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heartnearu · 3 days ago

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warm silence | p.sh

park sunghoon x f!reader [ONE SHOT]

synopsis: you brighten sunghoons world the same way the sun brings warmth to a cold day. to him, you’re everything. you’re the hush in his heart, the softness in all his hard edges, the steady in his storm, his anchor, his home. yet somehow, you felt out of reach—like a dream he could never quite hold onto.

genre: angst / romance / SLOW burn

tropes: childhood best friends / first love / boy next door / coming of age / SELF SABOTAGE

DISCLAIMER!! i am no professional. i am simply an insomniac with an idea. my writing may be terrible but this is only for fun. this is FICTION!

WC: 8k

songs: when the sun hits - slow dive | all i need - radiohead | we are the people - empire of the sun | meet me halfway - black eyed peas

NOTE: high school! AU | reader uses she/her pronouns. i currently cannot think of any possible warnings, but if you suggest what i should put after reading it i will happily do so :)

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

the persistent tapping on his window pulls sunghoon from the restless dream that had kept him from getting a good night’s sleep.

with a groan, he turned over and buried himself beneath the blanket, wishing he could somehow melt into the mattress and eventually disintegrate into the air so he could at least be at peace.

who needs him this early anyways?

whoever or whatever it is that’s tapping annoyingly can wait until later when he actually has the power to socialize. he’d rather apologize for ‘not hearing’ their calls or say that he ‘thought it was a bird’ than lose sleep and get up early.

he should be grateful—after all, he was awaken from a bad dream that never seemed to end. but he still clung to the hope of getting a few more hours of sleep, convinced nothing could stop him. sleeping is one of the very few escapes that asked for nothing in return.

the constant tapping went to a sudden halt. with his eyes still closed, sunghoon smiled at the profound silence as he shifted in his bed to get comfortable.

everything from his sheets to his current position felt perfect—he could already tell that it was going to be a good few hour nap by how he was sinking into the mattress.

just as sleep began to take him, a voice suddenly shattered the silence.

“sunghoon! you’re lucky i don’t have anything else to throw at your window, because i promise you i would’ve kept going!”

at the sound of your voice, sunghoon’s eyes snapped open—without skipping a beat, he quickly got out of bed, almost face planting onto the floor in the process due to the blanket tangled around his legs.

by the time he was at his window, he was flushed and out of breath but opened the window without hesitation. across from him was you, leaning against your own window.

you blinked at his sudden presence in front of you and paused as he caught his breath. his gaze settles on you, eyes tracing your features with a quiet intensity, trying to memorize every detail.

an odd feeling blooms in his chest, subtle but persistent. it feels like he misses you, though you’re standing right in front of him, and he can’t quite understand why.

it’s feels as if it’s the first time he has seen you in a while, even though you did homework together just last night.

he pushes the feeling aside, deciding he’ll make sense of it later. just as his lips parted to voice his concerns—you burst into laughter.

the confusion growing on his face only fueled your giggle fit even more. you didn’t notice how his features softened at the scene in front of him.

you put a hand on your chest, trying to catch your breath,“if i would have known that calling for you worked more efficiently nowadays, i would have done so twenty something rocks ago.” you raise your voice slightly so he can hear you,“anyways.. you got less than fifteen minutes to get ready to leave because we’re gonna be late!”

“late?” sunghoon questioned with furrowed brows, “late to where?” he slightly tilted his head as he pondered what you could mean.

he couldn’t recall making plans with you—though he didn’t exactly oppose the idea of going out with you spontaneously.

“well..” you pause and cocked your head as you thought about it for a second, almost mimicking what sunghoon had done unconsciously. “not exactly late but you know, we wouldn’t get the usual view we do when we go around this time.”

you wave your hand trying to dismiss him,“go change, ask questions later” you try shooing him back into his room.

he frowned,“you’re no help. how do you expect me to change when i don’t even know where we’re going?”

you roll your eyes and smile,“you worry too much, just change and meet me outside. don’t forget your keys and your license ‘cause you’re driving today. just wear something you’ll be comfortable in and won’t regret wearing later, okay? see you in a bit hoonie!”

your eyes sparkled in anticipation before you closed your window, leaving no time for sunghoon to question you any longer.

sunghoon sighed and shook his head with a faint smile—what was he going to do with you?

・୨ ✦ ୧・

you hummed with the song playing on the video you watched on your phone as sunghoon started his car.

sunghoon tapped on the screen, trying to connect his phone to bluetooth,“so.. where are we going? ‘cause i can’t go anywhere without knowing a little bit about this place that you want us to go to.”

he turns to you with a lopsided grin, handing you his phone so that you can play music.

“hm.. i guess you’re right. well, i wanted to go to the lake we always used to go to when we were kids.” you replied, unlocking his phone so that you can get to spotify.

“the one our moms took us to every summer?” he asked, raising a brow.

you hummed, still scrolling on his phone looking for songs to put in queue. “yeah. we haven’t gone in a while and i wanted to go with you before we get busy with college after we graduate in a couple days.”

you paused to ask if he wanted any songs in particular, when he shook his head you continued scrolling, “i know we have summer and all but.. i don’t know…everything will feel too real by then. plus this is basically us just doing stuff we used to do before we’re sent off to ‘adult life’ where things are actually somewhat serious.”

sunghoon understood what you meant.

recently, everything has been feeling so stressful yet freeing because you guys will finally be able to leave the hellhole known as high school.

you both have been stacked with work from your teachers who swear that they’re ’preparing you for adult life’ but the both of you know it’s a load of bull, most of it is just filler work because they have nothing else for students to do since it’s the end of the year. they just want to keep students busy and get their pay check but what sucks is that it’s a part of his grade, meaning he had to do it.

with a destination now in mind, sunghoon starts driving.

he glanced at you and snickered. “so, is that why you decided to wake me up with a handful of rocks accompanied with your terrible aim? who would have thought that someone as amazing as you could miss a target as big as my bedroom window.” he says sarcastically.

you gasp at his sarcasm,“don’t be rude,” you reach over to flick his temple but failed miserably due to him being able to somehow grab your wrist before you got close enough to hit him.

you gave up and let out a dramatic huff,“you’re just mad that i was smart enough to throw the ones that were a little too big at the wall so that i don’t break your window the same way you broke mine last time.”

“i was twelve!” he quickly defended,“and that’s not fair, yeji basically set me up for failure that time! she swore it wouldn’t break. plus it was the only thing we had available to throw that would make enough noise to catch your attention”

he heard you stifle a laugh as you remembered the day sunghoon’s little sister gaslighted him into believing that your window was indestructible simply because she was bored and wanted to watch the new spongebob episode but couldn’t because she was grounded.

“whatever, whatever.” you dismiss with a grin,“you’re both at fault, all that trouble to see spongebob through my window just for you guys to get grounded for another week AND not even getting to see said episode.”

sunghoon scrunched his nose in fake annoyance, barely hiding the smile tugging at his lips as you continued laughing.

he glanced at you, eyes soft with something unspoken, as a quiet warmth began to stir in his chest. his gaze shifted back to the road as he shook his head, laughing slightly at the memory.

once the laughter died down, you turned to him with a sigh and a lingering smile.

“yeah, i decided if we’re already going to be doing something we did together when we were younger, why not go all out?” you shrugged with a grin,“this our last time being ‘kids,’ or at least free from responsibilities—might as well make it fun and worth our while, right?”

sunghoon chuckled and nodded,“right.”

・୨ ✦ ୧・

the two of you had been at the lake for hours, talking about everything and nothing all at once. it was filled of laughter and nostalgia.

you took pictures with your digital camera, claiming that memories were meant to be preserved—not just remembered. sunghoon agreed with a quiet smile as you both recorded random moments on his camcorder he kept in his car—just in case memories like these came around.

you had brought along a blanket and a picnic basket packed with a blend of both your favorite dishes, that were long gone by now. he wasn’t sure when you had packed everything, but he didn’t question it.

sunghoon watched you closely as you rambled about a game that recently came out.

a unsolicited storm of unspoken feelings returned and sat heavy in his chest, but he stayed quiet. how could he tell you what was on his mind when it might ruin the peace you shared?

a sigh escaped him, soft and unbidden—born from the ache of everything left unsaid. but the thought of losing you, someone who had come to mean everything, sealed his lips with silence.

he wanted nothing more than to hold you gently—to treat you with the love he knew you deserved. but how could he, when you had no idea how deeply sunghoon felt for you?

you’d been in each other’s lives for as long as either of you could remember, and who’s to say your feelings hadn’t stayed the same?

he only wished he had shown you, back then, that he saw you as more than just a friend. it would’ve made his current predicament easier to deal with. but no amount of wishing could turn back time or rewrite the silence he’d left behind.

now, he could only choose between staying silent and protecting your friendship or voicing his feelings and hope that you feel the same.

the call of his name pulled him out of his thoughts, he blinked at you as you looked at him with knitted brows, confused. “are you okay? you blanked out for a second.”

sunghoon felt his face flush the moment he realized you noticed his silence.

“huh? oh–” he rubbed his neck, flashing a shy smile,“just.. thinking about the next few days.” he swallowed hard, hoping hoping you couldn’t hear the thudding in his chest.

you looked at him quizzically, eyes narrowing slightly before you hummed and turned away in thought.

he exhaled, relief flooding his chest when you didn’t question him further. and yet, a quiet ache remained. the words he’d spoken clung to him, far heavier in meaning than he’d let on.

a few beats of silence passed between the two of you.

it wasn’t uncomfortable—even with the ache in sunghoon’s heart, your presence felt like a warm embrace.

for a fleeting second, it felt like the world and all it’s problems had melted away. there were no words, just a shared stillness that felt like home.

time seemed to pause, and for a while, it was just you and him—nothing more, nothing less.

sunghoon can feel something unspoken had passed between you.

your gaze drifts back to him, soft and searching.

“sunghoon,” you uttered, laced with something he can’t quite place—something that makes his chest tighten.

he hums in response, eyes flicking away from yours, like he’s afraid of what he might find there. terrified of mistaking something so small for something more.

“sometimes,” you begin, voice barely above a whisper—like you’re carrying something fragile that might shatter something if you let them out.

“i think i care about you more than i should.”

his breath hitched as an invisible hand gripped his heart with so much force, he could feel the pain in his chest.

his eyes trailed back to you and absorbed your expression—unguarded and achingly vulnerable.

oh, how he wishes he could confess every thought racing through his mind—wishing he could tell you how much you truly mean to him. how deeply he cares about you.

the words are hidden under his tongue, aching to be set free. he feels the pull on his heart, its desperate to let you in.

when he finally opens his mouth, his voice betrays him.

"maybe we both do.” he paused,“but... you shouldn't say things like that unless you mean them."

・୨ ✦ ୧・

his mind was everywhere but where it needed to be.

he hadn’t slept—not with your words still echoing in his head and the weight of his own response haunting him long after the moment had passed.

he couldn’t focus, he wouldn’t let himself. his mind keeps circling back to yesterday's conversation.

how could he be so stupid? he had you right in front of him but he let you slip from his grasp.

you were so close yet so far.

maybe it didn’t mean anything. maybe nothing had changed.

god, he hoped so.

you laughed it off, changed the subject like it was nothing. he didn’t want you to—but what could he have done? he wasn’t going to force you into a conversation you don’t want to be apart of.

he wanted you to say something, to add on to what you were saying, maybe even explain what you meant, anything—but he just sat there, letting you grow distant.

you didn’t act differently on the drive home.

if anything, it was the same as the ride to the lake. it was your playful teasing and easy laughter paired with his sarcastic remarks and lighthearted banter.

you both parted briefly to shower—the lake air still clung stubbornly to his skin after the drive.

sunghoon thought that you would take that chance to no longer be in his vicinity, but surprisingly, you still came over to watch star wars with him and yeji in honor of may fourth.

you even stayed for dinner and shared laughs with his family; it was nothing new, but the twisting in his gut never left. the weight of what he didn’t say rested on his shoulders like judgment—unshifting and brutal.

you acted like everything was normal.

but that’s what scared him. because he knew you.

he knew how you avoided conflict. he knew how you’d smile through discomfort and pretend everything was fine, just so things wouldn’t get weird.

you wouldn’t tell him if he had hurt you. you wouldn’t call him out for messing up. you’d just carry it alone—and that thought alone made the ache in his heart grow sharper.

you didn’t deserve that.

you don’t deserve someone like him—someone who couldn’t even say what he really wanted without being terrified of what could happen.

you deserve a love without hesitation, and he longs to be the one to give it. he'd give up everything without a second thought if it meant he’d have an eternity with you.

it’s not even about whether you return his feelings anymore. it’s about whether you’d still choose to stay his friend, knowing he wants something more, when you don’t.

if he knew for a fact that you would still be by his side one way or another, he would confess and take the rejection. he really would.

but the thought of you pulling away, drifting so far that the two of you stopped speaking altogether—that would break him.

at least, that’s what he tells himself.

you’ve been part of his life for so long, so woven into every moment that mattered, that he simply cannot imagine a future without you in it. and now, all he could think about was how he could be the reason why you’d want to distance yourself.

he hated the thought that it might’ve been his fault.

you offered him something delicate, something unspoken and real—and he broke it before he even realized what he was holding.

that mistake might’ve cost him the one thing he never wanted to lose: you. and the only person he has to blame is himself.

or maybe… maybe he imagined it all.

what if he took it all out of context? what if he overanalyzed every word, every glance—searching for signs that weren’t even there?

maybe he was reading too far into things, twisting moments into something more than what they really were.

obsessing over gestures that were never meant to mean anything—because deep down, he so desperately wished they had.

though his mind swirled with endless possibilities, what bothered him the most was that he hadn’t seen you all day.

・୨ ✦ ୧・

sunghoon’s leg bounced anxiously under his desk—eyes flickering between the board, the clock, and his phone as if it’s going to make time go by faster.

with an irritated huff, sunghoon slumped back into his chair, arms crossed tightly over his chest—impatient and clearly annoyed by how painfully slow the class was dragging on.

every second felt deliberately stretched, like the universe was playing a cruel joke on him.

he needed to get out of this classroom.

his eyes scanned the room, trying to find something to distract him as he waited for the bell to ring.

his thoughts drifted back to this morning, he found it strange when you didn’t come out to walk with him to school at the time you usually do. still, he waited.

as the minutes ticked by and the first bell crept closer, his confusion only deepened.

what was taking you so long? you hated being late.

his mouth pulled into a faint frown.

were you avoiding him?

sunghoon bit the inside of his cheek, debating whether to knock and ask your mom if you’d left early or just leave.

he wanted to do the former but what if you needed space? he knew you wouldn’t tell him if you did—not because you didn’t care, but because you’d never want to hurt him.

you'd never been good at saying no, it just wasn’t in your nature.

so, he walked to school alone.

jake sat beside him, eyeing sunghoon with concern—to him, sunghoon was acting weird. nothing like his usual demeanor.

sunghoon wasn’t exactly known for being cheerful and all smiles, but even for him, this felt off—and he had no idea why.

jake leaned in slightly. “sunghoon,” he whispered, careful not to draw the teacher’s attention.

sunghoon stayed lost in thought, seemingly unfazed, offering no response.

jake glanced at jay, seated on his other side, who looked just as worried.

“what’s up with him?” jay murmured, nodding toward sunghoon.

jake shrugged and glanced back at sunghoon once again,“i’ve been trying to figure it out all day. he’s just been.. out of it.”

the two exchanged hushed theories, voices low, trying to piece together what could’ve left sunghoon so distant, so unlike himself, so distraught.

the sudden sound of their teacher clearing his throat brought their whispers to an abrupt halt.

they tensed as they recognize the previously unnoticed presence behind them.

they laughed nervously as their teacher shot them a sharp glare. they quickly turned back in their seats and sat up straight.

sunghoon observed the exchange with a quirked brow, only now realizing the teacher had moved from the front to the back of the class.

somehow, he missed it entirely—but there was no time to dwell on it as the bell rang, echoing through the halls, signaling the end of class and the end of the school day.

sunghoon shot to his feet so fast it left jay and jake exchanging bewildered looks before they rushed to catch up to him.

by the time they finally caught up to him, they were at the far end of the school.

jake and jay paused, trying to catch their breath before confronting sunghoon.

sunghoon did a double take when he noticed them.

“what are you guys doing here?” he asked, glancing between them with a questioning look.

