#I hope this helps! and again just my thoughts so you might even think differently than me!!!

[svartalfhild]

Omg 7 pls

7. visiting them at their place of work

Not sure what qualifies as "place of work" that's different from their normal meeting places, since they're both Mourn Watchers and Veilguardians, but I shall do my best to keep to the spirit of workplace.

The eluvians were just so damn useful. Rook and her friends could be in different parts of Thedas in a matter of hours or even minutes, and that made the task before them far easier than it otherwise would be. It also meant home wasn't far for any members of the team.

Today's featured convenience, however, was that Rook was able to bring Lucanis' fresh cooking to the Grand Necropolis. Emmrich had gone there early in the morning to address some trouble with a spirit he was evidently well acquainted with, and she thought she'd bring him some lunch. Maybe there was something she could help with, too. Or maybe she was just nervous about leaving him alone outside the Lighthouse for too long after overhearing Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain's plans to torture and experiment on him. Sure Manfred was with him, but as much as she loved Manfred and believed in him, she didn't think he'd be a match for anyone that might come for Emmrich.

So here she was, stepping through the mirror to the Grand Necropolis with a basket in hand, hoping to find him busy at work with what had sounded like some sort of bequeathal dispute and ready for a little break. The Necropolis was home, and she was always happy to return, but it still didn't feel the same as when she'd left over a year ago. Maybe it never would. Maybe the scars that she and the place had left on each other would never fade, and she'd never be entirely welcome here again. Maybe that's why the Lighthouse felt more like home now.

Still, she knew these halls and its people, and she refused to behave like a stranger here. She walked confidently through the passageways and grand chambers, outwardly ignoring the staring and whispering of apprentices and masters alike, even as she started to wonder if perhaps her hair was mussed or her waistcoat was missing a button. Yes, in case you missed it, Ingellvar was back and she didn't have time to stop and chat about what she was doing with Professor Volkarin or to indulge impudent questions about her past. She had important business that was none of yours.

After passing a throng of gossiping apprentices just outside the library who clearly hadn't learned how easily their voices carried here yet, Rook found Emmrich nestled amidst law books and legal scrolls at a table in the reading room.

"Emmrich?" He looked up at the sound of her voice, and the expression of irritation and concentration etched into his features instantly melted away to be replaced with joy.

"Hello, dearest! What brings you to the library?"

"You," Rook answered with a bright smile. "Your business sounded tedious, so I thought you might like a bite to eat." She indicated the basket, and Emmrich's eyes shone with adoration.

"Oh, how thoughtful. Truth be told, I was beginning to feel a bit listless and irritable. An interlude for refreshment would be most welcome."

"Walk with me," Rook requested cheerfully, holding out her hand. Emmrich closed his notebook, tucked it in his coat, and took her hand as he rose from his chair.

"Manfred? Keep an eye on these documents, would you?" he called out, and Manfred appeared from behind a bookcase with an obliging hiss, hobbling over to the table. Rook gave him a loving little pat on the side of his skull, which earned her a happy hiss.

"We'll be back soon," she promised before guiding Emmrich out of the library and towards the gardens, where they could have themselves a little picnic.

"There's Ingellvar again. And Professor Volkarin is with her. Maker, are they holding hands? The nobles'll be all aflutter if they hear about this," one of the apprentices whispered as they passed.

"That minx!" another gasped.

"Shut up, Drika! You're an apprentice! It's not going to happen for you!" a third hissed.

"I think we should all shut up. She's an elf; she can probably hear us," a fourth added flatly. Smart kid. Rook didn't even deign to look their way as she and Emmrich walked by. If he had heard them, he gave no indication either.

In the gardens, they found a lovely little empty plot nestled between some bushes, affording them a little privacy, and they sat down.

"I brought cheese sandwiches that I made with the bread Lucanis baked this morning and that Ferelden cheddar Harding was recommending. You can add butter or apple jam if you'd like; I've got some of each in here. There's also some stuffed peppers Lucanis wants us to try if you're feeling adventurous. To drink, I have-" Rook paused to squint at the elaborate Antivan calligraphy on the label of the bottle she'd pulled from the basket. "Well, it's an Antivan red Lucanis said pairs well with the stuffed peppers. It's probably worth more than my life. Oh! And Taash said the bananas we got from Rivain are finally ripe, so I brought a few of them too!"

"It all sounds delightful, my dear. Most especially because I get to enjoy it with you," Emmrich responded with a fond smile. Rook blushed and busied herself with setting out the food, unsure what to say. They enjoyed their sandwiches and wine for a few minutes before Emmrich spoke again, his tone much more serious. "Rook, may I ask you a question of a personal nature?"

"Certainly."

"Does it bother you? All the gossip. About you. About what you did. About us." Oh, that was very serious and personal indeed.

"I'm...used to commentary about my origins and my...monochrome appearance. I've been strange all my life. Very few people have their facts straight on what I did during the war and why, so I pay no heed to the uninformed takes bouncing around these walls. As for us, well, I don't particularly mind. The other Watchers can say whatever they like. It won't change how I feel about you, and we're both mages, so we're not illegal in the eyes of the Chantry or anything. There's no danger in people finding out, just...a lot of people being a bit rude. They'll probably get bored with it eventually and move on." Rook felt like she was rambling as she spoke, like she'd been sitting on these thoughts for a while and they'd all come spilling out at the first chance. She hadn't realized she'd been gesturing until she finished and noticed the uneaten half of her sandwich flopping in her hand.

"I see," Emmrich said softly, his eyes filled with sympathy.

"Why do you ask?" Rook inquired with an attempt at a more casual air before taking another bite of her sandwich.

"You squeezed my hand rather tightly when we walked by those whispering apprentices," he informed her, and she blushed again, this time in embarrassment.

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's perfectly natural to care what others think and to be hurt by ill considered words, you know." Emmrich gently placed his hand over hers, and she suddenly felt very weak. "You don't have to be an unshakable rock at every moment. I worry that you will shatter if you try." The threat of tears began to subtly burn behind her eyes at this. He had seen right through her.

"I might shatter if I don't," she replied, her voice wavering ever so slightly. "I can't afford to-" No, she couldn't say that. It would make her feel too exposed. "Varric always tells me that I'll have an easier time if I don't dwell on what others think and what I could have done better." At this, the sympathy in Emmrich's expression deepened and his fingers curled around hers.

"I see. We needn't discuss it further. I didn't intend to upset you."

"It's alright." She hadn't expected him to let it go so easily, but she wasn't going to question it.

"You show so much care for others. I only wish to show you the same in return."

"I know." Emmrich lifted her hand and tenderly kissed her knuckles, making her heart flutter.

"Shall we try some of those stuffed peppers?" he suggested gently, and she nodded, quickly finishing her sandwich before picking up a pepper. It was delicious, but of course she expected nothing less from Lucanis. They were crunchy, creamy, herbal, and spicier than she was accustomed to, but she didn't hate it. Emmrich muttered "oh dear" after his first bite but happily continued eating and slowly turned a bit red. They agreed that the peppers were fantastic albeit slightly painful. The bananas luckily turned out to be helpful in their recovery.

"I'll pass our review on to the chef," Rook chuckled as she began to pack everything back in the basket.

"Please do. And thank you ever so much for this lovely little picnic. It was a wonderful diversion," Emmrich responded warmly.

"You're welcome."

"Will you permit me to do something similarly diverting for you in the future?"

"If you'd like. I'm always happy to spend time with you, Emmrich."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Only after he'd returned to the library and she was on her way back to the mirror did she realize that he'd just finessed his way into getting her to let him take care of her. Dammit.

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[gilear-core]

what podcasts have you dnf’d? or wish you dnf’d by the time you finished!!

(trying to figure out which shows are actually going to be worth my time)

ohh okay!!! obviously this is all a matter of my personal opinion, and if you love these shows I’m so happy they found their people!!!!

-Where the Stars Fell: I found both the main characters extremely annoying and dreadfully unlikable !! the worst part was the Trauma Competition scene of “my life was hard, no MY life was harder, well I’m disabled, oh yeah i’m disabled in this WORSE way, okay but my childhood was hard, no MY childhood was hard” it was just too much, i wish we learned these things more naturally and less transactionally (also that end of season one ‘twist’ was tough 😔…..)

-Weeping Cedars: This one was one of those spooky docu-dramas, that ended up going way too ‘documentary’ and not enough ‘drama’ (or spooks!! which is why I’m here!!)

-The Storage Papers: so I listened up to I think half way through season 3? my main issue was that the story seemed really confused, and I found the main VA’s voice annoying (not his fault! it’s just a little distracting) (also there was an episode where he basically said hitler & the nazis were all possessed by demons which was, yucky)

Ghosts in the Burbs: this is mainly because I do not like the anthology format, I typically binge my shows and and anthologies get really boring and exhausting for me! I especially didn’t care for the theme, which was 200 episodes of Rich, White, Suburban Moms in boston see ghosts (I am not very sympathetic to rich, white, suburban moms) (it was also basically the same five ghost stories over and over again)

The Penumbra Podcast: okay NO hate to penumbra, my main issue with it was that the main character makes out with like, everyone they meet, and the sound of kissing makes me want to literally peel my skin off! I also thought it was a little cheesy?? HOWEVER, I know that it’s cheesy, campy notes are very much beloved by its fandom!!

Ostium: this one hurt, because the first season was SO interesting and mysterious, and then the story just slowly drifted off into nonsense! I also really disliked the main female character (monica?) because it’s like they tried to write this STRONG and SENSUAL and POWERFUL and INDEPENDENT woman, and then produced an awful character who repeatedly sexually manipulates the main character (it’s okay though, they fall in love eventually so she didn’t do anything wrong! /s)

Archive 81: this one is widely beloved, but the first season was goddamn unbearable!! the voice acting was rough, the story is the SINGLE most confusing and lost thing i’ve ever heard, the main character wasn’t likable, and the ending was so predictable and boring!!!! (I legitimately had no idea it what was happening for the entire show and I still knew how it was going to end) (however!! the community says the second and third seasons are good and interesting, but I never had any desires to keep listening)

Honorable Mentions:

-Literally any PNW/PRA show (tanis, the black tapes, rabbits) somehow they will always end up being recommended but they are truly all an exhausting waste of time with poorly thought out twists and endings (if they even end at all 😔)

-Station 151: this is the only podcast i’ve given a one star review, it was so abysmal it made me physically and genuinely angry and had to stop working to rant about it to my beloved 😮‍💨

[punkkture]

any thoughts about how Simon would feel about certain kinks/ habits in the bedroom??

oh em gee, my version of simon is such a gross perv tbh . . .

— simon is infatuated with you looking dumbed down and fucked out of it. he wants his warm cum all over every centimeter of your soft skin. he wants to see you painted in his white hot ropes. and to be honest, that’s really why he never cleans you up. it’s not because he doesn’t care . . . it’s because he cares too much.

why in the world would he wipe his cum off of your face or your pretty tummy? it’s right where it’s supposed to be. he always takes out his phone and gets a couple pictures of the sight.

“my gorgeous girl, so pretty”

— i just know this man has a breeding kink. i know it deep down. it might be because he doesn’t like the fact you’re without him when he’s gone on deployment — or maybe just because he’s never had something so important and special to him in his entire life, he is just infatuated with the idea of having a family with you.

but you can assure that the second he comes home from work, even if it’s only a short week long deployment, he has gotta have you underneath him in a mating press. not missionary, no, he’s gotta have your legs pressed right up against his shoulders while his left hand holds your ankle. his right hand is busy keeping himself propped up because he’s practically folding you so hard.

he can never get enough of your face when he cums so deep into you that you swear you ‘felt it go into your cervix’. it was probably just the overstimulation of his tip bruising that spot inside you, but it made him feel good to hear you say that nonetheless.

“so good baby, take it, i know you can take one more . . jus’ one more baby please”

— simon is definitely an ass guy. he lovesss grabbing and groping you in public. no matter how many times you swat his hand away from your backside, he always just gives a short chuckle and plays it off. only for seconds later to do it again.

he’s got a real thing for doggy because of it. the sight of his cock burying into you from behind and his rough hands leaving red marks and prints on your ass just makes him melt.

“baby c’mon . . . i was just playing i didn’t mean to hit it that hard . . ‘m sorry”

— i’m never going to retire the overall picture of perv bf simon. i think about it all the time and you guys should too. like he is nasty. he has such a thing for filming you when you don’t know. keeping your head shoved in the pillow as he fucks into you from behind with one hand, and his phone filming the sight of you pushing back against him to meet his thrusts in the other.

whenever he’s away on deployment he uses these videos to help himself. he misses you so much. he could easily spend the day going to the bathroom six different times just to jerk off. sometimes when it’s bad, all he needs to do is look at your pretty face.

he has no shame in sending you videos of him coating his abdomen and hands in his cum. hoping you use them to get off just like he does to your videos.

“see how bad i miss you? see what you do to me? god i can’t wait to get home to that pretty little cunt”

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ��cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[natashascumslut]

LOUD. Wanda maximoff x fem reader

SUMMARY: Your need for Wanda suddenly gets stronger, and she finally decides to do something about it.

WARNINGS: Smut 18+! MDNI, Top!Wanda, Bottom!Reader, Thigh riding (R), Strap-on (R), Praise kink, Strap-on referred to as ‘cock’.

a/n- This was originally gonna be longer but i lost interest lmao. Not proofread!

You needed Wanda. it was sudden and intense. It wasn't the first time you'd thought of the witch in... not-so-PG ways. But this was different, it wasn't like when you couldn't sleep, and thoughts of Wanda creeped into your mind. This was need, and it was strong. And you also just so happen to be walking down the street after doing a bit of grocery shopping.

The feeling had hit you like a bus, creeping all over you, leaving goosebumps in its tracks, before settling between your legs. You rushed back, desperate to get rid of it. But, to your luck, the exact woman you were just thinking about was standing in the kitchen of the compound, you cursed under your breath. She turned to greet you, but stopped when she noticed your flushed cheeks and hurried movements.

"Are you okay?" She asked, and you nodded quickly, your eyes not meeting hers. You put things away, trying your hardest to be casual, but your mind was wandering. You felt her eyes on you, burning into your skull, and it wasn't making any of this easier. You put the bag you were carrying the groceries in away and sent a tight-lipped smile in Wanda's direction, before leaving the cramped space; it was an open kitchen, looking over the living space with floor to ceiling windows, but it felt cramped when it was only you and Wanda in there. You rushed up to your room, closing the door behind you and taking a second to breathe.

You stared at your bed, contemplating. It was the middle of day, you couldn't just... get off, someone might call you in for a mission or a meeting, you might be needed, someone might walk in; you reached behind you and locked your door.

A soft thump sounded the otherwise quiet room as your head fell back against the door, the aching between your legs hadn't stopped, in fact it'd somehow gotten stronger. You didn't know what to do, but luckily a knock on the door decided your fate, you were going to be asked to join a meeting, and by the time it was over you would feel okay again—

Wanda was standing on the other side of the door, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

"Hey." She said casually, peeking behind you into your room. "Mind if i come in?" You nodded instinctively, but internally cursed yourself, her being in here would only worsen things. You stepped aside as you tried your hardest to get words out of you. She stepped in and the door was closed, the room suddenly felt cramped. You stared at her back, you should move, do something.

"Your thoughts are loud." Shit. "What?" Finally, words! You couldn't see her face, her back still turned to you, but you could hear the smirk in her voice as she spoke. "I said; your thoughts are loud." She turned around, your heart skipped a beat. Maybe, if it skipped a few more beats, you would die and you wouldn't have to be in this situation anymore. That's what you hoped would happen atleast. She stepped closer, your heartbeat got louder.

Fuck, shit, fuck, fuck, fuck- "Calm down." Her voice was quiet as her hand came in contact with your jaw, holding it in place. "Please stop reading my mind." You pleaded, you didn't like it, not one bit. Your thoughts were yours and yours only, you didn't want her poking about in there. "Please." Her grip on your jaw loosened, and her eyes had softened; she had stopped, thank god.

She stared at you for a second, seemingly deciding her next words. "How about i help you out?" She said quietly, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of.. well, anything. It was hard for her to know what you were feeling when she wasn't in your mind with you. You let yourself nod weakly because frankly, you needed her too much to protest. And even if you didn't, you still wouldn't. You'd been pinning after the witch for months now, caught up in everything her. "I'm gonna need words of confirmation, pretty girl." She whispered, but her tone had changed, it almost matched the amount of need you were feeling in your body, almost.

"Yes, please Wanda." Your voice was weak, pathetic and Wanda relished in it, she had known how you felt for awhile now, since you never made much effort to quiet your mind around her, but hearing it from you made it so much... better.

Her hands found your waist, you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, pounding. "Yeah? You need me to help you out?" She purred in a whisper, this definitely wasn't helping your building arousal. You nodded, your eyes darkening. She spun you around so quickly you were pretty sure you got whiplash, but that was the least of your worries right now, because the witch you so desperately needed was leading you towards your bed. She sat herself down, and pulled your tense figure into her lap, straddling her.

"Mh, you're so tense." She hummed, her hands running up and down your thighs. "I'll make you feel better, darling." lord. Her eyes moved from your lips back up to your eyes. "Would you like that?" You'd never seen her so confident before, most likely because she knew she was in control, she knew you wanted this. But that didn't stop it from being insanely attractive. "Yeah." You breathed out, surprised you even managed to talk. She smirked, her face inching closer to yours. You mentally cursed yourself for being so out of it, god she had such a hold on you.

You finally gained an ounce of consciousness and surged the rest of the way till her soft lips were on yours. Your body relaxed into hers and you're pretty sure you let out a moan, because in a matter of seconds she was gripping your hips and pulling you in impossibly closer, her warm body flush against yours. You weren't sure if it was your heartbeat you were feeling, or hers. "Wanda." You whined as your hips unintentionally rutted forward on her thigh, she pulled back, smirking at you. "So needy." She said, her bottom lip lodged between her teeth. Her hands stayed firmly on your hips as she slowly started guiding you to grind down on her thigh, making you gasp. Even with the layers of fabric between you and her thigh, you still felt it.

Her lips trailed across your jaw till they landed on your neck, pressing firm kisses to the length of it as soft whimpers tumbled out your lips. You felt her suck at the soft skin of your neck, forcing a moan out of you. "No marks." You warned breathlessly, but she made no effort to stop. "Wanda." She groaned, stopping. She'd already made a mark, but you didn't really care if you were honest. Your hips moved faster, with her help. But were immediately halted the second you felt something poking at your clothed cunt. She held back a chuckle as she watched your face turn in confusion, a wide smirk playing at her lips.

"I came prepared." She hummed, clearly happy with herself. You raised an eyebrow, panting slightly. Your breath hitched when her hands wrapped around your upper arms, pulling you flush against her yet again. "If you like riding my thigh so much.." She started in a whisper, her warm breath fanning over your ear. "How about you ride me?" You whimpered at her words alone, a shiver coursing the entire length of your body. "Mhm." Was all you could physically get out, a pathetic hum.

It was funny, really. Every time you thought of the witch, you were in control of the situation. But here you were, rendered useless under her gaze. "Yeah, would you like that?" She said under her breath, the heat of the situation clearly getting to her aswell. You nodded pathetically. "Please, Wanda. Let me ride you." You whined, your hands on her shoulders. Her cheeks dusted a light shade of pink as her eyes darkened, immediately pulling you in for a firm yet passionate kiss, pawing at your shirt as you gasped quietly into her mouth. You helped her pull the thin fabric over your head, blushing as you felt exposed.

It didn't take long for your bra to disappear too, disregarded onto the floor with your shirt. A stuttered moan mixed with your heavy breaths as Wanda latched her lips to your nipple, her teeth tugging at it. Your fingers tangled in her soft hair, holding her in place as your back arched, pushing your chest into her. A satisfied groan vibrated against your body, and a unsatisfied whimper left it when Wanda pulled back, a dazed expression on her face as she grinned smugly up at you. "Please." You said huskily, you needed her inside you now. She gently pushed you off her lap, leaving you to stand up on your wobbly legs. She snickered as she watched you trip over your own feet as you tried to keep your balance, before standing up completely straight, blushing.

"I've barely touched you, baby." She teased, her hands finding your bare waist. You avoided eye contact, panting gently. Her fingered trailed down your waist, till they were at the button of your jeans. You watched with heavy eyes as she undid it, sliding the denim down your legs. You felt it was unfair you were almost completely naked, while she was fully dressed. You pouted, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her into you, before stripping the fabric off her body with her help. You ogled at her covered chest until she forced you to look back up at her. Her lips found yours again, and she was stepping out of her jeans. You whimpered as your eyes came in contact with the strap on firmly harnessed to her hips, she smirked smugly.

You pushed her back on to the bed, and she moved up it till her head was on the pillows. She watched as you stripped of the last piece of clothing covering you, a low groan emitted for her lips. You crawled ontop of her, settling on her thighs, right in front of the strap. You stared at it for a second, before moving your eyes back up to hers. "Come on, baby. Aren't you going to be a good girl and ride me, like i know you want to." She husked as her hands found your hips, using it to her advantage to guide you up till you were hovering above the silicone. You whined, the tips of your fingers pressing into her stomach as you tried to steady yourself. It didn't take long before you were sinking down onto it, a loud whimper of her name following the action.

You had never felt so exposed, completely on display, but you were too focused on the witches strap buried deep inside you to care. "Fuck." The breathless curse made you look up at her, her attention was focused solely on your cunt. "You look so pretty on my cock, baby. Such a pretty slut for me." You whined at her words, your hips grinding down on the toy. Your hands landed on her shoulders as your hips moved back and forth, your head hanging between your arms as you breathed heavily. She grunted as your nails dug into the soft skin of her shoulders, and her hands on your hips made you move faster.

"Fuck, Wanda." You whined as your clit rubbed against her lower stomach, adding to the stimulation the toy was already giving you.

"Such a slut for me, hm?" She growled under her breath, her hand wrapping around your throat made your head move back up, looking her dead in the eye as you whimpered weakly. "Mhm, all yours— Fuck!— all yours." She hummed happily at your answer. Your grinding got faster until you decided it wasn't enough for you. You lifted yourself up till the halfway point of the strap, before falling back down. Wanda groaned.

"Keep doing that, baby. Fuck, you take my cock so well, such a good girl." She husked, making you whine. You did as you were told, your skin hitting hers everytime you slammed back down. "Wanda, Please." You moaned, scratching at her shoulders. She got impatient, seeing you ontop of her like this was making her head feel fuzzy. Her fingers dug into her waist as she started thrusting up into you, copying the movements of your hips. "Fuck!" You moaned loudly, your head falling back as your eyes screwed shut. Your moans started coming out in 'ah, ah, ah.' as she pounded up into you, desperate to make you cum.

"Wanda— please, i'm close." You whined, your eyes focused on her face. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth open in deep breaths as she stared at the way your cunt was swallowing the strap as she pushed her hips up. "Yeah?" She breathed, not eyes not moving. "Is my slut gonna cum for me, hm? All over my cock?" She said shakily, her own arousal dripping down her thighs. "Mhm, please."

You moans became high pitched and breathy as she focused solely on making you cum. "Beg for it, like the good girl you are." Her eyes finally moved up to your face, and she swore she could've came just from the sight of your pleasured expression. "Please, Wanda. Please let me cum, i'll be good— i'll be your good slut, please i need it." You got out between moans, her hips somehow moving faster. Just as you thought it couldn't get any better, one of her hands loosened its strong grip on your waist and started rubbing circles around your clit. "Cum for me, baby." And you did, and it was intense. Your moans were loud and broken, and your eyes had rolled back so far she could barely see them anymore.

She helped you ride out your high with the thrusts of her hips before stopping completely, setting you back down on her strap. She sat up, wrapping her arms around you as you collapsed into her body. "Fuck." You panted out, your head on her shoulder. You whined in sensitivity as you shifted slightly, feeling the toy that was still buried inside of you move. "You did so good for me baby, so good." You nodded weakly, your eyes closed as you panted against her shoulder.  "I wanna-" You started, out of breath. "I wanna make you feel good."

You whined, lifting your head back up when you finally got your breath back. One of her eyebrows quirked up, a smirk spreading across her lips. "Yeah? You wanna be a good girl and return the favour?" She hummed, so desperate to have you between her legs. You nodded, your eyes heavy. You put your hands on either side of her face and pressed your lips to hers, whining as her tongue slipped past your lips. She helped you off the toy, and you led back on the bed, your breath coming out in heavy pants. You turned to her when you heard her hum happily. "Your mind is a lot quieter." She said, her voice cocky. "Wanda!" You whined, playfully hitting her shoulder. She rolled her eyes with a grin.

[simjaexy]

𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 | 𝙔.𝙅.

Pairing ⇀ Patient! Yang Jungwon x Patient! (F) Reader

Synopsis ⇀ After a traumatic event leaves you struggling to cope, you get admitted to a mental hospital in hopes of finding peace and healing. Feeling lost and overwhelmed on your arrival, you meet Jungwon, a fellow patient with his own burdens and a mysterious past. Even though Jungwon is a bit hot headed and tend to come off as rude and smart to people, you find solace in Jungwon company. What happens when you and Jungwon go through struggles together? Will he open up to you to his mysterious past? Or will he shut himself out, just like he did with everyone else?

Genre ⇀ ANGST, Fluff (If you squint), Eventual Smut

Warning ⇀ Implied character deaths, Car accident, Family issues (Jungwon side), Crying, Smoking, Depression, Mis-Communication, Fighting (Reader gets hit once in one), Shots, Arguments, No comfort, Jungwon is mean to Reader a lot, Jungwon has anger issues, Dom! Jungwon x Sub! Reader, Making out, Eating out, Overstimulation, No protection, have a feeling I missed some so lmk!

W.c ⇀ 15.7k

A/n ⇀ Hey guys! Sorry for being inactive lately, studies have been coming at me left and right and I didn’t have time to make any fics. :( So why not make a depressing fic just because. 😼 Reminder everything in this fic is fake and not real! Sunghoon fic of Hidden Desires is almost done so please stay tune for that! I know a lot have been waiting for that so I apologize for the wait! Also, if you would like to be added to the perm taglist click here! Not proofread!

Masterlist here

You remember clearly how the snow flew ever so softly against the window. Your eyes full of innocence and curiosity. Your mom looked back and gave you a soft smile. You returned it as she looked away from you.

You continued watching the snow fall when all of a sudden you hear the sound of screeching tires and the crunch of metal against metal filled the air as the your car collided with another vehicle.

Time seemed to slow down, and in those agonizing moments, you could feel every jolt and impact. The world spun around you, and then, everything went black.

Months had passed since that fateful night, but the memory of the crash haunted you every waking moment. You sat in a dimly lit therapist's office, your hands trembling as you recounted the events leading up to the accident. Your therapist, Dr. Mitchell, listened intently, a look of concern etched on his face.

“I just can't get it out of my head," You said, your voice barely above a whisper, "Every time I close my eyes, I see it happening all over again."

Dr. Mitchell nodded sympathetically, "You've been through a traumatic experience, and it's completely understandable that you're struggling. But I think it's time we consider a different approach to your treatment."

You looked up, confusion and apprehension mingling in you eyes, "What do you mean?"

“I believe that a more intensive form of therapy might be beneficial for you," Dr. Mitchell explained gently, "There's a mental health facility that specializes in helping individuals who have experienced severe trauma. I think it could be a good fit for you."

Your heart raced at the thought of being admitted to a mental hospital. The idea was daunting, since you’ve never been to one before, but you knew that you couldn't go on living like this. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the constant anxiety—it was all too much to bear.

“Okay," You said finally, your voice steady despite the fear gnawing at your insides. "I'll do it."

The rain poured heavily as you stepped out of the car, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and uncertainty. The imposing building of the mental hospital loomed ahead, its grey facade blending with the stormy sky. You took a deep breath, clutching your bag tightly, and made your way to the entrance.

As you entered, the sterile smell of disinfectant filled the air. A kind-looking woman approached you, her smile warm yet professional.

"Welcome," She said softly. "I'm Dr. Kim, the head of this facility. I'll be escorting you to your room."

You nodded, feeling a slight sense of relief at her reassuring demeanor. She led you through the winding corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls. The hospital seemed quiet, almost eerily so, with only the occasional murmur of voices or the distant sound of a door closing.

Just as you were beginning to feel a sense of calm, a commotion erupted from a nearby hallway. Raised voices and the sound of a struggle reached your ears. Dr. Kim's expression tightened, and she quickened her pace, urging you to follow closely.

As you turned the corner, you saw them – two boys in the midst of a heated fight.

