#I just want more soft moments between these two

[scribes-of-valar]

𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝐴𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐵𝑜𝑦

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| ᴄʟᴀʀᴋ ᴋᴇɴᴛ x fem! reader

A/N: I watched maybe two seasons of this show last year and kind of moved past it. I randomly got a Clark Kent fic on my feed last night and suddenly I have a demon in my brain telling me to write. Anyway, there is a horrendous lack of full fledged, non-smut fics for this man, so, here you go.

Summary: Your friend has been distant for months, all of a sudden he's a brand new man. He's practically a puppy dog following after you and you're not sure how to feel. What's a girl to do when she suddenly finds herself looking at not one, but two Clark Kent's?

“Have any plans?” You pull your English book from your locker, fingers stilling as you wait for Clark to respond. Silence stretches between you, long enough to make your brows furrow in confusion. Peering around the edge of your locker door with narrowed eyes, you let out a sigh. 

You should have seen this coming. As always, Clark is staring at Lana from across the hall, looking like he walked straight out of a sappy romance movie. 

She’s close, so close, but entirely out of his reach. She laughs, tucking a perfect, shiny strand of hair behind her ear, completely unaware of the way Clark pines for her. Always pining. Always looking at her like she’s the only girl in the world. 

You could gag. 

Slamming your locker shut, perhaps harder than necessary, you break Clark out of his trance as he flinches away from the noise. His head snaps toward you, blue eyes narrowed on the irritated scrunch of your face. You smile, forcing the snark out of your expression. 

“Did you say something?” His voice is kind, expression open, as though he’s finally ready to listen. But the bell rings, cutting into the moment. You only have a minute to sprint to the other side of school. 

“No,” you sigh, forcing the stilted smile to stay on your face, “I gotta go.”

“I’ll walk with you,” he offers, falling into step beside you. “That way you can tell me what you actually said,” he teases, giving you that familiar boyish grin that never fails to make you unravel. 

You bite your tongue for a moment, mind unraveling as you struggle with telling him the truth or not. This is stupid. He’s Clark, your best friend. Your stupid, oblivious, beautiful best friend. But the way he looks at you, soft and warm as he slows his stride so he can walk together a little longer. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to ask. 

No. It will definitely still hurt. 

“Would you want to do something this weekend?” You rush it all out at once and immediately look away from him, terrified by what you might see on his face. 

There’s a beat of silence. Then Clark laughs, light and easy. Your stomach twists and your head shoots up, a disbelieving glare on your face. You’d known it would be unlikely that he’d return your feelings, but laughing seems below him. 

“Why’re you being so weird?” He shakes his head, still grinning. “We’ll just do a movie night like always.” He squeezes your shoulder, casual, friendly, a wholly innocent gesture. Nothing more and nothing different. It’s completely platonic to him, as it always is. It takes you a moment to realize that he took what you were saying the wrong way. Or, maybe this is just the gentlest way he knows how to let you down. 

“Right,” you struggle to keep your voice even but it doesn’t matter, the dejection slips through your tone. His smile falters slightly and he looks like he wants to say something when the shrill ring of the bell interrupts you both.

“I’ll see you later,” he offers but he sounds uncertain. Most of your plans have fallen through lately. Either because he was busy with Lana or off disappearing somewhere. You’re not sure, but you know the divide is growing larger between you both and you’re getting scared you’re going to lose him. 

“Sure,” you give him a flat smile and he hovers beside you for a moment, like he wants to fix this but doesn’t know how. 

“You’re going to be late,” you startle slightly and glance over your shoulder. Blake, a boy you share your English class with offers you a shy smile as he hovers by the door, holding it open for you to walk through.  

“Thanks,” you walk past them both and into class, not wanting to look at Clark any longer. You miss the sharp look Blake shoots Clark and the way your friend lingers by the door for a minute before rushing off to his own class. 

You slide into your seat, lucky to have gotten in before Mrs. Brown, lord knows she would love to make a spectacle of anyone being tardy. Blake follows not far behind you, slipping into the seat beside you as always. He’s nice enough, quiet, unassuming. You’ve never said more than a few words to each other, but right now all of his attention seems to be on you. 

He whispers your name and you give him a brief glance and smile, mind still wrapped up in Clark. “Um, I was going to ask,” he stutters over his words for a moment, swallowing thickly before finally meeting your eye. “Are you doing anything this weekend?”

“Yeah,” you answer absentmindedly. “I have plans with Clark,” you tell him shortly as Mrs. Brown walks in. You don’t have time to explain that you’ll probably just end up waiting around your house all weekend. Just to get a brief and incomprehensible explanation of why you were all alone on Monday. 

He sinks back in his seat with a sigh just as the teacher begins writing the assignment on the board. You shoot him a slightly concerned look before brushing the interaction off as nothing.

Standing in the line at The Talon has become almost a hobby for you. Not just because Clark drags you here constantly, but because he distracts Lana from actually taking any orders. The wait time seems to triple every time he walks into the shop. You hear people grumbling behind you and finally move toward Clark, breaking the unspoken rule of leaving him and Lana alone. 

“There’s a line, Clark,” you sing-song, warning him. The both of them flush, breaking their hushed conversation and shooting you a sheepish look. 

“I’m sorry,” Lana apologizes and you wave her off. “Do you want anything?” 

You’d been considering getting a muffin, but when you look over and see the lovesick smile Clark is giving her, you find your appetite has disappeared. “Uh, no, I’m good.”

Clark turns toward you with a soft frown and he nearly makes you forget just how much you resent him for dragging you along to see this. “I thought you were hungry.”

You glance back at Lana and find her eyes already on him. God, what’s the point of a breakup if you’re still obsessed with each other? “No, it’s alright.”

You move away from the counter to step outside, expecting him to stay there and continue flirting despite the angry customers behind them. You’re surprised when you hear his voice immediately beside you. 

“Hey,” he moves away from the door, a grin on his face. Face wrinkling in confusion, you nod your head in greeting even though you’d just seen him. Your eyes narrow in on the leather of his jacket and your head tilts in confusion. You swear he was wearing a zip up a moment ago. “What’re you doing?” He asks, tone light as he stands beside you closer than he normally would. 

“Uh,” you’re tempted to glance over your shoulder and make sure he isn’t still standing in The Talon. “Did you hit your head?” He flushes slightly and you laugh. “Just our usual friday endeavors, you moon over Lana and I hold back the mob of angry customers who just want a coffee.” Laughing to ease some of your own tension, it trails off when you see the smile drop from his face. 

His eyes narrow and he glances toward the shop, “Idiot,” he mutters. You shoot him an affronted look and he blanches, quickly correcting himself. “Me, not you.” You want to question him further but he slings an arm over your shoulder and redirects you away from the shop. Mind a blank slate, you feel your brain break slightly at the simple touch. 

When you were younger, before Lana, before either of you even knew what crushes were, something like this would mean nothing to you. As it is, though, your friendship seems to have dwindled to nothing but compulsory hangouts and the occasional conversation in the hallway. Something as simple as his arm around you has turned into everything for you. 

“So, what are we doing tonight?” 

“Movies at your place, like usual,” you remind him. He must have slipped and hit his head on the way out of The Talon.  Either that, or he already forgot the plans you made just this morning. Neither would surprise you. 

His face screws up and he shakes his head, “God, that’s lame.” You scoff, shooting him an odd look, not bothering to remind him that it was his idea. “I mean what’s he-” 

Clark cuts himself off, glancing down at you before letting out a short laugh. “How ‘bout the fair?”

You reach up and press the back of your hand to his forehead. He gives you a bewildered laugh, taking your hand in his and grinning. “What are you doing?”

You lean back slightly, breathless at the awestruck way he’s looking at you. You’ve only ever seen him look at…

Lana, you’ve only ever seen a look like this directed at Lana. But now, those deep blue eyes are pulling you in and you feel helpless to fight them. You swallow hard, blinking while you try to remember what you were even going to say. 

“Uh,” licking your lips you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement. “I was seeing if you had a fever. Since when do you want to go out?” 

He laces your fingers together and tugs you forward, “Since now.” 

Usually, you’re not so quick to look a gift horse in the mouth. Months, you’ve been praying he treats you with even a semblance of care he throws toward Lana. Now, you finally get it and you can’t help the sick tightening feeling in your stomach telling you this is all wrong.

The fair is less crowded than you had expected. Though, it is nearly the last day it’s in town, you suppose everyone’s already had their fill of it. You have been trying to get Clark to come with you for nearly a week, maybe this is why he had waited so long to join you. Some of the rides you actually got all to yourself. 

“You know these things are rigged,” you tease, watching as he tries and fails at the bottle toss for the third time. The bored teenage girl behind the booth briefly glances up from her book to glare at you both. You shoot her a sardonic smile and she turns to Clark. 

“You can just buy the stuffed animal, ya know?” She drawls. 

“That’s cheating-”

“Where’s the fun in that-”

You and Clark share a grin as you speak over each other. The girl pales at your joined voices and returns quickly to her book, muttering something about annoying couples. 

Your stomach flutters at the idea of you and Clark as a couple but you push it down. “Alright,” Clark chuckles and holds his arm out for you, “let’s get out of here.”

You slip your arm through his easily, smiling up at him. You’ve long since stopped questioning just how touchy he is. Clearly, he’s in a generous mood tonight and you feel like taking advantage of that as much as possible.

“Where to next?” He asks and your eyes crawl across the fairground, struggling to find something you haven’t already done. 

You toss what must be your third lemonade in the closest bin and shoot him a sheepish smile. “I think I’ll need to go to the bathroom before we do any more rides.”

He’s slow to let you go, hand drifting down to hold yours as he steps back. “I’ll wait by the ferris wheel,” he tells you lowly. 

Your cheeks flush, eyes widening slightly as you slip away from him. The ferris wheel is notorious among Smallville students as the place to make a move. Everyone knows it’s just couples that ride up in those rickety old cars. Still, Clark is slightly oblivious to stuff like that. You don’t want to get your hopes up just for it to ultimately be nothing more than a friendly outing. 

Rushing toward the sad group of Port-a-potties you let out an annoyed sigh when you see the long line awaiting you. Your foot bounces against the dirt impatiently as you peer around the girl in front of you just to see there has to be, at least, ten people before you. 

There’s a vibration in your pocket before you hear the shrill ringing of your Nokia. Digging it out of your jeans you answer without checking the contact. “Hello?” The girl in front of you shoots you a dirty look and you take a step back from her. 

“Hey, where’re you?” You frown at the sound of Clark’s voice, glancing around like you might be able to spot him in the crowd. You’d told him where you were going, why would he be calling?

“You know where I am,” you tell him, chuckling. 

There’s a slight huff on the other end and you frown, he almost sounds disappointed. “What are you talking about? We were supposed to watch movies tonight.”

“Okay, Clark, I’m officially concerned. You’ve been acting weird all day. We’re at the fair,” you say slowly, over-enunciating your words like he’s slow. “You said movies were going to be lame.”

There’s a long pause and he utters your name in a concerningly serious tone. “The person you’re with-”

“Alright, do you mind?” The girl in front of you whips around and snaps at you. Blanching, you lower the phone from your ear and she shoots you an incredibly dirty look. 

“Clark, I’ll see you in a few minutes,” you whisper into the phone. 

“Wait-” 

You cut him off, hanging up and shoving your phone in your back pocket. She turns back around and rolls her eyes. It doesn’t take long for your Nokia to start ringing again but you figure you’ll just meet Clark by the ferris wheel like he said. 

Low groaning drifts through the noises of the crowd and makes you pause. Tilting your head around the corner of a trailer, the sounds only grow louder. Everything inside you says not to investigate, but the person sounds like they’re genuinely in pain. You can’t just walk away. 

“Hey,” you call out softly. “Are you okay?”

There’s no response and you take a hesitant step closer. A scuffed white converse slips from behind the back of the trailer and it looks worryingly similar to Clark’s. “Clark?” You call out, creeping a little further into the dark. 

It’s like a cocoon of silence back here, as though the shadows swallow the voices and loud cheering sounds of the games beyond you. “No,” the small voice croaks out. You see a hand in the dirt and they begin dragging themselves forward. You jump back a step, heart picking up as you watch them get to their feet. 

This was a stupid idea, walking toward a stranger in the dark. Even in Smallville you couldn’t trust everyone. They finally turn and you let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Blake, hey.”

He gives you a weak grimace, clutching his stomach like he’s in pain. “Hi.”

“Are you okay?” You ask, taking a step closer to him, trying to get a better look. 

“Fine, fine,” he stutters out, shifting just enough to keep his face half-hidden in the shadows.  Even knowing the person lurking within the shadows, you still feel slightly on edge. Something about the way he moves unsettles you. It’s not as though you know him well, he’s just a classmate. Someone quiet and harmless. Or, you hope he’s harmless, right now there’s something about him that feels wrong.

“Alright, um, if you’re sure,” you take a careful step backward. Your foot’s barely back on the ground when he lunges forward. His hands stretch toward you like he’s about to snatch you into the shadows with him. You’re stuck deciding whether you’re going to scream or bite him when he jerks back like a puppet being yanked on a string.  

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurts out, breathless. “Clark walked by. He- he told me to tell you he was leaving.”

Your stomach twists with panic. Right now you care more about not getting your throat slit in a dark alley than you do about Clark ditching you. Without a second thought, you turn on your heel and run out from between the trailers. You swear you hear footsteps, quick and light, following your path to the cars. 

Sliding into your car, you lock your doors and peel out of the lot. You leave the fair, and whatever just happened, behind, not looking back. The phone in your pocket vibrates again but you ignore it, too freaked out by what just happened to bother answering.  

Someone calls your name and you peer around the edge of your locker door, grimacing when you see Blake walking toward you. His brown hair is a mess, like he’s been fussing with it all morning, and his thick glasses, normally perched precariously on his nose, are nowhere to be seen. His normal polished clothes look like they’re three sizes too big and you frown.  

“Hey,” you drag the word out, trying to sound polite even if his outburst last night left you feeling incredibly unsettled. “Feeling any better?” You hesitate to meet his eyes, and when you do, your annoyance only deepens. 

He’s watching you expectantly, like he’s waiting for something. 

“Did you need anything?” You ask, voice trailing off as you close your locker and take two deliberate steps back. 

Blake’s brows furrow and he almost looks hurt before his expression smooths over into something startling unreadable. “Um, no, I’m sorry,” his gaze drifts past you. The color drains from his face and you barely have a second to process the oddity of this conversation before he turns on his heel and goes barrelling down the hall.

“Hey,” Clark’s familiar voice cuts through your confusion, and you turn to see him striding toward you. Gone is the easy, playful grin he wore last night. He looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him, intent on something. “We need to talk,” he tells you, tone grave. 

“I know,” you snipe, not bothering to hide your irritation at just leaving you alone at the fair last night. You aren’t surprised, he’s been doing that for weeks now. What stings is that, for a little while, you had felt like you were actually friends again, only for him to ruin it. 

His brow furrows and he glances around the empty hallway with a frown. “Look, we can’t talk here, but-”

The warning bell rings, cutting him off. “Shit,” you mutter, shoving your books into your bag and turning away from Clark. He calls your name but you wave him off. “Later, Clark, I can’t be late again.” He watches you go with a frown, running a hand through his hair before turning toward his own class. 

Not even ten minutes later you spot him walking past Mrs. Brown’s room. Though, you swear he was wearing a red shirt not a green one. You could be wrong, it’s not as if you had long to take in his outfit.

You figure he’s just passing by and go back to taking your notes. There’s a light hiss from the door and you frown, looking up to see him hovering in the doorway and waving you forward. You glare toward Mrs. Brown’s back and shake your head. No way, you mouth. 

Clark gives you a pleading look, frowning and motioning you forward again. You know that look, you’ve been on the receiving end of it for years now. He’s clearly not going to let go of whatever  he was badgering you about this morning. 

“Can I go to the bathroom?” You call out, not bothering raising your hand. The old bat’s half-blind, you doubt she’d see it anyway. 

She answers without even bothering to turn around and face you. “If you need to use the restroom, you do so before my class,” her shaky voice calls out with a huff. 

You roll your eyes and grab your bag, stuffing your books in it as she turns back to the board. There’s no point in arguing with her, she’s never going to give in. You wait until she drops her eraser. The second she bends over to grab it, you’re bolting toward the door. Clark grabs your arm, dragging you behind him.

He makes a break for the end of the hall, blowing past the geometry class he’s meant to be in. He busts through the school doors and leads you quickly through the courtyard. “Clark,” you hiss, trying to hold back a laugh at the stupid grin on his face. “What the hell is going on with you today?”

He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes alight with mischief, “Come on, you can’t tell me you actually want to listen to her rambling on about Shakespeare for an hour.”

You can’t argue with that, but he hasn’t done a jail bust for you in a while. Especially not during one of the few classes he shares with Lana. “No, I didn’t,” you pause as you realize he’s leading you to your car and not his truck. “Am I driving?”

“Truck didn’t start this morning,” he tells you shortly, not bothering with any further explanation. You swear you saw him drive in this morning but you could be wrong. It’s not like he’s the only kid driving his dad’s old busted truck in this town. “I’ll drive, though, you won’t know where we’re going.”

“Ominous,” you snark as he takes your hand in his, directing you toward the passenger door. Gentle hands push you up against the side of the car and he ducks down, leaning into your space. You crane your neck up, flushing slightly at the proximity. Any closer and you could kiss him. 

“Well?” He questions softly, lips curling up in a half-smile that makes you want to melt. You blink, forgetting what you were doing before you notice his outstretched, open, palm. Swallowing thickly you take your keys out of your bag and place them in his hand. “Thanks,” he ducks down, soft lips pressed against your cheek before rounding the front of the car. 

Your hand drifts toward your cheek, a bewildered smile on your face as you try and regulate your breathing. “What the hell?” You mutter, shaking your head slightly. Turning around, you open the car door and slip into the passenger seat. 

Clark greets you with a grin, scooping your hand up in his as he pulls out of the school parking lot. You don’t want to think about the trouble you’re going to be in tomorrow, all you can focus on is how good Clark’s hand feels in yours. 

“I’m really starting to feel like I’m getting kidnapped,” you joke, head tilting to look out the window. The golden fields stretch endlessly, rolling past in waves as the car gets further from town. Houses become scarce, replaced by sprawling farmland and grazing cattle. The further you go, the more isolated you feel. 

Clark chuckles, but there’s something off about the sound, a slight wheeze, a strain where there wasn’t before. His face crumples and he turns away from you, his knuckles turn white around the steering wheel from his tight grip. 

“Are you okay?” You reach instinctively toward him but he jerks his hand back. You gasp, jumping back when you catch a glimpse of his face. It ripples, the skin shifting unnaturally, as if something beneath it is struggling to break free. 

“Oh no,” Clark groans, voice strained. His entire body spasms and his hands slip from the wheel. The car lurches violently to the side, tires screeching against the pavement. Panic surges through you, hands bracing against the door as you shout his name. 

He curls into himself, muscles seizing, leaving the car veering out of control. The telephone pole ahead rushes toward you, growing larger by the second. You throw yourself forward, grasping at the wheel, desperately trying to steer, but Clark’s foot slams against the gas instead of the brake. 

Everything happens too fast. A blur flashes in front of the windshield. Then, a sudden stop. Your body flies forward, arms bracing against the dashboard as your head whips forward and back, pain rattling through your spine. 

You whine in discomfort, slowly sitting up and trying to take in your surroundings. The passenger door is ripped open. You flinch, recoiling instinctively and sending a shock of pain down your body. Your breath stutters as someone ducks their head inside, a startling familiar pair of blue eyes find yours.  

“Clark?” You whisper, gaze flicking to the seat beside you where Clark still sits, doubled over, his breathing ragged. 

The Clark outside the car reaches in and gently pulls you out. Warm, calloused hands skate carefully over your arms and shoulders. He cups the back of your neck, tilting your head up, thumbs gently smoothing over your jaw as he looks you over. 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” His voice is soft, thick with concern. His eyes briefly leave yours to double check you for any injuries he might have missed. 

Your heart pounds. This isn’t possible. You must be concussed. You blink rapidly still struggling to wrap your head around the whole two Clark’s thing when the second one stumbles out of the car. 

He steps are uneven as he rounds the fender, his entire body shaking. Your rescuer moves swiftly, placing himself between you and the other Clark. He shields you, broad shoulders tense, protective to a fault. Must be the real one. Right? You rub your aching head and frown. 

“What were you going to do with her?” The one in front of you barks the question out, his voice sharp and edged with something dangerous.

“I just,” the other one keels over, cutting himself off with a pained groan and shaking his head. “Wanted to get away,” he grits out through clenched teeth, forcing himself straight again. 

“And you had to take her with you?”

“What’s going on?” You jut in, stepping back from both of them. Facing them, you see the same wounded expression reflected on both faces. Whichever is the fake, he’s certainly mastered the puppy dog look. 

Your rescuer tries to take a step forward but you throw your hand up, keeping them both at bay until you know what’s going on. He sighs and glances over at his shoulder at the other one.  “How long have you been able to do this?” 

It's like they start a conversation in the middle and you’re completely lost.  “Last year, I never saw a use for it and it was too much of a pain. But then I realized,” he looks at you, face contorting. “You would never go for a guy like me. You couldn’t. You were too wrapped up in him,” he spits the word out with venom, nodding toward the Clark you know has to be the real one. 

“You love him and that stupid all-American smile.” He chuckles, but it breaks off into a groan as he doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach. He drops to his knees and moans through clenched teeth, clutching at his face as he folds over. The longer black hair shrinks to a dull brown, broad shoulders slimming as the clothes he wears hang loose on him.

The illusion shatters, “Oh, God, Blake?” You gasp out, taking one step toward him. He shakes his head and you stop as Clark grabs your elbow. You glance up at him but he just shoots you a soft look that has you rooted to the spot. 

“I’ve been in love with you since freshman year,” Blake chuckles, still sounding like every word hurts. “If only I figured it out earlier, it’s always going to be him. I never had a chance, did I?” His gaze flickers toward Clark before he collapses to the pavement. 

You both go running toward Blake. Pressing your trembling fingers to his neck, you let out a sigh of relief when you feel his faint heartbeat. 

“We need to get him to a hospital, fast.” You lean back from Blake, looking around for Clark’s truck, confused when you don’t see it. “Dammit, Clark, where's the truck?”

He flushes, shaking his head, “I didn’t bring it.”

You frown, “What’re you talking about?” 

He glances toward Blake, the rise and fall of his chest steadily slowing. When he looks back at you his expression is unreadable, an intensity to it that you’ve never seen before. “I need you to trust me.”

“Always,” you tell him without missing a beat. He gives you a small smile but it lacks the usual warmth. 

