#But he knew I had a crush on him before all of them

[solxamber]

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

might do a part 2 where a club is chosen

[dissapointu]

Arcane characters with a reader (S/O) who helps them release pent-up energy

Jinx

Jinx paced back and forth, eyes wild, her hands twitching with an urge to break something. She was wound so tightly, it was almost a physical thing. “Can’t think straight,” she muttered, agitated.

You stepped forward, gently cupping her face, guiding her focus to you. “I can help with that.”

Without another word, you pulled her into a heated kiss, her breath catching. It was everything she needed—chaotic and consuming, as your lips crushed against hers. She moaned into the kiss, her hands grabbing at your clothes. She didn’t hold back, letting go of everything in the rush of the moment, her body pressed against yours, losing herself in the intensity. Afterward, she collapsed against you, breathless, but the wildness in her eyes had softened.

“Better,” she whispered, a grin tugging at her lips, “Let’s do it again.”

Vi

Vi’s knuckles were sore from the long day of punching through the thickest of walls, the anger and tension in her muscles refusing to leave. She didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to show weakness, but you knew her better than that. You reached for her gloves, gently pulling them off.

“Vi, come here,” you said softly, guiding her toward you.

She hesitated for a moment before giving in, wrapping her arms around you in a firm embrace. “You really think you can fix me?”

You smirked, “I’m not fixing anything. Just giving you a way to unwind.”

With that, you kissed her roughly, your hands working on removing the layers between you. She didn’t hold back, her hands gripping your body, as if your touch was the only thing that could make her forget the stress of the day. The intensity was palpable, her frustration melted away with every kiss, every touch. As you collapsed beside her afterward, she sighed, her head resting on your chest.

“You always know how to make me feel better,” she mumbled with a soft smile.

Sevika

Sevika was always cool and collected, but there were times when the weight of everything she carried became too much. You could see the tension in her jaw, the sharpness in her gaze as she stormed into the room. Without a word, you met her, gently pulling her into your arms.

“Bad day?” you murmured, your hands gently massaging her shoulders.

She exhaled, her tense muscles slowly relaxing beneath your touch. “You could say that.”

Before she could stop herself, her lips found yours, hungrily kissing you, eager for release. You matched her intensity, each touch sparking a fire. The power she held outside melted away under your hands, and soon enough, all that was left was heat and closeness. Afterward, she gazed down at you with a rare softness in her eyes.

“Thanks,” she whispered, before pulling you back in for one last kiss.

Silco

Silco had been pacing for hours, his mind never at rest. His ambition, his vision for Zaun, it consumed him. But tonight, he didn’t want to think about it. He just needed release.

You approached him quietly, your hand on his arm, pulling him to face you. “You’ve been working too hard,” you said with a knowing smile.

His eyes darkened, and before you could say another word, he claimed your lips with a desperation that was unlike him. His kisses were fiery, urgent, as though he was trying to burn away all the tension that had built up in him. His hands were rough as they roamed, pulling you close. When he finally let go, his body relaxed against yours, the storm in his mind silenced for just a moment.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed that,” he murmured, his voice low and gruff.

Vander

Vander was always the rock of the group, stoic and steady, but even he had his limits. After a long day of keeping the peace in the underbelly of Zaun, he was more than ready to unwind. He came home to you, his shoulders tight with unspoken tension.

Without a word, you reached for him, guiding him to the bed. You kissed him softly, your hands tracing the scars on his broad chest. He let out a low growl, the weight of his day releasing as your touches became more insistent. The heat between you grew, and soon, the only thing that mattered was the way you helped him forget the burdens he carried.

When it was over, he held you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You always know how to make everything right,” he murmured.

Ekko

Ekko was constantly on the move, always tinkering with his tech or working to improve the world around him. The stress from his never-ending work had started to build, and when he came to you, it was clear he needed a break.

“Got a lot on your mind?” you asked, sitting beside him.

He smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, something like that.”

You leaned in, kissing him slowly at first, then deeper. His hands found their way to your waist as he pulled you closer, finally able to release all the pent-up energy. Afterward, he lay beside you, catching his breath, the weight lifting off his shoulders.

“Guess I needed that,” he said with a grin. “Thanks for putting up with me.”

Jayce

Jayce was always the one to push himself further, striving for perfection in everything he did. But the constant pressure left him tightly wound. When you noticed the look in his eyes, the one he got when he was overworked and tense, you knew what he needed.

You moved closer, your hand gently resting on his chest. “Let me help you relax.”

He didn’t need any more convincing. The kiss was fierce, filled with the frustration he’d been holding back. His hands grasped you with an intensity that matched his drive. As the moments passed, his usual composed demeanor broke down, leaving only the raw connection between the two of you.

Afterward, he lay there, breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling. “You’re… amazing,” he said, still trying to catch his breath.

Viktor

Viktor’s mind was constantly racing with ideas, calculations, and the desire to change the world. But even someone as brilliant as him could burn out from all the stress. When you noticed how worn out he was, you gently pulled him into your embrace, offering him a moment of peace.

“Long day?” you asked, your fingers gently brushing through his hair.

He closed his eyes, nodding, and then, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer, he kissed you with a quiet intensity. His hands moved with purpose, but there was a tenderness to them that betrayed his usual composed nature. When it was over, Viktor rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.

“That… that was just what I needed,” he murmured, a rare, soft smile on his lips.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn had been running herself ragged with her duties as a sheriff, always upholding justice and order. The pressure weighed heavily on her shoulders, and you knew just how to help her release that built-up energy.

You caught her in one of her rare, vulnerable moments. “You need a break,” you said softly.

Her blue eyes locked with yours, and without a word, she pulled you into a kiss. Her hands were gentle at first, but as the tension melted away, so did her usual restraint. The kiss turned heated, her body pressed against yours as she let go of everything she’d been holding in. Afterward, she rested her head on your chest, her breath steady.

“That was… exactly what I needed,” Caitlyn whispered, a small, contented smile on her face.

Each of these drabbles explores how the characters from Arcane cope with pent-up energy and stress in their own unique ways, with the reader (S/O) helping them release that tension, sometimes tender, sometimes spicy, and always with a deep connection.

[reysdriver]

Apple Of My Eye | E.M.

You and your coworker Eddie finally do something about your longtime mutual crush when he asks you out after a wild day at work — line cook!eddie x waitress!reader fluff

warnings: customer service nightmares, reader cries over it, I think that's it actually

words: 4.8k

The last thing you heard before shutting the walk-in freezer door behind you was a pan dropping to the floor and Eddie cursing loudly at no one in particular. You sat down with your back against a sack of potatoes beside the vegetable shelf. 

The tears that pricked at your eyes were free to run down your face now that you were in the privacy of the walk-in. It’s always been a good place to cry or scream if you were frustrated at work. 

You were slightly startled by the heavy door opening, but you knew you shouldn’t be; other people worked here too, of course. 

It was Eddie walking in, looking frustrated, though his expression softened when he locked eyes with you. 

“Are you okay? What happened?” He asked, letting the door close as he sat down next to you.

You scooted a bit to make more room for Eddie, but still brushed him off.

“I’m okay.” You sniffled, looking down at your feet. “Don’t you have a whole bunch of orders to fill?”

“You know I’m never too busy for you.” He replied, which earned a smile from you. 

It was a true thing, Eddie would always take the time, even in the busiest of rush hours, to compliment you, or make you a special plate of fries, or just let you know that your makeup had smudged in all the haste. 

He never did it with anyone else, not to the same level, at least. All your coworkers used that as proof that he had a thing for you in the same way that you did for him, but you never believed them. 

“So, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

There he goes, using that nickname that makes your heart soar. Now how could you not answer him after he asked as nicely as that?

“Some asshole got mad at me ‘cause I forgot he asked for no vegetables on his burger. He was calling me dumb and saying I’m a bad waitress and—”

“You’re not.” Eddie told you. “Don’t listen to him.”

 One look at Eddie’s pretty brown eyes told you he was being completely sincere, but you were still upset. 

“He was so mean, and he was kind of right.” You protested. 

Eddie shook his head. “Trust me, he’s not. You’re the only coworker I can stand, so you must be doing something right. Plus you just got your degree, so you’re not dumb.”

“It was community college, Eddie.”

“More than I have. Are you calling me dumb?” He nudged you slightly as he teased, and he was finally cheering you up. 

“No.” You shook your head, a bashful smile starting on your face. 

“Good.” He smiled too, happy that his mission of cheering you up was complete. “Now, I would wipe your tears, but my hands are probably covered in oil so I’m gonna need you to do it for me, okay?”

You nodded and used your index finger to wipe the tears under your eyes and on your cheeks. 

The line cook had his eyes trained on you when you looked up back at him, your eyes still glossy but your spirits higher. 

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better.” You admitted with a soft smile. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Anytime, princess.” He attempted to stifle a groan as he stood up, then stopped before opening the metal door. “I’ll tell Robin to cover your tables for a bit, so don’t worry about getting back to work. You can stay here as long as you want.”

After thanking him again, he flashed you a smile before exiting the freezer room. 

You stayed sitting there, replaying the conversation you just had once over in your head. Once you felt you were composed, you dusted off your clothes and reentered the kitchen. 

Though, as soon as you left the freezer, you could hear shouting coming from the front of house and you knew exactly who it was. 

See, after Eddie left the freezer, when you were busy wiping your tears, Eddie rifled through the receipts to find exactly the guy who made you cry. Not that he needed it anyways, it was obvious who the asshole was when he walked out to the tables and saw some angry looking loser picking at his french fries. 

Now Eddie was in the middle of shaming the man in front of the whole diner. 

Customers had their heads turned to watch the public scolding, and all the staff had paused their duties to stare from the sides of the room as well. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you? You’re a grown man and you can’t even bear to pick some tomatoes off your burger? You need to whine about the lingering taste of fuckin’ lettuce and make your poor waitress feel like shit?!” Eddie shouted at the guy you were serving. “You better give her one hell of an apology, you hear me?!”

The man nodded pathetically, clearly shaken by the cook’s rant. He probably couldn’t muster up an agreement even if he tried. 

Robin, who you had stood next to while watching Eddie chew that customer out, turned to you. She hardly looked flustered at all, since she was used to the diner’s usual activities. 

“And you still doubt that he likes you back.” She whispered with a smugly raised eyebrow. 

Eddie looked around the room for a moment and noticed you were there. With an outstretched hand and a soft voice, he beckoned you towards him and the man at the booth. 

“Sweetheart, can you come over here for a second?” He asked, ever so politely. 

You obliged and walked over to him, holding your breath as the threat of crying again was still there. 

Standing at the end of the table, Eddie’s gaze panned from you to the slightly terrified man sitting down. 

“Now’s the time for that apology, dickwad.” Your coworker gritted. 

The man struggled to look you in the eyes as he stuttered out some words of regret. “I’m sorry— Er, I’m sorry for complaining about the burger and saying all that rude stuff, too. I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you.”

The line cook looked over at you, gauging your reaction. “How was that?”

You nodded and flashed him a tiny smile, then told the customer that you accepted his apology. 

“Good.” Eddie declared. “Now I’ll go make you a plain, boring burger. And if you’re really sorry then this pretty girl better see a damn good tip when you finish your meal, got it?”

The man nodded meekly once again, and Eddie seemed satisfied with that. He walked back on over to the kitchen while you made your way to your other tables, and the rest of the diner resumed eating and conversing—definitely discussing what just happened.

For the rest of his meal, the man was nice to you. Avoidant for sure, but nice nevertheless. And when he paid, he left a whopping twenty dollar tip and left in a hurry. 

Now that the lunch rush was over, you checked the kitchen for Eddie, then Jonathan informed you that he was out back taking a smoke break. 

You thanked him, and headed to the back exit of the building where you knew the cook spent a part of every shift. Sure enough, he was standing right next to the door with a cigarette in hand. 

“Hey, princess,” Eddie said, exhaling a cloud of smoke away from you. “what are you doing back here?”

You smiled at him and fished the twenty dollar bill out of your pocket to display it. “That guy you yelled at left me a pretty nice tip. Here, it’s yours.”

He shook his head and held out a hand to gesture that he couldn’t take it. “No way, you deserve it. Fuckin’ least you should get after having to deal with that asshole.”

You laughed at his dismissal and tried offering again. 

“Come on, you practically mugged that guy to get this money, you have to take it.”

He looked at you with a slight grin, but you couldn’t decide if his expression was that of smugness or entertainment. 

“You can hold out that cash until your wrist falls off, I won’t take your money.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, sincere but still purposefully overdramatic. You put the bill back in your apron and quickly counted out ten ones that you had earned from other tables, then held those out instead. 

“You should at least have half. I can’t let you leave with nothing. If you don’t take it now, I’ll follow you around all day, begging you to take it.” 

Eddie cocked his head to the side and smiled. “As tempting as that is, sweetheart, I can’t steal you away from your job like that. I’ll take that money, but I’ll be spending it on you.” 

Your heart fluttered at Eddie’s flirting, which was far less subtle than usual. You had to bite the tip of your tongue to prevent yourself from grinning ear-to-ear. 

He reached out to take the cash, but he was still grinning mischievously. 

“With my half of the cash, I wanna take you on a date, if you’ll let me.”

Holy shit. You never thought he’d ask. And you had expected even less that he would ask in such a gentlemanly manner. Eddie was the type of guy to accidentally tell his boss to fuck off after coming into work hungover, not use the phrase ‘if you’ll let me’. 

“I’d like that.” You responded, way more chill than you had expected your reaction to be. “Anything you have in mind?”

“You trying to expose the fact that I’ve thought about this before?” Eddie smirked, which in turn caused you to blush even more than before. “What time do you get off work tonight?”

“Seven, and you?”

“Same. We can rent a movie and I can make you dinner at my place?” 

Shit, Eddie thought, I don’t remember the state I left my trailer in. 

He tried recalling how messy he left his home, quickly so he could take back the offer if needed. 

“Yeah, sounds great.” 

Too late now. But as nervous as he was for you to walk into his trailer and see a bunch of dirty dishes and laundry piles, the feeling of glee he felt because you said yes was trumping that a hundred times over. 

“Perfect.” Eddie said, stamping out his burnt cigarette. He opened the door back to the restaurant and held it open so you could go first. “After you.”

“Thanks.” You said, barely able to hide your giddy grin. “I gotta get back to my tables, but I’ll see you at seven.”

You both parted ways with matching smiles, hoping the rest of your shifts fly by faster than usual. For the rest of the day, you seemed to have an extra pep in your step while you waited tables. 

As seven o’clock approached, you passed off all your tables to other coworkers, told Steve and Robin you wouldn’t need a ride home, and headed to the washroom to fix your hair and touch up your makeup. 

Once you were satisfied, you headed to the locker room, where Eddie was standing casually against his own locker. His bored expression morphed into a bright look when he saw you walk in. 

“Hey.” Eddie said as you opened your locker and put away your apron. “Ready to go?” 

You nodded, and he opened the door for you once again. Such a gentleman when he wants to be. 

“So, any movie ideas?” He asked as you both got into his van. 

“Something fun.” You told him. “Maybe something like Ferris Bueller's Day Off or Splash?” 

“Anything you want.”

For the ride over to the video store, you listened to the radio—a station with both pop and rock—and chatted about everything under the sun. 

Once you got to Family Video, you headed towards the comedy section whereas Eddie got distracted by a display of staff picks near the front. He called your name, and you turned around to see him holding up The Texas Chain Saw Massacre with a simper. 

“This can be fun, don’t you think?”

You shook your head. “Not if we’re eating tonight. I’ll throw up everywhere. And that’s not the kind of thing that earns a second date.”

He put it down and walked towards the aisle you were standing in. “So you’re already thinking about a second date, huh?” 

You rolled your eyes and went back to browsing the shelves. Your eyes landed on a familiar favourite, so you grabbed it and held it up to show Eddie. 

“Clue, huh?” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said you couldn’t do murder movies?”

“No, I just said I couldn’t do that one. This one is hilarious and agreeable.”

“Alright. Hand it over, I already promised to pay for whatever you want.”

You give the tape to him like he asked and you both walk over to the cashier, a teenager who looked extremely disdainful about his job. Eddie pulled out some of the cash you had made him take earlier and placed it on the counter. 

Once the transaction was over, you thanked both Eddie and the bored worker, then you headed back out to Eddie’s car. 

“So, what meal are you going to spend the remaining five dollars and something cents on?” You asked him, buckling yourself as he rolled out of the parking lot. 

Eddie always hated his seatbelt, but he put it on after you—’cause of that damn new law they put in last year.

“I’ll put that in my pocket and save it for the next date. I already have all I need for dinner at home.”

You hummed, slightly surprised. 

“What?” 

“Nothing.” You shrugged. “I just wouldn’t have pegged you as a chef outside of the diner. You always seem like you’re done with cooking forever when you clock out.”

“You’ve got me there.” Eddie responds. “I only cook at home when it’s for someone else. When I’m alone, my meals are mostly toast and canned pasta.”

“So who else were you planning on cooking for? You said you have all those ingredients.” That was half teasing, half genuinely curious about Eddie’s personal life. 

“My uncle, actually. I cook him dinner once a week, mostly ‘cause it proves to him that I can eat healthy.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“What can I say?” Eddie shrugged dramatically. “I’m just a sweet guy.”

Once you arrived at Eddie’s trailer, he was relieved to open the door and see that his place hadn’t been left in shambles. The place wasn’t as neat as he would like for a first date—especially one with you—but it was good enough. 

“So, this is it.” Eddie said, arms outstretched like a real estate agent. “You want a tour or is that just for stuffy old people?”

“I’ll take a tour.”

Eddie was kind of hoping you didn’t say that. The trailer was small and he was a little embarrassed. But he supposed it was his own fault for asking in the first place. 

“Alright. Here’s the living room, it’s where I smoke and watch TV.” 

You let out a giggle at the bluntness of his tour. He was glad his joke (half-joke) didn’t fall flat. 

“And you can follow me three feet to the kitchen, which is where I make good meals for others and crap for myself.”

He opened a cupboard full of canned food and snacks for the realtor effect, then did the same with the fridge. He waved a hand near it like a magician showing off a box that no longer contains a woman in a sparkly leotard. 

“We can then move on to the bathroom. It’s got a shower with mediocre water pressure, a pretty average toilet, and a sink that’s covered in toothpaste—don’t look at that, actually.”

You kept walking to the only other real room in the trailer, his bedroom. It was about the size of the kitchen area, and it was very distinctly Eddie. All the walls were covered floor-to-ceiling in posters for metal bands and movies he likes, every surface was covered in snack boxes and ashtrays, and he had one incredibly cool guitar hanging in the middle of his wall. 

After staring at the room for so long that you probably had at least one wall memorised, you and Eddie both realised you hadn’t spoken in a while. 

“This is where the magic happens.” Eddie said, not quite as smoothly as he was going for. 

“The magic?” You teased. 

He thought for a second, then clarified. “Not that kind of magic. I just make music and write Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.”

“That can be pretty magical.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah, but not as magical as the dinner I’m about to make for you. If you’re not excited already, you should start.”

You both left his bedroom and Eddie instructed you to relax in the living room and turn on the TV to something you could use as a backdrop while Eddie cooked. 

While he made dinner, you sat comfortably on his couch and chatted with him from the other room. You got to know each other, more than you do at work. Eddie told you about his band and how they play at The Hideout, you told him about your time at community college and your friends outside of the diner. 

“Alright, soup’s on.” Eddie announced, setting two plates on his kitchen table and inviting you over. “Actually, it’s not soup, it’s chicken parm.”

“I appreciate the clarification.” You sat down in the seat closest to you. “It looks good. Smells amazing too.”

And it really was as amazing as it seemed. Although you were no stranger to Eddie’s cooking, all you’ve ever had made by him was diner food. Of course, the diner food was great, but this was another level. You weren’t sure what set it apart; maybe it was just the quality ingredients and lack of yelling while cooking. 

Once your plate was almost empty, Eddie asked if you wanted dessert too. You were slightly confused as you hadn’t seen him make any dessert to go along with the meal, but you agreed anyway. 

“Did you make dessert?” You asked after he stood up. 

“Nope, but I’ve got all the ingredients, so I can make it now.”

“Oh.” You suddenly felt bad, even though he already offered and went through with making you food. “Well, I don’t want to put you out. We can just watch—”

“It’s okay. I don’t have the ingredients for anything fancy. Just the simple stuff.”

That made you feel a little better. You were still curious, but for a different reason now. What could Eddie make quickly to pair with that fantastic dinner. 

You watched as he pulled out Oreos and gummy worms. Was he making a child’s favourite snack as your dessert?

“What are you planning there?” You asked him. 

Then you saw him open the fridge and pull out chocolate pudding cups, then it all clicked in your head. 

Holy shit. Worms and Dirt. 

That was absolutely not what you were expecting, but it was definitely a welcome surprise. 

“I was thinking about just serving up sliced apples and peanut butter along with some cheesy pick-up line like ‘you’re the apple of my eye’, but I figured that would scare you away.” 

“I don’t think that would scare me away.” You told him. “In fact, I would have found it cute. But I’m happy with the pudding.”

Eddie was quite flattered by that, though he tried hard to not let it show. You could definitely see a blush on his cheeks and the corners of his lips turning upwards, as much as he covered it up.

“You ever had Worms and Dirt?” He asked, opening up the Oreo pack. 

“Yeah.” You answered from your seat at the table while he scraped off the cookie filling. “My mom used to make it for me when I was a kid.”

Eddie stopped preparing the food for a second as he turned and gave you a genuine smile. 

“Me too.” 

After that, Eddie went back to making the dessert, the happy expression still lingering on his lips. 

“I’m almost done, do you want to pop the movie in while I’m finishing up?”

You nodded, then waltzed over to the living room to start up Clue. While the opening credits rolled, Eddie took a seat next to you on the couch and spread out a couple bowls and several pudding cups on his coffee table. 

He handed you a spoon and gestured to the setup in front of you two. 

“I figured we could do like a make-your-own thing, just ‘cause I always find one is never enough, and then you can choose your portions, you know?”

You hummed in agreement. “It’s a pretty good idea.”

Eddie then pointed to the bowl in between the cookie crumble and gummy worms. Inside that one was the creme filling he had just scraped out of the Oreos. 

“Oh, and that’s for you.” 

Just like Eddie earlier, you were super flattered but didn’t want to show your cards. You thanked him for saving you the best part, and then the two of you made your desserts and brought your attention to the movie. 

Somewhere along the way while watching it, you and Eddie had moved from your spots on opposite ends of the couch to meeting somewhere in the middle, wrapped up with each other. 

You were pressed against his side with a hand on his back and an arm around his abdomen. He had his arm slung around your shoulder, and you liked it. He liked it too. And truth be told, you had both pictured yourself before in this exact position—among others. 

As Wadsworth dramatically ran through each murder and event of the night, Eddie subtly looked down to see your entertained expression trained on the TV screen. 

Even though Eddie quite liked the movie you were watching, he liked you more. He was trying to think of a way to make a bigger move on you instead of actually paying attention. 

He was about to do it too. Just as his hands started to wander, there was a knock at his front door that caused you both to back off of each other and turn your heads that way. 

“It’s probably just some kid looking for weed. I’ll be back in a second, you don’t need to pause it.” Eddie told you as he stood up.

“Okay. Hurry up or you’ll miss the ending!” You told him. 

He opened the door and sure enough, it was a kid looking for weed. Some high schooler, maybe seventeen years old. In one hand, he had a couple crumpled bills, and the other one was in his pocket. 

“Someone told me to come here for… stuff.” The kid said to Eddie. 

“Okay, how much do you want?” Eddie replied. 

The boy looked confused, thinking it through. 

“I don’t know.” He finally answered. “I was just told to bring money.” 

“Okay, well I’ve got someone over and you’re wasting my time a little bit. How about you just hand me that money, and I’ll bring you whatever that’s worth?”

“Okay.” 

The kid handed over the cash and Eddie told him to stay at the door while he counted the money and walked over to his bedroom. 

He came out with a small baggie in his hand and flashed you a quick apologetic grin before facing the kid again. 

“There you go. Enjoy.” 

Eddie shut the door behind him and walked back to the couch to sit with you again, just as the movie was wrapping up. 

“I’m sorry about that. I was hoping tonight could go interrupted, but that’s never the case, right?” 

“Yeah, it’s alright. I didn’t know you still dealt.”

The staff at the diner was pretty close-knit, and you had heard lots about Eddie selling drugs in high school, but you had figured that was in the past. You weren’t judging, though. People do what they can to pay the bills—you were both working in a diner at the edge of your crappy town, you know all about that. 

“I don’t really. Just from time to time, I guess.” Eddie shrugged. “Does that bother you?”

“No. Everyone’s gotta do what they can in life. I don’t have a problem, as long as you’re okay with it.” 

“Cool.”

You both just looked at each other for a second, not sure what to say now. Eddie missed the perfect opportunity to make the move he wanted to make on you earlier, and now the movie was over. 

You both silently cursed yourself for not doing what you really wanted to do earlier, but the mood was interrupted by a kid at the door wanting to get high. 

Although you wanted to stay at Eddie’s place for longer, you knew the night was coming to a natural end. 

“I should probably get home soon. I have work in the morning.” 

Eddie was mentally kicking himself for not doing anything earlier, but he definitely wasn’t going to try and convince you to stay since he was aware how that could make him seem. 

“Yeah, okay. I can drive you home.” He stood up and grabbed his car keys from the counter. “You know, Steve’s probably already getting his beauty sleep or something.”

You thanked Eddie and strolled over to him, who was holding the door open for you. 

The two of you walked out to his van, and you slid into the same seat where you had begun the evening. Eddie sat down next to you and flashed you a quick smile before starting the car. 

The ride back to your place was, for the most part, quiet and awkward; it was a sad change from the chemistry you were feeling just an hour ago. 

When you arrived back home, Eddie stopped the car, but you spoke before you got out and the night would be officially over. 

“Thanks for tonight, Eddie. I think we should do this again.”

He looked flustered for a moment. It was no more than a second, but you caught it anyway.

“Well, thanks for saying yes, sweetheart. Are you doing anything Sunday?”

“I have a shift in the morning, but I’m done by the early afternoon.”

“Perfect.” Eddie smiled. “I’ll think of something for us to do then.”

You unbuckled your seatbelt as you badly masked a grin. 

“Okay. It’s a date.”

Eddie opened the door on his side, and so you followed suit. 

“You want me to walk you back?” Eddie offered. 

You stood a foot and a half away from Eddie beside his van and looked back to your apartment building. 

“Steve and Robin are probably pressed against the peephole right now, so I don’t know.”

Eddie ran his hand through his hair and shook his head amusedly. “Ah, I see. You’ve already got people looking out for you?”

You hummed, biting your lip softly. 

“So…” You trailed off. 

“So?” Eddie raised an eyebrow. 

That’s when you finally took your chance. You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Eddie’s cheek, just by the corner of his mouth. 

You backed away, and Eddie seemed flustered but happy, so you knew it went well. 

“Thanks again. I’ll see you at work, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie said quietly. “See you.”

It wasn’t often that Eddie flustered like that. Usually he was calm and collected, or at least yelling, if we’re talking about being in the kitchen at the diner. But very rarely did Eddie blush, and that’s exactly what he did after you kissed him. 

He guessed that it made a lot of sense that you could be the one to make him feel things that no one else can. 

Eddie watched as you walked over to the front of your building and gave him a wave before going inside. His thoughts were moving so fast, he can’t even remember if he waved back. Damn, he hopes he waved back. 