One of them, with strikingly intense eyes and a determined expression, was on top of another boy. He was grappling the another boy, their movements a blur of fists and fury. The sight was shocking, a stark contrast to the otherwise serene environment.

“Jungwon, stop!" Dr. Kim's voice cut through the chaos, authoritative and firm. The boys hesitated, their breathing heavy, but the fight didn't completely cease.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do. Jungwon's eyes flickered towards you for a brief moment, and something in his gaze made your heart ache. There was pain there, and anger, but also a flicker of something else – a plea for help, perhaps.

Dr. Kim stepped between them, her presence commanding, "This is not the place for this," She said sternly, "Both of you, to your rooms. Now."

Reluctantly, the boys separated, still glaring at each other. Jungwon's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned and walked away, his shoulders tense.

Dr. Kim sighed, turning back to you with an apologetic smile, "I'm sorry you had to witness that. Sometimes, emotions run high here. Let's continue to your room."

You nodded, still shaken by the encounter. As you followed Dr. Kim, you couldn't help but glance back towards the hallway where Jungwon had disappeared, a sense of unease settling in your chest. This place was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place of healing – but it seemed there were deeper wounds here than you had anticipated.

You followed Dr. Kim down the sterile, white-walled corridor of the mental hospital. The soft click of her heels echoed in the quiet hallway, a stark contrast to the turmoil inside your mind. She opened the door and stepped aside, allowing you to enter first.

“This will be your room for the duration of your stay,” She said softly, her voice filled with a calm reassurance, “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask the staff.”

You nodded, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Dr. Kim.”

She gave you one last encouraging look before leaving, the door closing with a soft click behind her. You stood there for a moment, taking in the room. It was simple, yet comforting in its own way.

A single bed with crisp white sheets, a small wooden desk, and a chair. The window overlooked a garden, the trees swaying gently in the breeze.

You walked over to the bed and set down your suitcase. As you began to unpack, the memories of the crash started to flood back. You tried to push them away, focusing instead on the mundane task of organizing your belongings. But the images were relentless.

You could still hear the screeching of tires, the shattering of glass, and the deafening silence that followed. You remembered the fear, the panic, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. Your hands trembled as you folded your clothes, the fabric slipping through your fingers.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You couldn’t let the memories consume you. Not now. Not when you were trying to heal. You placed your clothes in the small dresser, each movement deliberate and slow, as if grounding yourself in the present.

Once everything was unpacked, you sat on the edge of the bed, your body heavy with exhaustion. You lay down, the cool sheets a welcome relief against your skin. As you closed your eyes, the memories of the crash played out behind your eyelids like a haunting movie reel.

You remembered the faces of your parents, the ones who were no longer with you. The pain was sharp, cutting through the fog of your mind. You took another deep breath, focusing on the rise and fall of your chest. Slowly, the memories began to fade, replaced by the comforting rhythm of your breathing.

Sleep began to creep in, a gentle pull that you didn’t resist. As you drifted off, you silently promised yourself that you would get through this. One day at a time. You would find a way to heal, to move forward, even if it meant facing the painful memories head-on.

In the quiet of your room, you finally found a moment of peace. The world outside continued to turn, but for now, you allowed yourself to rest, finding solace in the promise of a new beginning.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains as you got ready for your first group therapy session. You were surprised when a nurse woke you up from your sleep already seeing it was the next day. You guessed the flashbacks really got to you.

The events of the previous day still lingered in your mind, especially the sight of Jungwon fighting in the hallway. You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the unease. Today was a new day, and you were determined to make the most of it.

You left your room and made your way down the corridor, the soft hum of the hospital’s air conditioning filling the silence. As you walked past someone room, you heard raised voices. Curiosity got the better of you, and you slowed your pace, peeking inside.

Jungwon was there, his face flushed with anger as he argued with a nurse, "I told you, I don’t need any help!" he snapped, his voice sharp and filled with frustration. The nurse tried to calm him, but Jungwon’s agitation only seemed to grow.

Feeling a pang of sympathy and a bit of fear, you quickly walked away, not wanting to be seen. The intensity of his emotions was palpable, and it left you feeling unsettled.

You continued down the hallway and finally reached the room where the group therapy session was being held.

As you entered, you were greeted by a circle of chairs, each occupied by someone who, like you, was here to find a way through their struggles. The therapist, a gentle-looking woman named Dr. Lee, welcomed you with a warm smile, "Come in, take a seat," she said kindly.

You sat down, trying to focus on the session. The group began to share their stories, each person’s vulnerability and courage inspiring in its own way. But your mind kept drifting back to Jungwon, wondering what had pushed him to such anger.

During a break, you overheard two doctors talking near the doorway, "Did you hear about Jungwon?" one of them said. "He’s not going to be in the group sessions today."

“Again? Why?" the other doctor asked, sounding surprised.

“Apparently, his behavior has been too disruptive. They think it’s best that he stays in his room." the first doctor replied.

You felt a mix of emotions – relief that you wouldn’t have to witness another outburst, but also sadness for Jungwon. It was clear he was struggling deeply, and it pained you to think of him being isolated even further.

When the session resumed, you tried to focus on the stories being shared, drawing strength from the collective resilience of the group. But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but hope that Jungwon would find the help he needed, even if it wasn’t here in the group.

As the session ended, you left the room feeling a bit lighter, the support of the group giving you a sense of hope. But as you walked back to your room, you couldn’t shake the image of Jungwon’s angry face, and you silently wished him strength and healing in whatever path lay ahead for him.

After spending the morning in your room after two group sessions, it was time for lunch. You made your way down the corridor, the scent of food growing stronger with each step. The cafeteria was bustling with patients and staff, the noise a stark contrast to the quiet of your room.

You grabbed a tray and moved through the line, picking out a sandwich, some fruit, and a drink. As you turned to find a place to sit, a wave of uncertainty washed over you. The room was filled with people, but you felt alone, unsure where you belonged.

You scanned the room, looking for an empty seat. Just as you were about to settle at an isolated table in the corner, a guy approached you. He had a sly grin on his face, his eyes glinting with something that made you uneasy.

“Hey there,” he said, stepping closer, “Why don’t you sit with me?”

You hesitated, clutching your tray a little tighter. Before you could respond, he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm. Your heart raced, a sense of panic rising within you.

Suddenly, another voice cut through the tension, “Leave her alone.”

You looked up to see Jungwon standing there, his expression firm and serious. The guy stepped back, his grin fading as he realized he was outmatched.

“Mind your own business,” the guy muttered, but he didn’t push further. With a final glare, he walked away, leaving you and Jungwon standing there.

You turned towards Jungwon, you opened your mouth, ready to say a thank you, but Jungwon cut you off.

Jungwon turned to you, his eyes cold, “Seriously, can’t you handle anything on your own? If it weren’t for me saying something that guy probably would’ve assaulted you.” He snapped, “It’s like you were looking for trouble.”

His words stung, and before you could respond, he walked away, leaving you standing there with your tray. You felt a mix of gratitude and hurt, unsure how to process his sudden change in demeanor.

You found an empty table and sat down, the weight of the interaction pressing on your mind. As you ate, you couldn’t help but replay the scene in your head, wondering why Jungwon had been so harsh after helping you.

By the time you returned to your room, the encounter with Jungwon still lingered in your thoughts. The small spark of hope you had felt earlier was dimmed, replaced by confusion and a hint of sadness. Maybe, just maybe, this place wasn’t as comforting as you had hoped.

The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the hospital grounds. After a long day of therapy sessions and group activities, you decided to take a walk in the garden. The fresh air and the gentle rustling of leaves always brought you a sense of calm, a brief escape from the sterile walls of the hospital.

As you wandered through the garden, you noticed a figure sitting on a bench tucked away in a quiet corner. It was Jungwon. He seemed at peace, his eyes closed and a faint thin line playing on his lips. You paused, not wanting to disturb his moment of tranquility. There was something captivating about the way he looked, so different from his usual guarded demeanor.

You stood there for a while, watching him from a distance. The way the soft light highlighted his features made him seem almost ethereal. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice when his eyes fluttered open and landed on you.

“What are you staring at?” Jungwon’s voice cut through the silence, harsh and unexpected.

You blinked, taken aback by his sudden change in tone, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” He interrupted, standing up and closing the distance between you, “Spy on me? Invade my space?”

“No, I just...” You struggled to find the right words, confusion and hurt mixing in your chest, “I was just walking and saw you. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed, his expression hard, “You think just because we’re in the same place, you have the right to watch me like some kind of freak show?”

His words stung, each one like a sharp jab to your heart, “I didn’t mean it like that,” you said softly, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

For a moment, Jungwon’s face softened, but then he turned away, his shoulders tense, “Just... stay away from me,” He muttered before walking off, leaving you standing there in the fading light.

You watched him go, a heavy feeling settling in your chest. The peaceful moment you had witnessed was now overshadowed by his harsh words. You couldn’t understand why he had lashed out at you, why he seemed so angry when all you had done was admire the serenity he had found.

As you continued your walk, the garden no longer felt like a sanctuary. The beauty of the flowers and the gentle breeze couldn’t chase away the confusion and sadness that Jungwon’s words had left behind. You wondered if you would ever understand him, if there was more to his anger than what he had shown.

The next morning, you wake up with a sense of dread lingering from the previous evening's encounter with Jungwon. After getting ready, you head to the group therapy session, hoping to find some solace among others who understand your struggles.

As you enter the room, your eyes surprisingly immediately land on Jungwon. He's sitting in one of the seats, his expression unreadable. You hesitate for a moment, considering whether to sit next to him or not. The memory of his harsh words still stings, so you decide to sit far away, choosing a seat on the opposite side of the room.

The session begins, and Dr. Lee starts by asking everyone to share their experiences. As the circle progresses, you feel a knot forming in your stomach. When it’s your turn, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

“I’m here because of a car crash,” You begin, your voice trembling slightly, “It happened a few months ago. My parents... they didn’t make it. I was the only one who survived.”

The room is silent, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. You notice Jungwon watching you intently, his eyes softening as you continue.

“I’ve been struggling with survivor’s guilt,” You admit, tears welling up in your eyes, “Every day feels like a battle, and sometimes I don’t know how to keep going.”

Dr. Lee nods empathetically, offering you a comforting smile, “Thank you for sharing that. It takes a lot of courage to open up about such a painful experience.”

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and vulnerability. As the therapist moves on to Jungwon, you can’t help but glance in his direction. He’s staring at the floor, his hands clenched into fists.

“Jungwon, would you like to share why you’re here?” Dr. Lee asks gently.

For a moment, there’s only silence. Jungwon’s jaw tightens, and he shakes his head, “I don’t want to talk about it,” He mutters, his voice barely audible.

Dr. Lee respects his choice and moves on to the next person, but you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Jungwon’s story than he’s letting on. Throughout the session, you catch him glancing at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of curiosity and something else you can’t quite place.

As the session comes to an end, you gather your things and head for the door. To your surprise, Jungwon approaches you, his expression softer than you’ve ever seen it.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” he says quietly, avoiding your gaze, “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just... I have my own issues, and sometimes it’s hard to control my anger.”

You nod, appreciating his apology, “It’s okay. We’re all dealing with something here.”

Jungwon finally meets your eyes, and for the first time, you see a glimmer of vulnerability. But then it goes away just as fast and he walks away, leaving you alone in the room.

After the therapy session, you head back to your room, feeling a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The weight of sharing your story and hearing others' experiences has left you emotionally drained. As you settle into your bed, there's a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

The door opens, and the nurse from the day before steps in. You recognize her immediately as the one who had the confrontation with Jungwon. She smiles warmly at you, carrying a tray with some medication and a glass of water.

"How are you feeling today?" She asks, placing the tray on your bedside table.

"I'm okay," You reply, though your mind is buzzing with questions about Jungwon. You hesitate for a moment before deciding to ask, "Um, can I ask you something?"

"Of course," She says, her expression kind and patient.

"The day before yesterday, I saw you with Jungwon. He seemed really upset. Do you know what happened to him?" You ask, hoping for some insight into the boy who has been occupying your thoughts.

The nurse's smile falters slightly, and she shakes her head, "I'm sorry, but I can't discuss another patient's history or personal information."

You nod, understanding the need for confidentiality, but you can't help feeling a bit disappointed. The nurse notices your expression and seems to soften.

"Jungwon has been through a lot," She says carefully, choosing her words with caution, "Sometimes, people have experiences that are difficult to talk about, and it affects how they interact with others."

Her words linger in the air, and you sense there's more to Jungwon's story than she's letting on. The nurse gives you a knowing look, almost as if she's trying to convey something without breaking any rules.

"Just remember," She continues, "everyone here has their own battles. Some are just more visible than others."

You nod again, feeling a bit more at ease. The nurse's words, though vague, give you a glimpse into the pain Jungwon might be hiding. She hands you the medication and waits while you take it, then collects the empty glass.

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to call," She says before leaving the room.

As the door closes behind her, you lie back on your bed, your mind racing with thoughts about Jungwon. You can't shake the feeling that there's something significant in his past that has shaped him into who he is now.

The sun was slowly setting indicating it was almost time for bed. You let out a yawn and rolled on your side. Your hoping tomorrow will be a more peaceful day.

The morning light filters through the thin curtains of your hospital room, gently waking you from a restless sleep. You stretch and decide that today, you'll make an effort to eat breakfast. It's been days since you arrived, and the thought of food hasn't crossed your mind much, but you know you need to take care of yourself.

You slip into a pair of slippers and make your way to the cafeteria. The smell of pancakes and coffee fills the air, and your stomach growls in response. You grab a tray and select a modest breakfast: some scrambled eggs, toast, and a small bowl of fruit. Scanning the room, you notice most of the tables are occupied by small groups or pairs, deep in conversation.

Finding an empty table near the window, you start to head that way when a voice calls out to you, "Hey, are you new here? Wanna sit with me?"

You turn to see a girl around your age, with bright eyes and a friendly smile. Grateful for the company, you nod and make your way over to her table, "Sure, thanks," you say, setting your tray down and taking a seat.

"I'm Mia," she introduces herself, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mia. I'm Y/n." You reply, shaking her hand.

As you start eating, Mia glances at you with curiosity, "I heard you talking about a crash in the group session yesterday. That must have been really tough."

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat, "Yeah, it was. It's been hard to process everything."

Mia gives you a sympathetic look, "I can't imagine what you're going through. But talking about it is a good step. It helps to share, even if it's painful."

You appreciate her understanding and openness. As you continue your conversation, you notice Jungwon entering the cafeteria.

He looks tired, his hair slightly disheveled, and yet he still looks handsome. There's a quiet determination in his eyes as he grabs a tray and starts selecting his breakfast.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you turn to Mia, "Do you know anything about Jungwon?" You ask, keeping your voice low.

Mia's expression shifts slightly, and she nods, "Yeah, I do. Jungwon's story is pretty intense. He doesn't talk about it much, but word gets around in a place like this."

She pauses, gathering her thoughts before continuing, "Jungwon had a rough childhood. His parents weren't around much, and he had to fend for himself a lot. There was an incident a few years ago that really changed him. He lost someone very close to him in a tragic accident. It left him with a lot of guilt and anger, and he's been struggling to cope ever since."

You listen intently, feeling a pang of empathy for Jungwon, "That sounds really hard," you say softly.

Mia nods, "It is. But he's strong, even if he doesn't always show it. He's been trying to work through his pain, just like the rest of us. Maybe one day, he'll open up more."

As Jungwon walks back towards his room with a tray, you can't help but feel a deeper connection to him. You understand now that his silence and his struggles are rooted in a past filled with pain.

As much as you wanna know more, you think focusing on building connections with the people around you first, starting with Mia. The road to healing is gonna be long, but with a friend by your side, it feels a little less daunting.

The room was filled with a mix of nervous energy and cautious optimism as the group gathered for their weekly session. Today’s topic was coping mechanisms, a crucial skill for everyone present.

The facilitator began the session by guiding the group through various techniques, from breathing exercises to journaling, aiming to equip them with tools to manage their emotions.

As the session progressed, the atmosphere lightened, and soon it was time for a break. You decided to grab a cup of coffee from the corner of the room with Mia. While you were pouring yourself a drink, you overheard two guys whispering near the window. Their voices were low, but the disdain in their tone was unmistakable.

“Did you hear what Jungwon did a few days ago? Always trying to start stuff," one of them sneered.

“Yeah, always trying to act like he's better than everyone else. It's pathetic," the other one added, chuckling.

You glanced over and noticed Jungwon standing nearby, his face paling as he caught every word. His fists clenched at his sides, and you could see the anger building in his eyes. Before you could intervene, Jungwon stormed over to the two guys.

"Say that to my face!" Jungwon shouted, his voice trembling with rage.

The room fell silent as everyone turned to watch the confrontation. The two guys smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction they had provoked. One of them stepped forward, ready to escalate the situation.

"You heard us. You're nothing but a—"

Before he could finish, Jungwon threw a punch, and chaos erupted. The facilitator and nurses rushed over, trying to separate them.

Amos tried grabbing you as you quickly moved to help, “Y/n no!” You heard Mia yell.

You grabbed Jungwon's arm in an attempt to pull him back. In the confusion, Jungwon swung his arm wildly, accidentally hitting you in the face.

Pain shot through your cheek, and you stumbled back, clutching your face. The room was a blur of shouting and movement as the nurses finally managed to pull Jungwon away, restraining him.

"Are you okay?" one of the nurses asked, her eyes wide with concern as she helped you to a chair. Mia quickly went by your side holding you up.

You nodded, still dazed from the impact. "I'm fine," you muttered, though your cheek throbbed painfully.

As Jungwon's anger flared, he didn't even notice that he had accidentally hit you. His focus remained solely on yelling at the guys, his voice echoing through the room.

The nurses quickly realized that the situation was spiraling out of control. Despite his protests, they managed to escort him out, hoping that some fresh air would help him cool down.

Mia sobbed, her worry not fading watching you hold your cheek, "Let's get you back to your room so they can patch you up properly."

You both made your way to your room, where the nurse was waiting with a first aid kit. The nurse looked up as they entered and gave the reader a grateful smile, “Thank you for stepping in earlier. It was very brave of you, but also quite dangerous."

You winced slightly as the nurse began to clean the cut on her cheek, "I know. I just couldn't stand by and do nothing."

The nurse nodded, her expression thoughtful, "What surprised me was how Jungwon seemed to calm down for a quick second when you touched him. It was like he recognized you and it brought him back to reality, even if just for a moment."

You thought back to the incident, remembering the brief flicker of recognition in Jungwon's eyes, "Yeah, I noticed that too. Maybe there's still a part of him that knows we're here to help."

The nurse finished applying a bandage to your cheek and gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder, "Let's hope so. Just be careful next time, alright?"

You nodded, feeling a mix of relief and determination, "I will. Thanks for helping me out."

Mia gave the reader a gentle hug, "We'll get through this together. Just take it easy for now, okay?"

You smiled, grateful for her friend's support, "Okay, Mia. Thanks for being here."

She gave you a bright smile before exiting the room with the nurse. You let out a pained sigh and lay on your bed. You decided to just skip lunch and your group sessions for the rest of day by sleeping.

You weren’t sure what time it was given how it was pitch dark out when you were jolted awake by a sudden, insistent knocking on your door. Groggy and disoriented, you stumbled out of bed and made your way to the door, wondering who could be visiting at such an odd hour.

As you opened it, you were surprised to see Jungwon standing there, his expression a mix of frustration and something else she couldn't quite place.

"Jungwon? What are you doing here?" You asked, your voice still heavy with sleep.

He didn't waste any time, "Why did you step in earlier?" He demanded, his tone sharp.

You blinked, trying to gather your thoughts, "I wanted to help. I didn't want you to get into trouble."

Jungwon sighed, running a hand through his hair, "You can't do that again. When I get angry, I can't stop until I see the person on the ground, not breathing. Do you understand?"

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You could see the seriousness in his eyes, and it scared you, "What do they do to you, Jungwon?" You asked quietly, needing to understand what was happening to him.

He looked away, his jaw tightening, "They gave me a shot to make me fall asleep. It's the only way they can control me when I get like that."

Your heart ached for him. Your reached out and gently touched his arm, trying to offer some comfort, "I'm sorry you have to go through that. But you have to know that I'm here for you, even if it's dangerous."

Jungwon looked back at you, his eyes softening for a moment. But when he noticed your arm on him, he quickly retreated back, “Don’t step in like that again."

You nodded, understanding the gravity of his request. "I promise. But please, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

He scoffed, “I stopped asking for help a long time ago.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he turned away and left, leaving you alone once again. You quietly shut your door and head back to your bed. You fell asleep hoping that Jungwon will open up soon, even if it meant going out of boundaries.

The morning sun was setting through the window of your room where Mia and you sat on your bed, cards spread out between them. Mia was patiently teaching you a new card game, her voice calm and encouraging.

"Okay, so you want to match the suits, like this," Mia explained, demonstrating with a couple of cards. You nodded, trying to follow along, when there was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," You called out, glancing up from the cards. A nurse poked her head in and smiled.

"You have a visitor," The nurse said.

You frowned in confusion, "A visitor? Who could it be?"

The nurse stepped aside, and in walked your aunt, her face lighting up with a mix of relief and concern as she saw her niece, “Auntie!" You exclaimed, standing up quickly and moving to embrace her.

"How did you know I was here?" You asked, pulling back slightly to look at your aunt.

Your aunt sighed, brushing a strand of hair from the reader's face, "Your therapist told me. I was so worried when I heard."

As you both stood there, your aunt's eyes fell on the patch on your cheek. Her expression shifted to one of worry, "What happened to your face, sweetheart?"

You touched the patch self-consciously and gave a small, reassuring smile, “It's nothing serious, Auntie. Just a little accident. I'm doing fine, really."

Mia, sensing the need for some privacy, began to gather up the cards, "I'll give you two some time to catch up," She said kindly, offering you a supportive smile before slipping out of the room.

Your aunt guided you back to the bed, sitting down beside her, “Tell me how you're really doing," She insisted gently.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "It's been tough, but I'm managing. The doctors and nurses here are great, and Mia's been a big help. I'm working through things with my therapist, and I feel like I'm making progress."

Your aunt nodded, her eyes filled with empathy, "I'm glad to hear that. It's important to take things one day at a time. Just know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

You felt a wave of gratitude and relief wash over her, “Thank you, Auntie. That means a lot."

You both spent the next hour talking, catching up on family news and sharing memories. Your aunt's presence was a comforting reminder of home and the support system waiting for you outside the hospital walls.

As you talked, you felt a renewed sense of hope and determination to keep pushing forward on your journey to recovery.

After spending a comforting hour with your aunt, you felt a sense of warmth and reassurance. You both shared a heartfelt hug, and you walked your aunt to the door of the hospital room.

"Thank you for coming, Auntie. It really means a lot to me," You said, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Anytime, sweetheart. Remember, I'm just a phone call away," Your aunt replied, giving one last squeeze before heading down the hallway.

You watched your aunt leave before turning back to her room. You hesitated for a moment, then decided to go find Mia. You wanted to invite Mia back to your room to continue their card game, hoping it would help distract you from the day's emotions.

As you approached Mia's room, the reader heard voices inside. You paused at the slightly ajar door and peeked in, your curiosity piqued. Mia was sitting on the edge of her bed, and Jungwon was standing in front of her, his expression tense.

"When are you going to tell her, Jungwon?" Mia asked, her voice filled with concern.

Jungwon's face hardened, and he responded harshly, "That's none of your business, Mia. Stay out of it."

Your heart sank as you watched the exchange. You noticed Jungwon turning to the door and quickly hid behind a chair. After he stormed out the room, walking the opposite direction you stood up, but only to be met face to face with Mia.

Mia looked up and saw you standing there, her eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, hey," She said, trying to mask her anxiety with a forced smile, "I didn't see you there."

You stepped in front of her, your mind racing with questions, "I was just coming to ask if you wanted to come back to my room," You said slowly, eyes flickering to the door where Jungwon had just exited.

Mia stood up, her expression softening, "Of course, I'd love to. I'm sorry about that... you know, what you just saw. It's... complicated."

You nodded, sensing Mia's reluctance to explain further, "It's okay," You said, though your mind was far from at ease, "Let's just go back and finish our game."

Mia followed you back to your room, the tension from the previous conversation still lingering in the air. You both sat down on your bed, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something important was being kept from you. You glanced at Mia, who was shuffling the cards with a focused expression, and decided not to press the issue for now.

As you both resumed the game, you tried to push the unsettling encounter out of your mind. But the questions remained, nagging at the back of your thoughts. What was Jungwon supposed to tell that person? And why was Mia so concerned? The answers would have to wait, but you knew you couldn't ignore them forever.

After a fun and intense game of cards, you and Mia share a laugh together as you kept messing up. The room is filled with warmth and the faint smell of antiseptic, but the laughter makes it feel almost like home.

You stand up, stretching slightly before announcing, "I'm going to use the restroom, I'll be right back."

As you walk down the dimly lit hospital corridor, the sound of your footsteps echoes softly. Turning a corner, you notice a faint haze and the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke.

Curiosity piqued, you peek around the corner and see a group of guys huddled together, smoking. Their faces are shadowed, and their laughter is low and menacing.

Your heart races as they try to quietly walk away, hoping to avoid any confrontation. But before you can escape, one of the guys notices and calls out, "Hey, where do you think you're going?" You freeze, feeling a knot of fear tighten in your stomach.

"Come here," Another guy demands, his voice rough. You hesitate but steps closer, trying to stay calm, "If you don’t tell anyone, we’ll let you have a hit." One of them says, holding out a cigarette. You shake your head, backing away slightly.

"No, thanks, we’re not supposed to be smoking anyways." You reply, trying to keep your voice steady. But the group steps closer, surrounding you. Your mind flashes back to what Jungwon had said earlier about being weak. Determined to prove him wrong, you tried to push past them, but one of the guys grabs your arm.

"What's the matter? Scared?" He taunts. Your pulse quickens, and you yank your arm free, shoving the guy away. Anger flares in his eyes, and the group tightens their circle.

"Leave me alone," You say firmly, but your voice wavers. The guys laugh mockingly, and one of them steps forward, pushing you against the wall.

"You're not going anywhere," He sneers. You struggles, trying to fight them off, but your outnumbered. The group grows more aggressive, their grip tightening.

Just as things seem dire, a loud voice echoes down the hallway, "Hey! What’s going on here?" You look up, hope sparking in your eyes. A nurse rounds the corner, her expression stern and authoritative. The group hesitates, then reluctantly backs off, muttering under their breaths as they disperse.

The nurse rushes to your side, helping you stand, "Are you okay?" She asks, concern evident in her voice. You nod, still shaken but relieved.

"Yeah, I think so," You reply, your voice trembling slightly. The nurse escorts you back to your room, as you were reaching your room, you glanced back over your shoulder.

That's when you saw him—Jungwon. He stood at the edge of the hall, his expression serious and intense. He had been watching the entire scene unfold, his eyes never leaving you.

The nurse led you inside your room. You collapse into a chair, trying to steady your breathing, but your mind was also elsewhere. You couldn't shake the image of Jungwon standing there, watching you with such intensity. What had he been thinking? Why hadn't he stepped in to help when he saw you having trouble?

Mia goes up to you, worry etched on her face, "What happened?" She asks. You takes a deep breath, recounting the encounter briefly. Mia listens, her expression shifting from concern to anger.

"Those guys are the real weak ones," She says firmly, “You stood up to them, and that's what matters." You nod, feeling a sense of pride and relief wash over you.

When the nurse finally leaves, you found yourself drawn to the door, your gaze searching for Jungwon. He was still there, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. Your eyes met, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Finally, Jungwon pushed off the wall and walked the opposite way, leaving you confused and upset. Mia voice slowly disappeared as you continued staring at the door.

The night was thick with silence, the kind that made every creak and whisper seem amplified. You tossed and turned in your bed, unable to find any semblance of sleep. Frustration gnawed at you, and you finally decided that a walk might help clear your mind. Slipping out of bed, you padded quietly down the sterile hallways and out into the hospital garden.

The garden was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting long shadows that danced with the gentle breeze. As you wandered aimlessly, you spotted a familiar figure seated at a bench—Jungwon. He was in the same spot you had seen him before, his posture rigid, his gaze distant. You felt a pang of something you couldn't quite name and decided to turn away.

But before you could take another step, his voice cut through the stillness, "Stop," He commanded, his tone cold and unyielding. You froze, your heart pounding, "Sit with me," He added, though it was less of a request and more of an order.