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” You glare at him but he just shakes his head. 

“Please,” he looks close to begging and the pulse under your grip is getting weaker. Swallowing down your confusion you close your eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers, “I’ll be back.”

You frown, feeling a rough breeze blow back your hair as your eyes shoot open. But the spot in front of you is empty and the body under your hand has disappeared. Getting to your feet, you spin in one slow circle. There’s nothing out here except golden fields, your totaled car, and you. All alone. 

Clark eventually came back for you. His truck rolling into view after being on your own for half an hour. You hadn’t talked to him the whole ride back to town, too shocked by everything that had happened. 

He carried the conversation for the both of you, offering a brief explanation that only confused you more. Blake had apparently been one of the meteor freaks, somehow being exposed to it when it had left a crater in your town. 

But Clark didn’t tell you how he made it across the highway and to the hospital in under five minutes with no car. He didn’t tell you anything that actually mattered. So, you told him to drop you off at home and you haven’t seen him in a week. 

Chloe had called you once during your self-induced isolation, just to tell you that she’d driven by Blake’s house. Apparently the entire place looked like it had been cleaned out. No sign of him or his parents anywhere. You wish you could say you care, but you don’t. You’re almost grateful he’s gone. Not only did he reveal your long held secret infatuation to Clark, he’d clearly had ill intentions as he tried to take you out of town. 

Your Nokia nearly buzzes itself off your nightstand as you set your book to the side and look at the all-too familiar contact.

Clarkie

The stupid nickname you’d given him in middle school lights up the small screen and you let out a rough sigh, watching as it rings and rings before finally quieting. The screen goes dark before lighting up once more as his ringtone fills the silence of your room. He doesn’t give up easily, you have to give him that. 

You’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face him. Not now that he knows about your feelings for him. There’s no hiding what Blake so plainly laid out for him. You sink into the comforts of the pillows on your bed and wonder if you could just live here forever. 

Something knocks against your window and you ignore it as nothing more than a branch from the tree. It’s not much longer before it happens again and you rip your hands off your face and are forced to sit up. Your phone rings once more and there’s a sinking feeling in your gut that you know exactly who waits outside your window. 

“You can’t hide forever,” comes an annoying cheerful voice from outside. You force yourself off your bed and slink toward your window. Sure enough, Clark waits below it, a boyish grin poised on his face as he looks up at you. As much as you’re avoiding him, it’s plain cruel to just leave him outside. 

Reluctantly, you open your window and he’s quick to climb your tree. You back up as he slots his broad frame through and into your room. He lets out a short huff of breath and straightens up, giving you a sheepish smile. 

Taking a seat on your bed, you find it a tad difficult to look at him. Clark sucks in a deep breath and grabs your desk chair. He straddles it, resting on the back of it and staring at you until you feel like he’s going to burn holes into the side of your face. 

“I haven’t seen you in a while.”

You hum and shrug, tucking a loose wave behind your ear. “I’ve been sick,” you lie, briefly looking up. The intense way he’s looking at you leaves you breathless and you have to take in a slow breath so your heart doesn’t kick up too much.  

“I want to tell you something.” Your head shoots up, concern lacing through you at the grave tone of his words. He looks away from you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, actually, I want to ask you something first. Is, uh,” he chuckles a little and licks his lips, a nervous tick he’s never been able to kick. “Is all that stuff that Blake said true?”

Your stomach drops, burying your face in your hands, you let out a low groan. “Oh, god,” you suck in a sharp breath, unable to look at him as heat flushes through you. 

Lying is always an option. It’s a poor option, but it’s there. Maybe, if you just lied straight through your teeth he would drop it and leave you alone. But you’ve been hiding this for so long, tucked so tightly to your chest, it would be a relief to finally be unburdened of the truth. 

“Yes,” you whisper. You don’t want to look at him, don’t want to face the truth of his rejection. Clark has been your best friend since you could walk, losing him over this stupid crush would destroy you. 

The silence drags on for too long and you feel the anxiety calling its way around you. Warmth envelops your hands and calloused palms draw them away from your face. 

You peek one eye open to find Clark kneeling before you, a soft smile on his face. “You better not be laughing at me, Kent.”

A small chuckle slips through his lips and you slap at his shoulder. He catches your hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours. “I’m not, I promise. I wish you’d told me.”

“Why? So I could ruin our friendship faster?” You snark. 

“No, so I could do this,” he darts forward, soft lips capturing yours. You freeze up, eyes wide as his hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. 

There’s a brief moment of shock where you’re completely frozen. But then you feel the way his thumb rubs soothing circles on the back of your hand. And you find yourself melting into the feeling of his embrace, eyes closing as you slowly open up to him. Your arms find their way around his neck, fingers burying themselves in the soft waves of his hair. 

The kiss itself is gentle, chaste almost. But it warms you from the inside out, makes you feel like you’re going to be nothing but a puddle of goo the longer he holds you. When he pulls back, he drags it out, lips lingering as long as they can. 

You’re slow to recover, eyes glazed over as you stare at him. He seems just as shocked, like he hadn’t expected to do that. Of course, you say the first thing that comes to mind instead of just shutting up and enjoying the moment. “What about Lana?” You blurt out, wincing the second it leaves your mouth. 

He frowns at you and shrugs, “What about her?”

“You’ve been blowing me off for months for her. We go to her shop every day just so you can stare at her. Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly discovered feelings for me. I won’t be your backup, Clark.”

He shakes his head vehemently, looking almost offended by the idea. “What? No. Of course you’re not,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you before sinking back on his heels with a huff. “Look, I wasn’t ditching you for her, I can explain all that,” he pauses and then quickly adds, “later.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion and he reaches up, taking your hands in his. “There’s a lot I have to tell you. But the most important thing is that I am completely over Lana.”

“Really?” You question, tone harsh but bordering almost on teasing. “You look at all your friends like that?”

He shakes his head, “No,” he pauses, “just you,” he adds with a cheeky smirk. You roll your eyes and shake your head, looking away from him. “Whatever you thought you saw between us, it was only on her end. I swear, it’s been you for a long time.”  

You look away, but he’s not accepting that, tilting your chin to face him once more. “It’s always been you,” he murmurs, voice steady, certain.

Your breath hitches, heart stuttering in your chest. Maybe this is real. Maybe it’s been you that’s been the oblivious idiot. 

You take a deep breath, meeting his gaze head-on. “Then prove it.”

His smile is slow, confident, and this time when he leans in you don’t hesitate to meet him halfway.

end. — I do not own the characters or the TV Show Smallville, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[svt-luna]

𝜗℘ NOBODY KNOWS

❛ 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘯𝘰𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴. 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯. 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳. ❜

timeline: 2020

synopsis: After a year of stolen glances and secret meetings, one reckless moment in the practice room turns Jeonghan and Luna’s hidden relationship into the group’s loudest revelation.

warnings: this is a short but sweet one!!, cursing, fluff, short fic, sneaking around, established relationship, some slightly suggestive moments, pda, they are whipped for each other, somewhat chaotic and comedic, LOTS of screaming (mainly from BSS)

this is long overdue and i am sorry it took a while, i completely forgot this existed after being buried in my drafts 🫠 anyways, hope you guys enjoy and happy reading!!

╰ ౨ৎ LUNA-VERSE MASTERLIST ╰ ౨ৎ writings masterlist

Sneaking around was fun.

Jeonghan never thought it would be this fun, but sneaking around with Luna?

It was exhilarating.

There was something about stolen moments, the quiet thrill of being together without anyone knowing. It wasn’t that they wanted to keep secrets from their friends, but the world they had built for themselves, just the two of them, was intoxicating.

Every glance, every brush of the hand when no one was looking, held more weight, more intimacy. They shared something that no one else could see, and the act of hiding it made everything so much sweeter.

It was a game, really— one they never planned to play but found themselves drawn into. The way they would lock eyes across a crowded room, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. Or how Jeonghan would casually sit beside her during rehearsals, his fingers lightly grazing her leg under the table, completely unnoticed by everyone else.

The secret made the connection between them even more intense, amplifying the quiet, unspoken moments they shared.

Ever since that one night…

It all started one passionate night— a night that neither of them would ever forget. They had been close for so long, their bond deepening naturally with time. But that night changed everything.

The tension that had been simmering for months finally broke, and they found themselves in tangled each other’s arms, both of them giving in to what they had been feeling for so long. It was like a dam had burst, and from that moment on, there was no going back.

After that night, they were inseparable.

There was a new intensity to the way they existed around each other, a magnetic pull that neither of them could resist.

If they were in the same room, they gravitated toward each other, always finding some way to be close— whether it was sitting next to each other during team dinners, or slipping away for a quick moment together during breaks.

The honeymoon phase was real, and they were living it.

Every moment they could steal for themselves was golden. Jeonghan would find ways to be alone with her, whether it was a late-night talk after a long day of practice or sneaking out to the rooftop to enjoy the quiet, starry night together. They would talk for hours about everything and nothing, just enjoying each other’s company.

Sometimes, it didn’t even matter what they said; it was just about being together.

Jeonghan often found himself watching her, completely mesmerized by the smallest things she did. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was deep in thought, the way her eyes lit up when she laughed.

And Luna, too, couldn’t help but get lost in the softness of his gaze, the way he would quietly take her hand under the table or brush a stray hair from her face when he thought no one was looking. They were locked in their own world, so attuned to each other that the rest of the world faded into the background.

Their whole relationship was a secret by accident.

They hadn’t planned on keeping it a secret. It wasn’t like they had some grand scheme to hide their relationship from the rest of the group. But life had a way of getting in the way.

There were practices, recordings, filming schedules, performances— everything piling up one after the other. Their lives were so hectic that there never seemed to be a perfect moment to tell the other members— not that they realized anything was going on… Luna and Jeonghan were just being the exact same according to them.

At first, couple thought they would sit everyone down, have a proper conversation, maybe even laugh about it afterward. But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the perfect moment never came.

The idea of revealing their relationship over a rushed text message felt wrong. This was something significant, something that deserved more than just a casual mention in passing.

It wasn’t about not trusting the other members; they knew that their friends would be nothing but supportive. It was about finding the right time— when they could explain things fully, face to face. When they could show just how serious they were about each other.

But the right time never came.

The longer they waited, the busier they became.

And so they didn’t tell.

They just… let it be.

Every time Jeonghan or Luna would think about bringing it up, something would happen. A sudden practice session, an emergency meeting. And with each passing day, it just became easier to keep it to themselves.

It wasn’t that they were trying to deceive anyone. It was just that life was moving too fast, and their relationship— this precious thing they had created— felt too sacred to rush an announcement.

However, there was something thrilling about it.

Over time, sneaking around became a part of their routine. The thrill of catching glances, of brushing hands in secret, of exchanging knowing smiles when no one else was looking— it was like living in their own secret movie.

They would send quick, playful texts when the others weren’t paying attention, or find ways to meet in secluded spots during their schedules. They had their little hideouts— places in the company building or backstage at events where no one would think to look for them. There, they could steal a kiss or two, holding each other tightly in moments where the rest of the world couldn’t reach them.

Jeonghan loved the moments when they’d sneak away after hours, meeting in quiet corners where they wouldn’t be found. Like that time they slipped out after a late recording session and sat on the rooftop, huddled together under the stars, away from the noise of the world.

They had laughed quietly as they whispered about how none of the members had any idea. Or that one time backstage during a performance, when he had pulled her into an empty dressing room, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before they both had to rush back on stage.

Then there were the fleeting touches— Jeonghan brushing his fingers along the back of her hand when no one was watching, Luna squeezing his knee under the table during a team meeting.

These were their secret ways of communicating when words weren’t enough. The thrill of not being caught, of knowing that this was something just between the two of them, made every touch feel electric.

There were a lot of impulsive moments where both Jeonghan and Luna threw their caution out the window.

A lot— a concerning amount.

Like that time at the recording studio…

The studio was buzzing, but it wasn't loud enough to drown out Jeonghan's thoughts.

They were supposed to be focusing on the new track, practicing harmonies with the rest of the group. But every time Luna moved beside him, her elbow brushing against his arm, his focus slipped. It was maddening, the way she was so close yet felt so far.

Jeonghan cast a sidelong glance at her, watching the way she absentmindedly tapped her fingers on the music sheet. He could see the hint of a smile on her lips, and it drove him crazy knowing she had no idea what she was doing to him.

He leaned in, his lips just grazing the shell of her ear, voice barely audible as he murmured, "Come with me."

Luna's fingers froze mid-tap, but she didn't look at him, her eyes still on the paper. "Now?" she whispered back, pretending to stay focused on the task at hand.

She knew exactly what he wanted, but the room was filled with people— members, staff, producers.

It was reckless.

Jeonghan smirked, leaning just a little closer, his breath warm against her ear. "Right now."

A soft blush crept across Luna's cheeks, but she kept her voice steady. "We're supposed to be practicing." Her eyes darted toward him briefly before looking away, her resolve weakening with each passing second.

Jeonghan, though, knew her well enough by now. He saw the way her lips quirked at the corners, the slight shift in her body language that told him she was already considering it.

"We won't be long," he said, voice dripping with amusement. "Just a little break."

She finally turned her head, her eyes locking with his, amusement dancing in the depths of her gaze. "You're impossible."

"And you love it," he teased, his hand already gently tugging her wrist beneath the table where no one could see. The others were too engrossed in their own parts to notice. He gave her a knowing look, his thumb tracing small circles on her skin. "Come on. Ten minutes."

“That’s a long fucking time for a ‘little break’.” Luna tried reasoning with him but she knew it was no use.

“What are they gonna do? Fire us?” Jeonghan sassed back before smirking.

Luna hesitated for a fraction of a second, casting a quick glance around the room. No one was paying attention. Her heart raced as she weighed the risk, but deep down, she knew there was no saying no to Jeonghan when he got that glint in his eye.

“Nana-ya,” Jeonghan whispered as he tugged on her arm again, more insistent this time, and she exhaled softly, surrendering.

"Fine," she muttered, but the small smile playing on her lips betrayed her excitement.

Without a word, Jeonghan stood up, casually stretching his arms as though he was just taking a break from the session.

Luna followed suit, quietly slipping behind him. They walked out of the room, their steps in perfect sync as they made their way down the narrow hallway. The further they went, the faster her pulse raced, anticipation curling in her chest.

Jeonghan glanced over his shoulder, grinning as he led her to a small, unused room at the end of the corridor.

The door clicked shut behind them, and Luna felt the immediate change in the atmosphere— the quiet, intimate space wrapping around them like a blanket.

She barely had time to react before Jeonghan was in front of her, his hands sliding up her arms to her shoulders, pulling her in. His smile was playful, teasing, but his eyes were intense. "I've been wanting to do this all day," he murmured, his voice low as he dipped his head closer to hers.

Luna's heart skipped a beat, but she shook her head, half-heartedly trying to keep some semblance of control. "We're going to get caught."

He hummed, brushing a stray hair behind her ear, his fingertips lingering against her cheek. "Maybe." His lips hovered just inches from hers, his breath fanning across her skin, making her stomach flutter. "But isn't that part of the fun?"

Luna opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, Jeonghan closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was slow at first, a gentle press of lips that quickly deepened as he coaxed her to respond. Her hands instinctively found their way to the front of his shirt, gripping the fabric as she melted into him, the tension in her body slipping away with every passing second.

When they finally broke apart, Jeonghan rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "You always give in," he whispered, his tone light but filled with affection.

Luna huffed a soft laugh, her eyes fluttering open to meet his. "You make it impossible to resist."

He grinned, kissing the tip of her nose. "Good."

She playfully pushed his chest, though there was no force behind it. "We really shouldn't be doing this here."

Jeonghan leaned back, his hand sliding down her arm to lace their fingers together. "You say that every time, but here we are."

She gave him a mock glare, though the corners of her mouth betrayed her as they quirked upward. "One of these days, we're actually going to get caught."

He shrugged, unbothered, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "Then I guess we'll deal with it when it happens." He tugged her a little closer, leaning down to kiss her again, this time slower, savoring the moment. When he pulled away, his eyes were soft, the teasing edge replaced with something more sincere. "I just want to be with you. Doesn't matter where."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she smiled, resting her head against his chest for a brief moment. "Yoon Jeonghan, you're impossible, you know that?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "And you love me for it."

Luna sighed, pulling away just enough to look up at him, her eyes twinkling. "Yeah. I do."

They stayed there for a moment longer, the world outside that tiny room fading into the background. There was nothing but the two of them, their shared breath, their intertwined fingers. And in that quiet space, everything else ceased to matter.

That time during one of their team dinners…

The restaurant was alive with the sound of laughter, clinking glasses, and the chaotic chatter of thirteen boys— fourteen, counting Luna, who sat across from Jeonghan at the long table. The night was loud, but neither of them noticed. Their attention was pulled away from the noise of their friends, entirely focused on each other.

Luna sat back in her chair, her chin resting in the palm of her hand, pretending to listen to the conversation next to her.

But beneath the table, her foot brushed against Jeonghan’s leg. It was a light touch at first, so subtle it could be mistaken for an accident. But the moment she felt him shift slightly in response, she pressed her foot against him again, a ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jeonghan looked up, meeting her gaze across the table, his eyes narrowing just slightly in amusement. The lively atmosphere around them melted into the background, fading into a blur of laughter and voices. His foot moved under the table, lightly nudging hers back, playing along with the silent game she’d initiated. His lips twitched as he watched her reaction.

Meanwhile, the rest of the members were oblivious, deep in their own world of boisterous conversation and drinks. Mingyu was loudest, his laughter booming across the table as he slapped Woozi’s back, nearly spilling the contents of his drink.

“Hyung, you should’ve seen it! I swear, he tripped over his own feet!” Mingyu exclaimed between laughs, his large frame shaking with each burst of laughter.

Woozi shot him a deadpan look, pushing his drink aside. “You’re exaggerating. I didn’t trip. You’re clumsy one.”

“I’m not clumsy!” Mingyu protested, but his voice was lost to the noise of the table as the others chimed in with their own comments.

“I think you are,” Hoshi teased from the other end, raising his glass, clearly drunk out of his wits. “To Mingyu, our tall and graceful giant!”

The group erupted into laughter, but Jeonghan barely heard it. His focus was entirely on Luna. Her foot grazed against his again, the touch sending a jolt of anticipation through him. She was watching him closely now, her eyes gleaming with a mix of teasing and mischief. Jeonghan, never one to back down from a challenge, pushed his foot back against hers, this time more firmly.

The corners of her mouth lifted, just enough for him to notice, and she pressed her foot against his again, slipping it between his calves, testing how far she could push before someone caught on.

He leaned back in his chair, arms casually resting on the back of the seat next to him, as if he was completely unaffected. But the truth was, his heart was pounding in his chest, excitement swirling in his stomach.

The game they were playing, right under everyone’s noses, was intoxicating.

Luna tilted her head, pretending to listen to something Seungkwan was saying next to her, but her focus remained on Jeonghan. Her foot slid up along his leg, slowly, deliberately. Jeonghan bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to smile too widely, knowing the members would notice.

Seungkwan, oblivious to the under-the-table antics, was going on about his latest variety show appearance, hands gesturing animatedly. “And then they asked me to do the aegyo thing— again. Can you believe it? I mean, I’m more than just cute, you know!”

Vernon raised a brow, taking a sip of his drink. “Sure, man. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Seungkwan gasped dramatically, slapping Vernon’s arm. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Let’s be honest,” Joshua chimed in with a grin, “you do the aegyo thing too well. They’re never going to stop asking.”

The group burst into laughter again, but Jeonghan remained silent, his gaze locked on Luna’s. She was clearly enjoying herself, watching him squirm under her subtle touches. Her eyes flickered to his leg, and she pushed her foot higher, grazing the inside of his knee.

Jeonghan shifted slightly, trying to maintain his composure, but it was getting harder with each passing second. The heat between them, the secret they shared, was making it difficult to focus on anything else. He could feel her foot teasing him, slow and deliberate, as if daring him to break first.

He wasn’t going to let her win that easily.

In one swift motion, Jeonghan pushed his foot forward, trapping hers between his legs. Luna’s eyes widened in surprise, and her lips parted in a small gasp. She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing with both challenge and amusement.

Jeonghan smirked. Got you, his eyes seemed to say.

But before either of them could make another move, Jeonghan suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance Luna had put him in.

“Hyung, you alright?” It was Dokyeom, his brow furrowed as he leaned in, clearly noticing Jeonghan’s unusual silence. “You’ve been staring off into space for the last five minutes.”

Jeonghan blinked, quickly forcing a nonchalant smile. “Oh, yeah. Just… thinking.” He gave a lazy stretch, trying to shake off the tension that had built up during his and Luna’s silent exchange.

Dokyeom raised an eyebrow, unconvinced as he teased. “Thinking? You? Since when?”

Jeonghan laughed, deflecting with ease. “Since always, Dokyeomie. I have a lot of deep thoughts— plus I was listening to you guys.”

Dokyeom rolled his eyes but seemed satisfied with the response. “Yeah, sure. I’ll try to believe that.”

Jeonghan gave him a light shove.

Dokyeom laughed, oblivious to the real reason behind Jeonghan’s distraction, before turning back to the rest of the conversation. But Jeonghan’s attention had already shifted back to Luna. She was watching him, her foot still trapped between his legs, her lips quirking into a knowing smile.

As the conversation around them picked up again, Luna pressed her foot against him one more time, her silent message clear: This isn’t over.

Jeonghan bit back a laugh, but in his attempt to regain control, his knee accidentally bumped into the edge of the table with a loud thud. The plates and glasses rattled, and several heads turned in his direction.

“Hyung!” Minghao exclaimed, his eyes wide with amusement. “Are you okay?”

Jeonghan waved it off, rubbing his knee with a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I uh— just got a little too comfortable.”

But across the table, Luna chuckled quietly, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched him squirm under the scrutiny of their friends. Jeonghan shot her a playful glare, mouthing the words, You’ll pay for that later.

She only smiled wider, her foot giving him one last teasing nudge before retreating, her expression one of pure satisfaction.

It was risky, but that was part of the fun.

Every shared touch, every secret kiss carried a weight of excitement that was almost addicting.

They never meant to hide it.

It was never supposed to be a secret for this long. But as days turned into months, they realized they liked it— this bubble they had created for themselves, away from the chaos of their public lives.

Their relationship was something they could protect, something that was purely theirs, away from the spotlight. It wasn’t about hiding from their friends, but about keeping something precious between the two of them for a little longer.

They knew they would tell the members eventually, but for now, this was theirs.

And they weren’t quite ready to let that go.

Until they accidentally did…

Which was strange— they had been careful. Hyper-aware of their surroundings.