“we were trying to—” jake began, panting, “—hold on.”

he doubled over coughing between words, “oh my god, i’m dying.” jake said dramatically.

jay and sunghoon grimaced and patted his back, trying to help him with whatever it is that he’s slightly choking on.

jay turned to sunghoon after giving jake his water bottle and making sure he was okay. “what he was trying to say is… what’s going on with you today? are you okay?”

jake's forehead creased with worry as jay's eyes narrowed slightly, scanning sunghoon for answers.

at the question, sunghoon’s eyes avoided jay’s, landing on the door in front of him, like it held all the answers.

he nodded slowly, shifting uncomfortably on his feet,“yeah.. why wouldn’t i be?” his hands constantly readjusting the strap of his bag.

jake followed sunghoon’s gaze, and the moment his eyes landed on the door, his mouth parted in realization.

he nearly smacked his forehead, kicking himself for not thinking of it sooner. nudging jay to get his attention, he subtly nodded toward the door.

jay turned to look—and only then did it hit him where they had followed sunghoon to.

they stood in front of the student council room—the place the council always hung out when they weren’t in class.

there was only one reason sunghoon would come here, and it’s to find you.

jay and jake exchanged a look, the pieces starting to come together—they finally had an idea of what might’ve been weighing on sunghoon.

the only problem now was figuring out how to get him to open up to them.

right before any of them could do or say anything, the door swung open with frustrated mumbles trailing behind it. their attention snapped back to the door, expecting to find you.

instead, they were met with jungwon—and a look of confusion from the student council president himself.

he stilled, eyes scanning each of their faces trying to recognize them. the four of them stood there for a moment, wrapped in a brief, awkward silence.

the three older boys stood frozen, unsure of what to do or say. it felt like they’d been caught red-handed despite not having done anything wrong.

jake opened his mouth, prepared to break the silence, but jungwon spoke first.

“ah, sunghoon hyung.” jungwon’s stiff posture relaxed slightly as recognition settled in. “sorry—it took me a second to figure out who you guys were.”

he greeted jay and jake as well, giving a quick bow before continuing, “we’ve been stuck in meetings all day because of your graduation coming up so my head is a little scrambled.” jungwon let out a sheepish laugh, clearly embarrassed.

sunghoon stood back, quietly observing as the three of them caught up—jungwon had been swamped lately with end-of-year duties, so it had been a while.

sunghoon chimed in occasionally with a comment or two, but for the most part, he stayed reserved. content to just listen.

he zoned out for a couple minutes, thinking of the other places you could be when jungwon suddenly perked up beside him. sunghoon’s eyes drifted back towards him due to his sudden movement.

“oh! sunghoon hyung, i almost forgot to tell you—” sunghoon hummed in acknowledgment, waiting for him to continue. “noona asked me to let you know she had to leave about thirty minutes ago during her free period. she got a call from home and said she’d explain everything later. she also apologized for not messaging you—said she didn’t have her phone on her, and that she’d explain that too. although, i’m not totally sure what happened. she was kind of rambling and talking really fast while running around trying to grab all her stuff.”

sunghoon smiled softly, knowing that was very on brand for you.

he already felt lighter knowing that you had promised to talk to him later. “thank you for letting me know jungwon-ya.” jungwon only nodded before jake started poking at him.

as jake teased jungwon over something trivial, sunghoon laughed and joined jake’s antics—noticing how relaxed jungwon looked for once.

jay’s shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “yah, give the poor kid a break,” he said, grinning. “he’s barely had time to breathe, and here you guys are messing with him.”

jungwon let out a dramatic groan. “next time, I’m just going to pretend I don’t know you guys and walk right past.” a mischievous glint sparked in his eyes as he added,“or i might just pull the student council president card on you.”

the three of them gasped in mock disbelief.

“you wouldn’t!” jay accused, pointing dramatically.

jungwon smirked, raising his brows. “oh, i would.”

“no way…” jake clutched sunghoon’s shoulders. “is this what betrayal feels like?”

sunghoon fought the urge to laugh, turning away from jungwon with exaggerated flair.

“i—i can’t even look at you right now.” he suddenly collapsed onto jake, dramatically wailing,“oh, what has my precious child become!”

the four of them burst into laughter at the sheer stupidity of their conversation. the air around them feeling light and tender.

jungwon grinned, his dimpled smile shining bright. “oh, what-ever! i’ll do what i must to survive. besides, you senior citizens are graduating this weekend. talk about going out with a scene.” he shook his head, clearly joking.

sunghoon found the conversation around him fading into a blur.

・୨ ✦ ୧・

he wasn’t sure how he got there, but sunghoon was at your doorstep, torn between raising his hand to knock or going back home to wait for you to find him first.

he glared at your front door, teeth tugging at the cracked skin on his lips—anxious, uncertain.

he wasn’t sure what to expect.

were you just going to move on like yesterday never happened? the idea made his brows crease.

he didn’t want you to brush off what you said yesterday—but he had no idea how to bring it up himself.

what if you didn’t mean it the way he thought you did?

had he really let himself believe you meant something more?

had the line between his desires and your intentions blurred so much that he couldn’t tell when you were just being friendly?

his jaw clenched in quiet frustration.

when had your actions become so hard to read that he couldn’t tell where genuine affection ended and casual kindness began?

maybe the line was never blurred—you were just kind, and he was just foolish enough to hope it was something else.

with a heavy sigh, sunghoon’s head dropped into his hands as the weight of it all pressed down on him.

his mind was spinning, thoughts pounding so loud it hurt—each one louder than the last, his skull throbbing.

it shouldn’t be this hard, but it always was.

he stood there, swallowed whole by the never ending spiral he always found himself in.

he scoffed under his breath.

why did he have to be such a coward?

a voice spoke up behind him, startling him. “unless you’ve got secret powers, you might want to try knocking, sunghoon-ah.”

sunghoon stepped back, heat rising to his cheeks as he turned to face your mother.

he dipped his head with a sheepish grin, “ah, sorry, imo.” he laughed nervously, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “i wasn’t sure if anyone was home.”

she glanced at him with amusement.

“i see,” your mother said with a knowing smile, brushing past sunghoon to unlock the door. “there’s no need to stand out here like a stranger, sunghoon-ah.”

once the door was unlocked, she pushed it open and gestured him to come in. “you know you’re always welcome here—so don’t to hesitate to knock. you’re practically family at this point.”

sunghoon smiled faintly, bowing in gratitude before stepping inside.

his gaze swept the room with a quiet kind of recognition—that familiar feeling from yesterday settled over him again.

it was déjà vu, laced with something heavier. a hush of melancholy lingered in the air.

it was that same quiet ache, longing mixed with sorrow—as if he’d slipped into a memory he desperately wanted to relive.

sunghoon refused to acknowledge it, pushing the feeling aside.

instead, he made small talk with your mom—asking how work had been, how your dad was doing and when he’d be back from his work trip.

not even an hour had passed when he heard the soft click of the front door.

everything around him faded into silence the moment he saw you. all he could do was take in your presence.

“eomma! you won’t believe who i saw at the market.” you groaned, placing the grocery bags on the floor and slipping into your house slippers with practiced ease.

you rambled on, only to pause mid-sentence when your eyes finally met sunghoon’s. your features lit up.

“i was wondering when you’d show up.” you said, smiling so wide, it reached your eyes. “what took you so long?”

he hadn’t realized you could shine this brightly—your smile lit up the room, your eyes glittering with something pure.

sunghoon felt it hit him all at once, like light pouring through cracks.

the noise in his head faded, the heaviness in his chest eased, replaced by something warm and light that touched the sore parts of his heart.

you always had that effect on him—your presence settled into him like sunlight seeping through closed curtains.

you made him feel seen, even without him having to speak. and he kept chasing that quiet sense of peace, drawn to the only thing that ever truly grounded him.

you.

you went on,“have you been waiting long?”

sunghoon shook his head and walked over, “i got here around the same time as your mom.” he replied. gently taking the grocery bags from your hands.

your fingertips brushed his, lingering like fire on his skin—a sensation that burned deeper than he’d ever admit.

after a quick glance at the time, you gave a small nod with a faint smile. “so, about thirty minutes ago? that’s not too bad.”

sunghoon set the bags on the counter and began handing you items as you put them away, falling into an easy rhythm beside you.

the two of you slipped into conversation, unaware of the fond smile your mom wore as she watched from across the room.

she excused herself, saying work had worn her out and she needed to wind down for the night.

you both wished her goodnight after confirming she didn’t want anything to eat.

once you finished organizing the kitchen, you dragged sunghoon to the living room.

“seeing that you’re here, i figure jungwon was able to reach you, right?” you question with a knowing grin.

sunghoon let out a soft chuckle as he settled onto your sofa.

“didn’t expect you to forget your phone—you’re usually glued to it. for you, that’s like saying you forgot how to breathe,” he teased, flashing a dimpled grin. “what happened? decided you finally wanted to touch grass?”

you rolled your eyes. “ha, ha. very funny.” you flicked his forehead lightly. “i’m laughing so hard, i think i might pass out.”

he laughed. “you should be grateful, you basically have a comedic genius for a friend.” he tilted his chin smugly,“not many people can say that.”

“oh my gosh, you’re so right!” you replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “how could i not when i have front-row seats to your one-man show, delusions and dimples? truly, i’m blessed.”

he leaned back, still grinning. “i’d ask for a tip, but i already know i’m your favorite act.”

you scoffed. “oh, absolutely. i tune in every week just to remind myself what not to laugh at.”

he shot you a playful look,“just say i’m funny—your pride will survive, i promise.”

“yeah, you’re funny—” you paused, a mischievous glint in your eye,“—looking. ohhh!” you gasped dramatically, yelling as you covered your mouth and pointed at him before bursting into laughter.

he threw his head back with an exaggerated groan. “you’re unbelievable.” he bit back a smile, shaking his head in mock defeat.

once your laughter faded, you finally took the chance to explain yourself.

“anyways, like i was saying before you decided to be funny,” you said, shooting him a playful glare. “i forgot the council had meetings all day today. i was rushing to get ready and thought i put my phone in my pocket, when i didn’t. i didn’t even realize until i got to my first meeting at seven. so i couldn’t text you not to wait on me since i was already stuck at school with the rest of the council.”

sunghoon nodded along, eyes focused on you as you spoke.

“then, when we were done with the meetings,” you continued, “my dad called the school trying to get a hold of me since i wasn’t answering my phone—he wanted me to pick up the gift he got for my mom for mother’s day this weekend. i tried seeing if i could go after school ended so you could come with me after your class, but he said the store wouldn’t hold it if someone else wanted it. so i left in a rush again and asked jungwon to do me the favor of letting you know.”

you pursed your lips, trying to think if you’d missed anything.

“and once i got home, i was waiting for you—but then my mom called and asked if i could grab a few things from the store. and now…” you gestured loosely around you, shrugging. “here we are.”

he blinked slowly. “wow. you really know how to keep a guy on his toes.” he tilted his head, voice light. “next time, just send a carrier pigeon.”

you arched a brow, fighting back a smile.

“and spoil you with instant updates? i’d hate to ruin the suspense.” then, with a dramatic hair flip, you added, “you know i’ve got a mysterious and nonchalant persona to maintain.”

sunghoon scoffed, “yeah, right! you’re like, the least nonchalant person i know.” he threw a pillow towards you, chuckling lightly. “you’d trip over your own ‘mysterious aura’ five minutes in.”

you waved a hand dramatically. “well, being unforgettable is kind of my thing. i keep things interesting.” then, with a pointed stare, you added, “you clearly don’t understand the art of subtle chaos.”

sunghoon hummed, then gave you a small smile, his eyes softer now.

“you really didn’t have to explain all that.” he nudged your knee with his. “but i’m glad you did.”

you gave him a small smile in return.

“i just didn’t want you to think i was avoiding you or anything.” your voice dropped a little. “i would’ve told you if i could.”

“i know you would’ve,” he gave a small shrug. “i just didn’t expect an explanation. i mean… it’s just me.”

you looked at him, expression gentle.

“you don’t have to be ‘someone special’ for me to care. you just… matter to me.” he felt your eyes on him—careful, almost hesitant, like you were trying to read him. “i explained myself because i wanted to, not because i had to.”

his heart pounded so hard it echoed in his ears, and for a moment, he wondered if you could feel it too.

・୨ ✦ ୧・

confetti surrounded everyone after the principal congratulated the graduating class for the final time.

cheers in the stadium echoed, the moment felt euphoric.

students tossed their hats into the air, laughter and tears being mixed in the breeze.

happiness lingered—the kind that comes with endings, beginnings, and everything in between.

sunghoon turned to you with a wide smile, met instantly by yours. your eyes shined beneath the confetti filled sky.

he swept you into his arms, spinning you in a whirl of celebration and color, your laughter rising above the chaos in a way that made everything else fade.

his heart felt light, full of pride and something softer, as he thought about how far you both had come.

after the ceremony and dozens of photos, both your families came together for a celebratory dinner—laughter, stories, and congratulations shared over clinking glasses and full plates.

sunghoon watched as his family effortlessly blended with yours, the familiarity between them clear in every laugh and shared memory.

moments like this had always stretched into hours—it was just how things were. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

his eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, sitting beside his sister.

the sight made him smile—he cared deeply for you both, and watching you get along always stirred something warm in his chest.

his head tilted slightly when he caught yeji’s mischievous expression, paired with your confused one as you tried to follow whatever she was saying.

it wasn’t until yeji caught his eye and shot him a wink paired with a smirk that his heart sank.

what was she telling you?

he shifted in place, debating whether to walk over or let it play out. but the way your brows furrowed had him already taking a step in your direction—just in case.

once he was close enough, sunghoon caught yeji saying,“he once cried over a dog in a movie and blamed it on ‘allergies.’ don’t let the cool act fool you.”

he let out a quiet groan from behind her. “will you ever let that go? seriously, it’s like your life mission is to embarrass me in front of people who aren’t family.”

he had no idea what the conversation was about before that, but he could only hope yeji had stuck to harmless stories and nothing more dangerous.

you laughed before teasing,“ i thought he was nonchalant.” you glanced at him with a grin. “guess the act’s been cracked.”

“nonchalant is literally my brand.” he side-eyed yeji. “you just love ruining the mystery, don’t you?”

yeji rolled her eyes. “oh please. unnie’s been in your life longer than i have—she already knows you’re not nearly as mysterious or nonchalant as you think you are.”

sunghoon frowned,“with all this betrayal, it’s obvious who the favorite park is—and which graduate you’re rooting for, yeji.”

you nudged his arm. “don’t worry, you’re still my favorite… most of the time.”

yeji crossed her arms, smugly. “don’t be mad because she likes me more, oppa. i’m just the better choice.”

he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “you two are unreal.”

the three of you kept talking, laughter fading into softer conversations as the night wore on.

slowly, the house settled into silence as people slipped out the door with quiet goodbyes and others deciding to call it a night.

yeji followed soon after, claiming she was tired before bidding the two of you goodnight and retreating to her room.

sunghoon glanced to his side when he felt the warmth next to him vanish—your absence noticeable the moment you stepped away.

he stayed quiet, simply watching as you walked toward the front door, stopping before you reached it.

you turned back to him with a grin. “you coming, or not?”

his smile softened. “wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

he stood and made his way over to you, grabbing his jacket and keys along the way.

with a small gesture, he nodded ahead, letting you guide him through the quiet night—because somehow, being with you always felt like the right direction.

・୨ ✦ ୧・

sunghoon’s fingers tapped along the steering wheel, matching the rhythm of the song blaring through his car speakers.

he drove toward a familiar spot—the one the two of you always seemed to end up at when it felt like it was just you and him against the world.

you sat beside him, singing along without a care, creating your own little performance as he drove.

a faint smile lingered on his lips, your presence grounded him, yet stirred the familiar ache in his chest.

being beside you felt like holding onto something precious with both hands—afraid it might slip away, even though it was right there.

you slip so seamlessly into the cracks of his world, filling spaces he didn’t even know were empty.

you’ve become the quiet force holding him together, the part of him that made the rest feel less scattered.

he glanced back at you, his gaze tracing your features like they were something he could never get tired of looking at.

his eyes shifted back to the road.

in a world where everything kept changing, you were the one thing he always wanted to stay.

the moment sunghoon pulled in, you were already out of the car—like the place had been calling your name.

sunghoon watched you jump out with a shake of his head and a grin.

“you know, normal people wait for the car to stop first,” he called after you, though his tone was all fondness.

he lingered for a second, eyes trailing after you as you ran ahead.

there was something about the way you lit up in certain places, like this one, that made following you feel like the easiest choice in the world.

he made his way to you, breathing in the crisp mountain air as the city shimmered below.

you spun toward him with a glowing smile, eyes glistening like the city lights dancing behind you.