You hesitated, your pride and fear warring within you, "No, I don't think I should," You replied softly, trying to muster the courage to walk away.

Jungwon's expression darkened, and he stood up, closing the distance between them in a few quick strides, "I said, sit with me," He repeated, his voice harsh and leaving no room for argument.

Swallowing your apprehension, you nodded and followed him back to the bench. You both sat in silence for a few moments, the tension between you guys palpable.

Gradually, the stillness of the night began to soothe your nerves, and you found yourself gazing up at the stars. They seemed to twinkle with a kind of serene indifference, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart.

Jungwon finally broke the silence, "You were brave," He said, his voice softer now but still carrying that edge of seriousness, "What you did with those guys... it took guts."

You glanced at him, surprised by the unexpected compliment, "I just didn't want to be seen as weak," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to look at you, his boba eyes reflecting the starlight, "Bravery isn't about never being scared. It's about facing your fears, even when you're terrified," He said quietly. "You did that. Although I think I’m the cause to why you acted like that."

His words hung in the air between them, and you felt a mix of emotions—gratitude, confusion, and something else you couldn't quite place. You both sat there for a while longer, simply admiring the stars. The silence between you guys was no longer tense but filled with an unspoken understanding. As the night wore on, you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

When you both finally stood to leave, Jungwon's serious demeanor softened just a bit, "Next time you can't sleep, come find me," He said. "We can admire the stars together."

Your eyes widened before a soft smile rose on your lips, feeling a warmth spread through your chest, "I will," You promised. And as you walked back to your room, you felt a sense of peace you hadn't known you needed.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, gently waking you from a restless sleep. You rubbed your eyes and stretched, knowing today was the group therapy session.

You got ready, feeling a mix of anticipation and nervousness. The sessions lately have been going good with Mia by your side. You felt grateful with her, but today felt different.

As you walked into the room, you noticed Jungwon sitting alone, his usual cold and serious demeanor even more pronounced.

You took a deep breath and decided to sit next to him. He gave you a brief glance but didn’t object, which you took as a good sign.

The session began, and everyone shared their updates. You could feel the tension in the room when it was Jungwon’s turn. He had never opened up before, always keeping his emotions tightly locked away.

To everyone’s surprise, Jungwon started to speak. His voice was low and controlled as he began, "My parents… they never really cared for me. It was always about what I could do for them, not about who I was or how I felt."

The room fell silent, everyone hanging on his every word. He didn’t go into much detail, but the mere fact that he was sharing was a huge step. When he finished, he simply looked down, not saying anything more.

You felt a surge of pride for him. Jungwon had taken a significant step by opening up, even if it was brief. The group might have been shocked, but you understood the courage it took for him to speak up.

Dr. Lee immediately spoke, “T-Thats amazing that you shared Jungwon. I’m glad you did.” Jungwon didn’t say anything.

As the session ended, you gave him a small, encouraging smile, hoping it conveyed your support. He didn’t give a smile back and simply got up and left. Mia stood next to you, “I can’t believe he actually said something.”

You gave her a small chuckle, “Me too. It’s a big step.” You murmured. Mia nodded her head. You both headed to lunch with. few other people.

As you and Mia joked around, ready to head to the cafeteria, Dr. Kim's voice halted you in your tracks, "Can I speak with you for a moment?" She asked, her tone serious. You turned to see her standing in the doorway of her office, her expression unreadable.

"Sure, Dr. Kim," you replied, you looked at Mia who gave you an understanding nod, and you following her into the room. She closed the door behind you and gestured for you to sit. You took a seat, feeling a knot of anxiety form in your stomach.

"I saw you in the garden last night," Dr. Kim began, her eyes locking onto yours, "With Jungwon."

Your heart skipped a beat. You and Jungwon had thought you were alone, away from prying eyes, "I... we were just talking," You stammered, unsure of what to say.

Dr. Kim nodded, her expression softening slightly, "I understand that you're trying to help him. And I commend you for that. Jungwon is a difficult person to reach, and it seems you've managed to get through to him in a way that no one else has."

You felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe she was going to support your friendship with Jungwon. But then her expression turned serious again, "However, I need to warn you. Jungwon is a troubled person. He has a lot of issues that he's dealing with, and I'm concerned about the impact it could have on you."

You opened your mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to stop you, "I know you care about him. But you need to think about your own well-being too. It's not your responsibility to fix him. He needs professional help, and while your support is valuable, it can't replace that."

Her words stung, but you knew she was right. Jungwon had been through a lot, and his cold, hard exterior was a defense mechanism he had built to protect himself.

You had seen glimpses of the real Jungwon, the one who was vulnerable and hurting, but you also knew that he had a long road ahead of him.

"I just want you to be careful," Dr. Kim continued, "You have a big heart, and it's admirable that you want to help. But don't lose yourself in the process."

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions. You cared about Jungwon deeply, but you also understood the risks involved, "I understand, Dr. Kim. I'll be careful."

She gave you a small smile, her eyes filled with empathy, "That's all I ask. Now, go and enjoy your lunch. And remember, I'm here if you need to talk."

You left her office, your mind racing with thoughts. You knew you couldn't abandon Jungwon, but you also had to take care of yourself. It was a delicate balance, one that you would have to navigate carefully.

As you walked to the cafeteria, you resolved to be there for Jungwon, but also to heed Dr. Kim's advice. You would find a way to support him without losing yourself in the process.

Once you came to the cafeteria, you sat down in front of Mia. Mia looked up from her book, immediately noticing the troubled expression on your face.

"What's wrong?" She asked, concern evident in her voice.

You sighed and sat down on your bed, running a hand through your hair, "Dr. Kim told me to stay away from Jungwon," You admitted, feeling a lump form in your throat, "She said he's too troubled and that I need to think about my own well-being."

Mia's eyes widened slightly, and she put her book aside, "She told me the same thing," Mia confessed, her voice soft, "And back then, I actually did stay away from him."

You looked at her, surprised, "How long have you known Jungwon?"

Mia sighed, leaning back against the headboard, "Jungwon was in the hospital longer than I was," She explained, "But I only knew him because my guy friend used to be friends with him before he got discharged. After my friend left, I stopped talking to Jungwon."

You felt a pang of sympathy for Jungwon, realizing how many people had distanced themselves from him, "Why did you stop talking to him?"

Mia shrugged, a sad smile on her face, "It was easier that way. Jungwon's issues were too much for me to handle, and I had to focus on my own recovery. But I always felt guilty about it. I did promise my guy friend that I’d stay by Jungwon side for him."

You nodded, understanding her perspective, "I don't want to abandon him," You said softly, "But I also don't want to lose myself in the process."

Mia reached out and squeezed your hand, "It's a tough situation," She said gently, "But you have to find a balance. You can support him, but you also need to take care of yourself. Don't let his problems consume you."

You took a deep breath, feeling a bit more grounded, "Thanks, Mia. I needed to hear that."

She smiled, her eyes filled with empathy, "Anytime. Just remember, you're not alone in this. We're all here for you."

You walked into the second group session, scanning the room for familiar faces. But one face was missing – Jungwon. You assumed he had already spoken and decided not to stick around. The session went on, but your mind kept drifting back to him, wondering what he was up to.

Once the session ended, you made your way back to your room. As you passed Dr. Kim's office, you were startled by the sound of yelling. You peered inside and saw Jungwon, his face contorted with rage, shouting at Dr. Kim.

"How could you do this to me?" He screamed, his voice filled with anger and hurt. He slammed his fist on her desk, sending papers flying. Dr. Kim tried to calm him down, but he was beyond reason.

Your heart pounded as you watched in shock. Jungwon's outburst escalated, and he started throwing things off the shelves, his fury uncontrollable. Nurses and doctors rushed in, trying to restrain him.

"No! Let me go!" Jungwon yelled, struggling against their grip.

You couldn't just stand there, "Don't give him a shot!" You shouted, running towards them, "Please, just let him calm down on his own."

The medical staff hesitated, clearly unsure of how to proceed. Dr. Kim looked at you, her expression a mix of concern and frustration, "We're trying to help him," She said firmly.

"I know," You replied, your voice trembling, "But sedating him won't solve anything. He needs to feel like he has some control."

Slowly, Jungwon's resistance weakened, and he slumped in the doctors' hold, exhausted from his outburst. They guided him back to his room, and you followed closely behind, making sure they didn't administer any medication.

As you reached his room, you stepped inside, and the staff left, giving you a moment alone with him. Jungwon sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, breathing heavily.

"Hey," You said softly, sitting down next to him, "Are you okay?"

He looked up at you, his eyes red and filled with a mix of anger and sadness, "I don't know," He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, "Everything just feels so messed up."

You placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "It's okay to feel that way," You said gently, “But you don't have to go through it alone. We're all here to help you, even if it doesn't always feel that way."

Jungwon nodded slowly, absorbing your words. It was silent for a few seconds before he slowly shrugged you off. Not again. "Thanks," He muttered, "I just... I don't know how to deal with all of this."

"We'll figure it out together," You promised. "One step at a time."

For the first time since you entered the room, you saw a flicker of hope in Jungwon's eyes. It was a small step, but it was a step in the right direction. And as you sat there with him, you knew you would do everything in your power to help him find his way.

You waited patiently for a few seconds before you decided to ask him a question, “Jungwon, what was Dr. Kim saying to you?” You questioned. It was silent for a while.

You felt like you stepped out of line and tried to cover it up, but Jungwon spoke before you did, “She was saying that… that my sister was gonna see me today, but she told her that I wasn’t in right mind to be visisted.” He whispered.

You were lost in thought. Jungwon's expression shifted, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features, "I don't know," He muttered, looking away, "I just... don't."

"That doesn't make sense," you pressed gently, "Why would she say that to her? I haven’t really known you for a long time, but I know you’d never do something stupid to your sister."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It's complicated," He said, his voice softer now, "I have... issues."

You took a step closer, your heart aching for him, "Jungwon, what kind of issues?"

Jungwon hesitated, his eyes darting around as if looking for an escape. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "Anger issues. People don't want to be near me because of it."

You felt a pang of sadness, "Is that why you were upset? Because you think your sister wouldn't want to be near you?"

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the floor, "Yeah. I guess... I just assumed she’d be like everyone else."

“Jungwon," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. "I'm not like everyone else. I want to understand you, to help you if I can. And I know your sister would too.”

He looked up, his eyes filled with a mix of uncertainty, "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I care about you," you replied honestly, "Everyone has their struggles, and it doesn't make them any less worthy of friendship or support."

For a moment, Jungwon seemed to struggle with his emotions. Then, slowly, he began to open up, "I've always had a hard time controlling my anger," He admitted, "It scares people away. They think I'm dangerous, that I'll hurt them."

"But that's not who you are," You said firmly, "You're more than your anger. And I'm willing to stand by you, if you'll let me."

Jungwon stared at you for a hot second before staring down on the ground. You can tell he was fighting some dry comment, "Thank you," He whispered, "I don't know if I deserve it, but... thank you."

You smiled, feeling a sense of relief and hope? "We'll figure it out together," you promised.

As you both sat there, but being able to move, you knew this was a big step for Jungwon to opening up to you. You hoped you helped in some way about being comfortable.

"Jungwon, can I ask you another question?" You asked gently.

He looked at you, you noticed his eyes shifted from soft to hard and guarded, "What is it?”

"I want to understand you better," You said, "I want to know why you always seem so angry." If you were going to help him, you’d have to know why he always felt angry and out of place.

Jungwon sighed, running a hand through his hair, "It's complicated," He muttered, looking away.

"Try me," You encouraged, "I'm here to listen."

He hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke, his voice low and filled with pain, "I’m not really sure why I have it, but my parents never paid much attention to me," He began, "They were always too busy with their own lives. The only person who ever really cared about me was my older sister. She promised she'd always be there for me, but when she went to college, she never contacted me again. No calls, no visits. Nothing."

You felt your heart ache for him, "That must have been really hard."

"It was," Jungwon admitted, "But it got worse. I had a best friend, Sunoo. He was the only one who understood me, who made me feel like I wasn't alone. But then he passed away. It felt like the universe was against me, like everyone I cared about would eventually leave me."

You saw his eyes turning glossy, but then he blinked and harshly wiped them away, "I'm so sorry, Jungwon," You whispered, "That must have been unbearable."

He nodded, “That's why I never got close to people. I pushed everyone away, even Mia and our other friend. Because at the end of the day, they left me too. I couldn't bear the thought of getting close to someone else, only to lose them."

You reached out and gently took his hand, "You're not alone anymore, Jungwon. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere.”

“How do I know if I can trust you?” He whispered. You immediately fought the urge to hug him. Like you said before, you aren’t really that close. But he was willing to open up to you. So you’ll leave at that for now.

“Because I’m not willing to leave anytime soon until you’re better.” You spoke, your face serious.

Jungwon didn’t say anything, instead he looked out his window. You knew you didn’t need another reason to stay any longer, so you stood up from his bed and headed towards the door.

“Please let me know if you need anything Jungwon.” You said. Jungwon didn’t look at you. You let out a quiet sigh before shutting his door with a click.

The day had been long, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the hospital began to quiet down. You had just finished your last group session for the day and decided to take a moment for yourself. After a quick trip to the bathroom, you were headed back to your room when you overheard a conversation that stopped you in your tracks.

Two nurses were talking in hushed tones near the nurses' station, "I heard Dr. Kim is planning to transfer Jungwon to another hospital," One of them said, her voice tinged with concern, "He's been so angry and upset lately. They think a change of environment might help."

Your heart skipped a beat. Jungwon was going to be sent away? You couldn't believe it. After you finally got to know more about him, he’s being sent away?

Without thinking, you made your way to Jungwon's room. The hallway seemed longer than usual, your footsteps echoing in the silence. When you reached his door, you hesitated for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Then, summoning your courage, you knocked softly.

A few moments later, the door opened, and there stood Jungwon, his expression as unreadable, "What is it?" He asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves, "I just overheard the nurses talking. They said Dr. Kim is planning to transfer you to another hospital."

Jungwon's face remained impassive, showing no sign of surprise or concern. "I knew she was gonna do something," He replied simply, his tone flat.

You felt a wave of frustration and sadness wash over you. How could he be so indifferent? "Aren't you worried? Don't you care?" You asked, your voice trembling slightly.

Jungwon's eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—an emotion, perhaps—before it disappeared, "It's not my decision to make," He said quietly, "If she think it's best for me, then so be it."

You stood there, searching for the right words, "I just... I don't want you to go," You admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, "I feel like I’ve known you too late, I still want to help you.”

Jungwon's gaze softened ever so slightly, but he remained silent. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, "Thank you," He said, his voice almost gentle, "But I guess Kim was right, it's easier to keep people at a distance."

You suddenly felt anger. Why does he listen to her? “Jungwon, what Dr. Kim says to you isn’t true. I don’t know why she treats you so horrible, but it’s not right!”

The air in the room was thick with tension after you finished. The words hung in the air, heavy and significant, but Jungwon's face remained impassive, showing no trace of emotion. You could feel your frustration building, a knot tightening in your chest. How could he just stand there, so unresponsive, when everything was falling apart around you?

"Jungwon," you began, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation, “Did you even hear what Dr. Kim said? Do you even care?"

Jungwon remained silent, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere beyond you. It was as if he was in another world, completely detached from the reality of the situation. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your nails digging into your palms.

“Say something, Jungwon!" You finally shouted, unable to hold back any longer, "Anything! Just let me know that you're feeling the same way I’m feeling!"

Before you could utter another word, Jungwon moved. In an instant, he was in front of you, his hands gently cupping your face. His eyes, which had seemed so distant moments ago, were now filled with an intensity that took your breath away. And then, without warning, he kissed you.

The kiss was soft yet urgent, a silent plea for understanding and forgiveness. It was as if he was pouring all the emotions he couldn't express into that single, tender moment. Your anger and frustration melted away, replaced by a flood of warmth and love. When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, you could see the unspoken apology in his eyes.

“I'm sorry," He whispered, his voice barely audible, "I just... I don’t know how to handle it. But I'm here. I'm with you."

You stared at his apologetic eyes. He kissed you. You suddenly felt that wave of sadness and before you could stop yourself, tears poured out of your eyes. Jungwon felt you tug at his shirt as you cried.

You didn’t want him to leave. To leave you. You don’t know how much longer you would stay here, and to have Jungwon be alone once again. Jungwon let your cry in his shirt, unable to push you away. And at the moment, the only thing left was you cries and sobs, and that one last string that was holding you and Jungwon together.

You woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, remnants of last night's tears still evident on your pillow. Every muscle in your body felt heavy, weighed down by the emotional turmoil you had gone through. The thought of eating breakfast or attending the group session seemed unbearable, so you decided to stay in bed, hoping to find some solace in the quiet of your room.

A soft knock on your door shattered the silence. You hesitated for a moment, then slowly got up to answer it. Standing there was Jungwon, his expression serious and his demeanor cold. The warmth and tenderness from last night seemed like a distant memory.

"Jungwon," You said, your voice barely above a whisper, “What are you doing here?"

"I'm leaving in a week," He stated bluntly, his eyes not meeting yours. The words hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt a fresh wave of sadness wash over you.

"In a week?" you repeated, your voice trembling.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped closer and gently rubbed your cheek, his touch surprisingly comforting despite his cold exterior. The memory of the kiss from last night flashed in your mind, and you couldn't help but ask the question that had been haunting you.

“Why did you kiss me, Jungwon?" You asked, your eyes searching his for any hint of the emotions he seemed to hide so well.

He finally looked at you, his gaze intense and unreadable, "I don’t know," He admitted, his voice quiet but firm, "It was just something I've been wanting to do."

The simplicity of his answer left you speechless. You had expected a deeper explanation, something that would make sense of the confusion and pain you were feeling. But as you stood there, looking into his eyes, you realized that sometimes, emotions couldn't be neatly explained or understood. They just were.

Jungwon's touch lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he pulled away, his expression softening just a fraction, "Just because I’m leaving, that doesn’t mean to take advantage of yourself Y/n. Take care of yourself," He said.

Now that you’ve looked at it, you noticed how his expressions were. His once anger that he always felt seemed to just have drifted away from him. He looked numb. Maybe he was only feeling that way towards you, or that he just gave up on trying.

“I won’t. Thank you.” You muttered.

It had been a long, dreading week since you learned that Jungwon was leaving on Friday. The news had hit you hard, but you resolved to spend as much time with him as possible before he left. Each day felt like it was slipping through your fingers, and the more you were with him, the more you noticed how numb he seemed. The seriousness that he held never wavered, and it was as if he was trying to distance himself emotionally before his departure.

You tried to make the most of the time you had, mostly in the garden and seeing the stars together. You liked watching his expression soften as he stared up at the stars.

The days flew by, and before you knew it, it was Friday—the day Jungwon was leaving. The morning felt heavy with unspoken words and emotions. You met him at the place where you'd first met, a small, quiet spot that held so many memories. He stood there, his face as unreadable as ever.

"Jungwon," you began, your voice trembling, "I can't believe today is the day."

He nodded, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance, "Yeah."

You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill, "I've noticed how numb you've been this week. Why, Jungwon? Why do you keep everything inside?"

He finally looked at you, his eyes softening just a bit, "It's just how I deal with things," He said quietly, "It's easier to be numb than to feel everything at once."

You reached out and took his hand, hoping to break through the walls he had built around himself, "But you don't have to do it alone. You don't have to shut everyone out."

For a moment, he squeezed your hand, a small but significant gesture, “I know," He said, his voice barely above a whisper, "But it's hard for me to open up. Especially now."

You felt a tear escape and quickly wiped it away, "I'll miss you, Jungwon. More than you know."

He took a step closer, his expression softening even more, "I'll miss you too," he admitted, his voice filled with an emotion you hadn't heard before, “More than I can say."

You stood there in silence, holding onto each other, trying to memorize every detail of this moment. Finally, he pulled away.

“Take care of yourself," He said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness.

"You too," You replied, your heart aching.

As he walked away, you felt a mix of sorrow and hope. Sorrow for the time you were losing, but hope that maybe, this wasn't the end.

You spent your days in the hospital feeling a void that couldn't be filled. Jungwon's absence was a constant ache in your heart. Every corner of the hospital reminded you of him, from the cafeteria where you'd share quiet thoughts to the garden where you'd steal moments of peace together.

Mia, ever observant, noticed the change in you almost immediately. One day, she approached you with a concerned look, "Hey, are you doing okay? You seem different lately."

You forced a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside, "I'm fine, Mia. I promised Jungwon I wouldn't change because he left."

Mia gave you a sympathetic look, "It's okay to feel a little sad, you know. It's only natural."

You sighed, feeling a weight lift slightly from your shoulders, "Yeah, you're right. I do miss him a lot."

Dr. Kim had also noticed the change in you. One afternoon, she called you into her office. You sat down, feeling a bit anxious as she looked at you with a serious expression.

"I've noticed a difference in you lately," She began, "I was hoping you didn't have romantic feelings for Jungwon, as that's not allowed."

Her words stung, and you felt a mix of anger and sadness, "Why would you say that? Jungwon is one of the kindest people I know."

Dr. Kim sighed, her expression softening slightly, "Jungwon is not in his right mind right now. It's important for you to focus on your own well-being. I also noticed Jungwon change when he was leaving. You must mean a lot to him, but like I said, that’s not allowed."

You felt a surge of frustration, “How can you say that? You don't know him like I do."

Dr. Kim looked at you, her eyes filled with concern, "You're right Y/n, I don’t. I'm just looking out for you. It's important to stay professional and keep your emotions in check. You’re not here to look for love.”

You left her office feeling even more conflicted. You missed Jungwon deeply, and now you had to navigate your emotions while trying to remain professional. But you knew one thing for sure—you wouldn't let anyone dictate how you felt about Jungwon.

The sleepless nights seemed endless. Each one was a reminder of how much you missed Jungwon. You'd lie awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying memories of him in your mind. The hospital felt colder and lonelier without his presence.

In an effort to cope, you started attending group therapy sessions. At first, it was difficult to open up, but over time, you found solace in the shared experiences of others. The group became a small beacon of hope, helping you feel a bit better day by day.

Despite the progress, the ache of missing Jungwon never fully went away. His absence was a constant shadow, but you learned to manage it better. The group sessions taught you valuable coping mechanisms, and slowly, you started to find small moments of peace.

Months passed, and you began to notice a change in yourself. The sleepless nights became less frequent, and you started to feel a sense of normalcy returning to your life. You still missed Jungwon deeply, but you were learning to live with that feeling.

Finally, the day came when you were getting discharged. It felt surreal to be leaving the hospital after so long. You packed your things, feeling a mix of emotions—relief, anxiety, and a lingering sadness. As you walked through the halls one last time, you couldn't help but think of Jungwon and all the moments you shared.

The day had finally arrived. After months of being in the mental hospital, you were getting discharged. You packed your belongings, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. As you walked through the familiar halls one last time, you made your way to Mia's room. Mia had become a close friend during your stay, and saying goodbye was bittersweet.

"Mia, I'm leaving today," You said softly, trying to hold back tears.

Mia smiled, though her eyes were watery, “I'm so happy for you. You've come so far. Promise me you'll take care of yourself out there."

You nodded, giving her a tight hug, "I promise. I'll miss you."

With a heavy heart, you left Mia's room and headed towards the exit. Just before you reached the door, you saw Dr. Kim approaching.

"Hello, Dr. Kim," you greeted her.

Dr. Kim smiled warmly, maintaining her professional demeanor, "I'm proud of you. You've made remarkable progress. Remember to take things one day at a time."

"Thank you, Dr. Kim. I couldn't have done it without your help," You replied sincerely.

Dr. Kim handed you a folded piece of paper, "This is for you. Open it when you have a moment."

Curious, you took the paper and nodded, "Thank you."

You walked out of the hospital and got into the cab waiting for you. As the cab started moving, you unfolded the paper. It was a letter. The handwriting was familiar, and your heart skipped a beat as you realized it was from Jungwon.

Dear Y/n, I'm so sorry I never had the courage to confess my feelings to you. I've loved you ever since we first spoke. I regret not telling you sooner. I hope you can forgive me. If you want to, visit me anytime at [hospital address]. I’m hoping you meant what you said you’ll never leave me.

Love, Jungwon.

Tears streamed down your face as you read the letter. The emotions were overwhelming. You had missed Jungwon deeply, and knowing he felt the same way brought both pain and relief. You clutched the letter to your chest, feeling a mix of sorrow and hope for the future.

As the cab drove on, you looked out the window, the world outside seemed a little brighter. A new sense suddenly came to you and that’s when you had an idea.

You told the cab driver to take you to the hospital where Jungwon was staying. The drive felt like an eternity, your mind racing with thoughts of what you would say and how he would react. You hadn't seen him in so long, and the anticipation was almost unbearable.

When the cab finally pulled up to the hospital, you paid the driver and stepped out, taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You walked through the sliding doors and approached the front desk, where a nurse was busy with paperwork.

"Excuse me," You said, trying to keep your voice steady, “I'm looking for Yang Jungwon. Is he still here?"

The nurse looked up and smiled kindly, "Yes, he is. He's in room 312. Just take the elevator to the third floor and turn left."

You thanked her and made your way to the elevator, your heart pounding in your chest. As the elevator doors closed, you took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. When the doors opened on the third floor, you followed the nurse's directions and walked down the hallway until you reached room 312.

You hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the door handle. Finally, you gathered your courage and pushed the door open. There he was, sitting up in bed, looking healthier than you had ever seen him. His skin had a healthy glow, and his eyes were brighter. He had changed so much in the months since you'd last seen him.

"Jungwon," You said softly.

He looked up, and for a moment, his cold exterior seemed to melt away, "You came," he said, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

Without thinking, you rushed forward and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly. He stiffened for a moment, then slowly relaxed, hugging you back just as tightly.

"I missed you so much," You whispered, tears streaming down your face.

"I missed you too," He replied, his voice cracking with emotion, "I'm so glad you're here."

You pulled back slightly, looking into his eyes, "How are you feeling?"

"Better," He said with a small smile, "A lot better, thanks to you."

You walked into Jungwon's room, immediately struck by how neat and orderly everything was. The room's cold, clinical atmosphere seemed to match his reputation. But you knew better; you knew that beneath that exterior was someone worth caring for.

You sat down on the edge of his bed, feeling the tension in the air, "How's everything been here?" you asked softly.

Jungwon looked at you, his eyes softening for a moment, "A lot better," he said, his voice tinged with relief.

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you, "I'm so glad to hear that. I was really worried about you."

He nodded, then his expression became more serious, "I'm relieved that you got discharged. I was worried too."

You reached out and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, "I hope you get discharged soon too. You deserve to be out of here."

Jungwon sighed, looking around the room, "No one has visited me. My sister is always so busy; she doesn't get the chance."

You felt a pang of sadness for him, "I'd like to meet her," You said, surprising even yourself with the sudden declaration.

He looked at you, confusion flickering in his eyes, "Why?" He asked, but he didn't press further.

"Where do you think she lives?" You asked, determined.

Jungwon gave you a small, grateful smile, "I think she lives in the city, not too far from here. [apartment adress]?"

You nodded, already planning your visit, "I'll go see her and tell her about you. She needs to know how you're doing."

For the first time in a long while, Jungwon looked genuinely relieved, "Thank you," He said softly, "That means a lot to me."

You spent the rest of the visit talking about his stay here and how much everything was different. You noticed how better he looked when he spoke about different things.

You stood by Jungwon's hospital bed, feeling a mix of emotions. It was time to say goodbye, but you promised yourself it wouldn't be for long, "I'll visit you again soon," You said, your voice filled with determination.

Jungwon looked at you, his usual stoic expression softening slightly, "I'll be waiting," He replied.

Gathering your courage, you leaned in and gave him a shy peck on the cheek. It was a small gesture, but it meant the world to you. Jungwon's lips curled into a small smile, a rare sight that warmed your heart.

You turned to leave, glancing back one last time before heading out of the room. As you walked down the hospital corridor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of urgency. You needed to see his sister and tell her everything.

The cab ride felt like an eternity, but finally, you reached the apartment building where Jungwon's sister lived. Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door. After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a woman who looked strikingly similar to Jungwon.

"Who are you?" She asked, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.

"I'm a friend of Jungwon's," You explained, "I met him at the hospital."

Her eyes widened slightly, and she stepped aside to let you in. You took a seat on the couch, feeling a bit nervous but determined to convey your message.

“Would you like anything to drink?” She asked, heading in the kitchen.”

