s when Clint whispered something to Peter.

Peter nodded.

And then they stood up.

“Hey, Buck?” Clint said.

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “…What?”

Clint pointed at you. “Who’s this?”

You gasped. Peter gasped. Everyone gasped.

Bucky blinked. “We are not doing this again.”

Peter tilted his head like a confused puppy. “Wait, you brought a stranger into Avengers Tower?”

“She’s not—”

“She’s sitting on your lap,” Clint added.

“I know,” Bucky said, slowly losing his mind. “She lives here.”

Peter leaned over, whispering just loud enough. “Should we call security?”

Bucky stood up so fast you nearly fell off the couch. “I SWEAR TO GOD—”

You looked up, doe-eyed. “Security? That feels extreme. I just met him on Craigslist.”

Clint choked on his drink. Peter covered his face. You winked.

“I can’t keep doing this,” Bucky muttered, pacing like a war general. “My nervous system is fried. I wake up every night in a cold sweat to make sure you still have a toothbrush in the bathroom.”

“I don’t,” you said softly. “I’m a stranger.”

Clint fake-screamed. “OH MY GOD. SHE’S OFF THE GRID.”

Peter stood on the coffee table. “This is a level seven security breach!”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!” Bucky yelled.

You opened your phone and typed something. A second later, Friday’s voice returned:

“Alert: Unknown woman detected. Engaging lockdown protocol.”

Bucky physically collapsed to his knees. “Not again.”

Peter ran to the door and slammed it. “Nobody in or out! We contain the threat!”

Clint: “We neutralize!”

Bucky: “WE DON’T NEUTRALIZE MY GIRLFRIEND!”

You leaned toward Peter. “He kissed me.”

Peter gasped. “You kissed a stranger?”

Clint crossed himself. “Not very 1940s of you, man.”

And then—because the universe has perfect comedic timing—Tony Stark walked in mid-chaos, sunglasses on, coffee in hand, already disappointed.

“What the hell is going on in here? Why is Peter on a table? Why is Bucky having a nervous breakdown? Why does Friday sound like she’s preparing to tase someone?”

“Bucky brought a stranger into the Tower,” Clint said solemnly.

Tony turned to Bucky, smirking. “A stranger, huh? What, she knock on the door and you fell in love with her eye color?”

“She’s my girlfriend!”

Tony sipped his coffee. “Doesn’t sound like it.”

“OH MY GOD.”

You looked at Tony, deadpan. “He keeps touching me. I feel unsafe.”

Tony snapped. “That’s it. FRIDAY, deploy the safety nets.”

Metal doors started to close over the windows.

“I’m moving into the woods,” Bucky muttered, slowly walking toward the hallway like a ghost. “I’m gonna grow a beard. Befriend a deer. Never speak to another human again.”

Tony called after him. “Make sure the deer’s real, Barnes. You’ve got a thing for imaginary people.”

“TONY.”

The Aftermath

Two hours later, the Tower had returned to normal.

Peter apologized. Clint said he’d do it again.

Tony sent Bucky a fruit basket labeled “For Your Breakdown <3”.

You found Bucky sitting on the roof, hoodie up, staring into the New York skyline like it had personally betrayed him.

You sat next to him.

He didn’t look over. “If you say you don’t know me, I’m jumping off this roof.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “I love you.”

“…Do you?”

You kissed his cheek. “I do. Even though you kissed a stranger.”

He groaned so hard his soul left his body.

“Hey,” you added softly. “When you go to the woods, can I come?”

He looked over at you — tired, mildly traumatized, but hopelessly in love.

“…Only if you promise not to tell the deer you’re a stranger.”

“No promises.”

Bucky sat hunched over a cereal bowl like a man who had seen too much. He hadn’t spoken in twenty minutes. The spoon in his hand trembled like a horror movie protagonist.

You walked in, kissed his head.

He flinched.

“I’m your girlfriend,” you said softly.

“Are you?” he whispered. “Or are you a paid actor hired by S.H.I.E.L.D. to destroy me from within?”

You kissed his cheek. “Do I seem like I work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“…That’s exactly what someone who works for S.H.I.E.L.D. would say.”

Before you could respond—BOOM.

The door slammed open.

Thor marched in dramatically, wind in his hair despite no wind existing inside.

“I HAVE HEARD A STRANGER LIVES AMONGST US,” he bellowed.

Bucky stood up like a man about to be executed. “Thor. Don’t do this.”

Thor pointed directly at you. “STATE YOUR NAME, MYSTERIOUS MAIDEN!”

“…I’m your friend’s girlfriend?”

“WHO IS YOUR FATHER?! WHAT IS HIS LINEAGE?!”

“Sir this is a Wendy’s.”

Thor gasped. “She mocks the old ways. This is dark magic!”

“You’ve MET HER!” Bucky screamed.

Thor blinked. “Have I?”

Bucky launched his spoon across the room.

And just when he thought it couldn’t get worse—

Scott Lang appeared from nowhere. Literally. From under the table.

“Hey guys, what’s up?”

Everyone froze.

Bucky: “Where the hell did you come from?!”

Scott shrugged. “I’ve been small for, like, three hours. There were donuts.”

He looked at you. Then Bucky.

“…Wait. Who’s this?”

Bucky screamed. It was wordless. Primal. Ancient.

“I AM BEING HAUNTED. I’M IN A SIMULATION. I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF I’M REAL ANYMORE!”

You doubled over laughing. Thor looked impressed. Scott pulled out a cookie.

And then—because the gods hate Bucky Barnes—Nick Fury walked in.

Of course he did.

Fury didn’t even say hello. He looked at Bucky like he was a problematic file on his desk.

“We’re launching an internal investigation.”

Bucky blinked. “Into what?”

Fury crossed his arms. “Into your emotional stability.”

Thor nodded. “I fear he has been bewitched.”

“I’VE BEEN GASLIT,” Bucky yelled.

Nat, from the hallway: “More like girlbossed.”

Wanda, sipping tea: “And gatekept.”

Peter: “And publicly humiliated.”

Tony, on speakerphone from Malibu: “Also you fell for it. That’s on you, buddy.”

Bruce Banner slowly walked in with a tablet. “We’ve reviewed the footage. There are over 17 instances of psychological stress. He starts talking to a toaster around timestamp 00:42:17.”

Fury sighed. “We’ll need to wipe his memory. Again.”

“WHAT?!”

Bruce: “Kidding. Probably.”

You wrapped your arms around Bucky from behind as he just… stood there. Processing. Emotionally wrecked. Physically betrayed.

“Hey,” you whispered. “Want to move into that cabin in the woods now?”

He didn’t respond for a long time. Then:

“…Only if there’s no internet. No AI. No Avengers.”

You smiled. “Just me?”

He hesitated.

“…Are you sure you’re real?”

You took his face in your hands.

“I’m real,” you said, kissing his nose. “But if it makes you feel better, I can come with a birth certificate and three forms of I.D.”

“I’d prefer a blood test and a lie detector.”

“I’ll have Wanda conjure one.”

Bucky groaned into your shoulder.

One Week Later, Bucky disappeared. Moved into the woods. Built a cabin.

You went with him.

He installed three security cameras, a landline, and demanded Friday “never speak again unless it’s an emergency or a pizza delivery.”

He still flinches every time you say “Hey, think fast—”

But he smiles through it.

And the deer?

They love you.

(It was only temporarily. And when I say temporarily i mean like a week or two.)

(You’ve got mail!) bro I’m lwk going through a writing crisis cause I feel like nothing is gonna be as good BUT IMMPUSHING THROUGH ITT I have so many ideas down in my notes I’m really just waiting til I get that one. AND THEN I COULDNT FIND THE RIGHT PHOTOS FOR THIS SO FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER FOR A BUCKY FANFIC IM GOING AESTHETIC-LESS. I KNOW. I’ll still post but yesss I hope you enjoyed cause this was a little funny to make. And I also really want to do the college sports Bucky agenda LIKE SO BADLYYYY.

Tag List (For Mr.James Buchanan Barnes is open)

@bbsbrina @herejustforbuckybarnes @barnesandbouquets @winchestert101 @totallyanxiousart @lovinqbella @starstruckfirecat @beestarsuck

[pleasantlycrazyworld]

frank castle with a girlfriend whose anger just overwhelms her. she gets mad all the time about every little thing- like a mission went bad and she comes home fuming. how does he deal with her considering they're two angry birds lol

A/N: As a girl with some anger problems, I've been thinking about this concept for a hot minute now! I have a bunch of different little fics in the works with a similar theme, if you'd like to be tagged let me know :) This is a longer post I did a headcanon and a fic but I hope you enjoy! Sorry if it's too long for one post I just got too excited <3

I full believe that having a girlfriend with anger problems would heal him in a sense. Like he'll see someone who he loves deeply who also sees the world as he does and...I don't know, he just feels a bit less broken. I do think it throws him off at first but quickly after the first time he witnessed the anger burning inside of you, he grows fond of it and he appreciates it in a sense because he has witnessed first-hand how he doesn't need to be with you constantly for you to be safe.

I think it's important to acknowledge that Frank would be a man that would never tell you to calm down, that you're overreacting, or that you're being too much. You're anger and reactions isn't something he tries to fix. It's something he tries to support you through. Saying that though, he does understand how taxing being so angry can be. It's exhausting to feel a constant anger just simmer inside of you and he does wish he can ease it more for you.

He listens constantly. He may not say much, but he listens to every word of your rants like they're gospel. If you say someone pissed you off, he mentally logs their name, face, and location. Ya’know…just in case. Saying that! He always, always has your back. It doesn't matter if you're in the wrong or not if you're throwing punches, he lets you have your turn but then he comes to help you out no matter what. There will be times where he holds you back but that's just because he doesn't want to bail you out again.

A thing about him is that he would be the thing that anchors you, you burn bright, and he’s becoming the iron furnace that holds your flame. When you’re spinning, snarling, and just over all breaking down, he pulls you in and holds you still; not to stop you, but to anchor you. He absorbs your rage like armor.