“you always take your time, huh?” you teased, hand slipping around his wrist as you led him to the bench—your shared place to watch the world glow from a distance.

he smirked as he took a seat beside you. “maybe. or maybe I just like seeing if you’ll wait for me.”

you laughed softly, as the lights below flickered like stars. “well, you make it really hard not to.”

while you admired the city below, sunghoon’s gaze never left you, quietly memorizing the moment he already feared of losing.

you both sat in silence, your presence a quiet comfort against the cool summer night.

it’s not like he didn’t want to say anything, he simply didn’t trust his voice. you were just inches away—yet somehow, you still felt out of reach.

he wondered if you knew.

if you could feel how his heart always settled in your presence, how you turned the weight he carried into something lighter.

if you noticed how silence never felt heavy when it was shared with you.

he didn’t need the city lights or the view. he just needed this—whatever this was. whatever you were.

he desperately wanted to reach towards you and tell you everything that he was so afraid of saying.

he ached to tell you, to unravel every truth he’d buried.

he longed to close the distance, to finally speak of the weight in his chest, but the fear that opening his heart would drive you away still lingered—the fear that honesty might cost him the only thing that ever made him feel whole.

but he could feel the confession resting on the tip of his tongue—ready, waiting, willing to let you into his heart.

and though those quiet fears still lingered, their grip was loosening, slowly releasing him from the weight they carried. because right now, in this moment,

it was just you and him.

“this view always has been beautiful.” you murmured, glancing over. but when you turned, he was already looking at you—like the view didn’t matter at all.

“it is beautiful,” he whispered, eyes still on you.

your expression softened into something tender before you turned your gaze back to the city below.

the silence stretched between you as his gaze followed the gentle curve of your profile, admiring how the lights kissed your skin.

he called your name under his breath, barely audible—like part of him hoped you wouldn’t hear it, and the other part needed you to.

a curious hum escaped you as you turned to meet his eyes.

“I…” sunghoon sighed, pressing his lips together.

he looked away for a moment, searching for the right words, before turning back to you.

your gaze hadn’t wavered—still fixed on him, calm and patient, as if you were giving him all the time he needed.

your expression remained soft, touched with quiet curiosity, silently urging him on.

just as his mouth parted, ready to tell you everything—the words stalled on his tongue, trembling at the edge of something real.

for a heartbeat, everything stood still.

but then, almost subtly, the moment began to slip.

the lights dimmed, the cold crept in, and your face, that so clear just seconds ago, blurred around the edges.

he reached for you, hands trembling—desperate to hold onto you as you disappeared into the dark.

you were slipping through his fingers like something that was never meant to stay.

the memory of you blurred, fading into a silence that felt heavier than anything he’d ever known. he felt like he was drowning as the unfamiliar darkness swallowed him whole.

he had been so close. so unbearably close, with his heart in his throat, ready to pour it all out—ready to tell you how much he cared, how deeply and hopelessly he loved you, like his heart had been shaped only to hold yours, and no one else’s.

how loving you had become the only thing that made sense, the only thing that felt like it was written into his bones, something he was meant to do.

something that just came naturally.

how you were the quiet ache behind everything he touched, how his heart had been quietly, endlessly breaking with a love he never quite knew how to give—but had always, always wanted to give to you.

・୨ ✦ ୧・

sunghoon shot up from his bed, breath shaky and uneven.

it took him a moment to remember where he was, to realize you weren’t there.

the silence in the room felt colder than it should’ve, your name still clinging to the back of his throat.

sunghoon jumped at the sudden voice that pulled him out of his daze,“you okay, sunghoon?”

his gaze landed on the two figures standing across the room, having just stepped through the door.

jay and jake stood still, concern written all over their faces—whatever they had been talking about before was clearly left behind the moment they saw him.

it wasn’t until then that he truly registered where he was. not with you. not under the city lights. but here, in his college dorm.

he blinked, trying to slow his breathing, but the weight in his chest hadn’t left. it sat there—heavy, hollow.

sunghoon gave a small nod, though it was far from convincing. “yeah,” he muttered, barely above a whisper. “just… a dream.”

jake looked like he wanted to say something else, but didn’t. instead, he shared a glance with jay—one that said enough.

jay’s frown deepened, concern etched across his face, but neither of them pushed.

the room fell into a quiet tension, the kind that only came when something important went unspoken.

sunghoon didn’t meet their eyes. he looked down at his hands, and they were still trembling slightly.

he had been so close.

the dream still clung to him like a second skin, impossible to shake. it settled in his chest, quiet but suffocating.

all he could do was dwell on what could’ve happened—what he should’ve said when he had the chance.

his eyes drifted to the photos pinned to his wall, pictures of you and him frozen in time, smiling like nothing would ever change. but he knew better.

he was just the friend you grew up with—the one you’d never see that way.

he’ll always yours in silence, never in name.

⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ MIV— hope you enjoyed! i also apologize if some of the wording does not make sense, i did go over it but in a rush so it's not perfect. i spent days on this because i kept getting side tracked. the amount of times i paused bc i was crashing out is crazy. but i can’t really complain bc im the one that’s writing it so i could quite literally change whatever i want LMAOOO. now that i finished this, i actually have to do my homework. i do not think i will be posting a story or update until maybe the end of next week because of my finals. so, i apologize in advance but college is just kicking my butt rn 😢

please DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate ANY of my works in any way.

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inkedinshadows · 3 days ago

Text

The Prince and the Pauper

Pairing: Eris x f!reader

Summary: The Heir of the Autumn Court should court a Lady, or at least a High Fae. He's not supposed to mingle with lesser faeries and low-borns. Right?

Warnings: none

Word count: 2.9k

Main Masterlist | Week Masterlist | Eris Masterlist | AO3

@sjmxreaderweek

The hallways of the Forest House had finally grown quiet after music flooded them during the ball. Held to celebrate the Heir’s birthday, it lasted hours, dragging on from the early afternoon until dinner.

You had been so jealous of the guests. They got to dance and enjoy a rich meal, wear fine gowns and expensive makeup, looking as if they had stepped out of a child's storybook.

Well, you assumed that for people with so much money, even fictional stories could turn into reality if they were just willing to pay for it.

But you—you had to bring the heavy trays of food from the kitchen up to the banquet hall, using the hidden passages for the servants. Cauldron forbid someone saw you.

The delicious smell of the food made your mouth water as you carried it upstairs. That was all you were allowed to do, really—breathe it in and wish you could at least take a bite. So much of it would be wasted anyway, but the High Lord would rather throw away the leftovers than give them to commoners.

With a sigh, you stopped in front of the doors to the Heir's chambers and knocked twice, the sound breaking the silence of the hallway.

“Come in.”

His voice was sharp and clear even from behind the wooden door. Authority dripped from those two simple words.

You turned the knob and pushed the door open, closing it behind you after you walked in, your eyes scanning the room in search of the Heir.

Your breath caught when you saw him.

Eris Vanserra had always been beautiful, but tonight the word wasn't enough to describe him.

He was clad in a long burgundy tunic embroidered with golden threads, his long hair a cascade of fire down his shoulders. The dark brown pants completed the outfit, making him look every bit the regal Heir of the Autumn Court.

“You called for me, Your Highness?” you finally asked.

Eris let out a low chuckle and stalked toward you. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that?”

“You look like a prince,” you countered. “It's only right I address you as one.”

He shook his head, but you didn't miss the small smile on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I missed you tonight,” he murmured. “I wish you could have been there.”

Warmth spread through your chest, but you just lifted a brow. “I was there, you know,” you pointed out, looping your arms around his neck. “I kept sneaking in to bring fresh food for you fancy people.”

Eris's lips quirked up at the corner. He'd once told you it was one of the things that had made him fall in love with you—more than just your witty humor, it was how you'd never treated him as the Heir everybody had to fear and respect, but as a normal person. As if he were no different from you. Of course, you both knew it was just an illusion.

If there really hadn't been any difference between you and him, he wouldn't have been forced to keep his love for you a secret from everyone. Especially his father.

“You know that's not what I meant,” Eris said. His hands roamed over your back, as if having you close wasn't enough for him. “I wish you could have been by my side.”

You left a trail of kisses along his jaw. “Well, I'm here now.” Your lips brushed his. “Let's make the most of this time.”

Eris claimed your mouth in the kiss you didn't give him, but he soon pulled back.

“Later,” he murmured. He let you go and took a step back, pointing to the table set against the wall. “I brought you something.”

Your gaze followed to where he was pointing. A tray was set there, a dome lid hiding its contents.

Eris took your hand and gently guided you to the table. “My lady,” he offered, pulling out the chair for you.

You lifted a brow but sat with a smile. “I'm not your lady.”

A flicker of sadness passed through his eyes. “No,” he conceded. “But I wish you could be.”

You squeezed his hand, ready to tell him that just because you joked about it, it didn’t mean you didn’t wish the same.

But Eris smiled again. “Let me treat you as one while I can.”

He removed the lid from the tray, revealing small portions of at least five different dishes and a glass of sparkling red wine.

Your eyes widened, and your nose filled with the same enticing smells as just a few hours ago. Your mouth watered, and your heart swelled.

“I didn't know what you'd like,” Eris said. “So I took a few different things, just to be sure.”

Tugging on his hand, you pulled him down until he was at eye level with you.

“Thank you, Eris,” you murmured. Any hint of playfulness had disappeared, and only gratitude now laced your words. “This means a lot to me.”

You kissed him with all the passion you could, trying to convey with one simple kiss the depth of your love. But just like words weren't enough, neither were your touches or kisses—and maybe they never would be.

But at least you were trying.

“I love you,” you added when you leaned back.

“I love you too,” he replied with a smile. He sat next to you, then gestured to the tray. “But you'd better eat now, my darling. That heating spell won't last forever.”

You didn't need to be told twice.

Without wasting any more time, you picked up the fork and dove in.

Eris had summoned you to his chambers shortly after the celebration was over, so you'd come here immediately without eating first and you were hungry enough to finish it all in just a few minutes.

But you forced yourself to eat slowly. It wasn't every day that you got to eat such food—normally, servants would have bland, simple meals—and you intended to enjoy every second of this rare occasion.

Under Eris’ gaze, you took the first bite.

A low moan slipped past your lips as flavor exploded on your tongue.

Eris chuckled. “I'm usually the one getting that sound out of you,” he quipped. “Should I be jealous?”

“Yes,” you answered immediately, already taking another mouthful. “This is delicious. The best thing I've ever had.”

Not that the bar was high, anyway.

He had been careful in his selection of dishes. There was smoked beef and roasted pork, grilled fish and buttery buns, plus different types of vegetables. Each bite tasted better than the last one, and the wine… gods, the wine was sweet and fruity, cleansing your mouth with every sip. So different from the watered-down grape juice you sometimes drank in the kitchens.

Eris watched in silence as you savored your meal. Amusement lined his sharp features, but you were too busy eating to ask him what he found so entertaining.

Probably your enthusiasm��or the little noises you let out with every new flavor.

Once you were done and the dishes looked like they had been thoroughly cleaned, you set the knife and fork down and leaned back against the chair.

You didn’t know how you could go back to eating normal food after such a fancy meal, but you definitely knew you would never forget it.

Your eyes settled on Eris, who was still looking at you.

“Thank you,” you said with a smile. “It feels like Winter Solstice, but months in advance.”

Eris grinned. “Then you’ll be happy to know your presents are not done yet.”

He rose from his seat and extended a hand. You accepted it, letting him help you to your feet.

“There’s more?” you asked, scanning the room as if expecting to see a wrapped box somewhere.

“That depends on you, actually.”

Frowning, you turned back to him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Eris let go of your hand and walked up to the empty fireplace. He picked up a small, shiny sphere from the mantel.

“Darling,” he said slowly, glancing from the sphere to you, “do you know how to dance?”

You grew more curious and confused with each passing second, but you still shook your head. “No,” you answered. “No one ever taught me.”

“Well, that’s a real pity.”

As you approached him, Eris quickly tapped the smooth surface of the sphere twice. The light within seemed to shift, and then slow music began to play.

One of the sweet melodies you’d heard during his birthday celebration now filled the room, echoing crystal clear against the walls—without any of the crowd noise that had previously ruined it.

You gasped softly when you realized exactly what the sphere was.

“A Symphonia,” you murmured in awe.

You had heard about them, but you had never seen one before. It was a luxury you could never afford. The only music you could listen to was the kind played during balls or parties— or, if you were lucky, by some wandering minstrel down in the village on your day off. Sometimes, you could even catch echoes of the Lady playing the piano or the transverse flute in her rooms—though it happened less and less frequently ever since Lucien had left the Court.

Eris positioned the device back onto the black marble mantel, a crescendo of strings now flowing from it.

“I’ve had to dance with many people today,” he said when he turned to face you again. “But not with the only person I wanted to.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he offered you his hand.

“Can I have the honor of this dance, my lady?” he asked. He even bowed slightly, his fiery hair spilling over his shoulders.

“I already told you I don’t know how to dance,” you replied, yet you took his hand and let him pull you close.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him. His scent of twinkling embers and nutmeg flooded your senses, and you rested your head against his chest, breathing it in and letting it soothe you.

“It doesn’t matter,” he reassured you, placing a kiss on your hair. “We can enjoy it anyway.”

And so, you did.

Instead of the waltzing dance the music probably called for, you just swayed softly to the rhythm, holding each other and enjoying the moment in silence.

You were aware of how it must have looked like from the outside. Eris Vanserra, the Heir to the Autumn Court, dressed in his fancy, expensive clothes, dancing with a servant wearing only a simple tunic. It was laughable, really.

If the High Lord found out, you knew your punishment wouldn’t be limited to being sent away from the Forest House and losing your job.

But you refused to think about it. Especially not now.

Right now, you were here with Eris. And he was just that.

Not the Heir to his father’s title.

Not the General of the armies.

Just Eris.

The same Eris who had once seen you tending to his mother and had taken an interest in you. The same Eris who had never treated you as an inferior but as his equal, who had gone to lengths to prove to you that he wasn’t just looking for a quick fling with a girl he could forget an hour later before you would consider accepting his attention.

Dancing with him now, just you and him and no one else, with your belly full with exquisite food, was the closest you would get to feeling like you belonged to the high class.

But when the song ended, the spell broke, and the illusion that you could be anything more than what you were dissolved like the last notes of the melody. And though another one began playing shortly after, those few seconds of silence in between weighed heavily on you.

You were exhausted after being up since dawn to help prepare for the ball. Your feet hurt from climbing up and down the stairs while carrying heavy trays. And—as you were finding out just now—eating more than what you were used to hadn’t helped. You felt stuffed.

Reluctantly, you stepped back from Eris’ embrace.

“It’s late,” you sighed. “I should probably go.”

Eris looked disappointed. “Why? You could stay.”

You tilted your head to the side. “You know why. Someone might notice it if I don’t return to my room.”

He shook his head. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, as if weighing his words. Then he reached out and tapped the Symphonia again, and the music faded into silence.

He turned back to you, his expression almost pleading.

“Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Just tonight, my love.”

The Cauldron knew how much you wanted to say yes. Even after months, you had never spent the whole night with him. It was too dangerous. One of the other servants might grow suspicious. It hadn’t happened yet, and the few times somebody had asked questions, you’d been quick to come up with a believable lie. But it didn’t mean you should take too many risks.

“It’s my birthday,” Eris added with a smirk. “You can’t say no to me on my birthday.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “That’s a good point. But still, I don’t think—”

“No one will notice,” he insisted. “They never have.”

That was also true. And every night after a big event, you and the other members of the household staff usually collapsed into your cots and slept soundly till the next morning. So maybe, just this once, it was the perfect occasion to stay with him…

“Eris, I’m very tired,” you argued one last time—mostly so you could tell yourself you had tried everything to change his mind.

“That’s alright, I have a bed,” he replied instantly. His smirk widened, and before you could protest, he picked you up.

You laughed, arms looping around his neck as he carried you to his bedroom.

“Alright, you win,” you conceded. “But if someone scolds me tomorrow morning, I’ll make sure to tell them it’s your fault.”

“Deal.”

He pushed the door open with his foot, then set you down on the large bed in the center of the room.

A bed that was apparently already occupied.

You raised an eyebrow. “You let her sleep on your bed?”

Eris shrugged. “She cries if I leave her with the others.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at him, then reached out to scratch the hound behind her ears.

Noora lifted her head to look at you. She sniffed your hand for a few seconds and—probably recognizing you—licked it once. Then she yawned and tucked her snout back between her paws.

“You spoil her,” you chuckled. “And then you say you don’t have favorites.”

He laughed with you. “Don’t tell the others. They don’t know it’s a lie.”