“A glass of water is fine.” You replied. You heard turning on the sink as she hummed a tune before coming back in with a glass of water. She gave it to you and sat across from you.

"I wanted to talk to you about Jungwon," You began. "He's been really lonely at the hospital. He misses you a lot."

She looked down, her expression softening, "I know I've been busy, but I didn't realize how much it affected him."

You nodded, understanding the weight of her responsibilities, "He understands that you're busy, but he needs you. Even a short visit would mean so much to him."

She sighed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Thank you for telling me. I'll make time to visit him. He deserves that."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you, “I'm glad. He really needs his family right now."

She stared at the ground, “I know. Everything been going downhill for me lately that I forgot to visit. I-I feel so bad that I left my baby brother like that. I’m the reason why he’s in the hospital.”

As she sobbed, you noticed how she’s been probably keeping all of this in. They were both going through so much, and yet, no one was there to comfort them. As she wiped her tears away she took a deep breath.

“Jungwon was a good boy. He was never a bad kid. When my parents wouldn’t be there for him, I was. He relied on me so much that when I left for college, he cried so much. I knew that leaving him would be my worst mistake.” She began, “When I got to college, I was so focused on my studies I couldn’t call or visit. And then all of a sudden I hear about him being admitted to a hospital and his friend passing away I knew he was going through so much. And yet, I still didn’t see him. I felt guilt for leaving him that I thought he didn’t wanna see me.”

you nodded your head in understanding, “I know how you feel. I would’ve thought that too. But Jungwon really does miss you. I feel like talking to him first would tell you everything.”

She nodded and wiped her eyes, “I will. Thank you…um,”

“Y/n. Kim Y/n.” You said.

She gave you a smile and nodded, “Thank you, Y/n.”

As you left her apartment, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You had taken a step towards helping Jungwon reconnect with his sister. And as you hailed a cab to head back home, you couldn't wait to see the look on Jungwon's face when his sister finally visited him.

You arrived at your aunt's house, feeling a mix of exhaustion and anticipation. She welcomed you warmly, her embrace providing a sense of comfort you desperately needed, "How was your visit?" she asked, her eyes filled with concern.

"It went well," You replied, managing a small smile, "I need to unpack my things."

She nodded, understanding your need for some time alone. As you unpacked your clothing, your thoughts drifted back to Jungwon. You were determined to visit him again the next day, hoping to see some improvement in his spirits.

You finished unpacking and lay on your bed, soon your eyes began drifting in to slumberland.

The next morning, you made your way back to the hospital. As you approached Jungwon's room, you paused in the doorway, a smile spreading across your face. Jungwon and his sister were sitting together, deep in conversation. It was a sight that filled you with immense relief and happiness.

His sister noticed you first, giving you a warm smile as she stood up to leave. "Thank you," She whispered as she passed by, her eyes conveying her gratitude.

You walked over to Jungwon, who looked up at you with a faint smile, "How are you doing?" You asked, taking a seat beside his bed.

“I'm doing fine," He replied, his voice stronger than before. "Actually, I have some good news. I'm getting discharged soon."

Your heart leaped with joy, "That's amazing, Jungwon! I'm so happy for you."

He nodded, his eyes reflecting a sense of hope you hadn't seen before, "Thanks to you, I got to reconnect with my sister. It means a lot to me."

You felt a wave of emotion wash over you, "I’m just keeping my promise. You deserve to have your family around you."

Jungwon reached out and took your hand, squeezing it gently, "You did more than help. You gave me hope."

As you sat there, holding his hand, you realized that this was just the beginning with Jungwon. You knew you were gonna be with him every step of the way. And knowing that he would soon be out of the hospital filled you with a sense of optimism for the future.

After a few days of visiting Jungwon, the day finally arrived for him to be discharged. You could hardly contain your excitement as you made your way to the hospital for the last time. Jungwon's sister had given you her number, and you had arranged to meet them at their home to celebrate.

When you arrived at Jungwon's sister's house, you felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation. You knocked on the door, and it was quickly opened by Jungwon's sister, who greeted you with a warm smile, “Come in, come in," She said, stepping aside to let you in.

As you walked into the living room, you saw Jungwon sitting on the couch, looking much healthier and happier than the last time you saw him in the hospital. The moment he saw you, his face lit up with a big smile. You rushed over to him and hugged him tightly, feeling a sense of relief wash over you.

"I'm so glad you're finally home," You said, pulling back to look at him.

“Me too," Jungwon replied, his eyes shining with gratitude, "Thank you for everything."

The afternoon was spent in the best way possible. Jungwon's sister had prepared a delicious meal, and the three of you sat around the table, sharing stories and laughter. It felt like a family gathering, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for being included in such a special moment.

As the sun began to set, you found yourself feeling more and more at home. Jungwon's sister noticed your comfort and suggested, "Why don't you stay the night? We have a guest room, and it would be nice to have you here."

You hesitated for a moment but then nodded, realizing that you didn't want to leave just yet. "I'd love to," you replied, smiling. You sent your aunt a text to let her know.

The evening was spent watching movies and talking about everything and anything. Jungwon seemed more relaxed than you'd ever seen him, and you felt a deep sense of contentment just being there with him and his sister.

When it was finally time to go to bed, Jungwon walked you to the guest room, "Thank you for staying," He said softly, his eyes filled with warmth.

"Of course," You replied, giving him a hug, "I'm just glad you're okay."

Before he could go, you gently grab his wrist. You hesitated for a moment before speaking, "I was wondering if you could sleep with me tonight. I just... I don't want to be alone."

Jungwon's eyes softened, and he nodded, “Sure, I'll stay with you."

The two of you made your way to the guest bed, and as you settled into the bed, you felt a sense of comfort wash over you. Jungwon lay down beside you, and you turned to face him, feeling the warmth of his presence.

As you both lay there in the quiet, you decided to share something that had been on your mind, "I visited Mia today," You began, "She's getting discharged soon."

Jungwon smiled, "That's good to hear."

You looked into his eyes, searching for something, and then you asked, "Can I ask you something? I know you and Mia talked a few times, and I was just curious about what you talked about that one day. I-I’m sorry but I kind of eased drop.”

Jungwon sighed softly, his expression thoughtful, "Mia and I were talking because I told her that I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with a guy like me liking you."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt a mix of emotions, "Why would you think that?"

He looked at you with sincerity in his eyes, "I just didn't want to burden you or make you feel uncomfortable. I care about you a lot, and I didn't want my feelings to complicate things."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently, "Jungwon, you don't have to worry about that. I care about you too, more than you know. And I'm really glad you're here with me."

A soft smile spread across his face, and he leaned in closer, and kissed you. The kiss was soft and gentle. You softly sighed into the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck. He gripped your waist softly.

The kiss soon turned into a urgent one and before you knew it, he was above you kissing your neck. You softly moaned and gripped his hair making him let out a groan. He took his shirt off and bends down to kiss you again.

Slowly, you took off your shirt and shorts, leaving you in your undergarments, “Fuck,” Jungwon whispered. He kissed along you jaw and chest and was faced to face with your core. He kissed your cloth pussy softly making you gasp.

He slowly pulled your underwear down to reveal your soaking pussy. You whined when his hot tongue licked your folds, “You taste so sweet.” He teased. You couldn’t speak and continued letting out breathy moans feeling his tongue do magic.

You felt your orgasm coming and squirmed, “J-Jungwon- hic! I’m gonna cum!” You moaned. He sucked on your bud and that’s when your orgasm came over you. He didn’t stop licking and sucking on your pussy until you were clean.

He leaned up and took off his sweats and boxers revealing his dick. You bit your lip staring at the red tip with precum. He softly stroke it and aligned his dick in your entrance. Slowly, he finally pushed in making your breath get caught.

You held him tightly as he waited for you to get used to it before moving just a tad bit. You let out a choked cry feeling him push in deeper, “Your squeezing around me so tight.” He hissed.

You mewled in his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist. He took that as a sign to keep going and that’s when you felt a sting of pain and pleasure, “P-Please. Move.” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice and began moving at a normal pace. The sound of loud skin slapping and moans were heard in the room. You couldn’t hold in your noises and covered your mouth remembering his sister isn’t that far.

He chuckled and dipped down to give you a kiss on your temple before gong at faster pace making you let out a choked moan. You felt him in your stomach, feeling his mushroom tip hitting all the right spots. You knew you were gonna cum soon. You watched Jungwon let out breathy groans and sighs feeling you milk his dick. He could be in you forever.

You felt your orgasm coming and rubbed your bud in circular motions, “G-Gonna cum- ah!” You cried out before you were coming all over his dick. Jungwon snapped his hips a few more times before cumming inside you. He slowly pulled out of your now filled pussy and lay beside you, panting.

He slipped his arm around your waist and nuzzled his nose in your neck making you giggle. Jungwon stared at you with a look in his eyes, “I wouldn’t mind having a baby with you.” He suddenly said.

You stared at him back, “I mean, you did cum inside me.” It was silent for a few moments before you both burst out giggling.

“I love you, Jungwon.” You whispered. He hummed, his eyes slowly closing.

“I love you too.” He finally said. You felt a wave of happiness feeling your heartbeat quicken.

Eventually, you both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other's presence. It was a night that marked the beginning of something new, something beautiful, and you couldn't have been more grateful for it.

taglist: @laylasbunbunny @umsivsworld @woofie-nctzen-fanarts @yoongisbaguetteshoes @enhypenlovre @melancholy-z @minghaosimp @dudewhoism @honeychocos @hearts4hee @tlnyjoong @1013club @yagsoobin @mrsjohnnysuh @heekilrvs @enhasrii @prettygurlnikittie @jakeswifez @yunhoswrldddd @seokseokjinkim @whateverhoon @noturmommasstuff @love4hee @ddeonuu4me @selleprotection @jenn-ieverse @babyy-bambii @nikiswifiee @rjssierjrie

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

“Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HEAR ME OUT

“Don’t you think I’m scary?”

“Scary? My god you’re divine”

AHHHHH

FuskqosnisisbssbjHWISNSKSOAOAKWAJ 😭😭🤭🤭😋😋

I love two lovestruck idiots who don’t know they’re in love w each other and it’s grumpy German shepherd x golden retriever 😻😻

PLEAAASEE german shepherd x golden retriever is one of my faaavvv tropes OAT !! it’s so so adorable and especially with katsuki cus i know he just thinks he’s so scary ! i got a lil idea after the recent manga chap that just came out, so this might be a liiiiiittle super small spoiler but i think its so cute ! hope you enjoy anon tysm for the ask ! much luv xxx

fem reader, super duper minooor spoiler but katsuki has stitches !, mutual pining, idiots in love, soft katsu (cus he has to be but also cus he’s whipped) (but hes still a little piece of shit) reader is a lil sweetie, short lil fluffy fic, touchy katsuki bc i cannot help myself, lmk if i missed anything else !

before the war, bakugou had made a lot of new little habits.

he’s made it a habit of waiting for you to head out of class so you could walk together. he’s made it a habit of sharing just a portion of his lunch with you, because apparently he’s constantly been making too much, ignore the fact that he only let’s you have those ‘extra’s’ that doesn’t mean anything.

he’s made it a habit of carrying around an extra water bottle with him because you always forget to keep yourself hydrated after training, he’s also made it a habit to scold you for it endlessly. he’s ruthless even as you whine about how mean he is, saying that “he wouldn’t need to be on your ass so much if you just remembered to grab your damn bottle.” he ignores the fluffy feeling in his heart and tells you to shut up when you tell him that he always has your back anyway, swiftly looking away from you and cheeks turning red.

and since you're on the way to his house, he's made it a habit of walking you home. you call it hanging out after school, he calls it 'just making sure you don't get lost somehow..hah ?! don't ask me how ! your dumbass would probably find a way to !'

anyway, he's made it his mission to grace you with his presence every day after school. you always bid him a cheery goodbye, "see you tommorow !" you say, and he always looks forward to it, even when he turns away, nonchalantly throwing you a quick wave over his shoulder.

usually you wake up at completely different hours, so he doesn't pick you up the morning. you always wished you could see him first thing in the morning, but seeing him waiting by the school gate's was more than enough to make your heart soar, you were more than happy with that.

but today you can finally go back to school. after dealing with non stop fighting for what felt, and probably was, hours and hours on end during the events of the war. and being stuck in the hospital for a few weeks, it feels nice to wear your school uniform and feel somewhat normal again. you'd get to see all your friends again and you'd official be a second year. you smile softly to yourself in the mirror.

katsuki had sent you a text a few minutes ago. he'd asked if you were almost ready, and you'd responded that you were only for him to leave you on read. you didn't mind much and shrugged it off.

but today, when you walk out the door, you see katsuki waiting for you on the sidewalk.

you blink twice, eyes widening. katsuki turns and looks up from his phone screen at the sound of the door he also blinks, although he's more unbothered then you as he simply stands up, pushing himself off his knees with a groan "took you long enough." he drawls. his eyes are warm and his lip twitch just the slightest bit at your expression "thought you'd keep me waiting forever."

"katsuki !" you exclaim, eyes still wide "what're you doing here ?!" you quickly walk to him, standing close enough to see the marks on his face, and the unmistakable stitches on his cheek.

he raises a brow like you're crazy, tilting his head "m'walking you to school."

"bwuh-are you even allowed to go to school ?" you sputter, realising he had his school uniform on, you liked it when he started making it a habit of wearing his tie more often. katsuki grumbles at your worries "shouldn't you be in the hospital ?" he scoffs at your fretting, but his eyes soften as he leans in closer to you. you see his battle scars better that way. you gulp at the sudden proximity, he's never been shy about getting in people's faces, although it was never meant to be intimidating when he did it with you, if the pink tint of his cheeks meant anything.

"doc said it's fine as long as i keep quiet.." he scoffs after finishing the sentence, rolling his eyes and causing you to giggle. hearing the sound he hadn't heard in what felt like ages made him sniff in amusement. you reach for his hand then, and he doesn't take his eyes off you while intertwining his fingers with yours. both your eyes shining with longing and affection for the other. you smile brightly at him and even though the doctors had told him to be careful with his heart, it seemed you were gonna make that hard for him. it didn't matter though, he was always up for a challenge.

pulling him along, you decide to tease him "guess that means you're gonna have to be on your best behaviour today, huh ? so you can't go gettin' mad at kaminari for no reason !" you playfully scold.

he rolls his eyes at the mention of your friend, though he doesn't hold back his smirk, he's definitely more open then he was compared to when you'd first started school. thinking about how far you've come together makes you happy, but it also feels bittersweet. "dunce face s'the who keeps pissin' me off, not my fault he can't handle it." you snicker and he snorts in amusement, squeezing your hand and making butterflies squirm around in your stomach. you don't mention the tight grip he has on your hand, probably because you're gripping his just as tight with no intention of letting go anytime soon. you probably look like a couple to the people walking by, you realise. and the thought does not displease you at all, far from it. it makes you a little too happy.

"behave." you squeeze his hand.

"i do." he growls, squeezing back, "he keeps trying me." you respond with a snort. your eyes occasionally fly towards his face, to the stitches on it more specifically. he's caught you looking multiple times on the way to the bus stop, not like you were exactly being subtle. your stare makes him nervous and he decides to finally confront you about it when you get to the bus stop.

"spit it out." he says, hands clammy in your grip, he hopes and prays you don't notice because it's so unbearably embarrassing to have to admit he was worried about what you'd think about his new look. he'd been anxious on your doorstep but you didn't give him much of a reaction, too shocked to even see him at the time, but your constant shifty glances made all the anxiety crawl back up again. so he speaks, keeping these distracting and frankly irritating thoughts to himself just irritated him.

you blink, humming curiously. katsuki grumbles to himself, keeping his eyes from yours. "ya keep staring at me, so what's up ?"

"it's strange seeing you with stitches." you answer bluntly. usually, he likes how honest you are, but right now it does nothing but stress him out. "i heard you messed your face up pretty bad, but i'm glad it didn't leave too much of a nasty scar." you muse. katsuki hums but his eyebrows furrow as he catches your last words, he's a little pissed off that you'd heard about what happened during the war. he'd wanted you to know as little as possible to keep from worrying you, or at the very least he'd wanted to tell you himself. he'll make sure to thoroughly question his fuckass friends later. of course, it also could've been her.

"..how'd you-"

"your mom told me."

he grunts. of course, it was his mom.

that damn hag..

"of course." he mutters bitterly. you don't respond, and to him that's all the answer he needs. a pit settles in his stomach.

"yeah, it's weird, isn't it ?" he agrees bitterly, unconsciously tightnening his grip on your hand. "it looks kinda creepy, right ?"

"what do you mean ?" his jaw tightens " i mean..like, on my face..." he sputter and mutters to himself, unable to properly say what he wants. you understand him though and immediately you turn till your face to face with him. your expression determined as you grab his other hand, both of his scarred hands now in your grip. his eyes widen in shock, embarrassment creeping up on him.

"there's nothing wrong with your face, katsu." you reassure, you'd made it a habit of calling him all those stupidly endearing nicknames, and it doesn't help taming the blush on his face slowly bleeding onto his cheeks. he pouts, fixing his gaze onto you and towards the floor.

"but doesn't it look..i dunno," he mutters, suddenly feeling self conscious "scary ?"

"scary ?" you tilt your head, he squints and looks away.

"i guess." he grunts with a nod, trying to save face. obviously it doesn't work by the look on yours. you're always so bubbly and sweet, he hates seeing such a pained expression on your face. you tug at his arms to get him to look at you "scary ? there's nothing scary about you.." you say sweetly, shaking your head. "i personally think you look really cool.." you mutter. katsuki feels his face heat, but his heart soars nonetheless. his eyes have been stuck wide for a second.

cool.

you think he looks cool.

"i was just wondering if they hurt ?" he tilts his head back in thought at that. instictively running his tongue on the inside of his cheek.

"nah, just felt weird when they were numbing it. but i didn't feel a thing." he shrugs, he suddenly smirks, the stitches being pulled up by the movement "wanna touch em ?" he teases, pulling you closer by the grip he still has on your hands. your eyebrows shoot to your hairline and he barks out a laugh.

"i-i can't do that ! what if i touch them and they come loose or something !" katsuki rolls his eyes at your jittering, using the hand still in his grip to bring it near his cheek, you desperately pull back and his evil smirk widens.

"katsuki, no !" you protest. he cackles meanly.

"it's fine." he insists, your pointer finger grazes his cheek and you turn your head away.

"i don't wanna !" you shake your head, your shoulders shaking as you hold back a giggle.

"yn. you're fine." he insists. he'd made it a habit of calling you by your first name after you'd started hanging out more. you called most of your friends by their first names pretty quickly into the year, your cheeriness making it easy for you to get along with everyone but you always were a little on guard with katsuki at first. he'll never admit it, but he was a little jealous that you'd call everyone in your shared friend group by their first name except for him. the sweet bubbly tone in your voice when you called for sero or kirishima made a nasty feeling bubble up in the pits of his stomach he'd desperately tried to push away. until one day he'd snapped during your group outing at the mall (outing he was coerced into going to by kirishima after finding out you where going too)

he'd regretted how whiney and bitter he sounded at the time, but he thinks it was worth it every time you'd look at him and say his name so sweetly, definitely worth it, as embarrassing as it was. and he'd started calling you by your first name too shortly after. all your friends do, but it felt so, so different with him.

finally your fingers make contact with the staples on his cheek. you peek up to look at him then. you run your fingers across them ever so softly, making sure not to hurt him. katsuki slowly let's go of your hand. unmoving and unnervingly still as you take your time scanning his face.

"so ?" he raises a brow, smirk slowly melting into a softer smile as he sees you smile to yourself.

"it's..not bad.." you tentatively start, still too worried to move too suddenly. he hums playfully. "and you don't feel it at all ?" you ask

"at all." he softly shakes his head. you don't realise you've gotten closer to his face but he sure has, and you end up realizing a little too late, but neither of you move away. you try to, but katsuki pulls you back in before you can get far. "do i still look cool up close ?" he jests, but there's some seriousness and vulnerability in his gaze. you smile warmly.

"yup," you say softly, you hear katsuki inhale sharpy, eyes never leaving yours "definitely still the coolest. not scary at all" you giggle, he rolls his eyes but chuckles. before you can question your positition or move away (or closer) to him you see the bus arriving in the distance. he notices it too and you share a look before you take a step back, smiling shyly at the floor while he keeps his gaze on the bus on the way.

until—

"OW, fuck !!"

your eyes snap up to see katsuki holding his cheek in his hand, your heart hammers and your eyes widen. you're next to him in two steps. "what, what—why-what happened ??!" you stammer, your hands reaching up to grab ahold of his face though you stutter, maybe it was your fault ?!

until—katsuki bursts out laughing. mean, but undeniably cute watery cackles that have you furrowing your brows in confusion until your jaw drops in realization.

the. asshole.

"you're not funny !" you whine, pushing at his arm although pushing might be the overstatement of the century. it could be more comparable to a nudge because even though he is an asshole, you wouldn't want to hurt him. even if he deserves it, you're better than that. you'll just think about hurting him.

katsuk chuckles breathelessly, grabbing your arm while you walk closer and stretch your arm out to signal the bus to stop. "it was funny, admit it !"

"you suck. you're the worst." scanning your bus ticket and walking ahead ignoring him, katsuki quickly scans his ticket and follows diligently behind you.

"you thought it was hilarious." he smirks.

"the absolute worst, the lowest of the low." you huff, ignoring the persistant heat of his eyes on you. he only snickers.

"i see you laughing."

today, you arrive to school with katsuki not at the school gates waiting for you, but walking together with you to start your new school year as second years. and you both hope you can make a habit out of this.

[reilemon]

Beneath the Collar

♡︎ synopsis: What do you tell yourself when you develop a crush on a hot priest? 'It'll pass.' But what if it doesn't?

♡︎ pairing: priest!Zayne x fem!reader

♡︎ cw: personal sacrilege, mutual masturbation

♡︎ word count: 13k

♡︎ a/n: the fifth story for kinktober 2024. i know i wrote something else as a prompt for this story, but it kinda didn't fit into the vibe. I hope you'll still like it.

♡︎ Thanks to my dearest friend and beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

You’d been absentmindedly wiping down the counter, eyes flicking to the clock every couple of minutes. You were anticipating the weekend as if it was your lifeline. The shop was nearly empty, just a couple pastries left. You could already taste the freedom that awaited once you locked up. Saturday nights were your escape. You’d head out of town and finally let loose with your old friends. You couldn’t wait to slip into a tight dress, feel the beat of music thrumming through your veins, and drown the stress of your quiet life with a few too many drinks.

You loved the buzz, the way you could disappear into the crowd. It was so different from the slow, predictable pace of this town—so different from the way you had to be here, composed, calm, responsible. You could already imagine the way your friends would greet you with shrieks and hugs, the taste of sweet cocktails on your lips, the feel of someone’s hands on your waist as you danced the night away.

You hadn’t realized how tightly wound you’d become until you started thinking about it. The endless days of baking, of small talk with customers who didn’t really know you, of going home to an empty apartment. This wasn’t the life you’d imagined.

The chime above the door rings, pulling you back from your thoughts. You straighten instinctively, slipping back into your practiced routine, eyes flicking up with a tired smile ready—until you see him.

The man who steps in isn’t like any customer you’ve seen before. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark, understated clothes. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the stark white collar around his neck—the unmistakable sign of a priest. Yet you can’t help but stare at his features - his sharp jawline, the raven-black hair falling slightly across his forehead, and those intense green eyes. He looks cold, distant, his gaze hard and unreadable as it sweeps the room before landing squarely on you.

You can feel your heart pound as your breath catches. You aren’t supposed to feel this way. He’s a priest, for God’s sake. Yet here you are, rooted in place, unable to tear your eyes away from him. You shouldn’t be thinking about how strong his hands look, or how his lips might feel if they ever touched yours. Guilt twists in your gut, making you flush with shame.

You swallow hard, the professional smile faltering for a second as your thoughts race. What is a man like him doing here? He doesn’t look like the type to indulge in something sweet.

He steps forward, approaching the counter, and the closer he gets, the more you can feel your façade slipping. You force yourself to break eye contact, focusing instead on the pastries.

You need to say something, anything to break the tension. “Good evening,” you finally manage.

“I’m sorry for coming in so late,” he says, his voice deep and smooth, instantly making you feel butterflies. “I was hoping to grab something before you closed.”

You nod, trying to keep the conversation professional, though your mind is anything but. “Of course,” you reply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze again.

His eyes flick over the display case before returning to you, making your heart flutter. “Macarons,” he says after a moment. “Do you have any left?”

You blink, thrown off by the unexpected request, by how he knows exactly what he wants. “Ah—no,” you stammer, shaking your head. “Sorry, they sold out earlier today.”

He nods once, but doesn’t seem disappointed. You half-expect him to say something more, maybe ask about the next batch or try one of the remaining pastries. But he doesn’t. His eyes flick to the empty spot where the macarons should’ve been, then back to you.

"Thank you," He doesn’t smile, just offers a polite nod before he turns and walks toward the door. The air feels lighter the moment he steps out, but your heart is still racing, your mind still tangled in thoughts you shouldn’t have.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what just happened, your hand still resting on the counter as if anchoring you back to reality. Slowly, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

‘What the hell was that?’

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Later that evening, you stand in front of your mirror, smoothing your dress down over your hips, but your thoughts are miles away. You’ve been looking forward to this night all week— but now, you can’t stop thinking about him.

As you spray the perfume on your neck, your mind drifts back to the way those cold green eyes had fixed on you with such unnerving intensity. You replay the interaction over and over in your head as you fix your lipstick, each swipe of color across your lips bringing back the memory of his deep, steady voice.

You grab your heels and slide them on, trying to push the image of him away. It’s your night - you should be thinking about the friends you’ll be laughing with, the strangers you might flirt with, but your mind keeps drifting back to him. And that damn collar, the way it stood out against his sharp jaw, mocking you.

You sigh, frustrated with yourself as you grab your clutch and head for the door. Tonight is about fun, freedom. As you step outside, you convince yourself that by the end of the night you will forget all about him.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You stand just outside the church, a box of macarons clutched in your hands. The crisp autumn air hits your face, cooling the remnants of your hangover. You wince slightly as the last pulse of your headache throbs behind your eyes. But it’s nothing compared to the nervous energy swirling in your stomach. The night before is a blur of music, laughter, and drinks—too many drinks—and yet, through it all, he was still there. No matter how hard you tried your mind kept circling back to the priest.

You woke up early this morning, despite the dull ache in your head, the need to see him again pulling you out of bed far earlier than your body wanted. You spent more time than usual getting ready, trying to make yourself look presentable. Like you hadn’t spent half the night dancing under neon lights, sweat mingling with perfume. Like you were fresh and composed, not some hungover mess delivering macarons to a man who probably didn’t even remember you.

Now, as you stand outside the church, watching as the last of the congregation trickles out from Sunday mass, you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous. ‘What the hell am I doing?’ You glance down at the box in your hands. Last night, you’d come home and found the extra macarons sitting in your fridge—fresh, untouched. And somehow, in your alcohol-soaked brain, you’d convinced yourself that bringing them to him would make sense. That maybe, just maybe, seeing him again would clear your thoughts.

Inside, you hear the faint echoes of voices, the last goodbyes being exchanged. Your pulse quickens, the nerves settling in deeper now. ‘What if he thinks I’m crazy?’ You glance up at the church doors as they swing open again. More people spill out, some of them familiar faces, regulars from your shop. You offer a small, polite smile to those who glance your way, though the last thing you want is to be seen here, holding this box like some desperate girl with a crush.

The crowd thins, and finally, you see him. He steps out of the church, tall and composed, his dark coat catching the cool breeze as he exchanges polite nods and handshakes with the remaining parishioners. Your heart stutters in your chest when his eyes land on you, sharp and focused, just like yesterday. His gaze flickers with confusion as he approaches. The contrast between the two of you couldn’t be more stark. He’s the picture of calm and control, while you feel like a bundle of frayed nerves.

"Good morning," he greets, his voice low and even, though there’s a hint of curiosity in it. His eyes drop to the box in your hands, and then back up to meet your gaze. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

You force a small smile, suddenly feeling foolish again for showing up like this. "I, um..." You glance down at the box before awkwardly extending it toward him. "I brought these... for you. Macarons. I had some extras, and I thought..." Your voice trails off as you realize how ridiculous you sound.