He's the only one who can calm you down—and you’re the only one who can pull him back from the edge. There is a mutual understanding of being explosive, of being feared, of being too much? It binds you two. No one else seems to have an understanding of how you balance each other out, they just see two fires and assume a bigger flame forms and while that is true, they miss the fact that those two fires just want to rest together.

And oh my god the pet names! Frank obviously uses tradition princess, doll/doll face, baby/babe/babydoll etc. But he loves using on theme ones. Firecracker, Hellcat, My little gun powder. All said with a reverence and a fucking smirk that’s borderline dangerous.

+++++++(FIC DOWN BELOW) +++++++++

It starts with a sarcastic joke.

A stupid, throwaway comment in the middle of mission debrief, barely a mutter—"Maybe next time we send her in after she takes her meds, huh?"

And you just… snap.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?”

The room freezes. The lights don’t flicker, but the temperature does.

Frank—sitting in the corner, cleaning under his nails with a knife—doesn’t even look up…Yet.

The idiot (let’s call him Agent Dead Meat) doubles down. Fucking doubles down. “I’m just saying, your temper’s becoming a liability.”

“A liability?” you snarl, already standing, Frank winces from his corner, cringing just knowing how angry that had to make you. “I saved your ass twice last mission, and you’re lucky I didn’t throw you off the goddamn building after you botched recon!”

“Okay,” Matt says slowly from the side. “Let’s all take a breath—”

You lunge.

Frank catches you mid-air. Literally scoops you up like a growling feral cat. You’re kicking, fists flailing, eyes blazing murder. Frank adjusts his grip and lifts you bridal style, completely unfazed.

He sighs like this is the third time this week. “I got it. I got it. Let her scream it out. She’s fine.”

“Put me down, Frank!”

“Nope.”

“I’m gonna kill him!”

“I know you will but you ain’t today,” he says calmly, starting toward the hallway. “Because I like you in my bed, not in jail. And also, we talked about this—we can’t be doin’ no homicides before lunch.”

“Francis!” He tightens his hold. “You tryna get benched again?” he mutters against your hair. “You scream so pretty, baby, but you scare the damn rookies.” You seethed even brighter, “I want to scare the rookies!” He hums gently against you like he completely understands,“You already do.”

He carries you all the way out of the conference room, past stunned teammates and a deeply concerned therapist. You’re still writhing, muttering death threats under your breath. Frank doesn’t blink. You hiss, “You’re not even mad I tried to fight him?” Frank snorts. “Sweetheart, I nearly fucked you on the roof the first time you broke someone’s nose.”

That shuts you up.

Your pulse skips. Your squirming stills. “…Frankie?”

“Yeah?”

“…I love you so much it pisses me off.” He smirks. “Yeah, you’re real scary, baby.”

Later, when you're calm and curled up on his lap in the armory, sipping tea you pretend you don’t like, Frank kisses the top of your head and says: “Next time someone calls you a liability, I’ll hold them back and let you go.” You grin. “Aw. You do love me.” He just rolls his eyes, “Yeah yeah, fuckin God help me doll.”

+++++++++

Agent Dead Meat should’ve kept his damn mouth shut. But no. He starts smirking during sparring rotation.“You know, Castle,” he says, nodding in your direction, “she’d be a lot easier to work with if someone could get her to shut the hell up for five minutes.”

You pause mid-wrap, slowly flexing your fingers like you’re checking your grip—but really, you're picturing what part of his face would break first.

Frank—across the mat, holding a towel—doesn’t say a word…Yet.

Dead Meat just kept going. “I mean, we get it. She's hot when she's pissed. But someone should teach her to pick her battles.”

You don’t speak. You launch. And Frank just sucks his teeth trying to keep himself calm enough to let you have your time.

A blur of rage and speed—fist to jaw, foot to ribs, pure fury behind every blow. He tries to block. Fails. Tries to run. Fails even harder. You're on him like a damn storm. One hand in his collar, the other pulling back for a punch that’s gonna ruin his month.

That’s when Frank speaks. Calm. Even. Like he’s just narrating weather.

“I mean…She warned ya’.”

Dead Meat blinks up at him, nose already bleeding, confused and wheezing.

Frank shrugged off his pleading look,“Now I’m just her cleanup crew.”

You crack him across the mouth.

Frank sighs and walks over, towel still in hand, crouches next to the groaning body. “Broke his lip,” he notes casually. “You’re getting sloppy with your left hook, sweetheart.” You’re panting, eyes wild, crouched like an animal. “He insulted me.”

“I know, tiger I know,” Frank says, wiping a smear of blood from your cheek with the towel. “And you handled it.” He kisses your forehead. “Feel better princess?” You nod looking pissed still but pouty.  Frank leans a little further down and kisses your pout, “Want lunch?”

“…Yeah.”

“Come on firecracker.”

He stands, takes your hand, and steps over the twitching pile of what-used-to-be-Dead-Meat like it’s a speed bump.

Matt, standing from the side, just pinches the bridge of his nose.

“You two are psychotic.”

You grin. Frank just shrugs. “She bites, I bury. That’s the package deal red you know this. ”

Later, you're sitting on the kitchen counter, eating fries while Frank cleans your knuckles. “You really gonna keep letting me go feral on coworkers?” you ask, licking salt from your fingers. Frank doesn’t even look up. “Long as they keep talkin’ reckless? Hell yeah.” You smirk. “You’re a terrible influence.” He finally meets your eyes. And smiles. “You were unhinged before I got you, sweetheart. I’m just the one who knew how to love it.”

If you like my work, please let me know! Reblogging, commenting, and liking are huge and easy ways to let me know you're enjoying my work, and it keeps me motivated to post way more!!! Requests are open for Bob Reynolds, Bucky Barnes, Frank Castle, and Eddie Brock/Venom <3

Tagging:

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[itneverendshere]

Hi Gigi, I love your hockey Rafe and Kelce sisters fic so much! I always go back to it on Fridays to read—there’s something so great about it. I was wondering if I can request a very angsty fic, like Rafe and reader get in a really bad argument which leads them to almost break up. And that same week or something, Rafe has a hockey tournament (or whatever it’s called), and he’s really distracted because all he can think about is her. And she doesn’t show up to the game, and she hears that they lost. She goes to check up on him at his dorm, and it gets smutty—and kind of angry smut or something—but they make up, ’cause they’re my Shaylasss. Thank you for reading my request! I hope you have a great day :)

break my heart and start a fire - r.c (+18)

pairing: kelce's!sister!reader x hockey!rafe warnings: angst; smut.

You’re sitting on the kitchen counter in your new pristine, all-white apartment your parents paid for. You’ve got a glass of pinot balanced loosely in one hand, Chanel on your wrist, lashes still perfect and your laptop snapped shut beside you.

You’re livid.

When the door opens and Rafe walks in, you don’t bother looking at him.

“I’m not in the mood.”

Your tone is flat. You know it is. It’s the one that makes waiters flinch and your classmates call you intimidating.

You cultivated it, raised on legacy and expectations, and too many rooms full of men who thought you were a pretty rich thing and nothing else.

His feet stall.

“I was gonna apologize.”

You arch a brow, remaining fixed on the counter.

“Don’t bother.”

He frowns, stepping inside. “I had practice. Coach changed the schedule. I didn’t know—”

“You did know. You forgot.” You slip off the counter, eyes cold. “I reminded you three times this week. I needed you there for the presentation.”

What you don’t say is: you spent weeks working on that project, your TA tore it to pieces in mock reviews. Practiced your speech with Kelce, who couldn't focus because he was too busy texting girls.

You looked so good too—clean, a walking fuck-you in heels, and still, you kept glancing at the door, wholeheartedly believing he was coming.

He runs a hand through his sweat-dampened hair, breathing heavily. Normally, the picture of post post-practice boyish charm would work on you.

“I’m sorry, alright? I had a meeting with Coach and then a surprise scrimmage. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice, and somehow, I’m always the second one you choose.”

You phrased it wrong and hate the way it sounds.

“You’re being unfair,” He sighs, “I’ve missed one thing—what do you want me to do? Quit the team because I missed your research showcase?”

Your glass slams on the marble. “No, I want you to give a shit.”

“You know I do. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like I don’t care just because I didn’t move the world to watch you stand in front of a few professors and recite shit they already know.”

Your face freezes.

You’re in love with a boy who always gets to be wanted, while you’ve had to demand to be seen. He plays a sport people idolize, and you’re busting your ass to be taken seriously in rooms your last name already opens, and somehow, that already makes them respect you less.

You’re not mad about the presentation; you’re mad that he’s not understanding and your boyfriend seems to only realize what he said a second too late. 

“Fuck. That’s not—”

“Get out.”

“No, wait—I didn’t mean it like—”

“Get out, Rafe.”

“No, hold on. Listen to me. You know what pisses me off?” he snaps. “You think your shit matters more than mine.”

“I never said that.”

Never implied it. You see the way he hurts for this sport, when he comes home limping, icing his shoulder, dead on his feet but still grinning.

You love that part of him, for all its hunger and recklessness, but you wanted him there. 

“You don’t have to. You treat hockey like a joke. Like the only thing that matters is what you choose.”

“Because I chose it!” You step forward, eyes burning. “I didn’t let my dad fund it, didn’t rely on my last name, didn’t coast on legacy. I wanted something that wasn’t just given to me."

The ugly truth you hate admitting. You don’t get to be successful and brilliant and beautiful. You have to prove it, again and again. To your professors during your internships, and to your family, who put you on a pedestal without your asking.

Rafe stares at you in bewilderment.

“And I didn’t want that too?” he says quietly. “You think I didn’t join the team to prove I could be something outside of my family?”

“You didn’t even try to let me know. I kept waiting for you like a fucking idiot."

“I was gonna come,” He defends himself. “I swear. I had every intention. I even brought a change of clothes in the car—” His voice breaks off, setting him off just to remember, “—but then Coach pulled me into that meeting and I couldn’t say no, and the scrimmage went over and—”

“And you didn’t call,” You cut in. “You didn’t text. You didn’t try to. Because it wasn’t a priority. I wasn’t a priority.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You know I hate disappointing you.”

“Then why do you keep doing it lately?”

Too far?