You shook your head, but your attention soon shifted from the sleeping dog.

Eris started undressing, deft fingers making quick work of the buttons on his tunic. A small part of you was sad to see him discard such a handsome outfit, but it wasn’t as if you could complain about his physique.

Lean and tall, yet not lacking muscle. Especially that wonderful V-line disappearing just below the hem of his underwear—a line that made you want to pull the fabric off him in seconds.

“I thought you said you were tired.”

His voice cut through your thoughts, amusement lacing his tone.

“Are you suddenly awake?” he teased.

“Oh, I could definitely give up sleep for that,” you replied, pointing directly at that inviting line of muscle. “But alas, you let your dog sleep here.”

Eris arched a brow. “I could make her leave. It’s just one night.”

“No, it’s fine.” You sighed, then stood to take off your tunic. “Jokes aside, I really am tired.”

He pulled back the covers and slipped into bed, patting the mattress beside him. “Then come here.”

Wearing only your undergarments, you climbed into bed next to him. There was enough space for you, him, and Noora—and at least three more of Eris’ hounds. But you snuggled close to him, and he wrapped you in his arms, pulling you back against him until you were pressed against his chest.

“You can sleep as much as you need,” he murmured. His breath was warm against your neck. “I’ll make sure you don’t get into trouble tomorrow.”

Even if he couldn’t see it, you smiled. Your hand found his and you intertwined your fingers, lifting it to your mouth. You brushed your lips against the back of his hand.

“I love you,” you whispered, eyes already drifting closed.

He kissed your shoulder. “I love you too, darling.”

It was the first—and probably the last—time you got to sleep in his arms, to wake up in the morning and have him next to you, still holding you close. And maybe you should take advantage of it and try to stay awake a little bit longer just to savor it for a few more moments.

But the peace and safety you felt in his arms were too strong to fight against, and you were soon drifting off to sleep.

And for just that one night, you could be two normal people who loved each other, regardless of status or titles.

*lovely divider by @slytherin-pen

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd @lreadsstuff @littlest-w01f

#sjmxreaderweek #sjmxreaderweek2025 #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fluff #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #eris x reader #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #a court of thorns and roses #sjm #sarah j maas #one shot #fluff #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction

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vanilleandclove · 1 day ago

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on hold; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader

when push comes to shove, sometimes there’s cracks in your relationship that can only be mended with time and patience.

warnings: pregnancy & pregnancy loss, heated arguments, emotional numbness, postpartum depression, overexertion via work, drug mention, parental disownment, jack being a widow is finally mentioned! word count: 3.2k notes: this was a pretty heavy chapter to write. pennsylvania is a middle-third state, meaning reproductive rights for women are protected but with limitations- i’m from california and it’s a top-third state, so i tried my best to represent that- there’s a reason abbot lowballed the measurements. miscarriages are a hard experience for any woman to go through especially one that could have severely damaged a woman’s health which has happened to women in the states. i urge you to stand for women's rights as there is an infringement on them worldwide. feliz dia de las madres :)

Jack knew before you did, he knew your body, knew the time of the month when you’d have your period without fail. It was second nature to him.

It was the middle of February when you found out you were pregnant, Jack liked to brag that he knew a week before just from your off-putting cravings and the fact that you wanted to stay in for Valentine’s Day. He still acted surprised the day you told him, the bloodwork, the pregnancy test Heather gave you, the three ClearBlues, all indicative of you being pregnant. That night he told you he already knew, but figured it would be offensive to ask you to take a pregnancy test out of the blue.

By March, you were aching to tell someone other than your confined circle. Dana knew, Heather knew therefore, Robby knew, and Bridget knew. You resisted telling your parents, they were on your case when it came to your late twenties, believing it was your “prime”, Jack did not know how to phrase it to his mom, so you both just settled on waiting. You weren’t showing, but the middle of the night heartburns had you waking up almost choking and freaking the fuck out of Jack.

You peed more often, craved salt with sweetness, your body was retaining more water than usual and it made your skin feel more elastic. You opted for night shift only as the morning sickness was consistent, bought a better pair of sneakers for comfort. You were a Doctor yet pregnancy on you was uncharted territory.

The one day you chose day shift, the middle of March, you retrospectively wish you hadn't. It was a hot day in Pittsburgh, 99 degrees and only rising every few hours.

You had two patients come in with “eye splitting”, “brain exploding” headaches, both frat boys. They were high off laced weed, luckily nothing too dangerous, they just needed hydration and observation.

By 3 pm you had a surgical case, a 20 year old female in hemorrhagic shock from a pelvic fracture during her diving class, in need of an angioembolization. You swore you could almost curse Gloria for not hiring more interventional radiologists, therefore you had to perform it. An hour and a half goes by and you’re sending her to post-op and yourself to the maternity ward.

The pain in your back was if someone pulled your arms back and kicked your spine in, you were feverish and sweaty all over, your heart was thumping out of your chest.

“I just need an ultrasound Jenna” you pressed on as she kept on telling you that you were okay, that the last check up two weeks ago was fine, your fetus was healthy and growing. She saw the look on your face, one she’s seen one too many times. She scurrying you into an imaging room.

“The gel’s going to be cold” she murmured, putting her glasses on as you laid down on the bed. The room went mute as she examined, her expression being grave and nervous. “Y/n, we need to admit you, now” she said, putting the transducer away and removing her gloves immediately.

“Why?” you used your elbows to anchor yourself up. You saw the millions of thoughts race through her head as she got new gloves and a spare I.V. drip, immediately whipping out her phone to text, “I miscarried?” your voice broke, realizing her urgency.

“You’re septic, your body is actively miscarrying, do you want me to call Ja-“.

Throughout your career you’ve had to call more family members than you can count about mandatory evacuation of the fetus, emergency hysterectomy, pelvic fractures, the works. You gave those calls only to be met with judgmental, distraught, sometimes awkward, other times incompetent, partners on the other line. Jack was none of those but the common denominator was, they would rather their partner tell them than the woman who just operated on their partner. Jack had to hear it from you. Had to know you were conscious and not under the scalpel you basically lived with.

“No- No, can you bring Heather please?” you cleared your throat, trying to process everything.

Jenna brought a wheelchair out to wheel you into a room, grabbing a hold of your arm and using the blood pressure cuff to find a vein for your I.V. “We can do this one of two ways, D&C or antibiotics” she told you, “For your sake I’d do a D&C, ultimately it’s up to you, it is a bit painful afterward but with a guaranteed outcome- we’ll put you under. Antibiotics we’d have to keep you-“.

“D&C” you responded, “Please”.

“Okay, I’ll alert Collins, she’ll come afterwards, let’s get you prepped love” she told you.

You don’t remember anything afterwards, you do remember waking up in post-op, groggy from the anesthesia. Heather and Dana at your bedside. It hurt all over, mentally speaking, your limbs felt too heavy and you felt trapped.

“We’re going to keep her for another hour then could either of you take her home?” you heard a voice speak, another muffled voice saying ‘yes’.

“What time is it?” you croaked from lack of the intubation tube.

“It’s 4:30 hon, they’re going to keep you until 5 and then Heather is going to take you home” Dana spoke up, hands patting your head to soothe you. “None of the staff knows you’re here, I forbade Robby from letting Jack know until you’re ready”.

You nodded, throat bobbing from the overwhelming sense of pain and frustration. Your teeth and jaw remained clenched, you were angry, hurt, confused, most importantly, you were grieving. A sob broke out of you, the croaks that left your throat haunted both Dana and Heather.

It was a long hour, an even longer car ride to your home. You had no idea what to tell Jack or how you even got to that point. When Heather’s car pulled in instead of yours and she helped you out of the car, confusion was the only thing that crowded his mind. He took over for Heather, saying thank you before she gave your forehead a kiss and bid you both a goodbye. Leading you into the house, seeing the pained expression on your face, he didn’t know if he should pry or give you space. You took a seat on the barstools at your island, eyes devoid of emotion, Jack stood at the counter, looking at you, studying you.

“They-“ you tried to speak up, Jack’s ears perking, “Jenna had to perform a D&C on me today” you broke the news, “I was miscarrying and about to go into septic shock when Jenna gave me the ultrasound after I had a woman needing an angioembolization” you whispered, biting your bottom lip so hard you could taste the blood. You didn’t cry, you just told him. There was not a sheer worse pain than the cramps that overtook your body, but you could see it on Jack’s face. His normal, playful, stoicism was gone and he looked just as numb as you.

It broke your heart. You told him like you always do when he asks how it was at work.

He breathed deeply before speaking, walking towards you in order to place a kiss on your forehead, “They got everything?”.

You nodded, “I just- I need some time” your voice cracked the tiniest bit. You shrugged him off before making your painful way to the en-suite in your bedroom.

It hurt to pee, to stand, you gripped onto the support bar for dear life, blood trailed down your legs and pain raked through your entire body. Jack could hear your sobs from the living room. It hurt to breathe.

Jack laid out your clothes, your heating pad, and was already making you soup. You stared at the bed for minutes which felt like hours. Your back would spasm with pain every few minutes. You dressed, got into the bed and wrapped yourself in the blankets.

Jack walked in with the soup in hand, blowing on it so it wouldn’t burn your tongue. You remained asleep, in pain but asleep. He took his spot next to you, wrapping his arms securely around yours, letting your nervous system regulate. He let you sob into his chest, told you to drink water and eat so you can heal.

You couldn’t. He wasn’t going to force you. Whimpers left your body as it ran feverish, Jack immediately put a cold compress on the nape of your neck. He didn’t know the words to say to remedy you. But he sure made up for it action wise.

The days following you let him take care of you, Gloria had called and gave you all the time you’d want off, it counted as bereavement pay, the amount of times you and Jack worked overtime, you had enough days for a near two months. Heather came over to hang out with you and on her day off, Robby came to have beers with Jack in the backyard.

You weren’t in so much pain after a few days, the insomnia that hit you worried both you and Jack. Most days you didn’t speak so the irritability that coursed through you whenever something remotely pissed you off never made its way off your tongue. You decided you should tell your mom, wanting drive down to Boston the next day. Jack wanted whatever you wanted, even if it meant not spending time with you or taking care of you. Interactions with you were sparing to begin with. It was a 9 hour drive, of course he was worried, it was what you needed, he had no mind to take that from you.

You left at 3 am, you stopped by the Pitt to say bye to him, it was the first time in a week anyone saw you and they didn’t know why. Rumors spread, first it was relationship issues, someone in your family died, maybe cheating.

It wasn’t that bad of a car ride, when you reached your mom’s house 2 hours earlier than expected, she was worried you were driving all night without Jack. Once you made it to your mom’s arms, you instantly just broke. But then you remembered, the only person that got you, understood and truly comforted you, was Jack- and Heather.

“At least you weren’t pregnant for that long” your mom started as you both sat down on the living room couch, there was a silence between you both as you genuinely wondered if those words had left your mom’s mouth or you were going crazy, “Look at the brigh-“.

“There is no bright side to this mom” you groaned, irritability finally running its course, “I lost a baby for pete sake’s, when this happened to Y/s/n my god I can’t even put into words how you were”.

“Well let’s be realistic, Y/s/n wasn’t putting herself at risk because she waited for what? For a career?” she prodded, “Not to mention look who you’re with Y/n, both of you are way too old to be thinking of kids, move on from that stage- you’re not even married”.

“I have to drive hours to see you yet you drop everything to be with Y/s/n and she lives across the country” you raked a hand through your hair, “And what the fuck do you mean?”.

“Do not raise your voice at me” your mom shouted at you, “You and I both know it is more common-“.

“I’m sorry who the fuck went to medical school out of the two of us?” you cut her off, “There’s a risk every single pregnancy, you think because I’m 33 I deserve to be handed this for ‘betraying my femininity’ for a career? You don’t seem to mind said career when you’re googling xyz and calling me in the middle of the fucking night”.

She remained stunned, “You’re hormonal, you’re not thinking rat-“.

“I am fine!” you broke, gritting your teeth, “You know I’ve always had dreams about you at my wedding but don’t even fucking bother anymore” you told her, putting the nail to the coffin, grabbing your car keys. By 1 pm you were as far away as humanly possible.

You made it to Pittsburgh at 11 pm, traffic took a hold on the interstate. You had stopped in Philly to get cheesesteaks for you and Jack. When you got home, his truck wasn’t in the driveway. You pulled out your phone to text him you were back, smiling at the lock screen.

It was one of the first photos you took with Jack, you both were in a trauma room in Daryl Kennedy’s chest cavity and Jack had identified the bleeder before thinking of pressure. Blood coated all over his gown and face, when you guys exited out of the room, it looked like you both saw war. So Bridget took it upon herself to snap a photo.

From babe; Back so soon?

The same way you didn’t want Jenna to be the one to break the news to him, you didn’t want him finding out about your mom via text.

You ended up crashing on the couch, the prolonged driving, the arguing. You were grateful for the fact that you and Jack often disagreed but never got into heated arguments that left you both with a sour taste in your mouth. You won the lottery when it came to understanding and communicative partners, you thanked therapy on both of your parts and the fact that you guys suffered in the beginning, basically making everything else easier.

You woke up from Jack coming home at 7 in the morning, unlocking the front door and accidentally dropping his keys on the doorstep. You got up to stretch, feeling like you reeked of the air conditioner from your car. You met him at the door, his smile making you feel better.

“Thought you were going to spend the night over there?” he told you, hanging his keys on the rack, kissing you as he walked to the kitchen.

Jack refused to treat you like fragile porcelain, he knew you hated it just as much as he did when he got his leg amputated. So, he’d talk to you normally, avoiding talking about the subject unless you brought it up. Only thing he did refuse was sex, you needed to heal internally. He did give you massages every other night, you’d beg him to massage your clit only for him to try and the contraction of your vagina to cause pain in your pelvis.

“We got in an argument” you confessed, trailing behind him, “Didn’t really end so well”.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked as he went into the fridge for his water jug.

“She insinuated this happened because I focused on being a surgeon in my twenties- I passed my prime and knew the risks” you sighed.

“What do you think?”.

“I think I was just careless, I was working long days, overtime and always on my feet- I was stressing myself out” you shrugged.

“You weren’t careless Y/n” he said before taking a swig of water, “Hell do you not remember the amount of books we bought?” he chuckled, “We’ll- you’ll get through this”.

“We will” you clarified, “It takes two” you joked. It was the first time you had- if anything this is the most Jack’s gotten out of you in days.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you gave him a hug, leading him to kiss the top of your head. “I’m sorry” you whispered.

“For?”.

“I’ve nudged you out of this” you sighed, “I don't even know how you feel”.

He looked into your eyes, “I feel like we should wait, let time run its course” he got closer to you, “When the time comes, it’ll come”. Jack had a staring problem, made you swoon, made others intimidated, “But for now we need to focus on you”. Those were the same eyes you fell in love with, the eyes you wish your children would have, “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”.

“I feel like I’ve rushed and forced this whole thing” you sighed, tears slightly welling up in your eyes, “Would we have gotten engaged if we didn’t almost break up over that argument?” you were spilling every thought and word, you knew him, you knew he wouldn’t get defensive over something you felt, “Better yet kids? Would that have even been a thought a couple months ago?”.

He sighed before squatting down so you can look down at him rather than up this entire time, it hurt the hell out of his back and put more pressure than he’d be comfortable with on his prosthetic. “I’ve wanted both of those things, before and during you” he took your knees in his hands, “It was hard to come to terms with it especially after already-“ he’s grip on your knees went tense, “It was always a ‘when and where’ with you. Before, dating, marriage, hell even hookups, kids, all were off the tables- not even a thought. I have to admit I’ve had my doubts, I’ve had vices and moments where I felt like I couldn’t be enough for you, couldn’t be enough to be there for you” he confessed, your hands found their way to his, “But I’m not me without you”.

“I’m not me without you either” you spoke up, “You’ve been more than enough help to me Jack” you slowly appreciated, “I need time. So much time that I can’t put a limit on” you spared breath, swallowing the shudder, “I love you, I don’t want this to break us”.

“Y/n, you could never drag me out of this, unless it was something you really wanted” he told you, “You’re it for me- for as long as you’ll have me”.

You returned to work that Monday, working day shifts, your engagement ring shining again the fluorescents. It turned down the rumors of the nurses, the silence as they saw you working was enough. The warmth of Pittsburgh cascading through the air, spring in full swing.