But it was bound to happen.

A reckless moment, a stolen kiss, a door left unlocked. That was all it took.

And it happened in the practice room.

The room was empty, dimly lit by the white glow of the ceiling lights, the faint hum of music still playing from the speakers. Hours of practice had drained them both, and now, with the studio vacant, it felt like their own little sanctuary.

Jeonghan sat against the mirrored wall, legs stretched out, his arm draped lazily over Luna’s shoulder as she sat beside him, mirroring his posture. The air between them was thick with exhaustion, but also with something softer— something indulgent.

They had been talking, murmuring quiet teases about who had fumbled more during practice, until the teasing had dwindled into comfortable silence. Then, it had happened naturally, like second nature. Luna had turned her head toward him, and Jeonghan had already been looking at her. His fingers traced along her jaw, brushing back the stray strands of hair sticking to her slightly damp skin.

And then he kissed her.

Slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that spoke of familiarity and comfort, but also of something greedy, something that thrived in the secrecy of these hidden moments.

Luna responded just as eagerly, her fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. Jeonghan sighed into her lips, tilting his head, deepening the kiss, drowning in the feeling of just them.

They were completely lost in it.

So lost that they didn’t hear the door swing open.

Didn’t hear the footsteps.

Didn’t hear the chorus of gasps and the sharp inhale of about twelve different people collectively losing their minds.

“OH MY GOD— WHAT THE HELL?!”

Luna and Jeonghan froze.

For a split second, they stayed completely still, lips barely apart, breath mingling, before reality crashed down on them like a landslide. Luna jerked back like she had been burned, heart hammering against her ribs as her wide, horrified eyes darted toward the entrance.

A sea of stunned expressions met her.

Seungkwan had a hand over his mouth, eyes stretched so wide it looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Vernon blinked once. Then twice. Then again, as if he was still processing what exactly he had just walked into. Dino, on the other hand, had taken a step back, his hands clutching his head as if he was physically trying to comprehend what he just saw.

“NO FUCKING WAY—”

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

“Oh, I knew it! I KNEW IT!”

“Wait, wait, hold on —what— how— WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!”

Luna felt her entire body turn hot, her face burning in complete mortification as she let out a choked squeak and immediately buried her head in Jeonghan’s lap. Heaving in embarrassment, she curled into herself, as if the earth could swallow her whole if she just made herself small enough.

But Jeonghan?

Jeonghan, that insufferable man, merely leaned back against the wall with a lazy, unfazed grin.

“Well,” he drawled, “that could’ve gone better.”

“What do you mean ‘that could’ve gone better’— ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!” Seungkwan exploded, still gripping his chest like he was about to have a heart attack. “We just walked in on you two making out and THAT’S YOUR REACTION?!”

Dokyeon let out a loud cackle, slapping his knee. “This is unreal! You guys were hiding this from us?! No, no, hold on, we need answers—”

“Answers?! We need a damn timeline!” Joshua exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief. “I— this entire time?! This entire time? I mean… I had a feeling…”

Minghao folded his arms, letting out a small huff through his nose. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“I KNEW IT!” Hoshi screamed, pointing an accusatory finger at them. “I had a feeling! You two were always acting weird! The glances! The whispers! The suspicious disappearing acts! I CALLED IT!”

“You literally never said anything,” Jun pointed out.

Hoshi spun on his heel. “IT WAS A GUT FEELING.”

Woozi, who had remained silent this entire time, simply exhaled through his nose and pinched the bridge of it, muttering under his breath, “You guys are unbelievable.”

Meanwhile, Vernon blinked again, finally processing everything. “So… are we not gonna practice anymore?”

“VERNON, PLEASE—”

Through it all, Luna refused to lift her head, her ears burning, her entire body screaming in secondhand embarrassment. “Oh my god,” she mumbled against Jeonghan’s thigh, “I’m never showing my face again.”

Jeonghan chuckled, bringing a hand up to lazily ruffle her hair. “You’re fine, baby.”

“BABY?!”

A fresh round of chaos erupted.

Seungcheol, who had been standing in the center of it all in complete silence, finally let out a long, deep sigh. “Alright, everyone, calm down—”

“CALM DOWN?! HYUNG, WE JUST WALKED IN ON JEONGHAN HYUNG AND JIYEONIE—”

“I know.” S.Coups raised his voice just enough to cut through the noise. He ran a hand down his face before dropping it to his hip. “Honestly? I had my suspicions.”

A sharp gasp came out of Hoshi’s mouth. “YOU TOO?!”

“Well, yeah,” he deadpanned as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I have eyes.”

Amidst all the screaming, the different reactions, the teasing, and the sheer chaos of the moment, there was one person standing at the back, watching it all unfold with a quiet, unreadable expression.

Mingyu.

His lips were curled in a small, wistful smile, but there was something else there, something deep in his eyes— a flicker of something sad, something resigned, something understanding.

But he didn’t say a word.

He only let out a soft breath, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and looked at the two.

Then, he smiled.

Genuinely.

And that was enough for now.

Luna was still curled up in Jeonghan’s lap, her face burning hot enough to rival the sun, as the chaos continued to erupt around them.

Her mortification knew no bounds.

The teasing, the yelling, the absolute lack of any sense of order— it was everything she feared would happen if they ever got caught. And yet, there was no judgment, no tension, just an overwhelming surge of disbelief, excitement, and too many voices screaming at once.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, was still as cool as ever, his fingers lazily running through Luna’s hair like this was just another Tuesday. He wore a smug grin, as if he wasn’t the least bit sorry they had been found out. If anything, he was enjoying this.

“You knew this would happen,” Luna mumbled against his thigh, voice muffled.

Jeonghan chuckled, leaning down to whisper, “l didn’t, Nana-ya. But it was worth it, don’t you think?”

She groaned and smacked his knee.

Meanwhile, the members had barely taken a breath before the flood of questions began.

“Alright, hyung,” Dokyeom huffed, crossing his arms. “You better start talking! How long has this been going on? When did you two start?”

“Yeah, what the hell, man?” Seungkwan gasped, still dramatically clutching his chest like he was recovering from a near-death experience. “A YEAR? A WHOLE YEAR?! WE SEE EACH OTHER EVERYDAY! HOW DID I NOT KNOW?”

“You see ALL of us everyday,” Joshua pointed out.

“THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT.”

“I just wanna know…” Dino lips curled into a mischievous smirk, his eyes glinting with something dangerous. “Who confessed first?”

That made Luna’s entire body tense.

Finally, she lifted her head— reluctantly— peeking up at them with a shy, thoroughly flustered expression. The moment she did, every single one of them zeroed in on her like predators finding their prey.

She gulped.

“Oh. Oh, she looks guilty as hell.” Hoshi grinned, rubbing his hands together. “Jiyeonie, you confessed first, didn’t you?”

Luna sputtered, her ears burning. “I—I—”

“She did,” Jeonghan answered smoothly, flashing that infuriatingly handsome smile.

Luna’s head snapped toward him, betrayal written all over her face. “Yoon Jeonghan, I swear to God—”

“Wait, wait—” Seungcheol, who had been oddly quiet until now, suddenly blinked in realization. He turned to Mingyu. “Bro. Remember? The 2017 thing.”

Fuck was all Luna could think of at the moment.

Mingyu’s eyes flickered slightly, but his reaction was calm as he nodded. “Yeah. I remember.”

“What 2017 thing?” Dino asked, tilting his head.

Joshua exhaled, shaking his head with a knowing smile. “Ah… I see now.”

“Okay, WHAT ARE YOU ALL TALKING ABOUT?” Seungkwan shrieked.

Dokyeom gasped. “JIYEONIE CONFESSED IN 2017, DIDN’T SHE?”

“I am going to kill someone.” Luna looked absolutely murderous.

Jeonghan, still wearing that stupid smirk, poked her cheek. “What’s wrong, baby? Embarrassed?”

The way her entire body flared at the pet name, especially with twelve pairs of eyes watching, was something the others would never let her live down.

“Hold on, I need a second—” Dokyeom leaned against Seungkwan for support, wheezing.

“Hyung, you’re cruel.” Minghao snorted, shaking his head. “You’re really throwing her into the lion’s den.”

“I just think she looks cute when she’s embarrassed,” Jeonghan said, eyes twinkling.

Luna smacked his arm. Hard.

Seungcheol finally decided to step in, rubbing his temple as he sighed despite the smirk on his face. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down—”

“OH NO, WE’RE JUST GETTING STARTED,” Seungkwan interrupted, rubbing his hands together like an actual villain. “Alright, guys, be honest. Who knew? Who had a feeling?”

“Me,” Minghao deadpanned. “I had a feeling.”

“It was obvious,” Joshua added with a smirk.

Jun raised his hand lazily. “I had a gut feeling.”

Hoshi gawked. “SO EVERYONE BUT ME?!”

“Hyung, you said you knew earlier,” Dino pointed out. “I didn’t know though.”

“THAT WAS FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT.”

“Honestly,” Woozi finally spoke, looking far too amused for someone who had just been subjected to this madness, “it was kind of inevitable.”

“Oh?” Jeonghan raised a brow.

Woozi shrugged. “I mean, we all saw it coming. Even during trainee days, you two were glued to each other. It was like… written in the stars or some sappy shit.”

Luna groaned. “Not you too.”

Woozi smirked. “I just call it like I see it.”

At this point some of the members mainly BSS we’re giggling, squealing, and pointing at Jeonghan and Luna while the rest were smiling, enjoying the show.

And at this point, Luna was just accepting her fate.

She was the only girl in SEVENTEEN. That meant all of them were going to have a field day with this. And there was no escaping it.

“Alright, alright, I think we’ve embarrassed her enough,” Seungcheol finally said, though the amusement was clear in his voice. “We should probably get back to practice.”

“Fine,” Hoshi groaned, disappointed.

“I love you, Cheollie.” Luna gave him a smile as he winked back at her in return.

“BUT THIS ISN’T OVER,” Seungkwan declared. “YOU TWO WILL BE INTERROGATED LATER.”

“Can’t wait,” Jeonghan said dryly.

As the members finally— finally— began gathering themselves to resume practice, Luna let out a heavy breath, rubbing her temples. Jeonghan turned to look at her, his gaze softening just slightly.

“You okay, Nana-ya?” he murmured.

She sighed, then glanced up at him. Despite everything— the absolute hell she had just been put through— she found herself smiling.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m okay, Han.”

Jeonghan smiled back.

And just like that, they knew…

Everything was going to be just fine.

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[lovelytsunoda]

club tropicana | lando norris

summary: on an all inclusive holiday in ibiza, y/n finds herself falling head over feet for the charming british barman

pairing: bartender!lando norris x female! reader

warnings: reader has some crappy former friends, please do not get into a car with a barman at a shitty three star spanish resort (lowkey inspired by my 'benidorm' rewatch), cameos from carlos and fernando, im so sorry that this took me literally a month and a half to write.

club tropicana drinks are free / fun and sunshine, its enough for everyone all that's missing is the sea / but don't you worry, you can suntan

the sun beat down on the resort-goers, reflecting off the chlorinated water in the swimming pool. sunbeds were arranged around the large body of water. swimmers in the pool sat on mosaic stools underwater to order drinks at the swim up bar.

she was supposed to be on this trip with her friends. well, some friends they were. ending a friendship over text with about six weeks left in her second-to-last university semester before graduation.

and so she had gone alone, to the most affordable three-and-a-half star resort in ibiza. truth be told, she hadn't wanted to go to the party island in the first place. if she didn't leave the resort, it wouldn't even matter.

bookmarking her page, she sat her copy of dark sacred night down on the sunbed and strode towards the pool. the pool was crowded, but the swim-up seats at the bar were, unfortunately, the easiest way to get a drink at the resort.

she took a deep breath and ducked below the water, swimming over to where the bar was. she liked being underwater. all her senses were dulled, and the noise of the real world seemed to fade away.

"one vodka orange, please." her voice was quieter than intended when she sat down at the bar, and for a moment she worried that the barman couldn't hear her.

"coming right up, love." the barman was british, with a mop of curly hair and a pale yellow resort shirt that had the name 'lando' embroidered over the heart. he winked at her as he got the vodka down from a shelf behind the bar and began to mix her drink.

lando wasn't oblivious to the understated beauty of the girl in front of him, water running down her soft skin and dipping into the curve between her breasts. her wide, gentle eyes. the way the orange fabric of her swimsuit hugged her curves.

she was wearing a one-piece, a rarity in ibiza.

"so," he asks, setting the drink down in front of her. "what brings you to spain"?

he always asks, even if he doesn't care. but one thing he's noticed since he started working behind the bar is that everybody has something to say, and sometimes they just need a stranger to say it too.

kind of like the characters in that old billy joel song, the one about the piano and the man at the bar making love to his tonic and gin.

and she doesn't know what it is about lando that put her so at ease, but suddenly shes talking and talking and can't make it stop and now he knows all about the three years of friendships she forged at university and how all she had to show for it were two refunded ryanair flights and a text message saying that they 'needed space' and 'our friendship will not be continuing at this time' with no explanation of what she had done to push them away in the first place.

funny that.

"does that sound ridiculous?" she cringed. "it sounds really silly now that i've said it out loud."

"people come to ibiza for dumber reasons. i worked in benidorm for two years, and you should see the train wrecks that come through there." lando laughed, leaning against the tiled bar. "you're better off without them, if you ask me. they sound very catty."

"catty is saying it nicely." she laughed along, sipping her vodka orange.

talking with lando was easy. more so, it seemed like he genuinely cared, and that he wanted to listen. it had been a long time since she had felt like anyone wanted to listen to her. even still, the voices in her head were getting harsher and harsher.

"what are your plans for later?" lando asked, head cocked to the side. "i've got this friend, he owns a party boat company."

"lando, i'm not getting on a spanish party boat with a man i hardly know." she cringed, stomach flip-flopping. had she gotten the total wrong idea about him? he seemed like the kind of guy who would know just about everybody in ibiza, and probably half of benidorm as well. "does anything that i've just told you make you think that i would literally at all be interested?

lando raised his eyebrows. "you didn't let me finish, love. he also does nighttime stargazing tours. that far out on the water, there's nothing in the way of you, the sky and the stars. i thought that was much more up your alley. i could take you tonight if you wanted to."

she felt a pit in her stomach and cursed herself for jumping to conclusions. for a moment, the barman had looked genuinely hurt, right now, though, he looked at her with puppy-dog eyes, and expression that inevitably made her cave.

after all, she was on vacation.

and here she was, waiting in the lobby of the hotel in a low cut black halter dress. she'd done her makeup, which was a rarity. she was tempted to turn her location tracker on, but wondered who she would share it with. she could always tell the woman working reception to call her at a set time, and then the police if she didn't answer, she supposed.

lando pulled up outside in a little fiat 500, looking dapper in a collared shirt. his hair was visibly caked in gel, and he smelled like expensive cologne.

far more expensive than a barman should have been able to afford.

"are you ready for the night of your life, milady?"

she fought the blush, looking at his extended arm. no doubt he wanted her to link her arm through his. and they said that romance was dead.

"take it away, bartender."

the fiat should have felt cramped, but instead felt cozy. spanish synthpop music played on the radio, something uplifting and calming as lando drove through the cobbled ibiza streets. she looked out the window in wonder, eyes wide as the city nightlife passed them by.

all too soon, they had arrived at the dock, and lando was speaking rapid-fire spanish to another man who was leaning through the window. they laughed, and the spaniard clapped lando on the shoulder before taking a small handful of bills from him.

the barman stepped out of the fiat, crossing around the car to open her door and help her out of the little hatchback car.

"your carriage awaits." he grinned, cocking his head in the direction of the boat. "come on, i got us the best seats."

on the boat, an older dj was playing a wham! record, 'club tropicana' blaring out over the sound system.

"when does the bar open?" she asked quietly. "i'm craving something."

"in about twenty minutes, as soon as we leave port." lando replied, resting his hands on her waist. "in the meantime, can i tempt you to a dance?"

ah, why the hell not?

"hey, fernando," lando started before rattling off something in spanish. the dj nodded once before changing the record on his turntable.

spanish synthpop.

lando took her hands in his, pulling her closer for a spirited dance, his hips swinging back and forth with abandon. she fought the urge to burst out laughing as she let him pull her close. the sun was dipping low over the horizon, and down at the dock the deckhands were getting ready to leave port.

but with lando's hands burning into her skin as he lead her in something that might have vaguely resembled the tango, she had forgotten all about the fact that she was on a stargazing cruise, not a latin dance boat.

she only realized the song was over when the audience that had gathered around her and lando had started to clap. red faced and blushing, she dropped lando's hands and shyly pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

"i think im ready for that drink now."

lando beamed, resting his hand in the small of her back. "of course, sweetheart. vodka orange?"

"you know me so well."

lando effortlessly slid behind the bar, hands flying as he grabbed glasses and bottles and shakers. she leaned against the bar, chin in her hand as she watched him work, muscles rippling in his forearms underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his white shirt.

he winked at her as he passed her the glass. by now, the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, and if one craned their neck up, they would be able to see a glimmering landscape of stars, uninterrupted by the muted lights on the boat.

lando came to stand behind her, his hands resting on her waist, protectively holding her body to his.

"so, be honest, this just made your trip a whole lot better, didn't it?"

despite herself, she laughed, relaxing into his touch. "yeah, it really did. thank you, lando."

"wait," he started, hand moving to her chin. "my job isn't quite done yet."

"what are you-"

she didn't get a chance to finish as the barman touched his lips to hers. they were soft. way softer than any barman's lips should be, well taken care of like the rest of the brit in front of her. she fell, no, tumbled into the kiss, feeling herself falling faster with every second that they spent lip-locked.

and she knew that there was no way that barman wasn't coming home with her. who needs return flights anyways? maybe she could just stay in ibiza and snog him for the rest of her her working life.

for now, though, she'd just settle with getting him into her hotel room.

[ebodebo]

getting high with your brother’s best friend!

"Really shouldn’t let you take a hit, Sweetheart," Jason muses, taking a drag from his blunt as you both sit side by side on your roof.

Your brother had stepped out for a bit, likely to take care of things with his new girlfriend, leaving you alone at home with Jason.

Since your brother had been friends with him for a long time, he felt at ease leaving you two alone together.

Your brother was completely oblivious to your secret crush on his close friend.

After about thirty minutes of Jason clutching the blunt he had prepared for himself and your brother, he quietly made his way up to your roof to indulge.

You followed closely behind, eager to join him.

“Come on, Jason,” you nudge, your eyelashes fluttering. “Don’t go all gentlemanly on me now.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, a cloud of smoke swirling around him as he does so.

Your eyes wander to observe him further.

God, he was so fucking hot.

He had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, a warm smile that lit up the room, and not to mention his arms.

Fuck his arms.

You swallow hard as you notice his bicep flexing under his short sleeve while he raises the blunt to his lips.

"Have you ever even smoked before?" He asks, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

You quickly shift your gaze back to his, hoping he didn’t catch you shamelessly checking him out.

“Like once,” you say almost too quickly.

He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

“Here,” he says, holding the blunt between his fingers for you to take. “Just don’t take too big of a hit.”

You nod and carefully grab the blunt, placing it between your lips. As you take a deep inhale, you end up coughing hard, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

"You alright?" Jason asks earnestly, taking the blunt from your trembling hands with one hand while his other gently rubs your back to ease your coughs.

You nod your head vigorously as the coughing dies down, making an effort to ignore the way Jason’s hand seems to brush against your bare back, even through your shirt.

“No more for you,” he teased, a smile dancing on his lips.

You let out one last cough. “Will I even feel it?”

“Yeah,” he replies, taking another drag from the blunt that now rests between his lips.

“You’ll feel it.”

That was about ten hits ago.

While most of them were Jason's, you still managed to snag a few for yourself.

Your brother sent a text saying that he had to handle an emergency—most likely something related to his overly attached girlfriend—and that he would return as soon as he could.

You and Jason were sprawled out on the roof, the blunt long gone and nothing but silence hanging in the air.

Your body felt weighed down, as if you could simply plunge through the metal roof and drop into the room below.

Meanwhile, your head spun mercilessly, even when you weren’t moving an inch.

“How’s Cock?” Jason's voice broke the silence.

You turn your head to his direction, your cheek pressed against the chilly shingles of the roof.

“Jason,” you respond, a touch of frustration in your voice, but a hint of humor plays on your lips. “You know his name is Brock.”

“Sure, Brock, whatever you say,” he replies, playfully rolling his eyes. “How's he doing?”

You chuckled softly. “To be honest, I’m surprised that you even care about his well-being.”

“I don’t. Just trying to make conversation,” he replies with a shrug, his tone dry.

You shift your gaze to the stars sparkling overhead. “I can’t say how he’s doing,” you say slowly. “We broke things off like two weeks ago.”

Jason looks at you in disbelief. “No shit?”

You glimpse at his confused expression before turning entirely on your side to face him. “Yeah,” you exhale. “I found him kissing another girl in his dorm.”

Jason thinks for a moment. “Want me to kick his ass for you?” He asks, his sincerity evident in the tone of his voice.

You grin. “Nah. He’ll get his karma.”

“I still don’t see what you saw in him,” Jason remarked after a moment, tilting his head to gaze at the sky.

"Honestly, me neither," you chuckle, closing your eyes as your laughter drifts on, lingering for quite a while.

Jason lets out a chuckle in response to your extended laughter.

You double over, still gasping with laughter. “You know he was jealous of you?”

Jason playfully rolls his eyes, a broad smile still lighting up his face from your contagious laughter.

“Yeah, right,” he responds with a teasing tone.

"He really was," you affirm, the laughter finally subsiding as your hand softly lands on his forearm.

You’re so high that you can’t even feel your touch on him or even recognize the effect you have on him.

"He always used to say that I had a crush on you," you reply.

“Did he now?” he inquires, doing his best to ignore the way your hand lightly brushes against his forearm.

“Oh my God, yes!” you exclaim, your fingers gliding gently over his skin.

Jason ponders a moment, swallowing hard before he speaks.

"Well...did you?" he asks, a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Your gaze shifts to his, a look of confusion on your face. “Did I what?”

“Christ. You’re so high,” he says with a grin.

"How is it that I’m higher than you when you’ve taken more hits?" You inquire, puzzled.

“You’re just not used to it,” he responds, his voice wavering a bit as your fingertips glide along his arm.

“Made a habit of smoking, have you?” you tease, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“Something like that, I guess,” he says with a grin.

“What were you asking me earlier?” You glance up at him, your eyes feeling a bit heavy.

Jason’s gaze meets yours. “Oh, um—nothing.”

Your fingers trail down to his, playing with them.