“Because I’m drowning too, alrigh’t?” Rafe’s hands are in his hair, tugging. “Between practices, meetings, team events—I barely sleep. My body hurts all the fucking time. And I still try to be here. I still come.”

“But you don��t show up, Rafe!” You shout back. “There’s a difference. Physically being here doesn’t mean anything if you’re not actually with me.”

“So that’s it, huh? I’m never enough for you.”

You flinch. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

“Is it?”

“You want me to grovel?” His voice rises now. “You want me to beg and chase you like I always do? Say I’m sorry even when you don’t give me anything back? You remember that now or is it not convenient?”

You laugh bitterly. “I’m so hard to love, huh?”

“No,” he says, softer now. “You’re hard to reach.”

“If I’m so unbearable, go.”

He stares at you incredulous. “You want me to.”

You look away, throat’s tight, and your arms are crossed, and your body feels like it’s shaking even though you’re not moving.

“I needed you there,” you repeated for the millionth time.

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I wanted you to care enough to be there. Not feed me the same tired lines about ‘Coach this’ or ‘practice that’—”

“It’s not excuses,” he snaps, “It’s my life, and I’m doing the best I fucking can.”

“Maybe your best isn’t good enough,” You grit out before you can stop yourself.

“There it is.”

He breathes heavy again.

This isn’t about a missed presentation anymore. You both know it’s a compilation of everything underneath, the pressure, the resentment, the fear that this isn’t sustainable. That you love each other too much and not enough, all at once.

“I’m tired of fighting,” you say, quieter now.

“And I’m not? I’m trying.” He shakes his head, wounded.

That’s the moment you realize this might be the end.

“Maybe we should take a break.”

That one kills him.

You see it when Rafe stumbles back as if he’s in a game, being thrown into the boards by his opponents. You observe him closely, expecting the usual resistance, the pushback you never want but always thank God for.

The part where Rafe does what he always does, folds first, even when he shouldn’t, and fixes things.

This time, he doesn’t.

“Okay.”

No protest, or what do you mean or don’t do this or please.

Your heart jerks. That’s it? 

Rafe’s jaw clenches, it looks like he’s going to take it back. Yeah, he probably said it to hurt you back and he's going to apologize.

But he doesn’t take it back.

He nods once, eyes unreadable.

“Yeah,” He concedes. “Maybe we should.”

You thought he’d fight for it the way he always did before, all the times you nearly made it impossible.

But he doesn’t.

He gazes at you with that blank expression you despise, even if you rarely get a glimpse of it thrown in your direction. He gives you one last look then turns and walks toward the door.

He leaves without yelling or asking questions.

You don’t move an inch, you're going through an out-of-body experience, you're sure of it. You don’t call his name, even though you know you wanted to, even though every cell in your body is begging you to run after him

He agreed too fast, and now you’re spiraling, thinking he’d already been waiting to leave. You're aware you don’t have the right to be hurt after throwing it out like that and using the word break like it didn’t mean permanent.

But he didn’t say no.

He let you go.

It makes your soul hurt in a way nothing ever has, not your distant family members’ cold praise, the professors who’ve looked right through you, not even the last time you cried in your car alone because everything you’re doing this year still doesn’t feel like enough.

This is worse, so much worse.

Rafe's supposed to be your one place, your person.

You don’t notice the door closing behind him. 

It’s been four days since you told him to leave.

You're a mess.

To everyone else, you look fine. Perfect, even. Your lips are lined, your hair’s blown out, and your shoulders stay square like your momma taught you. 

But you can’t sleep, you’re barely eating, and you keep checking your phone even though there’s nothing there—no text, no missed call, not even a meme he’d normally send to make you roll your eyes.

That very night, you don’t go to his game.

You know it’s a big one, tournament-level, where scouts show up and people hold signs and they wear special jerseys and everything feels incredible. You were supposed to be in the front row; they saved your seat all season. You were going to wear his old hoodie, the one that smells like his soap and sweat, and pretend you’re bored even though you’d track every move he made on the ice.

But you don’t go.

You sit on your bedroom floor instead, wearing his sweatshirt, knees pulled to your chest, mascara smudged because you cried before even brushing your teeth. You had the thought earlier that maybe you overreacted, you could’ve been softer, more patient, more of a giver the way Rafe is when he’s not buried alive by everything else.

You’re not the only one breaking your back to be something.

It’s then, you understand, he was trying.

Even if he failed.

You shouldn’t have asked for a break and thrown away something that mattered because you were scared of needing him too much.

“You’re hard to reach.”

He's right.

You are hard to reach. You push shit away unless it shows up exactly when and how you want it. Lately you withhold affection like it’s currency and punish people for not reading your mind, for not prioritizing you above their exhaustion.

But Rafe always tries. Maybe not perfectly, not how you want, but he's there in ways you haven’t been giving him credit for.

He rubbed your feet after twelve-hour study days, even though he was covered in bruises from practice. He drove an hour out of his way to bring you your favorite coffee before your final, even though he had a meeting with his coach. He stayed on the phone, quiet and half-asleep, just so you wouldn’t feel alone while working through the night.

You never thanked him properly, because somewhere along the way, you started believing that existing beside you meant he should know how much you cared by now.  You didn’t voice it as much as you should. 

And when things didn’t go your way, you broke things off and expected him to catch it with grace.

All you can do now is sit with it.

With your pride, your selfishness. You press your palms against your eyes, because who the fuck even are you right now?

You used to be better than this.

But this fucking school, this pressure cooker of a life—it’s ruined your brain these past few months. Your GPA, your networking, your internships, your resume, your fucking LinkedIn updates.

Every conversation you’ve had in the past six months has felt like an interview. 

You never saw yourself turning into someone who thinks that love is earned only through proof, that affection is a game of keeping score. Didn’t realize you’d gotten so fucked up inside that you mistook his love for a burden, treating him like another checkbox. 

You gave him a breakup disguised as a timeout. And for what? Because you were hurting and didn’t know how to say it without making him bleed, too?

Now you’re alone with your full course load, your near-perfect transcript and your carefully curated life. And none of it matters without him.

You call your brother around nine, attempting to keep your voice even.

“How’d the game go?”

You’re greeted by a sigh.

“We lost,” he groans. “Bad.”

Your stomach drops.

“Rafe?”

“He played like shit,” Kelce says flatly. “Didn’t pass. Missed two wide-open shots. Coach nearly benched him, but it was already over by then.”

You press your palm to your eyes.

“He’s not talking to anyone,” Kelce adds. “Went back by himself. I wouldn’t bother unless you’re ready to deal with… all of that.”

You hang up before he can finish.

Your fingers are already reaching for your keys.

The halls are dim when you reach his floor. You know the code to his door by heart now—he gave it to you last year, and even though he spent most of his time by your dorm and now at your condo, he liked the idea of you using it for no reason.

You stand outside for a second, listening, there’s no sound.

You key in the code anyway.

The light’s off. 

There’s a tiny glow from the lamp by the bed, but everything else is still. His sticks are tossed in the corner, pads in a heap near the desk, and Rafe is sitting on the mattress, hunched over in a pair of sweats, a towel draped around his neck.

Shoulders bare, bruises already forming on one side of his ribs.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You step in anyway.

“You lost.”

He gives a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Your heart is climbing into your throat.

“I should’ve been there."

That makes him look up. 

His eyes are bloodshot, and it kills you. You don’t think they’re from crying, Rafe hardly does that. They’re most likely from playing like he had something to prove and nothing left to lose.

“Yeah. You should’ve.”

He looks like hell.

“I’m so sorry.”

Rafe doesn’t move.

You walk toward him slowly, not wanting to overstep, you don’t know where your relationship stands.

“I didn’t mean it,” You stutter out. “I was scared, and I said it to hurt you. But I didn’t want you to agree. I didn’t want you to go.”

His hands are balled into fists on his thighs.

“You don’t get to say ‘let’s take a break’ and then show up four days later because you feel like shit about it.”

“I know.” Your voice cracks. “I know that. But I—”

“No,” Rafe cuts in, “You don’t know. You don’t fucking get it, do you?”

His eyes are wild. 

“You think I didn’t want to fight for you? That I didn’t sit there, staring at my phone, praying you’d say you didn’t mean it?” His hands fly to his hair. “I didn’t say no because I didn’t care. I said no because I was tired. Every time I try these days, it’s never enough for you.”

You flinch, but he keeps going.

“I played like shit today. You wanna know why? I couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you weren’t there. That I didn’t even know if you were watching. I gave everything I had on that ice, and all I could think about was whether you still gave a fuck about me.”

“I do,” You whisper, "Of course I do."

“Then where the fuck were you?”

You’re crying now. Full-body ache, throat-closed kind of crying.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” You choke out. 

“You don’t break up with the person you love just to test if they’ll stay.”

“I know. I know that now.” You’re pleading. Shaking. “I was wrong, Rafe. I was fucking wrong.”

“You broke my fucking heart.”

“I know,” You’re kneeling in front of him now. He finally glances down and sees your hands shaking at your sides, the uneven movement of your chest; “I fucked everything up.”

Rafe’s face drops, not expecting you to do it. You brace your palms on the floor between his knees like you’re begging, because at this point, you are—and you don’t care how pathetic it looks.

“I messed it all up,” Your tone is rushed. “And I know you’re mad. I want you to be mad. I would be. I said cruel shit and that makes me disgusting—”

“Hey—”

“—and I knew the second I said break that I didn’t mean it, but it was like I couldn’t stop myself—”

“Breathe, princess.” Rafe leans forward, gripping your arms. “Look at me. You’re not breathing.”

It’s killing him to see you like this.

“I’m sorry,” You sob again. “I should’ve been there, I wanted to. I take and I take and I act like I’m better, but I’m not. I’m not.”

“Stop it,” He tells you firmly.

“I didn’t want to lose the only person who ever really looked at me like I was more than some legacy brat.”

“Stop—”

“And now you’re gonna hate me, and I’ll deserve that too—”

“Baby.”

Your voice breaks entirely. Your hands curl into his thighs. “Please don’t hate me.”