By the middle of April, you decided to take a test, two weeks of sporadic and careful passion with your fiance. As the lines indicated a pregnancy, you immediately dropped everything that night, driving to PTMC as quickly as you could. You stole Jack away from his job, he was worried for you, thinking you were hurt, only for you to ask for a blood test. All indicative of pregnancy.

dividers by @cafekitsune

#jack abbot #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot smut #jack abbot angst #the pitt #michael robinavitch #the pitt x reader #x reader #shawn hatosy #vanilleandclove

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naturesapphic · 2 days ago

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hi!🫶🏼 I adore your work🥰 I have a request for billie eilish x reader smut if you are up for it. how about billie comes home from touring or even just an interview or something and discovers reader in the billie merch boxers? idk if this has been done before because I‘m more of a quiet admirer in her fandom. if not no worries! have a great day!

Hot Attire

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, oral, fingering

“Princess im home!” Billie shouted in the quiet house. She had just came back from doing some interviews for the day and couldn’t wait to come home and have you in her arms. Billie runs up the stairs and almost trips over shark as she tries to get to you. She opens the door and her eyes widen in surprise at what she sees. It was you, on the bed, with her hit me hard and soft blue boxers on. The sight alone made her pussy clench and her blue eyes darken.

You felt someone staring at you so you looked up to see your girlfriend Billie. “Billie! You’re back!” You say happily as you rushed to get out of the bed and jumped into her waiting arms. She giggled slightly and caught you effortlessly in her strong arms. “You wearing my clothes hm princess?” She whispered in your ear softly and you felt your cheeks heat up. “Y-yes…just m-missed you.” You whisper back and Billie’s smile turns into a smirk at how needy you are getting for her.

“Yeah? Well I miss you.” Billie replied and you felt your cheeks heat up more at the tone of her voice and her movements. Her hands slide up your thighs and onto your back as she walks to the bed. She throws you onto it gently and goes on top of you, trapping you which you didn’t mind one bit. “You’re so beautiful.” She says under her breath as she takes you in. You always felt so loved and cared for at how Billie looks at you and how she treats you. “Thank you bils…” you replied shyly and Billie smiles brightly at you. She loves how shy you get, especially when she compliments you.

Billie places her hands on your thighs, slowly moving them up to the boxers you were wear and she gently tugged them down, revealing your soaked pussy to her. Billie licked her lips and had to stop herself from drooling all over the two of you. “K-kiss me.” You ask breathlessly and Billie smile as she leans down and captures your lips with hers. You immediately kissed back and felt yourself get more turned on the longer the kiss was. It was full of passion, lust and love for one another and soon, both of yall wouldn’t be able to control yourselves.

Billie pulled away from your lips slowly and looked in your eyes, making your heart soar with anticipation. She started kissing your neck, moving her lips down your body and you were getting more desperate as the seconds go by. You felt your body burn with desire and you couldn’t wait any longer and Billie could tell by how you were squishing underneath her. “Patients baby.” Billie whispered against your pelvis and you let out a little whimper that made her smirk. “So desperate for me huh? Want mommy to touch you?” She asked teasingly and you basically almost cried when she asked you and you blurted out a yes mommy.

“Good girl. Tongue or fingers?” She asked you and you blushed at the thought of the two. “T-tongue.” You shyly say and Billie giggled at how shy you get, especially when you are desperate. “Your wish is my command princess.” She whispers against your pelvis and licks it gently making your hips buckle. Her tongue slowly went down, finding your sensitive nub and swirls all around it. You whimpered loudly which fueled Billie’s confidence more and knew how good she was making you feel, which was very important to her. She kept swirling around your nub that made your back arch and she carefully took her index finger and gently pushed it into your hole making you gasp.

You felt her finger push in your tight hole and you knew you weren’t gonna last long. She pumps her finger in and out while licking on your clit, making extra stimulation for you. Billie loves making you feel good. It’s one of her pleasures and biggest turn ons. If you ask her to eat you out in public then she will gladly take you to the bathroom to do that. Doesn’t matter where yall go, she will automatically drop to her knees and please you in anyway you want. Your legs started to shake and your moans grew louder as you felt yourself about to cum. “Come on baby, let go for me yeah? Let me taste you.” Billie whispers against your pussy and you whined at her tone, making you clench around her finger.

“Come on Angel. Let go for mommy.” She said again and you let out your loudest moan yet and you cum all over her finger and face. She pulled away slightly from your clit and started licking up your essence. She moans softly under her breath and the vibrations from her moan makes you whimper. Billie cleans you up and kisses her way back up to your face and kisses your lips gently. You taste yourself on her lips and you blush wildly. “You did so good for me princess.” She praises you and you mumbled out a quiet thank you. “You need to wear my clothes more often.”

A/n: thank you @stayevildarling for the request! I apologize it’s late but I still hope you enjoy! I hope everyone enjoyed it too! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! :)

#billie eilish imagine #billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish #billie o’connell #singer #dom!billie eilish #wlw smut

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yourladyofmercy · 17 hours ago

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Back to Me || J.B.

☆ — Thunderbolts ! James "Bucky" Barnes x afab ! reader ☆ — He knew that you couldn't resist helping him, and he couldn't resist crawling back to you the moment he knew he had a chance to. Your wish for him to come back to you was granted, and yet he happened to be too late. ▹ —Content & Warnings : no use of Y/N, foul language, angst, past relationship mentioned, did i mention angst?, happy ending, MINOR THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS! ▹ — WC : 3.9 k ▹— A/N : oh my god hi this is my first post ever im peeing myself .. it took me so long to figure out how to do angst clean-up so they could have a happy ending so here you go !! I hope you like it xoxo

The sound of the buzzing from your fence. The notification from your doorbell app. you never planned to have someone here, especially this evening. Alpine’s fur rubbed against your leg as she walked by, giving you a curious look as you averted your gaze down to your phone.

The one person who hadn’t shown up when you had begged him to stay—to salvage whatever you two had left, is standing at your door. A hand rested on his ribs and a batch of misfits that fit a description of an off-brand Avengers were in worse shape than he was. You could see the group conversing between each other over your security feed.

Your heart seemed to be pulsing in your ears as you looked at his eyes, locking with yours as he stared into the camera in front of him. He had the same look in his face that you had seen on the nights that were plagued by the constant nightmares. The days where he couldn’t escape the pain that he had caused. He needed help—and God knows you couldn’t rest helping him.

———————

“If you all don’t shut up for once she won’t let us in” Bucky said, giving the slightest glare at the group behind him. His breath hitched as he said it, knowing that there was already a slim enough chance you would let him in, let alone a whole group of… well, whatever they were.

The house towered over the fence, lights coming from almost all of the windows on the first floor. Bucky remembered this house. His face deadpanned only leaving his eyes as a tell tale sign of his remembrance of this place—the love he left here. He remembers the rooms, the way you would wait for him on the stairs when he came home, the smell of the bathroom when the bath was running. All of it. Every moment flooded back to him, the life that he left. The life that he could have had. The big house, the family, the wife. Everything was on a platter in front of him, and yet it seemed as if the film had kept rolling without him in frame.

“By any chance are you going to tell us where you have us going?” Ava blurted out, resulting in Alexei sharply giving an elbow to her shoulder.“He said it’s a she. It’s probably a she-she.” Alexei said, giving a glance between Ava and Bucky.

A silence ran through the air as they all had the same thought running through their minds. They all seemed to have a lightbulb moment, immediately turning their heads to Bucky again. “Are we visiting your girlfriend, Bucky? Because I don’t think any of us are dressed to be making first impressions” Walker said, letting out a small chuckle when he finished. “And if this is your so called girlfriend why the fuck is she not letting us in?”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Walker.” He said, pivoting towards him and giving him a pointed stare. His shoulders were stiff and he stood more upright than he did before they had reached the gate. “Any more questions? Or are you all going to keep being irritable for the rest of the night when I’m the only one who has some sort of a plan here?” Bucky huffed in response, his hands exaggerating every single word that came out of his mouth.

The team took two steps back, John putting his hands up in surrender and shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake I’m sorry I’m the only one-“ Before Bucky could finish his sentence, the iron gate started to open with a creak. From their position, the driveway led up to only one of the large double doors open to the house. Distantly, a figure could be seen—leaning in the doorway with her hair swept to one side.

“What’s up with him.." Ava muttered to Yelena, earning her a shrug in response. The five walked up slowly, Bucky leading through the group ahead.

It was obvious life kept moving after Bucky left. Why wouldn’t it? The shrubs in front of the house were bigger. The flowers had bloomed, and he assumed you had planted more since hydrangeas were popping up now. Every flower was your favorite color and the scents were the ones you always pointed out when you two walked together around the neighborhood. He was surrounded by you again—and he hadn’t even said hello yet.

___________________

Once the group got closer, the image became even clearer for them.

“Hey, doll”

You leaned on the doorway with your arms crossed, no expression crossing your face. You couldn’t let him get to you again. Never again. Sure, you had thought about this moment. This fantasy moment of him coming back to you on a white horse and making amends—but it never came. Weeks passed, months, of waiting for anything. A call would have sufficed, and yet he’s standing at your door, half broken and bleeding.

Bucky felt himself falling apart as he inched closer to seeing you again. He could remember your face, wondering if you had changed your hair, or painted your nails another color than what he last saw you with.

“I’m guessing you got your ass kicked and my place was the closest?” It had taken you a second to respond, allowing the words that came out of his mouth to ripple in the air before you spoke. No one had called you that in upwards of a year and a half. The words felt foreign, like a knife entering a wound that had already healed once.

“That’s the long story short I guess–” John wanted to finish, but the death stare that he had received from Bucky was enough to result in his silence. “Doll you know it’s not like that– I swear” “What? Like you we’re going to call?” The rest of the “thunderbolts” felt like they needed a bucket of popcorn and lawn chairs to get through this argument.

Bucky shuffled closer to you, pushing his hair back with his left hand. “You know I wouldn’t have bothered you if it wasn’t serious. You’re the only person I thought of at the moment that would have dealt with… us.” Your eyes scanned the group in front of you, at least you knew who the off brand Captain America was. The rest… completely unfamiliar.

You moved to the side, gesturing them into the house with one arm. “Come on, before someone sees you all” your voice was little above a whisper, immediately locking the door once everyone was in.

___________________

“So… who are you guys?” All five of them sat on your couch, piled on top of eachother. The sofa jerked downwards as they all sat, slightly curving under their weight. “We are the Thunderbolts” Alexei said, waving his arms around for what he assumed added emphasis.

“The… Thunderbolts?” You furrowed your brow for a moment, looking at the whole group, then Bucky who was seated in an armchair alone. “Not officially, we did not agree on a name yet” Walker chimed in, placing his folded shield on the hardwood flooring. “It was the name of her childhood soccer team actually,” Ava said, smirking as Yelena covered her eyes and slid down in her seat. “Alexei’s idea originally.”

The house was cold inside, the type to make you wrap your arms around yourself when you walk in. The mantel was covered with framed photos, memories locked in a time of joy and laughter. Multiple spots on the mantel remained empty with a layer of dust covering the white paint, as if they were waiting for someone to fill them again. Empty Home Depot boxes were spread around, open but not filled. Books were still on their shelves with vinyl records mixed in between—except the house wasn’t a home. It felt empty and alone with only a young woman and her cat roaming inside. No shoes were left at the door, or coats being hung at the doorway. The firewood in the fireplace looks as if it was never lit, and everything was as if it was in a painting. Still and perfect.

Bucky almost didn’t recognize the house when he walked in. There was no jazz music playing in the background, cups littered around with tea and whiskey. The sound of laughter as the two of you danced barefoot across the floors. The house had turned grey, lost its color. No candles were lit and no sweet scents lingering around the house from them, or plants growing in each windowsill. Everything was shiny and unused, dust only covering up the small areas where his marks once were. The photo frames being taken down of the two of you, or the vases filled with flowers he would bring home whenever the old ones wilted. The house was perfect, but it was the complete opposite of the home he had with you.

Alpine had already made her way next to Bucky, and he cradled her like she was his first born. He was always the only one that was able to hold her like that. She purred as he pet her, nuzzling into his shirt. You gave a slight glance as he spoke to the cat in a low enough register that no one could hear. Even the cat missed him.

“Well, Thunderbolts.. make yourself at home” You were already making your way to the kitchen, peeking your head out of the doorway. “I’ll bring water and something a little stronger for those in need” You flashed a smile, rubbing your right arm as you walked in.

“I like her already,” Alexei shouted out “I do not understand why you do not stay here” Alexei made himself comfortable while pointing at Bucky. The whole team watched as he babied a white fuzzy cat—why would the winter soldier have a pet cat? Everyone seemed to feel like they were in an episode of the Twilight Zone, trying to figure out why Bucky would have given up a shot at domesticity.

“She is so out of your league man,” John said looking around the house, pressing his palms to his knees as he got up to look at the frames on the mantel. “Are any of these photos of you actually enjoying life by any chance?” He said while picking one of the frames up.

Bucky stayed silent, immediately putting Alpine down and walking towards the kitchen. He turned back for a moment, only muttering “Don’t break anything” before he disappeared to talk to you.

Yelena and Ava shared a look, Alexei suddenly having Alpine walking between his legs as he sat and John being entertained by looking at your shelves and photos. “We are having the same idea, right?” Yelena cocked her head slightly at Ava, quickly glancing at the doorway to the kitchen. “ohhh… yes. The same idea.” She gave a nod in agreement and the pair immediately sprung up and raced to the doorway, hoping to hear some strays of the conversation.

___________________

“Need any help?”

You could hear his boots on the wooden floors from a mile away. You knew his stride, his breath in silence, the way that he would tap on the kitchen counters as he waited for a response from you. You were scared of what you might let out if you opened your mouth, lashing out at him had no point, did it? It had been long enough for you to let this go—let him go. “There’s leftover lasagna in the fridge, too much for me to finish.” You pointed in the direction of the fridge as you put on the stove for some tea. It’s not like Bucky needed directions of where everything was, everything had still been in place from when he left. After all, what if he did come back home? You kept your head down, your eyes fixated on the stove burners. Bucky made his way closer to you, inching to the fridge while still looking for your face as your hair covered your side profile. Your arms were crossed, leaning on the kitchen island behind you. “Doll–” his breath hitched as he got closer, reaching out for the back of your arm. “Don’t.” You said sharply, flinching and then tucking your hair back into place as it fell out. He watched as you moved to the otherside of the island, acting like you were looking for something in the cabinets below. “We really don’t have to do this Buck.” You stood back up with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses in your hand, setting them down on the counter. “We can’t do this–I can’t keep doing this with you.” Your eyes looked like you were pleading. Pleading for this cat and mouse game to be over. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” His body hovered over the counter, leaning towards you as his hands gripped onto the marble. “I never want to hurt you– you know that.” He pushed his hair back with his right hand, closing his eyes as he awaited your response. Bucky knew that ending this was for the better. The lingering looks at parties, the nights sat drinking at the hotel bar and laughing over your childhood stories. A spark doesn’t always light a fire, he kept telling himself. He could mess around, find someone who eased the loneliness that constantly ate away at him. To fill his nights with something other than waking up in a cold sweat. He never wanted to get this attached to you.

New nightmares were added to his nightly rotation once he left and you were the main character. How he had left you haunted him, adding to his list of lives that he had lost one way or another. He knew you could find anyone, probably someone who is more in your league to actually agree with Walker for once.

You stayed silent, unable to look up at his eyes. “You know I saw dancing in our living room for the rest of our lives and children with your last name,” You pushed your hair back out of your eyes, twiddling with a ring that laid on your left hand. He didn’t know how he didn’t notice it before. He glazed back and forth at the ring, you could feel his eyes practically burning a hole into it.

“I had to move on Buck.” You finally looked up at him, as he met your gaze the silence was palpable. His mouth opened, then shut again, just analyzing this new person he stood in front of. You weren’t his anymore. “You didn’t have to go get fucking married.”

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Keep waiting for you?” You cocked your head to the side, tears starting to brim at your eyelashes. “And don’t play the ‘it was for your own god’ and ‘i wasn’t meant for this kind of life’ card.” The tea kettle started to whistle in the background, low enough for it to go unnoticed between the two of you even between the silence. The world felt as if it was just you two standing in it, no one in your living room and no threat to the world sitting right outside your door. “You know damn well I would’ve patched up every wound on your body. I would have dealt with every sleepless night that came with you because I would rather be knee deep in your blood and everything else that comes with you than go on without you”

He stayed silent. He never knew how to respond in these situations. He was made to observe, to stay silent and simply react. He watched you stare into his eyes, desperately looking for something in him that he knew wasn’t there.