“Tell me,” you whisper softly.

“I—I can’t remember,” he stammers.

“Shut up! Yes, you do,” you say, a wide grin stretching across your face. “Just tell me,” you press again.

Jason’s eyes drift to your lips for a second before coming back to your bright eyes on him.

“I just—did you ever, you know, have a crush on me?” Jason asks, clearly feeling a bit awkward.

You chuckled softly, causing Jason to shift noticeably in discomfort.

Your focus shifts back to him, and his discomfort is evident. "Sorry. I just thought it was so obvious," you say, your fingers still gently toying with his.

“I had no idea,” he says, letting out a quiet sigh of relief inside.

“Really?” You inquire, casually leaning in closer to him without even realizing it.

“Yeah. Had no idea,” he exhales. “Wait, why?”

Your face breaks into a playful grin. “What do you mean ‘why’ you’re ridiculously hot?” You exclaim, a hint of laughter in your voice.

“Am I now?” He murmurs, his gaze fixated on your lips.

“Mhm. And you’ve got a nice smile,” you say, unaware that you’ve slipped into the present tense, completely oblivious to his gaze fixated on your lips.

"Yeah?" He prodes, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips.

“And pretty eyes,” you tack on, fingers coming up to drag up his arms.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, his eyelids drooping lazily to halfway cover his eyes at your gentle touch.

Your gaze trails your fingers as they glide up his arms, pausing at his bicep. "And big arms."

Jason leans in before you can say another word, and his lips softly meet yours.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as your hand caresses his cheek, deepening the kiss.

His hand gently rests on your waist as your lips move in perfect sync, but you pull back slightly.

“Your lips are so soft,” you whisper against his, a smile playing on your face. “Knew they would be.”

Jason can’t shake the stupid smile that spreads across his face before he leans in and presses his lips gently against yours.

You and Jason linger in your kiss for a bit longer until he spots familiar headlights making their way down the road toward your house.

Jason pulls back abruptly, swearing under his breath. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing his hand across his face. “Fuck.”

“Wha—what?” You ask in surprise.

“Roy’s gonna kill me,” Jason mutters.

That has you flicking your attention to the street seeing the same headlights Jason saw.

It was your brother driving up.

And you and Jason were up on the roof.

Alone.

Kissing.

“Oh no,” you groan, sitting up too abruptly before easing yourself back down again.

“You okay?” Jason asks, his tone filled with concern as he slowly rises to his feet.

“He—he can’t find out,” you say franticallly.

Jason leans in slightly, his hand brushing gently against your cheek. “Hey—hey. It’s alright. He won’t, I promise,” he assures.

"Come on, I’ll help you through the window," he says, gently lifting you up and guiding you as you slip through the opening.

“Jason,” you say, as he helps you settle down onto your bed.

“Yeah?” He asks, his gaze fixed intently on yours.

“Are we, like, dating now?” Your tone is earnest as you lay entirely on your bed.

He chuckles softly, his breath catching for a moment. "You're too high to be making those kinds of decisions, Sweetheart."

“You're high too, Jason,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I really like you.”

“We’ll talk when we’re both sober. Okay?” He suggests gently. “I’ll swing by to check on you later, alright?” He adds reassuringly, planting a soft kiss on your head.

You give a reluctant nod before he quietly slips out of your room. With your eyes closed, you eventually drift off to sleep.

Jason held true to his promise and quietly slipped away to check on you, even laying a soft blanket over you.

Perhaps he lingered for a moment to share his feelings, but you would have no way of knowing since you were sound asleep.

Or were you?

divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[bunny-jpeg]

sinful sentences (eleven)

oscar piastri - "please, mark me."

tags: smut/pwp, bruises & hickies, jealous!oscar, modified doggy style, body worship & dirty talk, one spank, backshots

sinful sentences catalogue

jealousy was an emotion that oscar piastri felt was childish. to be envious of someone else's accomplishments was just an excuse for someone not to work on themself.

that didn't mean that oscar never felt the familiar pang from time to time. when lando won a grand prix was an example of when the feeling tugged in his gut. but that was nothing compared to the ice cold that ran through his body as he felt a pang of jealousy through him at the sight of you and carlos speaking.

you, dressed in mclaren orange, shouldn't be talking to the likes of sainz. you should be tucked away against oscar and away from the likes of carlos. it could be seen as petty, but when you giggled at one of carlos' comments. he knew that he wanted to mark you.

oscar would be the gentleman, he always was, and guide you away from the ferrari driver. hand on your lower back as he was all smiles with you. but when his gaze locked with carlos, his smile became tinted with something else. something a little more possessive. a warning gaze to the other driver. do not touch what isn't yours. only to have his look torn away when you took him by the cheek and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

you giggled before you pulled away from oscar, you took him by the hand and led him back towards the mclaren side of the garage. back into his territory. where you should be. not letting the spanish driver chat you up like you were on the market. everyone knew that you and oscar were together. but oscar guessed that carlos wasn't getting the memo. oscar let you kiss him again and again and again as you made your way further into the garage.

you fit against him so well. tucked under him like the wing of a bird. your kisses were soft and your lip gloss stuck to his cheek and left a little shine. you giggled and asked, "oscar, honey. your going to get lines before your thirty-five with that look on your face. it might even stay like that!" and lean in further to rub the scrunch in his eyebrows.

oscar smiled and kept an arm around you, "thank you, babe." then leaned in to kiss you on the mouth. he needed to stay focus for the upcoming qualifiers, he didn't need the green eyed monster impacting his performance. with one final kiss he got ready for qualifier.

you weren't stupid, you didn't get your degree in engineering because you were an idiot. and even though you were oscar's cute girlfriend, a darling for the fans, you were keen. had to be to be with a driver of oscar's caliber. while your chat with carlos was friendly, sharing banter before the qualifier, you knew that oscar was seeing green. the relationship between the two of them was tense. you let him escort you back to where you needed to be, gave him kisses and let him wrap himself up in you.

but you knew to sate the jealousy, you'd need to do more than press glossed lips against his warmed cheek. so when you were back in the hotel, you added a little sway to your hips as you went to the bedroom and asked oscar one little question, "oscar, honey. can i have one thing tonight?"

"anything." always the giver.

you looked over your shoulder and with a small flutter of your lashes, you said rather than asked, "please, mark me." and you had never seen oscar trip over himself to get to you as he did in that moment. because who was he to deny his girlfriend anything.

you giggled when you entered the bedroom and he wrapped his strong arms around you. his grip tight as he held you and kissed your neck. your giggles were replaced with gasps when he started to bite at the column of your neck. your hands held onto his forearms and you laughed a little at the feeling. his grip was slightly possessive, but you loved it. you loved him. there was something about him that kept you achy for more. so of course it was only fair that you sated the lingering jealousy in his core.

he started to leave marks, the kind of marks that you knew very little make-up would fix. but it was hot, a certain eroticism that made your core soaked. his teeth nibbled into your skin and made your body grow hot.

"how does that feel, beautiful?" he asked with with a strong hint of want in his tone. he couldn't help it. you shakily exhaled, unable to form words as he continued to mark you up, "you asked for this, you asked to be marked up by me." he pressed himself against your back and licked his lips before he continued to suck and mark your skin.

you held onto him tighter and felt the leap in your chest from the feeling. it was painful, but you loved it. to feel marked by him,owned in a certain way. even though the two of you had a partnership of equals, there was something a little arousing by the feeling of him acting some possessive over you.

"let's get undressed." you said softly and he let you go enough for you to have enough room to get out of the mclaren shirt you wore. the pretty little thing you wore around the paddock, it was cute. but it would look better on the floor. oscar eyed you up and down as you undressed. you looked over your shoulder at him as you got your jeans off and winked at him, "i bet carlos wouldn't know how to handle me. at least not in the way you do." then yelped when oscar pushed you down over the bed with your ass up and your feet still on the carpeted floor.

he eyed your cotton panties, white with roses on them. you couldn't be any sweeter. he licked his lips and ran his hand down your back which made you shudder. he replied, "of course he couldn't. please don't talk about him in the bedroom."

you giggled a little, "of course." you couldn't help but get wet at the feeling. you moaned when he pulled your panties down then started to work at the waistband of his jogger. you moaned louder when he slapped you across the behind which only made you excited.

"someone's wet." he chuckled as he rubbed his finger up against your slit, capturing a bit of wetness. he bought it to his lips and chuckled, "dirty girl." and you shuddered.

oscar got his clothes off, occasionally teasing your pussy with his fingers before he lined his bare cock up with your perfectly. he rubbed it against you teasingly and watched you squirm. it was hot, it riled something up in him until he sank down into you. letting himself feel all of you, every inch of heated pussy. you were soaked, letting your wetness coat his cock.

"that it's, fuck, baby." he shuddered as he felt all your warmth. all your love for him. carlos could never compete, not when oscar's love for you when deep. a longing, a yearning he could never remove himself from. he loved you, and as he held you hips as fucked you up against the mattress, his love took a physical manifestation.

"please, oscar." you said softly as the two of you moved against one another. the feeling was intense, there was a rawness to your passion that left your mind swimming as he held you by the hips and moved against you.

he swallowed back some of the pleasure as he moved against you. he admried your features as pleasure started to coil in your core. he kissed you on the center of your back. he held you by the back of your neck to keep you face down on the bed as he fucked you. it was hard for you, almost on your tippy toes to keep leveled with his cock.

it was cute to see you struggle a little, you were eager for him. that only made you more endearing as he held onto you soft hips and moved up against you. he felt the pleasure in his core as he worked his cock inside of you, letting you both feel the sweetness of passionate sex.

carolos sainz could eat his heart out.

you were not for him, only for oscar. your other half, and oscar loved that fact. you were all his, no one else's, no ferrari fool could steal you away from him. and it only made him press you further into the bed, his thrusts heavy which made you held onto the covers tightly under you.

"fuck."

oscar leaned forward and started to decorate your back with hot kisses, followed by more hickies. you wouldn't be wearing backless dresses for a good while now, not when your skin was tinted purple from the marks. it only excited him more.

as did you, as your nails dug into the covers and the sensation made your back arch, "ah, honey!"

"you feel right for me." he said softly, "you feel so right, every inch of you is perfect." he splayed a hand across your back and rocked up into you. his pace made your toes curl into the carpet under you as you tried to keep yourself upright thanks to the force of his movements.

"you feel amazing too." you said softly, "unlike anyone else. fuck, that feels good. you feel good, oscar. perfect for me." and then let out a sweet moan as he smacked your round behind once more, which you hard to admit made you fairly sexually excited. a rush through you as he moved his hips against your ass.

you were his girlfriend, the love of his life! you were beyond special in his eyes. there was no one else like you that he could ever meet. you were like the rarest mineral he could find in the dirt, something worth admiring. a treasure for him.

the two of you moved together as he fucked you over the bed. soon he wrapped his strong arms around you and moved himself up against you. his cock hit all the right places in you and he watched you struggle to take every inch. he was a bit bigger than average, but he knew more how to make you a whiny, panting mess for him.

you felt yourself grow needy for climax. the feeling was powerful as your back arched a little more as the pleasure coursed through you. you were sweaty and on the knife's edge. you whined into the covers as you let him continue to move up against you. his cock brushed up against all the right areas.

"that's it, that's it." he said softly, "you feel amazing." he held onto your middle a little tighter and continued to hit your sweet spots with each heavy thrust of his hips. his words were true as he fucked you.

"oscar. fuck, i'm close." you panted. there was no one else for you.

and there was no one else for him as he said, "perfect, cum for me, babe. make a mess of yourself." maybe his words were tinged slightly with possessiveness. but you couldn't help it, not when you sounded so beautiful with your cunt getting his entire length soaked. it was hot, erotic in a sense that it only drove him to want to pleasure you further.

"oscar." you whined as you came around his cock. his thrusts continued and you felt like you were on top of the world. you felt the pounding your heart as you pussy clenched around him. it left a head rush followed by a throb as you relaxed your grip against the covers.

"that's it. only one for you. no one else." your sweet boyfriend's tone was heavy with lust as he gave you a few more heavy strokes of his cock. he felt your cunt have a hold on him as he finished inside of you. he let out a heavy exhale as he finished, slowing his pace until he stopped and letting your plant your feet firmly on the ground.

but quickly you were in bed with him, his arms wrapped around you and his sweaty forehead pressed against yours. you both laid in bed and panted heavily against one another. you smiled softly at the closeness, especially with his arm wrapped around you lovingly. his hold was protective.

"i love you." he said softly.

"and i love you." you replied as you turned over to kiss him on the lips. oscar felt more secure in your love for him, that you wouldn't run off with carlos or any other driver. not when your skin was littered with marks of him. better luck next time, sainz <3

[capquinn]

what about quinn just basking in the way bug and mom interact?? its like they have their own secret language and he loves to watch it happen, makes him all fuzzy and warm and just honestly fall in love with you even more (if thats even possible) seeing you as a mom

i just know quinny would find himself tearing up every once in a while when he sees them all soft like this 😭😭

Quinn leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching.

The house is quiet, bathed in the soft glow of the living room lamp. It’s late — Bug should be in bed by now, but instead, she’s curled up against you on the couch, her tiny body tucked into yours, head nestled beneath your chin. She’s talking, voice soft and sleepy, her words tumbling together in that half-lucid way they do when she’s fighting sleep. Quinn doesn’t catch all of it, but he doesn’t have to. Because you do. You always do.

And God, he loves watching it. Loves watching you. Loves watching you as a mother. It comes so effortlessly to you, like instinct, like something woven into your bones. The way you smooth your palm over Bug’s back in long, steady strokes, the way you hum in just the right places, murmuring quiet encouragements, responding to things Quinn doesn’t always follow, like you and Bug are speaking in a language only the two of you understand.

Bug pauses, her little lips pursing, fingers absentmindedly tracing tiny shapes against your arm, a habit she’s had since she was a baby. You don’t rush her. You just wait, patient, steady, your fingertips brushing through her curls, giving her all the space she needs to find her words. After a beat, she exhales, relaxing against you as the words come together in her sleepy little head.

“— and then the bunny had to go home,” Bug murmurs, voice getting sleepier by the second, “but the bear didn’t want her to.”

You tilt your head, waiting, because she always has more to say.

“Mm,” you encourage with a small hum, shifting just enough to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “That’s tough, huh? Bear and bunny are best friends.”

Bug nods against your chest, letting out a little sigh. “Yeah. But… but bunny said, ‘I have to go, bear. My mommy’s waiting for me.’”

You hum again, warm and soft. “Because her mommy misses her?”

Bug nods again, slow, eyes fluttering shut for a beat. Quinn thinks she’s finally given in, finally let sleep take her...

But then, in the tiniest voice, she murmurs, “You’d miss me too, right?”

Your arms tighten just slightly, your lips pressing to the crown of her head, fingers tracing slow, steady paths down her back. Quinn watches it happen — watches the way Bug knows the answer before you even say a word. She doesn’t need to ask again. She feels it in the way you hold her, in the warmth of your touch, in the way you keep her close like you never want to let go.

It’s something innate passing between the two of you, this quiet understanding that doesn’t need words.

Bug breathes out, a tiny, content hum slipping past her lips, her whole body going boneless against you. A smile, soft and sleepy, tugs at the corner of her mouth as she burrows impossibly closer, little fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt, clinging without urgency, without fear. Like she’s heard you loud and clear, even though you haven’t said a single word.

But you do, because you know she still wants to hear it.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur. “I always miss you when you’re not with me.”

And that’s all she needs. She sighs, long and slow, her body going completely slack against you, safe and sure in the way you love her.

Quinn watches, his heart caught somewhere between aching and overflowing, the kind of fullness that makes his chest feel too small to hold it all. Because this — this quiet, sleepy moment, the two of you curled up together, Bug safe and sound in your arms — it’s everything.

Quinn swallows, stepping further into the room, perching on the armrest of the couch.

“She out?” he murmurs, voice hushed.

You glance up at him, smiling softly, your fingers still stroking through Bug’s curls, lulling her further into sleep.

“Almost.”

Quinn reaches out, his knuckles grazing Bug’s cheek, and she makes a tiny sound — somewhere between a hum and a sigh — before burrowing deeper into your warmth, her little hand still gripping onto your shirt even in sleep, like she never wants to let go.

Quinn feels something tighten in his throat. Because he remembers when she was just a baby, small enough to fit in the crook of one arm, when her cries could only be soothed by your voice, your touch. And now, here she is, still finding her safety, her comfort, her home in you.

And God.

He thought he knew love before. Thought he had felt it in all the ways that mattered.

But this? Watching the way you hold her like you were made for this, made for her? Watching the way she leans into you like she doesn’t even need to think about it? This kind of love? It’s something else entirely. Something that makes him want to reach out, to touch, to hold.

So he does.

His hand drifts, skimming over your arm before curling around the back of your neck, his thumb tracing a slow, grateful line against your skin. He leans in, presses his lips to your temple, lingers there for a moment longer than necessary.

You tilt your head just slightly, leaning into him the way Bug leans into you, and that’s all it takes. That’s all he needs. His family, his girls wrapped up in the kind of love that’s steady and sure and so achingly pure that he doesn’t know what he did to deserve it.

You sigh softly, shifting just enough to look up at him, your features soft in the dim light.

“You okay?” you ask, like you can sense it — how full he feels, how something inside him is stretching, expanding, trying to make room for all the love pressing against his ribs.

Quinn just nods, thumb still brushing lazy circles against your skin.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice quieter than he intends. “I just… I love you.” His gaze flickers down, taking in the way Bug is tucked against your chest. “Both of you.”

Your smile is small, knowing, like you already understood before he even said it. Like the secret language you and Bug share, that unspoken understanding, somehow it extends to him too.

“We love you too,” you murmur back, your free hand reaching for his, fingers threading together, squeezing gently. “So much.”

Quinn leans in again, kissing you slow, deep, the kind of kiss that lingers, and Bug stirs between you, sighing softly. You both pull back, sharing a quiet chuckle, and Quinn shifts, slipping off the armrest to settle beside you properly, his arm curling around both of you.

The three of you sit like that for a while, wrapped up in warmth, in love, in the quiet certainty that there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

Because if there’s one thing Quinn Hughes knows for certain, it’s this:

Bug has the best mom in the world.

And him?

He’s the luckiest man alive.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 10 - vulnerability

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, fluff central

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you and rafe had spent the whole afternoon together and it had been everything and more. just like he had promised the other week, he was showing you around LA and never leaving your side.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange as you walked along venice beach, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race.

"you know," rafe said with a smile, glancing over at you, "i’m glad we’re doing this. not just the tour thing, but... you and me, this."

his words hit differently now, sitting down on the beach to watch the gentle waves and the sky change colours.

you looked over at him, "me too," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned back, his playful energy still present, but a hint of seriousness took over him. "i've never done this before." he admitted.

"done what?" you asked him.

"caught feelings like this." he spoke softly, almost scared to say the words out loud.

you reached out to touch his cheek, "me neither rafe." you held his gaze, "there's still so much we have to learn about each other."

"i know, and that's what i'm scared of."

"why?" you questioned.

"i'm scared you won't like the version of me you uncover. i'm not good with my words but, i didn't used to be a good person. i was addicted to drugs, i bought girls home every night to fill a void, i was so unhappy and treated people so badly. but this," he stuck his hands out and pointed between the two of you, "i've never experienced this."

his truth taking you by surprise, but making your heart swell that he was opening up to you this way. "i'm not scared rafe. the rafe i know now is a good guy. i've never met someone like you and i want to know all parts of you even those that you think i won't like."

rafe let out a soft, almost shaky breath at your words. it was as if you had taken a weight off his shoulders without even realising it. his eyes softened, and the air between you two stilled for a moment.

his eyes didn't leave yours, no response was needed, but he pulled you in for a soft kiss full of emotion.

he pulled away to stare at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.

"i’ve been thinking about you a lot," he admitted, almost too quietly. "more than i thought i would. i know we’re still figuring things out, but i can’t help but want to be around you. want to be better because of you."

your heart fluttered at the honesty in his words, the vulnerability making you weak, all laid out in front you.

"rafe, you’re already better. you’ve made it this far and the fact that you're here with me, saying this stuff, shows me just how far you've come. you don’t have to prove anything."

his lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just smiled. without another word, he reached out, carefully taking your hand into his, the touch gentle, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after many hours had passed of gentle touches and soft conversation, you headed back to the hotel in time to join the others and pack before your flight back home tomorrow.

your chest was full of happiness, feeling ready for what was to come.

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a/n: why am i crying writing this they are so cute i hate them

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68

i will be taking people off taglist if that don't interact! just as more people want to be added and need to make it fair<3

[captain-huggy-bear]

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…"

Pairing: Clayton Keller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Clayton is feeling self conscious about his eye since his injury, you are not having any of it.

Notes: I've been noticing that Clay's still got some bloodshot and damage to his eye and just wondered if he feels a little self conscious about it (even though he shouldn't because he's so handsome.)

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

Clayton is staring at himself in the hallway mirror when you get home from running some errands. Turning this way and that, long fingers pulling at the skin around his left eye where it’s still somewhat bruised and swollen. The eye that is still bloodshot and damaged from the puck he took to the face a few weeks ago. It’s been a slow to heal problem, one he seemed to not be bothered by, until now.

When he lets out a rough, heavy sigh and glances over at you with a frown, you know somethings wrong before he even starts to speak. It’s all in the set of his shoulders, in the downturn of his mouth, the way he’s not smiling at seeing you back home.

"I look fucking awful right now." 

The comment has you dropping your shopping bags to the floor, not caring too much about your shopping, hands falling to rest on your hips as you glare at your boyfriend. Your handsome, wonderful boyfriend who had just dared to call himself anything but. 

"Take that back right now." Clay rolls his eyes at you, at the harsh tone of your voice and the way you’re standing like a disapproving parent. He knows he looks awful and doesn’t want your pity, his eye looks like someone’s burst it and the skin around is all weird mottled colours, sickly yellows and greens. It’s ugly. Disgusting. He’s surprised you’ve been able to stand looking at him the past few weeks and he doesn’t want your pity, your false reassurances. 

"But, I do, my eye is so fucking messed up still...fucking ugly." The words are spat out, like they taste bad and they certainly leave a bad taste in your mouth as you close the short distance between the two of you, hands falling to his wrist, landing over his bracelets as you tug until he looks at you. Your thumb brushing against the delicate skin of his wrist. 

Some of your anger, your bite is gone the moment he looks at you because he’s so…so sad, you can tell that Clayton genuinely feels like his eye is ugly, like the bruising, the bloodshot nature of it all, makes him any less wonderful. You’re not used to him being self conscious or sad, he’s always so level headed. It’s usually you in his spot and him in yours.