Then, as soon as you were inside and you were both out of each other’s sight, Eddie had to let out his excitement. He took a step out and threw his head forward, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

He stopped the moment he realised you might be able to hear him, and quickly went back into his van. Then he started shouting inside the privacy of those metal walls. 

Eddie was really excited about seeing you tomorrow. 

Little to Eddie’s knowledge, you were just as excited as him, if not even more.

[mrsriddlenott]

~Teach Me, Please~

Bsf!JJ Maybank x Innocent!Reader

Warnings: oral(m&f receiving), bit of a handjob, praise kink, spit kink, innocent reader but she’s lowkey in control, reader kinda gets bullied in the beginning but not directly. Not proofread.

{masterlist}

————

“She’s like their little sister,” you heard the kook girl you didn’t recognize laugh as she spoke about you, “She follows them around like a groupie, JJ most of all. It’s like she doesn’t know what to do with what she has, I would be flirting non-stop if I was with him as much as she is. JJ is absolutely delicious.”

“I think they’ll always be just friends,” her equally annoying friend giggles, the pair clearly not noticing you behind them or simply not caring, “I mean look at how innocent she is, I doubt she would know how to please him if she had the chance. She has literally never had a boyfriend, she probably has never given head in her life and JJ gets around a lot he has plenty of better options. Hell he probably doesn’t pay enough attention to even notice her raging crush on him anyway. You should definitely go for it tonight, I’ve heard he’s good.”

You huffed, stomping off back towards the couch you had left JJ on. What annoyed you the most wasn’t the shit talking, you knew people talked, especially kooks who somehow had nothing better to do. What hurt was the accuracy. Despite being the same age as your fellow pogues, and knowing JJ and JB since the third grade, you were still very much innocent. Especially when compared to your ragtag group of friends.

You knew they didn’t mind, they all loved you no matter what. Kie helped you as much as she could but it was pointless, you just didn’t know how to be as laid back as them. You had fun and loved to party as much as they did, but you still preferred a nice night in with a movie. And while part of you used to worry you held them back, they made sure you knew you could always come to them. So when you saw JJ wave you back over with a questioning look in his eyes you knew you could ask him to help you with anything.

And your crush on him had totally and absolutely nothing to do with that decision.

“Will you teach me how to give a blowjob?” You blurt out, dropping onto the couch infront of JJ’s outstretched arm as though everything was normal. He gagged on the gulp of beer he’d just taken before looking to you with wide eyes, trying to decipher if he heard you properly.

“What’d you jus’ say?” His voice was breathless as he wiped his face of spilt beer, your eyes tracing the droplets that escaped down his neck.

“I want you to teach me how to give good head.” You stated, stretching the words to make your intentions clear. You watched JJ’s eyes bounce between your eyes and lips, the gears in his brain working overtime to decide if you were joking or not.

“Like- uh.” JJ starts, his voice strained while he needlessly wipes his mouth again, spreading his legs on the coach and making room for himself and letting his knee touch yours, “Like on what though.” He arches his eyebrow to look at you, not wanting to be presumptuous but wanting nothing more than to help you directly.

JJ would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you like that a million times. He wanted you, he just never admitted it out loud because he thought you deserved better. He messed around and acted out while you and John B cleaned up after him but over the years he started to notice a distinct difference in his feelings for Jonh B compared to those he had for you. However, he decided long ago he wouldn’t act on any of them unless you did first, he couldn’t risk ruining you because you were just so good.

“On you Jay, come on don’t make me feel weird about it.” The whining tone of your voice makes JJ bite his lip, unsure if this was ethical. JB would surely frown upon this and Kie would probably kill him for corrupting you. But he was having a hard time fighting the urge now as you looked up to him with pleading eyes.

“Well I don’t wanna take advantage of you or anything, y’know?” He stutters over his words slightly as he fumbles to find anything to say, making you giggle in that way he loves so much. You had never once seen JJ flustered or worried about a girl asking to suck him off and you honestly couldn’t believe it was you who got that honor.

“But I asked you to show me JJ, I want you to teach me.” You beg him, turning your body on the couch to face him fully, placing a hand on his exposed bicep.

And his resolve snapped.

He tossed his half full beer can aside as he stood, not caring where it landed. His hand took your own hand, gently but assertively pulling you up with him. He held onto you tightly, not wanting to lose you while weaving through the crowd in the Chateau making the way to the bedroom he made his. You caught sight of the first kook girl in passing, noticing the way she tried to catch JJ’s eyes only to be ignored. Her face contorted in surprise and disgust while you laughed softly before JJ was yanking you into his room and locking the door behind you both.

“C’mere,” JJ instructed, waving two fingers towards him. When you turn to him he’s facing away from you, grabbing a pillow from the top of his bed and tossing it on the floor at his feet. The bed creeks from his weight flopping onto it, manspreading while watching your slightly shocked and confused face, unable to hide his smile. “Come on, y’wanna learn or not.”

Your legs carry you to him, anxiously messing with the hem of your dress now that you can make out the bulge in his shorts. “Are you sure you want to do this?” His voice draws your gaze back to his and you can see the excitement whirling behind his blue eyes dropping you to your knees carefully, leaning into the comfort of his pillow.

“Thanks for the pillow,” You whisper, locking eyes with him from between his legs, “I didn’t know guys did that, I’ve never seen it in the porn I watch.”

“You watch porn?! Oh my god this keeps gettin’ better.” JJ groans with a smile, knocking his head back and letting you watch his adam’s apple bob, “I’ve never done it before, I just didn’t want you to bruise your knees.”

“Good to know I’m special.” You laugh awkwardly, wiggling with excited and nervous energy where you leant before him. He released an airy laugh above you, looking down at you again, his pupils dilated.

“You have no idea,” JJ’s voice was breathless and his words caught in his throat slightly, “Do you wanna get started on our lesson Princess?” JJ asked teasingly, running his fingers down your warm cheek, stopping to lift your head up by your chin. You nodded, shell shocked as you stare up at him unable to force your mouth to form words.

“I need you to tell me,” He whispered, leaning forward slowly until his lips ghost against yours, “If I’m going to finally corrupt you I need you to ask Cupcake.” Your eyes fluttered shut, taking in his scent as your heart rapped against your ribcage.

“I want you Jay….T-to teach me, please.” Your eyes flick open just in time to catch a wicked grin spread across his face before your cheeks were cupped in his warm palms, tugging your lips into his in a heated kiss. Your sighs mingle together, finally exploring what you both silently desired for so long. His tongue danced across your bottom lip asking for entrance as you gasped letting his tongue fight yours, forcing a moan from you that vibrated against his lips. He pulled away slowly, spit connecting you for a second before you’re licking your lips subconsciously. JJ observes your furrowed eyebrows and the redness flooding over your skin as your eyes stay closed in obvious pleasure.

“Still with me Gorgeous?” JJ asks, tapping your cheeks lightly, smiling excitedly as he watches you look up at him. His painfully hard erection rubbed against the zipper of his shorts as he adjusts his hips. Leaning back and resting his weight on his forearms, his crotch looming in front of you, your wide eyes telling him you have no clue how to start this. “Put your hands on my knees,” He instructs, shivering under your touch when you listen immediately, your cool hands resting against his steadily warming skin, “Good girl, now I want you to slowly move them up, like you’re not sure you want to take my pants off yet, tease me y’know?”

Your breath hitches at his praise, and he notices. You whimper as you try and follow his instructions drifting your hands across his broad thighs and letting your fingers tease under the fabric of his shorts, “You like being my good girl don’t you?” He asks, his voice teasing only slightly, his breathy voice making your thighs clench, rubbing them together desperate for friction.

“Yes, I do,” His eyes immediately catch onto the movement of your thighs, biting his lip while he watches you wiggle in front of him. He twitches in his shorts at the thought of you getting off to his pleasure, moaning loudly when he takes your hand in his pressing your palm directly into his bulge. Using his larger hand to move yours to perfectly cup around him and uses your palm moving it against his shaft as he swallows, desperately trying to collect himself.

“K-keep doing that until you’re ready,” He sighs, letting you continue at your own pace, moving his hand up to your hair to fix it, not wanting it to fall into your face as he watched your features for signs of distress, “When you want to unbuckle my belt and-“ He gasps cutting off his sentence when your fingers immediately jump to hastily undo his belt. Your shaking hands struggle for a few awkward seconds before you’re tugging his shorts down his thighs exposing his black boxers. JJ lifts his hips to let you discard his shorts fully, tossing them aside as you stare into his eyes triumphantly, “Good girl.”

Your wide smile as your hands tease their way back up his naked thighs just as he taught you has him reeling, practically shaking with excitement. “You like being praised, don’t you Mama?” He asks, tugging his lip between his teeth when your fingers find his cock again. He tugs your hand upward, moaning when he presses your hand into his tip, stopping your movements entirely until you respond.

“Yes Jay.” You whine, your tone impatient as you wiggle your hand under his, making him release a breathy moan laced with a laugh as he releases your hand, letting it continue it’s excited exploration of him. Your free hand started to sneak it’s way up his body, making him jolt forward as your cold hand found it’s way into his shirt.

“Who do you wanna learn this for?” JJ blurts out, not entirely wanting to hear the answer as he tugs his shirt over his head impatiently. Closing his eyes as your nails dig their way back down his chest, part of him wondering how you knew he’d like that.

“Myself.” JJ feels the smile grow back on his face, relief flooding his body as he opens his eyes, locking onto your wide gaze looking up to him expectantly. You want his instructions, and he wants to draw this out.

“So there’s no one in that precious mind of yours right now?” He asks, letting his eyes fall down your face, gazing at your wet lips before eyeing your cleavage and wiggling hips. Trying to suppress that part of him that wants you to stay here like this forever.

“Well,” You giggle, palming him through his boxers just over his tip, loving the way his head falls back with a moan when you apply more pressure, “Right now I have you on my mind Jay.”

“Fuck, you have no idea what that does to me,” He smiles towards the ceiling, imagining all the times he came in his hand to this exact scenario, “I thought you were too good for me, why’d ya ask me?”

“Some girls at the party were talking about me, calling me your groupie and saying I wouldn’t know what to do with you if you ever gave me the chance, and I really wanted a chance.” You sigh, drifting your hand down his toned abs to tease the elastic of his underwear, letting it snap against his skin as your excited eyes find his again.

“Oh Princess,” he cooed caressing your cheek, “You have always had the chance. You were the first girl I ever imagined doing this for me.” His eyes went wide when he realized what he had said, almost backtracking before you interrupted him to speak.

“Good, because I can’t imagine anyone else teaching me, I trust you, I want it to be you.” You state simply, locking your eyes in his gaze and taking not of the hitch in his breath. In a spurt of confidence you’re tugging his boxers down his thighs, eyeing his thick, throbbing cock as it bounces free, eyes meeting his again in a beg, “Tell me what to do Jay.”

“First give the tip a kiss Baby,” You do as your told, touching your lips against his hot, red tip as it leaks precum onto your lips, “Mmm, fuck now get your tongue nice and wet and lick up the middle, when it feels right slide my tip against your tongue n’suck on it like those Cherry suckers you’re always begin’ me for.”

You laugh, suddenly feeling more and more confident as you watch him come undone above you. “Is that what you want Jay? Or are you goin’ easy on me?”

“If you think you can take me in one go do it Princess, but don’t think I’m pressuring you,” He sighed, watching your tongue wet the side of his pulsing cock, “I want you to go at the pace you’re comfortable with.”

You smile up at him as you separate from him, letting spit coat your tongue before moving to lick up the prominent vein popping out of the other side of his cock. He groans above you, subconsciously moving his hips closer to your mouth in uncontrollable excitement. As your lips caress against his red, leaking tip you slowly let spit drip from your lips onto him, watching as it drips down him and pools in the bit of trimmed hair at his base. His eyes pop from his head when you bring your hand up to spread your saliva over him, pumping your hand slowly and twisting it like you’d seen in videos. You watched his furrowed eyebrows, buying yourself time to work up enough spit in your mouth to take him fully. His lips tug into his teeth as his hips stutter upward into your hand.

“Where did you learn to do that?” JJ gasps, stuttering and twitching in your wet hand.

“Porn.” Your sickly sweet voice has him moaning and tugging at your hair, forcing you’re eyes up to his.

“You’re so fucking perfect.” He states before slamming his lips into yours, moving you back by your hair wrapped around his fist. You gape up at him wide mouthed, your hand speeding up when his eyes bounce between your open, drooling mouth and your blown out eyes as though asking for permission. You nod your head to him, not sure what he wanted to do but okay with it nonetheless. His free hand jumped to your chin, tugging your mouth open wider before leaning down and spitting directly onto your tongue. Rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you moan you shiver in front of him at the feeling of his spit mixing with yours, unknowingly helping you in your previous goal.

JJ chuckles at your reaction, moaning slightly when your hand speeds up again. You savior the feeling of his spit in your mouth for a second, your eyes latching onto his as you smile wickedly. JJ only takes a second’s pause before his eyed widen watching your mouth dip lower, his fingers subconsciously tightening in your hair, moving his other to grip the bed and ground himself. Breath fills your lungs from your nose, prepping yourself before teasing his tip with your tongue for only a second before you slowly slide him into your mouth. His hips jolt forward subconsciously, shuddering breathlessly when your eyes meet his over your lashes again. JJ curses under his breath, watching you take almost every inch of him in one go, sliding your head down his shaft, resting your hand at his base when you can’t fit anymore.

JJ moans loudly when you swallow around him, jerking his hips into you desperately trying to control himself, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cut him off quickly, shoving your head as far down as you can go, feeling his tip twitching in the back of your throat as you gag around him. You pop your head up, dragging your tongue against the underside of his shaft, moaning at his taste and sending vibrations through him. You suckle on his tip, preparing yourself as you gasp for breath around him. You start to bob your head up and down him, swirling your tongue as you go dropping low enough to feel his pubes tickle your cheeks, his hands moving to the back of your head to tug your hair into his fingers.

“You’re a natural,” JJ sighs, “Feel like imma cum already Gorgeous, fuck.” Gazing up at him you watch his eyes try and stay open, try to maintain eye contact until they flutter shut when the tip of your tongue grazes his ballsack unintentionally. JJ subconsciously pushes your head down, pulling a moan from you as he groans into his bitten lip, hooded eyes watching you intently now as he tugs you off of him with a pop. His hand stays in your hair, his eyes watching the way your spit dribbles down your chin, mixing with your lipstick and contrasting the black mascara running down you cheeks.

“I want you to try something, but only if you’re comfortable okay?” You nod to him desperately, ignoring the fact that your hair’s probably a mess in his hand, “Flatten out your tongue f’me,” His voice was demanding but soft still, a side of him you had never seen before beginning to come forward, “Yea, good girl just like that,” He says as he watches you stick your tongue out for him, spit dripping down the middle and directly onto is erect cock, “Now lean down and suck on my balls Sweetheart.” Your eyes went wide watching how he bobbed infront of your face. “If you don’t want to that-“

A shiver runs down his spine and directly into his rock hard cock when your warm tongue drags against his heavy sack before you suck one into your mouth, his hand tugs into your hair harder instinctively as he shudders. His shaft twitches against your face, your tongue swirlly against his salty flesh, tugging off him with a pop. You look up to him, makeup dyed spit dripping off your chin and down your chest, “Like that?”

“Yes yes just like that,” He gasps, desperation laced in his tone, immediately making you drop your head back. Sucking his other tight ball into your mouth, swirling your tongue while he shakes you slowly move your hand that was supporting your weight on his knee under your dress, circling your clothed clit with two fingers. Moaning around him as your eyes flutter shut feeling the wet patch seeping through your underwear.

“Open your eyes and look at me,” JJ growls when he catches your hands movement, his hand caress your face gently contrasting his hard tone. Despite wanting to listen your eyes stay shut as you speed up your fingers movement, “Thought you said you liked being a good girl, now listen to me.”

Letting your eyes flicker open you feel your cheeks heating up even more when you catch his gaze. His blue eyes only egg you on further, your fingers speeding up subconsciously while he stares at you with a smile. Breathing through your nose you continue your mouths exploration of him, popping your mouth off of his flesh only to immediately suck his tip into your mouth again. JJ’s hand tugs your hair into a ponytail as you bob your mouth on him, his tip hitting your throat each time making you gag and moan on him. The vibrations of your noises make his hips jolt uncontrollably, his body and dick twitching together as your spit pools on his groin and slips down his thighs.

He releases a loud needy groan when you force your mouth off him, his hand falling from your hair and clutching the blanket below him, mumbling incoherently while trying to ask why you stopped. He whines loudly gasping and gripping the bed so hard his knuckles turn white when you drag your wet tongue from the middle of his ballsack directly to his tip. Moaning when he twitched against your face, sucking him into your mouth while you eye his adam’s apple bobbing. Sensing he was close you stop your fingers with a whine around him, moving in order to move your hands to support yourself on his knees as you suck your cheeks in. You drag your mouth down his shaft and JJ whimpers, shoving his hand into your hair and tugging as he cums down your throat, filling your mouth as you moan.

“Fuck I’m so sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, do you need’ta spit?” He asks, trying to ignore the tingle running down his spine at the sight of his cum dribbling past your lips.

“It’s okay,” You state simply licking your lips clean, the sweet tone in your voice not changing despite the more than inappropriate circumstances, “Your cum tastes so good Jay, look I swallowed it already.” You stick your tongue out to him, showing what little residue remains as he groans above you again.

“If you need anymore lessons, you can always, and i mean always, come to Papa Jay.” His breathless voice makes you laugh as you hop up to sit next to him on the bed.

“Do you wanna take my virginity too.” The burst of confidence making him cum gave you almost wears off at the look of shock that grows onto JJ’s face.

“Damn Mama, you are so fucking bold tonight, you have no clue how many times I have imagined you asking me that.” He smiles at you, his large ring clad hand gripping your thigh as it sits beside him, “Wanna tell me how long you have been fantasizing about your best friend poppin’ your cherry?”

“Forever.”

“Mmmhmm, that’s what I wanted to hear.” JJ groans, pulling your thighs apart and shoving you backwards letting your dress ride up. He rolls over you, settling over you where you lay on his bed, framing your face with his arms. “I think it’s your turn right now though don’t you?” Shivers run down your spine at his tone, subconsciously trying to rub your thighs together earning a teasing laugh from JJ. You brace yourself on his waste, tugging him closer to you as his lips crash into yours, tongues immediately starting to fight for dominance only for him to win with a groan.

“We should save your first time until there’s not a dozen people right outside the door.” Lowering his voice to a whisper as he lightly digs his hips into you, “And I think we need to have a conversation before we….move forward.” Letting his lips graze your neck as he keeps going he smiles at your gasps of appreciation, “But don’t think I don’t really, really want to right now.”

JJ’s teeth tug at the spaghetti strap string of your dress as he crawls lower down your body, letting it snap back against your skin with a sigh, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, so perfect I can’t even look at you sometimes.” The warm feeling of his tongue against your collar bone has you bucking against him desperately, hissing when his teeth nip at the exposed flesh of your breast.

“I love when you wear this dress,” JJ moans against your skin, his head falling low enough to push his face into your chest for a few seconds, wiggling it around dramatically, making you laugh before be continues his decent, “I don’t wanna take it off.” He groans, biting at your flesh through the fabric.

“Then don’t.” You say breathlessly, smiling down to him as you tangle your fingers into his hair. He smiles back to you, quickly pushing himself down the bed the rest of the way so he was face to face with your exposed thighs. With a quick flick of his wrists he flips the hem of your dress up, exposing your damp matching underwear.

“You matched your underwear to your outfit? That’s so cute.” JJ groans, dipping his head to bite at the flesh of your thigh as his hands slowly work their way up your thighs. He pulls back, watching intently as he slips his fingers past the lace hem of your underwear, tugging them down as you lift your hips to help. You watch him as he tosses your underwear behind him, his eyes meeting yours for a second seeking consent as he shoves your thighs further apart, putting you completely on display for him. JJ licks his lips as he eyes you, moving his hands slowly under and around your thighs resting them on his shoulders before shoving your hips down with his large palms. He groans loudly as he bites into the flesh of your thigh beside him, slowly licking his way to your center and leaving a wet trail behind.

His hands hold your hips down hard as they jolt upward with your moan and laughs into you happily. Eyeing the way your head falls back, your chest rising and fallen he quickly speeds up his tongues pursuit of your clit. Watching you as one hand hangs above your head and the other plays with his hair, JJ can’t think of anything that looks better.

“Oh my god,” You yell, the feeling of his tongue flattening against you, slowly licking back and forth over your clit before quickly sucking it into his mouth. You scream a moan at the sensation, tugging at JJ’s hair aggressively not caring if anyone outside the door can hear your pleasure. “Do that again Jay.” JJ’s lips pop off of you into a smile, his lips glistening with your release before he drops his head back into you. Flicking his tongue aggressively against you as he licks up your slit, groaning at the feeling of your nails against his scalp when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. JJ can feel himself growing hard against the blanket at your taste, your shaking legs egging him on as your release quickly approaches.

The feeling of JJ’s tongue prodding at your entrance as you clench on nothing has the tightening feeling in your abdomen worsening, making you whine and wiggle your hips subconsciously. The grip of JJ’s hands on your hip tightens, his nails digging into your flesh as he grinds himself into the mattress at your excitement. He plunges his tongue into you, collecting your juices on his tongue with a desperate groan, his eyes flickering shut as he moves to flick his tongue against your puffy clit again. JJ pulls back quickly making you whine and tug at his hair, trying to shove him back into you and forcing a wicked laugh from him as he spits directly onto you and dives back in. You shudder when he starts to lap against you wildly, your hips jolting and your back arching, your hands tugs on his hair harder as you cum, the almost painful band in your abdomen breaking in a euphoric release. Moaning so loudly you know for sure anyone close enough to the door could hear but you didn’t care as you came undone on your best friend’s tongue, breath shaking as your body twitches.

JJ’s tongue slows, pushing himself up to get a better look at your post orgasm face, your eyes unfocused and your mouth open in gasping breaths. He slowly crawls up your body, smiling in your face and you smile back at him the best your can, he groans at the sight of your sweaty cheeks, your hair sticking to your forehead as he smash his lips into you. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue as you both moan into each other.

——————

I might wanna do a part 2 of this for their first time, would anyone be interested in that?

Another Lesson? (Coming Soon)

[finelinevogue]

you need to calm down

summary - a collection of moments before you and harry go to the eras tour

[ sat in my drafts for FAR too long ]

word count - ~1.5k

pairing - husband!harry x reader

🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩✨🪩

It started by fighting for your life to get tickets.

Only to lose the great war.

You’d been in bed all day since you had attempted to get Era’s Tour tickets this morning. You were trying to get tickets for you and your friend - now ex-friend - only to find out she’d already agreed to go with someone else when you couldn’t get yours, leaving you both ticketless and friendless.

You were scrolling through your phone to see how many fans, that you followed on social media, managed to get tickets.

That was when your boyfriend came home.

“Y/N/N? I’m home!”

Harry always called out the same phrase whenever he stepped through the front door. Sometimes, he might have just been washing your car and he’ll announce himself again.

It was very comforting to have the little routine though.

“I’m up here!” You shouted back.

“Okay, one minute!”

You tried to hype yourself into behaving like a normal person, who wasn’t entirely crushed by not getting tickets to your favourite artist.

You sat up in bed and tried to make yourself look a little less distraught.

Harry walked into your shared bedroom a couple minutes later with a gift bag.

“Is that for me?”

“Wh… Not even a hello?” He pretended to be offended, whilst he rounded your side of the bed to sit next to you.

“I’m sorry. Shitty morning,” You smiled papologetically, “Hi.”

He graciously accepted your kiss that you offered as an apology.

Harry’s hand cupped your cheek afterwards, eyebrows furrowed as he searched your eyes for something.

“What was shitty?”

“I didn’t get Taylor tickets.” You frowned, but pretended to pass it off as nothing even though Harry knew you well enough to known it wasn’t.

“Hmm. I’m sorry, baby. That must’ve been horrible.” He kissed your cheek after letting it go.

“It was.” You flopped back on the bed.

“Wanna see what I got?”

“Sure.”

Harry reached into the bag and pulled out a t-shirt. It was a plain white T but you could see it was going to have a print on the front of it.

Harry unfolded it and smiled as he did, watching your reaction rather than the looking at his gift.

You were confused when you saw the print on the t-shirt, though.

In my swiftie boyfriend era.

And it was in the style of the t-shirt that Taylor wears for the Red portion of the Eras Tour.

You laughed, “Nice.”

“You like it?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. ‘Cause it’s what i’m going to wear when we go to the Eras Tour.” He smirked then, knowing that would prompt a reaction.

“What?!” You sat up quick.

“What?” Harry pretended to play dumb.

“Harry…” Your lips wobbled and eyes teared up as you processed his sentence.

“Are you upset you’ll have to go with me?” He smiled sympathetically at your tearful face.

“You actually got us tickets?”

“Yeah.”

You lunged for Harry then, tackling him down on the bed and pressing a kiss every 2 centimetres across his face.

You were both laughing, whilst you also crying happy tears, and Harry let you assault him with kisses as much as your heart was content. He did deserve them after all.

•-•

A week before the concert you were panicking.

“I don’t have a suitable outfit!”

You were running between your closet and your bedroom to show Harry possible options.

Currently you were in a sage green bralette and matching panties, in between changing outfits.

You came to stand at the foot of the bed, whilst Harry lay on your bed against the headboard and scrolling through his phone every few minutes for outfit inspiration.

“I like that outfit.” Harry said, smirking.

You picked up a rogue t-shirt that was on the bed, balled it up and threw it at him. “You’re disgusting.”

“What?! I’m just saying you look really good!” He defended himself.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms.

Harry put his phone to the side, stretching his arms behind his head and leaving them to rest there. In doing so, the muscles on his bare chest flexed and made you weak at the sight.

In only his boxers, Harry knew exactly what he was doing but so did you in your lingerie.

“So I should just go to the Eras like this?” You asked, unfolding your arms, bending slightly to press your hands onto the bed in front of you.

“Sure.” Harry said, less confident now.

“You’re okay with me parading around with little to nothing on,” You leant forward to allow yourself to crawl onto the bed, slowly moving forwards towards your awaiting boyfriend, “Showing off to everyone what’s yours.”

Harry tried his best not to move, but he didn’t have that much restraint.

Next thing you knew he had tackled you down onto the bed and rolled on top of you.

You breathed heavily as you awaited what he’d do next.

“Show off to anyone you like, babe, because at the end of the day I’m the only who actually gets to call you mine.”

And he started by kissing you, which made you forget all about your outfit dilemma for… well the rest of the day.

•-•

It was Eras day and you were so not ready.

You and Harry had taken the entire day off because you wanted a full swiftie experience and Harry would do anything to keep you happy.

You started getting ready in the afternoon, seeing as you didn’t need to be at the venue until 3PM and you lived only half an hour away.

Harry was currently ironing his trousers and tshirt, whilst you focused on your makeup.

“Babe?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“Remind me to bring that extra bag of bracelets.”

“It’s by the front door already, love.”

“M’kay!”

You bopped along to your Taylor playlist whilst applying some gems to your eyes to bejewel yourself. You had one opportunity to make this the greatest swiftie experience of you life and you were taking it.

You’d decided to go for a general western theme for your outfit, seeing as you loved all the eras too much to choose one.

The bohemian inspired dress you were wearing was white and you had your beaten brown cowboy boots to go with it. So your accessories had to make up for your plain’ish outfit.

The gems you were applying were silver to match your sliver jewellery.

Harry then appeared behind you in the mirror.