Rafe’s breath punches out of him. He gets down on the floor in front of you, drops from the bed, and kneels too, knees pressed against yours, taking your wrists in his hands.

His blue eyes flutter, praying for strength. When they open again, he studies you, trying to decide what the fuck he’s doing.

“I could never hate you,” He scolds you quietly. “I was mad. Still am. But don’t ever say shit like that again.”

You’re still crying, sobbing, it’s so ugly that it makes your whole body seize. You don’t remember crying this much.

“I couldn’t breathe today,” You confess through the tears. “I was sitting on the floor and I couldn’t move, Rafe. I couldn’t eat, kept seeing your face when I told you to go.”

He slowly pulls you forward until you’re folded into his chest, and you cling to him immediately, terrified you’ll be dumb enough to lose him again. 

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” you sniff against his shoulder. “I don’t even know, Rafe. This school year is fucking killing me, and I’m killing us.”

His hands are in your hair now, holding your head to him. You’d give him shit for ruining your blowout, but it’s been messed up enough by you.

“Someone like you?” He repeats, “You’re all I want. Even when you’re difficult, when you’re selfish. Even when you drive me up the fucking wall.”

You huff a weak laugh through your tears.

“I didn’t fight,” He murmurs. “It felt like… You didn’t want me to. You’d already decided.”

“I wanted you to,” you admit. “Even when I said not to. I always want you to.”

His arms tighten. “Then tell me, baby. Don’t make me guess.”

You pull back to look him in the eyes; it’s therem, the pain. You cup his face, shaking hands sliding over his jaw, feeling the stuble there.

“I miss you. I miss being yours.”

“You think you’ll ever not be mine, princess?” His eyes, bloodshot from the game, from the loss, from you, search your face. "Not a fucking chance, okay? You think I’d let go of you that easily?” He goes on, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? I don’t have a backup plan. You are the plan.”

You reach for him again, caressing beneath his eyes like you could take the pain from him if you touched him gently enough.

“You’re my plan too, I swear. I never cared about anything like I care about you. That should’ve been enough to make me softer. I let everything else come first—my pride, my fear, the pressure. I didn’t make room for you.”

His thumb grazes your cheek and you realize too late he’s wiping away your tears.

“I wanted you to show up,” You go on, “but I wasn’t showing up for you either. I kept asking you to reach for someone who wasn’t reaching back.”

You swallow hard.

His brow creases, you think he’s going to speak, but instead, you feel his forehead drop to yours.

“You scare the shit out of me sometimes.”

You’re startled. “What?”

He exhales against your cheek.

“You act like you don’t need anything. You’re always humiliated to ask. It’s been a year, princess. Stop holding me at arm’s length.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“I know.”

You shift forward until your nose is brushing his, and your breath stutters when his hand cups the back of your neck.

“I thought you were done with me.”

“I was waiting to see if you’d come back,” He replies.

“And if I hadn’t?”

“I would’ve waited.”

“I love you,” you breathe, hoping it comes out like an apology.

“You think I don’t know that?” His hands slide down to your hips. “Get up here.”

You move onto his lap, knees bracketing his thighs, bodies chest to chest. It doesn’t feel like the beginning of sex, more like two people trying to climb back inside the same body after being ripped apart.

His hands flatten against your back.

“I still feel like I can’t catch my breath. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He reassures.

You nod against him, the tension in your muscles beginning to melt beneath his touch. His fingers stroke soothing lines up and down your spine, grounding you.

“I was so mean to you.”

“You were scared,” he replies. “So was I.”

“And now?” You ask softly. “Are you still scared?”

Rafe’s gaze drops to your mouth before coming back to your eyes, burning. 

“Only of losing you again.”

You lean in hesitantly and kiss him.

You didn’t know you could miss something this much. He takes it, holds it, and breathes it in. His hand slides up to cradle your face. Every time your lips meet, it feels like a sob gets caught in your throat.

You feel him sigh into you and then stop.

He tilts your chin, eyes glassy but fierce. 

“Next time it gets bad, you come to me. You don’t test me; you broke me a little.”

“I know,” You grimace. “I broke me too.”

“You stubborn, magic girl,” He mutters, almost in awe. “You think I ever stood a chance?”

You laugh quietly, shaky from the remains of your tears. 

“You should’ve run the first time I said ‘fuck off.’”

He smirks. “That was when I knew.”

Your smile fades as your brows knit. “Rafe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna be better, okay?” Your head dips desperately, “I will. I swear. I just—” You swallow, “I hated myself for the things I said. For shutting down, shutting you out. I don’t want that if it means losing you.”

God, it does hurt like a bitch to admit it—to need someone like this. But Rafe’s always done it; it’s time you do it more often.

“I was so fucking proud,” You murmur disdainfully. “So convinced that if I caved first, I’d lose the little bit of ground I had left. None of it was worth it.”

He kisses your cheek like it's a penance. “I know, sweet girl. We’ll figure it out, we’re gonna fuck it up sometimes. It’s okay.”

You grab his face and kiss him once more. You taste the hurt on his tongue, feel the way he freezes, then clutches at your body. He groans into your mouth, biting at your lip too harshly, pulling you in closer, lifting you without asking.

“Don’t disappear on me again,” He growls against your lips, dragging his mouth along your throat, hand already up your shirt. He can’t stand a second of space between you. “Don’t ever do that again.”

You whimper, fingers threading into his hair, pulling.

“I won’t. I swear.”

“Do you have any idea,” he mutters, mouth against your skin, “What it did to me, not knowing if I’d get to fucking touch you again?”

“I’m right here."

You’re already dragging his shirt off, and he’s already pushing your shorts down your legs.

It’s frantic, neither of you are sure how long this will last—if it’s real or if one of you is still about to run. Every movement is angry and desperate. You claw at his back, he grips your ass too hard, but it’s all honest, out in the open.

“Good,” he pants, lining himself up.

When he sinks into you, it’s not sex, it’s an apology that goes both ways. A reckoning. He’s buried in you, his forehead pressed to yours again, sweat on his brow, mouth open in a pained gasp.

“I missed you.”

You nod, kissing him through it. “I know. I know. I’m here.”

You gasp his name, and he groans, head thrown back.

“Rafe—” you cry out, digging your nails into his shoulders, riding the rhythm he sets, desperate, full of love you. “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t,” he pants, voice hoarse, “Don’t apologize now. Take it. Take me.”

You do.

God, you do.

Your thighs are shaking around him, his sweat-slicked skin sliding against yours.

“I thought I lost this,” He snarls, voice quavering, “Thought I lost you.”

You hold his face between your hands, eyes shining through the blur of lust and tears. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” Rafe implores against your skin as his mouth travels down your neck, sucking, marking you.

You shiver, heart pounding, pulling his head back so you can look into those fierce eyes.

“You’re real. And so am I.”

He answers with his mouth on yours, on your throat, your chest. His hands never stop moving. It’s not about pleasure anymore, though the pleasure is there, coiled at the base of your soul, threatening to take you out.

You hiss when his teeth scrape meanly over your skin, holding on for life at his broad shoulders as he fucks into you harsher, punishing you for all the days you weren’t here, for every second he thought he’d lost you.

“I’ve been dying for this. For you.”

Rafe pulls you flush against him, chest to chest, ghosting over your jaw. His hands explore hungrily, reclaiming desperately.

You wrap your arms tight around his neck, burying your face against his sweaty skin. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He bites down on your shoulder—hard enough to leave a mark, but not to hurt—and creaks a, “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

When your orgasms come, it feels like punishment, overwhelming, devastating, your body arches, legs locking around him, and Rafe curses, holding on, afraid you’ll vanish once again.

He follows seconds later, buried to the hilt, his whole body trembling as he pulses inside you, forehead crushed to your collarbone, breath shattered.

When Rafe finally speaks, his voice is soft again.

“Never again. You hear me?”

You nod, breath catching. “Never again.”

[formulafanfics13]

Just the Tip - Toto Wolff 🔥

Masterlist

TW: mentions of potential SA (full consent not exactly given) - this one is also a bit darker than the others so please keep this in mind before reading

She didn’t mean to end up in his hotel suite. Not really. Not like this. But she couldn’t say no to him. She never could.

Toto Wolff was everything she wasn’t. Powerful. Composed. Dangerous. He towered over her, all broad shoulders and cold beauty, watching her with that unreadable stare he used in boardrooms and driver briefings.

And yet his voice? When it dropped low in private? It was velvet.

“You trust me?” he asked, fingers brushing her jaw, his Austrian accent curling around each word.

She nodded.

“Say it.”

“I trust you.”

“Good girl.”

She stood trembling in front of him, bare beneath her robe, nervous fingers clenching the silk at her sides. Toto reached into the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a black satin blindfold. “Lie down.”

She obeyed. He leaned over her, slow, methodical, brushing hair back from her face before slipping the fabric gently over her eyes. “Once the blindfold is on, you don’t speak unless I tell you to. Understand?”

She whispered yes.

“You’ve never done this before.”

“No.”

“Then I’ll show you what it means to surrender.”

She lay still, breathing sharp, every sense heightened. She couldn’t see, and that made everything worse. The rustle of his clothes. The soft thump of him kneeling at the end of the bed. The click of the drawer opening again.

“You asked me to take just the tip.” She nodded. “But then you begged for more.”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

Toto dragged two fingers up her thigh. “And now you’ll get more. But on my terms.”

She gasped as something cool and hard touched her clit, and began to hum. The vibrator. Her hips jerked, hands clutching the sheets.

Toto’s voice was low. “Easy. Relax. You’ll thank me.”

He circled it gently, never pressing too hard. Never letting her fall too far. Every time her breathing hitched, he’d pull back. Every time she whimpered, he’d start again, slower. She was dripping. Shaking. So close to breaking.

“Toto,” she gasped. “Shhh.” He leaned over and kissed her collarbone. “You’re not coming yet. Not until I’m inside you.”

She felt his cock press against her, thick and heavy, one strong hand guiding it between her thighs. “Deep breath,” he murmured. “I’ll go slow.”

He pushed the tip in. She cried out, the stretch was deep and tight and too much, but perfect.