"How dare you talk about my future husband like that…" Your voice doesn’t have any of the bite that it might have done a few minutes ago, in fact your voice is quiet and soft as you look up at him. Your hand slips from his wrist, fingers twining with his to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N..." He groans low in his throat, deep and scratchy, head tilting and falling to his shoulder. He doesn’t believe you, you can tell, he thinks you’re just trying to make him feel better and that’s just not on. 

A strand of his hair falls forward from where it had been slicked back, you reach up with your free hand to push it back and out of the way, taking the opportunity to cup his face after, fingers rubbing at the skin around his eye gently. 

"I mean it. You're not ugly, it's not possible. The only thing I think when I see your eye is that I hope you're not in pain..." That’s all you’d been concerned about for the past 3 weeks, that Clay was comfortable, that every time you kissed him you weren’t causing him more pain. The idea that he wasn’t as handsome had never even crossed your mind. You’re not actually sure it’s possible for Clay to be anything but handsome.

“You don’t have to say stuff to make me feel better, baby…it’s okay, it’s ugly and it’s fine.” 

“Clayton John Keller.” You snap out, hand cupping his cheek more firmly and turning his eyes to look at you, really look at you as you step further into his personal space, “Stop assuming i’m lying. I have never lied to you, not once.” It’s something you’ve never felt the need to do around Clay, even when you first started dating…it didn’t matter how bad the situation, you knew that Clay wouldn’t judge you or yell at you, so you’d never felt that panic, that need to hide anything from him and you certainly weren’t going to lie about this. “You could lose an eye, you could have bruises across your entire face, a broken nose, split lip, and I would still think you’re the most handsome man on this planet, Clayton Keller and I am not lying about that.”

“C’mon, baby, you can’t seriously tell me that this,” Clay gestures to his eye, to the big red blood spot across his sclera, “is attractive?” 

“Why not? I…” He raises an eyebrow at you when you stop yourself short and you work up the bravery inside you to admit something you’ve kept quiet, “I actually think…this makes me a terrible person by the way and I'm sorry, but I actually think you look hotter injured.” You close your eyes tight, scrunching up your features, before opening one eye to check his reaction.

“What?” He’s stumped, looking at you like you just told him the president was an alien or that chocolate was actually made from insects. Clay’s mouth is open, jaw dropped just slightly, brows furrowed, blue eyes confused and it’s adorable, even if you feel embarrassed about your confession. 

“Look, I know it makes me a terrible person but there’s something about you covered in blood and bruises…” 

A smirk starts to grow on Clay’s face once your words sink in, the closest thing to a smile you’ve seen from him since walking through the front door. His blue eyes gleam with a sort of twisted delight, a mischief that makes your stomach buzz with butterflies, as his dimples start to show on one side of his mouth. 

“...Is that why you practically jumped me after the Winnipeg game, sweet girl?” You don’t even realise he’s corralling you, moving you until your back hits the hallway wall and he’s leaning over you, forearm pressed against the wall beside your head. 

“Shut up…” You murmur it, unable to do much more as your body fills with giddy, nervous energy (the good kind), as your face warms and your toes curl because of how he’s looking at you, all half-lidded eyes and a toothy smirk that makes you want to scream like a teenage girl. How he ever thought he was ugly you can’t comprehend when he makes you feel like you’re combusting right now.

“...You still think I'm handsome?” It’s teasing, mischievious as he leans ever closer, until your only response is a high pitched giggle that gives you away because fuck, he’s so hot…you’re not sure how you nabbed him, what made him pick you of all people, but you’re thankful for whatever convinced him you were the one.

“Baby? Do you think i’m handsome?” He asks again because apparently your giggles aren’t enough of an answer or more accurately because he hates you and wants to torture you even as he smiles down at you all dimples and teeth.

“I always think you're handsome…especially when you smile like that.” 

“C’mere,” It’s silly how he always says that, but he’s the one that moves towards you. Clay’s quick to close the distance between you, slanting his mouth over yours into a sweet but firm kiss, it lasts longer than you expect, long enough for your hands to make their way into his shoulder length strands, long enough for him to practically press you into the wall,  “Thanks for keeping me in check, baby,” He’s practically murmuring it against your lips, not pulling away any further than necessary and you consider this an achievement. That you’ve taken his mood from self conscious and dower, back to teasing and sweet, back to standard Clay. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Just know I'm never going to forget that you’re a little freak who thinks I'm hotter when I'm bloody.”

“Clay, I swear to God!”

[taelortot]

Choso Smau Part 11

Pre relationship texts + immediately after texts

Not proofread :(

Total time knowing choso: 12 months

Thick air surrounds y/n, choking her— suffocating her lungs as she tries to even her breathing. She stares at her phone in her hands, rereading the text that stands out in bold black letters.

“I love you, bunny”

It’s almost as if she can hear him saying it with his low, warm voice. Choso voice was always the most satisfying to listen to. Velvety smooth, like a fresh pot of dark roast coffee first thing in the morning.

“Bunny I love you”

Oh, that was most definitely not y/ns imagination. Y/ns eyes snap up, hands shaking and chest heaving. Dropping her phone to her bed, she stands on unsteady legs, unsure if her best friend knows what those words mean. Unsure is Choso really understand what that will mean for them.

“Baby… please just open the door”

A faint squeak comes from y/ns lips, quickly being covered up with her hands. This isn’t real. It can’t be. In y/ns mind, she was hopelessly in love with her best friend, and he didn’t feel the same way. So she told him to go on a date, so maybe if he had another person to care for… she could move on. And he would never ever have to know.

But, of course not. Things never work out the way y/n wishes they would. Almost as if she has no control over the course her life will follow, just as she has no control over the way her feet move on their own. Closer and closer to the door that separates the two best friends.

“O-okay”

Voice trembling as she reaches out to unlock the deadbolt— a lock choso could have easily broken to get inside of he really wanted to.

“Choso” y/ns hand stills on the cool metal, resting her forehead against the wooden door frame. Choso rattles the door knob, hoping to push his way in. “Tell me you mean it” y/n begs, her voice desperate, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. So close to spilling over.

“I mean it, bunny. I fu-fuck I mean it baby… cmon baby. Open the door for me”

‘Baby’ y/n mouths, a small smile on her lips. Relishing in the way that one little word made her feel. Somehow the word making her melt from the inside out. An eruptions of butterflies swarming deep in her tummy, wanting to burst out of her chest. It was so out of character for Choso to say that word. She was always bunny.. and now she’s wondering what possessed him to call her that pretty name.

“Okay” y/n nods, unlocking the deadbolt. As soon as Choso hears the click, he’s pushing the door open, not meaning to use as much force as he had. Just feeling so desperate to see y/n, to explain to her these feelings he has.

“Bunny”

“Cho”

No more words. Just staring at each other in the barely lit room, as if time has stopped. Heart pounding so loud choso is sure y/n can hear it. Shit— he was sure she could see the way it was practically beating out of his chest, rattling around his rib cage as if it bursting out of his chest was the only way she’d believe his words.

Thud

Thud

Thud

“Cho-“ “shhh.. ju-just” the large man steps closer, closing the small gap between them. His callused hands reaching out, gently cupping y/ns face. Thumbs caressing her rose tinted cheeks with a tenderness neither knew he possessed.

Dark brown eyes searching, looking for any sign that she wants him to stop as he moves closer. Eyes darting between y/ns and her pretty lips. The lips he’s been dying to feel against his for over a month now. Y/ns eyes fluttering closed is enough of a sign for Choso to take. So he does.

It’s so pathetic— the noise that escapes chosos throat as he pushes his slightly chapped lips against y/ns perfectly smooth lips. Not caring that they taste a little salty from the popcorn she was eating just moments ago. Y/ns bottom lip slotted perfectly between both of his. One hand moving from her face to the back of her head, fingers carding through her soft hair—not leaving any room to move away. Never getting away from him, not after this.

The feeling is so hard to describe. Choso doesn’t understand how something so simple can feel so good and mean so much. Y/ns hands bunch up in Chosos white tee, pulling him closer. Needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to be as close as possible as their lips work together like they’re meant to be doing this.

So perfectly in sync, moving at a rhythm that was soft and sweet. Y/n so pliant in Chosos hands as he kicks the door closed with a slam, and nudging her back, deeper into the small room.

“Cho” y/n whimpers in her delicate voice that Choso loves so much, breaking the kiss, but not moving back. Pupils blown wide, breath heavy and the smallest smile gave it all away. Choso didn’t need to hear what y/n was going to say, he already knew just from the way she was looking at him. And he wasn’t so sure why it took him so long to realize that she always looked at him like this.

“I love you too Cho”

But it still felt good to hear out loud.

“Who told you to call me baby?” Y/n giggles as Choso tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear like this is some sort of romance movie.

“Gojo says that’s how he gets all the girls to fall for him”

Guess Gojo was right for once.

I am not a good writer.. but I’m trying :( I used to write a lot and was pretty decent, so im just getting back in the groove.

Yall! I got this emo boy to start calling me bunny and now I’m living my Wattpad fantasy lol

ALSO!!! I love to write psycho stalker obsessed type stuff.. so who do you think would be like that from jjk??? And I’ll write it :)

Taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @ersharyzst @koreluvsspring @gradmacoco @emlient @namjooningera

[riqomi]

FIRST KISS ˖ 엔하이픈

엔하이픈 ˖ 𝑓em!r .. g. fluff ──── BOOKSHELF ( 1285 ) tw. skinship kissing ‎

heeseung ; a gentle and caring moment

heeseung had always been a calming presence, and tonight was no different. as you two sat under a soft blanket of stars, the night air cool but not uncomfortable, he smiled at you with that familiar, gentle warmth. there was no rush in the way he held you close, and the atmosphere felt completely serene.

he turned towards you, his gaze soft, as if he were memorizing the way the light of the stars reflected in your eyes. “you look amazing tonight,” he whispered, the words flowing naturally from him.

heeseung didn’t need to say much more; the sincerity in his voice spoke volumes. he slowly leaned in, his lips brushing against your forehead before gently making contact with your lips. the kiss was slow, intentional—every second a soft promise of care and affection.

he pulled away slightly but kept his forehead against yours, his hand softly cupping your cheek. “i just want to make sure you feel special... always,” he murmured. his smile was the kind that made you feel like the whole world was right, just in this moment.

jay ; a calm and romantic kiss

the atmosphere was peaceful, like the world had slowed down just for the two of you. jay had planned the evening with an air of quiet thoughtfulness—a small candlelit dinner on the balcony, a soft breeze flowing through the night. it was the kind of setting that instantly put you at ease.

jay took a moment to glance around, breathing in the calmness of the night. then, he turned his attention to you, his gaze warm. “this feels perfect,” he said, his voice low and soothing.

without hesitation, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours gently. the kiss was soft, as though he wanted to savor every second. he didn’t rush, allowing the moment to linger. when he pulled away, his hand brushed against your cheek, and he gave you a smile that felt like home. “i wanted tonight to feel as peaceful as you make me feel,” he whispered, his voice full of tenderness.

jake ; a shy but heartfelt kiss

jake, with his calm and reassuring nature, had always been the type to take his time. the two of you had spent the evening laughing, chatting, and enjoying each other’s company, but now, in this quiet moment, his heart was beating just a little faster.

you both sat on the couch, the tv playing softly in the background, but neither of you were paying attention to it. you caught jake looking at you from the corner of his eye, his cheeks slightly flushed. he hesitated for a second, then smiled shyly.

“i… um… i really like spending time with you,” he murmured, his words almost getting lost in the moment.

you smiled at him, your heart skipping a beat as he slowly leaned forward, his breath soft against your lips before he kissed you. the kiss was gentle, tender, a reflection of how carefully he handled everything. it was sweet, with a sincerity that made your heart melt. when you both pulled back, jake’s shy smile was all the confirmation you needed that he was feeling exactly what you were.

sunghoon ; a soft and meaningful kiss

the night sky was clear, and you both stood outside, the cool air wrapping around you like a blanket. the stars above created a perfect backdrop for the moment, and sunghoon, with his quiet but captivating charm, led you to a quiet spot away from everything.

“i thought this place would be nice for us,” he said, his voice low but filled with a certain depth that always made you feel special.

the two of you stood in silence for a moment, simply enjoying the view and the connection between you. sunghoon then turned toward you, his eyes locking with yours with an intensity that made your heart flutter. he reached out, gently pulling you closer, and you felt the warmth of his hand on your back.

his kiss was soft, but it held an undeniable depth. it was like he was telling you everything through that one moment—how much he cared, how much he wanted you to feel loved and cherished. when he pulled away, his gaze never left yours. “you mean a lot to me,” he whispered, his words as heartfelt as his kiss.

sunoo ; playful and sweet

sunoo had a natural charm that made everything feel effortless, and tonight was no different. you both had spent the evening goofing around, making jokes, and just having fun. but you could tell there was something about him that made you feel extra special tonight.

“you know,” sunoo began with a grin, “i think you’re the sweetest person i know.”

you couldn’t help but smile at his playful energy. “oh, really?” you teased, tilting your head. “and why’s that?”

“well, because i have to shower you with love,” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “let me show you.”

and before you could react, sunoo leaned in, giving you a quick but sweet kiss on the lips. it was playful, light, and full of warmth, leaving you giggling as he pulled away, a teasing smile on his face. “there, all done.”

you laughed, your heart feeling light and happy from his sweetness. “you really know how to make me smile, sunoo.”

jungwon ; a thoughtful and tender kiss

jungwon had a way of making everything feel incredibly special, even the smallest moments. tonight, he had planned something simple, but you could tell how much effort he had put into it. he had cooked dinner for the two of you, and the room was filled with the sweet aroma of his homemade dish.

after eating, he suggested you both go for a walk, just to enjoy the cool air and the peace of the evening. as you walked side by side, jungwon kept stealing glances at you, his hand subtly brushing against yours every so often.

eventually, he stopped walking, turning to face you with a shy but loving smile. “i just wanted to do something nice for you,” he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “you deserve the world.”

with that, he leaned in slowly, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tender kiss. it was the kind of kiss that made you feel deeply seen and loved—each second filled with emotion. when he pulled back, he held you close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “thank you for letting me be a part of your life,” he whispered, and you knew in that moment that he meant every word.

ni-ki ; playful and fun

ni-ki, with his youthful energy, loved to keep things light and full of fun. tonight, he decided to surprise you with something unexpected. after a day of running around, he had taken you to the park, where you both were laughing and just enjoying each other’s company.

you turned to him, noticing the mischievous glint in his eyes. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

without warning, ni-ki leaned in, planting a playful, quick peck on your cheek before pulling away with a laugh. you blinked in surprise, your hands flying to your cheek where he had kissed you.

“ni-ki!” you giggled, not knowing whether to laugh or be slightly embarrassed by his sudden boldness.

he grinned ear to ear. “i just couldn’t resist. you’re too cute,” he said, his voice filled with laughter. you both ended up laughing together, the moment feeling lighthearted and sweet. that spontaneous kiss was full of fun, and it made the whole night feel like a memorable adventure.

three posts in a day, i'm that bored. pls like and reblog !!

[insidekatmind]

Valentine’s Day-Alejandro Balde

The night of Valentine's Day has arrived, wrapped in a dreamlike atmosphere. Barcelona is illuminated by a thousand lights, the streets are deserted, and the sky above you is a deep blue, with stars dancing to the rhythm of your love. The cold of winter is only faint, but the warmth you feel beside you, in Alejandro’s figure, is enough to make you forget every shiver.

Alejandro takes your hand, and when his skin touches yours, a shiver of happiness runs through your body. "Are you cold?" he asks sweetly, and without waiting for your answer, he wraps you in his jacket, holding you close. His closeness feels like an embrace that protects you from the world.

"I want to give you a night you'll never forget," he says in a soft voice, almost a whisper, as if afraid to ruin the enchantment of that moment. His eyes are full of affectionate determination, and you can’t help but melt in front of him. Your heart beats faster, feeling that, somehow, he knows exactly what makes you happy.

You follow him as he leads you to a quiet corner of the city, where the streets are silent, and the sound of your steps is lost in the echo of the night. In the distance, you see a small carriage pulled by a white horse, moving slowly toward you. Alejandro smiles at you and motions for you to get in. "A surprise for you," he says as he helps you settle beside him, and the carriage starts moving gently.

The sound of the wheels on the cobblestone is the only noise that breaks the silence. The city stretches before you, with its narrow alleys and ancient buildings that shine under the moon. You look around, enchanted, but your gaze quickly returns to him. Alejandro is so close, and his hand on yours is warm, reassuring. Occasionally, his fingers brush yours with infinite tenderness, as if afraid to break the spell.

"Did you know that for me, Valentine's Day isn’t just a date on the calendar?" he asks, his voice light but full of meaning. "Every moment with you is special. Every day, every smile, every little gesture. But tonight..." His words pause for a moment, as if he’s searching for the right ones. "Tonight, I want you to know how much I love you."

Your heart explodes in your chest, and your response comes out without thinking: "I love you too, more than words can say."

The carriage stops in front of a quiet park, and Alejandro gently guides you to a wooden bench, covered with soft cushions. There, beneath a tree decorated with soft lights, it feels as if the whole world has stopped to give you space. Every breath you take seems to synchronize with his, and the beat of your hearts merges into a single rhythm.

"I wanted it to be perfect," he says, looking at you with intensity, as if you were the only thing that exists in his world. "Because you’re perfect for me."

Without saying a word, you move closer and place your hands on his face, your thumbs gently caressing his skin. The air is charged with emotion, with a silent tension that grows between you, and in an instant, his lips find yours. The kiss is tender at first, a gentle contact, but it quickly deepens, as if telling a story that only the two of you understand.

Every gesture, every caress is an expression of love, desire, and passion that needs no words. Time seems to stretch, as if the night never wanted to end. And while your eyes lose themselves in his, the world completely dissolves. The only thing that matters is him, and you, together, in a corner of eternity.

"It will always be like this," Alejandro says between kisses. "Always with you."

And in that moment, with your heart beating in unison with his, you know that nothing will ever separate you. The night of Valentine's Day turns into a memory that will remain forever engraved in your hearts.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I have something for Johnny if you want.

Johnny x shy!reader that has scarlet witch powers? Being Johnny girlfriend and Johnny family adores shy!reader

‘I’m starting to think my family likes you more then me at this point.’ Johnny says one day as he face planted your shared bed.

‘How so Johnny?’ You asked sweetly as you waved your hand as you brought a blanket over your boyfriend’s body with your magic, never failing to notice the soft smile that grew across his face as he lifts himself from the pillow to face you.

‘Are you kidding me? I mean look at you!’ He exclaims as he gestures to all of you shamelessly, making you feel a little exposed by his beautiful brown doe eyes that never seemed to fail in making you melt. ‘You’re sweet, compassionate, adorable to an unfair extent it makes me question how a being as beautiful as you could exist, and did I forget to mention that you’re an absolute badass with your powers?’ Johnny adds with a smirk as he saw how easily affected you were by his words as he counts off everything he found to adore you for on his fingers.

You groan playfully as you smacked Johnny on his bicep, a sheepish smile began to spread across your lips, all the while attempting to fight back the butterflies that were making their presence known within your stomach. It didn’t matter if you were dating Johnny for a few weeks or a few months, for he would always find ways to make you feel as though no time has passed between the two of you.

You at first didn’t want anything to do with the cocky, overly confident, playboy known as Johnny Storm and stayed away from him for a good while…until you couldn’t and it lead to what you considered the best decision you ever made in agreeing to let him take you on a date. However recently Johnny’s sister Sue, her husband Reed and Ben had been taking note of the subtle changes within johnny and knew someone was the reason behind it, which had lead to Johnny dragging you to the Baxter building more times then you can count to meet his family; whom of which had grown a fondness towards you and your positive influence on Johnny himself.

‘Johnny…’ you drew out his name as you buried your head into his shoulder, holding him close as you selfishly leeched off of his warmth, not that you’d ever tell him this but you were certain with how eager he was to keep you in his arms chuckling. He was very much aware and was more than willing to indulge you as he was just as much addicted to your soft, comforting hugs that he swore to high heavens he would die without.

‘I’m not lying! You should hear them half of the time! Where’s y/n? Johnny, go get your better looking partner. Johnny, where is my future sibling in law, you can’t hog them all the time.’ Johnny replied as he made dramatic voices for the likes of Sue, Ben and Reed based on the most recent interactions with them, most of which were asking for you or wondering how you were in general. Johnny didn’t mind, if anything he was downright ecstatic knowing that his family were just as obsessed with you as he was, he adored how you and his sister got along the most; knowing straight away from the moment he found you and his family sharing stories in the kitchen that this was something he wanted to see more often in the future.

Commitment wasn’t his thing, it never was until he met you, and as cliche as that sounded -and he knew just how cliche it came across- but it was true and Johnny wouldn’t want it any other way. He’d even claim you had put some type of spell on him, to which you only hide your smile from his groan inducing joke in regard to your magical abilities. He even remembered the day that he realised that you were the type of person he wanted to bring to his family, something he never gave a deeper insight into before you mind you as he never felt that deep of connection.

So everyday when he wakes up to see you cuddled into his side peacefully and safely, he considered himself the most luckiest man alive, and he didn’t bother to hide it either as he bragged to anyone with ears that someone as wonderful as you had chosen a hotheaded stud muffin -his words- like him.

You smiled as you cuddled further into him, knowing firsthand that he was right, and you were still getting use to the idea that his family adored you from the moment Johnny brought you to your first of many Sunday family diners. You remembered sweating bullets and tugging at your formal attire, but Sue and Reed were more than welcoming and reassuring, meanwhile Ben was full on teasing Johnny about how he was growing into a true man.

However before you could respond you were quick to remember that you were very much late for your day out with Sue. You gasp upon realisation as you push Johnny away from you, who fell back into the bed, staring up at the ceiling in disbelief that you had just pushed him away. ‘I’m late!’ You cried as you moved away from your baffled boyfriend, who had propped himself to his arms.

‘Late for what?’ Johnny asks as he watched you sort yourself out for an outing he wasn’t aware was taking place.

You smiled softly, not wanting to give too much away of what you and Sue had planned prior. ‘Sue wanted help to find something for Reed for Valentine’s Day, and I agreed to help her.’ You half lied, well you weren’t lying about helping his sister find something for Reed, but what you had left out was the fact that you were also using this time to find something for Johnny yourself. To you he deserved something for being such an amazing partner, and you were thankful that Sue was more than happy to help you in doing so during your most recent late night conversations with the blonde woman.