He stood there and smiled at you for a few moments.

“What?” You blushed.

“You look so pretty.” He said, admiring you through the mirror.

“You think?”

“I know.”

He came up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and kissing your neck.

You closed your eyes as you enjoyed this moment.

Just you and Harry enjoying each others presence and being so close to one another was a feeling second to none.

As you closed your eyes you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else in this moment but him.

“I love you.” He whispered against your neck, causing you to goosebump everywhere.

“I love you too.”

You turned to look at him, before leaning in to kiss him like he deserved.

He welcomed the kiss, cupping the back of your neck to keep you there, kissing him, for a few extra seconds than you’d intended.

When he pulled back he checked to make sure he’d not ruined your makeup.

“Put some gems on me?” He asked.

You smiled, “Okay.”

Harry moved to sit on the toilet lid, whilst you got your self-adhesive gem stickers ready.

You stood in between his legs, Harry gripping the back of your thighs to keep you there as if you’d just slip away otherwise.

“What colour?”

“Don’t know. Whatever you think is best.” He leaned forwards to kiss the bare skin between your bra and your sports leggings.

“Behave.” You warned, pushing his head away.

“I can’t when it comes to you.” He smirked up at you.

You blushed, can’t believing that he still made you blush even after all this time, before grabbing the gems and getting to work.

You applied some silver ones, the same as yours, to the corner of his outer eyes. “Just two?”

“Yeah, thank you baby.”

“Now you look so pretty.” You kissed the top of his head like he was your baby.

“Thank you.” It was his turn to blush.

“Now give me ten more minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Okay.” He stood up, leaning down to give you a parting kiss.

•-•

Just before you left the house, you made sure Harry had his bracelets on.

“No, I want you to wear this one.”

You took ahold of his hand and slid the bracelet on.

“Out of style.” Harry read the bracelet with a small laugh.

“You need all of the Style ones, okay? Only trade with people who have got 1989 bracelets.”

“I know, I know!”

You had so many on your arms and they were slightly cutting off your blood circulation, but it was so worth it.

Harry had a lot less on, but you also knew people would be desperately throwing their bracelets at him without wanting anything in returning just to be able to say they gave Harry Styles a friendship bracelet.

“Okay, ready to go?”

“I am if you are, m’love.”

“Then let me give you one last thing!”

You reached into your bag and pulled out another bracelet, this one you had spent precious time making.

“What’s this?” Harry asked as he took it from you.

Blue and white beads made the colours of the bracelet, whilst there were also some tiny moon charms and stars too because Harry always wished upon them.

Because he wished so hard, one of them had actually come true.

“Wait… Love, this says…”

“Mhm.” You watched as his eyes filled with tears and his hand holding the bracelet shook.

“Dad to be.” He read out the words wrapped around the bracelet so softly, like he couldn’t understand it yet:

You reached your hand around the back of his head, scratching the scruff on the back of his neck how he liked whenever he was emotional.

“You okay?” You asked with a smile, tearing up yourself over his soft reaction.

“I’m gonna be a dad.”

“Yeah, baby. You are.”

“We’re gonna be parents…” He looked at you and noticed you were as tearful as him.

He immediately put on the bracelet, before putting that hand on your stomach to feel whether he could notice a difference. Not so much yet, but just knowing his child was happily growing there made him want to cry all over.

“I know. It’s crazy.”

“I need to google how to change a nappy.” He made a joke, licking his lips as tears fell around his mouth.

“We’ve got time.”

And you kissed him before he could worry any more and make you miss the Eras…

[eddieslunchbox]

desire

summary: you've never been kissed and eddie has been crushing on you since the day you met

18+ [bestfriend!eddie x female!reader]

contains: hurt/comfort, mutual pining, fluff, friends to lovers, kissing, brief mention of alcohol, swearing

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my first time writing for eddie and I'm excited to share him with you! this is very self-indulgent but I hope you like it. please consider reblogging/commenting if you do, my blog is brand new! enjoy ❤

There’s a romantic comedy playing on the television, something you picked up from Family Video for your bi-weekly movie night with Eddie. It was your turn to pick, and after sitting through a terrible slasher film he claimed to love, you wanted to get him back with a movie you didn’t necessarily have interest in, but knew would make him squirm in his seat. 

He grabbed the snacks while you got the movie, and you met up at his trailer after Wayne left for work, the sun setting beyond the horizon and leaving a cold autumn breeze in its place. A routine that had been kept for almost six-months straight.

A bowl of popcorn sat between the two of you, an open bag of sour patch kids resting against your thigh and a half-empty bottle of beer was clasped in Eddie’s hand, resting lazily on his knee where he sat on the opposite side of the sofa. 

You always looked forward to these nights, but today you felt particularly resentful about your choice of film, the two main characters falling in love mere days after meeting. It’s cheesy and cliche, and not all that realistic. You know that. But it makes your chest ache with longing for something you’ve never had. 

And now, unbeknownst to you, you’ve been watching the movie play out with a pout sitting on your face while Eddie has to bite back his smile each time the male protagonist kisses the girl that looks a little like you if he squints hard enough. 

The two of you had been best friends since high school and now you were spending most of your time in college while Eddie worked at an auto shop, which left your get-togethers pushed to the weekends unless one of you showed up at the other's place without warning after a long day. You’d also been crushing on him practically since the day you met, but had kept your feelings to yourself, ignorant to the fact that Eddie also had eyes for you for longer than he was willing to admit to himself. 

You’ve watched him go through a handful of relationships in the time you’ve known him. 

From hearing the disbelief in his voice when he scored a date with Chrissy Cunningham and seeing her hanging off of his arm around school for four months, before you all graduated and she broke it off with a voicemail left on Wayne’s home phone and headed off to university in Indianapolis; to random hookups from his evenings spent at The Hideout that you encountered in awkward meetings when you showed up at his trailer to spend the day with him, finding girls in his clothes sipping coffee that they helped themselves to while Eddie snoozed for another hour. 

Eddie has been your best friend for five years. Six in only a couple of months. And he has been with a total of nine different women. 

Not that you’re counting or anything. 

His relationships never bother you. Not really. But the nagging thought in the back of your mind every time you think about him, was that you haven’t been with anyone. 

You’ve had nothing more than a brief conversation with boys in required discussion groups in college. And other than the frequent hugs you receive from Eddie, the furthest you’ve ever gone with someone was a kiss on the cheek from one of your girlfriends that was slightly too close to the corner of your mouth, and left your body erupting in tingles. 

But Eddie had game. He knew how to make a girl swoon. How to wrap them around his finger and kiss them until they were weak in the knees and red in the face.

You had seen him kiss a handful of times and were ashamed to admit to yourself that you had crawled into your bed with your hand between your thighs more than once, wishing it was you he was kissing and touching and making crumble with one particularly smitten look on his face.

He glances at you when you haven't said a word in over an hour, seeing the frown on your face and the crease between your brows that he desperately wants to smooth over with his thumb. You never had a great poker face, unintentionally putting most of your emotions on display, and he knows you have no idea you’re pouting. 

“Did you run out of candy?” He asks suddenly, making you turn to him, the wrinkle in your forehead deepening in confusion. “You’re grumpy.” 

“I’m not grumpy,” you huff, plucking your aforementioned candy off the sofa and popping one into your mouth. 

Your knees are pulled up to your chest, body leaning away from Eddie with your legs resting against the arm of the sofa. He knows something is up when your eyes don’t return to the movie, lips pursing as you suck on the candy in your mouth and stare at the bag in your hands, pretending to read the ingredients. 

He quietly sets his beer down on the coffee table, moving the barely touched popcorn off of the sofa and clicking pause on the remote, filling the room with silence. You look up at him and he rests his arm on the back of the sofa, the palm of his hand pressing into his cheek. 

“Are you going to keep pouting for the rest of the night, or tell me what’s wrong?” He asks, brow arching in question and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

“I’m fine,” you mutter, dropping your candy onto the table and bundling your hands together in your lap. 

“You’re a liar, is what you are,” he accuses. 

You sigh, slumping further down into the sofa with your cheek resting on the cushion as you turn to meet his gaze. 

His brown eyes sparkle in the dim light of the room, his usually untamed hair pulled back with a bun at the base of his skull, stray pieces falling softly to frame the sides of his face. He looks pretty. He always does, but your current state of mind has you looking away as your heart skips a beat, gaze falling to his chest which is covered with a well-worn Dio shirt. 

“I want that,” you admit quietly, voice barely audible to yourself. 

“You want what?” He questions, brows furrowing. 

You flicker your eyes over to the television and he turns his head to look at the screen, the film paused on a scene of a girl lounging beside a pool with a fluffy dog in her lap, sipping on a bright purple cocktail. 

“A dog? A pool- or do you want a drink? I can try and make you something but I don’t know what we have…” He trails off in confusion and you sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. 

“Just forget it,” you mumble into your palms before crossing your arms over your stomach and tilting your eyes up to the ceiling. 

Eddie feels clueless as he tries to work out your unspoken desire in his head, gaze shifting around the room until he spots the fictional couple on the cover of the rented VHS tape. 

A lightbulb flicks on in his head. 

“You want someone?” 

Your eyes dart to him quickly enough that he knows he’s right before you give him a subtle nod of your head, pulling the sleeves of your sweater over your hands as you feel your face grow hot. 

“You will one day,” he assures you but you just shake your head, that being the last thing you want to hear. 

Eddie knows about your relationship history, or rather, lack thereof, but you never talk about it. So he’s surprised with your next statement, his heart leaping into his throat and the energy in the room shifting. 

“No one has ever found me attractive… or at least not enough to do something about it. It’s hopeless.” 

He keeps a straight face but curls his fingers into a fist at his side, silently cursing himself for never telling you how pretty you really are. He thinks you’re the prettiest and most attractive person he’s ever known, but has never said a word out of fear that you’ll stop being his best friend. 

“It’s not hopeless,” he says quietly. “The guys who haven’t made a move on you are pussies.” 

His partially self-degrading comment was meant to make you laugh, but you don’t. Not even giving him a pitying laugh or a half-forced smile. 

“No one has ever even glanced in my direction,” you say and he frowns. 

“That you’ve seen.” 

“Eddie…” you sigh, unsure of why you start to feel emotion welling up in your chest. 

"Sorry."

“I just… I grew up surrounded by friends who had boyfriends, or flings, or were flirted with- kissed stupid outside of bars or on the bench behind school. And no one-” your words get caught in your chest and you swallow down the lump forming in your throat. “No one has ever even looked at me. Do you know how that feels?”

You look up at him but he doesn’t reply, his eyebrows threading together as he watches you bare your heart to him like this for the first time. 

“To have guys look at everyone around you, but never you? To never have anyone like you enough to say something about it? To… to have maybe had three guy friends who never saw you as anything more, that you haven’t even spoken to in years?” 

You know he doesn’t get it. Not at all. But it doesn’t matter. 

“God, Eddie.” You scrub at your eyes when tears gloss over your vision. “I’ve never even kissed someone,” your voice cracks and falls into a whisper. 

He immediately reaches forward to wrap his hands around your ankles and pull you towards him, swiftly maneuvering you to sit with your legs thrown over his lap and your head buried in his neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, running his hand over your waist. You sniffle sadly. “Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry.” 

He knows that all of the potentially comforting words forming in his brain won’t make you feel better. Because he doesn’t understand what it’s like to be your age and never kissed. 

You don’t want to hear that it’ll happen one day. You don’t know what you want. 

Maybe comfort isn’t something that words would necessarily give you right now. 

“I know that it’ll probably happen one day but… what if it doesn’t?” You whimper, curling into him as your vulnerability takes over. He holds you tighter to him, shaking his head. “I don’t even know what it feels like to be wanted. I can’t even imagine anyone wanting me. No one ever has.” 

His heart feels like it’s going to crumble into pieces in his chest as he lets you talk out your feelings, his hand gripping your thigh tightly. You’re almost completely perched in his lap, but he can’t focus on how you feel against him when your tears are wetting the collar of his shirt. 

“God I feel fucking pathetic,” you mumble, wiping your hand over your eyes and sitting up. “Sorry.” 

“You’re not pathetic,” he says, making you scoff quietly as you dab at your cheeks with your sleeves, staring down at your lap. “You’re human. It’s pretty human to want to feel desired.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, sniffling back the remainder of your tears and lifting your eyes to find his pretty brown ones staring back at you. 

There’s something different in his gaze now. Something you’ve only seen a few times. Something loving and soft, and so sweet that it makes your breath hitch in your throat. 

Eddie figures that now is as good a time as any to potentially make a complete fool out of himself in an attempt to make you feel better. To make you feel like you’re worthy of being desired. Because god knows he’s been desiring you since the day you accidentally fell into his lap in the cafeteria after being shoved out of the way with a harsh shoulder by some prissy cheerleader on the second day of school.

“You’re beautiful,” he says so quietly that you almost don’t hear him. 

“Eddie…” you mumble, shutting your eyes and moving to climb off of his lap. 

His hand on your thigh tightens and you pause, his eyes tracing delicately over your features. 

“You want someone to look at you,” he says, the corners of his lips quivering in a small smile. “So I’m looking, sweetheart.” 

His eyes flicker down to your lips and you want to say something. To pull away and turn the movie back on, get off of his lap and pretend like you were never there in the first place. But the way he’s looking at you is something you’ve only ever seen him do with his past girlfriends or someone he’s crushing on. Never to you. 

Your cheeks feel warm as he looks at you and you can almost feel his eyes as they trace over your hairline and down the bridge of your nose, past your lips and dropping down to your chest before meeting yours again. Your stomach twists with nerves as his hand leaves your thigh to rest on the side of your neck, his thumb smoothing across the skin of your cheek. 

“Eddie,” your voice is a whisper, heart pounding in your chest. “Stop.” 

He can feel the nerves radiating off of you but he doesn’t move, one of his brows quirking up in question. “What’s wrong?” 

“I-I don’t… I-” you stumble for a reason why you want him to stop looking at you like that. 

You wrack your brain while he sits patiently for an answer, but you quickly understand that you don’t want him to stop. You’re just terrified. 

You don’t have to speak to understand what could happen, with how he’s gazing at you and touching you so softly as if you’ll break under his palms at any second. Holding you in a way he never has before. 

“Please don’t be making one of your stupid jokes right now,” you say, a plea that has his face softening and his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. 

“I’m not joking, baby,” he murmurs, the pet name making your heart stammer in your chest. “You’re gorgeous. And I was too afraid to say anything in case you didn’t feel the same and left because you were uncomfortable around me.” 

You suddenly feel like crying again, a wave of disbelief washing over you as you realize that your best friend and the person you’ve been silently wanting for almost six years wants to give you everything you were just begging for. 

“I could never be uncomfortable around you,” you say and he smiles, hooking his arm around your waist and twisting you so that you’re facing him, your knees pressing into the sofa on either side of his hips. 

“I mean it,” he said and all you can do is nod. 

The position you’ve found yourself in is foreign in more ways than one, but especially with it being Eddie who has put you there. You feel slightly overwhelmed with your shorts riding up on your thighs and your skin cold where the metal of the chain on his belt presses against you. Rough denim scratching softly at your legs and a subtle heat radiating through the fabric that makes you slightly dizzy as you get a whiff of his cologne. 

Your hands are clenched into fists around the fabric of his t-shirt and he can feel your heart racing where his palm is still pressing against the side of your neck. 

“It’s just me, yeah?” He says and you swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” 

He knows you need him to make all of the moves right now and he’s okay with it, even despite the way his heartbeat is quickening to catch up with yours. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His question makes your head spin and your stomach tightens. “I… I’ve never-” 

“I know.” The gentle reassurance that falls from his lips soothes you and you give him another quick nod. 

There’s still a hint of a smile on his face when he leans forward to brush his lips against yours.

He doesn’t kiss you right away, the tip of his nose nudging yours as he pulls back just enough to gauge your reaction. Your eyes are closed and your lips part slightly with a shaky sigh, hands unknowingly pulling the neckline of his shirt down to grasp for any semblance of reality as you sit in his lap. 

He slides his hand to the back of your neck, guiding you forward an inch to meet his mouth, lips slotting against yours. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, and when a strand of his hair brushes against your cheek, you don’t bother to pull away even when it tickles your skin. 

The hand on your neck is a grounding touch and you think you’ve never felt so safe and comfortable in Eddie’s arms before.

He can feel the way you relax into his kiss, your body slumping just enough to rest your chest against his and fingers untangling from his shirt to drop into his lap. You’re not breathing so he pulls away after just a few seconds, lips parting from yours with a quiet click and you immediately take a deep breath through your nose, your eyes fluttering open. 

You think if your brain was working properly, you’d be worried that this was all a ploy for him to get your first kiss out of the way so you’d stop crying, but the only thing floating through your mind is how nice it felt to have his lips on yours. 

His face is close to yours, lashes brushing his cheekbones as he sits with his eyes closed, the hand on your waist sliding down to rest on the top of your thigh. The tip of his tongue pokes out as he wets his lips before exhaling a long breath through his nose, a tiny smirk tugging at his mouth. 

“Shit,” he breathes, squeezing your thigh before tipping his head back to rest on the sofa cushion. “I really can’t believe it took me this long to kiss you.” 

“You mean that?” You fight the urge to bring your hand up to feel your lips, wondering how long you might have to wait to feel his again. 

He peels his eyes open and looks down at you. “You have no idea.”

You feel a smile begin to form on your face and you duck your chin to hide against his chest, fingers still trembling from clutching his shirt so tightly as you lift your arms to slink around his neck. He chuckles and curls his arms around you, tilting his head down and burying his nose in your hair. 

“Don’t get all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he says, a shiver running down his spine as you slide your fingers into his hair, loosening the elastic holding it back. 

He doesn’t care about his hair as your nose presses into his neck and your breath warms the skin beneath his shirt. “Did I do alright for your first time?” 

Your face goes flush at his choice of words and he fights back a moan when you press a quick kiss to his neck before lifting your head, unable to hold back the coy grin that sits on your lips. 

You nod and he smiles, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your lower back. 

“Yeah? Think it’d be okay if I did it again?” 

“Please,” you say and he wastes no time in kissing you again. 

Your hands blindly tug the elastic band out of his hair, sliding it onto your wrist and tangling your fingers into the mess of curls at his neck. His lips drag over yours in lingering kisses that make your stomach twist with heat, tasting a hint of the candy he was munching on earlier in the evening. 

You’re consumed by the new sensation of his lips moving against yours and the frizzy curls hooked around your fingers, the thick of your thighs resting on his own with a silent invitation to scooch your hips a little closer to his if you wanted to. 

Eddie is kissing you. Keeping his advances small but addicting, pushing back a smile each time he feels you chase his lips when he pulls back. You can’t get enough. 

So you don’t really notice when he relaxes back against the sofa, resting his hands on your soft thighs with his fingers dipping just below the edge of your shorts. You let out a quiet noise against his lips as your chest comes to rest on his, your arm getting trapped beneath his shoulder and the cushion. His nails press softly into your skin at how pleased you sound, his arms erupting in goosebumps when you unintentionally tug at his hair. 

You’ve been letting out quiet gasps between every kiss he plants on your mouth, your lungs stinging in your chest, yet reluctant to pull away. It’s only when you feel the tip of his tongue nudge against your bottom lip that you pull back, resting your forehead on his and panting to catch your breath. 

“Too much?” He mumbles, sliding his hands over your skin. 

“Not at all,” you breathe, swallowing hard and letting out a soft laugh. “I just couldn’t breathe.” 

Eddie smiles, tilting his chin forward to press his lips to the corner of your mouth. You lift your head and your eyes instantly fall to his lips, now slightly swollen and a darker shade of pink. 

It’s hard for you to think straight, to wrap your head around the fact that you just had your first kiss, and second, and third, and fourth… all with Eddie who is looking at you now like you hung the moon just for him. 

As much as your insecurity is wanting to take you away from this moment, you know that he isn’t that good of a liar, and if he really didn’t want you like this in at least some capacity, you’d be able to see it in his eyes. But all you can see is the sweet, loving gaze of your best friend as he lets you settle, no matter that all he can think about now is kissing you stupid for the rest of the night. 

You’ve gotten further than you ever thought you’d get and you mindlessly pull the tangles in his hair apart, wetting your lips and taking a deep breath. “I like you, Eds. A lot.” 

You figured he might make a teasing comment at your admission, but he just smirks and lets his eyes fall closed as you play with his hair. “I like you too, sweetheart. Have for way too long.” 

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip and slide your hands from his hair to drag down his chest, his stomach twitching beneath your innocent touch. 

“Do you want to keep watching your movie?” He asks, glancing at you and you shake your head. “You sure?” 

You think this is the happiest you’ve ever been, and Eddie feels the same- just happy that he could be the one to make you feel truly wanted for the first time. He wishes you would’ve confided in him about your lack of romance earlier in your friendship so you wouldn’t have missed out on so many years silently pining for one another. But he thinks this will do just fine.

“I want to keep doing this,” you quietly admit and he lets out a soft groan as he brings his hands up to his face. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me…” He drops his hands to his sides. “Wanna get comfy in my room then?”

He chuckles at your eager nod, patting your thighs and moving to sit up. “Hop up then, baby. We can clean up later.” 

You get up and he follows suit, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers to drag you down the hallway with an urgency that makes you laugh the entire way into his bedroom.

[swappermanent]

Gym Crush (Part 2)

Read Part 1 by @exploratorytfs.

It’s been a year and a half since the swap, and not a day goes by that I don’t think about how crazy it all was. You might be wondering—why would I trade the life I had? I mean, I had it pretty damn good.

Before all this, I was hot. Not just passable, but the kind of hot that turned heads. I had worked my ass off to look the way I did—hours at the gym, eating clean, all of it. And then there was Edgar. God, Edgar. This dude was a walking Greek statue: broad shoulders, a thick chest, veins for days. I mean, it wasn’t just the muscles; it was the way he carried himself. Confidence, swagger, like he knew he could get whatever he wanted. And yeah, I guess at the time, he was my boyfriend.

But even with all of that—being hot, dating a hunk like Edgar—I just couldn’t do it anymore.

You’re probably thinking I’m nuts. I mean, guys like Edgar don’t come around often, especially not for guys like me. Let’s be real, most dudes who look like him wouldn’t even give a trans guy like me the time of day. So, yeah, I was lucky. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself. I should’ve been happy, but the truth is... I wasn’t.

Why? Well, Edgar. He wanted me to be this perfect, submissive, fem bottom. And look, I’ve got nothing against that. There are guys out there who rock that vibe, who own it, and good for them. That’s just not who I am.

I know, I know—saying this out loud would probably get me canceled in half the gay bars across the country. But I really am masc for masc. Always have been. I’m not saying it to be some sort of gatekeeper or anything; it’s just... that’s what I’ve always wanted for myself.

And it’s not just about who I’m attracted to—it’s about me, too. My whole life, I’ve been trying to prove I’m man enough. To the world. To other guys. Hell, even to myself.

Transitioning was the first step, obviously. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to look the part, you know? That’s why I inked myself up. And the gym was my second home, but even after countless hours of sweat and dedication, I could never quite bulk up. No matter how much protein I shoved down or how hard I lifted, my frame stayed twinky.

Don’t get me wrong—there were plenty of guys who loved me for it. I mean, twinks are kind of a whole thing, right? A lot of guys would’ve killed to look like I did, but that wasn’t the point. It didn’t feel like me. I didn’t just want to be a guy; I wanted to be a man. The kind of man Edgar was.

And Edgar... he didn’t see me that way. Sure, he’d call me hot, touch me like he couldn’t get enough, but then he’d taunt me. He’d weaponize my body. Every time he called me “pussy boy” or made some comment about how he was more of a man than I was, it chipped away at me. He might’ve thought it was playful, but to me it was cruel. And I couldn’t take it anymore.

Initially, I thought if I just stuck it out, maybe things would change. Maybe he’d see me differently, respect me more. He didn’t. My self-esteem tanked. I started dreading the time we spent together, and eventually, I just... stopped putting out.

And of course, that’s when things really fell apart. Edgar doesn’t do well with rejection—big shocker, right? So yeah, I wasn’t exactly surprised when Edgar came sliding back into my DMs after. But honestly, I wasn’t planning on responding. I’d already been down that road, and I’d told myself after the last time—no more.

Still, when I saw what he was pitching, I couldn’t help but be curious. Swapping bodies with a cis guy? At first, I rolled my eyes. Like, thats even possible. But the more I thought about it, the more curious I got.

The guy Edgar had in mind? Not exactly a stunner. When Edgar sent me his photo, I remember staring at it for way longer than I should’ve, trying to pick out anything redeeming. The dude was... average. A little too soft in the face, a little too plain. But, to be fair, there was some potential there. Barely.

His eyes were nice, though—kind of soulful, in a way that made you think he might be a good guy deep down. And the kicker? He was taller than me by a good 6  inches. That alone had my interest. But let’s not kid ourselves; the real selling point was the fact that he had a cock.

That was the dream, wasn’t it? My own cock. I’d spent years dealing with the disappointment of not being able to fully live out the life I wanted. Transitioning had given me so much, but this? This was the missing piece. In this kid’s body, I could finally live out the fantasy that had been sitting in the back of my mind for years.

I could be the top I’d always wanted to be. I could take guys home, pin them down, and breed them with my own cock and fill them with my own cum. No more strap-ons, no more awkward positioning—just me, fully in charge, giving them EVERY. SINGLE. INCH.

Maybe with a little muscle here, a little polish there, I could make it something great.

So I said yes.

I’m not gonna lie—the first year in this body wasn’t easy. Adjusting to a new frame, new habits, new... everything? Yeah, it was a grind. But if there’s one thing I’ve always had, it’s work ethic. Between that and this body’s naturally high testosterone—and okay, yeah, I might’ve dipped into some steroids here and there—I’d say I built myself up pretty damn good.

Look at me now. I run my own training service. I mean, it’s not like I’m the most skilled coach out there or anything. But honestly? That doesn’t seem to matter much. Guys line up for my programs, and we all know why. They don’t just want my advice—they want to look like me. I’m walking inspiration. Living proof that the dream is achievable, or at least that’s how they see it.

And man, the way people treat me now? Everyone’s calling me “bro” or “dude” every other sentence. Not that they didn’t before—I’ve always leaned into that vibe—but there’s something about hearing it now that hits different. Maybe it’s the weight of my cock swinging in my shorts as they say it. It’s like the final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Everything just feels... right.

And the best part? This manhood of mine? Oh, it’s gotten around.

I mean, come on. Looking like this, how could it not? Guys want me. They crave me. They crave my fleshy, thick, no kidding, natural, beer can of a cock throbbing inside of them.They’ll do whatever it takes to get a night with me, and honestly, who could blame them?

[halfmoonaria]

what i can’t say

pairing: tara carpenter & female reader

summary: tara wants the only person she can’t have, but she’ll do whatever it takes to change that —even if it means risking everything.

word count: 10.7k

author’s note: yall don’t forget to wish me a happy birthday this friday on the 22nd!

Tara wasn't used to hearing the word "no."

Growing up, she'd mastered the art of getting exactly what she wanted, whether it was a toy, a treat, or just a little more attention.

All it took was a well-timed look, a hint of a pout, or a small scene in a public place—not that she ever felt bad about it. After all, it always worked, and it always felt worth it.

But more than any toy or treat, Tara always seemed to have what she wanted most: you.

Her best friend since... well, since you both were small enough to think scraped knees were the end of the world. You'd been there from the start, the friend who laughed with her, who stood by her through every phase and whim.