James Barnes was the man that you wanted to marry, but he wasn’t the man that was going to marry you. He knew he couldn’t be the picture perfect husband. The one that could take care of children or simply take care of the house. He tried to be domesticated, for you, for your future together. But the world seemed to fight him in every way. Bucky felt as if he would do anything just to tell you that he was sorry, yet you probably didn’t want to hear any of it. He didn’t know if you had yearned for the day you two would touch again. Until the day that the two of you would meet again. He missed the way that you laughed in surprise when he remembered something small, or the way you would stay up talking to him until the sun came up. “You’ll get over this, doll.” His jaw clenched after he said it, a piece of his heart leaving with the words when they escaped from his mouth.

You shook your head silently, looking back down at the counter. “You haven’t.” The world seemed to stop spinning. A year of waiting, dreaming of when he would come back to you. You could see your face at the altar, marrying the man who you knew would stay. The one that had no risk, he was safe.

None of your friends had to worry that he may hurt you. That the love of your life would suddenly go rabid, killing anyone and everyone. Maybe even you. The man who didn’t have a foggy reputation, one who instead had a bright future. A stable life and a happy wife. A big white wedding with a dress that seemed to drown you and a life–

“Do you love him?” “What?” “Are you as in love with him as you were with me?”

“He’s a nice guy, Buck.”

The tea kettle continued to whistle, growing louder and louder as the two of you finally snapped out of each other. Your breath hitched, as you muttered a curse word under your breath, your hands slightly shaking as your hand brushed his body as you walked past. “You don’t have to marry him.” He turned towards you, the two of you now standing directly in front of each other. “I’ll always be waiting for you,” as you attempted to walk away again, you felt his hand lightly grab your forearm. “I will never get over this, but I did this for you.” Your head knew better than to give into this. To run out of this house while you still had the chance. “I did it so you could fall in love with someone who could have given you everything,” His hand cupped your face for a moment, you couldn’t help but lean into it, savoring it. Imprinting this moment into your memory so you would never forget this… or forget him. ___________________

The group all started saying their thank you and goodbyes as night completely covered your neighborhood, allowing for a safe exit for the whole group. It’s as if they only needed some water and food to actually be able to make a suitable plan to save New York.

The group started to walk away from your door, all looking like they had a renewed purpose in a good two hours of rest. John, Ava, and Yelena continued to bicker their way down your driveway. The only one left inside was Bucky, saying his final goodbyes to Alpine yet again. As he finally made his way out the door, Alpine threaded through your legs as you both watched him leave. “I don’t know how to make this up to you” Bucky turned towards you, a hand resting on his hip. “No need, Bucky.” Your breathing was heavy, as you looked at him again. Trying to take in those details that you’ll ‘get over’ anyways. The way that his eyes closed as he smiled, or the way that his eyes looked in the middle of the night. Closure was what this was. The light finally fading on a chapter of your life that you continuously tried to close by yourself. Maybe this is what you needed. Bucky pivoted on his left foot, giving a mock salute one last time. Your breath started to quicken and you found yourself blinking back the tears that threatened to escape again. You watched the man you thought was the love of your life walk away for a second time tonight. You waved, one hand slightly covering your mouth as you made an attempt to silent the small sobs that were about to fall once you locked your door behind you. ___________________ Bucky’s apartment buzzer continued to go off, his hands fiddling with a light blue tie that matched with his eyes—or at least that's what John had told him when he was picking out a suit for this evening. Tonight was just another one of Val’s PR stunts. She and Mel are in the midst of trying to make the New Avengers look like the shiny new heroes that come to the rescue for everything. They weren’t anything like Steve or Tony. Sam definitely didn’t think so either.

“Jesus christ…” He finally made his way over to the buzzer, automatically allowing them up assuming it was Yelena or John coming to pick him up. He slid on his grey suit jacket, giving a glance at his gloves before deciding to leave them on his foyer’s table. As the knock on the door finally came, he slid his boots on and walked over, “You know I told you to be here thirty minutes ago, we’re supposed to be at least slightly punctual–” His breath stopped at the sight in front of his door. It was you waiting for him outside of his apartment. You were in a white sundress that he recognized, with your hair pinned up and flowers in your hand. “Hi.” you looked like a deer in headlights when he opened the door. Everything you had practiced went out the door. “I had practiced this for days–and I brought flowers because I thought it was something you would do..” You swallowed all the spit forming in your mouth as you watched him look you up and down. Bucky looked down at your ring finger, seeing it completely bare from the last time he saw you nervously fidgeting with it. You caught him, watching his eyes go back to your face from your hand. “I couldn’t do it, Buck,” you said “I know that you probably don’t want me to be here and–”

Your whole speech was cut off by him matching his mouth with yours, pulling you in by your right arm. Your arms wrapped around him, your left arm reaching out and dropping the flowers on his foyer table. After all, flowers will not be wasted in this economy. You stood on your tiptoes, his hands moving to cup your face as your lips parted for a moment.

“You don’t know how much I thought about this moment” He said, slightly pushing your hair back behind your ear. “I do, actually” a slight giggle came out of your mouth, making a smile appear on his face again. “I’m sorry, for everything” he said, you watched him as he took in this moment, every detail seemed to be recognized by him. “Stop apologizing, I forgave you as soon as I saw you at my doorstep those months ago. I love you so much that I couldn’t help not forgiving you.” you grabbed his tie and reeled him back in, your arms wrapping around his neck as he leaned down to kiss you again.

Because what is love if not longing to have one come back to you?

#bucky barnes #thunderbolts #mcu thunderbolts #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #thunderbolts*#marvel #marvel mcu #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #bucky barnes x female reader

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vrystalius · 2 days ago

Note

Can I request headcanons for Gortash, Raphael, Haarlep, Rolan, and Zevlor reacting to his gn s/o who always do your best to take care of him like making sure he rests properly please?

Taking care of them.

What would they act like when you tale care of them?

Pairing: Gortash, Raphael (+Haarlep), Rolan, Zevlor x gn!reader

Words: tralala

Genre: Fluff

Note: Check out my personalised letters event over here <3 Also I kept Haarlep’s a little short and kinda made it into a bonus.

Gortash // Chosen of Bane.

He has to keep up appearances to the public and to become the proper hero of the gate that saved the all the people within the walls from Ketheric’s army, but behind all the closed doors and especially in the evenings, you can tell that Gortash is anything but doing resting properly.

There is always something that needs his attention, something pulling him away from good night’s sleep or a decent meal that consists of actual nutritions and things like vitamins. Gortash is known to skip out on those. So, you took on the responsibility to make sure the chosen of Bane doesn’t pass away prematurely.

While he is busy going through papers and caving up in his office to hide away from the public, you continuously checked on your lover and placed a bowl of food down in front of his nose. The meals consisted of meats, vegetables, sometimes a cup of black coffee, sometimes a glass of well-aged wine from the cellar to go along with the meat.

Gortash sometimes complains about how you didn’t bring him any dessert, but then again, you are right there with him. There is no better dessert than your sweetness.

Getting him into bed and to shut his eyes and rest is surprisingly easy. He barely protests and sometimes doesn’t even change out of his clothes before positioning himself into your arms, letting your hands gently caress him to sleep. Your fingers slowly brush through his messy hair while his face was squished up against your chest, his warm breath slowly getting slower and slower until you heard Gortash’s snores interrupt the silent room.

He sleeps very lightly. Everything and anything can pull him out of his slumber, but you try to make an effort to keep his sleep as peaceful as possible.

The door to your private bedroom will be sealed with a ward to keep everyone out. Gortash’s head will be nestled against your neck or buried into your cleavage, your arms draped around his body to keep his body against yours. The sounds of you sleeping are like pleasant white noise to him which helps him sleep through the night. You are the more pleasant form of a cup of lavender tea or a hot cup of milk with honey.

But you being the perfect way for him to fall asleep is actually not a very good thing, especially when you are separated from him. Gortash wouldn’t be able sleep even if someone hit his head with a pan over and over without you by his side or within his radius. It’s actually embarrassing how restless he becomes without you.

Raphael // The handsome devil (cambion).

He finds it amusing how much you fuss over him sometimes. Raphael is a devil with a whole house dedicated to him— don’t you think he has some poor soul to serve to him?

He especially adores it when you try and drag him to bed for some rest. As a devil, or cambion, Raphael doesn’t need to sleep or even eat, but he spend some of his very precious time in bed in order to keep you happy. But perhaps it is not just to entertain you and your wishes, maybe Raphael has his own selfish reason to let you curl up in his arms, his leathery wings wrapping around you like a cocoon, his tail wrapping around your waist to pull you impossibly closer.

Your devil never believed you when you told him that he purrs when he naps, but you know what you heard and felt. Your whole body vibrates slightly when he does, when his face is buried in your neck and his chest pressed against yours. It does resemble that of a cat but it sounded much more threatening in a way. Stroking the back of his head or his neck amplifies the purrs Raphael keeps denying. You need to sometime use Haarlep as a witness or something.

Raphael doesn’t really get physical and goes to fight some souls that broke his contract himself, but in the rare cases he does, he never gets injured. But you still insist on him taking a long bath in his boudoir to heal if needed, but he quite a good haggler, so you always end up soaking in the healings waters alongside him, being catered by some of the servants working there.

Pampering Raphael is a hard thing to do, it’s just that he is already being spoiled plenty. He has a whole house in Avernus for himself, his own incubus, hundreds, perhaps already thousands of contracted souls and now you, his little mouse.

The only way you can further spoil him is by distracting him from important work and redirect his focus onto you and how you so easily slid onto his lap without any protest from the devil, his hands immediately finding your waist and thighs to pull you closer against him, his quill now tossed to the side and staining the wood below with ink. His smirking lips would find yours while your arms drape over his shoulders— You’ve successfully distracted from his exhausting work and it’s not worth to continue writing, Raphael thinks.

+bonus: Haarlep // The incubus.

Haarlep enjoys to laze around and having you to pamper him even more, reminding him to take naps and having a snack by the lavish dinner table is quite literally perfect. Sometimes, if he especially gets pouty or whiny, you’ll bring him a plate directly to bed to eat.

Although whenever you outright ask him if he has been sleeping, eating and taking care of himself properly, he’ll smirk and tease you for caring so much about him before pretending he hasn’t, just so you can fuss and dote on him. Haarlep eats all of your attention right up!

But he does feel incredibly flattered whenever you pay attention to him in any way that isn’t meant to be sexual or lead to sex. He of course enjoys the pleasure of mortal and immortal flesh, but sometimes it gets boring and exhausting. It’s nice to cuddle for a bit instead of going at it like bunnies.

He savours every minute he can have you by himself and away from the master of the house. Just like Raphael, he purrs very loudly. The vibrations gently passing through your whole body. His tail is always wagging slightly and you can watch the speed picking up every tome you scratch his scalp or chin.

Let’s just say that Haarlep really, really loves being taken care of. It’s nice to be the pillow princes sometimes.

Rolan // The wizard’s apprentice.

(Small spoilers for his apprenticeship in Lorroakan’s tower)

He both hated and really loves the way you at least try to take care of him. Rolan is a stubborn Tiefling so convincing him to do something so little as put the book and take a nap could turn into a battle where you are on the floor, hugging and gripping onto his leg so he cannot move, only letting go once he pinky promises to come to bed soon.

If not for you, the wizard probably would’ve either died from dehydration or collapse from lack of food and sleep. How he managed to survive before being with you is a miracle.

Whenever you know he’s off to go study in the library, reading a new book of spells or practicing cantrips, you have to physically shove a plate of food and a glas of water into his hands to remind him to eat. Then, he sometimes places it down on a desk and makes a mental note to eat it in a moment, right after he puts the book away. Rolan ends up getting distracted by a journal tucked away in the elaborate shelves that now needs his attention and his meal goes uneaten, cold and forgotten.

But you have been noticing how Rolan has been slowly becoming more and more gloomy, how bruises have been forming on his face and arms. He excused it as him getting injured during spellcasting or being stupid and hitting himself on furniture, but you definitely knew better. You could tell that he was ashamed of whatever or whoever has been hurting him.

It was probably that insane wizard Loarrakan punishing your lover like this, although his couldn’t be considered a punishment anymore. It was abuse.

Rolan refuses to let you talk or even meet the wizard and there’s nothing much you can do. You’ll quietly disinfect the new bruise on his cheekbone and tend to his wounds while he sits there, his head lowered in shame. He needs affection from you now more than ever to let him know that you love him.

The wizard, again, does not very willingly lets himself being taken care of and is a firm believer that he is supposed to be providing for you, not the other way around. But sometimes Rolan melts in your palms like butter, basically crawling into your arms and nudging you with his head to ask for some cuddles and to be held without needing to speak.

He’ll casually cast some visual spells around to entertain you while your hands get busy with his hair and your legs tangle with his. A small smile would slowly spread more and more over his face with every second passing where his eyes watching yours sparkle at the illusion of a starry night he casted onto your bedroom ceiling.

(Act 1)

Zevlor // Leader of the Tieflings // Exiled Hellrider

Zevlor deserves the world and you know it, but he doesn’t. At least not yet.

You always gently remind him to take a breather, eat a little something, take a walk to calm his mind or finally retire for the night and go to bed. He appreciates your little reminders and how manage to always make sure he was doing okay, despite all of the stress and troubles plaguing his mind.

Despite your caring nature and your fussing over him, Zevlor actually feels more like a burden to you now. You always make sure he eats a decent meal, even if that’s after every other refugee had a meal for themselves, assure him that he is doing great as their leader despite all the hardships and manage to brighten his mood with your mere presence. He loves you dearly and is thankful for all you do, but seriously, you don’t have to. He’ll be fine by himself.

You shouldn’t be doing this for him, it’s suppose to be the opposite. Or at least Zevlor should be doing more for you and taking care of you, not him.

So, he’ll begin to mirror your actions; whenever you try to bring him some food from the camp, Zevlor has a plate saved for you as well ans now you can have lunch together. You shoo him out of his makeshift meeting chamber and force him to take a little walk outside the grove, he’d extend his arm and have you walk alongside him. You think about heading out and go hunt for some boars, his blade is at the ready for you to use. You try to coerce him to take a nap or sleep for the night, you’ll be having to spoon him from behind to cuddle him.

You can never just take care of him, Zevlor always has to take care of you in return or at first. Only that way he doesn’t feel guilty for you spending your energy and time on solely taking care of him, something he is supposed to be doing on his own but fails so often. He feels a little embarrassed about that, and you can always see how his face blushes and lights up in surprise whenever you re-appear to check in on him.

Oh, what has he done to deserve someone as heavenly as you?

💠

Author’s note. Thank you for reading <3

Zevlors part fell a little short, sorry for that— I hope you enjoyed this as much as I loved writing it 🫶 Tysm for the request!!

Check out the event I’m hosting on my blog <3 I’ll choose 4 participating users randomly to receive a personalised letter from their favourite character <3

Make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough <33

Take care of yourselves <3 Remember that you are loved!

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ilysungho · 2 days ago

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wait if we're on tbe topic of taesan being the biggest voyeur... how about taesan watching his virgin gf take her own virginity with a toy she secretly bought just to practice on?

i can just imagine him being so soft bringing it up to you after he saw it peeking from underneath your bed, but still teasing because he found it so adorable how willing you were to learn how to please not only yourself but him.

he'd be cooing and comforting you with a rub on the thigh whenever the stretch was too much, and once your hole finally adjusted to the toy, his hand was already over top of your free hand, teaching you how to properly touch yourself (without taesan himself going insane)

a/n: why is this actually so adorable UGHHHH this is so so so SO cute i love this also side track but satisfied from hamilton came on and i actually got transported back to FREAKING MIDDLE SCHOOL wow... also this got really long... so hehe enjoy <333 contains: dom!taesan x sub!reader, virgin!reader, big-dick!taesan, voyeur!taesan, use of toys (dildo), praising, use of nicknames (baby, love), riding, lowercase intended (0.7k words)

boyfriend taesan helping you as he squeezes your hand for support while you use the dildo you secretly bought to practice on... you know he's big from having felt him harden up under you whenever you made out, so you had to prepare yourself for the day you're ready to have your virginity taken, by him specifically. you hid it from him though, because you were embarrassed to tell him about it :(

taesan found it so cute how flustered you got when he asked you what was under your pillow as he walked in on you hastily hiding the toy behind you, covering yourself up with the blanket after. he doesn't seem mad, just very amused. your boyfriend walked right up to you and pushed you down the bed slowly while kissing your lips you were previously biting. he finds the whole situation adorable, his hand pulling out the slightly wet toy at the tip, otherwise dry the rest of the way, as he pulls you back up to sit as you were once again. he sits on the edge beside you, tilting his head and showing you what he's found while cocking an eyebrow. after questions and some reassurance from him, he finally convinces you to let him help you use it for him.