‘I just want to find something for him that he’ll love,’ you told Sue as you allowed your magic to flourish between your fingertips, a nervous habit you had developed the moment you realised that you were capable of feet’s no other magic user has ever accomplished before, it was a comfort to you and brought your mind back to what was most important to you and what was most important to you was Johnny smiling.

She smiles, glad to know that her brother was blessed with someone like you, reached out to grab your hand in hers as she squeezed it in reassurance. ‘Whatever you get him, I’m certain Johnny will treasure forever.’

‘Really? You really think so?’ You asked her, still a little nervous despite having been with Johnny for a while, but that man had a way to make you feel as though you were falling for him all over again and you wanted to hate him for it, and yet you found yourself becoming shy and flustered whenever the man even threw his arm over your shoulder. If this was what love was like then you hoped to stay in this never ending state of adoration and mutual understanding for as long as you could.

‘I know so.’ Sue replied, her eyes had a knowing look to them. ‘Johnny would take anything you give him becuase you were the one that give it to him, that thought that he would like it and all he’ll care about is that you had him on the mind and to show that you care about him.’ She finished, squeezing your hand again when she saw sparks of your magic come to life at your fingertips, rubbing her thumb across the back of your hand. You smiled at her. ‘Then I can’t wait for tomorrow.’ You tell her, beaming.

Johnny smiled from his place on the bed, again happy to see you and his sister bond and become close to one another, it was a simple thing that he didn’t know he needed but then again that was the magical thing about you. You made him want simple and small things that he would’ve taken for granted, or not even considered in the first place, and for that he couldn’t help but find himself wanting moments like this in your future together.

However before Johnny could open his mouth to push you for more details on your outing with his sister, the door opened to reveal Sue stood on the other side, obviously having been waiting for you but not showing an ounce of annoyance in the slightest.

‘I’m here to steal your partner.’ Sue says to her brother as she grasps your arm, pulling you to her side.

‘Not the first time my beloved is being stolen from me by you, Reed or Ben.’ Johnny scoffs playfully as he watched you and Sue link arms, already acting like you were in laws for a long time with how relaxed and comfortable you were with one another.

‘Oh you can have them back as soon as we’re finished shopping.’ Sue retorted.

‘So like ten hours from now?’ Johnny sarcastically replies with and you couldn’t help but laugh at the sibling squabble, making him look at you with a warm smile. ‘Don’t I get a goodbye kiss at least from my most beloved?’ Before you could give him his kiss, Sue drags you out of the room with her and out the door, though not before shouting over her shoulder followed by your laughter. ‘You’ve had enough time today to trade kisses, now you have to wait.’

Johnny only groans dramatically as he flops back onto his bed, impatiently waiting for you to come back not even seconds after you left his room, he really was in love like the sappy bastard Ben teased him in being.

[yikesdrama]

for one perfect moment 🩵 (ii) — Bucky Barnes

summary: bucky's birthday is coming up soon and you just want to do something special for him, maybe even take a time travelling trip to see his maa....

word count: 7k

warnings: fluff, kisses and lots of cuteness

a/n: please comment, like & reblog with your thoughts. this is the second part, there’s one more coming up next weekend!

masterlist | part 1 • part 3

previously— Winnie's gaze snapped to yours, her eyes narrowing slightly. "How do you know all of this? You've never told me who you are, or why you care so much about my James." You hesitated, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the table. For the first time, you looked unsure, as though the question had caught you off guard.

But then you straightened, your gaze meeting Winnie’s with quiet determination. “I care because he deserves to have someone care. And I know because… I’ve seen him. I’ve spoken to him. I’ve seen how much he loves his life now, how hard he’s fought to be free of what they did to him.”

Winnie studied you closely, searching for any hint of deception. But there was none. Whoever you were, whatever strange circumstances had brought you here, you believed every word you said. And somehow, impossibly, so did Winnie.

“Why didn’t he come himself?” Winnie asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “If he’s alive, if he’s free… why hasn’t he come home to me? You came from the future, why couldn’t he?”

Your expression shifted, a flicker of sadness crossing your face. “I think… I think part of him doesn’t know how. After everything he’s been through, it’s hard for him to believe he deserves that kind of peace. And part of him is afraid—afraid of how much he’s changed, of what you might think of him now.”

“Think of him?” Winnie’s voice rose, trembling with emotion. “He’s my boy. My James. There’s nothing he could do, nothing he could have gone through, that would make me love him any less.”

You smiled faintly, a hint of relief softening your features. “I know that. And deep down, I think he does too. But it’s hard for him to see it sometimes.”

Winnie let out a shaky breath, her fingers brushing against the edge of the table. “He was always stubborn,” she murmured, her voice tinged with affection. “Even as a boy, once he got an idea in his head, you couldn’t talk him out of it.”

You chuckled softly, and the sound was warm, like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Yeah,” you said, your tone fond. “He’s still like that.”

For a moment, you both sat in silence, the weight of the conversation settling between you. Then Winnie straightened slightly, her gaze sharpening as another thought struck her. “You said Steven is alive too.”

You nodded. “He is. He and James are living together now, in Brooklyn.”

“In Brooklyn?” Winnie echoed, her brow furrowing. “You mean to tell me those two fools survived everything they went through and still ended up back here?”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine. “I guess they couldn’t resist coming home.”

Winnie shook her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips despite the tears still glistening in her eyes. “Of course they did. Those two were always thick as thieves. If there was trouble to be found, they’d find it together.”

“They still do,” you said, your smile widening. “But they’re good now. They’ve made a life for themselves—a real life. They’re happy.”

Winnie’s chest tightened, a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. It was too much to process, too much to believe, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to doubt it.

Her boys. Alive. Together. Safe.

“I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.”

You reached across the table, your hand warm and steady as it covered Winnie’s. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Winnie’s fingers tightened around yours, gratitude and hope flooding her chest in equal measure. But before she could speak again, your expression shifted, a hint of nervous energy creeping into your gaze.

“There’s… something else,” you said slowly, as though choosing your words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about James. About what he’s been through, and what he’s lost. And I was wondering…” You hesitated, your eyes searching Winnie’s face. “Would you want to see him?”

Winnie froze, her breath catching in her throat. “See him?” she repeated, her voice barely audible. “You can do that?”

Your grip on her hand tightened slightly, a spark of determination lighting your eyes. “There’s a way. It’s… time travelling just like I did, and it might sound crazy, but I can bring him back here. Just for a week. For his birthday.”

Winnie stared at you, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. “You mean… you could bring him here? From the future?”

“Yes,” you said, your voice steady. “It wouldn’t change anything in the timeline—he wouldn’t be able to stay permanently—but it would give him a chance to see you. To have that time with you.”

The room felt impossibly still, the weight of the offer pressing down on Winnie like a physical force. Her heart raced, her thoughts spinning wildly as she tried to comprehend the enormity of what you were suggesting. To see her boy again. To hold him, to tell him everything she’d held in her heart for so long.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

“I’m sure,” you said firmly. “But only if you want it. If it’s too much, I understand.”

Winnie shook her head, fresh tears spilling over as a trembling smile broke across her face. “Too much? No. It’s everything. It’s more than I ever dared to hope for.”

You smiled, relief and warmth radiating from you like a beacon. “Then I’ll make it happen.”

Winnie let out a shaky laugh, her hands clutching yours as though you might vanish if she let go. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

For the first time in several months, hope blossomed in Winnie’s chest, a fragile but undeniable light cutting through the darkness. Her James was coming home. Even if only for a week, it would be enough. It would be everything.

As Winnie sat back in her chair, clutching her teacup as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. Across from her, you watched her with patient, steady eyes, your hands folded neatly on the table. For all the warmth and kindness in your expression, there was a subtle alertness about you, as if you were bracing yourself for whatever might come next.

“So,” Winnie began softly, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her, “when are you bringing him here?”

You hesitated, your lips pressing together before you answered. “It won’t be immediate,” you said gently. “I still have to take care of a few things back home. Time travelling needs to be done very carefully.”

Winnie nodded slowly, turning the words over in her mind. “I see,” she murmured, though the concept was as baffling as everything else you had told her that day. “And it’ll be both of them? James and Steven?”

You tilted your head slightly, your brows knitting in mild confusion. “You want to see Steve, too?”

“Of course I do,” Winnie said, her voice firm now. “That boy… he was as much my son as James was. They were inseparable. Always running off together, getting into trouble. Steven was smaller, quieter, but oh, the mischief they caused.” She let out a soft, wistful laugh, her eyes shining with memory. “When James wasn’t pulling some prank, it was Steven. And when they weren’t eating me out of house and home, they were convincing Rebecca to smuggle cookies from the pantry. Those boys were mine, y/n. Both of them.”

Your face softened, your gaze warm with understanding. “I’ll bring Steve,” you promised. “He’d want to see you, too.”

Winnie leaned forward slightly, her expression serious. “You tell him he’d better show his face. I may be older now, but I can still box his ears if he’s too stubborn.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the heaviness of the moment. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that felt less like avoidance and more like a quiet acknowledgment of everything they’d shared. Winnie sipped her tea, her mind racing with thoughts of James and Steven, of how different they must be now, and yet still the same in ways that mattered. She wanted to ask more—so much more—but she didn’t know how much more she could take before he brain began hurting.

You cleared your throat softly, breaking the quiet. “I’ll leave you something to help,” you said, pulling a small, unfamiliar device from your pocket. It was sleek, metallic, and fit neatly into the palm of your hand. You placed it on the table between you, your expression thoughtful. “This will let you know when we’re coming. It’ll turn green when we’re on our way.”

Winnie stared at the strange object, her fingers twitching with the urge to touch it. “And I’ll know it’s them?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “When it lights up, you’ll know we’re coming in less than 2mins. But until then, it’s important that you don’t tell anyone about this. Not even Rebecca.”

Winnie nodded, though the request gave her pause. “Why not?”

“It could change things,” you said carefully, your tone deliberate. “The timeline is… fragile. Even the smallest change could ripple out and affect the future in ways we can’t predict.”

Winnie frowned but didn’t press further. She trusted you, even if your explanations left her head spinning. “I’ll wait,” she said finally, her voice steady. “Whenever you’re ready to bring them, I’ll be here.”

You smiled, relief flashing briefly across your face. “Thank you.” You rose from your chair, smoothing your hands over your strange, unfamiliar clothing. “I should go,” you said softly. “But I’ll be back soon. But please… don’t tell anyone else about this. Not until it’s time.”

Winnie nodded, though her mind lingered on the odd tension in your words. “I won’t,” she promised. “And thank you… for everything.”

As you stepped toward the door, you paused, “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Barnes,” you said quietly before slipping out the door.

Winnie watched you go, the strange little device still sitting on the table, its metallic surface catching the light. She didn’t understand everything—perhaps she never would—but one thing was clear. You cared deeply for her son, in ways that went beyond mere kindness or duty. And while Winnie couldn’t quite put her finger on it, she had a feeling there was more to the story than you were letting on.

With a quiet sigh, she picked up the device, turning it over in her hands as a small smile tugged at her lips. Her boys were coming home. And no matter what secrets you might be hiding, Winnie would be ready.

The first thing Bucky became aware of was warmth—a soft, familiar weight pressed against his waist, accompanied by a flurry of something tickling his skin. His brows furrowed as his body stirred, torn from the haze of sleep by what felt suspiciously like lips pressing against his face. Again and again. Across his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, and down along his jawline.

“Doll,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep. “What’re you—?”

Before he could finish, another kiss landed on his chin, followed by a soft giggle that melted whatever protest he’d been trying to muster. He cracked one eye open, his gaze greeted by you perched on his waist, your legs folded neatly on either side of him, and face lit up like you’d just won the lottery.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you chirped, leaning down to plant another kiss on his forehead. “Time to wake up.”

Bucky groaned, letting his head fall back against the pillow. “It’s too early for this,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself.

“It’s never too early to kiss your grumpy face,” you retorted, your voice dripping with mischief as your trailed kisses down the side of his neck. “Plus, I made you breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” he repeated, cracking his other eye open now. His arms moved instinctively to settle on your hips, steadying you as he shifted slightly. “What kind of breakfast?”

“Only the best for my birthday boy,” you said grinning. “Chocolate chip and caramel pancakes, strawberries, and an Americano. Your favorite.”

Bucky’s lips parted slightly, his mind catching up to her words. “Birthday boy?” he echoed, groaning again as the realization hit him. “It’s not my birthday yet.”

“Close enough,” your voice sing-song as you leaned down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “It’s your birthday week, Buck. So, get used to it.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as his arms tightened around you. “You’re insane, you know that?”

“Insanely in love with you,” you quipped, tilting your head to press a longer, slower kiss to his lips.

Bucky sighed into the kiss, his initial sleepiness melting away as he pulled you closer. One of his hands moved up your back, his fingers tangling lightly in your hair as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of you against him. When you both finally broke apart, you were breathless, your cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

“Morning kisses are dangerous,” you teased, nipping lightly at his bottom lip before sitting back on his lap.

“You started it,” he countered, smirking. “Don’t blame me for finishing it.”

Your laugh was soft and musical as you traced fingers lightly over his chest. “Come on, lazybones.”

Bucky groaned in protest but sat up, leaning back against the headboard as he adjusted you so you stayed steady on his lap. He glanced around for his T-shirt, his brow furrowing when he didn’t see it where he’d tossed it the night before.

“Where’s my shirt?” he asked, leaning over slightly to check the floor beside the bed.

When he looked back up, he froze mid-sentence, his lips parting as he took you in fully. You were sitting there, looking as sheepish as you were smug, wearing his shirt. The fabric hung loosely on your frame, the sleeves too long, and the hem brushing against your bare thighs. It was unmistakably his, and you looked too damn cute for your own good.

“Doll,” he said, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Did you steal my shirt?”

You gave him an innocent smile, tugging lightly at the hem as though to draw attention to your handiwork. “Maybe.”

“You little thief,” he teased, narrowing his eyes as a playful grin tugged at his lips.

“You left it lying around,” you shot back, tone matter-of-fact. “And besides, it’s comfy. Smells like you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to tug gently on the sleeve. “You’re lucky you look so damn cute in it.”

“I know,” you said, grinning triumphantly.

He leaned forward suddenly, his arms wrapping around you, as he flipped you both over onto the mattress. Your squealed in surprise, your laughter spilling out in a way that made his chest ache with how much he loved you.

“Admit it,” he said, pinning your wrists lightly above your head as he hovered. “You’re obsessed with me.”

You grinned up at him, utterly unrepentant. “Guilty as charged.”

Letting out a soft laugh, Bucky released your wrists so he could cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “Because I’m pretty damn obsessed with you too.”

Your smile softened, eyes shining as you reached up to pull him down for another kiss. This one was slower, sweeter, a quiet promise exchanged. When you both finally pulled apart, you gave him a playful shove.

“Alright, birthday boy,” you said, sitting up and smoothing your hands over his shirt. “Let me get your breakfast before it gets cold.”

As you moved to get up, he caught your wrist, tugging you back toward him. “Wait,” he said, nodding toward the wardrobe. “If you’re going out there, grab me another shirt.”

Your brows raised, a mischievous glint sparking, “Why?”

“Because I’m not walking around half-naked,” he said, his tone dry.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head as you gave him an appraising look. “Why not? You’ve got a drool-worthy body, Buck. Let me enjoy the view for a little longer.”

Bucky groaned, running a hand down his face as he tried not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” you countered, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead before darting out of the room.

When you returned a few minutes later, balancing a tray of food, the smell of coffee and pancakes wafted through the air. Bucky’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and you grinned, setting the tray on the bed between you both.

“Breakfast in bed,” you announced, settling cross-legged beside him. “Made with love.”

Bucky gave you a soft smile, his heart swelling at the way your eyes lit up. “Thank you, doll.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” you teased, picking up a fork and spearing a piece of pancake before holding it out to him. “Try it first.”

He raised an eyebrow but leaned forward to take the bite, his eyes widening slightly as the flavors hit his tongue. “Okay, that’s good,” he admitted, his tone slightly muffled.

“Told you,” you said smugly, popping a piece of pancake into your own mouth.

You ate together like that, trading bites and teasing each other in between sips of coffee. At one point, Bucky fed you a strawberry, laughing softly at the way you wrinkled your nose when the juice dripped onto your chin. You were radiant, completely in your element, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by how much he loved you.

“So,” he said finally, setting his fork down as he leaned back against the headboard. “What’s the plan for today?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Bucky groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why do I feel like I should be nervous?”

“Because you should be,” you teased, leaning over to steal another kiss. “Now, finish your breakfast so we can get started.”

He rolled his eyes but did as you asked, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years. Whatever you had planned, he knew it was going to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his day—and his life—with you by his side.

A hour later Bucky was leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping on the last of his coffee, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges from the shower. He was still trying to piece together why you had been so hyperactive all morning. Sure, it was his birthday week, but you were practically vibrating with energy, flitting from one room to the next like a woman on a mission. He’d never seen you this focused—and that was saying something.

“Bucky!” you voice called from the bedroom.

He pushed off the counter with a soft chuckle, setting his mug in the sink before making his way to you. “Yeah, doll?”

As soon as he stepped inside, you turned to him with those big, sparkling eyes that always managed to undo him. You were standing on you tippy toes, pointing toward the upper cupboard above the closet. “Can you get the suitcases down for me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Suitcases? Why do you need those?”

You shot him a grin, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “We’re going on a trip! For your birthday.”

That made him pause. “A trip?” he repeated, his brow furrowing slightly as he stepped toward the cupboard. “What trip?”

“You’ll see,” you said, clearly enjoying his confusion. “But Steve’s coming too.”

Bucky froze, halfway through reaching for the suitcases. He turned back to look at you, an incredulous expression crossing his face. “Steve’s coming? Why is Steve coming on my birthday trip?”

“Because he’s your best friend,” you said matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And it’ll be fun.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching with amusement. “You’re planning a trip for my birthday… and you invited Stevie?”

“Yes, Do you have a problem with that?” you asked, hands on your hips.

“Not exactly,” he muttered, grabbing the suitcases and setting them down on the bed. “But it’s a little weird, doll. Most people don’t bring a third-wheel on a romantic getaway.”

You rolled your eyes, already unzipping one of the suitcases. “Who said it’s a romantic getaway? Maybe it’s a fun getaway.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips. “You’re up to something.”

“Maybe,” you said coyly, grabbing a stack of neatly folded clothes from the dresser and dropping them into the suitcase. “Now stop asking questions and help me pack.”

Bucky sighed but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

He stepped closer, pulling open the drawer with his T-shirts and folding a few into the second suitcase. As he worked, he watched you out of the corner of his eye, the way his brows furrowed in concentration and the little hums you let out as you double-checked your packing list.

“What’s with all the jewelry boxes?” he asked after a moment, nodding toward the growing pile of items you was slipping into a side pocket.

“Accessories,”

“And the electronics?”

“Essentials.”

He raised an eyebrow but decided not to push. You was obviously on a mission, and he wasn’t about to interrupt the flow.

By the time you added a small bag of expensive makeup to the pile, he couldn’t help himself. “Doll, are we going to a luxury fashion show or something? Because this is starting to look like a lot.”

You shot him a playful glare. “It’s not a lot. It’s exactly what we need. Now hush and fold your socks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for his drawer. “Yes, dear.”

A few minutes later, Steve wandered into the room, followed by Sam, who was munching on an apple and looking entirely too amused by the situation.

“What’s all this?” Sam asked, gesturing to the suitcases.

“Packing,” you said brightly, tossing another pair of jeans into one of the bags. “We leave tomorrow.”

Sam’s brows lifted, and he exchanged a glance with Steve, who grinned knowingly. “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?” Steve asked, his tone almost gleeful.

“Of course not It’s a surprise.” you said.

Bucky crossed his arms, leveling everyone all with a suspicious look. “You three are up to something. I can feel it.”

Sam snorted. “You’re just now figuring that out?”

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with the hint of a smile.

Bucky couldn’t help but feel a strange warmth settle over him. The easy banter, the laughter, the way you kept sneaking glances at him as though you couldn’t help yourself—it all felt so… normal. And for someone who’d spent decades trapped in chaos and darkness, normal was a gift he didn’t take lightly.

“Alright,” you said finally, zipping up the last suitcase with a triumphant flourish. “I think we’re good to go.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? You didn’t pack the kitchen sink yet.”

Rolling your eyes, you stepped closer to poke him in the chest. “You’re lucky I love you, Barnes.”

He grinned, catching your hand and pulling you into his arms. “I know,” he murmured, his voice softening. “And I love you too.”

Your smile brightened, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. It didn’t matter where he was going, all that mattered was you—the way you looked at him, the way you loved him, the way you made him feel like he was finally, truly home.

“Alright, lovebirds,” Sam called, breaking the moment with a dramatic sigh. “Save the mushy stuff for the trip.”

Bucky shot him a mock glare, but his hold on you didn’t loosen. Instead, he leaned down to press a quick kiss to your temple before turning back to the suitcases. Whatever you had planned, he knew one thing for sure: with you by his side, it was going to be perfect.

Bucky Barnes wasn’t a fan of surprises, but he was even less of a fan of being blindfolded, especially when it involved Steve holding his hand like they were reenacting some 1940s screwball comedy.

“Stevie,” he grumbled, his voice muffled by the blindfold. “If I trip and fall on my face, you’re paying for my dental work.”

Steve snorted, his grip firm as he guided Bucky down what felt like an endless corridor. “Relax, Buck. I’ve got you. You’ve been blindfolded for what? Five minutes?”

“Five minutes too long,” Bucky shot back, his tone dry. “I’m a trained assassin! I could probably tell you how many steps we’ve taken, what direction we’re headed, and what Sam’s chewing on back there.”

From behind, Sam made an exaggerated crunching sound. “It’s gum, genius. Cherry-flavored. Want some?”

“No,” Bucky growled, trying to keep his balance as Steve tugged him forward again. “What I want is to know what the hell is going on.”

“You’ll see soon enough,” your cheerful voice piped up from somewhere ahead. “Stop being so grumpy. It’s your birthday trip!”

“Grumpy is my default setting,” Bucky muttered, though his lips twitched with a small smile. It wasn’t like he could stay mad—not when your voice carried that spark of excitement, like you couldn’t wait to share whatever scheme you’d cooked up.

“Just keep walking, Barnes,” Steve said, a smirk evident in his tone. “You’ll thank us later.”

Bucky let out a long-suffering sigh but kept moving, his enhanced hearing picking up the faint hum of machinery in the distance. The sound grew louder as they walked, and he could feel the air shift slightly, the faintest vibration underfoot giving away their location.

“We’re headed toward the back of the compound,” he muttered.