He didn’t move. Let her adjust. Stroked her cheek where the blindfold ended. “You’re doing so well, mein Mädchen.” “My good girl.”

She whimpered. “Toto-”

“I’m going deeper.” And he did. Inch by inch. Stretching her open on his cock, filling her with a slow, relentless ache that made her toes curl and her mind go blank.

“Feel that?” 

She nodded.

“That’s not the tip.”

She moaned.

“That’s me. Inside you. Taking what you gave me.”

He started to move. Slow. Deep. Controlled thrusts that forced her body to open wider, take more, accept all of him. “You were made for this,” he growled. “Made for me.” The vibrator pressed to her clit again, and she screamed. Her orgasm hit like fire, hard, sudden, all-consuming. She shook beneath him, sobbing out his name, her body trembling with the force of it.

And still he didn’t stop. “I’m not done with you.”

“Toto-please-”

“One more.”

“No-”

“One more. Give it to me.” He fucked her harder, rougher now, the bed creaking, her blindfold soaked with sweat. When he came, it was deep inside the condom with a low growl, his hips slamming into hers, hands gripping her wrists down into the mattress.

After, he lay beside her, chest heaving. He pulled off the blindfold. She blinked up at him, dazed. “You said just the tip.”

Toto kissed her forehead. “You asked me to teach you.” And his voice dropped to a whisper. “That was lesson one.”

[bambiihee]

FROM UTOPIA AND BACK ˒˒ 이희승 〔 TEASER 〕

♫ listen to the playlist here!

pairing。 » lee heeseung x fem!reader 𓄵feat。 the rest of enhypen, giselle and winter from aespa, lia and ryujin from itzy, yunjin from lsfm, named oc boyfriend

genre。angst, smut, porn with plot, unhappy ending

warnings。» explicit language and sexual content, drug use, mentions of marijuana and prescription pills, dealer!heeseung, good girl!reader, college au, fraternities and sororities, ex fwbs to ???, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, squirting, dirty talk, praise kink, cheating/infidelity, piv, unprotected sex, facefucking, facials, meanie!heeseung, semi-public sex, more tags to be added. everything is terrible and everyone sucks. current word count。9k (final wc ~ 25-30k)

teaser word count。1.3k

bambii's note。» now that i'm officially a third of the way through this fic, I wanted to share a little teaser of what's to come!! this fic is literally my fucking baby and I really hope you guys are as excited about reading this as i am writing it. let me know if you want to be tagged for when it releases! I'm not making any solid promises due to my event and the other fics I'm working on, but I'm really hoping to be done with this thing by mid to late august. I'm not comfortable setting an official release date until I'm much closer to the finish line.

If you were sober, you would be in full blown panic mode, but the weed is making it difficult to really care. It wasn’t as if you were missing some big test or anything, and Heeseung skipped class all of the time and no one ever batted an eye… and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want this moment to end. You and Heeseung together in his car like nothing had ever happened between you, like everything was just as it was when you thought you had his heart. 

“This is what I mean when I say you think too much.” Heeseung shakes his head and lights thankfully not another joint but a cigarette. “Nobody cares if you don’t show up to a class or two. Just tell them you were sick or something if they’re really that nosy. Besides, we’re the only people on this side of the parking lot right now. It’s not like somebody’s going to see you.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Come on, stay with me a little longer. Just until you’re sober. I missed you.” and there he goes again, with his big, sparkly Bambi eyes, gazing down at you like he needs your permission to breathe. You hate him, hate how manipulative he is and how good he is at it. You hate how confident you were that you could beat him at his own game, yet here you are, falling for the same old tricks like you never learned your lesson. 

“I haven’t missed you.” you mutter petulantly. It doesn’t sound believable even to your own ears. 

Heeseung grins like it was a compliment. “Oh, yeah? Jinyoung keeping you satisfied?”

He spreads his legs wider, to the point it’s almost obscene. You swallow hard and avert your eyes from his very inviting lap. Memories of being perched on that lap tug at you like unraveling threads, slowly breaking you down; grinding up against him in this very backseat, moaning into each other's hot mouths, sliding your hands along his built thighs when you got on your knees for him, only because the touch made him shudder. How easily he made you feel like you never had before, cocky and laidback and effortless as if he wasn’t even trying. How he would talk you through it, the words branded into your brain, ringing in your ears when you’re touching yourself at night. You’ve made yourself cum to the memory of what “good girl” sounded like coming from his lips. 

“He is keeping me satisfied, actually.” you insist. Somehow, you sound even less believable than you did before. “I’ve been getting out of my shell more now that we’re together; he keeps me from rotting away in my bedroom every day.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause Friday night you looked fucking miserable.” Heeseung cocks his head, eyes glittering with mirth. “Anyway, that’s not the kind of satisfied I’m talking about.”

You stiffen, a rising heat flushing your neck and cheeks. “Heeseung.” you warn him, though it sounds more like a desperate plea. 

“I’m just asking. Is it wrong to be curious?” he croons, grin widening. It’s not hard to imagine the pitchfork and the horns, red and twisted and hiding underneath his equally red hair. “He must be fucking you right if you’re defending him this much.” 

“I’m not having this fucking conversation with you, Lee.” you wish you had more control over your voice, like Heeseung did. You wish you didn’t sound so cornered and weak. 

“Does he make you feel good? Better than me?” Heeseung leans in and his thick, musky cologne invades your senses, clouds your mind worse than the weed. The familiar, enticing scent works through you as if you were one of Pavolv’s dogs, notes of wood and amber with a hint of marijuana and cigarette smoke, so unmistakingly Heeseung that it makes your thighs clench. It reminds you of nights you used to spend with him, twisted together on his mattress, wearing his clothes like he and you were something more than… you weren’t even friends. Confidants, maybe. Business partners. Two strangers in a deal; you wanted his drugs and he wanted your body. 

He still wants your body. He tells you as much with his arms caging you against the headrest, heavy on top of you and staring you down like a predator. His sultry gaze sets your skin on fire, the heat settling deep in your gut. “Does he fuck you every night like I did? Does he make you squirt as easily as I can? Does he eat your pussy the way you like?”

You whimper and squirm underneath him, unable to meet his eyes. It’s agonizing just how easily he can turn you on, your belly fluttering with hot, sticky arousal from hardly anything at all. “You’re disgusting.” you spit at him, though you don’t sound nearly as angry as you would like. It’s just what Heeseung was hoping you would say.

He beams. “Oh fuck, he doesn’t, does he? Parades you around like a trophy but can’t even please you right— do you put up with it for the stability? Fake moaning in his ear so he feels like a man?”

You shake your head violently, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Can he even make you cum?”

You don’t stop shaking your head. 

Heeseung laughs, a sharp, startling bark directly in your face. He forces you to look up at him with his fingers gripped tight around your chin, his calloused fingertips digging into the fat of your cheeks. There’s a fire burning in his eyes, hungry and dangerous, all consuming with how the burning heat of his gaze overtakes your body. “I knew it. I’ve been listening to girls complain about how bad of a lay he was for years. Bet he talked big game, too. How long have you been having to finish yourself off after he falls asleep? Are your fingers even enough anymore or did you get some toys? Do you still think of me when you’re fucking yourself? Wishing it was me between those thighs?” 

“Heeseung, stop.” you plead with him again, but you make no move to stop him when his hand comes to rest heavy on your inner thigh. 

“Now that’s disgusting. It’s fucking criminal, having you like that and not ruining you.” he continues, warm breath tickling your ear and nose. The smell of ash on his lips tempts you for a taste. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re falling apart. Used to make you cum until you couldn’t anymore, remember baby? Poor, smart girl all stressed out and needing me to fuck her stupid. ‘Til your sweet little head’s all empty and your pussy’s shaped like me. Fuck, that’s why you’re really here, isn’t it? You’re all pent up, seeking any kind of release— it’s not really my weed you want, baby. You need me to make you cum.” 

His hand slides higher, underneath your skirt and your sweater, pinky finger ghosting over the gusset of your panties. You want to fight him, push him off and away, but you’re frozen underneath his searing touch. Just the tips of his fingers and the ghost of his lips across your jaw is enough to get your pussy soaking, dampening your panties and making your hips twitch. Heeseung can no doubt feel the wet spot, growing bolder with two of his long thick fingers tracing the outline of your pussy lips. You grab ahold of his hoodie sleeve, clutching desperately to ground yourself and keep from grinding up into his hand. 

“We can’t,” you mewl pathetically, baked brain spinning from how fast your carefully constructed walls are coming down. It’s a shame. You spent months working on them.

Still, even as you deny him, you don’t try to stop him when he cups your hot, throbbing cunt in his palm and presses down, rewarding your gasp with a deceptively chaste kiss to your neck. “Just say it and I’ll give you what you want, princess. Tell me what you need from me.”

[loverboysturn]

⸝⸝ the group have a pool day at birdie's, and lucky and matt finally get five minutes alone ꒱

OR matt and lucky get their first moment alone all day, but birdie is the clumsiest person alive.

warnings: sexual tension, not smut but suggestive content, mentions of alcohol. think that’s it !

notes: if you saw this last night… you did not 🫡

“birdie, you just said put two shots in,” you hear chris’s voice from the kitchen behind you, “i’m followin’ your instructions, baby.”

“i said put in two shots per glass. not two shots between five,” birdie fires back, giggling at chris’s error.

“you didn’t say that.”

“i did, chris. you just don’t listen.”

“this is fuckin’ painful,” nick groans, “can you two just cut the fruit or something? i’ll make the drinks.”

the three of them had been like that since they had gone inside fifteen minutes ago to make you all more drinks. they’ve been bickering, laughing, getting absolutely nothing done and from what you can hear, not a single drink has been poured yet because chris is too busy complaining about how he’s already bored of cutting up the fruit, and birdie is more focused on proving a point than measuring anything accurately.

you’re half listening to them from the edge of the pool, legs dangling in the water. your skin smells like residue sun cream mixed with chlorine, your hair is still a little damp from your dip earlier, and although it’s evening now the heat from the day hasn’t lifted at all, leaving a thick, stuffy humidity hanging in the air.

but truthfully, you can’t focus on any of that because it’s just you and matt out here, alone, for the first time all day.

he’s in the deep end of the pool, elbows resting on the ledge, his head tipped back pretending that he’s looking at the sky, but he’s not. you know he’s not, he’s looking at you.

you’ve noticed him looking at you all day.

you’ve felt it. every time your legs brushed under the garden table during dinner, every time he caught your eye from the sun loungers and didn’t look away. the tension has been brewing between you both all day, now becoming impossible to ignore.