He hesitates for a moment, clearly taken aback by the gesture, his brow furrowing slightly as he looks between you and the box. "That’s very kind of you," he says after a beat, his tone polite but still laced with confusion. He takes the box from you, his fingers brushing yours briefly, sending an unexpected jolt through you. "But I’m afraid I don’t understand. Why bring them here?"

You feel your face heat up, the embarrassment creeping in again as you try to explain. "I just... yesterday, you asked about the macarons. And I had some left at home, so I thought..." You trail off again, unsure how to finish without sounding completely absurd.

His eyes soften slightly, the confusion changing into something more like understanding. "I see," he says quietly. He looks down at the box in his hands, then back at you. "Thank you. This was... thoughtful."

There’s a long, awkward pause before you gather the nerve to ask, "Have you visited my shop before? I mean, you knew we sold macarons, but I don’t remember seeing you."

He glances away for a moment, then returns his gaze to you, his tone still measured and calm. "I have stopped by a few times, yes. But more often than not, my colleagues bring me your macarons. They speak highly of your pastries." His lips twitch slightly, not quite a smile, but the closest thing you’ve seen from him. "They’ve made sure I know where to find the best sweets in town."

You blink, processing that information. ‘So, he has been there.’ A strange mix of relief and disappointment washes over you—relief that he’s not a complete stranger to your shop, but disappointment that you missed those visits. Still, knowing he’s tasted your work fills you with a sense of pride.

"I see," you murmur, nodding. "I wasn’t sure, since... well, you don’t seem like the type to indulge in sweets."

He raises an eyebrow. "I do, on occasion," he says, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "Especially macarons."

Another silence falls between you. The cold morning air feels sharper now, the quiet around the church almost too loud as the last of the parishioners filter away, leaving just the two of you standing there.

You feel the urge to say something, anything. "I hope you enjoy them," you say quickly, nodding toward the box in his hands.

His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than feels comfortable. "I’m sure I will," he replies, his voice softer now, though his serious demeanor never wavers. "Thank you again. This was... unexpected."

You nod, unsure what else to say, and suddenly, the weight of what you’re doing—standing outside a church, hungover, giving a priest macarons—hits you all over again. You swallow hard, feeling the need to leave before you make things even more awkward.

"I should probably go," you blurt out, taking a small step back. "I didn’t mean to interrupt your morning."

He watches you, his gaze steady, and for a split second, you wonder if he’s going to say something to stop you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he simply nods. "Take care,"

You turn and start walking away, your heart pounding in your chest, the cool air biting at your skin. You feel a little silly, a little reckless, but something about the way he looked at you, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he accepted the macarons... it stays with you.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next Sunday arrives quicker than expected, and this time, you're determined to play it cool. You still went out the night before, but you kept it light—a couple of drinks, no wild partying. The ache behind your eyes this morning is faint, nothing like last week’s pounding. You’d woken up with enough time to fix your hair and choose an outfit that’s both casual and appropriate, though you spent longer than you’d like to admit deciding on it.

As you step inside the church, the scent of old wood and candles washes over you, calming your racing heart just a little. The crowd is larger than you expected—families, couples, elderly regulars. You quietly slip into a pew near the back, hoping to blend in.

You settle in, your eyes scanning the front of the church, seeking him out. There he is, standing at the altar in his robes, his presence as commanding as ever. He’s facing the congregation, his expression stoic, speaking in that calm, steady voice that fills the room with reverence. At first, he doesn’t notice you. He’s focused on his sermon, his attention on the crowd as he guides them through the service.

And then, as if he can sense you watching him, his gaze flickers toward the back of the church—and locks onto you.

For a moment, the rest of the congregation fades into the background. It’s just you and him, his eyes lingering on you longer than they should. There’s no surprise in his expression, but his gaze isn’t the distant, detached look you remember from before. Your breath catches, and for a second, you’re not sure what to do. You glance down at your hands, trying to steady yourself, but when you look back up, his eyes are still on you. He’s quick to recover, though, returning his focus to the sermon, but the brief connection leaves your pulse racing.

The rest of the mass is a blur. You try to listen, to follow along with the prayers, but all you can think about is the way he looked at you. The quiet intensity of his gaze, the way it felt like he was seeing more than just another face in the crowd.

As the mass ends and people begin to rise from their seats, you remain seated for a moment longer. You watch as the crowd shuffles toward the exit, murmuring quietly amongst themselves, offering their thanks and farewells. For a second, you think about slipping out quietly and disappearing before he notices you again. It would be the easiest thing to do—walk away, avoid any awkward conversations.

But just as you start to stand, your eyes find his across the room. He’s still speaking with a couple of elderly women near the front, but his gaze shifts—briefly, unmistakably—back to you. And there’s something in that moment that makes it impossible to leave. Before you know it, you’re moving toward him, your pulse quickening with each step.

You tell yourself it’s only polite to say hello, maybe thank him for the sermon. It’s what people do, right? But the truth is, you haven’t attended a church service in so long, you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to talk to a priest. What do people even say in these situations? Your mind races as you approach, trying to figure out what you’re supposed to say.

When you reach him, he finishes his conversation with the elderly women, offering them a polite nod before turning his attention to you. For a moment, you stand there, unsure of how to start, but before you can stumble over a greeting, he speaks first.

"Good to see you again," Zayne says, as he offers you a barely visible smile. It’s subtle, just a small upturn at the corner of his lips, but it’s enough to make your heart race. "I don’t recall seeing you here before last week."

You blink, feeling like you’re caught red handed. You fumble for a response, trying to sound as casual as possible.

"Oh, no, I—I haven’t been here before," you admit, glancing down at your hands before looking back up at him. "I mean, I used to go to church when I was younger, but... it’s been a while." You force a small smile. "I’ve been in this town for a few months now, but I guess I still feel kind of... new. I’m trying to, you know, be a part of the community."

It’s a half-truth, but close enough to reality.

Zayne listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he considers your words. "It’s understandable," he says after a moment, his voice softer now. "Moving to a new place can feel... isolating." His gaze lingers on you. "I’m glad you’re finding your place here."

You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest. "Yeah, I think I’m making some progress."

You’re unsure of what to say next, but Zayne is the one that speaks next. "Those macarons you brought last week," he begins. "There was one flavor I hadn’t tried before—rose, I believe?"

You hadn’t expected him to bring it up. "Oh, yeah," you say, a giddy smile creeping onto your lips. "I like to experiment with new flavors in my free time. I wasn’t sure if anyone would like that one."

He nods, with a faint smile. "It was... different. Unexpected, but in a good way."

Your smile widens at that, unable to contain the warmth blooming in your chest. You hadn’t realized how much his opinion would matter to you. "I’m always experimenting," you admit, feeling more at ease now. "Sometimes I stay up late trying out new combinations."

The air between you feels lighter, warmer. "I can tell you put a lot of effort into it."

The compliment catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to respond. But before you can say anything, Zayne shifts the conversation slightly. "We’re hosting a bake sale next week," he says, "It’s for a local charity. I was wondering if you’d have the time to volunteer."

Volunteer? At the church? You’ve never done anything like that before. But the idea of working with him, of contributing in some way—it tugs at you, and before you can think it through too much, you find yourself nodding.

"Yeah, I’d love to," you say quickly, the giddiness from earlier still bubbling beneath the surface. "I mean, I’m sure I could make time."

His gaze softens, and there’s that almost smile again. "Good," he says. "I think your talents would be appreciated."

You nod, feeling strangely content. Working with him, even if it’s just for something simple like a bake sale—seems like a small step forward, a way to stay close without pushing too far.

As the crowd continues to thin, you realize you’ve lingered long enough. You take a small step back, your heart still racing from the interaction. "I’ll see you next week, then," you say softly, offering him a final smile before turning to leave.

"Yes," he replies. "Next week."

You can feel his gaze on your back as you exit the church, the weight of it lingering long after you step outside into the cool autumn air. And though you try to tell yourself that it’s just a bake sale, just a way to be part of the community, you can’t shake the excitement simmering beneath the surface.

Next week couldn’t come soon enough.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The bake sale was a success. The air was filled with the scent of baked goods and laughter, but you hardly had time to enjoy it. Zayne, ever the center of attention, had been pulled away in a dozen directions the entire day. When you’d arrived early that morning, hands full of pastries and stomach full of butterflies, you barely got a chance to exchange more than a quick greeting.

He had smiled at you, brief but warm, though his attention was quickly snatched away by people needing his assistance, asking for advice, or organizing last-minute details. Of course, he handled everything with calm efficiency. You watched him navigate the chaos with admiration, though a part of you ached for more than those fleeting glances you stole throughout the day.

Now, as the sun begins to set and the crowd dissipates, everything is finally winding down. The tables have been mostly cleared, the leftover baked goods packed up, and most of the volunteers have either left or are chatting amongst themselves. You’re still tidying up, folding a tablecloth when you feel a presence beside you. Zayne.

"Need any help?" he asks.

You offer him a small smile, shaking your head. "I’ve got it," you say, too aware of how close he’s standing. "But thank you."

"You did a lot today," he says quietly. "The bake sale wouldn’t have been as successful without you."

The compliment, though simple, warms your chest, and you can’t help the slight flush that rises to your cheeks. "I’m just glad I could help," you reply, glancing at him, and there it is again—his gaze, lingering just a fraction too long.

"Will you be attending mass tomorrow?" he asks after a pause, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

For a moment, you’re not sure how to answer. Attending Sunday mass on a regular basis was not something you imagined for yourself when you moved here. But neither was the crush on a priest. You tilt your head slightly, offering a small smile. "I might," you say. "But... I’d be more than happy to help out around the church too. If you need extra hands for events or... anything else." The offer hangs in the air.

Zayne’s eyes hold yours for a moment longer, before he nods, his lips curving into that barely-there smile that always makes your heart race. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As you both finish the last of the cleanup, the weight of the day settles over you. The connection between you and Zayne feels more real.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

Days pass after the Sunday mass, and your mind is restless. You had hoped—foolishly—that this crush would fade. That the flutters in your stomach and the lingering heat in your chest, and somewhere else, would disappear. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s grown stronger. It’s more than just attraction now—it’s curiosity, fascination, a desire to know him beyond the surface.

You had gone to mass that Sunday, and the entire service, your eyes had found his. After the service, you exchanged pleasantries as usual, but there was something beneath the surface. The way he smiled at you, as if holding back. And then, before you left, he had handed you his phone, suggesting that you exchange numbers, “in case there’s any more help needed with events.”

It was a perfectly reasonable request, and yet, your hands had trembled slightly when you typed your number in. A simple exchange of phone numbers shouldn’t feel like this, but you couldn’t shake the thrill it gave you.

Now, days later, you’ve been staring at his name in your phone for what feels like hours. Your fingers hover over the screen, your mind spinning with a thousand excuses you could use to text him.

‘Just invite yourself over.’ Tell him you’ve been working on new desserts and want to share them. It’s innocent enough—after all, you’ve done it before, and he was more than happy to accept. Why should this time be any different?

You lean back, the phone still in your hand, your thoughts a tangled mess. ‘It’s not wrong to want to see him, is it?’ When you’d exchanged numbers, had there been something in the way his hand brushed yours? Something more than just casual contact?

Your thumb hovers over his name on your phone, heart pounding in your chest. ‘One message. That’s all. Just one message to bring him something.’ It’s innocent. Harmless.

You begin to type. “Hey, I’ve been experimenting with some new dessert recipes. Thought you might like to try them. Could I drop some by?”

Before you can second-guess yourself again, you hit send.

The message disappears, leaving you staring at the screen, your heart racing.

Your phone buzzes a minute later, and you can hardly breathe as you open the message.

“That sounds great. I’d love to try them.”

His reply is simple, casual, but the effect it has on you is anything but. You glance around your apartment, suddenly feeling the weight of what you’ve done. You’re going to see him again, and this time, the meeting will be more personal, more intimate. ‘Just you, him, and those damn desserts.’

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You close the shop with shaky hands, flipping the sign to "closed" and locking the door behind. You try to calm your nerves as you walk toward the church.

‘Why am I doing this?’ you ask yourself for the hundredth time. You always shared your new recipes with your two employees—they were your taste-testers, your go-to feedback. So why now? Why are you heading to a priest, of all people?

‘He’s the customer experience,’ you remind yourself, a weak excuse at best. However, if anyone could give an honest opinion, it would be him—level-headed, composed, with that quiet seriousness that always unnerves and excites you. It’s just an opinion, nothing more. You repeat it like a mantra as you approach the church.

The doors creak open as you step inside, the familiar scent of incense filling your senses. The church is mostly empty, the soft glow of evening light filtering through the stained-glass windows. As you enter, you spot Zayne standing outside the confessional. He’s speaking quietly with an older woman, but his eyes flick up as soon as you walk in. The moment he sees you, his expression changes for a split second, barely noticeable, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

The woman finishes her conversation, offering him a polite smile before heading toward the door. Zayne watches her go, and when she’s gone, he turns his full attention to you.

His lips curve into a subtle smile. "Good evening," he greets you with that calm authority that always makes you feel both at ease and strangely vulnerable at the same time. "Thank you for coming. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble."

You shake your head, trying to keep your voice steady as you return his smile. "No trouble at all. I just closed up the shop, so... it worked out."

He nods, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before gesturing toward the back of the church. "Shall we?" He leads you down the quiet hallway, until you reach his office—a small, private room tucked away from the rest of the church. The walls are lined with bookshelves, a modest desk in the middle, and a soft lamp casting a warm glow. Zayne closes the door behind you, and for a second, the air between you feels thicker than it had before.

You sit across from each other at the small desk. You set the box between you, showing a display of your latest creations. Zayne’s intense green eyes take in the array of sweets.

"These look incredible," he says as he leans in. He reaches for one, pausing as if to savor the moment. "Shall we start?"

You nod, your voice wavering as you describe the little creation.

As he finishes the first dessert, followed by more praise, his eyes drift over the others in the box. His eyes linger on a small orange-tinted one. His brow furrows slightly, and he glances up at you. "Is that… carrot?" he asks, with reluctance in his tone.

You laugh softly, "Yes, it’s a mini carrot cake," you say, your voice light and teasing. "I’ve been thinking about adding it to the menu."

Zayne’s smile tightens just a little. His fingers hover near the pastry, but he doesn’t reach for it. "Carrot cake... that’s..." He trails off, clearly searching for the right words, though his discomfort is obvious. "I’m sure it’s delicious," he adds, his tone strained with effort.

You can’t help but chuckle softly at his expression, the idea of Zayne being uncomfortable with something as simple as a carrot cake is both endearing and amusing. "You don’t like carrots, do you?" you ask, raising an eyebrow at him with a grin.

Zayne shifts slightly, his ears tinged with a faint blush as he gives a sheepish smile. "I’ve never been... fond of them," he admits.

You laugh again. "That’s completely fine," you say, shaking your head. "You don’t have to try it if you don’t want to. I won’t be offended."

Relief washes over his face, and you can’t help but find it charming. "Thank you," he says with a smile, his voice more relaxed now. "I’m sure it’s wonderful. Just... not for me."

You nod, smiling back at him as you make a mental note not to add the carrot cake to the menu after all. Who would have thought Zayne, of all people, would have such a small but specific dislike?

As you both settle into a comfortable rhythm of tasting the remaining pastries, the earlier tension eases, replaced by the easy conversation and laughter that flows between you. There’s something natural, almost soothing, about this—sharing these quiet moments, watching his reactions as he tries each new flavor, the occasional teasing smile crossing his lips.

You hesitate for a moment, then decide to push the boundary just a little. “I won’t ask what made you become a priest at such a young age,” you begin, offering a shy smile to lighten the weight of your words. “But I have to admit... I do wonder what you do when you’re not here. What’s Zayne like when he’s not... well, Father Zayne?”

Zayne’s lips twitch slightly at the question, as though he’s surprised but also amused by your boldness. He leans back in his chair, his posture relaxing a bit.

“Well,” he begins, a faint chuckle escaping his lips, “I don’t have much free time, to be honest. Between the church, the community events, and my other responsibilities, it’s hard to find a moment just for myself.”

He pauses, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But when I do get some time, I like to read. Mostly fiction—novels, stories that take me somewhere else for a little while.” His voice softens with a hint of something like nostalgia. “I also try to visit new restaurants when I can. There aren’t many options in this town, so sometimes I take trips to the city just to try something different.”

There’s something so relaxed, almost vulnerable, in the way he talks about it that makes you feel like you’re seeing a side of him that few people do. A side that isn’t weighed down by the responsibilities of his role, but is simply... Zayne.

He shifts the conversation, leaning forward slightly as he looks at you. “What about you?” he asks, his voice warm with genuine curiosity. “When you’re not experimenting with food, what do you do in your free time?”

“Well,” you begin, shifting in your seat, “when I do take a break, I like to drive out of town, too. I’d meet up with old friends, go out for a drink or two... but honestly, I like the quiet here. It’s different. Calming, in a way.”

Zayne nods, his expression thoughtful. “I can see that. There’s something peaceful about being here, away from the noise. But I imagine it must get lonely sometimes.”

His words strike a chord in you, and for a moment, you feel a vulnerability creeping in. You hadn’t expected him to understand, but somehow, he does.

“Yeah,” you say softly, almost to yourself. “It does.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, you feel like you’re seeing him in a new light— as someone who, like you, is navigating his own struggles, his own desires.

The rest of the evening continues with light topics and soft laughter. But as you glance out the window you see it’s pitch-black outside. You glance at your watch, feeling a pang of reluctance as you realize it’s time to go.

“I should probably head out,” you say softly, not wanting to break the moment but knowing it has to end.

Zayne nods, though there’s a hint of something in his eyes that shows he feels the same reluctance. He stands, walking you to the door of his office. “Thank you for the desserts,” he says, his voice feeling more personal now. “And for the conversation.”

You smile. “Thank you for listening. And for the... honesty.” There’s a moment of hesitation before you step toward the door, the space between you suddenly feeling too close. He opens the door, and as you step out into the quiet hall, you glance back at him one last time.

His eyes linger on you. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice low, and for a second, it feels like there’s more he wants to say, but the moment passes.

“Goodnight,” you reply, turning to leave, your heart still racing from the quiet intimacy of the evening.

As you walk out into the cool night air, you can’t help but feel that this connection—whatever it is between you and Zayne—has deepened. And as you head home, your thoughts linger on him, wondering where this path will lead.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next day, your phone buzzes. You glance at the screen, and your heart skips a beat. It’s a message from Zayne.

“The desserts were incredible,” it reads. “You have a real gift for combining flavors. Thank you again.”

You smile, rereading the message a few times before typing out a casual reply. His words, the thoughtfulness behind them, mean more than they should. You tell yourself it’s just feedback—he’s just being kind, just acknowledging your work—but the fact that he took the effort to write this message... it lingers in your mind.

Days pass, and the messages continue. They’re not frequent, but every other day, you’ll receive something from him—a thoughtful comment on one of your desserts or a small exchange that feels more personal than before.

One evening, your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a picture—a grainy snapshot of a small, scruffy-looking cat sitting outside the church doors.

“This little guy hangs around the church sometimes. I think he’s starting to expect me to feed him,” the message reads.

You can’t help but laugh softly to yourself as you look at the picture. You quickly type out a response: “He’s adorable! Have you tried petting him yet?”

A minute later, Zayne replies: “I’ve tried. He runs away every time I get close.”

You smile to yourself, finding the image of Zayne—a man so composed, so in control—being outwitted by a stray cat endearing. You imagine him, kneeling down, trying to coax the little creature closer, only for it to scurry away. There’s something so human about it, so... normal.

“That’s adorable,” you reply, the smile still on your face. “Keep feeding him, and he’ll come around eventually.”

The conversation carries on like that—simple, easy exchanges that make you feel more connected to him in ways you hadn’t expected. But with every message, every small insight into Zayne’s life outside of his role as a priest, the ache in your chest grows. The attraction you’d hoped would fade has only grown stronger, and now it’s not just about the way he looks or the way his voice makes your heart race. It’s about him—his quiet strength, his thoughtfulness, the way he seems to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders but still finds time to send you a picture of a stray cat.

You know you shouldn’t feel this way. He’s a priest, and you’re well aware of the boundaries that are supposed to exist between you. You’ve tried telling yourself that it’s just a crush, something that will pass.

But it hasn’t.

Late at night, you lie in bed, staring at your phone, your thumb hovering over the screen as you reread his latest message for the hundredth time. You feel a warmth spread through your chest, a soft ache blooming alongside it—a gnawing longing.

Your set the phone beside you as you exhale, closing your eyes. The ache doesn’t go away. The thought of him consumes you. Every night, it’s the same. You tell yourself not to think about him, not to let your mind wander to those places where it’s dangerous to go, but you’re powerless to stop it.

You imagine his hands—strong yet gentle—the way they would feel against your skin. You think about his lips, how they’d taste, how they’d move against yours, how they’d trail lower. Your body heats at the thought and before you can stop yourself, your hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties. The room feels too quiet, too still, as your breath quickens, and all you can think of is him.

Every night, you touch yourself to the thought of him. It’s become your secret ritual, a way to chase the frustration and desire that builds up inside you. You picture the way his body would feel pressed against yours, the way his breath would hitch as he gives in, as the control he fights so hard to maintain finally snaps. You can almost hear his voice—low, rough with need—as he murmurs your name, telling you how much he’s wanted you, how long he’s been fighting it.

Your fingers move faster. And just as you reach the edge, teetering on the brink of release, you whisper his name into the darkness, your voice barely audible.

When it’s over, you lie there, breathless, your heart pounding in the silence of your room. The guilt creeps in, just like every night.

During the day, at the shop, you go through the motions—serving customers, smiling, chatting. But your mind drifts back to him, and you wonder –

‘Does he ever think about me like that?’

You think of him during the slow afternoons at the shop, when the world feels like it’s moving on without you. You wonder what he’s doing, if you cross his mind in those rare moments when he’s alone. Or if you’re just another parishioner to him, someone he texts about cats and pastries and nothing more.

The next time your phone buzzes, and you see Zayne’s name light up the screen, your heart skips a beat, followed by that all-too-familiar flutter in your belly. He’s sent another picture of the cat, this time with a playful caption:

“Still no luck with petting him. I think he likes to torment me.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. Warmth spreads through your chest, but the ache follows closely behind.

You type out a response, light-hearted to match his tone. “Maybe he’s playing hard to get. He knows you’ll keep trying.”

The response comes seconds later, “You’re probably right. I’ll keep trying. Maybe one day he’ll trust me.”

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next Sunday mass comes, and you sit quietly in the back, as you’ve grown accustomed to. Zayne stands at the altar, delivering his sermon with the same calm and captivating demeanor. The words, though meaningful, drift over you like a gentle breeze—comforting, yet distant. You can’t help but let your mind wander, your gaze occasionally flitting up to meet his. Each time your eyes find his, there’s a momentary spark, a flicker of something that passes between you.

At first, it’s subtle—a glance, nothing more. But as the moments pass, the weight of his attention seems to grow heavier. His gaze lingers on you for just a heartbeat longer than it should. The words coming from his mouth slow for the briefest second, just enough to notice, before he corrects himself and continues. But the flicker is there, a momentary lapse in the composed, unwavering Father Zayne.

You feel a rush of heat rise in your chest. ‘Is he losing focus because of me?’ The thought sends a thrill through you, though you immediately try to brush it off as wishful thinking. But then, it happens again.

Zayne’s sermon flows smoothly as usual, but this time, when his eyes find yours again, there’s a subtle shift in his expression. His voice falters, just slightly, as if he’s momentarily forgotten his place. He pauses, clearing his throat, his gaze quickly flicking away. You feel your heart pound in your chest, and you know he felt it too—his usual calm shaken, if only for a moment.

It doesn’t go unnoticed. A pair of elderly women seated a few pews ahead of you exchange a glance, their heads turning slightly as if they’re trying to figure out what—or who—might have caused the good Father to stumble. They lean toward each other, whispering quietly, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, a mixture of excitement and guilt flooding through you.

Zayne continues, his voice steady once more, but you can see the subtle tension in his posture now—the way his hands grip the edges of the lectern just a little tighter, the slight crease between his brows as if he’s fighting to regain control. You try to focus on the sermon again, to pull yourself out of this strange, charged moment, but it’s impossible.

When the service ends, and the last of the parishioners trickle out, you step forward, your heart still pounding in your chest. Zayne looks up, and you can tell he’s still unsettled from earlier.

But he smiles. "Good morning," he says, his voice quieter now. "I—uh, hope you enjoyed the service."

You nod, offering him a small smile in return. "I did. Though, I have to admit... I still don’t understand most of it."

Zayne chuckles, "As long as you’re here, that’s what matters," he replies, and for a moment it seems as if there’s more he wants to say but can’t quite find the words.

Before either of you can speak again, you glance toward the doors and realize that, during the service, the skies outside have opened up. Rain pours down, tapping against the windows with a steady rhythm. You curse softly under your breath, realizing you hadn’t brought an umbrella.

"Looks like I’m stuck for a while," you murmur, half to yourself, half to Zayne.

He follows your gaze, then turns back to you with a thoughtful expression. "You don’t have an umbrella?" he asks.

You shake your head, feeling a bit foolish. "No, I didn’t think it would rain today."

Zayne pauses for a moment, as if thinking about something, before he speaks again. "I could walk you home," he offers. "I have an umbrella, and I need to head out anyway. We could talk about the next bake sale on the way."

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of walking alone with him.

"Are you sure?" you ask, though you already know what his answer will be.

Zayne nods, that soft smile returning to his lips. "Of course. It’s no trouble."

And just like that, the decision is made. You follow him to the coat rack near the entrance, where he retrieves a large, dark umbrella. He opens it with a swift motion, then gestures for you to step under it with him. As you do, the two of you step out into the rain, the world around you suddenly feeling smaller.

You walk side by side, the umbrella barely covering both of you, forcing your bodies to press close together. His arm brushes against yours every few steps, the warmth of his presence almost too much, making it difficult to focus on what he’s saying. The scent of rain mingles with the faint hint of his cologne, and it makes your head dizzy.

At one point, your eyes meet again, and for a split second, Zayne’s step falters, just slightly. His words stumble as he’s explaining something about the church’s plans for the sale. He catches himself quickly, but when you glance up at him, there’s a flush of color in his cheeks. And in that moment, you wonder – ‘Is he affected by this as well?’

As you walk, the rain begins to lighten, turning into a soft drizzle, but neither of you rush to part ways. The conversation continues, easy and unhurried, and for a moment, you forget about everything else—the church, the responsibilities, the complicated emotions swirling between you. It’s just the two of you, walking in the rain.

When you finally reach your street, Zayne stops in front of your building.

"Thank you," you say with a smile.

Zayne smiles, that familiar softness in his eyes again. "It was my pleasure."

There’s a brief pause, and for a moment, it feels like something hangs in the air between you. But before either of you can break the silence, Zayne steps back, offering a small nod.

"I’ll see you soon," he says, his voice quiet.

You nod, watching as he turns and walks away. As you head inside, you can’t shake the feeling that the space between you and Zayne is growing smaller with every encounter. You wonder if the boundary between friendship and something more is becoming increasingly blurred.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next day, you couldn’t stop replaying it all in your head. The way he had looked at you, the subtle hesitations in his words, the fleeting touches. You found yourself waiting for a message from him, hoping for a hint that he felt something.

But the message never came.

You tried to brush it off at first. ‘He’s busy.’ The church had its demands, and the bake sale was coming up soon. He probably had a hundred things to take care of. But as the days passed, the silence grew heavier. Each time your phone buzzed, you found yourself hoping it was him, only to feel that familiar stab of disappointment when it wasn’t.

When you finally couldn’t stand the silence any longer, you sent him a message, keeping it casual. You told yourself that it wasn’t a big deal, that he’d reply, and everything would be fine. But when his response came, it was short, almost curt.

Your stomach sank as you stared at the screen. You told yourself you were imagining things, that maybe he was just having an off day. But the pattern repeated itself. Another message from you, another short, impersonal reply from him. It was as if a wall had gone up between you, growing taller with every passing day.

And then there was the shop. Zayne had always made a point of visiting at least once a week, stopping by for a quick chat and dessert. But that week, he didn’t come. Each day, you glanced toward the door, half-expecting to see him walk through it with that quiet smile, but the door never opened for him.

The absence weighted on your mind, leaving you questioning everything. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ you wondered, replaying your last conversations over and over in your head.

You tried to focus on work, on the bake sale preparations, but your mind kept drifting back to him. You thought about sending another message, something more direct. But each time, you hesitated. ‘What if he’s distancing himself on purpose?’ The thought left a hollow feeling in your chest.