“Man, can’t get anything past you, huh?” earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Nope,” Bucky deadpanned, though his focus sharpened as they came to a stop. He could hear Tony’s voice now, low and clipped, exchanging words with you. Something about suits?

“Here you go,” Tony said, his voice dripping with his usual snark. “Try not to break my suit, lovebirds.”

“Suit?” Bucky repeated, his brow furrowing beneath the blindfold. “What suit?”

“Hold still, Buck,” you said sweetly, and before he could respond, he felt something cool and metallic snap onto his wrist.

“What the—?” He flinched as the sensation spread, a sleek, nanotech suit wrapping around his body in an instant. It clung to him like a second skin, and he had to fight the instinct to rip it off. “Why the hell do I need a suit?” he questioned.

“Because you’re going to need it,” you said cryptically.

“Need it for what—”

“Goodbye, Nat!” you called, cutting him off as you waved toward the direction of Natasha’s voice.

“See you back in a jiffy,” Natasha replied, her tone amused.

Bucky froze. Jiffy? His enhanced brain worked through the context in seconds, piecing together the sounds, the cryptic comments, and the tech now covering his body. His heart stuttered.

“Doll,” he said slowly, his voice low and worried. “Are we—”

Before he could finish, the ground shifted beneath him, and his words were swallowed by the rush of noise and light.

The Quantum Realm.

The pull of it was disorienting, like being dragged through a vortex, the world around him blurring into streaks of color and sound. He instinctively tightened his grip on Steve’s hand, though he silently cursed the situation. Why did Steve get to hold his hand? He wanted it to be you.

Seconds—or maybe mini seconds—later, the chaos abruptly stopped, and Bucky felt himself thrown forward. He landed with a thud, groaning as the impact knocked the breath out of him.

“Get off of me, Buck,” Steve grumbled from beneath him.

“Not my fault you’re always in the way,” Bucky muttered, rolling off of Steve just as you collapsed onto both of them in a fit of laughter.

“This is the best thing ever,” you declared, clearly unbothered by the pile-up. “We did it!”

“Yeah, great,” Bucky said, sitting up and rubbing his head. “Where the hell are we?”

You scrambled to your feet, practically bouncing as you grabbed his hands and tugged him up. “You’ll see. Ready?”

He raised an eyebrow, his suspicions deepening. “Not until you tell me—”

“Nope!” you interrupted, reaching up to untie his blindfold. “No spoilers. Just… trust me, okay?”

Bucky sighed, his irritation melting under your excited voice. “Fine.”

As the blindfold fell away, the world came into focus, and Bucky felt his breath catch in his throat. His surroundings were achingly familiar—the cobblestone street, the faint smell of fresh bread from the bakery two doors down, the little white house with blue shutters and a squeaky front gate.

It was home. His home. The one from the 1940s, where his ma had lived with his sister.

He stared, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Every detail was perfect, from the worn brick chimney to the hydrangeas blooming by the front porch. It was as though he’d stepped back in time, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Doll,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “Is this…?”

“Happy birthday, Bucky,” you said softly, your eyes shining with love. “Welcome home.”

His knees nearly gave out, the weight of the moment hitting him all at once. He turned to you, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. But there were none. What could he possibly say to this? To you?

Instead, he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as his chest heaved with the effort of keeping his emotions in check. You wrapped your arms around him without hesitation, your head resting against his shoulder, holding him just as firmly.

“Thank you,” he choked out after a long moment, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your smile was soft, your fingers brushing against his cheek as you pulled back to look at him. “You deserve this, Buck. All of it.”

For the first time in a long time, Bucky believed that. And as he turned back toward the house, his heart felt lighter than it had in decades.

The tiny gadget sat on the edge of the kitchen counter, its metallic surface catching the morning light streaming through the window. Winnie Barnes had made a habit of glancing at it every time she passed by, though she’d tried not to obsess over it. It had been a month since the young woman, with a quick smile and a strange, unworldly confidence—had appeared in her life, promising something that felt too impossible to believe.

But today, when Winnie glanced at the device, she froze. The tiny light on its surface was glowing green.

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she set down the towel she’d been folding. Her fingers hovered above the gadget, trembling slightly, before she pressed it, feeling the faint warmth of the metal beneath her touch. It had turned green, just like you had said it would.

Her boys!

Winnie’s chest tightened, her heart racing as she stared at the device. You had promised—you’d promised to bring Steve & Bucky home, even if only for a little while. And now, after weeks of waiting and wondering if she’d been foolish to believe, it was happening.

A knock sounded at the door, sharp and purposeful, and Winnie’s breath hitched. For a moment, she couldn’t move, her legs frozen beneath her as her mind raced. Then, as if on instinct, she grabbed her apron and wiped her hands, hurrying toward the door. Her heart pounded with every step, anticipation and disbelief swirling together in a dizzying mix.

When she opened the door, her breath left her in a rush.

There he was. Her James.

He stood on the stoop, taller than she remembered, broader too, with his hair cut shorter than the boyish waves she’d last seen. He looked like a man now, with a shadow of a beard and eyes that carried a weight she couldn’t begin to imagine. But those were his eyes, her boy’s eyes, and they softened the moment they met hers.

“Ma?” Bucky said, his voice low and tentative, as if he were afraid to break whatever spell had brought him here.

Winnie’s hand flew to her mouth, tears already blurring her vision. “James,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Oh, my sweet boy…”

Before he could say another word, she closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close. He stiffened for a moment, as though startled by the embrace, but then he melted into her, his arms coming up to hold her tightly. She felt his chest heave, the soft hitch of his breath against her shoulder, and she held him even tighter, as if letting go might make him disappear.

“You’re real,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“I’m here, Ma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m here.”

It was only then that she realized they weren’t alone. Just behind him, standing a step lower on the stoop, was another familiar face—Steven Rogers. He looked much the same as she remembered, though his shoulders seemed broader, his stance steadier, and there was a kindness in his gaze that she remembered and it made her heart ache.

“Steven,” she said, her voice breaking as she reached for him.

Steve smiled softly, stepping forward to wrap her in a hug that was just as firm, just as full of love. “Hi, Mrs. Barnes,” he said, his voice warm and familiar. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too, Stevie,” she said, pulling back to look at him, her hands cupping his face. “You look well.”

“So do you,” he said with a smile.

Her gaze flicked back to James, and she shook her head, tears streaming freely now. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re both here.”

James reached up to wipe a tear from her cheek, his hand trembling slightly. “It’s real, Ma. We’re here.”

Her gaze darted past them, searching for the one person who had made this miracle possible. “Where’s y/n?”

“Right here, Mrs. Barnes,” you called, stepping out from behind the boys with a wide grin. You were carrying a small backpack slung over one shoulder, your eyes sparkling with the same enthusiasm Winnie had seen the day she first met you.

Winnie let out a soft laugh, her hand pressing to her chest. “You did it,” she said, her voice filled with wonder. “You brought them home.”

“I told you I would,” you said, grin widening. “Happy early birthday to Jamie.”

James turned to you, his expression a mix of awe and gratitude. “You… you planned this on your own?”

You shrugged, your smile turning a bit sheepish. “Well, Steve and Sammy helped, but yeah. I thought you might like to see your mom again.”

Bucky stared at you for a long moment, his mouth opening as if to say something, but no words came out. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, his grip firm and unyielding. “Thank you,” he said, his voice low and filled with emotion. “Thank you, doll.”

Your arms wrapped around him without hesitation, your head resting against his chest as you smiled softly. “You’re welcome, Buck.”

Winnie watched the exchange, her heart swelling as she took in the sight of her son standing there, alive and whole, surrounded by people who clearly loved him. It was more than she could have hoped for, more than she dared to dream.

“Come inside,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement. “Come in, all of you. I’ll make tea.”

James smiled, his arm still draped around your shoulders as he turned to follow her inside. “Tea sounds great, Ma.”

Winnie watched the three of them file into her modest kitchen, her chest so full it ached. James was here. Her James. He was alive, and standing right there in front of her. She’d spent so many months mourning the boy she thought she’d lost to the war, but now she couldn’t stop staring at the man he’d become. He moved like someone who carried too much weight on his shoulders, but there was something else in his posture, too—something lighter, steadier. A calmness she didn’t quite recognize but found herself grateful for.

“Ma, you don’t have to do all this,” James said, his voice soft as he reached for the teapot she was preparing. “We can handle it.”

“Don’t you ‘Ma’ me, James Barnes,” she shot back, swatting his hand away. “You just sit down and let me take care of my boys.”

Bucky blinked at her, clearly startled, before a small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Winnie continued, turning her attention to Steven Rogers, who was already leaning against the counter. “I’m not above putting you to work, Steven. You’ve got all that super-soldier strength—bring the bags in before your friend over there starts yelling.”

She nodded toward you, currently perched on the armrest of the couch, rummaging through a stack of photo albums you’d pulled from the shelf.

“I already yelled,” you said cheerfully, waving a hand toward the door. “You all just didn’t hear me. Stevie, come on, move those muscles. Make yourself useful.”

Steve rolled his eyes but pushed off the counter with a resigned sigh. “I liked you better when you were quieter,” he muttered, as he headed toward the door.

“You’ve never known me to be quiet, Rogers,” you called after him, your grin widening.

Winnie couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she turned back to the teapot. “She’s got quite the mouth on her, doesn’t she?”

“She always does,” James said, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone. His gaze followed you as you hopped up from the couch and began poking through a drawer, muttering to yourself about “how vintage everything is.”

“She’s… something else,” Winnie murmured, her lips curving into a small smile.

James smiled at that, his expression softening. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Ma.”

The words hit Winnie like a wave, her hands stilling as she poured the tea. She looked up at her son, her heart swelling at the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. It wasn’t just affection she saw there—it was something deeper, something that made her throat tighten with emotion.

“She loves you,” Winnie said quietly, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “I can see it.”

James nodded, his jaw tightening slightly. “Yeah. She does.”

There was something unspoken in his tone, something heavy that Winnie didn’t miss. She set the teapot down, stepping closer to him and placing a hand on his arm. “And you love her.”

It wasn’t a question, but James nodded again, his gaze dropping to the floor. “More than I ever thought I could,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “She… she makes everything feel worth it, Ma.”

Winnie squeezed his arm, her heart aching with both pride and sorrow. She didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. She’d seen it in your eyes the day the you had come to her door, explaining everything James had been through—the torture, the brainwashing, the years stolen from him by Hydra. It was a kind of pain no mother could bear to imagine, and yet here he was, standing before her, whole and loved and somehow still her James.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “I always have been.”

James looked up at her, his blue eyes shining with unshed tears. “Thanks, Ma.”

The moment was interrupted by a loud clatter from the living room, followed by your unmistakable voice. “This drawer is just socks! Who keeps a whole drawer of socks?”

“They’re not just socks,” Winnie called back, her tone amused. “They’re darning socks!”

“Darning socks?” you repeated, appearing in the doorway with one of the socks in question draped over your hand like a puppet. “What even is that?”

Winnie laughed, shaking her head as she reached for the teapot again. “It’s what we do when socks get holes in them. You’d mend them instead of throwing them out.”

You blinked, clearly baffled. “You can… fix socks?”

“People in this era did,” Winnie said, chuckling at the younger woman’s expression. “Though I doubt you’re one of them.”

“Definitely not,” you said, grinning as you tossed the sock back into the drawer. “But that’s cool. Vintage socks. Got it.”

Steve chose that moment to reappear, a suitcase in each hand and an expression of mild annoyance on his face. “Happy now?” he asked, glaring playfully at you.

“Ecstatic,” you said, beaming at him. “You’re such a gentleman, Stevie.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve muttered, setting the bags down by the door. “Just don’t ask me to do anything else.”

Winnie watched the exchange with a mix of amusement and affection. It was chaos, but it was her chaos, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. For the first time in what felt like forever, her house was filled with laughter and life and love. And as she looked around at the people who had made it possible, she couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest woman in the world.

“Alright,” she said, clapping her hands together as she stepped into the living room. “Who’s ready for tea?”

“Me!” you called, plopping down onto the couch and kicking your feet up. “But only if there’s cookies.”

Winnie smiled, her heart full as she nodded. “There’s always cookies, sweetheart.”

James met her gaze from across the room, his expression soft and filled with gratitude. She nodded back, her silent promise unspoken but understood: they were home, and for as long as she had them, she’d make sure they never felt alone again.

To be continued….

[benz12313]

Delirium Part 2/3 - Ridoc x Reader 🌶️

{Images are not my own}

Summary: You and Ridoc have been dancing around each other for months, just on the cusp of becoming something more. All it takes is a rough week and a bit of liquor to have you become putty in his hands, and he's been dying for the chance to carry you to his bed. [Takes place during Iron Flame]

Warnings: ‼️(MDNI) 18+ explicit content‼️, smut, oral female receiving, p in v, smut with feelings, swearing, fem!reader, drunkenness, unprotected sex, angst? if you squint?

Part 1/3 - Part 3/3

Authors Note: This took me waaaay too long to write but goddamn was it worth it in the end. Can't wait for the final part to wrap things up and deliver a happy ending for you all. :)

Word Count: 2,847

It took us longer than it really should have to make it back to Basgiath, but two make-out sessions in particularly dark hallways, one particularly hard staircase to conquer (ironically one of the few with railings), and about fifteen minutes worth of giggling together drunkenly and we’d somehow made it to Ridoc’s room. It took him three tries to lock the door in place, but he was finally able to channel enough that we both heard the locks click in place. And then he was consuming me.

His delicious mouth on mine, pushing and pulling, but ever in control as I wrapped my arms around his neck, fingers threading through his curly brown locks. Gods how did he get them this fucking soft. I whined as he slipped his tongue in my mouth, and then let out a surprised squeal when I was suddenly being hoisted into the air, his hands firmly on my ass. I wrapped my legs around him and he squeezed his hands, groaning into my mouth as he hastily turned us, pinning me deliciously between him and his door. 

“Gods,” I whined when he moved from my mouth to my jaw, nipping and biting, then smoothing over the marks with his tongue. Keeping me hovering between pleasure and pain in such a maddening way. 

“Ridoc is fine.” He said, voice husky and strained. And then he was biting down on the juncture where my neck met my collarbone, making my vision blur and my body arch. My core rubbing over his stiff cock through our clothes, Ridoc’s hands digging into my ass so hard I knew he’d leave bruises, holding me against him. 

“Fuck! Ridoc!” I yelped, glad for the standard sound shields on the rooms, because any restraint I’d ever possessed was long gone. 

He pulled back, and my heart ached. Gods, he looks so fucking handsome. Plump, kiss-swollen lips coated with saliva, lightly panting as he stared down at my neck. Eyes so dilated that his normal chocolate brown eyes were nearly fucking black, and scanning over my neck so possessively that it made my thighs tighten around him. He was flushed, whether from alcohol or exertion I wasn’t quite sure. 

“That should be good enough.” He muttered to himself, even going as far as to nod, before his eyes met mine again. I didn’t even have time to ask what that was about before he started speaking. “How do you want this to go Princess? Quick? Slow? Painful? Sweet? As long as it involves you, me, and my furniture I’m down. Ask and you shall receive.”

“I want you Ridoc.” The confession comes out a lot more raw than I mean it to, but I don’t have time to think about that, not when he’s begun to smirk again, like I’ve said exactly what he wanted to hear. A smirk that makes me way wetter than it really should. 

“You’ve got me Y/N.” He said, but then we’re turning, and in the next moment I’m on my back, his arms on either side of me exactly how they’d been behind the tavern. Except this time he was grinding into me, making my head spin as I desperately tried to calculate how big he was, because the absolute monster in his pants had to be smaller than I was thinking. It must be drunk calculations right? There’s no way he was as big as he felt. 

He tilted his head down at me, thinking, before sitting up, leaving me gasping and wanting. He chuckled, hand flying out and pressing my chest down, back into the bed when I’d started to chase after him. He clicked his tongue, “Tsk. Don’t worry now. I’m not going anywhere. Not when I’ve finally got you exactly where I’ve been wanting you, looking so fucked out and pretty in my bed. I wish you could see yourself right now Y/N.” He took his shirt off then, and I was wholly distracted. A thin layer of sweat glistened over his ripped muscles. Over the past year and a half I’d watched him go from lean and barely muscled, to the absolute powerhouse straddling me right now. The man over me could overpower, could dominate, could kill, easily,and the thought only turned me on more.

“How about I turn that pretty little head of yours to mush, yeah?” He was back down in my space, lips ghosting over my own as one of his hands laced through my hair and the other sliding under my shirt by my waist. “You’ve had such a rough week Princess, how about I use my fingers or tongue to ease your worries?”

“Oh,” I panted, “Is that tongue useful for anything other than making smart ass remarks? I wasn’t aware-EEK” I screeched, then tumbled into giggles as he bit down on the top of my cleavage before shooting a mischievous grin up at me. 

His eyes danced with emotion, and I couldn’t help but push back the curls getting in his eyes, as my chest warmed. “Let me get your clothes off and I can show you exactly what this tongue can do.” He teased, pecking me on the lips a few times before letting his tongue loll playfully, causing me to giggle. “Quit being so cute,” he muttered into my jaw, “It’s gonna make this hard when you try to run away in the morning.”

Before I could even process his words his hand had left my hair, joining his other on my waist, and pushing my shirt up slowly, kissing every inch of skin that he’d newly exposed and effectively wiping my brain. “You’re so soft. How the fuck-“ He groaned as his mouth met my ribs and my breathing faltered. His mouth feels so fucking good. He pulled my shirt up over my head, tossing it behind him. I arched to let him unclasp my bra, and that quickly joined my shirt. Then his mouth was on my chest, taking one breast in his mouth like a man starved, his other hand grabbing the free one and squeezing, rolling and pinching so expertly I could barely track the movement through the waves of pleasure. 

“Fuck! Ridoc pleassse.” I whined, begged, and writhed, all while holding him to my body, wanting him closer, as close as he could get. “I need you.” The words were broken, begging. “Stop teasing, I need you.” It was a downright plea, and his eyes met mine. Flickering over my face, assessing, and whatever he found there made him took pity on me because he sighed, resting his chin in the valley between my tits, eyes fond and warm. 

“Still want my tongue first?” He asked and I nodded, maybe too eagerly, because he let out a depraved chuckle, “Course you do. Bet you’ve been imagining my head between your thighs more than you’d like to admit.” I flushed bright red, because of course he was right, he’d starred way too many of my fantasies. His fingers hooked under the waist of my leathers, and in seconds he’d tugged them off. Expertly one might say. 

That’s all it took for me to be bare beneath him, quivering with excitement, or pleasure, or nerves? Maybe all three at this point. I bit my lip as his mouth moved down my body, sucking, nipping, licking any spot that he deemed worthy, which felt like all of me. Anticipation built, until I was ready to shove him down where I wanted him myself, sick of waiting as he took his sweet ass time. 

“Fuck Y/N, you’re so fucking wet for me,” He hissed, eyes drinking in my soaked pussy, “Thank you Loial.” He grunted before diving into my heat like it was a damn buffet. 

Then my entire world crashed around me because Ridoc, fucking, Gamlyn finally put his mouth to good work. My body was flame, ironic enough as a palpable chill had consumed the air in the room. I thanked the gods that my signet wasn’t one of fire, because Ridoc’s bed would have surely caught flame. Every flick of his tongue over my clit sent shudders through me, pleasure coiling again in my gut, but with much more intensity than it had when I’d fucked his thigh. 

All I could comprehend was him, as one hand held my waist down to keep from squirming away from him and the other sunk one of his long fingers into my dripping hole. Gods, he felt so good. I’d had plenty of good sex, at least I thought I had, but no one had ever used their tongue and a single finger so skillfully on me before. Sloppy yet precise, curling and coaxing until I was a mewling mess, eyes shut and clutching at his sheets and pillows like they could keep me from floating into absolute weightless bliss. 

He added another finger, sucked harshly on my clit and then I snapped. Not even the headboard grounded me as I flung my eyes open, only to see that delicious white light as my body arched and thighs clenched around his head. Pleasure blinding me as he continued, never even pausing as I drenched him in my release. Only letting out a moan, and adding another finger, overstimulation clouding my thoughts, but I didn’t dare stop him. Not when everything he was doing felt so good. 

“Look at you Princess. And those pretty moans. You like my tongue like this? Making you feel good?” He was babbling, so obviously pussydrunk already, making me moan and clench on his fingers as they curved deliciously hitting that spongy spot that made me see stars. He dove in again, moaning, groaning, and rubbing his hips into the mattress. Trying to seek the pleasure he was giving me. 

“Ridoc,” I whimpered and he groaned, shaking his head, and I let out another string of moans, “P-p-please Ridoc, I need you in me.”

“O-one more, Princess.” He grunted, barely meeting my gaze, “One more and then I’ll fuck you until the only word you know is my name. Just one more. Please. Just…fuck…eyes on me Y/N.” He dove in again and I did as ordered, locking eyes with him as he let loose once again. It was different this time though, his eyes soft and coaxing, as he shattered me completely, making me squirt all over his face as my climax hit me hard, vision going black. 

I came to with Ridoc gently kissing my neck, whimpers getting his attention as his eyes quickly found mine again. “You back Y/N?” He asked, thumb so gently running over my cheekbone, his other arm propping him up, keeping him from pressing his weight on me. 

“Was I gone?” I whispered, voice cracking, which surprised me. Had I screamed?

“For a minute there? Yeah.” He smiled cheekily. “Kinda an ego boost if I’m being honest.” 

“As if you need anything more to inflate your ego.” I breathed out and he laughed, making my heart swell. 

“Still want more? Or are you done for tonight?” He checked in, eyes hopeful, but I knew he wouldn’t push if I was. Gods, he could be so sweet sometimes it made my chest ache. 

“I still want you Ridoc.” It was true, I felt so heartbreakingly empty now that his fingers were gone. “I need you.”

He smiled, kissing me and then eagerly reaching down, kicking off his leathers in seconds. An expert maneuver that surely had taken time to master and had me staring in surprise. Then he was reaching down, and my eyes curiously followed his hand’s movement. My eyes widened in shock. He was fucking huge. I thought it was bluster. Jokes. Maybe a bit of cockiness. But it definitely wasn’t, and honestly? I wasn’t even sure that it could fit.

“Scared Princess?” I nodded, still frozen in shock as he pumped it once, twice, three times, and drool dripped down my chin as his cock weeped out the tip. His cock head deep red and begging for attention. “Damn Y/N,” his voice was absolutely dripping with male satisfaction, “Really working hard to inflate that ego of mine, huh?”

“Can I taste it?” The words tumbled out before I knew what I was saying and he laughed, lighthearted, but definitely still teasing. 