"'s too big," you say as you hold the base with one hand and pull your panty to the side with the other, his hands caressing your thighs softly. "it's ok baby, let me help you ok?" he finds the hidden lube you also got after you tell him where it is, pouring a lot more on it. he settles in once again to have his legs around yours as you're on your knees between them. he helps you move the panty after, his thumb rubbing your clit, which makes you shiver above. he had total control of the situation as he told you to lower yourself onto the toy, his fingers continuously rubbing you. his stimulation certainly helps you as you are able to get wetter, pushing yourself past the tip.

this is the most you have ever been able to feel, moaning at the pleasure as you shut your eyes tightly at said feeling. your boyfriend's praises get muffled out from how your walls are stretching, your hand holding his wrist which kept moving at your clit, switching between that and your slick folds. "open your eyes love," is all you could hear as you obey his word and look at him, his brown orbs staring back into you. he kept a proud smile as you bottomed out, encouraging you to move after.

taesan kept his full attention on you, trying to ignore the growing tent in his tight jeans as he kept his hands on you. the one on your thigh moved up under your shirt's hemline, rubbing the skin under as it settled there to help you ride the dildo. he really wishes it was his dick instead, but at the same time, being able to watch you go down on the toy is just as arousing, if not more.

your teary eyes kept a watchful gaze on him as you slowly lifted up, already missing the feeling of being as full as you were mere seconds ago. taesan's grip on your hip wasn't tight, but it really did help you stay in place as you went back down, both of you groaning at the movement. he couldn't help but make his own sounds from simply watching, imagining you making all the sounds you are right now as you ride him. you repeat the motions, groans turning to whines of his name falling out of your lips which makes him so much hornier than he already is.

as you get closer to the edge, you hug his neck, riding the toy faster before taesan breaks away. he had to watch you cum, even though he didn’t say it outright, instead squeezing your now interlocked hands. “you can let go baby, it’s ok.” he says as he kisses your forehead. you close your eyes once again, focusing on releasing the knot that’s been tightening in your core. your quivering lips whimper as his fingers free themselves from one of your hands to rub your clit again, helping you finally reach your peak. shaking atop the toy, your throat keeps making all sorts of noises that has your boyfriend going insane on the inside. he’s just relishing the scene in front of him as you lean down onto him once again, heaving against his chest while you come down from your high. “thank you ‘san… i’ve never felt this good before…”

“well, i’ll make sure you can feel even better with my help next time.”

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allthingsfangirl101 · 2 days ago

Text

Dancing To Break Open – Glen Powell

Glen's POV

"And cut!"

Y/N and I instantly relaxed. The cameras moved off of us, and we shared a small smile.

"We're done."

"Yes, we are," she chuckled. She may have said that lightly, but something was off.

"Any plans for tonight?" I asked, trying to get her to open up a little.

Y/N and I have worked on Twisters for a little over a month now. We didn't quite have the kind of costar connection I wish we had. Whenever I asked her to hang out or get drinks after work, she'd thank me for the invite, but say she can't. She never gives me an explanation. Just promises that we'll hang out another time. We never do.

"I've gotta work on memorizing my lines," she instantly answered. "These scientific terms are going to destroy me."

She sent me a soft smile before turning on her heel and heading toward her trailer.

I thought it was a one-time thing. It wasn't. Y/N acted the same the next day. But this time, I didn't let her think no one noticed.

When we got to work the next day, I asked her how her night was. She smiled, shrugged, and said it was fine.

I couldn't help but keep my eye on her throughout the day. First look, she seemed fine. But if you looked closer and longer, you could see that something was weighing on her shoulders. I pushed aside my worry about her and got ready for the scene.

Y/N and I stood in front of the fake laptop, pretending to analyze what will be CGIed onto it.

"So this is an EF1, perfect conditions," I recited. "Run your experiment, see if it works."

"Okay," Y/N said as she pretended to look at the notebook and type in the numbers, "so, um, 1,500 kilos of polymer absorbing 300 times its weight."

"So, it's 450,000 kilos of precipitation loading into our water-filled polymer to load the updraft. Let's see how the model responds," I recited.

"Buoyancy of the rising air is reducing," Y/N said as we watched the green screen."

"It's reducing," I repeated. "Slowing the updraft."

"Temp is going down."

"Kate?" I waited a second before softly saying. "Kate, in theory, this should've worked."

Y/N looked up at me and said, "In theory." We held our eye contact for a second before she looked back at the screen. "But it wasn't an EF1 that day. I mean. . . We never had a chance."

"You want one?"

I looked at Y/N and waited for her to look at me. When she did, we held our eye contact longer. Eventually, Y/N looked at the barrels behind me. I turned, following her gaze. We held that spot for another second, waiting for Lee to yell cut.

"Cut!" He finally yelled. "Nicely done, you two!"

I looked back at Y/N expecting to see her excitedly smiling at me, but she wasn't. She was looking at her hands. I opened my mouth to say something to her, but closed it when I realized that whatever I said, she'd just lie to me again. Instead of talking to her, I decided to do something else.

I grabbed her hand and spun her around. She gasped when I spun her around. As I pulled her into my chest and started dancing with her, she giggled.

"Glen," she elongated, "what are you doing?"

"What?" I shrugged. "Anything wrong with wanting to dance with a pretty girl?"

Y/N giggled as I spun her around. When she was back in my arms, she looked up at me through her eyelashes.

"Nothing," she whispered. "Absolutely nothing."

We kept our eye contact as we swayed side to side. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. As we danced, my mind filled with questions.

Was Y/N embarrassed?

Was she struggling with something in her personal life?

Did she think she wasn't good enough to be in our movie?

Was it something I did?

Did I make her uncomfortable?

Was someone bothering her on set?

Was Y/N in trouble?

That thought made me finally speak up. "Y/N, I can't shake the feeling that something is going on," I started. "You can talk to me. I'm not going to tell anyone. Plus, maybe I can help you. Am I wrong? Y/N, are you in some sort of. . ."

"Alright," Lee laughed. "As cute as it is to watch the two of you dance, let's get things ready for the next scene."

Before I could do anything or say anything, Y/N walked away. Despite my attempts throughout the day, I couldn't talk to Y/N again. It seemed as if we were never alone. I walked out of my trailer tired from filming, but annoyed that I couldn't talk to Y/N.

As I was leaving, I walked past Y/N's trailer. I froze when I saw the light still on inside. I didn't hesitate.

I walked to her trailer and knocked on the door. I waited for her to say something, but she didn't. Slowly, I opened the door and peeked my head in. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Y/N asleep on her couch. I walked in and knelt next to her.

"Y/N," I whispered. I gently touched her on her shoulder to wake her up. I struggled to ignore the feeling in my stomach as she slowly woke up.

"Glen?" She sleepily mumbled.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," I teased.

She sat up and instinctively fixed her hair. "Why are you asleep in your trailer and not at home?"

Her eyes slightly widened. She opened and closed her mouth, clearly trying to come up with a lie.

"Y/N," I said gently, "please. What's going on? I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong."

"It's nothing," she instantly stuttered. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

When she still refused to say anything, I grabbed her hand and sat next to her.

"Please, Y/N," I whispered. "Talk to me."

"It's stupid," she said, her eyes on our hands. I intertwined our fingers to try and get Y/N to look up at me. I smiled when she did.

"I bet it's not," I gently teased. She studied me for a second before sighing.

"I broke up with an old co-star of mine," she confessed, her voice soft. "Our movie ended, and we were never around each other. The longer we went without seeing each other, I realized that I wasn't in a rush to see him. You know? And I don't want a relationship like that. I want a guy I can't wait to see. A guy that if I go even one day without seeing him, it's too long. I want a guy who is eager to see me, too."

"I get that," I said gently. "He wasn't that guy, so you broke up with him."

"Not a first," she sighed. My heart sank when she looked away from me. "I tried to talk to him about this. He brushed it off. It turned into a fight, and that's when I found out that he was only with me because he thought it would improve his career."

"I'm so sorry, Y/N," I said, subconsciously scooting closer to her.

"I told him I wasn't going to be used," she said, her voice breaking.

"Good for you," I tried to praise her. "How long ago was this?"

"A week?" Her voice broke again, causing me to move closer to her. "I got a call from him a couple of days ago. He was clearly drunk and swore to ruin my career, my name. . . my life."

"He threatened you?" I asked, my jaw clenched. My tone of voice made Y/N look up at me, shock clearly written on her face.

"He hasn't done anything," she said slowly.

"Is this why you're afraid to go home?" I asked, struggling to control my anger. She looked away, giving me her answer. I took a shaky breath to try and calm down before standing up and pulling her with me.

"What are you. . ." She stuttered.

"I'm taking you home," I said, not noticing my jaw was still clenched until I spoke. "And if that guy is anywhere near you. . ."

"Glen, stop," she said, pulling on my arm and turning me toward her.

"I am not going to let him hurt you."

"I don't think he will," she said, but there was fear in her eyes. "I'm probably just overreacting."

"But. . ."

"I'm fine," she cut me off.

"I will let you go home under one condition," I offered. "You promise to call me if your ex ever shows up."

"Glen. . ."

"I mean it, Y/N," I cut her off. "I need to know that if something ever goes wrong, you'll call me so I can come help you. If I let you go home and something happens to you. . ."

"It wouldn't be your fault," she continued when I didn't. Without thinking, I gently put my hands on her arms, rubbing them up and down.

"I couldn't handle if something happened to you and I wasn't there to protect you."

"It's not your job to protect me," she tried to joke.

"What if I want it to be?"

My question surprised her.

"Why would you want it to be?" She asked slowly.

I smiled as I took a step closer to her. I heard her gasp when I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer. "Because," I whispered, "I want to be the guy who is dying to see you all day. The guy who can't wait to leave work and wrap you in his arms. A guy that if I go even one day without seeing you, it's too long. I want to be eager to see you."

"You do?"

To answer her question, I leaned in and gently kissed her. My heart jumped into my throat when she slowly started to kiss me back. Any happiness I had disappeared when she suddenly broke the kiss.

"I can't. . ." She stuttered, shaking her head.

"What's wrong?" I asked, pulling her into my chest to keep her from walking away.

"This is what happened with him," she said, her eyes on our shoes. "We dated because we were filming together. Our feelings were only attached to our movie and our characters' relationship. That's what's going on here, Glen. Can't you see? You don't like me. Your character likes my character. I can't. . . I can't do this again, Glen. I'm sorry."

She started to walk away, but I caught her wrist. I turned her around and instantly connected my lips to hers. I broke the kiss and leaned my forehead against hers.

"It'll be different, Y/N," I whispered. "I promise."

Masterlist

#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagines #Twisters #twisters 2024 #glen #powell #glen powell imagine #glen powell twisters

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remussaggressivedogspecialist · 2 days ago

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She's a Princess, and You're an Ogre

Remus Lupin x Reader

Warnings: Idk man 16+ for suggestiveness at the end

A/N: if you like it drop a follow☺️

WC: 3.5k

Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. What the fuck were you thinking, like you were could be in some kind of relationship? You were a Zabini, for Merlin's sake, and if you weren't even good enough at home, why would you assume you were good enough for him?

Him.

Light and dark, the raging storm and the calm front, the sun and the moon. Remus. He was imperfectly perfect. You adored his flaws. And so did everyone else. Why did you think you could confess how in love you were with him and expect it to go well when he had half of Hogwarts' female and partially male population waiting on him hand and foot? You wanted to smack yourself. You should smack yourself.

He hadn't even said anything when you poured your heart out and told him how you felt. Not a fucking word. He stood there for a minute, and then you left. It was better than him rejecting you, as if that was any comfort. But he didn't say the words. He didn't say, 'I don't love you' or 'I could never love you'. He was too kind for that. But you knew he thought it.

Why did you think it would end well? Nothing ever ends well for you. You just wanted to win. Just once. You should've kept your mouth shut, then you would've kept him, at least as a friend. It would've killed you every day to be friends with the man who was your reason for waking up some mornings, but it was better than this hellish purgatory. You avoided him with everything you were.

Sat as far away from him any time you were in a room together, and he'd never make you uncomfortable because that was how good he was, so he left it alone, for awhile, at least. You were contemplating hurling yourself over the railing of the astronomy tower when your thoughts were interrupted. You had sequestered yourself between the bookshelves of the massive library, but now you were caught.

He was the last and first person you wanted to see right now. It was ripping you to pieces but you plastered on an almost peeved look as his words, or word, reached your ears.

"Hey."

Very inventive.

“Hi,” you replied, wishing that the ground would swallow you up. That would be a much appreciated demise as of this moment.

He seemed rather sheepish. That was new. He came closer and you tried to hide your discomfort. His hands tucked into his pockets in a way that you'd watched him do a million times, and you hated everything you loved about him right now. "You've been avoiding me," he'd stated it like it was a fact, instead of a question.

“I have not.” You lied through your teeth. You knew it. He knew it. The books knew it. They were judging you with their old, cracked spines, shaped into eyebrows and glares and judgemental looks. Was that your mother in a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?

"Yes, you have."

His tone was still soft, as it always with you. Even now, he was being gentle with you because he knew how you were, and it made you want to strangle him. He had every right to yell and he wouldn't.

"You won't even look at me.”

You glanced in his general direction to prove him wrong, but could hardly hold eye contact for more than five seconds from your spot on the floor, a book on lycanthropy in your lap. Even unconsciously, you wanted him. How pathetic.

His mouth opened and closed again as if he was searching for words before he eventually went with, "You haven't spoken to me in weeks."

Weeks.

He'd been keeping track of how long you'd been ignoring him it seemed. The knowledge felt like daggers. He was keeping count. Like anyone would when their best friend confesses their love and then completely fucking ignores them for the next month.

“Has it been that long?” You kept composure and mentally applauded yourself. Well done, you, you're an even more terrible person than you thought.

"Yes."

He was still looking at you like he was surprised you were speaking to him, almost like he thought you were an hallucination. "It has been.”

“Well. Did you need something?” You were being rude. To him. To Remus. To kind, sweet, thoughtful Remus. You had a special seat within the seven rings of hell.

"I-"

He hadn't planned this far ahead.

"Yes."

He pulled his hands from his pockets and shoved them into his hair in frustration. He was the best wordsmith of your year, and you were making him speechless. You could only watch as he paced around the space in front of you.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

He finally came to a stop and he looked so frustrated. If you were honest with yourself, you would also say that he looked very, very sexy right now, standing there in front of you with his hair completely askew, his cheeks flushed, his eyes boring into your own. But you aren't honest with yourself right now, so you attempt your most annoyed look.

“Merlin's beard, Rem, why else?” You drawled. You sounded like Severus. You didn't want to drawl. You wanted to scream.

He paused for a moment, then sighed. "Right." He shoved his hands back into his pockets and looked off to something over your shoulder, as if he was still too nervous to maintain eye contact with you.

“Is that it?” Special. Place. In. Hell.

"I-" And you'd broken him again. He was a brilliant orator, he was charming and witty and could talk himself out of anything, he was eloquent and clever, but you seemed to rob him of his words. He didn't want to do this, he'd spent the day trying to talk himself out of this, but he'd been getting sick of sitting idly by, and now he was here. And now he was going to say it.

"When you confessed to me..." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in an effort to not lose to his own emotions. "When you confessed to me... you took me completely by surprise.”

Shocker.

“Yes, Remus, I noticed. Thank you.” When did you become so mean? But at your snark, Remus cracked a slight smile. A beautiful, wondrous, spectacular half smile. That was the most you'd gotten since the night you'd said those damned words.

He sighed, and seemed to be trying to find the least painful way to say what he had to say next. That only made your stomach twist a little tighter. "Look, I just..."

“I know.” The least you could do was save him the trouble. Stop him from wasting his time on apologies over things he had no control over.

“You do?” The hope in his eyes gives you the energy to continue.

“Yes. You just see me as a friend, you want to let me down slowly, yada yada yada. It's... fine.” It wasn't. You were a liar. A snake.

His eyes widened a little, surprised that you seemed to know what was coming. "No-" But you cut him off before he could finish, waving a hand to dismiss him in a way that you hoped came off cool and unbothered rather than bitter and angry. You couldn't be bitter. Not with him.

“It's fine. Seriously.” You were dying inside. Slowly. Painfully.

He just stood there for another moment, looking you up and down, trying to tell what was truly going on in your head. Then, he decided to take a chance, to throw the line out, and see what he could catch. "It is?" He took a step closer to you.

“Sure. All good.” Snake. Liar. Hypocrite.