Tara didn't have to beg or throw a fit to keep you close. You just were. It was like you were woven into each other's lives, and if anyone asked, she'd say you'd always be there—like you were something she'd managed to keep just for herself.

If anyone asked, Tara couldn't quite recall a time before you.

You were there in every memory that mattered, the friend who understood her quirks, finished her sentences, and knew every dream she'd ever had.

You were inseparable, not just in the way kids cling to each other, but in the way people do when they know they'll never quite find someone who gets them like this again.

You shared everything with your clothes, midnight snacks, and every embarrassing crush you'd ever had.

You laughed together about the silly things you thought were love back then, sharing conversations about who you'd marry someday and who had the best smile.

Although. Tara was always a little quieter during these talks, listening more than sharing, and you never thought much of it. That was just Tara, after all, always keeping a bit of herself back, tucked away in her own mind.

But when it came to your middle school crush, she never missed a chance to tease you, brushing him off as if he wasn't as special as you seemed to think.

She'd laugh and tell you he wasn't as funny as you made him out to be, or that his smile really wasn't anything to write home about.

To you, it was just typical Tara, always finding a way to poke holes in the things you liked.

You didn't notice how her smile faltered when you gushed over him or how her gaze turned a little sharper, though even she didn't fully understand why.

It left her with an uneasy feeling, the kind she could never quite explain, that made her want to change the subject whenever she could.

And as time passed during this time, it seemed like your crush only grew, and so did the way you talked about him.

No matter how many times Tara brushed off your comments or tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, you still lit up whenever his name came up.

Brian.

Brian slipped into conversations almost daily, whether it was about the way he made everyone laugh in class or how he'd held the door for you that morning. And each time you brought him up, Tara felt a pang of irritation she couldn't quite explain.

She never told you how much she despised Brian, but the feeling ran deep. It gnawed at her whenever you mentioned him, and even though she tried to brush it off, she found herself disliking him more and more.

The worst part was, she couldn't understand why. It wasn't like you weren't allowed to like a boy—that was just part of life, after all.

Whenever she hinted at her frustration with her mom, she'd hear the same thing: it was normal, fun even, to have a crush, and Tara would experience it too someday.

But she hadn't. She'd never felt that way about any boy in your grade, no matter how many times she tried to convince herself she should.

It confused her, and in a way, it confused you too. You'd always laughed off the fact that Tara never seemed to "crush" the way you did, teasing her about how she'd figure it out someday.

But whenever you'd gush over Brian, Tara would just sit quietly, trying to ignore the strange knot in her stomach that seemed to tighten with every word you said.

Time went on, and those middle school crushes never quite faded.

Brian only seemed to grow more attractive, transitioning from the shy boy you liked to someone who was effortlessly charming, with a confidence that made everyone notice him.

Back then, you'd have called him "cute," but now, there were new words—hot, gorgeous—terms that made Tara roll her eyes every time they left your mouth.

But you still felt that rush of excitement when he was around, that same giddiness you'd had since you were ten, only now it felt a little more real.

Tara, on the other hand, hadn't changed much when it came to relationships.

While others around you both dated, broke up, and fell in love, she stayed quietly distant, brushing off questions and teasing about why she never seemed interested in anyone.

The truth was, she didn't really know why herself. There was a part of her that felt left out when you gushed about Brian, when your other friends talked about crushes or brought dates to dances. She tried to tell herself that she just wasn't interested yet, that maybe someday she'd feel what everyone else seemed to.

But as the years went by, Tara started to realize that maybe she was different—and she couldn't shake the strange sense of frustration that came with that realization, especially whenever Brian was mentioned.

Somewhere along the way, as high school turned into something more serious, so did her thoughts about you.

Tara didn't want to admit it at first—not to herself, not to anyone. The idea crept up quietly, unexpected and unwanted, like some shadow she couldn't shake.

The way you'd laugh at something silly, the familiar warmth of your hand in hers, or the way her heart would skip when you'd throw an arm around her shoulders. It all made sense now, but it was a sense she desperately didn't want.

When the realization hit her, it was like she couldn't breathe.

There was this tiny voice in her mind that whispered, almost cruelly, You're in love with her. Tara's immediate reaction was to shut it down, to deny it with everything she had. This couldn't be right. She wasn't in love with you.

That wasn't what best friends did. She told herself she was just confused, that maybe it was normal to feel this strongly about someone you'd known your entire life.

But every time she saw you look at Brian—every time you said his name with that sparkle in your eyes—it felt like a punch to the gut, and there was no denying it anymore.

The more she tried to reason with herself, the clearer it became. And that terrified her.

She couldn't let herself feel this way about you. You were her best friend, the person who knew her better than anyone else.

The idea of telling you—of you finding out and looking at her with pity, or worse, disgust—made her stomach twist. She could already imagine the awkward smile, the way you might back away, laugh it off, or even leave her behind. It would shatter her, and she knew that.

And so, she decided then and there that this secret would stay with her.

She'd lock it away, bury it so deep that even she could forget about it someday. Telling anyone—even her parents—wasn't an option.

Not only did she fear their reaction, but she knew they wouldn't understand. To them, you were her friend, nothing more, and the thought of losing you, or of anyone making her feel like her love was wrong, was enough to keep her quiet.

But keeping quiet wasn't easy. The secret felt like it was burning a hole through her, consuming her thoughts and leaving her frustrated in ways she couldn't explain.

She wanted to be around you, but every moment with you felt like a reminder of what she could never have, and it only made the ache grow stronger.

She was angry, scared, and hopelessly in love with the one person she could never tell.

So she became skilled at hiding the depth of her feelings, putting on a mask that had somehow become part of her daily life.

She played her role well, acting like nothing had changed between you both.

At school, she kept her gaze casual, listening to you talk as if she didn't want to lose herself in the way your lips moved.

During sleepovers, she'd lie next to you, forcing herself to focus on anything but the warmth of your arm just inches from hers.

And at parties, now that you were both old enough to go, she'd laugh and dance alongside you, all while pretending her stomach wasn't in knots from the way you looked at her under dim lights, a playful grin lighting up your face.

It was like living with a constant tug-of-war inside her, balancing between wanting to be near you and needing to keep her heart steady.

She'd perfected the art of nonchalance, even when you made it nearly impossible. When you got excited about something—eyes wide, laughing about some small victory—Tara would have to swallow down the urge to reach out, to brush a strand of hair from your face or lean in just a little closer.

The hardest moments were the little things, the 'normal' things, like when you'd give her an easy, carefree compliment, your eyes warm and sincere.

She'd feel the blush rise to her cheeks, and she'd quickly look away or laugh it off, hoping you didn't notice the way her voice wavered.

And when you held her hands, like you always did, squeezing them to give her a little boost of courage, she'd act as though it didn't send her heart racing, as though she wasn't fighting the impulse to hold on tighter.

Every smile you threw her way, every moment you lingered too close, she had to act like it didn't make her insides flip.

She trained herself to respond with that same easy smile, to pretend she didn't feel like the air had been knocked out of her whenever you looked at her like she was the only one in the room.

It was a constant game of pretending, a battle against herself that she had to win every single day.

And as much as she tried to hide it, each touch, each laugh, each simple, familiar look left her more tangled in her own emotions.

She tried to tell herself that these things were just... normal. Friends did these things all the time, she told herself, even if everything in her felt far from normal.

But no matter how many times she told herself that, her resolve was starting to crack. She couldn't help but notice her jealousy flare up when she saw you talking to other people, especially Brian.

Then, one Tuesday at lunch, you dropped a bombshell that flipped her world just a bit more.

She leaned back, half-focused on your conversation with the others at the table, when she saw you walking toward her with a grin so bright it felt like it could light up the whole room.

Tara felt her heart jump at the sight, her thoughts immediately swept into the excitement that was clearly radiating off of you.

You barely took your seat before bursting with excitement. "Tara!"

Tara's smile matched yours, though a part of her already felt a small pang of unease. But she pushed it aside and leaned in eagerly, mirroring your excitement. "What happened?"

You practically glowed as you told her, "He sat next to me in class today." Tara's chest tightened, but she held her expression steady, keeping that casual, easy smile.

She already knew who you meant—you didn't even have to say his name. It was in the way your voice softened, how your eyes sparkled with excitement she rarely saw except when you were really, really happy.

She couldn't stand the sight of it. Seeing you so... in love, so giddy, felt like a punch she wasn't ready for.

You practically glowed, your whole personality seeming to shift as if you were that younger version of yourself again, like back in middle school when every new crush filled you with wide-eyed excitement.

Except now, it wasn't an innocent schoolgirl crush; it was real, and you were already slipping further from her reach with each passing second.

Tara kept smiling, but inside, every bit of her was tangled up in knots.

You'd never look at her like that. Never talk about her with that bubbly, uncontainable happiness. The thought clawed at her, a reminder she could never push away.

She was your best friend, sure, but she'd never be the person who made your cheeks flush or your heart race. And somehow, knowing that made it even harder to keep that same easy smile on her face.

"And?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her, even as she felt a knot forming. She listened as you recounted every word, every laugh you'd shared with him in that class.

Then you dropped the real news, your eyes sparkling. Your grin only widened. "And then, right before class ended, he asked me to go with him to that party next weekend."

Tara's heart sank, yet she barely let the smile slip. She forced herself to open her mouth in surprise, eyes wide, like she was just as thrilled as you were. "Really?" she said, trying to sound as shocked and happy as you seemed, her voice just a bit too bright. "Did you... did you say yes?"

Of course you did. Tara felt stupid for even considering asking you that question.

But you didn't seem to mind, you just nodded eagerly, your whole face lighting up. "Obviously!"

"Oh, wow. That's... that's great, actually," she said, her voice a little too steady, but it was the best she could manage.

Inside, though, she was unraveling. You were actually going with him. It shouldn't have been such a shock—after all, this was what you wanted, right?

But knowing that you'd be there, dressed up, all smiles and laughter... with him... felt like a lead weight sinking in her chest.

She could already picture it, the two of you in some dimly lit room with music thumping, Ethan leaning in close to say something to make you laugh, you smiling up at him like he was the only person in the world.

The thought of it made her throat tighten, her mind racing with feelings she didn't even want to name.

"Are you excited?" she asked, her voice coming out just barely above a whisper. She hoped you wouldn't notice how strained it sounded, how much effort it took just to ask.

You nodded, your smile impossibly bright. "Yeah, I mean... I didn't think he even noticed me like that, you know? But now... maybe he does."

The way you said it—hopeful, almost in disbelief—cut deeper than she wanted to admit. Maybe he does. Those three words stayed in her head, echoing louder with each second.

She was supposed to be happy for you, and maybe part of her was, but mostly, she just felt hollow.

Because even though you'd never know it, she'd been looking at you the way you were looking at him, longing for that same chance to mean something more to you. And now she was faced with the awful reality that she might never get that chance.

Swallowing down the bitterness, she forced a tight-lipped smile. "You'll have a great time, I'm sure."

But even as she said it, a part of her was already wondering if she'd do something she'd regret. The thought of watching you fall for someone else—someone who wasn't her—was more than she could stand.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew she'd do almost anything to keep you from slipping away.

Your eyes brightened again. "You should come with us!"

Tara's heart twisted at the invitation, feeling both flattered and devastated. Of course you'd want her there, being the good friend you were—unaware of what it did to her to see you light up over someone else.

Forcing herself to stay casual, she shrugged, managing a small playful smirk. "I'm not exactly great at third-wheeling."

Her voice sounded steady enough, but inside, it felt like she was clinging to the last threads of composure.

She couldn't stand the thought of watching you fall for him right in front of her, yet the idea of saying no, of letting you go without her... that hurt, too.

Maybe if she was there, she could stop whatever was beginning to grow between you and him. Just maybe, she thought, she'd find a way to keep you by her side, where you'd always belonged.

Her mind spun, the smile on her face frozen, all she could focus on was the sinking realization that she might actually lose you.

Until now, she'd convinced herself that her feelings for you were something she could handle, something she'd eventually learn to live with. But now, with Brian's name hanging between you, that quiet acceptance shattered.

She could see the way this might unfold, each painful step already clear in her mind.

She'd watched enough romance movies to know how these things went, and as much as she wanted to push the thoughts away, they crept in, vivid and unrelenting.

First, you'd go to the party together, and maybe he'd make you laugh so much that you'd find yourself leaning in, your hand brushing his.

She could already picture the two of you on future dates—sharing secrets over a quiet dinner or standing too close on some sidewalk, your face lit up in a way that made her stomach twist with envy.

And worse, she could imagine what might happen after those dates, how one day soon he'd reach for your hand, and you wouldn't hesitate to hold his back.

She didn't want to picture it, but the thought seeped into her mind anyway, filling her with a fierce, unfamiliar ache.

The image of you wrapped up in his arms, whispering into his ear, or—even worse—laughing with that same joy you always shared with her, but this time meant for him, made her chest feel hollow.

The thought kept spiraling, her mind betraying her with scenes she couldn't bear to picture.

You, with Brian, alone, closer than she'd ever be, maybe even leaning in for a kiss.

She imagined his hand brushing your cheek, the two of you getting so lost in each other that you forgot everyone else around you—including her.

The jealousy was sharp, hotter than anything she'd felt before.

She hated the way it took over, the way it made her feel small and powerless, like she was losing something that had never even been hers to begin with.

And then, a terrible, aching thought hit her: she might never get to be close to you in that way.

She might never get to be the person who held you, who kissed you, who made you laugh like that.

It wasn't just about watching you fall for someone else—it was the crushing realization that you might never look at her the way you looked at him.

Maybe it would be better if she came along?

The idea took a root in Tara's mind, an unexpected, half-formed plan that both excited and unsettled her.

If she went to the party with you and Brian, it might give her a chance to keep things from moving forward between you two.

She could play it off as tagging along to "keep an eye" on you, to make sure you had fun—and stay close enough to step in if Brian tried anything. It was risky, maybe even a little desperate, but what choice did she have?

At least if she was there, she'd know exactly what was happening. She wouldn't have to lie awake later, imagining him whispering things in your ear, pulling you close, stealing the attention she wanted only for herself.

She could keep you safe from all that, and maybe, if she was careful enough, find subtle ways to draw your attention back to her, where it belonged.

In her mind, it sounded almost justified. A "protective friend" sticking close to make sure you were all right. But the truth simmered beneath that excuse—she knew this was more than friendship, that she wanted to keep you to herself in ways you might never understand.

If Brian was going to try to win you over, he'd have to do it with her there, watching his every move, ready to swoop in the second things started looking too cozy.

And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to make sure that night ended with you still hers—still looking at her with that easy, trusting smile that had always been her anchor.

Her chest tightened at the thought of it, the chance to stay close to you a little longer, to stave off the reality she dreaded.

If you didn't have the chance to fall for him—if she could prevent that—maybe she'd finally have the time and courage to make you see her the way she saw you.

You nudged her lightly, snapping Tara out of her thoughts, leaning in with that familiar, hopeful smile that always made it so hard to say no to you. "Come on, Tara. It'll be fun—just this once. Please?"

Tara's chest tightened at the way you looked at her, like her answer actually mattered to you. It made something inside her ache, the way your face lit up with excitement, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in her mind.

She should've said no. She wanted to say no.

But the thought of watching you leave without her—without knowing what might happen between you and Brian—made her stomach twist painfully.

And now, thanks to the idea she'd let herself entertain earlier, the thought of staying home didn't feel like an option anymore.

That plan, desperate and reckless as it was, had already taken root, and no matter how much a small part of her whispered it wasn't right, she couldn't let it go.

What if she stayed behind and missed her chance to stop something from blossoming between the two of you? What if she sat in her room, alone, while you fell for him right in front of everyone? The mere idea made her skin crawl.

But going wasn't any better. If she went, she'd have to watch you fawn over him, maybe even see you with him. And that thought was enough to make her want to bolt from the room. Yet here you were, looking at her like her presence actually mattered.

But why? Did you think she needed convincing, or was there some part of you that truly wanted her by your side? Her stomach churned at the thought.

She hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her shirt as she tried to keep her expression neutral. If she said no, you'd go without her, and that stung more than she wanted to admit. But if she said yes...

Her mind spun with the possibilities. She didn't even know what she'd do if she went—how far she was willing to take this twisted plan of hers. But what she did know, with a growing certainty, was that she couldn't stay behind. Not when the thought of Brian pulling you closer was enough to make her chest burn with jealousy.

Your face shifted slightly, your brows knitting together when she didn't answer right away.

"Tara," you pressed gently, your voice dipping into that teasing tone you always used when you were trying to coax her into something. "Come on," you pressed again, your grin widening when she hesitated. "You have to come. It won't be the same without you."

It won't be the same without you.

Those words sealed it, though not in the way you meant them to. Something twisted and desperate bloomed in her chest, making her pulse quicken.

You didn't even realize it, but you were giving her exactly what she wanted: a reason to stay close. A reason to be where she could see you—and control what happened between you and Brian.

"Fine," she said at last, forcing a smirk that didn't quite reach her eyes. "But don't complain when I tell you it sucks."

The way your entire face lit up at her answer sent an ache through her chest. Her stomach fluttered against her will, a mix of longing and guilt tangling together in a way that made it hard to breathe. She hated how much it affected her, how happy you seemed just because she'd agreed to go.

She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on something across the room, anything to avoid the way your joy sent another wave of guilt and longing through her.

She knew it wasn't right—none of this was. But she couldn't let it go. Not when her plan had already started to take shape. Not when the thought of Brian having you was enough to make her reckless.

Because no matter how hard she tried to tell herself this was just a party, just a stupid night out, deep down, she knew she wasn't going for the music or the fun.

She was going because if Brian thought he was going to win you over tonight, he was dead wrong.

___

"What about this one?"

Tara looked up from where she was sitting on the edge of your bed, her gaze drawn to the shimmering fabric you held up against yourself. It was a short, fitted dress, one you'd clearly been saving for a moment like this.

The way Tara sat there, watching you flit around the room, sifting through piles of clothes you'd pulled from your closet.

It reminded her of when you were younger, back when the two of you would raid your moms' closets, parading around in oversized heels and dresses that pooled around your feet. You'd giggle uncontrollably, striking exaggerated poses in front of the mirror.

But this wasn't dress-up anymore.

Now, the clothes were your own—real, grown-up outfits that fit you perfectly, accentuating curves and edges Tara wasn't sure she was supposed to notice. It wasn't just playtime; this was your life now. And tonight, you weren't dressing up for laughs or pretend tea parties.

You were dressing up for him.

Her eyes flickered briefly over the dress before settling on your face. You were beaming, the excitement practically radiating off you as you turned to the mirror, holding the dress against your body.

She should've said something. A simple "looks great" or even a teasing "a bit much, don't you think?" would've worked, but the words caught in her throat.

It wasn't the dress—it was the way your whole body hummed with energy, the way your smile was just a little too wide, your movements a little too quick. Tara saw it all, and it was like watching you wear your feelings on your sleeve.

The way you twirled the dress in front of the mirror, the way your hands moved restlessly as you smoothed down imaginary creases—it was all too familiar. She knew exactly what you were feeling, even if you didn't say it out loud.

Did Brian? She doubted it.

He didn't know the little things, like how your voice got higher when you were nervous or how you couldn't stand still when you were excited. He didn't know the way your lips pressed together when you were thinking too hard about something or the way your shoulders tensed when you wanted something to go perfectly.

He didn't know you, not like she did.

"What do you think?" you asked again, snapping her out of her thoughts. You turned, holding the dress out at arm's length, giving her a better look. "Too much? Not enough?"

Tara forced a smile, her heart twisting as she watched you. "I think it's... nice," she said carefully, her voice steady even as her stomach churned.

Nice. The word felt like a betrayal. It didn't come close to how she really felt—how beautiful you looked, how much she wished those bright eyes were sparkling for her instead of someone else.

"You think Brian'll like it?" you asked, your tone innocent, but the question struck Tara like a punch.

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of your comforter. She wanted to tell you Brian didn't deserve you, that he wouldn't know how to appreciate all the little things that made you you. But instead, she kept her tone casual, masking the storm inside her.

"I mean... yeah," she said after a pause. "It's hard not to like you in anything."

Your grin widened, lighting up the room in a way that made her stomach flutter. You didn't notice the tightness in her smile, the way her eyes lingered on you for just a second too long.

"You're the best." you said, turning back to the mirror.

Tara's chest tightened, a quiet ache settling beneath her ribs. She glanced away, forcing a small smile as she leaned back on her hands.

She let her fingers dug slightly into the comforter as she watched you move across the room again, this time heading toward your closet. You sifted through the hangers with an almost frantic energy, pulling out one piece of clothing after another until something caught your eye.

"This," you announced, holding up a sleek black skirt and a tiny top with delicate lace accents.

Tara blinked, her focus shifting from the faint hum of her own thoughts to the outfit in your hands. The skirt was just short enough to grab attention, and the top would clung to the curves in all the right places—your curves, she couldn't help but think.

Her stomach twisted again, but not with the same bitterness from earlier. No, this was something else entirely. She couldn't stop herself from picturing you in it, couldn't stop the way her mind immediately conjured the image of you standing there, all done up, looking effortlessly hot and completely out of her reach.

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze away. "You're not wearing the dress?" she asked, her voice steadier than she felt.

"Oh, I am," you replied with a grin, holding the outfit closer to her. "This is for you!"

Tara froze. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe, her chest tightening as your words sank in.

She had been so caught up in watching you, so wrapped up in her own spiral of emotions, that she had momentarily forgotten she was actually going to this party.

"Me?" she echoed, her brows furrowing slightly as she tried to act like the idea of dressing up didn't make her stomach drop.

You laughed softly, stepping closer to hold the outfit up against her frame. "Yeah, you! Come on, Tara, you can't just wear that." You half-pointed to her attire.

Tara's eyes darted to the mirror, catching a glimpse of herself in her usual hoodie and jeans.

She had planned on blending into the background tonight, just another shadow in the corner, but now you were holding out a version of herself she wasn't sure she wanted to confront.

"It's... a little much, don't you think?" she murmured, her fingers brushing over the fabric.

"Not at all," you said, undeterred. "Trust me, you'll look amazing.

The way you looked at her, so excited, so hopeful, made it impossible for her to argue. The truth was, she didn't want to blend into the background—not really. Not if it meant letting Brian win.

"Alright," she said finally, forcing a small smirk as she reached for the outfit.

You grinned, clearly thrilled, and the sight sent her heart fluttering all over again.

As she stood up to take the clothes in you, the weight of the night ahead settled on her shoulders again. She knew this wasn't about the clothes or the party. It was about you—about keeping you close, about holding onto the part of you that still felt like hers, even if it wasn't.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she was willing to do whatever it took to keep it that way.

Tara pulled the clothes from your hands, her fingers brushing yours for just a second longer than necessary before she turned away.

She hesitated only briefly, her eyes darting to the bathroom door, but then she decided against it. It wasn't like this was anything new. You'd seen her change plenty of times before.

Slipping off her hoodie, she pulled the top over her head, the soft lace brushing against her skin in a way that felt oddly delicate, almost foreign.

The skirt followed, the fabric snug around her waist and flaring slightly at her hips. When she finally turned back toward you, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

It was strange. She didn't recognize the girl staring back at her right away—not entirely. The clothes fit her so well, so effortlessly, that she felt a flicker of something unexpected: pride.

She looked... pretty. Not in the same way you did, with your radiant energy that drew everyone in, but still. Pretty enough.

Her heart jumped a little at the thought of you seeing her like this, of you noticing her in the way she always noticed you. She didn't know why she wanted that so badly, but the hope curled tightly in her chest, warm and persistent.

You looked up from where you'd been smoothing out your own dress, and your reaction was immediate. Your eyes widened slightly, and then your face lit up in that effortless way that always made her stomach flutter.

"Tara, oh my god, you look so good," you said, your voice soft but genuine, carrying none of the over-the-top excitement you sometimes used when joking around. This was real.

Tara felt her cheeks warm under your gaze, her fingers automatically reaching to adjust the hem of the skirt, as if she could somehow shield herself from the weight of your words. She tried to play it off, shrugging casually. "It's just a skirt," she mumbled, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

"It's not just a skirt," you countered, stepping closer. "You look amazing. Seriously, this is perfect for you."

Your words were kind, almost too kind, and Tara wasn't sure how to process them. There was no teasing, no playful edge, just an earnestness that made her chest feel tight and achy.

She glanced away, pretending to focus on her reflection again, but the warmth of your approval lingered, sinking into her skin like the lace of the top.

She wanted to feel good about it, to let herself bask in the way you saw her, but the nagging thought that this wasn't for her—that it was all part of your excitement for Brian—kept her grounded.

Still, the way you smiled at her, so unreserved and so entirely you, made her feel something she hadn't in a long time: seen. She wished, just for a second, that you were saying all of this for the same reason she wished you would.

You spun on your heel, nearly tripping over the pile of discarded clothes strewn across the floor in your excitement. Tara's breath caught for a second, her hand twitching instinctively like she was about to reach for you, but you caught yourself, laughing it off as if nothing had happened.

"You need to clean your room before someone gets hurt," Tara muttered, though her tone held more amusement than annoyance.

You ignored her, too caught up in the moment as you reached your makeup table, rifling through your collection with a kind of chaotic precision.

Pulling out a palette, you held it up, the colors catching the light as you grinned at her. "What do you think? Want me to do your makeup?"

Your voice was so full of unfiltered excitement, your smile so wide it made her stomach flip. Tara hesitated, her fingers brushing the hem of her skirt as she glanced at the palette in your hands. She wasn't really the makeup type—not like you were—but the way you looked at her, like you were just waiting to make her feel special, made it impossible to say no.

"You don't have to," Tara said finally, though her voice lacked conviction.

"I want to!" you insisted, stepping closer, the palette still in hand. "Please, Tara? I promise I'll keep it simple. Just a little something to go with the outfit."

She sighed, feigning reluctance as she sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Fine."

You grabbed a chair and pulled it in front of her, gesturing for her to sit. "Alright, let's make you even more stunning."

Tara rolled her eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she leaned forward.

___

The buzz of the party hit you as soon as you stepped through the door.

Music pulsed through the house, the bass vibrating in your chest as voices overlapped in a cacophony of laughter and shouted greetings.

People crowded the space—groups gathered near the kitchen, couples pressed close against walls, and a few brave souls danced in the living room, already letting loose despite how early it was in the night.

You glanced over at Tara, catching the way her shoulders stiffened slightly as the noise and energy enveloped her. She'd been quiet on the drive over, her fingers drumming against her thigh in a way that let you know her nerves were kicking in. But she'd never admit that, not to you.

"See?" you said brightly, bumping her shoulder with yours as you stepped further into the house. "I told you this would be fun."

Tara gave you a look, one that was half-skepticism and half-amusement, as she tugged at the hem of her skirt. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

Your laugh was warm and easy, a sound that somehow made the chaos of the party seem less overwhelming. You reached back to grab her hand, pulling her through the crowd as you made your way toward the kitchen. The feel of your fingers around hers made something in Tara's chest twist uncomfortably, though she forced herself to ignore it.

The kitchen was just as packed as the rest of the house, but you managed to snag two drinks from the counter, handing one to her with a grin. "Alright, party rule number one: stay hydrated."

Tara raised an eyebrow, glancing at the cup in her hand. "This is definitely not water."

"Details." You waved her off, your playful smirk making her stomach flutter in that maddeningly familiar way.

Before she could respond, a voice called out from across the room. "Y/N! There you are!"

Tara's grip on her cup tightened as she followed your gaze, her stomach sinking when she saw him—Brian—making his way toward you. His smile was wide and easy, the kind of grin that would make anyone else swoon.