“Fuck baby, you’re not even listening anymore are you? Whip out my cock and all you can think about is wrapping your pretty little lips around it, huh?” My face reddened as my eyes snapped back to his. He was grinning from ear to ear, “How bout this? You let me stuff it in that tight little pussy of yours tonight, and then if you feel up to it, you can suck it whenever you’d like any other day?” 

I was nodding, not caring what I was agreeing to, just knowing that if I did, I’d get to taste him eventually. I could wait right? No matter how delicious he looked?

He pushed my thighs open, staring back down at my soaked pussy before his eyes found my own again. Soft, inviting, and way too fucking sentimental. “Ready?” He whispered, bending over me, to place a sweet kiss on my stomach. 

“Please,” I whimpered, resigned to beg more if I had to, but he had mercy on me. He ran his thick length along my entrance, thoroughly coating himself in my slick before he lined it up, and pushed in, in one hard thrust. 

“Fuck! Ridoc!” Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes at the sensation of the delicious sting. I was so full, so wonderfully whole, now that his cock was within me, taking up space within me like no other had before. The alcohol in my veins had nothing on the high that his dick was giving me, just from filling me. 

“It’s okay Princess-“ He groaned and dropped his head to my shoulder panting as his hands flew to my hips, gripping so tight I knew I’d find bruises tomorrow. “Godsdamnit, you’re squeezing me so fucking good Y/N.” He nuzzled into my neck, peppering it with kisses. “You’re so wet and warm for me-fuck-“ He groaned as I wrapped my legs around him, pulling him close as I gripped his shoulders for support. He started moving then, groans tumbling out as he started up a punishing rhythm, losing himself in the feel of me. 

I wasn’t much better though, in fact, the moment he started moving, all thoughts had ceased to exist. Everything beyond this bed faded, and suddenly all that mattered in this world was Ridoc Gamlyn.  

Ridoc. The way he smelt of sex, pine, and something else distinctly male. Ridoc, and the way his rough hands tugged and pulled at me, yet worshipped me with every touch. Ridoc, and his mouth, curses, praises, and just pussydrunk babble tumbling from his tongue that I couldn’t understand, because I was just as cockdrunk. Ridoc, and the way he held me, cradling me like I was made of fucking glass while he relentlessly pounded into me. Ridoc Gamlyn, making me fucking love him with every thrust into me. Every touch. Every whisper and groan and half-formed joke as we both chased our highs together. 

“R-ridoc.” I stuttered, unable to get anything else out through the delirium. My pleasure rose, until I was teetering on the fucking edge again. Gods, if he kept it up at this pace it wouldn’t be long-

“Cum for me, I’m right here, I got you.” He assured, hand flying down to rub quick circles on my clit. “Let it go.”

Three circles and I was screaming again. His name I think. Honestly too gone to know for sure, but I clamped down hard, as he fucked me through it and slammed his mouth to mine, swallowing my cry. His hips were stuttering, and then one orgasm crashed right into the next one as warmth filled me. He’d found his own release in mine. His hands swept up my body to cradle me, pull me into his body as he let his body collapse onto my own. 

He lazily thrusted a few more times, kisses dwindling into mere touches, before we stilled completely. Panting, sticky, and completely wrapped around each other. Ridoc. My mouth couldn’t find words, which was probably best, because everything I wanted to say felt like too much and not enough at the same time. 

He groaned and snuggled closer, before gently maneuvering us so I was laying on his chest, and we were still connected. His dick was soft but still nestled within me, and it didn’t seem like Ridoc had any plans to remove it as he wrapped his blanket around us both, taking care to make sure I was extra comfy, before he buried his face in my hair. 

Exhaustion pulled at me, and Ridoc sighed. “Just stay tonight at least, please?”

“Mhm.” It was all I could muster, before I could no longer fight my drooping eyes, and I succumbed to sleep.

@xadenswhore @littlemissmelodie

[arcadia-smith]

Note: Gonna be like 4 or 5 parts of this one. I've had this planned for so long.

Summary: I think the title speaks for itself.

TW: idk, angst, fem!reader is a traitor, Simon Riley is pissed. Mention of blood, torture. Let me know if I've missed anything.

Flashback—Two Years Ago

The campfire crackled, casting flickering orange light over the small clearing. It was one of those rare nights—no mission, no gunfire in the distance, no orders barking through comms. Just a handful of them out in the open, the cold air nipping at their skin while smoke curled into the dark sky.

Ghost sat across from you, mask off, but the skull-painted balaclava still hung around his neck. A rare sight, one not many got to see. His face was all sharp angles, tired eyes shadowed by the weight of too many sleepless nights.

“You keep staring like that, I’m gonna start thinking you’re in love with me,” you teased, poking at the fire with a stick.

He huffed, shaking his head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You smirked. “Maybe.”

Ghost leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees. The firelight made his eyes glow, sharp and unreadable. “You always like playing games?”

Something in his voice made you pause. The teasing between you was common, but there was something different about tonight. The air was heavier. Charged.

“Depends on the game,” you murmured.

He studied you for a long moment, the quiet stretching between you. Around you, the others had already begun turning in for the night, leaving just the two of you with the fire and the dark.

Ghost’s voice was quieter when he finally spoke again.

“You ever think about leaving?”

You frowned. “Leaving what?”

“This life. The missions. The constant fightin’.” His fingers flexed, curling into loose fists. “Ever think about just... walking away?”

You exhaled slowly, considering him. “No,” you lied.

Ghost gave a short, knowing laugh. “Bullshit.”

You rolled your eyes, but he wasn’t wrong. The thought had crossed your mind before—more than once. The weight of it all, the things you'd done, the blood staining your hands. There were nights you dreamed of just disappearing.

But you never thought he did.

You watched him carefully. “Why are you asking?”

His gaze flickered to the fire, jaw tight. “No reason.”

You nudged his boot with yours. “Liar.”

Something passed over his expression—something raw, something real. It made your stomach twist, made you want to reach for him, to—

“I just…” He hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. Then, softer, “There’s gotta be more than this. More than just killin’ and losin’ people and waiting for the next fight.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Because, in the end, that was all you knew, wasn’t it?

You forced a smile. “You planning on running off, Riley?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “Not without you.”

The words hit you harder than expected.

Not without you.

You swallowed, the fire crackling between you, the world feeling too small all of a sudden.

If things had been different...

Maybe.

You nudged his boot again, this time softer. “Better be careful, Ghost. Someone might think you actually care about me.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t joke.

Instead, he just held your gaze and said, “Yeah. Maybe I do.”

And for the first time in a long time—you didn’t have anything clever to say back.

Present

Your wrists are bound. Ankles too. The cold steel of the chair presses against your spine, the weight of your capture sinking in. But you don't beg. You don't cry. You simply watch him.

Ghost stands before you, arms crossed, the balaclava masking everything except those sharp, piercing eyes. Eyes that had once softened around you. That softness is gone now. Replaced by something colder. Something lethal.

“You gonna start talking?” His voice is rough, scraped raw from battle, from betrayal. From you.

You tilt your head, feigning confusion. “About what?”

His gloved fingers curl into fists at his sides. He’s not stupid. You knows that. He’s watching, waiting, searching for the lie before it even leaves your lips.

“Don’t pretend you’re some meek, pathetic little girl,” he growls, stepping closer, the weight of him suffocating. “Not when I can see that vicious mind working behind your eyes.”

Your lips twitch—half amusement, half something else. “You always did see too much.”

“And yet, not enough,” he spits. His hands slam down on the arms of the chair, caging you in. “I trusted you.”

Something flickers in your expression, something so quick that most wouldn’t have caught it. But Ghost does. Regret? Guilt? No. It’s not that simple, is it?

“You shouldn’t have,” you murmur.

His fingers twitch like he wants to grab you, shake you, make you tell him why you did it. Why you sold them out. Why you left him picking up the bodies of men who should still be alive.

Instead, he exhales sharply, dragging a hand down his mask like it might help steady him.

“You don’t get to sit there and act like this wasn’t your choice.” His voice is lower now, dangerous in a different way. “You chose this. Chose to lie. Chose to betray us. Betray me.”

Your gaze drops to his chest, the black combat vest littered with dirt, dust, blood—none of it his. You wonder how much of that blood is because of you.

When you speak again, your voice is quiet. Almost regretful.

“If you were in my position, you would have done the same.”

Ghost goes still. His entire body. Like a predator moments before the kill.

“I’d never be in your position.”

You smile then—small, sad. “That’s what you think.”

For the first time, uncertainty flickers in those dark eyes of his. And you know you're still in his head, whether he wants you there or not.

But Ghost is nothing if not relentless. And he’s going to get his answers. One way or another.

And you?

You're going to make him work for them.

It’s a standoff, a battle not fought with fists or bullets but with patience and will.

He’s waiting for you to break.

You're waiting for him to snap.

The dim light above you flickers, casting shadows that stretch and twist across the cold concrete walls. Somewhere outside this room, soldiers are cleaning up the mess you left behind. Counting bodies. Patching wounds. Cursing your name.

You wonder if any of them are still defending you. If any of them think maybe there’s an explanation.

But Ghost isn’t like them. He doesn’t deal in maybes. He deals in facts. In truths. And right now, the only truth that matters is that you put a bullet in the trust he once had for you.

His fingers twitch at his sides. Small. Almost imperceptible. But you catch it.

He’s angry.

Good.

You tilt your head, pushing against the restraints just enough to test them, to remind him that you're still here. “You gonna hit me, Simon?”

His jaw tightens.

You say his name on purpose, tasting the weight of it. Simon. Not Ghost. Not the soldier. The man.

But the man is gone, buried beneath layers of war and loss and rage.

“You’re not worth the effort,” he mutters.

You chuckle, the sound light despite the situation. “That’s not what you used to think.”

Ghost stiffens.

There it is. The crack.

You lean forward as much as the bindings allow, your voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. “Tell me, do you hate me more because of what I did? Or because you didn’t see it coming?”

Ghost’s breath flares through the mask. His shoulders square, tension winding through every muscle like a wire pulled too tight.

Then, suddenly, he moves.

You barely have time to process before his gloved hand grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. It’s not gentle. But it’s not cruel either. It’s something in between, something laced with frustration, with an anger he doesn’t quite know what to do with.

His thumb brushes against your jaw, just for a second. A ghost of something softer.

And then—

“You have no idea how close you are to finding out exactly how much I hate you,” he murmurs, voice dark.

You swallow. Not fear. Something else.

His eyes burn into yours, and you realize with certainty—

Ghost is not here for vengeance. Not yet.

No, he’s here for the truth.

And he’s going to tear you apart to get it.

Ghost steps back, a shadow falling over you as he moves to the table beside you. The clink of metal as he retrieves something—a pair of pliers, a knife, a set of instruments. Tools for precision, for control, for breaking a person in more ways than one.

You don't flinch.

Don't give him the satisfaction of reacting.

“Still playing tough?” he asks, voice low and dangerous.

You don't answer. There’s nothing left to say.

Simon’s fingers linger over the pliers before he sets them down with a soft clink, his eyes still on you. “I should’ve known better. You were always good at hiding what was underneath.”

The words catch in your throat. A memory—of laughter, of something real between you, of trust that now feels like a cruel joke.

Your lips part. "I never lied to you."

Ghost’s eyes flash at the statement, like the very idea of you suggesting any innocence on your part angers him. "You didn’t need to. You betrayed me without saying a word. Without hesitation."

A beat of silence, and then he steps forward again, crouching so he’s eye level with you. The mask hides everything, but his posture speaks volumes. This isn’t just about information anymore. It’s personal.

"Tell me why," he demands, voice raw, "why the hell you did it."

You meet his gaze—cold, calculating. There’s nothing in your eyes now. Not fear, not guilt. Just silence.

The silence eats at him. You know it does.

And he knows that you know.

Simon’s hand snaps out like lightning, grabbing you by the jaw with an iron grip. Your teeth click together, the pressure of his fingers hard enough to make you see stars.

"I won't ask again," he growls.

You don't blink. Don't give him the satisfaction of even a flicker of weakness.

"Then you’ll never get an answer," you retort, voice tight but defiant.

His grip tightens.

"God, you’re stubborn." He lets out a harsh breath, more exasperated than angry now. His fingers leave your jaw, and he steps back. "Fine. You wanna play it like this? You wanna be a goddamn enigma?"

You don't respond.

For a long moment, he stands there, staring at you, calculating. You can see the storm swirling behind his eyes, and for the first time since the betrayal, you wonders if he’s considering breaking you. For good.

Then, to your surprise, he steps back even further, turning his back to you.

A loud clink echoes in the room as he picks up a chair, spinning it around before sitting down, his broad frame leaning into the backrest, arms crossed over his chest.

"Not gonna make it easy, huh?" he mutters, almost to himself. "Thought you might’ve learned something from your time with us."

You lift an eyebrow, the barest hint of a smirk curling your lips. "I’m not your puppet, Simon. Never was."

He narrows his eyes, glaring over his shoulder. "We’ll see about that."

Another long silence.

Then—

Click.

Your head snaps up at the sound of something sharp. Ghost is holding a knife now, just barely out of your line of sight, running it lightly over the edge of the table. The sound alone is enough to send a shiver through you.

"You’ve never been good at waiting, have you?" He tilts his head, his voice softening just a little. It’s the calm before the storm, and you both know it. "You always had to be in control. I gave you control. I trusted you. And now look where we are."

Simon’s eyes narrow dangerously. He leans forward slowly, placing the knife on the table with deliberate precision.

And for a moment, just a fleeting moment, Simon hesitates. His eyes flicker toward the blade, then back to her.

“Answer me, and I’ll make it quick,” he says, his tone now laced with an edge you haven't heard in years. "Why. Did. You. Do. It?"

You don't answer.

Because the truth is too damn heavy.

And Simon—Ghost—isn’t ready to hear it.

[4urvalidation]

can you make a story where rafe and reader broke up 3 years ago, but she comes back to Outer Banks only now she has a daughter(who looks just like Rafe) and a husband (Whom she doesn't really love) and rafe still loves her

Oh, why you gotta make the wheels in my brain turn like this 😩 Not a huge expert when it comes to writing anything Y/N related, but willing to give it a go.

Didn't expect to connect to this as much as I did, so hopefully if the inspiration still flows once I'm done with A Case of Limerence I might explore this story further.

As for now, please enjoy this little blurb.

SUMMARY: Three years ago, Kook!Princess and Rafe began a secret love affair that lasted for an entire summer, until her parents found out and forbade Rafe from ever seeing their daughter again. Now, twenty-two years old and somewhat sober, he spends his days working a dull office job at his father's company wondering if he'll ever get to relive the golden days of his teenage years.

That's when she shows up - his first love. His only love. With a husband and baby and Rafe's heart is almost on the brink of breaking all over again until he realizes the kid looks exactly like him.

CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of alcohol and drug use; sexual content - nothing too graphic but the implications are strong; Rafe is not a psycho killer, but a drug addicted fratboy;

━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⸰ .° ☆ ° ☆ °. ⸰ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The term Kook Princess has been thrown around a lot in these parts, but no one seemed to be embodying it as perfectly as her.  She was the golden girl; the good girl. With a pair of rich, uptight parents, designer dog and curfew. Never seen at parties, but always invited and if she were to come, she was always quiet, subdued - soft drink in a red solo cup pressed tightly to her lips; her loud best friend never leaving her side. 

Rafe doesn’t know what it was that made him so attracted to her. With her honey blonde hair and soft sun kissed skin, she was light years away from his usual type, but then again, not quite. She was forbidden; out of reach, a conquest if you will and as a man who was never taught the word no, he too saw her as something he simply must get his hands on. 

He spent his days scheming how to get close. They had no mutual friends, she rarely left the house and when she did she was always with her stupid best friend or her parents and yes - Rafe was fearless, but not to the point where he would openly embarrass himself in front of two of the most influential people on the island.  

Days passed and he forgot about her soft smiles and the way those long legs looked in all those frilly short skirts. That is, until fate decided to butt in. 

It was hot - the hottest summer they have had in years and it was his sister’s birthday and he was so sick and tired of her and all her stupid friends but then he saw a glimpse of honey blonde hair and freckled skin and Rafe’s entire world stopped turning. She was smiling: perfect white teeth on an even more perfect face and there were so many girls in the world; so many girls in his backyard in skimpy swimsuits, but at that moment, Rafe only had eyes for her. 

He had no idea she and his sister were friends; he had no idea she even had friends aside from that loud, annoying one and yet, there she was: taking his breath away in a bright red bikini. 

The following events happened in a blur. He had been drinking since 10 am that morning -  perks of having his father and stepmonster away for the weekend - and he’d been laying on his bed, joint in hand when she walked in. 

“Sorry,” Her voice filled his room and only when his gaze met hers was when Rafe realized her eyes were hazel and not brown like he originally thought. “I can’t find the bathroom.” He put the joint between his lips; his limbs limp with relaxation and he wanted to stand up; was desperate to move towards her and feel the warmth emanating from her body, but he was too fucking high for all of it. 

“It’s okay.” She giggled just then and it was the best sound Rafe had heard in years. “I’ll find my way.” 

To say that he was embarrassed was an understatement. He was fucking humiliated and so out of his mind, he could barely think of anything but that. The moment replayed in his head like a broken record of sorts; her soft smile on constant repeat and just as he was about to force himself out of the scenario the door of his bedroom opened again. 

This time she had put on shorts: the tiniest Rafe had ever seen and her bright red bikini was blinding and hot and fuck - she was so hot and he was so gone. He’d barely made any conversation with the girl and he could already imagine their entire life together. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Here,” Sitting on the edge of his bed, she handed him a tall glass of water and watched as he drank. Her eyes were insane; the freckles on her face an array of constellations and she smelled sweet like cupcakes or strawberries and fuck fuck fuck he wanted to eat her. Trace his lips and tongue in the crook of her neck; taste her mouth, taste her skin, taste her …

“Feeling better?” He heard her say, her voice quiet and meek just like she had been all those years he’s been aware of her presence.

“Yeah.” 

Rafe doesn’t remember how they ended up kissing. How the weight of her body moved on his lap; how she let him run his needy hands all over her body and kiss all that exposed skin. His shirt was off and she was practically naked, in his bed - just like all those times he had fantasized about her, except this was so much better. 

His name escaped her lips softly, always in a form of a muffled moan and suddenly all he wanted to do is make her feel so fucking good, she had no other choice but to scream his name. And she did. She was so loud he had to cover her mouth with his hand and feel her lips spread into a grin against the calloused skin of his palm. 

He was bewitched. 

Charmed. 

Fucking obsessed with her and for some reason this perfect, golden girl who could do no wrong felt the same. 

That entire summer she had him off balance; sneaking inside her home; always through her bedroom window and straight into her bed where they made crazy senseless love. She was going away after the summer but Rafe didn’t care. He loved her. Sure, he never made it his mission to let her know this, but actions spoke louder than words and boy did he show her just how much she made him feel. 

He was going to tell her - Rafe constantly made promises to himself but then she would give him those eyes and every word in the English language would suddenly disappear from his brain.

On the night he finally decided to let her know just how fucking in love he was with her, there sat her father. Sternly, with a pin straight back, he told Rafe to leave and never return. To forget her because she had already forgotten him. What they had that summer meant nothing and will remain nothing because Rafe Cameron had no business being around his perfect daughter. 

“I love her.” Rafe said weakly, but it went unregistered. The man didn’t care about that. He could care less about the way his heart burst whenever he was around her; how he was willing to do anything, be anything… All her father wanted was for Rafe to leave his little girl alone.  

She was smart, ambitious -  with a bright future and big dreams and all he had was a bad temper and drug problem. 

It all ended that night. 

She was gone without a trace. So gone to the point where not even that best friend of hers knew where she’d disappeared to. 

Days, weeks, months passed and Rafe tried moving on; dated girls that looked like her and when that didn’t work he started dating girls that looked nothing like her. He drank and smoked and snorted. He traveled the world and caused havoc and went to rehab and relapsed. He made his father proud and then disappointed him again and again and again and before Rafe knew, three years had passed by and he was twenty two and bitter.  

His hair was thinning and he might’ve been a whole year sober, but every now and then he’d be itching for a drink and peruse the liquor aisle wondering which bottle of whiskey was worth enough to ruin his life with. It was this exact thought that had been haunting him one June evening when fate decided to interfere again. 

It was his sister’s twentieth birthday and they were having her celebratory dinner at the country club for some reason. She’d brought her useless excuse of a boyfriend and because that wasn’t awkward enough, his father decided to invite one of their new hires: a software engineer named Marjorie that clearly had the hots for Rafe, but he was far too desperate for a drink to pay any attention to her. 

And then she appeared. 

Her laughter - that rambunctious, delicious sound - was the first thing Rafe heard before actually seeing her. And when he finally did it was like all pieces of his long ago broken heart finally fell into place. Her hair was gold and her legs were long and sure, she might’ve ditched the frilly skirt for a pair of sensible white shorts, but she still looked just as perfect as he remembered. 

His gaze followed her as she sauntered into the room; her parents behind her and a man and a child and there was Rafe’s heart breaking all over again. She hadn’t seen him and it was probably for the best, but then Sarah turned slightly and suddenly, she was all his sister could see. 

Smiling, Sarah had called her entire fucking family over. The scowl on her father’s face was unmistakable and in a matter of seconds there they were: having awkward small talk and introducing significant others and she was married. 

The diamond on her engagement ring was blinding, just like her smile and when she finally looked at him, it was like that very first time in his room when she begged him to kiss her and he couldn’t dare say no. 

“Hello.” She nodded at him like they used to be coworkers, but her gaze lingered - drinking him in like the whiskey he was so desperate to taste again.

“And who is this young lady?” He heard Sarah coo at the small child hiding her face in the crook of her husband’s neck and the word made Rafe sick. 

“This is Phoebe. Phoebe… baby, don’t be shy. Come now, say hi.” The tone of her voice softened and silently he watched her pet her daughter’s head until the kid was ready to face the audience. And when she did, a pair of wide, curious blue eyes were looking straight at him. 

Fuck.

It was like looking in a mirror. 

A tiny, chubby cheeked mirror. 

Even the way their hair was thinning is the same. 

Rafe swallowed.

She was looking at him, those hazel eyes dancing on his face expectedly as if waiting to see whether the realization has hit him yet. All those years ago… she didn’t disappear because she had stopped loving him or because her parents found out… 

She was pregnant. 

He had gotten her pregnant.

He looked at her and then at his daughter…

His daughter. 

He has a fucking daughter. 

A tiny little girl in a baby blue dress and pigtails. 

Their eyes met again and it’s as clear as day - she knows he knows and Rafe watched her answer his silent question with a single, curt nod. 

He is a father.