By the time the weekend approached, the doubt and confusion had hardened into something else—hurt. You couldn’t understand why he had gone so cold, why the easy warmth between you had turned into this frigid distance.

And as you stood behind the counter of your shop, watching the door and waiting for a familiar face that never came, you realized something. ‘He’s avoiding me.’

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

The next Saturday, the church is buzzing with activity. Tables are set up along the hall, covered in pastries, cakes, and breads that you had carefully crafted over the week. The sight of them should be enough to fill Zayne with excitement. He usually enjoyed events like these. Always eager to chat with volunteers, admire the work of the community, and, if he was honest with himself, look forward to seeing you.

But today, as he scans the room, his gaze lingers on the table where your pastries sit, beautifully arranged and ready to be sold. He can feel a flutter of anticipation. ‘She’ll be here.’ he thinks to himself, hoping to see you among the busy volunteers. You hadn’t come to last Sunday’s mass, and even though he had tried to keep his distance, part of him had been looking forward to seeing you today. He hadn’t realized how much he missed your presence until you weren’t there.

But as the minutes tick by, his eyes sweep over the table again, and something unsettling clicks into place. You’re not here. Instead, your two employees are standing behind the table, chatting with customers, offering samples and smiling as they go about their work. The sight of them, rather than you, feels like a punch to the gut.

Zayne takes a deep breath, as he walks over to the table. He exchanges polite greetings with your employees, but his mind is racing. ‘Why didn’t she come?’ He expected you to be here, after all the work you had put into the preparations. He glances around the room again, hoping maybe you’re somewhere else, mingling with the other volunteers. But you’re nowhere to be seen.

The knot in his chest tightens. For the first time in days, the weight of his own silence, his distance, hits him with full force. ‘She didn’t come because of me.’ His guilt, which he had been trying to push down, now rises to the surface. This time, for a different reason. He remembers the unanswered messages, the short replies, the way he had deliberately pulled away, thinking it was the right thing to do.

He moves through the rest of the bake sale with that guilt gnawing at him. Every time he passes your table, he feels the weight of your absence, the emptiness it leaves behind. And though he tries to focus on the event, shaking hands and exchanging small talk with parishioners, his mind is elsewhere—on you, and how he pushed you away with his silence.

As the crowd thins and things begin to slow down, he can’t resist any longer. He approaches your employees again, keeping his tone casual.

“She did an incredible job with everything,” Zayne says, offering a small smile as he glances over the leftover pastries. “I was hoping to thank her in person, though. Is she around?”

One of your employees, a young woman with a friendly smile, looks up at him. “Oh, she’s not here,” she says. “She’s actually out of town right now. I think she’s with her friends for the weekend.”

Zayne’s chest tightens. ‘Out of town?’ ‘With friends?’ The information feels like another blow. He hides his reaction, nodding politely.

“Ah, I see. Thank you both for participating,” he says, his voice a little more strained than he intends.

As he walks away from the table, the guilt intensifies. The thought of you spending the weekend elsewhere, with your friends, leaving the bake sale in the hands of someone else, feels like a quiet rejection. ‘She didn’t want to see me.’ The guilt twists in his chest, tighter and heavier than before.

⋆꙳❅*°⋆❆.ೃ࿔*:･*❆ ₊⋆

You stood in your kitchen for a few minutes, debating what to do. You weren’t planning on attending tomorrow’s Sunday mass—again. The thought of sitting there, with Zayne at the altar, pretending everything was normal, made your stomach twist. But the tablecloths. They needed to be returned, and the idea of just dropping them off quickly, quietly, without having to see anyone—without having to see him—seemed like the easiest solution.

You didn’t expect the rain. The sky had been calm when you left, but halfway to the church, the clouds burst open. Within seconds, the rain comes down in torrents, soaking through your clothes as you clutch the tablecloths tighter, your feet pounding against the wet pavement.

By the time you reach the church, you're drenched, the fabric in your arms heavy and useless. Gasping for breath, you push open the door. Your shoes squeak on the stone floor as you step inside, water dripping from your clothes and pooling beneath you. You wipe a hand over your face, trying to gather yourself.

"Hey," a voice calls from deeper within the church.

Your heart skips a beat. You recognize that voice immediately. Of course, it had to be him.

You’re standing there, dripping wet, trying to catch your breath and your bearings when Zayne steps closer, his eyes scanning over your soaked clothes. There’s a flash of concern in his expression, though he quickly tries to mask it with something lighter, a smile playing on his lips.

"You really don’t like carrying an umbrella with you, do you?" he teases softly, trying to ease the tension, and it works—just for a moment. You chuckle, shaking your head.

"I guess not," you manage to say, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your shivering.

His smile fades slightly as he takes in the sight of you, soaked and visibly trembling. “You’re freezing,” he says, his voice gentler now, more serious. “Why don’t you come to the rectory? You can dry off and change into something warm.”

The idea of going to the rectory, the space where Zayne lives, feels like crossing a line, a line you’ve been tiptoeing around for weeks. You shake your head, stepping back slightly. “I’ll just call a cab. I’m just here to return these,” you say quickly, you murmur, gesturing to the tablecloths. "I don’t want to intrude."

But Zayne steps forward, his brow furrowed as he looks you over. "You’re not intruding." he says, his voice more insistent now. "You’ll get sick if you walk back out like this. Please, just let me help."

You look up at him, the concern in his eyes stirring something deep inside you, something you’ve been trying to suppress. The rain outside is relentless, and despite your instinct to retreat, you find yourself nodding. "Okay," you whisper.

Relief flashes in Zayne’s eyes, and he nods, stepping aside to lead the way. "Good. Follow me."

Zayne leads you into the rectory, the warmth of his home. He guides you toward a small bathroom. “Take a hot shower,” he says, “I’ll put your clothes in the dryer, and I’ll leave some of my pajamas for you to change into.”

You nod, stepping inside the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

As the hot water runs over your skin, you feel the tension in your body begin to ease, the heat chasing away the lingering chill. You try to focus on the steam rising around you, on anything but the fact that you’re in his home, about to wear his clothes.

When you finally step out of the shower, you glance at the folded set of Zayne’s pajamas waiting for you on the bathroom counter. You slip into them, the soft material comforting against your skin, and can’t help but take in the smell of his fabric softener – fresh, floral scent. As you step out the bathroom, suddenly you’re self-conscious, aware of the fact that you’re not wearing a bra. The loose fabric brushes against your skin with every movement.

You walk timidly toward the living room, your heart pounding in your chest. As you step into the room, you find Zayne waiting for you, seated on the far end of the sofa. He’s placed two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits on the coffee table. The room feels intimate, almost too intimate, with just the two of you here, the rain still tapping against the windows outside.

Zayne looks up as you enter, and for a moment, his breath seems to catch in his throat. His eyes widen slightly, and a blush creeps up his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you in his clothes, fresh from the shower. He clears his throat, his gaze quickly dropping to the tea in front of him, but the redness on his face betrays him.

You feel your own cheeks burn in response, suddenly hyper-aware of the way the loose fabric hangs on you. You move quickly to the far end of the sofa, sitting down with careful distance between the two of you.

"Thank you... for the shower," you say. "And for letting me stay while my clothes dry."

Zayne glances at you, his eyes flickering briefly over you again before he focuses on his hands resting in his lap. "Of course," he murmurs, his voice a little strained.

You give him a small smile, wrapping your hands around the warm mug of tea, grateful for something to do with your hands.

Zayne speaks first, before the uncomfortable silence could stretch, “I heard you were out of town,” he says, his voice soft but probing. “What are you doing here?”

His question catches you off guard. You hadn’t expected him to bring it up so directly.

“I was supposed to be,” you say quietly, your fingers tightening around the cup of tea, the warmth barely grounding you. “But... the friend I was supposed to go out with caught a cold. She cancelled last minute.”

The explanation hangs between you, and even though it’s true, it feels flimsy. You look down, staring into your cup. ‘I shouldn’t have come here.’

Zayne’s gaze remains fixed on you, as if he’s waiting for something more. Then, he continues. “And the bake sale?” he asks, “You didn’t come.”

The question lands like a blow. You know why, of course. Your throat tightens as you try to form a response.

“I—uh, I got caught up,” you say, your voice faltering.

You know how weak that lie sounds. But he doesn’t push.  Instead his gaze softens as he looks at you. "I’m glad you’re here now," he says quietly.

You stare at him for a moment, his words sinking in, and a small, ironic chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "I find that hard to believe,"

Zayne looks at you, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, his brow furrowing slightly as he waits for you to elaborate.

"I thought..." you begin, but then pause, biting your lip as you glance away, trying to gather your thoughts. "I thought you didn’t want me around."

The room falls into an uncomfortable silence.

Your eyes find his and the vulnerability in them makes your chest tighten.

"I’m sorry," he says softly. "For keeping my distance. For... pulling away."

The apology lingers between you, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. You can feel the weight of his words, the sincerity behind them, but also the pain. He’s struggling—just as much as you are, maybe more.

"I thought..." he starts, his voice faltering for a second. He pauses, his hand moving to the white collar at his throat. "I thought keeping my distance would help, that it would protect both of us. But it only made things worse."

You swallow hard as you watch him. His fingers linger on the collar for a moment longer before he drops his hand, his eyes filled with a quiet regret. He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I started hearing things. Rumors. People talking about... us." The words make your heart skip a beat. "It was like a wake-up call, a hard one." His fingers brush the collar again, this time more deliberately. "That I’m a priest. And I took vows. Vows I can’t break."

You want to say something, anything, to ease the guilt you see in his eyes, but before you can, he continues, his voice even softer now. "But no matter how much distance I try to put between us, you’re always on my mind." He looks away for a second. "Everywhere I go, everything I do... I can’t stop thinking about you."

You don’t know what to say, what to do. Zayne’s vulnerability, his confession of how deeply you’ve affected him, makes the tension between you almost unbearable.

His eyes meet yours again. "You’re everywhere," he whispers, his voice almost breaking. "And I don’t know what to do about it."

Zayne’s words linger in the air, pulling at your heartstrings. You want to say something, to ease the pain, and you don’t know if you can. Not when you’ve been feeling the same way.

"Zayne..." you say softly, "I don’t want to be the reason you’re struggling," Zayne’s gaze drops to the floor, shoulders tense. Seeing him like this makes your chest tighten, but you can’t stop now. There’s too much unsaid.

"But I can’t stop thinking about you either," you confess, your voice trembling slightly. The words make you feel exposed, but it’s the truth you’ve been holding in for so long. "You’re in my thoughts all the time. It’s like... no matter where I am, no matter what I’m doing, I just want to be near you."

Zayne looks back at you, and you fight every fiber in your body to close the distance between you.

"I care about you, Zayne," you whisper. "And I hate seeing you like this. But I can’t pretend that what I feel isn’t real."

He’s quiet, his breathing shallow as he processes your words. Neither of you has the answers, but in this moment, it’s enough to know that you’re not alone.

"I’ve tried to ignore it," you continue, your voice shaky but honest. "I’ve tried to stay away, to give you space, but..." You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to say what’s been burning inside you for so long. "It’s not just the little things. It’s all of it. The way your touch lingers... even when you barely graze my skin. I keep thinking about it, imagining more, wishing you would... touch me, hold me.”

Your cheeks burn as the words leave your lips. This is it. There’s no turning back now. You’ve held this in for so long. And now, it’s out there between you, impossible to ignore, to pretend it doesn’t exist.

"I want to feel you," you confess softly. "I want to feel your hands on me. I can’t pretend I don’t need this anymore."

For a moment, Zayne doesn’t move. His breath is shallow, his eyes locked on yours as his fingers flex slightly against the fabric of his pants. You wait, breathless, watching him.

"I want to touch you," he whispers finally. "I’ve thought about it more than I should. About how it would feel…” Then, his expression falters, frustration flashing across his face. “But I can’t."

The empathetic side of you understands him completely, and you don’t want to push him. But at the same time, you can’t just let this moment slip away.

Your hand moves instinctively, slowly sliding down your chest in a deliberate motion. "You don’t have to." you murmur.

You don’t wait for him to respond as you reach up, your fingers tracing the top button of the shirt. Then, one by one, the buttons come undone, exposing your skin to the warm air of the room. You hesitate for just a moment, your breath catching in your throat as you look at Zayne. His gaze is fixed on you, the unbuttoned shirt, eyes betraying everything his words deny.

Your fingers slide along the edges of the unbuttoned shirt, and, with a steadying breath, you shrug your shoulders slightly, letting the material slip down your arms. The shirt falls away, delicately sliding off your skin. Your skin is bare now, exposed under the dim light, your chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Your nipples are hard as the air brushes over your skin.

Zayne’s reaction is immediate. His eyes widen, and you can see the deep flush flood his cheeks and ears. His gaze roams over your body, taking in every inch of exposed skin, his pupils dilated. He’s stunned, frozen in place, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing—what he’s allowed himself to see.

His hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out, to touch you, but he doesn’t. He’s rooted to the spot, his body betraying him with how tightly he’s gripping the sofa, the knuckles of his hand turning white from the force of his restraint. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak—he’s completely consumed by the sight of you.

Without another word, you let your hand slide down, your fingers brushing against the waistband of your pants. Zayne’s eyes follow your movements. You pause for a moment, savoring the anticipation. Zayne lets out a ragged breath, his body tensing as he watches you, helpless to do anything but stare. Your fingers tremble as you hook them into the waistband of your pants, eyes never leaving Zayne’s. You push the pants down slowly, the fabric sliding over your legs and pooling at your feet, leaving you sitting in just your underwear.

For a moment, you hesitate, your heart pounding in your chest. You give him one last chance to stop you, to pull back before things go any further. "If you want me to leave," you say, your voice low, "you should say it now."

Your words hang in the air, the final chance for him to take control, to push you away. But Zayne says nothing. His lips part slightly, but no words come. He doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t tell you to leave. Instead, his eyes stay locked on yours, his silence a wordless plea for more.

That’s all the confirmation you need.

Your hand slides down slowly, Zayne’s eyes following every move. You let your fingers brush over the front of your underwear, and you know he can see the obvious damp spot, his presence alone having you already soaked through the fabric.

His pupils dilate as he watches, and for a second, you think you hear him let out a soft, involuntary sound—something like a groan—but it’s barely audible. His chest heaves, and his grip on the sofa tightens even more, as if he’s hanging on by a thread.

"I think about you all the time, Zayne," you whisper, your voice trembling. "And when I do... this is how I touch myself." Your hand presses down on the damp fabric. "There’s nothing wrong with this," you continue, your voice silky and sweet. "Not if you just watch."

The words feel like a challenge, a tease. Zayne’s face is a mixture of conflict and desire, but he doesn’t stop you. His eyes are glued to your hand, to the way your fingers move against the fabric of your underwear, his gaze filled with hunger he can’t hide anymore.

Your hand moves in slow, deliberate circles over your underwear, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body, and you let out a soft moan. The sound makes his jaw tighten, and he shifts in his seat, clearly aroused but still holding himself back. His gaze flicks back and forth between your eyes and your body, torn between wanting to pull away and being unable to look anywhere but at you.

Then, finally, his voice breaks the silence. "Take it off," he rasps, his voice trembling with the weight of his words. His eyes meet yours, and there’s no mistaking the command in them now. "I need to see... all of you."

His words send a rush of heat through you, making your entire body tingle. There’s no hesitation in his voice this time. Without a word, you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear, your fingers trembling slightly as you slowly slide the fabric down your hips. The underwear slips down your legs, falling softly to the floor, leaving you completely exposed before him. You sit there, vulnerable, your skin glistening with arousal. You can feel his gaze on every inch of your body, lingering on your thighs, your hips, and finally, on the slick wetness between your legs.

"You’re... so beautiful." he breathes, his voice barely audible, filled with astonishment and desire. Zayne swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to steady himself. "Show me," he says, his voice low, trembling with desire. "Show me how you touch yourself... when you’re thinking about me."

Your heart races, your entire body flushed with heat as you slowly slide your hand down your stomach, your fingers grazing over your slick skin. You let out a soft moan as you begin to touch yourself, your eyes fixed on Zayne. He’s completely captivated, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he watches you.

Your fingers move with a growing urgency, sliding over the slickness between your folds. The sight of you touching yourself, moaning softly, has him teetering on the edge of his restraint. You’re watching him just as intently as he watches you, and you need to see more.

"Touch yourself too," you whisper softly. His eyes snap up to yours, stunned. "It’s not so bad," you add. "You’re not touching me. We’ll just… watch each other."

Zayne’s jaw clenches. His eyes are locked on yours, a storm of guilt and desire brewing beneath the surface. But then he slowly reaches up and unclasps the white collar at his throat.

For a moment, he holds it in his hand, his fingers trembling as he looks down at the small strip of fabric. Then, with a quiet exhale, he sets it aside on the table beside him. His hands move to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them one by one, each motion slow, as though he’s still hesitating at the threshold. When he’s halfway down, Zayne pauses, then pulls the shirt over his head in one fluid motion, slipping free, leaving him bare from the waist up.

The muscles beneath his shirt are more defined than you had imagined. Your eyes roam over every line, every curve of his body, taking in the way his chest moves with each heavy breath. He sits there for a moment, shirtless, his collar gone, his identity as Father Zayne falling away along with it.

He’s just a man now—just Zayne.

You swallow hard, your fingers still moving, your own arousal building with each second that passes. "Please," you whisper. "I want to see you. All of you."

Zayne’s hesitation doesn’t linger for long, before he undoes his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. Your pulse races as the pants drop to the floor, leaving him in nothing but his underwear, his arousal straining against the thin material. His eyes flick to yours, searching, almost pleading. He’s asking without words—asking if this is what you want, if this is what you’re ready for. And you are.

You nod, biting your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. With a shaky breath, Zayne hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, and you can see the tremor in his hands. But he doesn’t stop. He slides them down slowly, the fabric falling in one fluid motion, leaving him completely naked.

Your breath hitches, a soft gasp slipping from your lips as you take in the sight of him. His erection stands thick and heavy, the tip glistening with need. Every inch of him is raw, masculine, breathtaking. He’s stunning, more than you could have imagined, and for a moment, you’re lost in the sheer power of him—his vulnerability and strength laid bare before you.

Your fingers slide over yourself again, the slick heat of your arousal making you moan softly, your body shuddering from the touch. Zayne’s erection throbs visibly as he watches you. His hand twitches at his side, his body screaming for release, but he waits for you to give him permission, waiting to be told it’s okay to let go.

"Touch yourself," your voice is breathy, filled with need. "Please, Zayne."

His eyes flick between your hand and your face, but then, slowly, he wraps his hand around his length. The sight of him finally surrendering, of his strong hand gripping himself, sends a surge of heat straight to your core. You can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your lips as your fingers move faster.

Zayne lets out a low groan, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he strokes himself. The room is filled with the sound of your combined breathing, the soft moans that slip from your lips, the slick sound of your fingers slipping inside your wet entrance. You’re both completely lost in each other now, and there’s no going back.

Zayne’s hand moves slowly, rhythmically over his length, his breathing heavy and uneven as he watches you, his eyes filled with a hunger so intense it makes your pulse race even faster. His breath catches in his throat, and you know he’s still holding back.

“Relax,” you whisper, your voice shaky but filled with warmth. “It’s okay... I want this. You don’t have to hold back.”

Your words seem to wash over him, his eyes flickering with something like relief. His gaze is locked on your body, the way your fingers are soaked with your wetness, the slick sound filling the quiet space between you. His jaw clenches as he tries to steady himself, his hand stroking his length with increasing need.

"You’re... beautiful," he murmurs, his voice hoarse, barely more than a breath. "God, you’ve been... in my head... in my dreams... almost every night."

His confession makes your squeeze around your fingers, a soft moan escaping your lips. The raw honesty in his voice, makes your body tremble as you teeter on the edge. Your fingers press harder, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you feel the tension in your body building, coiling tight, ready to snap.

You can see he’s close too—his hand moving faster, his body tense with the effort of holding on. But even now, even with his own release so close, his eyes are locked on you, filled with a hunger.

"I want to see you," he whispers, his voice low and rough. "I want to see you... let go. I want to hear you... Please..."

That’s all it takes. His voice, thick with need, and the sight of him on the brink, unravel you completely. Your breath hitches, turning into ragged gasps as pleasure overtakes you, your fingers moving faster, desperate to prolong the sensation as wave after wave crashes through you, each one more intense than the last. And all the while, Zayne watches, his hand moving faster, desperate to join you in the release.

Your breath steadies, your hand still resting on your wet folds, the space between you now feels too wide. "Come closer," you whisper. "I want you closer... please."

The raw need in your voice, the tenderness of your plea, draws him toward you, erasing any hesitation. He hovers over you, kneeling between your legs, not quite touching but close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. His arousal still hard and throbbing, inches away from you, his gaze filled with so much want that it makes your own body heat up again.

"I’m... I’m so close," Zayne gasps, his voice shaking, laced with desperation.

"Let go," you whisper, your voice soft but unyielding. Your eyes lock with his, your breath hitching as you speak. "Let go on me, Zayne."

His eyes widen at your words. He looks conflicted for a moment, as if he’s about to argue, to get up and find something else—a tissue, anything to keep from crossing that final line. But the hunger in your gaze, the trembling of your body beneath him pulls him back into the moment. The sight of your hand sliding over the slickness between your thighs seals his fate. His hand tightens around himself, his strokes quickening as his control shatters.

"Please," you whisper, your soft plea the final push he need.

And then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he finally lets go.

The first hot spurt of his release hits your belly, warm and wet, the sensation eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. His body trembles violently above you, his muscles taut and shaking as his hand moves over himself with desperate need. He groans deeply, the sound raw and primal, as more of his release follows, thick and hot, landing between your thighs, coating your skin. His breath hitches, his body tensing with each spasm of pleasure as he watches the way his release paints your skin. His hand continues to pump his length, his chest heaving with ragged breaths, caught in the overwhelming force of his orgasm. 

Zayne closes his eyes as the last drops land on your flushed skin, his body still above yours.

For a long moment, neither of you move. The air is thick with the weight of what just transpired, but there's no guilt, no regret. His breath is still ragged, your own chest rising and falling with the same uneven rhythm.

When Zayne opens his eyes, they’re soft with awe—filled with pure, unguarded admiration.

"You..." he whispers, his voice rough and shaky, barely able to finish the thought. His eyes trace the glistening trail of warmth he’s left on your stomach, the way it pools between your legs, marking you with the undeniable proof of how far you’ve both fallen. "You’re... perfect."

A soft, breathless smile plays on your lips. "So are you," you murmur back.

For a moment, Zayne just stares at you, his eyes filled with something deeper than words can express. Then, he leans forward, pressing a soft, featherlight kiss to your forehead. The gesture is so tender, so filled with affection, that it takes you by surprise. It feels fragile, like something you both need to hold onto, if only for a little longer.

When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours again, and for the first time, there’s a sense of peace. Just the quiet aftermath of something real—messy, complicated, but undeniably real.

And for now, that’s enough.

[grandline-fics]

Terms of Endearment

DESCRIPTION:  You call them by a term of endearment without realising 

WARNINGS: just fluff, mentions of alcohol in Luffy's

CHARACTERS: Ace, Sabo, Luffy | Law, Kid, Shanks, Marco, Zoro

WORDS: 1,933

A/N: The next part in this in honour of reaching 500 followers. Hope you all enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

ACE

You knew nothing would ever happen between you and the Division Commander. You knew he was just a likeable guy who was friendly and warm with everyone. Countless times you told yourself that he was just nice with everyone and yet still you couldn’t help but feel your heart beat just a little faster when he smiled at you and you couldn’t stop yourself from liking him a little more each time he spoke with you and spent time with you outside of chores and tasks being done onboard the ship. It didn’t matter though, even with the knowledge nothing romantic would happen you were happy to be considered a close friend of Ace’s.

One morning you were perched on the edge of the ship’s railing and keeping a critical eye on the thick wall of cloud draped over the entirety of the sky above the next island you were approaching. It made a stark difference to the clear blue you and the rest of the crew were currently under. You were no stranger to the absurdity of the ever changing weather and separate climates certain islands had but seeing what you were going to be greeted with was starting to sour your mood. It wasn’t as fun stopping at an island if there was a storm to endure.

“Glaring at the clouds won’t make them change you know.” You looked over your shoulder to see Ace hop up onto the railing and sit down beside you. Glancing out of the corner of your eye you were jealous of how relaxed he was and let out a long sigh as you returned your stare to the clouds you could now see were darker than you had originally thought. 

“Who knows, stranger things have happened on these seas.” You mused, scowling harder now that the idea was in your head. “Maybe I have the ability to control weather and neither of us knew it? Don’t know unless I try.”

From beside you Ace laughed, reclining back to support his body on his elbows and grinned up at you. 

“If that were possible, that’d be a pretty dumb gift. Glaring at clouds to make them obey you? You’d get a headache all day.” You rolled your eyes and laughed, getting more comfortable too, lying down and tucking your arms behind your head. 

“Look we can’t all be super amazing and control fire like some people, Ace.” You teased, a small yawn breaking from your lips as your eyes closed. You were still a ways away from the stormy island so you may as well make the most of the sunshine and warmth until then. “Some of us are just boring.”

“I definitely wouldn’t call you boring.” Ace told you. Safely in the knowledge that you couldn’t see him, he could observe you carefully with softened gaze. “You’re one of my favourite people to hang out with.” 

“Aw thank you love, you always know just what to say.” Your relaxed smile brightened considerably but you were too drowsy to open your eyes again to look at the man beside you. It was also why you hadn’t realised your slip of the tongue. Ace however tensed and sat up a little straighter from his once relaxed position. His eyes were widened and a soft pink was dusting his freckled skin. All this time he’d thought his feelings were one-sided and now he was hit with the reality that it might not be the case. Overcome with a burst of excitement and hope he quickly lay back down and used his hat to hide his giddy expression and began to think about how to subtly broach the subject when you were awake.

SABO

“You’re not going to improve if you don’t keep your focus.” Hack lectured, swiftly knocking Sabo back with ease. Sabo managed to recover from the attack and retaliated with one of his own that was completely dodged to the point it made the attack look so pitiful. Hack paused in the sparring match to frown at the younger Revolutionary. “Seriously, what’s with you today? Do you need to take a break?” Quickly Sabo shook his head and forced himself to keep his attention on Hack but even then he couldn’t help but feel your presence silently calling to him. 

You were oblivious to the power you had over the Chief of Staff, even from the very first day you joined the Revolutionary Army you’d somehow managed to make Sabo immediately endeared to you. Given Sabo’s personality he was able to pass off his momentary slips and lack of concentration when you were around and for the most part others hadn’t made the connection. Most being the word. People like Hack, Koala, and Dragon however knew. Normally Hack wouldn’t mind and ignore it but this was the third time in the short amount of time of the sparring match that he’d seen Sabo zone out and look your way as you were speaking with Dragon about a recent mission you’d been on. Enough was enough. After knocking Sabo onto his back, Hack turned and called you over. You finished your conversation with Dragon and approached the sparring pair with a soft, expectant smile while Sabo got to his feet. “I want you to spar Sabo with me. Perhaps having two opponents will help sharpen his dulled senses.” 

You became concerned to hear Hack’s less than complimentary tone at the blond and you looked to Sabo with a light frown, scrutinising his features carefully. Could it be he was sick? Was something else be bothering him? It wasn't like the Chief of Staff to be so distracted especially when it came to his training. At the suggestion of you fighting along with Hack, Sabo’s expression became a mix of uncertainty and irritation. He didn’t want to spar against you but he couldn’t outright deny Hack requesting you join them given he had no real reason to oppose it. Sabo could only take a breath and adjust his stance while praying he didn’t make an embarrassment of himself.

At first having you as part of the fight helped Sabo when it came to focusing on the fight, by having two skilled fighters attacking he didn’t have the ability to pay attention to his personal feelings. However when he kept his sight on Hack as the priority he’d slipped up and forgotten you. You took the window of opportunity and ducked under Sabo’s arm, your face less than inch from his. Quickly you hooked her arm around his and tucked your foot around his ankle, twisting and knocking him to the ground. You kept a firm hold on Sabo’s wrist and pressed your knee into his back. “Give up sweetie?” you asked innocently, unable to see Sabo’s eyes widen. Before he could respond you were abruptly called for by another Revolutionary to go out on a mission. Pouting you released Sabo and left him and Hack. 

“Please tell me I didn’t imagine that…” Sabo uttered, almost begging Hack. He looked up to see the Fishman grin at him and help him to his feet. 