But Tara wasn't anyone else.

"Brian!" you said, your face lighting up in a way that made Tara's chest ache. She stepped back slightly, letting go of your hand as he drew closer, though her eyes never left you.

He didn't deserve that smile.

Brian's gaze flickered to her briefly, his smile faltering just a bit. "Tara, right?"

She nodded, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her drink. "That's me."

If he noticed the edge in her tone, he didn't comment on it, turning his attention back to you instead. "You look amazing," he said, his eyes raking over your dress in a way that made Tara's jaw tighten.

You beamed at him, clearly pleased by the compliment, and Tara had to look away, her hand gripping her cup so tightly she was surprised it didn't crack.

This was going to be a long night.

And it most definitely was.

As the night went on, the party only grew louder and more chaotic. People drifted in and out of the circle you, Tara, and Brian had settled into, friends of his joining the conversation with easy smiles and casual jokes.

You made a genuine effort to include Tara, always pulling her back in when she started to fade into the background, but it was clear who held your focus.

Brian.

He stood close to you, his arm brushing yours as he leaned in to talk over the music.

You didn't seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you didn't mind. Either way, the proximity between you two only seemed to grow as the minutes ticked by, and Tara couldn't stop watching.

Every time you laughed at something he said, her chest tightened just a little more.

You weren't doing it on purpose. Tara knew that. She knew you didn't notice the way her jaw clenched or how her fingers drummed against her cup.

You were just being you—kind, bubbly, and effortlessly charming. But watching you with Brian, seeing how much of your attention he was soaking up, felt like a slow, relentless sting.

She hadn't expected it to bother her this much.

At first, Tara tried to play along, chiming in when she could and taking small sips of her drink to distract herself.

But then Brian's friends started joining the conversation, their loud energy making it harder for her to keep up. You were still trying to include her, turning to her every so often to ask her opinion or flash her one of your brilliant smiles, but it wasn't enough.

Not when you lit up like a damn firework every time Brian said something that made you laugh.

Tara tipped back her cup, finishing it quicker than she probably should have. She wasn't much of a drinker to begin with—she never really liked how it made her feel—but tonight was different. Tonight, she needed the edge taken off.

"Want another?" you asked, noticing her empty cup.

She hesitated, but before she could respond, Brian offered. "I'll grab her one. Be right back."

She opened her mouth to say she didn't need another, but he was already walking away.

You smiled after him before turning back to Tara, your expression so full of effortless warmth it made her stomach churn. "You having fun?"

She forced a small nod, her grip tightening on the plastic cup. "Yeah. It's... fine."

You didn't notice the strain in her voice, too caught up in the energy of the party to catch on.

By the time Brian returned with her drink, she'd already decided she wasn't going to overthink it. She took it with a quiet "thanks" and drank just enough to feel the buzz set in. It wasn't much—maybe two drinks total—but Tara was short, and she always felt the effects quicker than most.

The alcohol didn't drown out her frustration, though.

Every laugh you gave Brian, every time you leaned in to whisper something to him, only seemed to magnify it.

And you? You were oblivious. Still trying to keep her in the conversation, pulling her in with the same ease you always had. But she could feel the gap widening.

Tara's foot tapped against the floor as she shifted her weight, her eyes flickering between you and Brian. She should've left, should've wandered off to another part of the house to escape this torturous little triangle, but she stayed.

Because if she left, she'd have to admit to herself why she couldn't handle this.

So instead, she took another sip of her drink and plastered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"You okay?" you asked, your voice cutting through her thoughts.

"Yeah," she said quickly, her words sharper than she intended. "I'm fine."

But she wasn't. And as the night wore on, that became harder and harder to hide.

And after an hour, or maybe even more.

The alcohol was definitely working its way through Tara's veins. She could feel it, the familiar warmth spreading through her chest, making her limbs feel looser but her thoughts louder.

The edges of the room blurred ever so slightly, but her focus on you was sharp as ever, almost painfully so.

You were giggling at something Brian said again, your hand brushing his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Tara had been watching you both like a hawk all night, trying to play it cool, but the subtle touches, the shared smiles, the way your eyes sparkled when you looked at him—it was getting under her skin.

She clenched her jaw, tipping back the rest of her drink as if it might drown out the frustration bubbling inside her. But it didn't.

It wasn't just the alcohol making her feel reckless, though it didn't help. Tara was desperate.

Desperate to do something—anything—that might shift the balance back in her favor. But how? She wasn't like Brian. She didn't have easy jokes or effortless charm. And she wasn't like you, all soft laughter and open smiles.

So she sat there, stewing in her own silence, searching for an opening she couldn't find.

Then she turned her head for just a moment.

A distraction—a loud burst of laughter from somewhere across the room. She glanced over, barely processing the source, and when she looked back...

Her heart stopped.

You and Brian were kissing.

It wasn't shy or hesitant. It was full and unguarded, like something out of the movies. His hands rested lightly on your waist, your fingers clutching the front of his shirt as though you were afraid to let go.

Tara's first thought wasn't sadness. It wasn't heartbreak or even surprise.

It was rage.

Her body went rigid, the plastic cup in her hand creaking under the force of her grip.

Because of course this wasn't a problem.

Why would it be?

You weren't hers. You'd never been hers. You were allowed to kiss boys, especially the boy you'd been crushing on for as long as she could remember. It wasn't like you were breaking some unspoken rule. She had no claim to you, no right to feel betrayed or blindsided.

But God, it felt like a betrayal.

Her rational mind tried to reason with her, repeating the same useless mantra: This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem. This isn't a problem.

But the other side of her mind—the side that had been clawing its way to the surface all night—was screaming the opposite.

It was a problem. A huge one.

The anger burned through her like a wildfire, consuming every rational thought as it spread. It started in her chest, hot and heavy, before curling into her throat and setting her teeth on edge. Her nails dug into the soft plastic of her cup until it crumpled under her grip, a sharp crack breaking through the buzz of the party.

And still, she couldn't look away.

She hated it. Hated the way his hands touched you so easily, like he'd earned that right. Hated the way you kissed him back like you'd been waiting for this your whole life. Hated how he got to have what she wanted so desperately without even knowing how much it mattered.

Her breaths came quicker, each one catching in her chest as if she couldn't quite fill her lungs. The alcohol amplified everything, stripping her bare of the filters she usually relied on. Every raw, unspoken feeling she'd buried for years was rising to the surface now, and there was no stopping it.

She wanted to scream.

To grab you and pull you away, to tell Brian to get his hands off you, to do something.

But she didn't.

Because no matter how angry she was, no matter how much she hated what she was seeing, there was a part of her—a small, quiet, agonizing part—that whispered:

You're not supposed to feel like this.

So instead, Tara sat there, her body tense and trembling, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't even realize she'd crumpled her cup until the sticky remnants of her drink dripped onto her lap.

And still, she couldn't look away.

Eventually you pulled back from Brian, cheeks flushed and eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol coursing through your system.

A small, almost dazed laugh escaped your lips as you glanced at him, then turned to find Tara in the crowd. She hadn't moved from where she'd been watching, her posture stiff and her eyes fixed on some indistinct point on the wall—anywhere but you.

When your gaze landed on her, your smile widened, bright and unrestrained, like you hadn't just set her entire world on fire.

Tara's chest tightened, the molten frustration inside her bubbling hotter with every passing second. She couldn't stop her thoughts, couldn't silence the storm brewing in her mind.

You stumbled a little as you reached her, still grinning like a fool, your energy infectious to everyone but Tara. You leaned close, tipping forward on your toes, your voice loud but slurred enough to betray your tipsy state.

"I think he kissed me," you said, as if it hadn't been entirely mutual.

Tara felt something snap.

Her fingers curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms so hard she half-expected to draw blood.

She couldn't speak, couldn't trust herself to even try. If she opened her mouth, she was sure she'd yell or say something she couldn't take back. Worse, she might cry—and that wasn't an option.

Her silence stretched on, but you didn't seem to notice. You were too lost in your own world, your thoughts spinning with the buzz of the alcohol and the remnants of Brian's touch. Tara's silence didn't matter, because you filled the space with another easy laugh, leaning closer so she could hear you over the pounding music.

"I need to use the bathroom," you said, your lips brushing near her ear. The warmth of your breath made her stomach twist. "Wanna come?"

Tara's mind scrambled for an excuse, her mouth dry as she fought the urge to say something reckless.

"No," she said finally, forcing her voice to sound casual, detached. "I think I'm good down here."

It wasn't true. She wasn't good down here, or anywhere else in the universe at that moment.

You gave her a light shrug, your expression still full of that easy joy that made her want to scream. "Okay! Be right back!"

You disappeared into the crowd, weaving your way toward the bathroom, leaving Tara standing there alone.

The second you were out of sight, she exhaled sharply, her hands shaking as she reached for another drink she didn't need.

She wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, the anger, or the ache of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. Maybe it was all three, swirling into something she couldn't control.

But one thing was clear—she couldn't keep this up. Not tonight. Not with you and Brian. Not with her chest full of feelings she couldn't name and didn't want to face.

Tara's eyes burned as they landed on Brian, standing not far from where you'd left him. His posture was easy, relaxed—too relaxed.

He stood there like nothing had happened, chatting casually with a couple of his friends, his hand lifting a red cup to his lips like this was just another night. Like he hadn't just kissed you.

The most beautiful girl on the planet.

Tara felt her stomach twist painfully, her grip tightening around the drink in her hand. How could he be so unbothered? So unaffected? He wasn't grinning ear to ear, wasn't puffing out his chest or gushing about how lucky he was.

He wasn't laughing with joy or smirking proudly like any sane person would if they'd just kissed you.

How was he not telling everyone in earshot about what had happened? How was he not reeling from the fact that you—you, with your blinding smile and endless energy—had given him even a second of your time, let alone your lips?

Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as she stared at him, her anger bubbling hotter with every second he stayed calm. Her hands itched to grab him by the collar, to shake him and demand he act like he understood the weight of what had just happened.

Did he even realize how lucky he was?

Did he know how many people in that room—how many people in general—would kill to be in his place? To have even the tiniest fraction of your attention, let alone that?

Her vision blurred, and it wasn't from the alcohol. Her chest felt like it was about to implode, like something inside her was trying desperately to escape, and she didn't know how much longer she could keep it together.

Brian's laughter snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. He was laughing at something one of his friends said, his expression light, carefree—unbothered.

Tara nearly saw red.

She downed the rest of her drink in one go, the sharp burn doing nothing to dull the fury roaring in her chest. How could he be like this? How could he act so normal, so indifferent, after kissing you?

How could he not be overwhelmed by the fact that you'd chosen him, even for a fleeting moment?

It was insulting. Infuriating.

She wanted to march over there, to grab him and make him feel the way she was feeling. She wanted him to hurt, to ache, to boil with jealousy the way she was.

But she couldn't.

Because none of this was his fault.

The real issue—the one she didn't want to admit—wasn't Brian. It was the simple, heartbreaking truth that he could kiss you without consequence.

He could have you.

Tara wasn't sure what happened next.

What she was thinking when it happened, or if she was even thinking at all. Maybe it was the anger—burning hot and uncontrollable—making her body move before her brain could catch up. Or maybe it was the alcohol, buzzing in her veins and drowning out every voice in her head that might've told her to stop.

All she knew was that one second she was standing there, glaring at Brian like he'd committed some unforgivable sin, and the next, she was storming toward him.

His friends noticed her first, their chatter faltering as they shifted awkwardly under her sharp glare. But Brian, oblivious as ever, didn't see her coming. He was mid-sentence, that stupidly calm look still plastered on his face, when Tara grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

The movement was forceful enough to knock the air out of both of them, and before he could even process what was happening—before she could process what was happening—she pressed her lips against his.

It wasn't soft.

It wasn't sweet.

It was messy, rough, and fueled by a cocktail of rage and desperation. Her hands fisted his shirt tightly, holding him in place, her nails biting into the fabric. Brian stiffened for a second, shocked, but then his hands hovered awkwardly near her waist, unsure of what to do.

Tara didn't care. She didn't care about his reaction, about his hesitation.

Because this wasn't about him.

It wasn't about his stupid, clueless face or the fact that he'd kissed you without giving it a second thought. It wasn't about him being unbothered or unaffected.

This was about her.

Her anger, her frustration, her absolute inability to sit there for another second and watch him act like kissing you was nothing.

The kiss deepened as her grip on his shirt tightened, pulling him even closer. She wanted to erase the memory of you from his lips, to replace it with her own. To make him feel something, anything, the way she was feeling.

But it wasn't working.

If anything, the kiss only made it worse.

Because no matter how hard she pressed, no matter how desperate her movements were, it didn't feel right.

It didn't feel like you.

And that thought was like a punch to the gut.

Brian made a soft, surprised noise against her lips, his hands finally settling on her hips, but it only made her angrier. How dare he hesitate now? How dare he act so unsure, like he didn't know exactly what he wanted when he'd so easily taken you from her just minutes ago?

Her chest heaved as she pulled back slightly, her lips still brushing against his, her heart pounding in her ears.

His wide eyes stared at her, confused and more than a little alarmed. "Tara—" his voice laced with bewilderment, but she silenced him with another kiss, pressing harder, needing to cut him off.

She didn't want to hear his voice. She didn't want to hear him try to make sense of this, because she didn't have an explanation. This wasn't about him.

It wasn't about you either—not entirely, at least.

It was about her. About the way she felt like she was unraveling, about how every smile you gave Brian felt like another thread being yanked loose, every laugh you shared with him felt like a blow to the chest.

She didn't know how to make it stop, and the only thing her mind could come up with was this. She didn't have to think when she was kissing Brian. Didn't have to feel the jagged ache of watching you be so happy with someone else.

This wasn't about him.

But it was all she could do to stop herself from falling apart completely.

And Tara wasn't sure what was happening anymore.

Brian hadn't pushed her away. He hadn't stopped her, hadn't hesitated for even a moment after that first surprised noise.

No, he'd leaned into it. He'd kissed her back with the kind of intent that only made her angrier, made the fire in her chest blaze so hot she thought she might combust right there.

Because it wasn't supposed to go like this.

His hands slid from her hips, pulling her closer, pressing her tighter against him, and she hated it. Hated the way he responded like this was exactly what he wanted, hated the way he kissed her back like she wasn't just a replacement for you.

And worse than anything, she hated herself for not stopping it.

His hands moved lower, gripping her ass, pulling her even closer, and she felt herself clench her fists tighter into the fabric of his shirt.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol buzzing in her veins, numbing her better judgment, or if it was the anger still consuming her every thought, but she didn't do anything to stop him.

She should've.

But she didn't.

Because in this moment, it wasn't about him. It wasn't even about you. It was about the chaos she felt boiling in her chest, about the way she felt like she was spiraling further and further out of control.

Brian murmured something against her lips—she didn't catch it, didn't even try to—but his hands stayed firm on her, guiding her, pulling her toward the stairs.

And she let him.

Every step felt like she was wading through quicksand, her mind shouting at her to stop, to push him away, to pull herself together. But her body wasn't listening. She didn't know if it was the heat of his hands on her or the fog of alcohol clouding her better judgment, but she let him lead her.

Because stopping meant facing the truth. And Tara wasn't ready to do that.

Not yet.

She'd barely registered how they ended up in the room. One second, she was being pulled up the stairs, Brian's hand gripping hers tightly, and the next, they were in a dimly lit bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them.

Her heart was racing, but not from excitement. There was no thrill, no anticipation, just a gnawing sense of wrongness she couldn't shake. Yet she didn't stop it. She didn't stop him as his hands found her waist, as his lips trailed down her neck. She didn't stop herself from responding, from letting this spiral further than it ever should have.

It was mechanical, empty, and every moment felt like it was happening to someone else. Brian's touch wasn't unpleasant, but it wasn't what she wanted. His lips weren't the ones she craved, his hands didn't spark anything but an aching hollowness inside her.

And yet, she let it happen.

Because, for a fleeting second, it felt like power. Like control. Like maybe, just maybe, if she could take this from him—take you from him in some twisted, nonsensical way—it would hurt less.

But it didn't.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word she barely heard, only drove the knife deeper into her chest.

When it was over, the silence was deafening. Tara lay there, staring at the ceiling, her body still and her mind racing. Brian shifted beside her, saying something she didn't hear, and the sound of his voice made her stomach twist. She felt nauseous, disgusted—not with him, but with herself.

What had she done?

Her chest tightened as she fought to keep her breathing steady, refusing to let him see the tears threatening to spill over. It hadn't helped. It hadn't made anything better. If anything, it had only made everything worse.

Because no matter what she did, no matter how far she went, it would never be enough to make her stop wanting you.

Afterwards Tara laid still, the dim light of the room casting shadows that felt too heavy, too oppressive.

Brian was beside her, breathing evening out as if nothing monumental had just happened. As if this was just another casual moment in his life.

Her mind, however, wouldn't stop.

It wasn't Brian she was thinking about—not the way he'd touched her, not the way he'd looked at her. No, every thought clawed its way back to you.

She pictured you in the bathroom, probably still staring at yourself in the mirror, giddy and flushed. She could almost see your smile, so wide it was infectious, and the way you'd probably tilt your head, trying to relive every second of that kiss.

You'd been dreaming of that moment since second grade, scribbling his name in the margins of your notebooks and lighting up every time he was near. Tara could already imagine how you'd be practically glowing, heart racing with excitement as you ran your fingers over your lips, trying to make the feeling last.

She wanted to hate you for it. But she couldn't. She never could.

You'd come out of that bathroom with a smile so bright it could light up the whole house, your hopeful eyes scanning the crowd as you made your way back to the spot you'd all been standing. And what would you find?

Nothing.

Tara wasn't there. Brian wasn't there.

She could imagine how your smile would falter, confusion settling in as you looked around, searching for the two people who were supposed to be waiting for you. How long would it take for the excitement to drain from your face? How quickly would hope turn to disappointment?

The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut.

And yet, she still couldn't make sense of why she'd done this. Why she'd let it happen. Because it didn't feel like she'd won anything. She hadn't taken Brian away from you. If anything, she'd stolen something from herself—something she could never get back.

Her chest tightened as the realization hit her like a freight train. She hadn't wanted him. She hadn't wanted this.

She'd wanted you.

And now she'd ruined everything.

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

I Would Choose You In Every Lifetime » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Best Friend!40s Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader, Best Friend/TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Best Friend!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky would choose a lifetime with you over anything else.

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, language, best friends to lovers, crying, kissing, pet names

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckys-wintersoldier

“Why do you insist on getting into fights?” You asked, cleaning blood off of Steve’s lip with a tissue.

“He started it.” Steve says like a child.

You playfully rolled your eyes at your best friend and continued to clean the blood off of his lip and nose.

“What happened this time?” Bucky asks, walking in the alley.

“Nothing…” Steve answers, lying through his teeth.

Bucky knew he’d say that so he looked at you for the answer.

“Some guy was talking during the Army film and wouldn’t be quiet so him and Steve came back here to fight.” You tell him.

“I swear you like getting punched.” He says to Steve.

Steve rolled his eyes at Bucky.

“Did you get your orders?” Steve asks Bucky.

“The 107th, Sergeant James Barnes.” He answers with a proud smile.

“Oh my god! I’m so proud of you, Bucky!” You say, hugging him tightly.

Bucky smiles and hugs you back. You kissed his cheek before pulling away from the hug.

“I get shipped out tomorrow.” He tells you two.

The smile on your face faded away. You didn’t know he’d be getting shipped out this soon.

“Tomorrow?” You asked.

“I know it’s soon, but we can still spend the rest of today together.” Bucky says, handing a newspaper to Steve.

Steve read the top headline of the newspaper.

“Stark Expo.” Steve reads aloud.

“We’re going tonight and we got dates waiting for us.” Bucky says.

“You found a man for me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. Sorry. I couldn’t find anyone for you, doll.” He apologizes.

“Oh. It’s ok.” You say.

“Come on. Let’s not keep the girls waiting.” He says, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulder.

You followed behind them. Truth be told, you were hoping that Bucky would ask you to be his date to the Stark Expo. You’ve had a crush on him for a while, but you don’t think he feels the same way about you.

When you three got to the Stark Expo, Bucky walked hand and hand with his date. He didn’t pay attention to you at all. Steve’s date paid little to no attention to him. You felt left out.

You stayed till Howard Stark displayed a floating car before walking out. You sat on the stairs in front of the building. Steve noticed you weren’t with him and Bucky anymore and went to find you. He found you crying on the stairs. He sat down next to you and gave you a tissue to dry your tears.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks softly with worry in his voice.

“I’m fine, Stevie.” You sniffled, lying through your teeth.

“No you’re not. Talk to me.” He says softly.

You fiddled with the tissue for a short moment before answering him.

“I’ve had a crush on Bucky for a while now and he brought a date with him. I was hoping he’d ask me to be his date to this, but he didn’t. He’s leaving tomorrow and he won’t know I’m in love with him.” You tell Steve. “I don’t even know if he feels the same way about me.” You added.

“Tell him. I’m sure he feels the same way.” He says.

“How?” You looked at Steve. “He’s with that girl.” You say.

Steve thought about it for a moment when he thought of something.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, standing up and walking away.

Steve walked back to the building. Bucky walked out of the door at the same time Steve approached it.

“I was wondering where you were.” Bucky says. “Where were you?” He asks.

“Comforting Y/N.” Steve answers. “She’s upset.” He says.

“Why’s she upset?” He asks.

“I think you should hear it from her.” He says. “She’s sitting on the stairs.” He tells him.

Bucky nodded and made his way to you. He heard your sniffles from a couple feet away. He sat down next to you on the stairs.

“Steve told me you’re upset. What’s wrong?” Bucky asks softly.

“What do you care? You have a girl with you tonight.” You say.

Bucky frowned. You’ve never talked to him like this. Even when you’re upset about something.

“What’s wrong?” He asks again.

“You wouldn’t care even if I told you.” You say.

“Never say that again. I care about you and you know it. Steve knows it too.” He says.

You lifted your head and looked at Bucky.

“If you cared, you wouldn’t have asked another girl to be your date to this thing.” You say.

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Bucky asks.

You scoffed before answering him.

“You barely paid attention to me tonight! It’s like I’m invisible to you.” You said, raising your voice a little bit. “You’re leaving for the Army tomorrow and you can’t you see that I’m in love with you!” You blurted out.

Bucky’s eyes went wide when you confessed your love to him.

“You’re in love with me?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“What does it matter?” You asked. “It’s not like you feel the same way about me.” You mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

“It does matter.” He said. “Cause I’m in love with you too.” He confesses.

“You don’t mean it. You’re going to meet some nurse in the Army and fall in love with her.” You say before standing up.

Bucky was quick to stand up and grabbed your arm before you could walk away from him.

“Let go of me, James.” You said, trying to tug your arm out of his firm grip.

“Don’t do this, doll. I don’t want to spend my last day with you mad at me.” Bucky says.

“You don’t love me.” You said.

Instead of saying anything, Bucky kisses you passionately, catching you off guard. You kissed him back.

“I do love you, doll. You just won’t believe it.” He says softly, putting his forehead against yours and looking in your teary eyes.

You gazed in his beautiful blue eyes and caressed his cheek. Bucky leaned into your touch.

“Go fight for our country and try not to die, Buck.” You almost whispered with tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky slowly let go of you. He watched you walk away with a couple tears escaping his eyes. You didn’t want to do this, but you had to. Your heart broke into a million pieces as you walked away. Bucky felt like someone ripped his heart out of his chest and crushed it in their bare hands. You walked away knowing that you’re in love with one of your best friends and you don’t believe he’s in love with you.

70+ YEARS LATER…

Bucky can still hear the last words you said to him before he got shipped off to the Army. “Go fight for our country and try not to die.” are the only words being echoed in his mind. He felt like he failed you. He wishes that he poured his heart and soul out to you to confess his love for you, but you could only see him with girls who aren’t you. That’s something Bucky regrets… going on dates with girls who aren’t you. He should’ve asked you to be his doll forever when he had the chance.

“Bucky?” Sam says, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Bucky asks, looking at Sam.

“You ok?” He asks. “You looked like you were in a trance.” He says.

“Yea, I’m fine.” He says.

Bucky isn’t fine and Sam knows it.

“I know me and you don’t know each other like you and Steve did, but you can talk to me about it if you want.” Sam says.

Bucky looks down at his lap, fiddling with his fingers. He was quiet for a moment before saying anything.

“It’s about someone from my past… a girl.” Bucky finally spoke up.

“Was she your girlfriend or wife or something?” Sam asks curiously.

“No.” He answers. “Her name is Y/N and she was mine and Steve’s girl best friend.” He tells him. “Her and I got into a fight the night before I got shipped out to the Army.” He says.

“What was the fight about?” He asks.

“She was in love with me, but I was too stupid to pay her any attention that night and I asked another girl to be my date to Howard Stark’s Expo.” He explains. “I tried to tell her that I was in love with her, but she was too upset to believe me. Her last words to me were-” Bucky felt himself getting choked up on his words and took a deep breath before continuing his sentence. “Go fight for our country and try not to die.” He tells him, his voice cracking.

“Are you still in love with her?” Sam asks.

“I never stopped loving her.” Bucky said. “She wouldn’t believe me, even if she was alive.” He says.

“I’m sorry, man.” He says sincerely, patting his shoulder.

Bucky gave Sam a small smile before standing up and went to get some fresh air to clear his mind. He walked down the streets of New York with the light fall breeze blowing with his hands in his jacket pockets. He was walking past a coffee shop when he looked up and stopped in his tracks and seen someone- a woman from his past… you, working behind the counter at the coffee shop.

“Holy shit…” Bucky mumbles to himself.

Bucky entered the coffee shop at the same time you looked up from the cash register, making eye contact with him. He felt his heart skip a beat and your eyes went wide. Neither of you could believe what you two were seeing. Bucky stared at you like he just seen a ghost. You were staring at him with the same look on your face. You motioned one of your coworkers to the register before you walked over to Bucky. Bucky’s eyes never left you for a second. Yours didn’t leave him either. You two stared at each other in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

“Do you umm- want some coffee?” You asked, remembering that you’re at work.

“Yes, that would be nice.” Bucky answers softly. “You know what I like.” He says.

You smiled and nodded your head before going to get him a coffee. Bucky sat down at a nearby table and patiently waited for you.

“Who’s the hot guy you were talking to?” One of the baristas asks.

“One of my guy best friends.” You answered quietly.

“Is he single?” She curiously asks.

You furrowed your eyebrows and looked at her.

“He’s yours. Got it.” She says before going back to work.

You put the lid on the cup and walked over to the table Bucky was sitting at. You put the coffee in front of him and sat down across from him. Bucky tapped his fingers against the paper cup and you fiddled with your fingers.

“How are you?” You asked after a short moment.

Bucky stopped tapping his fingers against the cup and looked at you. He wasn’t sure how to answer that question without getting upset.

“I’m good.” Bucky finally answers. “How are you?” He asks.

“I’m good too.” You answered.

Bucky nodded and took a sip of his coffee. You opened your mouth to say something, but one of your coworkers told you to get back to work. You took a pen out of your pocket and grabbed a napkin, writing your phone number and address.

“Here’s my phone number and address. I get off of work at 2:30pm.” You tell him.

“Ok.” He says.

You and Bucky stood up at the same time. He watched you walk back behind the counter, going back to work. Bucky smiles before leaving.

When it came time for the end of your shift, you finally went home. When you got home, you seen Bucky sitting on the front steps of your small house. It may not be much, but you call it home.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” You say, walking to your front door.