“what’re you thinkin’ about?” his voice cuts through, breaking the silence between you.

you look up, instantly catching his eyes.

“nothing much.” a lie, and you both know it.

he pushes himself off the ledge, and slowly makes his way towards you, stopping just in front of where you’re sat on the edge.

“don’t believe you.” he says, resting his chin on your knee. “you thinkin’ about me?” a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“oh please,” you roll your eyes, but you can’t stop the giggle that slips out. “you’re full of it.”

“haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you since the other night,” matt’s voice a little lower now.

“i’ve been right here, all day.” you whisper, reaching down without thinking to brush a wet strand of hair from his face. the way he’s looking at you makes your heart race and stomach flip.

he leans in without breaking eye contact, pressing a soft peck to your knee. then another, and another. each kiss landing slower than the last, as they move closer to the inside of your thigh.

“pretty girl.” he murmurs, lips brushing higher now.

you don’t even realise it but your legs part just slightly as his hands slowly slide up the outside of your thighs, fingers curling themselves around your hips steadying you in place as he trails more kisses higher and higher, until his mouth is at the edge of your bikini bottoms.

his fingers start fiddling with the strings of your set, tugging them just enough to tease you, like he’s contemplating the idea of undoing them but doesn’t want to rush it.

he glances up at you, his lips hovering just over the thin fabric of your bikini, so close to you now that you’re aching for him. “you missed me, lucky?” he asks, still looking up at you, teasing you like he’s about to give in.

you nod, “missed you.” your voice is barely above a whisper, and he smiles but it’s not a smug smile, it’s something a little softer.

“just wanna show you how much i missed you,” he breathes out, leaning in closer. his fingers hooking into the side of your bikini bottoms, tugging them gently aside as his lips stay hovered over your newly exposed skin. your fingers thread into his hair, tugging at it gently as a quiet moan slips from your mouth.

and then, smash.

there’s a loud crash from outside the kitchen doorway that leads out to the garden, followed by birdie’s voice.

“oh fuck, chris. i’ve dropped the glasses.”

you both jump, and matt immediately pulls back, and in a panic you slip into the pool next to him, pretending to anyone if they saw you that you’d been in the water this whole time. you slick your hair back with the water, and the both of you are trying to not laugh at how close you were to getting caught, but your heart is racing, and you’re slightly out of breath still.

“you good, bird? be careful of the glass.” matt calls out, casually.

“holy fuck,” chris’s voice follows as he opens the glass door to the garden further, “you’re the clumsiest girl on this whole fuckin’ planet, i swear.”

you hear her apologising through a fit of giggles, followed by chris’s voice again. “don’t move,” he says, “you’re barefoot and there’s glass literally fuckin’ everywhere.” then you hear a squeal from birdie’s mouth as you watch chris lift her up, bridal style, off the floor.

nick trails out into the garden then, immediately seeing the drinks he’d spent so long making, all over the floor. “y’know? i love you birdie, but your clumsiness right now is really inconvenient.”

matt lets out a quiet laugh, muttering under his breath for only you to hear.

“fuckin’ tell me about it.”

divider credit: enchanthings-a

[norwayromanoff]

You Were Are Hers pt. 2

NR x lover-turned-enemy!r

Summary: Four months later.

Word count: 1k

Author’s note: I fixed it (I’m physically incapable of ending things badly for Natasha… like give that woman a break. She’s been through enough)

You can read part 1 here

FOUR MONTHS AGO

You pull the trigger and the shot rings out, loud, deafening in a way that isn’t just due to the gunpowder’s ignition. Somehow you managed to take the shot even though your eyes were blurry with tears and devastation, with heartbreak you shouldn’t be feeling.

The bullet burns past Natasha, grazing her cheek, minor blood, no mess. She’s quick to turn in the direction it came from, eyes scanning the horizon. She can’t see you, but she feels you.

You missed. You don’t miss.

Natasha knows what that means. It was a warning, a ‘don’t come after me’. It was a plea.

She never was good at not following her heart when it came to you.

ONE DAY AGO

It takes days, months, of more research, more data analyses, more late nights, but finally, there it is. Mistakes—plural—and they’re not subtle. You’re getting sloppy. Something's wrong.

A security camera picked you up in Lisbon, just a fleeting image but enough. Facial recognition scans were able to match your faceprint as you walked along the street. It looks as though you hadn’t even noticed the camera. Mistake. Camera tracing followed you, showed you getting into a vehicle, not unmarked, license plate in full view, trackable. Mistake.

Hope, tentative and perhaps foolish, flutters in her chest. She doesn’t push it down.

PRESENT DAY

Natasha finds you easily, detects you easily even within the crowd. She can already see the change in you. You’re shaky and on edge, not collected or composed anymore. You look human again. Her breath stutters.

She got on a Quinjet only minutes after locking onto your location, stole a Quinjet, actually. She may be in for a lecture later, but you take precedence, you always have. It would be a seven-hour flight to Lisbon by commercial airplane. Too long. She needs you back, now.

She moves forward, steps cautious, still just watching, taking in your unusual behavior as she begins to tail you. You don’t even notice her following. Mistake, mistake, mistake.

At her call of your name, you stop, stiffening, but you don’t turn around. Not yet. Both her voice and the fact that she caught you off guard make you wary. Your name again, closer this time. When you finally glance at her, she can see your fear at your own negligence, and she’s met with a guarded expression on your face. She never wants you to look at her that way, to view her as a threat, to believe she holds anything other than love. She needs you to understand that she’s nurtured it, even with the distance, more so with the distance, allowed it to grow each day, only ever wanting it to expand and swell and spread within her until she found and could give it to you again.

“Natasha, I’m slipping.” Your voice is trembling. You’re acting skittish. You’re unsure if you should be letting her in, and she can see it in your eyes that you’re debating fleeing. She won’t let you.

One hand reaches out, coming to gently grasp at your wrist, not just as a precaution preventing you from bolting but also securing, trying to offer solace when you need it. You don't have to be alone anymore. Her hand trails up your arm and then pulls you into her by your elbow, firm—it’s decided, you’re coming closer. Her other hand then settles on the small of your back, pushing you forward, pressing you against her body. It’s been so long since she’s really held you.

“What happened?” she asks softly.

“You happened. I couldn’t take the shot. I’ve never hesitated before, but pointing the gun at you just-” you break off, “I’m compromised.”

She hears the critical way you’re talking about yourself, almost derogatory, as if mercy isn’t something to embrace.

“You’re strong. Compassion doesn’t make you weak,” she murmurs.

“No, but sentiment does.”

“You’ve always had emotions when it’s come to me.”

“I don’t know how to turn them off.”

EIGHT YEARS AGO

“I love you, you know.”

It’s spoken into the air. Tranquility around you, and your arm around Natasha. Her head is on your chest, listening to the rhythmic and comforting sound of your heart while your free hand traces patternless shapes on her hip. She thinks she could stay like this forever. It’s hard to want anything else when you’re holding her so delicately, as though her skin, scarred over and roughened, able to withstand bullets, knives, and arrows, can’t handle a little weight from your fingertips.

You didn’t hesitate to say it, to admit that the steady beat she’s listening to is hers.

The room goes still, no tension, no discomfort, but no words follow. There are none. Anything, everything, will fall short. Natasha’s whole world goes still.

You said it first.

You know she feels the same.

PRESENT DAY

You collapse against her.

The sound that comes out of you can only be described as a whimper as you finally, truly give yourself to the woman you love but never let yourself have.

And she holds you like she’s determined to shelter you from the world that has been much too unkind. She touches you like you aren’t tainted by every kill you’ve carried out, and she kisses your temple like you’re worthy of softness despite them all. She murmurs that you’re still a person, and you don’t deserve a permanent target on your back, or to be buried six feet under. She doesn’t just forgive you for all of your wrongdoings, she understands them.

“What do you need from me?”

A teary-eyed smile. “You, just you… and I could use some water.”

“Yeah? I’ll be the one getting it for you from now on.”

[trashywormeateroffics]

i see the light (bucky barnes x female reader)

the gif is not mine!

summary: tony stark decides to throw a valentine’s day party, but the invitation comes with one rule: no date, no entry. when reader shows up to the party with no one by her side and tony doesn’t let her in, it’s up to bucky to find her and make everything better.

a/n: for the hopeless romantics that fear they’re unlovable….

masterlist

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y/n’s pov:

you’re looking at him from across the room. he is so goddamn beautiful you want to punch yourself. or like, kiss him senseless.

“you’re staring again.” natasha tells you. you turn to her and see her smirking.

“i was not- fine i was, but can you blame me?” you admit after she gives you a look with raised eyebrows.

“yeah, i can.” she teases.

“shut up.”

he’s talking to steve, and a small smile is placed on his lips because that’s his best friend. you’re also his best friend, a newer one. he lets out a laugh and you wonder if someone like him would ever even consider something romantic with someone like you. you hate that he does that. that he makes you doubt yourself.

natasha calls your name and you look at her, dazed.

“it’s getting creepy now.”

“what’s getting creepy?” bucky’s voice rings out before you can say something witty to the redhead. you realize he has gotten up from the couch and is now in front of you, with crossed arms. god those arms. you just want him to wrap you up in them forever.

“t-the… the tv show we’re watching.” you stumble over your own words. bucky raises his eyebrows. he knows you’re lying, but thank the gods above, he doesn’t comment on it.

“yeah so… i have to ask steve something about a mission report…” natasha tells you both before she slowly retreats towards where steve is sitting on the couch.

you look at her as she walks, suddenly nervous to be left alone with him. you and your big mouth will spill everything.

“you alright there?” you turn to bucky.