“No I heard it too. Funny thing is I don’t think they noticed they did it.” Sabo watched your retreating form and brightly smiled. 

“Interesting.”

LUFFY

For the most part Luffy can be considered fairly clueless about a lot of things if they don’t involve his ambition to be King of the Pirates and obtaining the One Piece, doing whatever he wanted and eating all he wished. That included his own deeper feelings at times. However no matter how complex Luffy’s emotions were about certain things he found it easier to break them down into more simplistic views and gain a better understanding about them. He found he had to do that with you and the longer you were part of his crew the more he had to take an inward look at his feelings. So far he was able to discern that he liked you, he liked being around you and it was mutual because you’d been all too eager to join his crew. For the longest time it was simple as that. 

Things however became complicated one night after he and the rest of the crew helped free another town from a corrupt ruler. As always the celebration was a large affair with plenty of food, music and drink. While Luffy wasn’t a drinker and happily indulged in all the food he could get his hands on, you were pulled into a drinking contest with some of the locals along with Nami, Zoro, Franky, and Usopp. You’d managed to hold your own for a respectable amount but when you felt the world being to tilt and your mind grow hazy you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle anymore. 

Staggering from the table you somehow managed to wander to the only spot you knew you’d feel completely safe and content with. You didn’t know how you managed it, call it instinct or sheer will but you stopped beside your Captain and slid down to sit on the soft grass beside him, leaning against his back for support. Luffy looked over his shoulder to grin at you before continuing to eat. “You lost huh?” he laughed before taking a large bite of a meat skewer.

“It’s cheating when Zoro plays.” You grumbled, shifting to get more comfortable against your Captain. “He’s so smug too. Didn’t even wanna win anyway.” You fell into soft laughter with Luffy and then drifted into content silence. Subconsciously Luffy moved while he ate, seamlessly turning so you were leaning against his side and neither of you seemed to even notice the new position.

When morning came and you woke with a hangover and lack of memory you let out a worried groan, hoping that whatever you’d done wasn’t too embarrassing or at the very least you hoped that everyone else was also too drunk to remember too. Wincing you pushed yourself up to see that you were in your own bed. Hazily you tried to force your brain to work and managed to pull out the image of Luffy which made sense, he was your go-to for anything. Knowing he didn’t drink, you knew you could also rely on him for the truth on what you failed to remember. You found Luffy sitting on Sunny’s head just as you knew he’d be but you became worried to see him frowning, deep in thought. “Everything okay Luffy?” you asked, flinching when Luffy’s head swiftly snapped around to look at you intently. 

“No! You’re not allowed to call me that.” Immediately worry and guilt took hold. What had you done? Would he ever forgive you? Oh no, what if it was so bad he’d kick you off of the ship for good. 

“Wh-what do you mean?“ You asked panicked and feeling sick which was not from the hangover. “Whatever I’ve done I’m sorry but I don’t remember. Please tell me what I did wrong. I can fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Luffy’s expression became confused. “I’ve just decided that you can’t call me Luffy anymore I like what you called me last night after I helped you to bed better.” 

“Oh…” you couldn’t tell what you were feeling in that moment exactly. Desperately you tried to think what you called him, silently thankful that whatever it was hadn’t offended him. “Well if you want me to call you that instead you have to remind me.”

“You called me dear.” Luffy grinned while your face reddened.

[spitdrunken]

Your Mr. Scarletella dear lord that was delicious!! I’m kinda obsessed w the concept of not knowing what you’re doing is bringing someone pleasure or at least not until they’ve cum from it. I praise you and I hope for more fics of that kind in the future <3

You're not sure why Mr. Scarletella has seen a bit more fidgety than usually lately. None of his behaviours present in typical, human ways. So, whereas you might have fiddled with your fingers, paced back and forth or talked too much, he's been eerily quiet and constantly distoring the space around him. Colours warp and twist. Sometimes, you'll blink and he'll be beside you. Then, you blink again, and he'll be in front of you. Before you know it, he's behind you again.

You simply can't shake the feeling something's going on. You stop walking. (Where had you been going again...?)

"You hurt?" You ask. "Upset? Troubled? Many quick... Move." Mr. Scarletella, usually eager to respond in his own way, remains quiet. He does appear right besides of you. You reach out for him, the brush of your fingers hovering right above his non-existent body. "Me want help you. You understand?"

"Me understand," he says. His voice is accompanied by more static than usual. The whole air around him seems to hum. Beyond that, his face looks a little different too, but you can't quite put your finger on it. "Me like you. Me want touch. Me want give you [...]... Happy. Enjoyable." He lowers his head a little, averting his face from yours. "You understand?"

You don't know one of the words he used. You try to repeat it. "[...]... Me not understand."

Mr. Scarletella tilts his umbrella a little towards you. "My body. ...Container. You want?" He shifts his hand so he is holding the handle of the umbrella out towards you. He wants you to hold it, it seems. If that'll make him happy, you're happy to oblige, though you don't quite see the significance. You smile at him.

"Me want. Give me." When you take it from him, you catch a glimpse of his face. It becomes obvious now what had been unclear to you before. A reddish flush has settled on his face, wide eyes only staring at your face for a moment before darting away. That should've been your first warning sign.

Even though he'd told you the umbrella could be touched, it's still a surprise that your hand doesn't go straight through it. There's a weight to the object that you hadn't expected. The handle seems to hum and vibrate in your hand with some kind of unseen power.

You twirl the handle in your hand, gliding your hands over the material. It's squishier than you would've thought. It's like holding an approximation of an umbrella made by someone who had only ever seen the object, rather than touched it themselves. You search and fiddle for the button to shut the top, just to make it a bit easier to carry, but you can't seem to find it. Static teases the edge of your hearing. You only see Mr. Scarletella out of the corner of your eye.

You twirl the handle in your hand, gliding your hands over the material. It's squishier than you would've thought. It's like holding an approximation of an umbrella made by someone who had only ever seen the object, rather than touched it themselves. You search and fiddle for the button to shut the top, just to make it a bit easier to carry, but you can't seem to find it. Static teases the edge of your hearing. You only see Mr. Scarletella out of the corner of your eye.

You sigh a little, your hands fiddling with the material before groping up and down the main body. Maybe it's unable to be closed? That would suck. Brow furrowed in thought about your silly little task, you extend your arm and press down on the outer canopy, trying to get it to fold in with no luck. When you push it in, it just pops back out again. Your arm is starting to ache from the weight. You squeeze the handle a bit tighter.

Then, Mr. Scarletella whines. Or, at least, you think he does. The noise is fragmented with so much static and garbled noise that it's hard to entirely tell. You whip around to face him, finding him in an entirely different position than before. He's slumped against the wall, feet facing outward, with an even deeper flush on his face as his fingernails scratch at his cheeks. His eyes are wide and his shoulders shake.

He looks downright loopy. He's lost control of his form, back having sunk several inches into the concrete wall behind him. Behind his fingers, he's grinning, eyes half-lidded and gaze unfocused. The sight sends an immediate, unmistakable shot of arousal through your body.

You're immediately overwhelmed with the desire to ruin him even more. If you had been able to touch him, you would've practically pounced on him, pulling his hand away and pressing your lips against his. Since that isn't possible, you lift up the umbrella and kiss it instead, intent on finding out how many more noises you can pull out of him now that you know what you're doing.

[littlespoonevan]

your hand in my pocket to keep us both warm

post 8x08 because i'm SAD in a way that can only be eased with buddie hurt/comfort 💔 title from abstract (psychopomp) by hozier

-

Buck is the one to drive him to the airport because who else would it be?

It feels a lot like deja vu as he approaches the glass doors of Departures but his step only falters for a moment before Eddie’s hand is catching his sleeve at the elbow and leading him through them. It’s further than Abby ever let him get.

Eddie lets him go as far the security line and he almost looks regretful when he turns to face Buck.

Buck would like to think he’s handled this well so far. He’s been supportive, helped Eddie choose his new home, listened to his fears about his parents, reassured him about Christopher, promised to oversee the shipping of the rest of Eddie’s stuff next week. He’s done everything right.

It hasn’t made any of this feel less wrong.

They look at each other now, awkward in a way they never are, until Eddie drops his bag and pulls him into a hug without saying anything.

Maybe because there’s nothing to say. Buck’s heart has been lodged in his throat since he parked the car; he’s not even sure he could say anything if he wanted to.

Eddie’s arms around him are a familiar weight though so Buck allows himself to sink into them. To tuck his chin into the crook of Eddie’s shoulder and to fist his hands in the back of his jacket like if he holds on tight enough he might be able to convince Eddie to stay.

When Eddie does pull back he makes no attempt to leave the circle of Buck’s arms. Instead one of his hands goes to that same spot at the juncture of Buck’s neck – always the same spot – and when his thumb makes contact with the divot in Buck’s throat he seeks out Buck’s gaze.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” Buck croaks, the tell-tale burn behind his eyes becoming more pronounced by the second.

“Like I’m Abby,” Eddie sighs. “Or Ali. Or Tommy. I’m not leaving you, Buck.”

Buck tries to laugh but it comes out too hysterical and Eddie’s hand tightens on his neck.

“I’m leaving,” he allows. “But I’m not leaving you.”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you,” Buck says, the words wobbling in the middle. His hands are still twisted in Eddie’s jacket.

“And you think I do?” Eddie asks with a half-laugh. “Who am I gonna talk to when my folks are driving me crazy? Who am I gonna talk to when I do anything? Besides, you think Chris will accept you not visiting at least once a month?”

Truthfully, Buck has no idea what Chris wants right now but he clings to Eddie’s words anyway.

“Everyone at work is gonna find me insufferable. It was bad enough that last time you weren’t there.”

Eddie laughs again, thumb brushing Buck’s neck seemingly absentmindedly. “No they won’t. And I’ll be on Facetime so much it’ll be like I never left.”

Buck ducks his head but nods anyway, gathering up the courage to say what he wants to say next. “I know you have to go,” he starts, steeling himself as he makes himself meet Eddie’s gaze. “But please don’t go forever.”

Eddie’s expression blanks, his mouth parting over nothing. Buck can only stare back, hoping that just this once it might be different. That he won’t get a, ‘Take care of yourself, Buck,’ and a hand to the cheek before the person in front of him disappears forever.

Eddie doesn’t touch his cheek. Instead he presses their foreheads together hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make Buck’s breath catch and rush out of him on a shaky exhale.

“I won’t. I promise,” Eddie breathes and his hand moves from Buck’s neck to the back of Buck’s head and Buck can’t help wondering for a moment what would happen if he closed the distance between them. If Eddie would kiss him back.

It’s not a thought he’s ever entertained before but he’s thinking it now and it feels…like it makes sense. Like an inevitability.

And what a time to have a realisation like that.

Eddie leans back then and Buck forces himself to unclench his hands, attempting to smooth out the back of Eddie’s jacket with trembling hands.

“You should go,” he says because Eddie won’t.

Eddie nods faintly in agreement and it looks like it takes every ounce of effort for him to take a step back. Buck picks up his bag for him, offers it to him, and tries for a weak smile so Eddie will know it’s okay. That he can go and Buck won’t cause a scene.

“I’ll call you as soon as I get to my parents place.”

Buck nods. “Give Chris a hug for me.”

“I will.”

Eddie starts looking towards the security line again and Buck blurts out, “Tell him I love him.”

Eddie looks back to him, a devastating smile of understanding on his face. “He knows already. But I will.”

Buck nods again and then there’s nothing left to say. Eddie turns to go and Buck does the same because he can’t watch until he’s out of sight. It hurts too much already and he can barely hold his tears back as it is.

He doesn’t need to watch himself get left behind again.

~

He’s just unlocking his car when his phone rings. He doesn’t check who it is as he climbs in, just shoves the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he reaches for his seatbelt.

“Keep me company while I wait for my flight?”

He straightens so quickly the phone almost falls into his lap but he catches it just in time. And he tries to laugh but he thinks it might come out more like a sob. “Keep me company on the drive home?”

“Always,” Eddie says like they’re driving home from work after a long shift.

Buck switches his phone to speaker mode and looks down at the keys in his hand, at the keys to the loft, Maddie’s place and Eddie’s house respectively, considering his options before turning on the ignition.

“So there’s the guy at the gate-“ Eddie starts and Buck lets the sound of his voice wash over him. Allows himself just one singular moment where he closes his eyes and holds his hand to his chest before he pulls himself together and drives out of his space.

Eddie is offering him a play by play of the guy at the gate who’s insisting his luggage is not chirping and Buck gets his breath back enough to make a quip about how that made it through the security scanner.

When he reaches the freeway it takes hardly any thought at all for him to take the exit that’ll get him to the Diaz house fastest.

He’s going home after all.

~

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 1

Summary: When your very curious robot boyfriend finds all of your old sex toys. Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Smut but that goes without saying for this fic p.s. I put out a mini drabble as well right before this in case you didn't catch it hehe p.p.s I have another temperature play drabble request so keep an eye out for that one in the future 🤭 Requested by an anon 💜

"What are these?" Jungkook asks when he walks into the living room where I'm sat down watching Hidden Love for the fifth time, holding up my little black box that I had hidden away and had completely forgotten about.

"NOTHING!" I say hurriedly, scrambling to get off the couch and tripping over the blanket I was using in the process. I regain my footing, run up to him and reach for the box but he holds it over my head, completely out of my reach.

"Are you cheating on me?" he teases, the objects in the box being ones I used before I got him. "You seriously think I would use those anymore? Now give it here!" I jump but once my fingers just barely touch it he grabs onto my hips to keep me from trying again.

I glare, waiting for him to give them back and when all I'm given is a stupid smug smile I resort to threats. "Give that to me or I will turn you off and make you charge on the floor instead of in bed with me" his eyes widen, not expecting that and deciding to do as I say, handing me the box of various sex toys that could never truly satisfy me.

"Why do you have so many?" he asks, picking up one very elaborate and confusing looking one that I snatch out of his hand immediately and put back in the box, shoving it in the back of my closet.

"Because none of them did everything I wanted them to" I sigh and close the door in hopes to help change the subject. When I try to walk past him though he stops me by wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me back to stand in front of him.

"I don't know why I asked since I know how needy my baby is" he says, his voice dropping a bit while he places kisses on my neck, knowing that'll help take the edge off.

"Why do you always have to go through my t-things?" I stutter, my resolve of trying to stay upset with him faltering. "Because I wanna know everything about you baby, and that includes all of your dirty little secrets" he says directly into my ear before sucking on the sensitive skin right below.

I shudder at the thought of letting him in that much and I know I will eventually but his want to figure out as many ways as he can to please me on his own is way too fun to experience, no matter how embarrassing it might seem.

"You like that huh? The thought of me knowing everything about you, all your deepest darkest desires that you haven't even dared to say out loud. My baby likes to hide that away huh? Too afraid to even tell me what she wants sometimes. That's pretty selfish don't you think?" he says, his grip on my waist tightening when he pulls me closer, his sensors picking up on my arousal and in turn hardening his length for me to use as I see fit.

"Why don't you let me use some of those on you tonight hm? Or better yet, let me watch you use them to get yourself off. I bet you'd look adorable, so frustrated and begging for release but never quite getting exactly what you wanted" he says but I shake my head.

"Too cold, want you" his presence tonight being one that drove me into submission so easily. I can't help but become putty in his hands sometimes. He was made for me and knows exactly what I like so why not give into what his programing is telling him to do to me.

"Aw, too cold for you? Needed me to warm you up?" he says, his condescending way of talking to me one of the easiest ways to tip me into that submissive headspace, only with him though. With him things are different. With him I know I'm safe.

I nod my head and my lip juts out the slightest bit leaving him running his thumb along it before I decide to open my mouth and run my tongue across it. His robotic pupils dilate as if they were human and the next second I'm on my back on my bed, him hovering over me with that sexy smug look on his face.

"Does my pretty baby want something?" he asks, caressing my cheek with a featherlight touch, and I blink up at him, still reeling from his sudden actions. He hums as a way to get my attention on him again, wanting me to answer his question.

"Want you" I say, hoping he'll accept my simple answer but I know he won't settle for that. "You've gotta be a little more specific love" he teases making me huff. "Oh come on, be a good girl for me and tell me what you want hm?" he mumbles and peppers kisses all along my neck and collarbone, having worn just a tank top and shorts today.

His hands heat up and run along my skin, warming me up just like he said he would but suddenly his hands turn ice cold, making me push him away but as always he doesn't budge at all.

"What the matter love?" he taunts, his hands quickly going back to a normal temperature. "Don't do that" I scowl, not liking the sudden change. "Lemme play around a bit yeah? Wanna try something" he says, clearly ignoring my scolding.

I squint my eyes at him when he looks down at me, a stupidly tempting look on his face. "Just trust me" he says, leaning down to mumble it against my lips, just barely kissing me before pulling back and looking at me again for confirmation.

After thinking for a couple more seconds I nod my head and he tongues his cheek, a habit that he picked up from who knows where but something that's become so sexy to me and he knows it.

He helps me strip out of my clothes and lets out a groan in approval, running his fingers through my folds.

"Baby is so wet for me already and I've barely done anything. How adorable. Been waiting all day for me to touch you huh?" he says, watching as my mouth falls open when he applies pressure on my clit just how I like it, tracing circles around it and alternating with just barely dipping a finger into my entrance, never giving me what I really want, playing with me just like he said he would.

When his fingers start to touch me with more precision, one finger pumping inside of me while his thumb circles my clit I feel that same chill run though my body and I realize his hands have gone cold inside me making me yelp and back away from him but he growls and uses his other hand to grip my hip pinning me down on the bed to keep me from moving.

"Stay still for me love, promise it'll feel good" he says and I decide to trust him. He knows what my body wants and what it can handle, the signs to look out for to know what's going on in my head.

"So good for me" he says, kissing me and starting to pump his fingers in and out of me again, adding a second one right away but switching the temperature back to a warmer one to help with the stretch.

Once he starts to feel that I've gotten used to the intrusion he changes the temperature just cold enough so I can feel it, my back arching as the only way I can move about since he's still got my hips pinned against the mattress.

"Shh I know I know. You can take it though, it's just a little cold love" he coaches, his cold fingers dragging along my warm walls making me wince. "This is w-why I stopped using them, t-too cold" I admit although I already had before, hoping that in some way that would make him stop but he doesn't.

"You know I'll take care of you though" he says, the temperature of his fingers changing back to normal now, giving me a bit of a breather but soon he's pulling them out of me making me wince for another reason.

"Where are you going?" I whine but he only laughs and gets off the bed to take off his clothes before crawling back on top of me. "My baby is so impatient, aren't you?" he chuckles, settling between my legs and dragging his tip along my folds, his brows furrowed in concentration while collecting my slick and rubbing it all over his cock.

"Just put it in already, please" I basically cry out, the temperature play leaving me incredible sensitive and he knows it, not letting up with this sick form of torture. He places his tip against my entrance, not pushing in and just teasing my hole and when I open my mouth to protest he shoves himself into me, knocking the wind out of me, his response a hum, clearly satisfied with the results of his actions.

"Couldn't even wait for me to fuck you like I wanted to, needed my cock in you so bad that you couldn't even shut up and wait. Thought you wanted to be good for me tonight" he grunts, slamming into me at a relentless pace, his robotic strength being unparalleled in bed. I sob, the intensity and the need to catch my breath overwhelming me in the best way possible but when he chances the temperature of his dick I'm screaming for him to change it back.

"Stop running" he growls, grabbing my hips and sitting back on his heels so he can fuck me onto him, pushing and pulling my hips so fast making my breasts bounce up and down. "Fuck play with your tits. Wanna ruin you but my baby can lend me a hand or two can't she?" he says, talking down to me like I'm fucking stupid when I clearly am, cock drunk and barely able to see straight.

I slowly bring my hands up my torso, ghosting my fingers along my breasts, "S-shit" he stutters, his programing really playing the part and making me moan at his reaction. "Play with your nipples baby, get them nice and hard for me" he says, his hands dragging my hips back and forth making his length disappear inside of me over and over, never ceasing making my cock drunk mind go blurry, my reaction speed severely diminished.

He decides to give me a breather, stopping his movements and putting his fingers in my mouth, my lips closing around them right away. "Make a mess baby" he say, encouraging me to get them as wet as possible, my tongue swirling around them, a pool of saliva now gathered and making a complete mess, exactly how he wanted.

He takes them out of my mouth and my brows furrow, not wanting to stop since the approving gaze he gave me while I did it being something I didn't want to give up just yet. He chuckles and rubs his fingers together, making sure his thumb, pointer and middle finger are covered before using them to play with my nipple making me whine at the harsh pressure.

"Shh it's okay, I got you" he coaches, the cold temperature making my nipples harden painfully, goosebumps now present all over my body. 

"My baby gets so cold so easily. Want me to warm you up again?" he taunts and I nod my head, the rate of his thrusts though making it difficult to decipher but he knows and so he switches to a warmer temperature making me sigh in delight. It quickly goes from too cold to way too warm making me moan in delight, the scorching temperature being painfully pleasurable.

"Don't worry baby, it's not gonna leave a mark, I wouldn't hurt my pretty girl. Unless she wanted me to" he says, the offer enticing enough to make me think twice but I shake my head 'no' and he takes it.

"Baby doesn't wanna be branded? That's okay, I'll take good care of you" he coos and that he does.

Over and over and over. 

Drabble Masterlist

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[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Wrong name 👕⚽️

Ingrid Engen × reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

(my first language isn't english, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes)

Summary :

You decide to wear Alexia’s jersey to a match, instead of Ingrid’s.

You knew exactly what you were doing when you grabbed the Alexia Putellas jersey from your wardrobe. It wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t a mistake. You wanted to see how your girlfriend would react. She was always so calm, composed, and never really the jealous type. With this little experiment, you hoped to get some kind of reaction.

As you slipped on Alexia’s jersey, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the different ways Ingrid could react, especially considering you always showed up to her matches wearing her name.

You walked into the stadium with a playful smirk, already imagining her reaction. The energy of the crowd surrounded you as you found your seat, excitement building for the big game. But, even as the match kicked off, you couldn’t focus on the action in front of you. Your mind was too preoccupied with how Ingrid would take this little joke.

When she spotted you from the pitch, there was a brief flash of confusion in her eyes, followed by what you could only describe as irritation. Ingrid’s gaze lingered on you for a moment, you could practically feel her thoughts from where you sat:

Really? Alexia?

As the game went on, you couldn’t help but giggle every time Ingrid glanced your way. Her performance was flawless, of course, nothing seemed to shake her focus on the field. But between plays, when her eyes caught yours again, you noticed a little frown tugging at her lips.

After the final whistle, you made your way to the players’ area, trying your best to hide your anticipation. The moment Ingrid emerged from the tunnel, she let out an annoyed:

-Really?

Cossing her arms, a mix of amusement and annoyance on her face.

- Alexia’s shirt?

You grinned, pretending to be innocent.

- What ? She’s a legend! Plus, it’s a really comfortable.

Ingrid eyes were filled with annoyance but you could still see a playful glint in them.

- I see how it is. Preferring the captain to your own girlfriend, I'm disappointed kjærlighet. (love)

You stepped closer, unable to hide your laughter anymore.

- Don’t be mad. You’re still my favorite player, but I just thought... I don’t know, maybe you’d want a little competition.

Ingrid shook her head, clearly trying to hide her smile.

- Oh, I’m not worried about the competition

She said, stepping closer until she was standing right in front of you.

- I just hope you know who you’re going home with.

Her voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a subtle reminder of who you were actually here for. You couldn’t resist.

- Of course I do. The best player on the field.

Ingrid smirked, finally letting her arms drop as she wrapped them around your waist, pulling you in for a quick hug.

- Good

She murmured into your ear, her tone softer now.

- But next time, wear my shirt.

You chuckled, hugging her back.

- We’ll see. I kind of like keeping you on your toes.

As she pulled away, Ingrid rolled her eyes, though you could see she wasn’t really upset.

- Just remember, Alexia might be the captain, but I’m the one you’re stuck with.

You smiled, knowing she was right.

- I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Her hands found your hips, playing with the end of the jersey.

- Take it off.

- What ?

Before you could even processe de information the jersey was off your body. Taking her jersey off, Ingrid handed you her jersey.

- Put it on

- No it's all sweety

She gave you a look that made you put it on immediately, wanting to survive till the end of the night. Once on, Ingrid took a good look at you, admiring your features.

- Better

She grabbed your hand and walked straight to the parking lot, impatient to finally get home. Alexia mouthing a "Good luck" as you pass by, having seen the all thing.

[jpmarvel90]

Dont Belong Part 3

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Word Count: 7175

Relationship: Mother WandaNat x Daugher Reader

Summary: Y/n's infection is hitting her hard and she's still struggling with her feelings on her parents. Thankfully, Yelena is there to help cheer her up and she brings along a surprise that might just make everything feel better!

Nat: Mama Wanda: Mom

Y/n POV:

These last two days in the hospital have blurred together, a monotonous cycle of dull light and beeping machines. The weight of my infection drags on me, leaving me shivering one moment and sweating the next. I've spent far too much time staring at the ceiling, feeling trapped in this sterile room, yearning for the freedom of my life before the mission went sideways. The boredom is suffocating, and I feel like I'm losing pieces of myself with every passing hour.

I feel a constant gaze from my parents who rarely leave my side. It's strange to go from having them ignore you to being around all the time. Part of me feels like things were like they used to be when I was a full part of their family. The other part of me is screaming saying they don't mean it and will soon be gone again.

But today feels different, a whisper of hope fluttering in the air. I've been waiting for this moment, and when a familiar knock sounds at the door, my heart races with anticipation. "Can I come in?" Yelena's voice calls softly, and I can't suppress the grin that spreads across my face at the sound of her.

"Of course!" I call back, the eagerness spilling over in my tone. I sit up a little straighter, my heart pounding as I manage to prop myself up, using the button on the side of the bed to elevate myself.

The door swings open, and Yelena steps in, her expression a mix of relief and worry. Her golden hair catches the light, and I can see the telltale signs of sleepless nights etched under her eyes. "Y/n!" she breathes, rushing to my side, her voice trembling slightly as she takes my hand.

"Yelena! I'm so glad to see you." The words come out a little breathless, and I can't help the surge of emotion that washes over me. Just seeing her makes the room feel a little less confining, a little brighter.

"I can't believe you're awake," she says, her grip tightening around my fingers. "I was so scared. We all were. You had everyone worried sick." Her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of my situation lifts just a bit. I don't think I've ever seen Yelena emotional like this before and it helps me realise how bad this whole situation is. She would never allow anyone to see her this vulnerable except for Mama.

"Hey, I'm okay. Well, sort of." I gesture weakly to the IV drip, the hospital bed, and the machines that surround me. "Just a little out of commission at the moment."

Yelena's smile is tentative but bright, yet it's overshadowed by the concern etched on her face. "I just hate seeing you hurt like this. You're my niece and I thought I would always be here to protect you." She shares honestly.

I give her hand a squeeze and share a warm smile when she finally looks up to me. "I can't be protected forever. Besides, I need you now. This recovery is going to be shit and I need you to help me when it gets too much." I reassure her and she nods. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to help you through it all. Stark has even set me up on the same floor as you. So, I'll be there whenever you need me." She explains, making my heart warm with the thought of seeing her for a while to come.

"What about the widows?" I ask, knowing how much that means to her. "I've already been able to help so many. Now I need to help you. The others can wait. Besides, Kate can do the research on where we need to go next." She replies. "Who's Kate?" I ask, surprised to hear that she is working with someone else.

"Just a stray that Clint found. She's annoying, but oddly fun to be around. I think you'd like her. I'm sure she'll be around at some point to say hi." She explains with a shrug.

As the initial shock of seeing me seems to fade, I can see the corners of Yelena's mouth twitching upward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It's as if she's flipping a switch, her demeanour transforming from worried auntie to the playful, teasing friend I know and love.

"You know," she starts, leaning back slightly and crossing her arms, "for someone who just woke up from a dramatic hospital nap, you look surprisingly like a zombie. I mean, I thought they had strict rules against bringing the undead into the hospital."

I let out a soft laugh, despite the ache in my chest. "Yeah, well, the food here isn't exactly helping my cause. I'm pretty sure I could survive off of those tasteless mushy meals for a week and still look better than this."

Yelena raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained. "Mushy meals? I'd expect you to be on some gourmet diet, considering all the special treatments they give you. I'm starting to think you should at least get some ice cream as a post-surgery reward." She chuckles. "Now that's the kind of thinking I can get behind. Have a word with Tony yeah?" I reply, feeling my spirits lift. "Ice cream sounds amazing. But what are the odds of that happening here?"