“I’ll always come if it’s you. You know that.” Bucky smiles.

There is was again… the awkward silence.

“Let’s go inside.” You say.

“That would be nice.” He says.

You unlocked the door and walked inside of your house. Bucky followed behind you, closing the door behind him. Bucky took a look around while you took your jacket off and set your things down. He smiles when he seen pictures of you and your parents hung up on the walls. His heart skipped a beat when he seen a few pictures of you, him, and Steve on the wall.

“I suppose you want answers.” You say from behind him.

“Yes I do.” He says.

You and Bucky went to the living room and sat down on the couch so the two of you can talk.

“Let’s start with why you never told me or even Steve that you were alive.” Bucky says, getting straight to the point.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized. “I should’ve reached out to one of you, but I was scared to.” You say.

“What have you could possibly be scared of?” He asks.

“HYDRA finding me.” You say.

Bucky felt his heart drop and his eyes widened when you said HYDRA.

“HYDRA got their hands on you?” Bucky asks, making sure he heard you right.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“When?” He asks.

“Shortly after you… you know.” You say, referring to when he fell off of the train in 1945.

Bucky’s jaw clenched at the thought of HYDRA getting their hands on you.

“What did they do to you?” He asks.

“Experimented different kinds of Super Soldier serums on me. None of them worked, except for one. It’s the one that worked for you and Steve.” You explained. “They put me through so many experiments. It hurt so bad.” Bucky didn’t miss the way your voice cracked. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Bucky. So I finally found the best opportunity to escape and I haven’t looked back since then.” You say.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at this point. Bucky immediately wrapped his arms around you. You melted into his touch like you used to do.

He was ready to start questioning why you didn’t reach out to him sooner, but that’s the furthest thing on his mind.

“I’m so sorry, doll.” Bucky apologizes softly.

“It’s not your fault, Bucky. You didn’t know.” You say and sniffled.

“I could’ve done something. I could’ve looked for you.” He says.

“You are doing something now. You’re holding me.” You say, looking up at him.

Bucky looks down at you. He seen a sparkle in your eyes through the tears. It’s the sparkle he always seen when you guys were younger. He hasn’t seen it in years. It made him smile when he seen it.

“I meant what I said the night before I left for the Army. I am in love with you. I have been for years.” Bucky tells you.

You could tell he meant it this time. Unlike the last time he said it.

You gazed in his beautiful blue eyes, getting easily lost in them. Your eyes drifted down to his lips. His lips look soft. You wondered to yourself if they were still as soft as the night he kissed you before he left for the Army. You leaned in and so did Bucky. It felt like everything was in slow motion when your lips met his. You two felt that same spark and passion from that night years ago.

Your hands grasped onto his shirt, clutching the fabric in your hands. Bucky’s right hand gently caressed your cheek. You two were lost in the kiss. There was so much passion in the kiss that it took your breaths away. You two finally pulled away, gazing in each other’s eyes breathlessly.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, almost whispering. “I shouldn’t have let that night end like that. We should’ve ended that night on something good.” You murmured softly.

“That doesn’t matter anymore. As long as we’re together now, everything is going to be the way it should be.” Bucky softly says.

“I love you, Buck.” You say to him for the first time in years.

“I love you too, doll.” His thumb softly rubbed against the skin of your cheek. “I would choose you in every lifetime.” He whispers.

A smile grew on your lips. You softly and sweetly kissed him. Bucky smiles against your lips.

“I would choose you in every lifetime too.” You tell him.

“Does this mean you’re my doll now?” He asks in a whisper.

“Oh, Bucky…” You whispered, lifting a hand to caress his bearded cheek. “I’ve always been yours. Forever and always.” You tell him softly.

“Forever and always.” He whispers, kissing you once more.

🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

[flowerbunnyboo]

FUCKING THE BESTFRIEND’S BROTHER | back

starring: niki x male reader

summary: Niki is Mn’s brothers best friend and Mn has always had a crush on Niki. Niki spots Mn alone at a party and takes him away from the loud noise only to fuck him on the deck

nsfw

a/n: when can he fuck me?

Mn could never gather the courage to speak to his brother’s best friend. Mn would only stare, stare long at that handsome face with those sharp features.

“You should talk to him, Mn, he doesn’t bite”, Jay pushed his brother ahead. Mn shrugged his shoulders and made his way out of the practice room where Niki was practicing. However little did Mn know, a pair of sharp eyes were eyeing him.

Niki sauntered through the crowded party, his chiseled features and athletic build drawing admiring glances from both guys and girls alike. As the star quarterback of the high school football team, he was used to being the center of attention. But amidst the sea of familiar faces, one figure stood out to him - his best friend’s brother, Mn.

Mn sat alone on a couch, nursing a beer and looking utterly out of place among the revelers. Niki knew the boy well; quiet, bookish, and perpetually tongue-tied whenever Niki was near. It wasn't lost on Niki that Mn had harbored a secret crush on him for years, though he'd never mustered the courage to act on it.

Niki made his way over to Mn, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey, man," he said, plopping down beside him. "Having fun?"

Mn looked up, his eyes wide and nervous behind thick-framed glasses. "Uh, yeah...it's okay, I guess," he replied, fiddling with his beer bottle.

Niki noticed Mn's agitation and decided to put him at ease. "Listen, why don't we ditch this scene and grab some fresh air? The night's young, and I could use a break from all these people."

Mn's eyes lit up, though he quickly masked his excitement. "S-sure, if you want to," he stammered.

Hand in hand, they slipped out of the house and onto the moonlit lawn.

Niki guided Mn towards the edge of the property, where a narrow path wound its way down to the riverbank. The water glistened silver in the moonlight, creating a peaceful backdrop for their impromptu escape.

As they reached the bottom, Niki turned to face Mn, his gaze intense. "You know, I've always wondered about you, Mn," he said, his voice low and sincere. "Why you're always so quiet around me, what's really going on in that brilliant mind of yours."

Mn's cheeks flushed a deep crimson, and he looked away, unable to meet Niki's piercing stare. "I-I just...appreciate you, Niki. As a friend, as a person. You're amazing, and I feel lucky to know you."

Niki's heart swelled at Mn's words, realizing just how deeply Mn cared for him. He reached out, gently tilting Mn's chin upwards to force eye contact.

"You're amazing too, Mn," Niki whispered, his thumb tracing the soft curve of Mn's lower lip. "And I think maybe there's more to our friendship than either of us realized."

Before Mn could respond, Niki closed the distance between them, capturing Mn's mouth in a passionate kiss. Mn melted into the embrace, his lips parting eagerly as Niki explored the warm cavern of his mouth.

They broke apart for air, chests heaving, eyes locked in a smoldering gaze. "Fuck, Mn," Niki breathed, "I want to fuck you so bad right now."

Mn nodded frantically, his own desire evident in the bulge straining against his jeans.

Without another word, Niki scooped Mn up into his arms and carried him towards the old wooden dock jutting out into the river. He laid Mn down on the weathered planks, his body pressing against Mn's as he captured his lips once more in a searing kiss.

Their tongues danced, exploring each other's mouths with growing urgency. Niki's hands roamed freely over Mn's slender frame, mapping the contours of his torso, teasing the sensitive skin of his sides.

Mn arched into Niki's touch, his fingers digging into the strong muscles of Niki's back. He moaned softly into the kiss, his hips rocking against Niki's in a desperate bid for friction.

Breaking the kiss, Niki looked down at Mn, his eyes blazing with lust. "Tell me you want this, Mn," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "Want you, Niki," Mn gasped, his chest heaving. "Need you."

Niki grinned, a wicked gleam in his eye. "Then let's make this happen," he growled, leaning down to nip at Mn's earlobe.

He worked open Mn's belt and zipper, sliding his hand inside to wrap around the hot, hard length of Mn's cock. Mn cried out, his back arching off the dock as Niki began to stroke him slowly, savoring the velvety texture.

"God, you feel incredible," Niki murmured, pumping Mn faster. "Can't wait to be buried deep inside you."

Mn's eyes rolled back, his grip on Niki's shoulders tightening. "Please, Niki...touch me everywhere..." he panted, his hips bucking into Niki's fist.

With a swift motion, Niki stripped off his own clothes, revealing his chiseled physique glistening with sweat in the moonlight. He positioned himself between Mn's spread thighs, the head of his cock brushing against Mn's slick entrance.

"I'm gonna take you slow and easy, baby," Niki promised, his voice husky with anticipation. "But once I start, I won't stop until we're both screaming with pleasure."

With that, he pushed forward, sinking inch by delicious inch into Mn's tight heat. Mn's back bowed, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as he adjusted to the sizeable intrusion.

Niki paused, giving Mn a moment to acclimate, before beginning to move. He set a leisurely pace, withdrawing almost completely before plunging back in, his thick shaft stretching Mn deliciously with each thrust.

Mn clung to Niki, his nails raking down Niki's back as he met each powerful drive with an eager lift of his hips. Their bodies moved in perfect sync, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing across the riverbank. “Fuck your hole is eating me up”, Niki moaned as he saw his dick go in and out of Mn’s pretty pink tight hole

Niki leaned down to capture Mn's mouth in a fierce kiss, swallowing his lover's whimpers and moans. His hands slid beneath Mn's ass, gripping the firm globes and pulling him closer, allowing him to piston deeper into Mn's welcoming heat.

“Ni-ki…fuck”, Mn could only mumble as he felt his ass being stretched by Niki’s big dick.

The pressure built, coiling tighter and tighter within them until finally, with a hoarse cry, they came undone. Niki's cock pulsed as he spilled his release inside Mn, while Mn's orgasm rocked through him, his vision blurring at the edges.

As the aftershocks subsided, Niki collapsed onto Mn, their chests heaving in unison. They lay entwined, basking in the afterglow of their passion.

After a moment, Niki lifted his head, gazing down at Mn with a tender expression. "That was incredible, Mn," he said, his voice filled with awe and gratitude. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this."

Mn smiled up at him, his eyes shining with happiness. "Me too, Niki. More than you can imagine."

Niki pressed a gentle kiss to Mn's forehead. "We should probably get cleaned up and sneak back inside before anyone notices we're missing," he suggested, reluctantly disentangling their limbs.

Mn nodded, sitting up and reaching for his clothes.

As they dressed in comfortable silence, Niki couldn't help but steal glances at Mn, marveling at the intimacy they had shared. He felt a sense of completeness, like a piece of him had clicked into place.

Once they were presentable again, Niki took Mn's hand, leading him back up the riverbank path. As they neared the house, he squeezed Mn's fingers reassuringly. "Whatever happens next, remember - you're mine now, Mn. And I'll never let you go."

Mn's heart skipped a beat at Niki's possessive declaration, a thrill of excitement mixed with trepidation coursing through him. He knew their relationship would never be the same, but he was ready to embrace whatever came next, as long as it meant staying by Niki's side.

©️ flowerbunnyboo 2024. all rights reserved to me. please don't copy my work or reshare without my permission and credit

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

���Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

taglist: @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @alelo23 @scill-a @multifan-idk @presleycaudle

[saintzweig]

poly boyfriends!artrick x reader headcanons

– THANK YOU FOR 500!! ily guys thank you for your support, i appreciate every single one of you truly 🥹 this is pretty simple, just fluff and domesticity. barely proofread because i'm me :p also feedback (on all my works) is appreciated so please feel free

ꢾ꣒ everyone knew that patrick and art were best friends, they were always together. tennis matches, classes, parties, you name it. it was nearly impossible for them to be apart for longer than an hour.

ꢾ꣒ but nobody knew they were together together. behind closed doors, hands were all over each other and lips locked. soft 'i love you's' whispered into each other's ears.

ꢾ꣒ patrick didn't care about people knowing but his partner did, it was something art wasn't ready for and he respected that.

ꢾ꣒ when patrick left for tour, art had a hard time adjusting. he didn't really have any friends aside from his boyfriend and tashi, who was always busy with tennis.

ꢾ꣒ so patrick encouraged him to join extracurriculars aside from the tennis team, convincing him that it would help broaden his network and all that stuff.

ꢾ꣒ that's how art ended up at your baking club, he didn't know how to bake but it was either this or the robotics club. you assured him that that's okay, he's here to learn anyways.

ꢾ꣒ it was you, him and a few more people that would meet up atleast twice a month at the assigned members' house. not his, seeing as he lived in the dorms.

ꢾ꣒ you were patient with him which he appreciated, you didn't make him feel dumb for struggling to follow even the simplest instructions neither did you make him feel out of place for being a man learning how to bake. (it was the 2000s, ok)

ꢾ꣒ one night, he dreamt about you in a way that made his heart race until he woke up. he was in a mood for the entire day after that, feeling so guilty because you were his friend and well, he has a boyfriend.

ꢾ꣒ he talked to patrick about it, not wanting to keep anything from him but he was surprised to hear his boyfriend be so casual about it. "it's fine, it was just a dream, it'll pass. plus you're allowed to find other people attractive."

ꢾ꣒ and art hoped it would pass, until it had been two months since and all it did was grew. into a real, stupid crush on you. he couldn't help the way his cheeks grew red or the way his heart skipped a beat whenever you would come near him during your club meetings.

ꢾ꣒ when patrick came back from tour, art couldn't stop himself from tearing up out of guilt. clutching the latter's shirt tightly and furiously apologizing for feeling this way.

ꢾ꣒ that's when they opened up the conversation about the possibility of art being polyamorous.

ꢾ꣒ the next club meeting, which was held at yours again, art brought patrick with him. and when patrick saw you, he understood almost immediately why art was so into you.

ꢾ꣒ despite your disheveled hair, dirty apron and streaks of flour on your cheek, you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. even surpassing his previous crush on tashi duncan.

ꢾ꣒ when art saw his reaction, he felt a burn in his chest. not out of jealousy but rather at the idea of extending their love to you, if you accepted.

ꢾ꣒ you and art decided to bake a cake together while patrick spectated, he's not to be trusted in the kitchen (they learned that the hard way)

ꢾ꣒ art stood on your right while patrick on the other, you were in the middle of them whisking the cake mix.

ꢾ꣒ patrick dipped a finger into the mixture before placing it into his mouth, causing art to softly glare at him for his lack of manners but the look was disregarded.

ꢾ꣒ "so... has my boyfriend been a good club member?"

ꢾ꣒ you couldn't help the way your breath hitched, glancing between the two of them with wide eyes. "boyfriend?"

ꢾ꣒ "aw, you don't talk about me, artie?"

ꢾ꣒ you stood there silently as embarrassment creeped all over your body. you had this idea that maybe art was single and into you, but now his boyfriend was right there, telling you all about their relationship.

ꢾ꣒ patrick immediately clocked your reaction, grinning down at you. "you like him, don't you?"

ꢾ꣒ you swear you nearly died from choking on your own saliva.

ꢾ꣒ "don't worry, sweetheart. he likes you too, a lot"

ꢾ꣒ things escalated quite quickly from then on, the three of you spending most days together at your house or on the tennis court, art walking you to your classes almost everyday and going out whenever patrick is home from tour.

ꢾ꣒ art slept over a lot at yours, his arm tucked under your head and the other draping around your waist while your laptop was on your bedside table, camera on and patrick sleeping on the screen.

ꢾ꣒ it was a little hard to navigate because you made sure to tread carefully as to not leave anyone out but for the most part, it was comfortable and sweet.

ꢾ꣒ patrick was loud and outgoing, art was more introverted and gentle while you were the one that kept the balance between their somehow similar yet contrasting personalities.

ꢾ꣒ you kept patrick in line and helped art learn how to put himself first.

ꢾ꣒ everyone thought that you were dating only one of them, which was fair seeing as how they saw you the most with art

ꢾ꣒ you didn't mind, although it was a little disheartening because you wanted people to know that patrick was your boyfriend too.

ꢾ꣒ and because no one knew patrick was in a relationship, he had a lot of people coming up to him and asking him out.

ꢾ꣒ art had enough one day when the two of you overheard a group of friends objectifying talking about patrick.

ꢾ꣒ when patrick walked up to the two of you before his game, their conversation only got more loud and obnoxious in hopes to catch his attention and art couldn't stop himself from pulling the brunette in for a very passionate kiss. "you're cute when you're jealous, donaldson"

ꢾ꣒ patrick played the entire game with a smirk on his face while art had his head nuzzled into your neck in embarrassment, "why did i do that?"

ꢾ꣒ after graduating university, art joined patrick in going pro, often travelling together.

ꢾ꣒ you opened a small baking business that you would often operate inside your shared apartment until you've saved up enough to rent a place for a small bakery.

ꢾ꣒ when the two boys are home, art, being the sweet boy he is, would help you with orders while patrick is in charge of choosing a movie and what to get for takeout.

ꢾ꣒ although patrick gets bored pretty easily especially when you two were taking long in the kitchen, he'd sneak in and try to distract the two of you. snaking his arms around your waist and trail kisses down from your jaw to your neck.

ꢾ꣒ of course he doesn't want art to feel left out so he'd remove one arm around your waist to reach over and squeeze art's behind, earning him a handful of flour thrown onto his pretty face.

ꢾ꣒ it's a little unconventional sure, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

[cherrycranes]

Claustrophobia (Edward Dillinger Jr. x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Edward Dillinger Jr x female reader Summary: What's worse than getting stuck in an elevator when you're claustrophobic? Being stuck in an elevator with your hot boss/work crush when you're claustrophobic! Word count: 5,141 Contents: Slight age gap (Reader is in her 20's, Edward is in his early 30's), only one use of Y/N, reader is claustrophobic, reader has a panic attack, virgin reader, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, pulling out, technically public sex. Edward asks for consent a lot. Author's notes: This is a collab with my dear @lauuren! She wrote the intro and the oral sex scene and I am in awe at her talent. I desperately want to spread the "stan Edward Dillinger Jr" agenda. I will not stop. There's a character playlist I made about him at the end of this fic. Please stan Edward Dillinger Jr, Lauren and I are all alone in this boat.

A quiet ding could be heard throughout an empty modern hallway of the ENCOM building, announcing that the elevator had just arrived at your floor. After both automatic doors had slid open, and a quiet sigh escaped your lips, your steps made their way inside the confined space of the machine.

Not only a second after, a loud confident stride joined you inside, just before the doors closed. You already knew who the person was just by the sound of his fine leather boots on the floor, and by his signature scent you, oh, so adored.

Your boss, Ed, or rather Mister Dillinger, as you usually called him, stood right next to you, fixing his navy bow-tie. You caught a glimpse of him with your peripheral vision and you felt your cheeks burning with heat. And not just them. The shameless sensation reached your pussy at record speed and you could feel the fabric of your crimson-colored panties getting slightly damp. Something that had been happening ever since you started working for him.

It was his nicely ironed dark blue suit, his silky-smooth vest, his glasses, or maybe the way he stood there paying attention to the screen of his iPad - it all sent shivers to all the right places. The places you never even knew you could feel something at.

“Evening, sir.” You chirped, hoping to catch his attention.

His head turned upwards from the tablet, his eyes finding your own. He fixed the glasses on the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and you were fighting all your inner demons to not stare at them.

“Ah, Y/N…” His sentence was interrupted by a weird rambling and a thud. The lights of the elevator flickered a few times, and the machine stopped.

You always felt kind of nauseous every time you stepped into that elevator. All your muscles tensed and your breathing got slightly shallow until you got off. But being stuck in such a horrible and confined space really did not help your claustrophobia. Quite the opposite… You felt panic starting to flood your mind, darkening it with fear.

“Oh, my God.” A last breath of tranquility escaped your lips when everything above and below you stopped dead on its tracks. And the brief flicker of the lights prevented it from coming back to you.

Your desperate fingers broke through a tremor and frantically pressed every button that looked like an emergency one. And then, when the elevator doors did not magically open, you rushed to double-press every single button to no avail. 

“Shit!” You exhaled, giving up and giving in into your worst fear. The metal around you sizzled and constricted like it burnt, your vision blurred and the pressure in your stomach made you feel so hollow yet so heavy. The tortuous beating of your heart took over your ears so loudly, you didn't catch your boss' voice. It wasn't until his hand touched your shoulder, that you could make out the words.

“Hey... Relax.... Relax.” Edward repeated, his voice so unfazed, like it wasn't his first time stuck in there. You didn't turn to face him, it would have mortified you twice as much. So you pressed your forehead against the wall, finding it colder than expected.

“Calm down, people will come for us. It won't take long, I promise... Just calm down, breathe with me…”

It was all a big, draining whirlwind you were trapped in, but somehow you found the will in you to follow him. Seven seconds of air filling your lungs, five of holding it there and six of exhaling it. Repeated several times until your feet were back on the ground and your forehead felt the wall warming up to your touch. 

“That's it... It's ok…” Edward repeated, his hand very gently touched your upper arm and slowly pulled you away from the useless button board and towards his chest. He must have set his Ipad down on the elevator floor during your panic, because he carefully guided you with both hands towards the center. You calmed down a little more, putting all your focus on the right amount of seconds for each breathing phase. With all the gentleness he had, he started to sit you both down, with you between his legs, your back against his chest and your ear close to his lips.

“Easy… That’s good… You’re ok… You’re going to be ok…” He kept soothing you, his hands rubbing comforting circles over your arms. Slowly but surely, it had an effect on you. And then it finally hit you: you had just had a panic attack. IN FRONT OF YOUR BOSS/WORK CRUSH. And while you dreaded thinking about it, you wished the elevator would just plummet down the building. 

“You know, this has happened to me two times before… The longest I’ve been here is about 15 minutes… They always notice if there’s something wrong with the elevators.” Edward’s warm voice snapped you out of your thoughts. At least a rescue was ensured. But that still didn’t fix your embarrassment… Oh, God must really like seeing you suffer. What must Mister Dillinger think of you now? He must think you’re pathetic and stupid and…

“So don’t worry, baby…. I’m here with you…” Baby… BABY. You almost didn’t believe it. And you would have told yourself it was an auditory illusion but then, his hand slowly started to move down your arms. His lips and stubble caressed your ear, giving you a good shiver. Edward kept whispering soft praises the more you relaxed and you felt in heaven.

“Good girl.” He murmured, and your cheeks burned. The cheeky little warmth your pussy always felt when he was near returned with renewed intensity now that you were in his arms, and now that you were “baby” and “good girl”. 

His left hand stopped tracing circles on your arm and traveled to your chest, tenderly lazing over the side of your breast. Not kneading it or even attempting to cup it, just lingering there in a silent plea for permission.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop…” His voice was soft against your ear, his hands completely stayed still over your beautiful body, expectant for a cue or a full on red light. You had found that his touch had a soothing effect on you. There was something so calming about his big hands, his warmth and, on top of all things, his understanding nature.

“Don’t stop…” More than a cue, this was a soft little plea. You needed to feel him all over you, his warmth washing away the fear and the constriction. 

On command, his hand on your breast kneaded the flesh so softly over your bra until he found your nipple, making you moan quietly.

“That’s it… Just relax… Let me take care of you…” His voice was huskier now. The combination of his stubble and his breath on your ear was a sensory experience drawn out straight from your fantasies. You obeyed, the last bits of tension in your body fading away the more he fondled your now hardened nipple.

As for Edward, he swallowed thickly, his cock was growing uncomfortably harder in his tight pants. A desperate need started to tug on his reason and he swiftly moved onto the next step when he noted your new calmness and your quiet moans. 

“Is this ok?” He whispered again, making your eyelashes flutter and your lips part when the hand that wasn’t massaging your breast reverently and very carefully traveled down your abdomen. You nodded and he smiled ever so slightly before taking in the shape of your thigh with his palm.

That morning when you picked out your outfit, you decided against a pair of pants for not matching with your new shoes, and God, you were glad you had. Because instead, you chose to wear a cute black skirt and stockings that Edward now palmed in admiration. 

“I’ve never told you… But you always look so stunning…” He confessed to the skin of your neck before planting a soft kiss there, getting a reaction out of your needier and needier body. Your underwear felt damp and your lower abdomen felt hotter, lonelier.

As if he had detected it, Edward rode up your skirt slowly at first, in his usual search for permission. When you nodded again, he continued, exposing the sheer fabric of your stockings and then, a view that made him smile, your crimson panties with a flirty lace trim. 

“Naughty little girl.” Edward couldn't contain himself. Your choice of underwear had been unintentional. All your panties that would have been more suitable for a black skirt were in the laundry and your choices were limited. But you pretended it was a deliberate seduction tactic. Perhaps part of a plan to cross your legs in front of him, or bend down to pick up something at the office so he could have an ‘accidental’ little peek. Whichever way, he was a fan. His thick fingers lowered them well enough to see your little bush, something that got a guttural sound out of him.

“Just how I like them.” He growled. His fingers attracted to your heat like a magnet to metal. He ran two digits across your needy cunt, rewarding you for being so wet for him with a lustful kiss. You moaned softly once more, your eyes closed as you let the feeling sink in. You spread your legs a bit further, only hearing his breaths, the smacking of your lips together and, of course, the sounds of your slick arousal.

"God... Hear that? Hear how wet you are? Is that all for me, babe?" He gently broke the kiss and his whisper teased the skin of your earlobe along with his stubble. His fingers slowly buried themselves into your tight cunt, this time spreading you open with a scissoring motion. His index and middle fingers stretched you once experimentally, making you gasp and whine and making him groan in a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, don't tell me you're still a virgin, baby? A pretty girl like you?" He teased, half in disbelief, half in arrogance. He was going to be your first then? That knowledge filled him with a greedy, possessive, perhaps a little old-fashioned pride. Nobody had touched you or had you before. You were going to be all his. He smirked like a devil and continued his motions to get you ready for his cock.

You moaned again, lost to the lust and willing to be his, when suddenly, a sound made you clam up and open your eyes widely. Two voices outside the elevator, loudly complaining that the machine was not working.

"Mister Dillinger..." You tried to warn him in a rising panic despite the coup d’état your pussy threw over your brain. Somebody had to be the voice of reason here. Remind you both that you were stuck in the elevator, that the people you just heard could hear you. And even if they didn’t,  they would still try to get the doors to slide open. And if they did, they would discover you two were fucking in there. The embarrassment made your cheeks even redder. Or maybe it was the feeling of his fingers that kept massaging your walls. It got hard to think, your cunt only got wetter and your mind cloudier. You moaned so softly, so needily, eliciting another groan from him.

"Ed. Just call me Ed." He completely ignored the voices and whispered into your neck, placing soft kisses that led him lower and lower. His hand left your heat for a moment, making you whine in protest.

"Ed..." You called out for him. Your anxiety at being caught dissolved in your dampness. The absence of his thick fingers in you pushing you over the edge of carefulness. You've wanted him for so long, your entire body begged for his touch. 

A third voice from the outside almost pulled you out of this renewed state. But as soon as you heard the relief in that voice, telling the other two about the other elevator that still worked, you relaxed. All voices disappeared away and all you could hear now was the heavy breathing of Ed, who never stopped kissing your neck and touching you. It was the first time in your life you were glad that people who could have rescued you didn’t even notice you were there. 

“That’s it, pretty girl… It’s ok.” Ed placed another slow, rewarding kiss on your lips, and you were lost on him again. Finally, there was no tension left that could block your true wants.

He noticed that right away. His hands that roamed slowly over your breasts and waist started to travel to your hips. 

“Are you ready?” You were not sure what he meant exactly, but you were ready for anything.

“Yes.” You replied and he wasted no time. He groaned softly as he manhandled you in a 180 turn, pinning you down against the elevator floor with your knees up.