“yeah! peachy.” he tilts his head with a smirk on his lips.

“you’re being weird. weirder than usual.” he jokes. you narrow your eyes.

“alright barnes, watch it.” he grins.

“or what?”

“i will force you to listen to electronic music until the end of time.” he raises his eyebrows.

“you wouldn’t.”

“oh, i would.” he narrows his eyes. you narrow yours. then he breaks out into a breathtaking grin.

“you wouldn’t.” you roll your eyes.

“whatever.”

“so, what are you doing right now?”

“talking to you, unfortunately.” you say dramatically. it’s his turn to roll his eyes.

“hm,” he hums, “and i was just about to ask you if you wanted to rewatch tangled with me. guess i’ll ask romanoff.”

“no!” he smirks. “i mean, like right now i’m not doing anything and nat is talking to steve so…”

“uh huh.”

“whatever james.” you tell him and he sighs playfully. you’re the only one who can call him that. not even steve has that privilege. “your room or my room?”

\\\\

you end up in bucky’s room. something about the tv being bigger. you don’t mind, his room might actually be your favorite place in the whole compound. it’s so full of him.

you’re sitting on his bed and he’s right next to you, a few short inches away from bumping your shoulders together, and you’re very aware of that distance.

he presses a few buttons on the control and the movie starts playing.

“you know, i don’t think i’ve ever met someone who’s constantly rewatching a children’s movie.”

“it’s my comfort movie, old man.” he huffs. “now, shut up. it’s starting.”

the first scene appears on the big screen of bucky’s tv and you both turn towards it.

\\\\

“everyone, gather around. yes, you too capsicle!”

“what is it tony?” steve asks, exasperated, putting the last plates of dinner in the dishwasher.

“as you all know, in four days it’s the day of love. and so, since i am a romantic -peppers words not mine- i’m throwing a party.” tony does a dramatic hand gesture as if anyone in the room would be surprised that he found a new reason to gather people to gawk at him and get drunk.

most team members in the room look excited, but not you. you despise parties in general, but if there was a type of party you hated the most, it was a party thrown by tony stark himself. they were way too loud, way too crazy and there were way too many people you did not know and did not care to anyways. normally you would spend them with bucky, who, right now, was looking at tony unimpressed.

“but, before you all decide what tailored outfit you’ll be wearing…”

“what tony…?” you ask, sighing heavily. nat and clint snort, knowing very well your stance on these celebrations. you feel bucky’s eyes on you.

“everyone has to bring a date. no date, no entry.”

that’s when everybody’s excitement turns to groans of annoyance.

“can’t. laura’s visiting her parents out of town.” clint tells the group. “unless someone wants to use me to get out of finding a date…“

you are about to raise your hand when nat speaks up, beating you to it.

“i’ll be your date!”

fucking hell.

\\\\

for the next couple of days, you try to gather the courage to find a date. or really to very subtly see if bucky has a date and if not- please god, don’t let him have a date- maybe ask if he would be interested in going to the party with you. as friends who are avoiding potential awkward encounters with potential romantic partners, of course.

you had hope until thursday morning.

you are about to enter the gym when you hear steve tell sam that he’s going with bucky as a ~date~, since tony always teases their bromance, and so they wouldn’t really need to find a real date. freaking captain jerk stealing your man. maybe you can ask sam-

“you’re both idiots. you could’ve actually encouraged cyborg to ask you know who and you could’ve finally asked out nancy from HR.” you know who? did bucky like someone?

“but anyways, aside from your dumbassery, im actually quite excited for the party.” oh no. “i’m going with ryan.” oh no no no.

you feel kind of bad for not getting excited for sam, you know he’s been crushing on one of the pretty lab techs for a while now and they’re finally going out. yay! the only problem is that now that sam has a date, you don’t know who else to ask. would it be so bad if you didn’t find a date? tony was probably kidding about the no entry thing, right?

\\\\

wrong.

very, very wrong.

\\\\

friday night comes around and you find yourself doing the finishing touches on your make up. you decided on a bit of an on theme outfit, tiny red hearts littering the white fabric of the dress you’re wearing.

once you decide that you’re done and ready to go, you head for the door of your room in the compound. before you open it to step out into the hallway, you take a deep breath and square your shoulders. you can do it. it’s just a party. it’s just a party.

the more the elevator descends, the louder the noise gets. you take in a shaky breath and blink quickly.

the doors open and you step out. you’re surprised to find tony at the main entrance, welcoming every single person who enters. everyone’s arms linked with someone else’s. your stomach churns a little, but you keep walking.

“hey tony.”

“kid,” he greets you with a grin, but it quickly starts fading in confusion. “where’s your date?”

“uh, no date.” he raises his eyebrows.

“if i do recall correctly-“

“yeah, i know. i didn’t think you were serious-“

“dead serious.” he cuts you off. you stare at him, dreading his next words. “so, i’m sorry y/n. no date, no entry.”

crack. your heart shatters. and if the shattering of your heart isn’t enough, the burning shame you feel is enough to make you feel like you’re suffocating. you need to go. you can’t break in front of people.

mustering all the strength you can, you roll your eyes and smirk.

“whatever tony, i heard there’s a better party happening not that far from here. and the hosts aren’t assholes.” he gasps in fake offense as you turn to leave. your hands are shaking and there are probably marks on your palm from how hard you’re clenching your fists.

“what party?” he asks your retreating figure.

“bye tony!” you say over your shoulder, as playful as you can.

once you’re out of sight in the elevator, you sniffle. very quickly those sniffles turn to choked sobs. you feel so embarrassed and so sad. the thoughts you normally buried come back up to the surface. you will never find love. you’re not one of those people, you don’t get that life. you live alone and you die alone. forever.

\\\\

bucky’s pov:

he hates these parties. and he hates that he’s such a coward he’s here with steve instead of you. he should’ve asked you. but he was too scared; of rejection, of ruining what you two had, of letting himself have something good, something perfect.

he’s at the bar, half listening to what sam, thor and wanda are talking about, and half searching for you. okay, who is he kidding? he is fully searching for you, his teammates’ conversation background noise, like the rest of the party.

after like half an hour, his usual frown deepens. where the hell are you?

he pushes his back off the bar and walks towards nat and steve, who seem to be engrossed in a very competitive game of pool.

“hey, have you seen y/n?”

they both look up.

“um, no. i assumed she would be with you in a corner.” natasha says while steve shakes his head.

“i haven’t seen her yet. i thought maybe you knew where she was.” bucky tells them.

“who is this she we’re talking about?” tony enters the conversation in his dramatic fashion.

“y/n.” the three of them say in unison.

“oh, i didn’t let her in.”

“what?” nat asks. stark rolls his eyes. bucky’s eyes narrow.

“she showed up without a date. you know the rule, no date, no entry.”

“are you fucking kidding me?” his jaw clenches and steve takes a step forward seeing the murderous gaze he’s directing at the nonchalant billionaire.

“nope.”

“you’re an asshole.” nat tells him angrily while steve shakes his head disapprovingly.

“how did she take it?” he asks after.

“like a champ. she laughed and told me there was a better party not far from here where the host is not an asshole.” oh no. you were probably hurt and acted overtly playful to hide it. tony shakes his head in amusement and bucky takes a deep breath so as to not choke the life out of him with his metal arm. he then looks at steve and a silent conversation passes through them. he’s gonna go look for you.

\\\\

y/n’s pov:

after allowing yourself a moment to cry it all out— or as much as you could— while laying in the fetal position on your bed, you decide to get up and change out of your fancy clothes. the idea of ruining the effort you put into your appearance makes another wave of shame and sadness wash over you. you’re so pathetic, you groan to yourself while you furiously try to wipe your tear stained cheeks.

it’s not until you’re in your pajamas and have mostly gotten rid of all your make up that you hear a knock on your door. you stop in your tracks and stand very still. maybe if you don’t answer, they’ll go away.

“y/n?” you freeze. its the only person who could make this better. its bucky. your mouth opens almost involuntarily, about to answer, but you quickly shut it. looking in the mirror, you see that while the make up is gone and your skin is shiny and clean due to the skin care you did moments ago, your eyes are still red rimmed and swollen. he can’t see you like this. “y/n?” he calls again. you’re still staring at your reflection when you hear another set of hurried knocks on the door. “doll, open up. please.”

“pull yourself together,” you mumble to yourself. then, you raise your voice so he can hear you. “one second buck! i’m not wearing pants!”

quickly, you wipe your eyes with freezing cold water and grab some eye drops for the redness. then, you hurry to your bed and sit down, casually. perhaps too casually.

“come in!”

\\\\

bucky’s pov:

“come in!” he does and when he sees you on the bed, safe and sound, he breathes in relief.

“what took you so long?”

“sorry,” you laugh breathily, lightly, “i was watching tv and i wasn’t decent.”

he walks over to the other side of your bed and sits down next to you. he notices the tv is off and narrows his eyes, but before he can reach any conclusions, you speak again.

“what are you doing here? shouldn’t you be at the party?”

“i’m here because i heard about what stark did.” he spits out the name with a clenched jaw. “wanted to see if you were okay.”

you tilt your head and smile so brightly it makes him feel uneasy.

“of course i am. it’s just tony being tony.”

“he was a jerk, doll. don’t let him off the hook.” he tells you. he doesn’t know exactly what, but something is wrong. there’s almost an electricity in the air, the kind that comes before a storm.

“i promise i won’t. tomorrow i’ll kick his ass in training.” you say, chuckling. he opens his mouth to speak but you cut him off without realizing it. you seem to be somewhere far off, even though you are actively participating in the conversation. “i’m thirsty, i’ll go to the kitchen to get a water bottle. you want anything?” you say as you stand up and start walking towards the door.

“i’ll go with you.” you stop your pace and turn around.