"Zero. But I'm prepared for this. I'll break you out of this place and take you for ice cream. You just need to give me the signal, and I'll burst in through the window like a stealthy ninja." She mimics a dramatic leap and landing in mama's pose. "See, I'll even do my best poser impersonation!" She playfully teases and she now starts to pretend to scale the invisible walls of my hospital room, her expression shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness. "You can count on me, Y/n. Ice cream shall be yours!"

I chuckle, the image of Yelena performing an acrobatic escape making the heaviness of the past days lift a little more. "What flavour are we talking here? I hope it's not vanilla. I have standards, you know."

"Vanilla? Please! I was thinking more along the lines of double chocolate fudge with extra sprinkles. And maybe a side of cherry sauce because why not go big, right?" She shares her thoughts whilst taking the seat next to me again. Her hand resting over mine. "Now you're speaking my language," I respond, shaking my head in mock seriousness. "If I'm risking a hospital breakout, it better be worth it." I laugh.

Yelena sits back in her seat, her chest still rising and falling as she laughs at her own hilariousness. She then looks back up at me. "But seriously, let's plan this for when you're feeling better. I'm not above a hospital escape." Her grin is contagious, and I can feel the tension in my shoulders easing. "Deal. Just don't forget the sprinkles."

As our laughter fills the room, I realize how much I've missed this lightness, this camaraderie. It's comforting to think about having Yelena by my side as I navigate the uncertainty of recovery and family dynamics.

But beneath the playful banter, there's an unspoken understanding between us, a bond that allows me to express my fears without words. With Yelena around, I feel like I can face whatever comes next, armed with humour and the knowledge that I'm not alone in this fight.

"Just promise me one thing," I say, my voice turning more serious again. "Anything," she replies, her gaze earnest. "Don't let me give up on the ice cream party, okay? No matter what happens."

"Never! I'll be your ice cream guardian," she declares, puffing out her chest with mock pride. "We will have that party, and it will be legendary. I will personally ensure that you have the sprinkles of life!"

With that promise hanging in the air, I know I can count on her not just for ice cream but for so much more as I navigate this complicated recovery. Even amidst the challenges, I feel a renewed sense of strength.

Though the playful atmosphere soon disappears as Yelena looks at me with a hurt look. "You know," Yelena begins cautiously, glancing around the room as if making sure no one else can hear, "I've been really worried about you. Seeing you like this. It's been hard. I didn't expect to walk in and see my Y/n looking so weak."

"Yeah, well, welcome to the aftermath of a bullet wound," I respond, a hint of sarcasm lacing my tone, but her expression remains sombre. "I mean it, Y/n," she says, her voice low. "I can handle all sorts of dangerous missions, but this... this was different. You're my niece. I've seen too many people get hurt, and it scares me to think about what could have happened if things went even more wrong."

"I know. I didn't want to worry you, but... it's not like I planned to get shot," I reply, my voice softening. "I was trying to do my best, and it went sideways."

"It's not your fault," Yelena reassures me, squeezing my hand gently. "But promise me you'll be careful. Don't rush back into missions. I can't go through this again. I thought I lost you."

"I'm not going anywhere yet. You've got me for a while longer," I say with a playful lilt, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Her smile falters, but she doesn't let go of my hand. "You have to promise me you won't get hurt again. I mean it. You don't have to be the hero all the time, you know." The gravity of her words sinks in, and I can feel a lump forming in my throat. "I thought I was doing well. I thought it was my chance to prove myself," I admit, my voice quieter now. "Prove yourself? You don't need to do that. You're already a part of this family," she insists, her voice firm but gentle.

But I can't shake the feeling of inadequacy, the bitter sting of doubt that lingers in the corners of my mind. "I don't feel like it," I confess, looking down at our hands intertwined. "Not after everything that's happened. My parents... I don't know. It's complicated." I begin tentatively, not sure how to express the turmoil inside me.

"They've hurt me for so long, and I'm still trying to wrap my head around why they suddenly seem to care. It feels like. I don't know, like they're trying to make up for lost time. They've been... around. Too around, if you know what I mean. They've been acting all concerned, but it feels more like an obligation."

I've felt torn about this since I've woke up. They're around all the time and trying to do everything that can to help me. But all I can think about is how much they have hurt me and if they would ever be able to make up for their past actions.

Yelena nods, her expression serious. "It's okay to be conflicted. They've done wrong by you, and you have every right to be angry. But if they're genuinely trying to change, maybe there's a chance for you to heal too." She suggests, similar to how Steve has these last two days.

"I don't want to forgive them just because they're here now. It feels disingenuous," I admit, frustration seeping into my voice. "I've been raised to believe that actions speak louder than words, and I need to see real change." I state irritated. "Then hold them to that standard," she urges, her voice steady. "Don't let them slide by just because they're your parents. You deserve more than that." She iterates.

"I guess I'm just afraid of being disappointed again," I whisper, feeling a shiver of vulnerability wash over me. It hurt so much when I slowly seemed to disappear from their lives. I don't think I could experience that again. "What if they go back to ignoring me once I'm healed? What's the point of this?" I share, tears stinging my eyes.

Yelena leans closer, her brow furrowing as she studies my face. "That's not fair to you. They hurt you, and it's okay to be angry about that. But you deserve to feel loved and cared for. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for." "Stronger?" I scoff lightly, but inside I feel a flicker of hope. "I barely survived my first mission and ended up in a hospital bed. That doesn't feel strong."

"Strength isn't just about fighting, Y/n. It's about surviving, too. You survived, and you're still here. You're still fighting." Her voice softens, and I can see her eyes glistening with tears. I nod slowly, her words resonating with me. "You're right. I just don't want to get hurt like that again. I thought joining SHIELD would mean I'd finally be seen, but now... it feels like a mess."

Yelena shakes her head, frustration evident in her expression. "No. You're not a mess. You're human. They need to step up and show you that you matter, but that doesn't mean you have to accept their love without question. You get to set the boundaries. You get to decide what you want from them moving forward. But I do believe that you have to give them a chance to show you that they've changed." She shares, taking me by surprise.

"It was years Yelena. How can I move to just forgive them for everything that's happened? Just because they're here for my recovery, doesn't mean it makes up for everything that they've done." I raise my voice getting frustrated that no one seems to understand the depth of how much this has affected me.

She thinks for a moment before speaking up. "I know I can't understand the pain they caused you. When I heard about what they did to you, I was ready to kick both of their asses. But I've seen this determination in them. Especially Nat. I just don't want you to let the anger eat you alive. You deserve more than that. You deserve to heal, not just physically, but emotionally, too." Her words resonate deep within me. I can feel the weight of my resentment pressing against my chest, threatening to suffocate me. "It's just hard, Yelena. I don't know if I can trust them again. What if they just go back to how things were?"

"That's the risk, but it's also a chance for something better. Maybe this could be the start of a new chapter for you all," she replies, her voice filled with hope. "I mean, how many people get a second chance to rewrite their story? You can make it count." She tries to reason with me. "Or I could just end up disappointed again," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey, no one said life was easy," she counters, leaning forward, her tone shifting to a playful challenge. "You've faced worse. You survived a bullet wound, for Christ's sake! How about you take that strength and channel it into something more positive? Like confronting your parents." She suggests. "Confront them?" I echo, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in my stomach.

"Yeah! You're a badass. You fought off those Hydra agents; you can fight for your own happiness." she encourages. "Don't let anyone else dictate your worth. Not your parents, not Hydra. No one."

"I'll think about it," I concede, knowing that deep down, she's right. Maybe facing my parents isn't just about them; it's about taking control of my own narrative, my own healing. "Good," Yelena replies, her smile brightening the room once more. "And remember, no matter what you decide, I'll be right here, cheering you on. We're in this together, ice cream and all."

As I gaze into her determined eyes, I feel the flicker of hope igniting within me. Yelena is right. I can't let the past dictate my future. Perhaps I can find a way to reclaim my voice, my choices. And with her by my side, I feel like I can face whatever comes next.

__________

The soft hum of the machines is a constant companion, a backdrop to the quiet conversation happening in the room. Mama and mom sit nearby, each offering their own version of silent support. Mama, with her usual calm demeanour, sits crossed legged in the chair near the foot of my bed. Her posture is relaxed, but her sharp eyes betray her constant vigilance. She notices everything, always has, and I can feel her observing me like she's looking for something beneath the surface. Mom on the other hand, has stationed herself at my side, like aways. She's less fussy, thankfully, but still has to be close, like I'm going to disappear if she's not.

Sometimes, I find the silence unbearable compared to their constant and sometimes suffocating fussing over me. I feel on edge, like they're waiting for me to talk to them. I think back to what Yelena said about confronting them and doing it on my terms. But I want to do it in the right frame of mind, and at the moment, this infection is still kicking my ass.

Mama breaks the silence as her well trained eyes watch me for a while. "How are you feeling Y/n?" She asks, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies me, as though she's trying to catch me out if I say the wrong thing. "A bit better." I respond with a slight nod, my words carefully measured. I don't want to give too much away. Not about how I'm feeling and especially not about the swirl of doubt that's been growing inside of me since the incident.

"Are you sure? You're sweating." She points out, sitting up. Mom goes to reach for my forehead, but quickly retreats her hand. She's been trying really hard not to be too much and I'm grateful for that. I should have known that she could see straight through me and notice the discomfort I'm in. "Just a little." I admit. "Is there anything we can do? Would you like some water? Or we could change the quilt for a blanket if that would help?" Mom suggests.

I think for a moment before giving in, knowing that I am burning up a little too quickly. "The blanket would be better if that's ok." I respond, earning a warm smile from mom as she stands and moves to grab the blanket as mama takes the quilt and folds it up. "Better?" Mom asks as the thin blanket now rests over my legs. "Yes. Thank you." I quietly respond.

"You're being strong, but you don't have to be." Mom says, her voice soft but persuasive. Her green eyes watching me too closely. "We're here for you." She states. Something I've heard more these last few days than I have in my whole like.

I offer a tight smile. "I appreciate that." I reply, but there's something hollow in my words, something they both notice. I see it in the flicker of mama's eyes, in the slight frown mom tries to hide. They want me to let them in, to trust them. But I can't. No right now.

The knock on the door interrupts the thick atmosphere. As we all look to the door, a smile grows on my face as Yelena pushes open the door, bursting in to the room with her usual energy. Her blonde hair bounces around her shoulders as she strides in, a smirk on her lips. She's a welcome distraction from the unspoken suspicions swirling in my mind.

Behind her, there's someone new. A brunette with wide eyes and a slightly awkward smile follows in her wake, holding a small bouquet of flowers in her hands. It's clear she doesn't quite know what to do with them as she shifts nervously, standing next to Yelena like she's trying to figure out how to fit in. "This is Kate." Yelena says with a grin, motioning to the brunette with a flourish. "Oh, right. The annoying stray Clint picked up." I reply with a grin, my eyes flicking between Yelena and the new girl. I feel a small flutter of nerves in my chest, but I push it aside, trying to appear casual.

Kate gasps dramatically, placing her hand over her chest as if wounded. "Annoying stray? Really? Is that how Yelena described me?" She shoots Yelena a mocking glare, then turns to me with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "Don't listen to her. I'm delightful, I promise." She smirks.

There is something instantly disarming about her. Her smile is infectious, and I find myself grinning back before I can stop myself. "I'll be the judge of that." I say, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Kate's laugh is light. "Well, I guess I better make a good impression then huh. I'm Kate. Nice to finally meet you."

As if she suddenly becomes aware of the other two people in the room, Kate suddenly becomes a lot more nervous as she steps forward, holding out the flowers a little awkwardly. "I, uh, thought some flowers might brighten up the place." She says her voice light but tinged with nervousness. "If you don't like them, I can... I don't know, take them back or something."

I can't help but smile at the sudden awkwardness, feeling some of the tension ease from my shoulders. There's something captivating about her, a clumsy sincerity that feels genuine. Like she's not trying to be anything other than who she is. If's refreshing, in contrast to the more guarded and calculated vibes in the room.

"No, no. They're nice. I love them." I say, accepting the flowers with a smile. "Thank you." I say gratefully. Mom steps in to help, taking the flowers from Kate and placing them on the beside table. She flashes Kate a smile, but I can't help but notice the way her eyes flick between me and Kate, like she's sizing up the interaction. Her protective nature is sweet, but right now it feels like an intrusion, like she's watching too closely.

Yelena of course, can't let the moment go without making it awkward. "Oh great. The two of you are already making goo-goo eyes at each other." She says with a snort, dropping herself into a chair next to mama with a dramatic sigh. "I should have seen this coming." She says to her sister. "Goo-goo eyes?" I sputter, my cheeks burning. "Yelena, we literally just met." Kate for her part, looks just as flustered, running a hand through her hair as she laughs awkwardly. "Yeah wow, not even five minutes in and I'm already being roasted. Thanks Yelena." Yelena has a mischievous grin as she gives Kate a thumbs up. "Hey, I call it like I see it." She shrugs.

I glance at Kate again, and despite the teasing, there's something about her that puts me at ease. Something feels unguarded in a way that I haven't felt around my parents lately. She seems real, no hidden motives, no unreadable layers. Just Kate, awkward and charming in her own way.

Mama raises an eyebrow at Yelena's comment but stays quiet, observing as always. Mom though let's out a soft chuckle, her eyes softening for a moment as she looks between Kate and me. "I think it's sweet." She says, but there's an undercurrent to her words. A subtle probing as if she's gauging how close I'm willing to let this new person get.

I shift uncomfortably in my bed, trying to shake off the unease. "Kate seems nice." I say, trying to keep things light. "But you don't need to start planning a wedding already." I joke, earning a loud laugh from Kate.

Yelena leans back in her chair, a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, you're already doing better than most people who meet Y/n. She doesn't usually warm up to strangers this fast."

"Yelena." I mutter, shooting her a look, but the playful banter is enough to make me feel a bit more like myself again. Even if the tension with my parents still lingers beneath the surface.

Mama exchanges a glance with mom, and I can feel the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They're both protective, maybe even a little suspicious of the new dynamic. I know they're trying to look out for me, but their watchful eyes feel too heavy right now and to be honest, they don't have the right to have any thoughts on this right now. They've barely been my parents for the last couple of years. They don't suddenly have a say in who I'm friends with.

"Well, at least you brought someone who isn't here to lecture me about being shot." I tease, giving Yelena a pointed look. Kate grins clearly relieved the conversation has shifted. "I'm just here for the heist planning." She smiles, her tone light. "Whatever Yelena has you roped into, I'm in." I join in the joke. Yelena perks up at that. "Oh, you have no idea what you've signed up for Bishop. This one here," she jerks her thumb at me, "has a history with getting into trouble."

Kate moves to take the seat next to me as both my parents decide to give us some space and grab some lunch. I'm grateful for them being able to read the room, but I notice the observant and narrow gaze of mama as she passes by Kate. I'm pretty sure I see Kate gulp a little which makes me laugh lightly.

"So," Kate asks, crossing her arms. "what's the plan for today? Ice cream, hospital jailbreak or maybe both?" She smiles, making the butterflies in my stomach flutter. "Oh, Yelena's already promised me ice cream, but she keeps postponing the jailbreak." I tease, glancing over at Yelena who's pretending not to listen.

Kate lets out a dramatic sigh, shaking her head. "Typical. She makes all these grand promises, and then when it comes time to actually execute..." Kate starts teasingly before Yelena speaks up. "I'm literally right here." She complains, throwing her hands up in mock exasperation. "And for the record. I would have busted you out, but your mother threatened to remove all the mac and cheese from the building if I did." She admits with a child like huff.

"Still scared of mama huh?" I smirk, earning a harsh stare from my aunt. "No!" She defends loudly. "Well, maybe when it comes down to you." She admits quietly, making Kate and I laugh. "Well, well. I've finally discovered the one thing Yelena Belova is scared of." Kate torments Yelena. "Yeah, well don't forget that you're the one scared of me." Yelena points out giving her fiercest glare. Something that makes Kate shrink back into her seat. "Yep. You're right. Sorry." She apologises goofily, making me smile even wider.

There's a beat of silence, but it's not awkward. It's easy, comfortable, and I'm surprised at how quickly I've warmed up to Kate. She's sharp, funny and there's a confidence about her that makes me feel more at ease. I can tell she's someone who doesn't take life too seriously, but there's a genuine warmth underneath the sarcasm.

Yelena is watching us again, her arms crossed, and her eyebrow arched like she's trying to figure out how this is going to play out. "You know, I might actually enjoy watching this." She says, her voice laced with amusement. "You two are way too cute. It's like watching a rom-com in real time." She smirks

"Okay, enough of that." I say quickly, feeling my face begin to flush, this time not due to my infection! I glance to Kate who is grinning like she's in on some joke that I'm not, and I can't help but laugh. "Yelena, don't you have some Widow business to attend to?" I question hopefully. "Nope." She says cheerfully, popping the 'p' for emphasis. "I'm on babysitting duty today." She smiles proudly whilst I just roll my eyes. Maybe I do want my parents back right now!

Kate leans closer to me, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Does she always talk like that, or is it just for us?" She questions. "Always." I whisper back, earning a glare from Yelena. "Alright, alright." Yelena says, pretending to be offended, but her eyes twinkle with amusement. "I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll give you two some space. Try not to flirt too much while I'm gone." She teases.

"And you," she stops in front of Kate, a stern look on her face. "If she so much as flinches you call the nurse. I will have your head if anything happens to her." She warns her lowly. Kate just nods, gulping at the threat. "P-promise." She stutters. "Good. Text me if you need anything. Now have fun being all awkward and flirty." She smirks as she saunters out of the room.

Suddenly, it's just the two of us, the room quieter but still filled with that easy, playful energy. I glance over at Kate, feeling a bit of awkwardness settle in. But it's the good kind that makes my heart race a little.

"So, what now?" I ask, trying to sound casual? Kate shrugs, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I don't know. I mean, we could plot that jailbreak. Or maybe..." She pauses, her eyes meeting mine. "We could just hang out and get to know each other a little better." She suggests.

There's a warmth in her gaze, something that makes my heart flutter, and for the first time in a while, I feel a sense of excitement. Not just for the ice cream or the jokes, but the possibility of something new. Something good. And maybe, just maybe, I'm ready for it.

Nat's POV:

My sharp eyes have always picked up on the subtle shift in a person's demeanour, the tiniest details that others overlook. Right now, I'm studying Kate Bishop. She's awkward sure. A little too wide-eyed and jittery, holding onto those flowers like she's afraid they might combust. There's a clumsy sincerity to her that I can't decide if I trust yet. Y/n though... Y/n is smiling. Laughing even, and I haven't seen that kind of lightness in her face in far too long. Still, I remain cautious.

I watch as Y/n teases Kate, the easy flow of their banter rolling off Y/n's tongue without the weight that usually accompanies her words. It's almost as if she's forgotten, if only for a few minutes, about the turmoil she's been going through. And while I want that for her, there's a part of me that can't let go of my protective instincts. That part that wants to dig deeper into who Kate Bishop really is, figure out if she's worthy of my daughter's trust.

Because Y/n doesn't let people in easily. Wanda and I have made that even harder for her now. To be able to trust is a difficult thing. I don't want to see her hurt more than she currently is. Not after everything that I've caused.

Wanda's voice pulls me out of my thoughts as she steps up beside me, her arms crossed but her expression soft, watching the interaction with a gentler gaze than I have. "She looks happy." Wanda murmurs. Her voice has that quiet thoughtful tone that always means she's been observing the situation for longer than I realised.

I nod, though I don't take my eyes off of Y/n. "She does." I admit reluctantly. Wanda notices this and quickly makes up an excuse of going to get some lunch and we quickly exit the room. Probably much to Y/n's delight!

"You don't like it?" Wanda asks, her lips twitching into a small smile. She can read me too easily, knows exactly what I'm feeling even when I try to keep it to myself. We hover in the corridor outside of Y/n's room as I sigh. "I didn't say that." I glance towards my wife, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I know you." She chuckles softly, and it's a warm, comforting sound that cuts through the tension I've been holding in my chest. "Nat, you don't trust her yet." It's not a question, and I don't answer right away. Instead, I look back through the window into Y/n's room. My eyes falling to the pair of them. Y/n has leaned a little closer to Kate, her laughter soft, her smile genuine. Kate's making some grand gesture with her hands, her enthusiasm endearing in its awkwardness. Okay, I think. Maybe she's not so bad.

But still. "I just don't know her." I say finally, my voice low. Wanda hums in understanding, her gaze never leaving Y/n. "But look at her, Nat. She's the happiest we've seen her in a long while." She points out. I know she's right. Y/n hasn't had this kind of lightness in her eyes since the incident. Even in the days leading up to it, she was closed off, burdened by the trauma we had caused her. I couldn't do anything to help her, I couldn't fix what I had broken. And now here comes this Kate Bishop, breezing in like a ray of sunshine, making Y/n smile like it's the easiest thing in the world.

I sigh, crossing my arms tighter over my chest. "Maybe." I admit after a pause, my voice quieter now, more reflective. "Maybe Kate is what Y/n needs right now." Wanda turns her head to look at me fully, a surprised look on her face, but she soon gives me a soft knowing smile. "That's not easy for you to say."

"No, it's not." I say honestly. "But I can't ignore how she's acting. It's good to see her like this." I glance to Yelena who's still grinning like a proud instigator of all this chaos. Y/n has her laughing too, which is aways a good sign. "And Kate, she's not what I expected." I share.

There's an awkward clumsiness about the girl sure. But underneath that, there's a kindness in her eyes, something genuine that makes me reconsider my initial assessment. She's not just some reckless kid, despite the reputation. She cares and that means something.

Wanda places a gentle hand on my arm, squeezing lightly. "It's ok to let your guard down a little." I chuckle under my breath at her words. "I don't think I'm wired that way, Wanda." I reply. "I know." She laughs softly. "But maybe you can try. Kate isn't here to hurt Y/n. She's just, being a friend. Maybe that's exactly what Y/n needs right now." I nod, though my instincts still bristle at the idea of lowering my walls completely. "You're right. But I'm not going to stop being protective. Not after we failed her so badly." My gaze hardens just a fraction. "I can't."

Wanda's expression softens further, understanding in her eyes. "No one's asking you to stop protecting her Nat. Just, give this a chance. What ever it might be." She pleads. I look at Y/n again. She's relaxed in a way I haven't seen her in months. The tightness in her shoulders is gone, replaced by something lighter, freer. And I realise that I'm not the only one trying to protect her. Maybe, in her own way, Kate is too.

"I'll give it a chance." I mutter quietly. "But I'll be watching." Wanda smiles knowingly. "I wouldn't expect anything less." She says as both our gazes fall to our daughter. Just then, Kate says something that makes Y/n burst out laughing, the sound so full of life that it catches me off guard. My heart clenches that it's taken this long. That Wanda and I created an environment where she felt like she no longer belonged in this family.

I know it's going to take time for her to even consider forgiving us. But I know that it's important that she has other people around her that she can talk to and have fun with. If it's just Wanda and me she'll become completely closed off. Maybe being around Kate is exactly what she needs. It doesn't mean I'll let my guard down completely. Not yet. I will always protect her. That's what mother's do. Even if I haven't proven my right to that title in a long time.

_________

As Wanda and I step back into our home, the familiar chaos of our boys welcomes us like a warm embrace. The scent of something sweet wafts through the air, mixing with the sharp, clean smell of wood polish from our recent cleaning efforts. I can hear the muffled sounds of laughter and playful shouting emanating from the living room, and it brings a smile to my face despite the heaviness still clinging to my heart.

Tommy and Billy have been asking about their sister non-stop over the last few days, and every time, I see the worry deepen in their little faces. They've felt the weight of Y/n's absences as much as we have, maybe more.

"Hey, you two!" I call out, my voice breaking through the din. Almost immediately, Tommy and Billy come barrelling into the hallway, their faces lighting up like it's Christmas morning. They launch themselves at us, wrapping their arms around my waist and Wanda's legs in a tangle of limbs and giggles. It's a comforting noise, one that momentarily pulls me away from the weight of the world outside these walls.

"Mom! Mom! How's Y/n? Is she okay?" Tommy's voice rises with excitement, his wide eyes sparkling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. I exchange a glance with Wanda, who stands beside me, her own expression tinged with a protective softness. It's a moment like this that reminds me just how much the boys adore their sister.

"She's still unwell, sweetheart," I say gently, kneeling down to meet Tommy's gaze at eye level. "But she's doing better than she was. She'll be home soon." I try to sound optimistic, but the knot in my stomach betrays me. I know how much they want to see Y/n, and how hard it's been for them to understand why she isn't here with us.

"Soon? Like tomorrow?" Billy asks, bouncing on his toes, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. There's a slight hopefulness in his voice, and it makes my heart ache, knowing they're so eager for good news. Wanda steps in beside me, placing a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her touch gentle and reassuring. "She's going to need a few more days in the hospital, honey. She's got to rest and get better first." I watch the way Wanda's eyes soften when she speaks to the boys, how she has an innate ability to make even the hardest truths sound a little lighter.

"But her birthday is coming up!" Tommy exclaims suddenly, his expression shifting from concern to realization. "We have to make it special for her! Can we plan a perfect birthday for her in her hospital room?" His enthusiasm is infectious, and a flicker of warmth spreads in my chest at his determination. Billy nods vigorously, his face lighting up with ideas. "Yeah! We can decorate it and bring her cake! She'll love that!" The energy in the room shifts, and I can see both boys imagining the decorations they might hang, the cake they might bake, and the joy they hope to bring their sister.

"That's a great idea," I agree, feeling a swell of pride as I watch them brainstorm. "But we need to wait until she's feeling a bit better, okay? We don't want to overwhelm her." Tommy frowns slightly, his brow furrowing in thought. "When can we see her?" His voice is earnest, full of longing. I can hear the worry tucked beneath his words, and it tugs at my heart. "Yeah, we want to see Y/n!" Billy adds, his expression mirroring his brother's eagerness.

Wanda glances at me, and I can feel the weight of our responsibilities bearing down. "We'll take you to see her in the morning," I promise, seeing their faces light up with hope. "But remember, she might be tired and need to rest, so we have to be gentle with her."

"Yay!" Tommy cheers, his voice ringing through the hallway, and Billy joins in, practically bouncing on his heels with excitement. Their joy is palpable, a reminder of the happiness that can still exist even amidst uncertainty and pain.

Just then, Steve steps out from the kitchen, having been quietly observing the boys from a distance. His presence brings a calmness to the chaos, and I find comfort in knowing he's here. "Hey, how are you two doing?" he asks, his eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene of our little family reunion.

"Mama and mom just told us that Y/n is coming home soon!" Tommy exclaims, practically vibrating with excitement, his hands flailing as he gestures animatedly.

"Yeah, and we're planning the best birthday for her ever!" Billy adds, his voice bubbling over with enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with energy.

"Sounds like you're all set for a celebration," Steve says with a smile, nodding approvingly. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms as he watches the boys with fondness. "I'll leave you to it. Just let me know if you need anything." He shoots us a knowing look, one that acknowledges the weight of what we're dealing with, before stepping back into the kitchen.

As Wanda and I stand there, our boys filled with excitable plans, I can't help but feel a mix of gratitude and dread. Gratitude for the moments of joy, the laughter that fills our home, and the love that binds us together. Sadness that our family isn't complete and dread for the challenges still ahead. We're still on shaky ground, still trying to piece together the remnants of our family after everything that's happened.

But for now, I push those worries aside. I take a deep breath, inhaling the comforting scent of our home, and look around at the smiling faces of my children. "Okay, let's start planning for this birthday celebration!" I suggest, my heart lifting at the idea of planning something special for Y/n.

"We need balloons. And streamers!" Tommy states excitedly, his eyes bright with ideas. "And cake!" Billy insists, his mouth already watering at the thought. "What kind should we get her?"

As we brainstorm, I can't help but smile. We'll take this one step at a time. Tomorrow, we'll bring the boys to see Y/n, and hopefully, we'll be one step closer to bringing her home where she belongs. Hopefully, she'll see that we plan to be the best parents to her and in time she'll forgive us. I feel a flicker of hope, ignited by the boys' excitement and determination to make their sister smile, to show her that she is loved and missed.

"Let's get started," I say, my voice full of warmth as I gather them into a huddle, my heart swelling with pride. Together, we can do this. Together, we can find a way to help Y/n heal, and maybe even begin to mend the cracks that have formed in our family.

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