"These have to go. You're so pretty to be all covered up." Edward charmed you while he fully took off your crimson panties, tossing them aside. Once they were off, he delighted in the sight of your wet cunt. So pretty and needy. It made his cock twitch in his pants and his tongue lick his lips. A low growl of approval, more than that, rumbled in his throat.

Your arousal successfully lured him in. Each hand took hold of one of your thighs to spread you open, his grip on the soft flesh firm but careful. He didn't want to scare you, he wanted you to feel revered and beautiful. Confident and determined. He wanted you to want him as much as he wanted you. So he looked into your eyes, his pupils behind his glasses were so dillated it made something in you flutter.

"Tell me what makes you feel good." He whispered, lost in your gaze, before lowering his mouth to your clit.

You quickly tried to figure out what you liked, but since you had never done anything like this before, you didn’t know what you preferred and what not. Of course you touched yourself on the loneliest of nights, however that was completely different.

“I…”

But the single-worded reply was everything you were able to say, before a loud gasp left your lips as his mouth connected with the already sensitive skin of your damp folds. The mere feather-like contact of his lips and stubble against you was enough to throw you off edge. 

Your reaction caused his smirk to be more prominent. He opened his mouth wider as his hot breath tickled you – a prediction of his drool-covered tongue licking a fat stripe down your wet cunt. He started moving it up and down at a slow but teasing pace, wanting to reach and explore every little space and corner of your arousal, wanting to taste and devour all of you. 

“Mmhh…” your quivering voice creating a pleasurable melody for his ears.

The tip of his nose was buried at your clit, right under the bushy cut, pressuring against the receptive spot. Ed was relishing at the fact the touch increased the shivering of your already tensed up muscles, bringing you close to release of the tight knot in your lower stomach.

Adding his lips to the skilled movements of his tongue, he started sucking your clit and folds. Your breathless moans heightened on the frequency and volume. The man was hungrily lapping out on you as if you were a fine five course meal and he was a starved animal. And God, saying he could not get enough was a light word. 

“Ed-” you whined his name. “Uhh, oh God!” 

A groan formed deep down in his chest rambled out of his throat, vibrating at your slick pussy. His hands gripped at the flesh of your hips and thighs tighter, not letting you shift even an inch away from him. Your juices mixed with his drool tasted as if heaven itself landed in his mouth. It was like an addictive drug possessing all his senses.

“Fuck, you taste divine.” he was able to quickly mutter before getting back to eating you out until you would be a trembling mess.

Your hips started bucking and squirming, and he knew you were close. And he couldn't wait for the sweet treat in the form of your orgasm. His tongue kept torturing your throbbing cunt. The heat of the moment and your wetness made his glasses foggy, but your boss did not care. There was no way for him to stop now.

The merciless movements of his mouth continued until the tight knot in your abdomen finally untied as you reached the peak of pure bliss, with your moans following along. He slurped on everything, what came out as if it was the most delicious dessert he had ever eaten. 

"That's it... You're ready for me, baby." Edward whispered. His index and middle fingers traced a sticky line across your pussy, proudly showing just how eager you were for his fat cock. You moaned softly at the touch, more than aware of what you wanted: him.

“Oh God, Ed, please…” You begged ever so softly, guided by the hand by your need. Ed found it so exquisite he didn’t know when his hand reached for your cheek to cup it so tenderly.

“‘Please’ what, baby? Tell me.” His voice was a warm whisper that kept you at ease, a complete contrast to the fuss between your thighs. And he knew it. He reveled in the look in your eyes, in the way your folds clenched the air. Your mere presence had him addicted already, and he still hadn't been inside you. Yet…

“Please… Fuck me…” Embarrassment be damned, you thought, your body begged and cried for him. You wanted him not just inside your thoughts every day, you needed him everywhere he could fit in. 

“Say it again.” He commanded firmly but still with gentleness towards you. He just wanted to hear something so filthy come out of your innocent lips again. His thumb traced a path of adoration on your cheek. His baby blues glimmered like a beacon with the lights of the elevator.

“Please, fuck me…” Another sweet whisper for his ears’ delight. He smiled in a mixture of tenderness and desire. He would not make you wait much longer, it would be torture for the two of you.

“As you wish, babe.” His voice was slightly hoarse already. He never once stopped looking at you as he unzipped his black pants and lowered them just enough. He would have wished he could undress completely. Have your soft skin bare against him so every inch of his being could memorize the feeling of you. But your circumstances were not ideal. He still held out hope for a rescue. And if the elevator doors slid open mid-fuck for a bunch of concerned ENCOM employees to see, he would at least appreciate to still be mostly clothed.

Lucky for you, the elevator was still stuck, and Ed was free to release his hard cock from the confines of his dark blue Calvin Kleins. 

He let out a hoarse sigh, and you gasped softly. You had seen penises before (your reaction to seeing his made you feel like a sheltered Victorian girl), but you had never seen one that was this close and erect for you. 

You swallowed thickly at the sight. He was not pornographically big, but ‘small’ was not a term you would use to describe it. It was a perfectly fine cock with a pink mushroom tip that would have made you smile had you not been a little nervous. You could barely tell from the confines of his underwear, but it seemed like he was well groomed down there. He did look like he took good care of himself in general. This only made you a little self conscious as you remembered that your own little bush was on display. Not that he seemed to mind. You had to remind yourself that he had just gotten back from gladly eating you out.

With an immediate drive, Ed used the remains of your wetness on his fingers to lube himself up as much as he could, just so he could give his cock a few pumps that made his eyes close for a moment and his eyebrows furrow. He was so ready for you it could drive him insane. And you, despite the nerves, could feel the neediest parts of your mind and body luring him in.

It worked. Ed crawled towards you, his body caging you in. You thanked the architects and designers of this elevator for making it wide enough for missionary. Had it not been you would have probably had to lose your virginity against the wall. Or, if Edward wanted to be nice and considerate to you, in an awkward kneeling missionary position that, you figured, would work better on a bed. Fuck his knees, he would have done it even if it hurt. But lucky for his 30-something-year-old patellae and ligaments, this elevator had space. God bless ENCOM.

“It's ok… Relax and tell me if you ever want to stop.” He whispered. Once again, his eyes focused on yours, on your face. Studying every micro-expression in search for any hesitation, discomfort or a single trace of your previous panic. He only found understandable nervousness and also a gleam of desire that made him warmer. Gone was his usual cockiness for the time being. He was going to be the gentlest man in the world for you.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he shifted closer towards you. A sweet gasp resonated when you felt the tip of his cock poking at your slick entrance. You nodded, and your hands reached up to feel his back. He groaned in pleasure when he started to push inside you, finding his brand new addiction.

“Fuck… You're so tight.” He uttered, completely taken by the feeling of you. His thick eyelashes fluttered and he licked his lower lip in automatic. The tip easily slided in. 

You whimpered and furrowed your brow, it was hurting much less than what you had always expected, but it was still something to get used to. 

He buried himself to the hilt, groaning and panting. The veins of his cock pumping viciously, making it twitch a little. To relax you, he took your mouth in a gentle kiss, nothing too demanding to balance out the arduous work he made your small pussy do. You moaned gently into his mouth, your hands felt him up over his vest. On your own, you put more passion into the kiss, and when your cunt throbbed around him and he was able to slide a little bit more inside you, he knew you were ready.

Carefully, he thrusted in and you moaned. He moved with you, setting up a nice and easy rhythm that was just perfect for you. It all felt so slick, so hot. He was fully lost. Pride swelling up his chest at the fact that he had just popped your cherry, trying to interfere with the gentleman he was being with you. It could be so easy to let go of his sweetness. It was not every day when he had sex with somebody as innocent as you. In fact, it was the first time he was with somebody inexperienced. But no, he was going to remain gentle. There would be other occasions for the roughness.

Soon enough, the elevator filled with your moans and his low grunts, along with the sounds of your bodies colliding. He was in heaven. Your body, your voice, your lips, your tightness. You were an obsession that was going to haunt him and his dreams for evermore. 

And you, so needy and delicious, were almost incredulous to the fact that you were living out your recurring daydream scenario. All the nights you felt desire taking over you would stroke your clit and imagine your fingers belonged to your unreachable boss. Daring to dream that this man would ever do that to you. You moaned again when his actual fingers snaked between your thrusting bodies to draw sweet circles around your clit. Reminding you that this was very much real.

“That’s good. You’re doing so good.” He praised with his voice husky, and your pussy throbbed around him. He took it as a sign, going a little faster on you. With both hips and fingers.

He groaned wholeheartedly, sending electricity through you with the circles on your clit. Your pussy clenched around him like a vice, and it was driving him absolutely insane.

“God, baby. I’m gonna fill you up so good.” He whispered absentmindedly, reason unavailable from his pleasure and the feeling of you. In his remaining thoughts, he saw a near future where you walked the ENCOM halls with his cum dripping down your inner thighs. But you, much more aware of the consequences since they would mostly affect you, snapped out of your own haze.

"Wait... Fill?" You asked. Your old friend Anxiety paying you a little visit once more.

"Oh… Are you on birth control?" Ed managed to formulate once he took notice that his fantasies couldn’t always coexist with reality. His labored breath seeped through each syllable. His hips never once stopped moving. A ticking time bomb.

"No..." You admitted. Worry clawing its way out of your arousal-clouded mind. But even then, your cunt had a life of its own. Throbbing all around him in an act of rebellion, drawing a moan out of you and a low groan out of Ed. You saw the pale blue of his iris roll back a little in between fluttering eyelashes before he fought back for control over himself.

"Fuck... Can't risk it... I'm pulling out, ok?" He struggled to talk as his slow thrusts faltered a little. All he needed now was your consent to pound you into the elevator floor and pull out before it was too late. God help him.

You nodded eagerly, holding onto his back and the fabric of his vest. Once he saw you, he went ruthless with you. 

“Shit… Shit!” He moaned, his pace grew desperately faster. It was a race to see what would come faster: a rescue, or him.

Your moans became mantras with Ed’s faster pace. Your toes started to curl inside your shoes and your nails wished they were sinking on his skin and not his clothes. That was the last coherent thought you had for the time being as his cock hit your sweet spot right in the middle. You howled, Ed got the hint. He managed to hold your hip with one hand to keep you there, trapped between the strong pumps and the waves of pleasure this sent through you.

“Ed!” You cried out, unable to handle this for much longer. He huffed in response, attacking your cunt with another series of deep thrusts that made you whine.

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me.” His word was your command, it seemed. Fact is, you didn’t need much longer to be sent over the edge. Your back arched, making your clothed breasts press against his chest, to which he moaned. The last sound you heard before your scream of pleasure. 

Your wet, throbbing, creamy pussy sent the biggest, most wanted orgasm it could have ever given you, all over your nervous system. Making you milk his cock in desperation. He didn’t last a few more seconds upon feeling that all around him.

He thrusted one last, faltering time before painfully detaching himself from your addictive cunt. Quickly, he grabbed the first thing he found: your crimson panties, and clutched them around the head of his penis, whimpering when he used them to contain his spurting cum and not make a mess out of this elevator, or worse, of you. 

You watched the scene unfold. Ed opened his mouth in what it seemed like the most pleasurable yawn of his life and shut his beautiful eyes when he came. His jaw trembled for a moment and he made an attractive sound before the last drop of semen coated your panties. He panted there for a moment, holding his covered cock until he had the stamina to wipe off his tip, half-assedly fold your panties, leave them on the elevator floor and, finally, rest himself on top of you, fully satisfied.

You struggled to catch your breath with the remainder of his weight on you. You could have stayed right there, committing the post orgasmic feeling to memory so you always carried it with you. But a flicker of the elevator lights and a sudden movement dragged you out of the little death and sat you both up. For a moment you feared the worst case scenario.

“What’s-” You didn’t even formulate your question properly when the familiar movement of an elevator going up as if nothing had happened made your already racing heart jump. 

“Oh, shit… It’s working again!…” Edward deciphered with relief, pointing towards the digital numbers on the elevator screen that counted the floor numbers. In your own relief and your gratefulness your eyes grew wide when you remembered the state you were both in.

“Shit!” You whispered, gently pushing him off of you in desperation to get proper again. He got the hint immediately and stood up with the help of the elevator wall. The hand that had been inside you took yours and he lifted you back on your feet.

It all became a blur of clothes being straightened up; thigh high socks, blouse, his zipper. When you looked around for your panties, you only saw him shamelessly shoving something crimson down his pocket and looking at you with a cocky grin.

"Can't let you go out there with filthy panties, babe." Edward explained so nonchalantly he almost convinced you. But you didn't have time to disagree and protest as the elevator stopped on the floor you had initially wanted to go to, and so, before the doors slid open, you unrolled your skirt in a swift motion and prayed that nobody would notice.

"See you." The cocky bastard picked his IPad from the floor and stepped out into the hallway, fixing his glasses before turning to look back at you. It was then, with his vision clear again, he noticed something in the upper back corner of the elevator that had been there all along, too hidden for lustful eyes that only looked into each other and never around: a security camera pointing towards the middle of the metallic floor.

As promised, here is the Ed Dillinger Jr playlist. It has a LOT of Daft Punk cause I headcanon that he's a big fan. Plus some songs I think fit him lyrically or just for the vibes.

[soo0hee]

Fun Time

Pairing — Chwe Hansol x afab!Reader

Summary — Visiting your brother you met one of his member. To bad that you liked to have a little fun... Requested by @cyd0129 , i hope you like it!

Genre — fluff

Warnings — none

Word Count — 1.1k

Rating — sfw

A/N — @tusswrites & @svtiddiess thanks for brainstorming this with me <3

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Visiting your brother at his job was always fun. Watching him turn simple melodies and beats into full fledged songs that would maybe, possibly, end up on an album of their group always gave you a sense of calmness that you rarely ever got to feel.

And while the Universe Factory was almost like a meeting point of Seventeen members, you had never gotten to meet every single one of them. It was funny almost but Woozi had always been a little mysterious when it came to his family, so neither you, nor the members who knew about you were surprised about their producer keeping this detail to himself.

And Woozi wanted to protect himself from the chaos that was doomed to happen if you and certain members of his were to ever meet eachother.

To protect his piece of mind, is what he told you once over dinner at your apartment. You had cackled at his serious expression but accepted his reasoning knowing that you indeed could be a little menace if you wanted to.

With your from your brother requester personal lanyard dangling from your neck and bubble tea in your hand you walked through the lobby of the Hybe Building. It surprised you how well recognition system worked as you remembered last times visit where you had needed almost 20 minutes and a staff members help to actually get inside.

Walking up to the elevator with your earbuds blasting music straight into your brain, you took out your phone to text your brother of your incoming arrival when you noticed the text he had send you a bit ago.

Universe Factory is empty. Am in Studio 7. Meet me there? – received 2:31 pm

For a moment your brain blanked just as the Elevator arrived with a Ding.

The Universe Factory you knew where to find, Studio 717 however you had no idea. It was a practice room, that much you knew, but when it came to the location, you were absolutely lost.

Maybe you should ask someone? One of the staffs? No, they had already stared like you had frown to heads when you walked in with your own Lanyard! There was no need for you to receive those stares a second time.

So you pressed the Button with the number 7, hoping that the first number of the studio was the indicator of the Level you had to go to.

The doors closed and you went up just to stop at the second floor.

A familiar face appeared behind the door. A face that you had seen a million times already on press pictures, photo shootings or the group selcas Woozi loved to send you every then and now.

A few that had yet to meet you however.

Vernon was one of those members that you were being hidden from, until now.

The hip hop team maknae only nodded in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the lanyard to verify that you had the right to be there.

He pushed the button to the 9th floor.

“You going to the finance department?” Vernon asked smoothly in korean.

An idea struck you that couldn’t passed up.

Fanning confusion you stared back at him and answered in perfect English with, “I’m sorry, what?”

It took Vernon a second to make the switch in language before asking again if you were going to the finance department. This time in english.

“Uhm, no. I was actually searching for the Studios… I have an appointment there.” You said without feeling bad for lying, internally groaning that your hopes of your destination being on the 7th floor had been crushed just like that.

“The Studios are on the 8th floor.” Vernon answered, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

That one you knew. But-

“And the practice rooms? I need to be in 717 to meet someone.”

Now that made the Rapper curious. 717 was their Practice room! What was a stranger like doing in their practice room?!

Admittedly, a very beautiful stranger, but a stranger none the less.

“Uhmm, I could take you? It’s where I’m headed right now! But only if you tell me what kind of business you have there.” He offered. You could clearly hear the teasing tilt in his voice.

You played along.

“I’m a new choreographer. They called me to take a look at a choreography for what I’m guessing is your group if you are headed there. Preparation for a new comeback?”

The elevators door opened on the 7th floor.

Vernon swallowed. A new choreographer meant changes to the already existing choreo and he prayed that wasn’t the case.

The elevator closed.

He hummed quietly, agreeing with the last part.

“Yeah, I’m from Seventeen. Vernon.”

“Nice to meet you Vernon. I’m y/n. Pleased to meet you.” You grinned and bit your lip to prevent laughing out loud at the dumbfound face he made.

Vernon on the other hand had trouble to keep his composure. Something about the way you smiled at him and the accent of your English had his ears heat up.

Once the Elevator opened again, he almost fled out into the hallway while you slowly followed with a snicker hidden by your head over your mouth.

“This way please!”

The member od Seventeen were known to be a magnet for chaos and this was proven again when you could hear the loud screams of who you guessed would be Seokmin and Mingyu behind the closed door.

Vernon snorted at the sounds his members made inside. Reminding him of a seal at times like this.

Like a gentleman Vernon opened the door and let you inside. There were only a few members of the group, one being your brother and almost none of the staff.

“Did someone know that we have a new chorographer?” he yelled in korean towards the guys, thinking that you weren’t able to understand him like this.

It was comical how fast all heads whipped around to stare at him.

Woozi groaned upon seeing you standing behind Vernon while grinning like a cat.

The few members who had recognized you smiled in amusement.

“Aish! Lee y/n! Did you prank him? Vernon-ah, this isn’t a choreographer. She’s my sister.” The producer sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Ah Jihoon-ah, why rat me out so fast?” you complained with a whine.

Vernon, confused and a little dazed at the turn of events had to pick his jaw up from the floor. Stammering at you with a pout. Joshua patted his back while passing him.

“I see you have met y/n.”

“She- she’s not a-“

“All she is, is a brat!” Jihoon answered and slapped the back of your head gently with his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to leave.

“You’re no fun Jihoon-ah.” You called after him.

“Just come with me so we can get some food!” was the response echoing from the hallway.

You turned back to Vernon.

“It was nice to meet you, Vernon. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

With a wink and a flip of your hair you were out the door and gone.

The American slowly turned to Seokmin who didn’t bother holding back his laughter.

“And? What do you say?”

“Hyung…” the younger forced out star struck. “I think I’m in love…”

[fuckitupfelix]

ANON. LET ME COOK WITH THIS ANON.

third time's the charm !?

miya atsumu x male reader

word count: 1.8k

atsumu's self proclaimed "flirting" doesn't get him very far when the guy he's crushing on is absolutely clueless.

FEM ALIGNED DNI

atsumu miya is a fairly popular student. he’s quite well known among his classmates, and generally well liked. as a result, he’s grown a bit cocky. he considered himself a chick magnet— osamu jokes that he’s actually just a manwhore, to atsumu’s dismay— but the fact remains that he was attractive and he knew it, even if he never really acted on it. sure, he liked the attention, but when it came down to it, and osamu or suna ever prodded on why he didn’t get with any of the countless people leaving love letters in his locker, he would simply say they were ‘distractions’. his main focus was volleyball! he’d mess around here and there, but he would never take any of his little flings seriously. that’s what he’s been telling himself. he knows he could get with anyone, and he prides himself on that. it gives him a sense of power; a sense of control— until a certain (name) (surname) joined his class.

the teen had transferred into inarizaki in the middle of second year, and while he knew of the ‘wonder twins’ (he so aptly nicknamed them in his head) through friends and bits he’d seen online, he didn’t care much for them. as far as he was concerned, they were just teenagers. athletes with admirable skill, sure, but teenagers nonetheless. just the same as he was.

atsumu’s been pulling his hair out over the past few weeks because of (name)— his previous logic going straight out the window with the new transfer student. any and all attempts that the setter made to drop hints were futile. the guy was, to put it simply, far too dense.

ATTEMPT ONE: HOMEROOM.

upon (name’s) initial arrival, atsumu’s hooked immediately. it’s not like his introduction was anything crazy; the teacher called him in, he introduced himself, and sat down in the free seat next to suna and behind atsumu. but there’s something so appealing about the teen that draws atsumu in. the setter turns around in his seat, his usual lazy grin sprawled across his face.

“hey there. name’s miya atsumu,” he hums, before jutting a thumb towards the seat to (name’s) left. “that there’s suna rintaro.”

the expected reaction, if you know who he is— and he’s offended at the notion someone at his school potentially wouldn’t— would be absolute joy and surprise. instead, the new student responds with a, “oh. you’re the volleyball guys, right? nice to meet you two.”

suna has to bite back a snort at atsumu’s expression— his jaw dropped, his eye twitching. that’s it? “ya know who i am, yeah?” he asks, regaining his composure immediately. “ain’t i impressive?” he drawls.

“i guess? yeah. you’ve got impressive skill.” (name) responds, seemingly missing the way atsumu bristles at the lack of praise. he decides to flirt a little, wanting to throw this guy off his game.

“since ya missed some of the curriculum already, i can help ya study. get ya caught up.” atsumu says. he catches the way (name’s) face lights up and feels the pride bubbling in his chest. “really? that’d be such a big help! where should we meet up?”

“i was thinkin’ we could study at my place,” atsumu hums, voice a bit lower.

“. . . wouldn’t it be more productive if we went to a library or cafe? i also don’t wanna disturb your parents at all.” (name) replies. suna barks out a laugh, and atsumu shoves his shoulder. “shut it, suna!” he sputters.

“i’m definitely tellin’ ‘samu this later,” the teen snickers, leaning back in his chair. “‘n turn around, ‘tsumu, the lesson’s startin’.”

with a grumble, atsumu turns back to face the front, his arms crossed. there’s no way he just got blown off like that . .

ATTEMPT TWO: VENDING MACHINE.

atsumu refused to give up, even after the relentless nagging from suna to ‘quit being a pussy’ lasted for weeks on end. the two of them sat together with osamu and ginjima on their lunch, a figure slumped over the table, groaning dramatically; the person being atsumu, of course.

“could ya whine a lil quieter? i’ve gotta finish my history assignment and yer bein’ distractin’,” suna says, prodding at atsumu’s crunchy hair— which only prompted another, longer, louder groan.

“i don’t get it! how oblivious is this guy gonna be?!” atsumu whines, his cheek pressed against the cool table. his teammates were going to comment on how none of his attempts were straightforward in the slightest, but decided to let him wallow a bit longer. with a sigh, atsumu stands from his seat, shoving his hands into his pockets. he just needs to clear his head.

“d’you guys want anything from the vending machine?” he asks. they tell him their respective requests, and he exits the cafeteria to find a free vending machine. as he’s wandering about, mind filled with thoughts and plans to get (name) to give in to his ‘flirting’, lo and behold, he’s right there, crouched in front of the vending machine. a pretty face contorted into a hardened expression, eyebrows furrowed as he scans the contents, before letting out a sigh and standing. he turns in the direction of atsumu, and he jumps a little.

“oh! miya-san, hey.” he hums. atsumu scoffs lightly at that, walking closer and leaning an arm against the edge of the vending machine. at this angle, he can see (name’s) face perfectly, the light from the window on the other wall shining beautifully against his skin. it makes him feel giddy.

“i told ya, you can jus’ call me atsumu. drop the honorifics already, (name),” he drawls, his signature smirk on his face. “ya grabbin’ a drink?” (name) nods. he frowns slightly, turning back to look at the vending machine. “i can’t decide what to get, though. any suggestions?”

it’s almost like a lightbulb sparks above atsumu’s head. he has a perfect idea. leaning over (name), he comes closer to the glass dividing them and the drinks, purposefully drawing his face inches away from (name).

“hm,” he narrows his eyes, pretending to think about it, before pointing to a peach tea can, letting that same arm loosely wrap above the other teen’s shoulder. “this peach tea’s pretty good. it’s sweet, just like you,” he says, adding that last part a little quieter.

this has to be it. (name) has to hear that and take the hint, atsumu thinks to himself. so when (name) turns, his face lighting up with joy, and he responds with, “that sounds perfect, man! thank you!” he gawks at the teen's obliviousness as he punches in ‘D-3’ on the keypad, sliding the coins in. the can falls down with a thud, and he takes it, walking off as he cracks it open and takes a sip.

atsumu really cannot catch a break.

ATTEMPT THREE: NATIONALS.

atsumu's been going at it in the gym for the entirety of his lunch break, practicing his serves, sending ball after ball over the net.

“i’m done!” atsumu sputters, his shoes squeaking as he jumps up, arms stretched out as he slams another volleyball across the court. it lands out, and he grits his teeth. “he's impossible! he keeps actin' all buddy-buddy with me!”

osamu snorts at his brother's pouting. “so you'd rather (name) hate yer guts?” “that's not what i meant!” he huffs childishly, kicking at the floor. “fuck it. i’m tellin’ ‘im! ‘samu,” he whirls around to face his twin, jostling him by the shoulders.

“where would (name) be right now?” “why would i know that? it's lunch, check the classrooms.” osamu says dryly, shoving atsumu off of himself.

atsumu just nods, ignoring the action. like his life depends on it, he sprints out of the gym and towards the main building. through the side doors, past the lockers, up the stairs, to the very end of the hall, until he reaches their classroom.

“(name)!” he all but yells, sliding the door open with too much force. students whisper and murmur around the room, girls huddled up in the corners, eyes wide and hands cupped over their cheeks as they practically marvel at the sight of atsumu. (name), however, looks a bit concerned. placing his lunchbox onto his desk, his fork laid gently beside it, he stands and walks over to the door, not noticing the stares from all over the classroom. as he steps out, he shuts the door behind him.

“atsumu? are you alright?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed. “you look like you just ran a marathon—”

“we're goin’ to nationals tomorrow,” atsumu pants. (name) knew that— he's heard him and the others on the team talk about it in the halls, or when they have lunch at atsumu's desk.

“right, yeah. goodluck with that. you guys are gonna do amazing, obviously,” (name) chuckles. god, the sound makes atsumu's heart ache. he needs to get it out already, he's wasted far too much time dawdling.

“right, yeah. words don't mean much, though,” atsumu leans an arm against the wall, right next to (name). “a goodluck kiss would work wonders, though.” he says smoothly. this was his final attempt for (name).

the teen stiffens up at that. “what?” he laughs, wondering if he even heard atsumu correctly. “ya heard me. it’d be pretty motivatin’ if the pretty boy i’ve been likin’ gave me a lil goodluck kiss. just a lil peck.”

what?

“. . . you like me?” (name) asks. “since when?” atsumu huffs at that. “since forever! yer just too dense, i’ve been tryna hint at it for months now!” at that, the realization dawns on him. oh. “i thought you were just being nice!” (name) sputters, clearly trying to defend himself. atsumu lets out a choked noise.

“am i that bad at flirting?” he asks weakly. “no! i don't think so? i didn't realize you liked me at all! you should have said something!”

yes. he should have. he knows that, god knows osamu does as well. he just leans in a little closer. “so, how about that goodluck kiss, hm?” he asks after a beat of silence.

with a light scoff, (name) plants his hands on atsumu's shoulders, gripping at the fabric of his uniform shirt. it’s crumpled and smells slightly like sweat, but he decides to overlook that detail. he leans in, capturing atsumu's lips with his own. the kiss was brief, but atsumu's hands had already flown to cup the back of (name's) neck, gently tugging him forward. (name) lets out a startled noise, but doesn't move back until a few seconds later.