“don’t be silly, i’ll be back in less than five.”

and then, in a voice to sing-songey and cheery, you tell him: “don’t miss me too much!”

and then you’re gone, closing the door on your way out.

bucky’s now on high alert, looking around the room for any anomalies. anything out of the ordinary. he looks at the entrance of the bedroom, thinks of you laying comfortably on the bed while watching tv- wait, why is the remote on your couch that’s on the other side of your room? he narrows his eyes, trying to put the pieces together. you said you were watching tv, but when he came in the screen was black. he initially assumed you just turned it off to give him your full attention, but why would you turn off the tv, get up from your comfortable spot on the bed to put the remote on the couch and then resume your position over your comforter like you never even moved? that’s when he sees it. bucky turns his head to the right and looks at the spot you had been occupying before you left. everything seems normal, except… is that smudged make up?

he breathes in deeply. you had been crying. you laid on your side and cried onto your pillow. he was going to kill tony stark.

\\\\

y/n’s pov:

when you open the door to your room, you don’t expect to see bucky holding your pillow almost as if cradling a new born baby.

“buck…?”

he looks up. and you can’t decipher his expression. he seems almost… angry.

“you cried.”

“bucky-“

“he made you cry.” you blink, frozen in place with the door half open. “give me one good reason not to strangle him.” bucky puts down the pillow and gets up. then, slowly, he walks towards you. once he’s arms reach from your frame, his eyes turn pleading. “why did you pretend you were okay?”

your chin wobbles, and you clench your jaw trying to stop it. he notices, of course he does. he always does. and his right arm reaches up to reach you, but you take a step back. the crestfallen expression on his face makes your insides twist. taking a deep breath, you declare:

“i am okay.”

he huffs out a laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“i’m okay.” you say again, harsher this time. upset at his response.

“you’re not. you were crying onto your pillow. i saw the smudged make up.”

“that’s from-“

“don’t lie to me.” he cuts you off. you look at him and open your mouth to spit out another retort but you stop yourself before you can, feeling the warmth of fresh tears on the back of your skull. your eyes find his and your chin starts wobbling again. god, you love him so much. and that’s the problem. he disarms you. you can’t lie to him for long, it’s too painful.

taking a deep breath before speaking, you wipe the one tear that’s already running down your cheek.

“i just… just needed to have a moment. not make a big deal out of it. cause it’s not.”

“it’s a big deal if it’s making you sad.”

“bucky, please. i’m fine now, i already cried. it’s done. just go back to the party and have fun.”

“it’s not done to me.” he tells you, finally moving closer to you and cradling your cheek with his flesh hand. “do you really think i could have fun knowing that my best girl is upset?”

warmth spreads through your chest, to your back, to your arms and hands and the tips of your toes.

“what happened?” he tries again, softly encouraging you to open up with his gentle tone. you swallow.

“didn’t bring a date.” you shrug while more tears begin falling down your face. “it’s so… stupid.” your voice breaks on that word. bucky wipes your tears with both his thumbs now, holding your face in his hands like something fragile, something sacred.

“it’s not-“

“it is.” you insist. “but i still felt so embarrassed.”

“why would you feel embarrassed, sweetheart?”

you shrug again, looking down.

“talk to me, honey…”

“it’s just that… i know that it’s not the center of the universe, that there’s more to life, and i say these things to myself all the time while pretending that i don’t want it, but i do.” your face twists with pain. “and it hurts to know that i’ll never have it.”

“have what? a date?” a sob breaks through your throat.

“no. someone like that. someone that loves you like that.” bucky’s frown turns deeper.

“why wouldn’t you have it?”

“cause i won’t. i’m not- i don’t get that life bucky. no one,” a hiccup cuts you off, “i won’t be loved like that. who would want to spend their life with me?” you ask him, still crying.

you close your eyes and try to breathe deeply. you can’t believe you’ve told him this. this was the one thing you swore you’d take to your grave.

“i would.” your eyes open, wide.

“what?”

“i want to.” he corrects himself.

“you-“

“i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“bucky,” you sniffle and smile softly, “you don’t need to say that. i know you’re trying to be a good friend-“

“i’m not. i’m trying to not be a friend.” you look at him, blinking softly.

“i don’t understand.” you say. bucky takes a deep breath. then, he looks at you, his eyes shining with adoration. he’s still holding your face between his hands and his warmth is starting to seep into your bones.

“i’m telling you that i care for you, as more than a friend. i’m telling you that i’ve been trying to find the right time to say it but that’s actually just been an excuse to be a coward and not do anything about it. i’m telling you that seeing you cry breaks my heart, because i love you, and i want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

silence. your heart cracks open.

“bucky.” you almost whimper.

“sweetheart.”

you look at him. really look. this man has been here for you since you met. he has made you laugh til you cried happy tears, he has held you while watching sad movies, he has watched and rewatched tangled with you even though he knows it line by line just because it makes you happy. he makes you love a sometimes unlovable world. and you love him. god, you love him with everything that you are.

before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his. it’s soft, and quick, and unsure, but its also warm and real and bright. when you pull away, he chases your lips and kisses you properly, more confident, sure, steady.

when you pull away, you don’t go too far, foreheads touching, breathing each other in.

“i love you too bucky barnes. more than anything.” you say breathily and full of tenderness. he grins, full of pride and love.

“i figured, baby.” you let out a laugh.

“you’re impossible.” you tell him, amused.

“but i’m yours.”

“you’re mine.” you nod and kiss him again. and again. and again. forever.

[imnotjustreadingg]

say it to my face

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader (y/n) Genre: Angst - Fluff at the end - Self doubt Word count: 1036 Summary: Bucky and Y/N are dating. Y/N thinks Bucky is actually healing and for some reasons he is, but his mind play with him and the old bad thoughts are still there

Bucky had fallen again into that dark spiral of self-doubt and sadness.

“You wanna break up with me?” you shouted angrily through his locked door. Silence answered you. No footsteps. No apology. No explanation. Just that damn silence that burned more than any fight ever could.

Frustrated, you turned on your heel and stormed into the kitchen, where Steve, Sam, Nat, and Tony sat, their eyes lifting the second they saw your face. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” Steve said softly, standing up. “How does he not get that I’ll never leave him?” you asked, voice trembling not from anger anymore, but heartbreak. “How does he not see that he’s the one for me?”

Steve sighed. “He’s just scared. After everything… he just can’t believe he deserves something good. He thinks he’ll ruin it.” You swallowed hard. Nat looked at you with sympathy; even Tony didn’t crack a joke.

After a few seconds, you straightened your back. “Alright. He wants a breakup?” You forced a sad smirk. “He’ll get a breakup.”

Steve looked alarmed. “You’re not seriously leaving him, are you?”

“Of course not, Steve.” You looked each of them in the eye. “But if he thinks pushing me away is the answer, maybe he needs to see how miserable that idea really sounds.”

There were a few uncertain nods. You turned around and marched back to Bucky’s room. You knocked calmer this time, but firm. No answer. You took a breath and stepped back. You try to hold back your tears, anger begin to rise.

“Fine!” you yelled. “If you wanna break up, at least open this fucking door and say it to my face. Otherwise, I swear Barnes I’m walking away and you’ll never see me again.”

You began to count. “One…”

“Two-” The door flew open.

Bucky stood there, tears streaming down his face, guilt and panic written all over him. His chest rose and fell like he couldn’t breathe. 

“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered, broken.

And in that moment, he didn’t look like a super soldier, or an Avenger, or a former assassin.

He looked like a man who was terrified of losing the one good thing in his life.

Bucky’s POV

He hated himself for this. For pulling away. For the way your voice broke on the other side of the door. For how he was too much of a coward to open it and face you, face the love you so freely gave when he didn’t feel worthy of it.

He sat on the floor with his back against the door, fists clenched at his sides trying to breathe through the storm inside his head.

You deserved someone whole. Someone without nightmares. Someone who didn’t flinch when touched too suddenly. Someone who wouldn’t drag you down into the dark pit he kept falling into.

So, he thought maybe… if he pushed you away first, it would hurt less for you. Give you a chance to escape before he ruined everything.

But when you shouted those words “You wanna break up? At least open this fucking door and say it to my face!” and his heart cracked wide open.

Because he didn’t want that. Not even a little. He realised in that moment.

He wanted you. He needed you. He just didn’t know how to believe he could keep you.

And then you started counting. “One…” His chest tightened. “Two-”

Something snapped. Panic surged through his body like fire. Before his brain could stop him, he was on his feet, ripping the door open like his life depended on it.

And there you were. Eyes full of fire and hurt and love, all at once.

“Please don’t leave me,” he choked out, voice shaking, tears streaking down his face before he even realized he was crying. “I—I didn’t mean it. I just… I thought maybe if I let you go now, it would hurt less for you in the long run. But it hurts me. I don’t want to be without you. I can’t.”

He watched as your expression softened, your anger melting into something gentler—still fierce, but no longer furious.

“I don’t want a breakup, Bucky,” you whispered. “I want you. The real you. Scars, nightmares, metal arm and all.”

And that was when it hit him. Full force. You didn’t back away when he cried. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run. You stood there, looking up at him with tears in your own eyes, voice calm but laced with frustration and hurt.

“You keep saying that I deserve better… that maybe another man could give me that,” you said, your voice shaking slightly. “But seeing your reaction just now? I hope you’re finally able to tell yourself how absurd that sounds.”

Bucky felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. You were right. God, you were right.

He’d said those words a thousand times in his mind. She deserves better. She deserves normal. She deserves someone whose hands are not stained with blood.

But the second he thought he might actually lose you?

He fell apart. Instantly.

“I know it’s stupid,” he whispered, looking down at you, ashamed. “I know it doesn’t make sense. But it’s like there’s this voice in my head that won’t shut up. Telling me I’ll screw this up. That I’ll hurt you. That I’m not enough for you.”

Your expression didn’t waver. You reached up and gently cupped his face, thumb brushing a tear from his cheek.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve, Bucky. I get to choose who I love. And I choose you.”

His eyes closed, and he leaned into your hand, like it was the only anchor keeping him from falling apart completely.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “For everything. For pushing you away. For being too scared.”

You stepped closer, your forehead resting against his.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered. “You’re stuck with me. Forever, if you’ll have me.”

His arms wrapped around you in an instant, like he’d finally remembered how to breathe, how to live.

“I want forever,” he said. “With you. Only you.”

And for the first time in what felt like years, he believed he might actually deserve it.