“so. you'll be watchin’ me at nationals, yeah?” atsumu drawls, his fingers carding through (name's) hair, idly twisting a strand.

“of course i will.”

this was so fun to write omg!!! also my reqs are open if you wanna drop any ideas for any fics !!

divider by @/plutism !!

[the-winter-spider]

Waiting Room | Part Two

Bucky x reader (as always )

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: Angst i guess sorta

A/N: So this is the next part to waiting room that was suppose to be just a One Shot but in easily convinced lol and I didn't really have a direction for the story to go in and this is where I landed, so hope you enjoy. There will be maybe another part or two so I can wrap it up. 

The night was cool as you walked away from the compound, the silence almost soothing despite the ache in your chest. You hadn’t made any plans, hadn’t packed anything more than a single bag. You just knew you couldn’t stay in that place anymore—not with the memories pressing in around you, with the sense that every hallway, every room, was echoing with what used to be between you and Bucky.

The city lights were ahead of you, casting faint glows against the dark sky, and for the first time, you felt completely unmoored. Your thoughts tangled in every step you took, as if each pace was a step away from the life you had built with the Avengers, and more painfully, from Bucky.

Hours passed as you wandered the city, barely aware of where you were going. You ended up at a small motel on the edge of town, paying cash for a room that barely had any light, just a bed with thin sheets and an old TV on a dresser. The emptiness of the room felt like it mirrored the hollow ache in your chest.

You set your bag down on the bed, letting out a sigh as you sank onto the edge, staring at the wall as thoughts of Bucky washed over you in waves. Images of him smiling, his quiet laughter, the way he’d hold your hand when no one else was around—all of it clung to you, heavy and unrelenting.

Pulling out your phone, you scrolled through your contacts to his name, thumb hovering over it. You knew he wasn’t waiting for your call; he’d made that clear. But part of you, the part that still remembered what it felt like to be wrapped in his arms, wanted him to pick up, to tell you this was all just a mistake.

Instead, you tossed the phone aside, burying your face in your hands as tears began to fall. You wanted to scream, to do anything that would make this feeling go away. The anger, the heartbreak, the deep sense of loss—the betrayal it all felt like it was crushing you.

The next morning, you took a breath and tried to piece together a plan. If Bucky wanted nothing to do with you, if the team was moving on without you, maybe it was time for you to do the same. You didn’t know how, but you’d figure it out. And maybe, someday, the memories would hurt a little less.

Days turned into weeks, and you managed to stay under the radar. You took on a few odd jobs here and there, avoiding anywhere that felt remotely familiar. You kept your phone turned off most days, keeping a low profile as you tried to settle into a new rhythm.

But at night, alone in that tiny motel room, everything came flooding back. The emptiness, the loss of the life you’d left behind, and the hollow ache that reminded you of the man you’d once thought would be by your side forever. You didn’t wanna feel anything at all anymore.

The motel was your base for now, a temporary haven between jobs. You knew eventually you would have to move but for now the dull hum of a broken fluorescent light above the bed was your only company most nights. You’d buried your old life, the Avengers, and everything you once fought for. Your existence was pared down to survival and the cold efficiency of violence.

You used old contacts from your past—people you’d hoped never to need again. Mercenaries, informants, shadowy figures from the underworld who didn’t ask questions as long as you delivered. And you did. Each contract was a blur, each mission a mechanical task you completed without hesitation or remorse. Slowly you were becoming less of who you were and more of what you were supposed to be before him.

Your skills made you valuable. Assassinations, high-stakes retrievals, contract killings—you took them all. It was work, and it kept you moving. You didn’t feel anything anymore, not the fear, not the guilt, not even the satisfaction of a clean job. You became a ghost, slipping in and out of places, leaving behind a trail of red.

Every kill was precise, methodical. You didn’t stop to consider who your targets were or what they’d done. The moral compass you once clung to was shattered, left in pieces back at the compound. You moved like a machine, your thoughts dulled by the monotony of violence. The whispers of self-destruction were your only companion now.

Weeks blurred into months, the days bleeding into each other. You didn’t follow the news, didn’t check your phone, didn’t want to know what was happening in the world you’d left behind. You didn’t see the press conference Tony had to hold, standing stoic as reporters peppered him with questions about your sudden disappearance.

“Agent Y/N has taken a leave of absence,” he’d said, his voice cool, calculated. “For personal reasons.”

That was all he gave them. No details, no promises of your return. When the questions turned toward your mental health, your stability, Tony’s jaw tightened, and he ended the briefing. Behind closed doors, the team was scrambling, doing everything they could to track you down. But you were a ghost, and ghosts didn’t want to be found.

In the quiet moments between jobs, you sat in the shadows of your rented room, staring at the ceiling. The weight of your kills didn’t register anymore; it was just a tally in your head, numbers climbing higher each week. You didn’t care who you were working for, as long as they paid and kept you busy. The emptiness was consuming, but you welcomed it. It was better than the pain.

You stopped dreaming. Stopped thinking about him, about any of them. The warmth of Bucky’s touch, the safety of his arms around you—it was a memory you refused to let surface. You buried it deep, alongside every other part of yourself that once cared, once felt.

When you weren’t working, you spent your time in dingy bars or cheap motels, drowning in silence. The weight of your solitude was your only companion. You avoided mirrors, avoided looking at the hollow shell you’d become. It didn’t matter anymore. You didn’t matter anymore.

Back at the compound, things weren’t much better. The team was holding together by a thread, every day marked by your absence. They didn’t talk about it openly, but everyone felt the weight of the void you’d left behind. Tony buried himself in his work, throwing up defensive sarcasm whenever your name was mentioned. Steve was more reserved, quiet, his concern etched into every line of his face, his thoughts a constant whirl of guilt, of what if, he was your leader, your friend, your family he should have done better. Natasha, Clint and Sam worked tirelessly to trace your steps, but you were always one step ahead, your trail going cold each time they got close.

Bucky, though—Bucky was a different story. He was unraveling. The stoic front he tried to maintain crumbled more each day. He’d catch glimpses of your room, still left untouched, and it felt like a dagger in his chest. Every lead that turned up empty, every mission he went on without you, only deepened the chasm of guilt and regret.

He didn’t show it around the others, but late at night, when the compound was quiet, he’d sit in the dark, gripping his dog tags as though they could anchor him. He replayed every moment, every word he’d said to you, the pain in your eyes when he told you it was “for the better.” He’d thought he was protecting you, sparing you from a life tethered to his darkness. But all he’d done was push you into your own.

Meanwhile, you continued to slip further into the shadows, your humanity fading with each passing day. The girl who once fought alongside Earth’s mightiest heroes was gone. Now, you were just a weapon, a tool for hire, drowning in blood and regret.

And you didn’t care if you ever came back.

The common room was silent, the atmosphere suffocating. The team sat around the dining table, their plates mostly untouched. It hadn’t been the same since you left—no, since you vanished almost a year ago. Conversations were hollow, laughter a distant memory. Every mission, every meeting, carried the weight of your absence.

Bucky sat at the far end of the table, his eyes fixed on his plate, though he hadn’t touched his food. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the clink of utensils against ceramic as Sam and Natasha picked at their meals. Steve was deep in thought, brows furrowed, while Tony sipped at a cold cup of coffee, his usual bravado long since dulled.

Suddenly, Tony’s tech pad beeped, pulling him from his thoughts. He glanced at the screen, his eyes narrowing as he read the data. Without a word, he stood abruptly and made his way to the common room, his pace quick and determined.

“Guys,” he said, voice sharp as he entered, the pad clutched tightly in his hand. The urgency in his tone snapped everyone to attention. “I think we’ve got something.”

The team immediately straightened, all eyes on him. Bucky’s heart lurched in his chest, a flicker of hope and dread surging through him.

“What is it?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tense.

Tony didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he tapped on the pad, and a hologram appeared above the table—a blurry snapshot of surveillance footage. The image was grainy, taken in some dimly lit warehouse, but there was no mistaking the figure in the frame.

It was you.

Your hair was shorter, your face leaner and paler than they remembered. Blood spattered your cheeks and clothes, your eyes sharp and cold. You looked like a ghost, hollowed out and deadly, a shadow of the person they once knew.

The room went deadly quiet, the weight of the image sinking in. Natasha leaned forward, her jaw tightening. Sam cursed under his breath, while Steve’s grip on the edge of the table tightened until his knuckles turned white.

“Is there video footage?” Steve asked, his voice low, barely concealing the mix of hope and fear in his tone.

Tony nodded grimly. “FRIDAY, play the video.”

The hologram shifted, and the grainy footage began to play. The scene unfolded in a dingy, run-down warehouse, dimly lit by flickering fluorescent lights. Armed men moved through the space, clearly preparing for some sort of deal. But then you appeared, stepping out of the shadows like a wraith.

You were fast, efficient, and terrifyingly calm. Without hesitation, you took out each man with precision—gunshots, blades, hand-to-hand combat. It didn’t matter how many came at you; they all fell. The blood spattered across your face only made your pale skin look more ghostly, more detached from humanity.

What shook them most wasn’t the violence—it was you. Your expression never wavered, your eyes cold and emotionless. It was as if you were on autopilot, a machine programmed to kill. Even when a bullet whizzed past your face, barely missing you and sending a strand of hair flying, you didn’t flinch. You simply moved on to the next target, cutting through them like they were nothing.

Bucky’s stomach churned as he watched. His hands gripped the edge of the table, his breathing shallow. He could barely process what he was seeing. This wasn’t you. This wasn’t the person he’d loved, the person he’d pushed away to protect. This was someone else entirely—a hollow shell, deadly and unrecognizable.

When the video ended, the silence in the room was deafening. Tony rubbed a hand over his face, his usual sarcasm replaced with grim resolve. “That’s the most recent hit we’ve got. It’s from a week ago.”

Steve was the first to speak, his voice strained. “She’s not just surviving out there. She’s… she’s lost herself.”

Natasha crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “She’s always been a fighter, but this? She’s not fighting for anything anymore. She’s just… existing.”

Sam shook his head, his voice low. “She didn’t even blink when that bullet came at her. It’s like she doesn’t care if she lives or dies.”

Bucky pushed himself back from the table, standing abruptly. “We need to find her, I got to find her” he said, his voice rough, barely containing the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. “Now.”

Steve nodded, his resolve hardening. “Agreed. We’ve waited long enough.”

Tony tapped on his pad, pulling up a map. “I’ve got the warehouse location. It’s a start, but if she’s smart—and we all know she is—she’s already moved on.”

Natasha stood, her eyes locked on the map. “Then we track her. We use everything we’ve got.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with thoughts of you. The footage replayed in his head, the cold, detached look in your eyes, the way you moved without hesitation or fear. He knew he’d pushed you away to protect you, but now… now it felt like he’d only sent you spiraling further into darkness.

And he wasn’t sure if he could bring you back. But he’d die trying.

The hologram of the warehouse lingered in the air, casting a dull blue glow that accentuated the tension in the room. Tony continued scrolling through surveillance feeds, his movements precise but edged with frustration. No one spoke at first, the weight of your absence hanging over them like a storm cloud.

Sam finally broke the silence, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Where is she even finding out about these deals? She’s not exactly walking into a coffee shop and picking up intel from strangers.”

Clint, seated at the far end of the table, narrowed his eyes, his mind already turning over possibilities. “Maybe old contacts?” His gaze shifted to Natasha, who had been uncharacteristically quiet. Her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and her face was set in a mask of unreadable tension.

She didn’t look at him immediately. When she did, her eyes were distant, filled with memories she rarely allowed to surface. “Yeah,” she said quietly, almost reluctantly. “That’s likely.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Someone from your Red Room days?”

Natasha hesitated, her jaw tightening as she nodded. “Before SHIELD. Before the Avengers.” Her voice was cold, clinical, the tone of someone recounting a story they wished wasn’t their own. “There’s a guy… a fixer. He operated out of Eastern Europe, connected to black market arms deals, high-profile hits, anything illegal you can think of. If she’s working for him now…” She trailed off, swallowing hard.

Sam leaned forward, frowning. “Anything you’d like to share with the class, Nat? Because this feels like something we should’ve known before.”

Natasha exhaled slowly, her gaze flickering toward Clint before settling on the table. “Before SHIELD, before Clint and I found her… she was lost. When she escaped the Red Room, she had nothing—no resources, no one to turn to. This guy took her in, gave her jobs, gave her a reason to keep moving. But it wasn’t a life. It was survival, barely.”

Clint leaned in, his voice lower now, as though he didn’t want to disturb the fragile truths being unearthed. “She was in deep. Mercenary work, hits, anything he wanted. She carried everything she owned in a backpack. She was running on scraps and rage. And the person she was back then compared to the one we know now…” He shook his head. “Night and day.”

Natasha’s expression darkened. “She was like a machine. On autopilot. He kept her that way with modified Red Room mind control.” Her voice softened, though her words cut like a blade. “Not enough to erase her, but just enough to suppress doubt, hesitation. Enough to make her compliant.”

The room fell into stunned silence. Bucky, standing slightly apart from the others, stared at the hologram of your face, his jaw clenched. His chest ached, a sick mixture of guilt and disbelief twisting in his gut.

Tony’s voice broke the quiet. “That wasn’t in her file.”

Natasha smirked bitterly. “Of course it wasn’t. Fury redacted it. He thought it would protect her if it ever came up.”

Clint’s voice dropped further, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. “When Nat and I got her out, it was like detoxing someone from a drug. She fought us every step of the way. We had to tie her down to keep her from running back to him.”

Natasha nodded grimly. “She didn’t sleep, didn’t eat unless we forced her to. She was reciting mission protocols in her sleep like she was still under their control. It took months to bring her back to herself. And even then…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “Even then, it was fragile.”

Steve’s eyes shifted to Bucky, whose hands were gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles were white. “Buck, did she ever tell you any of this?”

Bucky’s shoulders sagged slightly, his face shadowed with pain. He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “No. Not like that.” He paused, swiping a hand over his face as he blinked away tears he couldn’t stop. “She… she never pushed me to talk about my past. She let me open up in my own time, my own way.” He let out a shaky breath. “I thought… I thought she’d do the same eventually. And she did, bits and pieces. But it was always vague, like she didn’t want me to see just how bad it was.”

He looked back at the hologram, the image of your face burning into his mind. “She risked her life for me, over and over again. And I didn’t even know the extent of what she’d been through.” His voice cracked. “She deserved better than that.”

“And now,” Natasha said softly, her eyes fixed on him, “she’s back in it.”

Bucky’s head dropped, his fists clenching as he whispered, “Maybe worse this time. She’s not just surviving—she’s destroying herself. And it’s my fault.”

“Buck,” Steve said gently, but Bucky shook his head.

“I thought I was protecting her,” Bucky said, his voice louder now, trembling with emotion. “I thought pushing her away would keep her safe. But all I did was push her right back into the darkness she fought so hard to escape.”

Natasha’s voice softened further, though it carried an edge of warning. “If she’s with him again, he won’t hesitate to use that mind control on her. And if he has… there’s no telling how far she’ll go before she burns out.”

Tony paced, rubbing his temple. “We need to find this guy. Shut him down. If she’s working for him, she won’t stop until someone makes her.”

Steve straightened, his face hardening with resolve. “Then we find him. Find out where he’s operating now.”

Clint nodded, pulling out his tablet. “I can dig up some old intel. He moved a lot, but if he’s still running the same kind of jobs, I can find a pattern.”

Natasha glanced at Bucky, her tone quieter now. “We find him, and we find her. But she’s not coming back willingly, Bucky.”

Bucky lifted his head, his eyes dark and resolute. “I don’t care how far gone she is. She’s still in there, and I’m not giving up on her.” His voice dropped, almost to a whisper. “She has to be.”

Tony tapped the screen again, zooming in on the hologram of your face. “Then we better move fast. Because from the looks of it, she’s already gone too far.”

The team exchanged grim looks, the unspoken weight of what lay ahead settling over them. For Bucky, though, there was no hesitation. No doubt. He would bring you back, no matter what it took.

The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through the night sky, a stark contrast to the tension filling the cabin. The team was locked in silent focus, each member mentally preparing for what they might find at their destination. Natasha sat at the controls, her face unreadable, though her grip on the steering controls was tighter than usual. Clint was beside her, reviewing maps and old intel on the fixer, his expression grim.

Bucky sat alone, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. His metal hand flexed and clenched rhythmically, the only outward sign of the storm raging inside him. His thoughts churned relentlessly, replaying every moment since the breakup, every mission where he’d chosen to keep his distance, every chance he had to reach out and didn’t.

Steve, seated across from him, finally broke the silence. “We’ll get her back, Buck,” he said quietly, his voice steady but reassuring. “She’s still in there. We’ll bring her home.”

Bucky didn’t look up, his jaw tightening. His voice was low, almost a whisper. “And what if we don’t?” His eyes flicked up to meet Steve’s, and they were filled with a raw vulnerability that Steve hadn’t seen in years. “What if she’s too far gone, Steve? I thought I was protecting her, keeping her safe by pushing her away. But all I did was shove her right back into the darkness.”

Steve sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. “You did what you thought was right. You were trying to protect her from getting hurt.”

Bucky let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “And now she’s out there, risking her life every day because I made her believe she wasn’t worth saving.” He paused, his voice cracking slightly. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we can’t bring her back. If she’s too far gone…Steve if we cant get her back….”

Steve reached out, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “She’s not gone, Buck. She’s still in there. We’ve seen her come back from worse, and she’s stronger than you think.”

Bucky’s eyes fell back to the floor, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his guilt. “I’m not sure she’ll ever forgive me. Hell, I’m not sure I can forgive myself.”

Natasha’s voice cut through the cabin, calm but commanding. “We’re coming up on the last known location of the fixer. This isn’t a guarantee, but it’s our best shot.” She glanced back at Bucky, her expression softer than usual. “You’ll get your chance to fix this, Barnes. But you have to be ready. She’s not the same person you knew.”

Bucky nodded, his resolve hardening. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll do whatever I have to.”

The quinjet began its descent, the lights of a small, industrial city coming into view below. Natasha expertly landed on the outskirts of the city, near an abandoned factory that matched the coordinates from her old intel. The team geared up quickly, their movements efficient and quiet.

As they approached the factory, Clint pulled up the blueprints on his tablet. “Looks like a standard setup—main entrance, back exit, and a few access points on the roof. If he’s still using this place, he’ll have guards posted. We’ll have to go in quiet.”

Natasha nodded. “I’ll take point with Clint. Steve, Bucky, cover the rear. Sam, Tony you’re our eyes in the sky.”

Bucky didn’t say a word as they moved into position, his focus entirely on the task ahead. His grip on his rifle was tight, his breathing controlled. But inside, his mind raced with what they might find.

As they entered the factory, the air was thick with dust and the faint smell of oil and metal. The sound of distant machinery hummed through the walls, but the place seemed otherwise deserted.

Clint scanned the area with his thermal scope, whispering, “Two guards up ahead, near the control room.”

Natasha nodded, and within moments, the guards were taken out silently, their bodies crumpling to the floor without a sound. The team moved deeper into the facility, tension building with every step.

Finally, they reached the main floor—a vast, open space filled with crates and scattered equipment. And there, in the center of the room, was a man seated at a desk, his back to them.

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “That’s him.”

The fixer turned slowly, as if he’d been expecting them. His face was lined with age, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. He smiled, a cold, predatory grin. “Well, well. The Avengers. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice low and dangerous. “Where is she?”

The fixer chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Ah, you must mean out little shadow, our ghost. Quite the asset, isn’t she? A real work of art, that one.”

Bucky’s fists clenched, and Steve put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. “Where is she?” Steve demanded.

The fixer sighed, feigning boredom. “She comes and goes as she pleases. I simply provide the opportunities. She’s quite effective, you know. Doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t question. Just like old times.”

Natasha stepped forward, her gun trained on him. “What have you done to her?”

The fixer’s smile widened. “Only what she wanted. She came to me, broken and desperate. I gave her purpose, focus. She’s free now, free from all those messy emotions that held her back.”

Bucky’s voice shook with rage. “You didn’t free her. You turned her into a weapon.”

The fixer shrugged, unbothered. “She’s exactly where she wants to be.”

Bucky stepped forward, his voice deadly calm. “And where’s that?”

The fixer’s grin faltered for the first time. “You’ll never find her. She doesn’t want to be found.”

Bucky’s eyes burned with fury, but before he could move, Natasha pulled the trigger, shooting the fixer in the leg. He cried out, clutching his wound as he glared up at her.

“Where. Is. She?” Natasha repeated, her voice ice-cold.

The fixer coughed, blood dripping from his mouth as he chuckled weakly. “She’s already gone. But you’ll find her soon enough. If she wants you to.”

The quinjet touched down silently on the outskirts of the city. The team disembarked quickly, weapons drawn and senses on high alert. The abandoned office building loomed ahead, its shattered windows and graffiti-covered walls a testament to its long-abandoned state. Inside, though, it was anything but empty.

Tony’s voice was a low murmur as he held up his tech pad, showing the heat signatures inside. “Multiple targets on the top floor. Armed, moving in formation. Y/N’s in there, too.”

“Looks like another hit,” Natasha said grimly, her eyes scanning the building. “She’s taking out another crew.”

Bucky clenched his fists, his jaw tight. “We’re not letting her walk out of here alone.”

Natasha nodded, her voice steady. “Stay focused. We get in, neutralize the situation, and bring her back.”

The team moved as one, slipping into the building and making their way up the crumbling stairwell. The sound of muffled voices and footsteps echoed from above, the tension rising with every step. When they reached the top floor, they could hear it clearly now—the sharp commands, the clink of weapons, and then, suddenly, a scream cut short.

Tony raised his hand, signaling them to stop. He brought up the thermal view on his pad. “She’s already started.”

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as they crept toward the open doorway. From their vantage point, they could see you in the center of the room, moving with deadly precision. You were a blur of efficiency, taking out the armed men one by one, each movement calculated and lethal. Blood spattered across the floor and walls, and your face, but you didn’t falter.

The last two men in the room scrambled to take aim at you, but you were faster. You disarmed one with a quick twist of his wrist, driving a knife into his chest without so much as a flicker of emotion. The final man backed away, terror in his eyes as he aimed his gun at you, his hands trembling.

Before he could pull the trigger, you grabbed him by the throat, lifting him off the ground with ease. His struggles were futile, and the sound of his choked gasps filled the air.

“Y/N!” Bucky’s voice rang out, desperate and raw, cutting through the chaos.

You froze, your grip tightening on the man’s throat as your eyes snapped to Bucky. For a moment, the room seemed to stand still. The team watched, their weapons drawn but hesitating, waiting to see what you would do.

You stared at Bucky, your face blank, eyes devoid of the warmth they once held. Slowly, deliberately, you tightened your grip, and without breaking eye contact with him, you snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack. His lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bucky took a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest. “Doll,” he said again, his voice trembling. “What are you doing?”

You stood there, blood splattered across your face, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths. Your eyes flicked over the rest of the team—Steve, Natasha, Sam, Clint, and Tony—all standing ready, but hesitant to make a move.

The room was suffocatingly silent, the air thick with tension as you stood amidst the bodies of the men you’d just killed. You looked at them—at all of them—as if they were nothing more than an inconvenience. Your once-bright eyes were now cold, lifeless, your pupils blown wide, a sharp contrast to the dim light of the room.

Sam was the first to break the silence. “Her pupils are huge,” he said, his voice low, uneasy. “That’s not normal.”

Natasha’s face tightened. She took a step forward, speaking in Russian, her tone steady but filled with quiet authority. “Ты идешь со мной, младшая сестра. (You’re coming back with me, little sister.)” She tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing. “Ты сделаешь это легко или трудно? (Are you going to make this easy or hard?)”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you nudged the last man’s lifeless body with your foot, shoving him out of your way with a detached, almost bored expression. Then, finally, you spoke, your voice flat, emotionless.

“ Трудно(Hard).”

Steve sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Are we really doing this? All of us, against her?”

Natasha didn’t break her gaze from you. “No. Just me.” She reached for her baton, switching it on with a low hum of electricity. “Let me try.”

Clint, standing off to the side, silently switched the arrow in his quiver to one tipped with a sedative, his fingers steady but ready. He didn’t say anything, but his eyes were locked on you, his movements precise and deliberate like he’d done this before, which of course he has.

Natasha stepped forward slowly, her baton raised but not yet striking. She muttered under her breath, almost to herself, “Дежавю. (Déjà vu.)” Then, in a softer tone, she added in Russian, “Я тебя люблю. (I love you.)”

The words didn’t even register. You moved without hesitation, launching yourself at her with lethal precision. Your first strike was a blur, and Natasha barely had time to block it with her baton. But you were faster, stronger, and more relentless than she remembered. Within seconds, you had her on the defensive, your blows landing harder and faster than she could counter.

Natasha grunted as you landed a kick to her side, sending her stumbling. “Something’s off,” she groaned, clutching her ribs as she stood. “You’re stronger than before.”

Bucky had been standing on the sidelines, his fists clenched, watching you tear through Natasha with ease. His heart broke with every blow you delivered. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He stepped forward, his voice cracking slightly.

“Sweetheart, please,” he said, his voice filled with desperation. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

You turned toward him, your face still expressionless, and in one swift motion, you pulled a knife from your belt and hurled it at him. Bucky’s reflexes kicked in, and he caught the blade mid-air, but the force of the throw pushed him back a step.

He dropped the knife, his hands raised in a defensive posture. “I’m not going to fight you,” he said firmly, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “But I’m not letting you hurt anyone else.”

You didn’t hesitate, launching yourself at him. Bucky blocked every strike, his movements precise, never once retaliating. He didn’t want to hurt you, but you gave him no choice but to defend himself.

“Steve!” Bucky shouted over his shoulder as he deflected another of your attacks. “It’s the serum! She’s got some kind of super-soldier serum!”

Steve’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on his shield. Sam glanced at Clint, who still had his bow drawn. “Will that sedative arrow even work on her if she’s got the serum?”

Clint shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

He loosed the arrow, and it flew toward you, but you moved faster than expected, catching it mid-air. The tip still grazed your arm, injecting just enough of the sedative to make you falter slightly. You wobbled for a second, your movements sluggish, but it wasn’t enough to stop you. You turned the arrow back around, flinging it directly at Clint with lethal precision.

Steve’s shield flew through the air just in time, blocking the arrow before it could hit Clint. The sound of metal striking the arrowhead echoed through the room, but before anyone could make another move, Tony stepped forward, his repulsor glowing.

“This is enough,” Tony said, his voice cold and decisive. He raised his hand, preparing to knock you out.

But before he could fire, Natasha, now back on her feet, grabbed a heavy metal pole from the wreckage around them. She moved quickly, her face set with grim determination.

You turned back toward Bucky, ready to swing at him again, your eyes still filled with that cold, mechanical focus. But Natasha was faster. She swung the pole with all her strength, aiming for the side of your head.

The impact was immediate. Your eyes widened briefly before your body went limp, collapsing to the floor in an unconscious heap.

The room was silent except for the sound of everyone’s heavy breathing. Bucky dropped to his knees beside you, his hands trembling as he gently cradled your head.

Natasha dropped the pole, her chest heaving as she looked down at you, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. “Я сожалею, сестра. (I’m sorry, sister.),” she whispered softly.

Steve stepped forward, his shield still in hand. “Let’s get her back to the jet. We’ve got work to do.”