He took another step, now he was standing less than a foot away from you. You could feel the body heat radiating off of him, the smell of his soap, mixed with leather and parchment and some distinctly earthy, distinctly him smell, invading your senses like a familiar addiction. But Remus was worse than drugs. You felt yourself standing, your legs moving you without consent. You refused to feel any smaller than you already were.

He was still looking down at you, however, which lessened the effect dramatically. He closed the remaining space between you two and gently touched the underside of your chin with one finger, applying light pressure, attempting to get you to meet his eyes.

He was too hot for his own good. Screw his parents, honest.

“Jesus, Remus, do you mind?” You complained before pulling away from his touch, in mortal combat with the demons telling you to lean into it.

He let his hand drop immediately, his face coloring a little. He was surprised by your response. He mumbled an apology and stepped back but something was nagging at him. That cool indifference you'd been attempting to project was crumbling, bit by bit. He could see the mask slipping, but he wouldn't say anything. Kind Remus. Sweet Remus. Fucking destroyer of hearts Remus.

“What do you want?”

He was silent for a few moments, just watching you, watching the way your arms wrapped around yourself, trying to keep him from seeing how bothered you were, from seeing that you were crumbling. Then he took a step forward again, grabbing your upper arms, gently, in an attempt to get you to look at him.

“Would you stop touching?”

He did, quickly retracting his hands as if he had been scalded. There was another long beat of silence between the two of you, and he was beginning to get fed up with his own ineloquence. That wasn't something he got frustrated with very often. He muttered a string of obscenities quietly, then sighed heavily and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm sorry.”

“It's not your fault,” you reassured. And it wasn't. Not fully. Curse him anyways, though. Solely for spite.

He didn't want to be frustrated with you—he was just frustrated with himself right now.

"Yeah? Whose is it then?" That came out more harshly than he'd intended, and he grimaced slightly. "I like you, okay? I do. Really. But we... can't.”

Pause. What?

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

He was fidgeting nervously with his hands. He hardly ever fidgeted. His expression when he finally met your gaze was pained, there was something unreadable in his eyes. Then an aggrieved bark of a laugh escaped his throat and he muttered something under his breath. You could see the conflict happening behind his eyes. Whatever was going on in his head, it was causing his usually composed demeanor to start to crack. He was running his right hand through his hair again, making it messier than he usually looked even slept in. It was clear the words 'we can't' were killing him, making him want to scream. And you couldn't begin to understand why.

“What do you mean, Remus?”

His eyes searched your face. His gaze was intense, and you felt suddenly like he could see your heart and soul, like he could see how badly you were bleeding internally. "It's not..." He swallowed and ran his hand through his hair again, trying to find the words. "We aren't... a good idea.”

“Why?”

He shook his head slightly, frustration evident on his face. This was one of the very few things he didn't quite know how to put into words. "Because." It was a pitiful response, and he knew it, but that's what was coming out at the moment.

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

He closed his eyes and cursed himself silently for his lack of rhetoric. He thought, then he looked at you, then away, then back again. "You don't understand. You're better than me."He sounded almost angry now. Not at you, though; he was mad at himself.

“How?” You questioned, knowing damn well Remus may have been the purest soul to exist on planet earth since Princess Diana of Wales.

He looked down at you, and his expression was almost incredulous. How could you not see it? "You're brilliant, and smart, and... and beautiful..." His voice was quieter now, like he was almost unwilling to admit something. "You could have anyone you wanted. Anyone. You're a Zabini, for fuck's sake.”

“I never said I wanted 'anyone', Remus, I want you.”

The words hit him in the gut, and he felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. He'd been hoping that you would say anything but that. He was almost glad you weren't making explicit eye contact, because he knew without a doubt his expression would give everything away. It was ripping through him that he couldn't tell you how much he wanted you back, how badly he wanted to take you up in his arms and kiss you, have you as his and tell the rest of the world to piss off.

"Please..." His voice sounded strangled now. He took one of your hands without even realizing it, gripping it tightly, like a lifeline. "Don't say that. Don't do this to me, please.”

“Why aren't you trying?”

He squeezed your hand again, and his eyes looked almost pained as he looked down at you. He was struggling to keep his own emotions in check, struggling to make you understand. Because he wanted to try. Of course he did. He'd wanted to since the moment he'd first laid eyes on you. "Because I'm no good for you, don't you get it? I'm no good for you.”

“And I'm telling you that you are,” you persisted.

He looked down at you, and he wanted to grab you and shake you until you saw sense. He wanted to hug you and hold you so tight that he'd have to peel you off later. He wanted to kiss you, over and over and over again, until the words stopped coming out of your mouth. He wanted to do a lot of things, but he settled on gripping your hand tighter. "I'm damaged.”

“Then I'll fix you,” you replied without hesitation.

He was looking at you with the most heartbreaking expression, something that was equal parts pain, frustration and desperation. He leaned forward, closing the space he'd previously gained, and his free hand came up to hold one of your upper arms gently, but his touch was needy, like he was trying to keep you close. His voice was a mere whisper now, and he looked conflicted and pained.

"No one can fix me.”

“I can try.” You had him. Partially. Almost. Nearly. You weren't giving up over some stupid lie he told himself.

He closed his eyes, and a low groan escaped his lips. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He wasn't being cruel—he knew that you couldn't know. But hearing you say it was driving him mad. His grip on your arm and hand tightened, and he was so very tempted to gather you up into his arms and hold you against him.

“Then tell me.”

He laughed bitterly, the harsh sound cutting through the silence of the library, a sound that wasn't Remus. At all. "That's what you want? You want all my dark and dirty secrets? All my scars? You want everything?”

“I want all of you," you shot back.

He made a strangled sort of sound, like someone was squeezing the air from his lungs. There was a beat of silence between the two of you before he finally opened his eyes again, his gaze was intense and focused on you.

"Even the bad parts? Even the parts that are messed up and broken and twisted and wrong?”

“I'll put them back together," you vowed.

His expression broke again, and he was so very close to you now. Almost chest to chest, and he was gripping you tight like you might be pulled away from him at any moment. "You're in over your head.”

“Then pull me out.”

He was starting to crack. Every time you said anything, and he wanted to give in. He wanted you so bad it was physically painful, and the fact that you were here, this close to him, and his, and you were offering yourself to him… That last string of his self-control was beginning to fray, and his eyes were beginning to darken with an emotion he was struggling to hide. "You wouldn't like what you find.”

“Try me.”

And there went that last, fraying string. His expression darkened and he suddenly pulled you towards him, hard, and you slammed against his chest. His arms wrapped around you in a way that could almost be described as desperate, and one of his hands splayed across your lower back, pulling you closer in a way that was very nearly dominating. He was so close to you that you were almost drowning in him. Everything was him, his voice, his hands, his smell, his body, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him as he leaned closer and lightly brushed his lips with yours.

"Last chance." He spoke against your lips, his voice dark and rough with desire. His hand on your back was gripping you even harder, his body pressed even tighter against yours. His other hand was gripping your chin now, forcing you to look up at him as he looked down at you with the most intense expression you'd ever seen on his face.

“I'm not going anywh-” He didn't let you finish your sentence, opting instead to lean down and capture your lips in a searing kiss. It was rough, the way he kissed you, and the hand that was on your chin moved to grip the back of your head, tilting it back a little and giving him better access to your mouth. He let out a low, needy moan against your lips that did something very bad, and very unladylike to your insides.

The kiss got more aggressive as he pushed you back against the bookshelf, and his other hand was now gripping your hip, his thumb tracing small and teasing circles just under the hem of your shirt. He made another one of those low, needy sort of sounds against your lips, and the sound was almost your undoing. A book falls down as his palm hits one of the shelves, aimed straight for your head, and he catches it without breaking the kiss and tosses it to the side.

The hand on your hip sneaks under the hem of your shirt, fingertips brushing against bare skin, and your body feels like he's electrocuted every single nerve ending. His own body is pressing you hard against the bookshelf behind you, and he has a knee between your legs, almost pinning you, and you let out a pathetic and small cry when his knee rubs up against where you need him the most.

He moans softly against your lips, feeling you shudder against him as he shifts, keeping his knee pressed between your legs. He's using his body to pin you against the bookshelf, both of you pressed so tightly together you're not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

“Remus?”

He paused in his ministrations—he'd been kissing and biting his way down your neck, but he pulled back just a fraction to answer you. His voice was low, rough and breathless right next to your ear. He only hummed in response.

“We really shouldn't be doing this in the library.”

He didn't pull away from you, instead, another one of those low, needy sort of moans escaped his lips, and he used his body to push you back against the bookshelf again, just a little bit harder. His hands were still on you, one of them under your shirt now, and he started to slowly run it up the flat expanse of your stomach, fingertips tracing small circles and patterns. "I know. I don't care.”

“I care. I'd rather not get banned.”

His nose is lightly tracing across the space where your shoulder meets your neck, his lips following the same path, leaving a trail of small kisses along the skin that send a shiver through your body. He murmurs against your skin. "Why? You seem to enjoy having me pressed against you." His knee presses up a little more, emphasizing his point.

You arch slightly on instinct, and berate your body mentally for the slip up.

“Remus, you can kiss me for awhile here, or fuck me in your dorm.” Ultimatums were always a real crowd pleaser.

He made another one of those low, needy sounds at that, and his breath is hot against your skin, sending another shiver through you as he starts to kiss his way back up your neck, towards your ear, until finally he whispers, right against the shell of your ear.

"My dorm.”

#remus lupin #remus x reader #remus angst #happy ending #marauders era #kisses #miscommunication #insecure!remus #remus lupin headcanon #new writers on tumblr #writeblr

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ihopeinevergetsoberr · 14 hours ago

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playing with this bow (and arrow)

— chapter 4

author’s note: i’m sorry in advance. that’s it. i don’t have much to say for myself.

warnings: lots of shouting and arguing. lots of fainting, too. you know where this is going, don’t you?

word count: 3.1k. jagged, but it gets my point across. —

Narcoleptics wear their skin over drowsy muscle. That’s how one explains cataplexy in a roundabout, layman’s way—and it gets the job done, slices thick skulls more efficiently than ʼa transient episode of muscle weakness occurring while the mind remains fully conscious’ ever could.

Cataplexy is a mean girl. It feeds off your tears and strikes, portentous, in that accumulated, to-the-marrow manner—legs, or hands, or neck—whatever she prefers. Yours liked to blow below the belt—literally. Knees first. Then calves. Restating everything not numb, but airy—like cotton that tumbles into an amorphous chunk once wet.

Yours was cunning. Thuggish, rarely mild. Sure, there was an occasional bout every three laughters or so. A weird, scabrous paralysis every time you struggled to stomp a foot in anger. Even post orgasmic ones were lenient. They called for a shrewd, breathy jab of, ‘Look, you made my legs go numb’, and ruptured, sweetly, through Viktor’s stomach in spurty wobbles of taut skin up to the lonesome rib sticking from under the strap of his brace.

Now, the unlovely ones made you topple. Convex surfaces were a favorite—sod’s law loves a good scraped cheek. After years of falling asleep mid-sentence and stiffening after a good cry, you knew exactly what floors taste like (tarmac is gravelly and strangely salty, linoleum is chemically oily, parquet tangs of cheap rosin, elevator vinyls stench of tires if you’re lucky or of human waste if sod’s law doubles down), how many splinters to expect in your cheeks post foible depending on the altitude of your fall, and what unwieldy position to take mid-tumble while your legs are still somewhat compliant.

The tongue remained unaffected. A bit slurred, it kept running coherently enough to wheeze, “I have cataplexy. I’ll be fine in a few minutes” for every good Samaritan volunteering to call you an ambulance. Though you’d much rather be rendered mute instead. Jayce says you could benefit from having your words confined every now and again.

He phoned you Monday. Probed you out of bed with three persistent rings and sat grinning while you shuffled out of the sheets, wishing there was a way to transfer spit through a receiver. That could benefit all kinds of phone calls.

“What do you want, Jayce?”

He weaved the cord around a thick finger and tugged at it, dreamily—no doubt leaned back in his disaster of a couch.

“How do you know it’s me?” A friendly flirtation. It bounces right back when you squeeze the mouthpiece between ear and shoulder, picturing, no, hoping there’s a minuscule version of him getting crushed inside one of the forty holes emitting crispy static.

“Who else could possibly call me at nine in the morning to confirm an evening appointment?”

“Oh. Of course. Should’ve known better. So I take it, you're coming?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He snorted. “I don’t like that answer. Let me guess: you broke the curfew. Or was it sleep deprivation again? Which is it?”

“I’m narcoleptic, you idiot. My sleep deprivation is not always intentional.”

“You’re deflecting. Curfew it is.”

You raked a hand through sleep-slicked hair and yanked, untenderly, at the pieces tickling into your palm. Your neck tumbled, grotesquely, with a wet, drowsy crack, and your eyes tipped along to crawl, reluctantly, from the jaundiced curtains to the damasks on the carpet: up, down, to and fro, over, out, and, finally, to your toenails painted chipped rotten plum.

Such acts of puppetry made you feel in control. Manually leading one’s gaze is better than letting the eyes roam freely. That way, the puppeteer may regulate what exactly he wants to see.

You did this every time you couldn’t look away from a car crash. Or scoped the room maniacally while looking for a shrewd answer. Better to grab yourself by the scruff and line your stare with something homely. Shoes, socks, and toes were a frequent landscape. They were the most comforting. Almost grounding, cataplectic episodes included.

You reached for your journal to put the thought down. Jayce coughed into the receiver and pulled the cord tenser.

“I’m not mad at you. Just come. You know I’m never mad about the curfew.”

“It’s not about that. I don’t know if I can come.”

“Don’t know if you can or if you want to?”

“My legs keep going numb a lot lately.”

“Take a cab.”

“Will you pay for it?”

“You make enough.”

“And I spend too much of it on you.”

“Just come, Knirsch. You get to complain about your husband today. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Not in the least.”

You reached for the billowing flake of polish on your big toe. The thing budged with hushed brittleness, and off you peeled it—down to the very cuticle. Now the nail looked silly—only half-painted, nakedly shiny. You bent for another peel, but the mouthpiece swore at you, derisive, in Jayce’s most impatient voice.

“Stop picking at your nails. Are you coming or not?”

“How do you—“

“That’s all you ever do. You either chew or peel or chew what you’ve peeled off. You’re going to end up with pinworms. Is that it? Do you fancy a new ailment?”

“Fine. I’m coming.”

“Good. See you at six?”

“I’d rather not, but alas. See you at six.” And with that, you yanked off the remaining polish in a wide, delicious stripe.

—

It was a little past ten when you properly got out of bed—late enough to shut the windows so the screeching of air brakes wouldn’t lure its way into the room. You stood on your tiptoes, in a haunched stance, having caught a whiff of murky air reeking of hydrocarbons. Moravia is merciless in the mornings. Loutish, packed, and humming, it rewires you in a way that yearns for errands, even if you don’t have any to run. Even if you’d rather stand there, watching yellow trams spew out dozens of motley people—a burp of color in the beige, dusty tapestry of Brno, a burst of liveliness, untamed, shouting rainbow fuck yous at much too Austrian buildings.

You turned to the piano stool. Still draped over the cushion, Viktor’s shirt billowed a bland fuck you of its own, only it wasn’t shouting but whispering a rhotic ‘Trhni si’ nine times back to back for each bump of plastic buttons against your nails. And trhni you did. Instantly so. You crawled back to bed, pushed your face into the linen collar, and complied the curse with your legs apart—ribs like taut sails ready to burst open.

The first errand of the day was done.

Ever since Viktor left, masturbation had become mechanical. Almost rigid. All traces of sex had been stripped off the act—brutally, in a harsh, heavy swipe of your fingers. In the mornings, you touched yourself not to touch the cello. At night, you did it to cause muscle weakness, hoping the drowsiness would branch out into your brain to finally knock you out. Ardently, you’d rub yourself so raw the skin would peel apart. No half-measures, only sore clit and remnants of spit from the other day drying on swollen labia. Catching in your underwear and bleeding through the lace to the point of having to ditch it. And yet, you still bled—through tan tights, tartan skirts, and, sometimes, even zippers.

Bringing that up with Jayce felt shameful. You could barely talk about Viktor as is, and arming the shrink with your great sexual resentment, in the grand scheme of things, was, frankly, frightening.

As if to spite you, everything was fuming of sex. The television. The magazines, and not just porn ones. Even the streets no longer waited until night to advise parental guidance: now they were turning R-rated before noon. Though, in hindsight, the parents were too busy getting it on themselves to offer their supervision. Just last Friday, you watched a middle-aged couple tongue-fuck in the audience. To Paganini, no less. The man would be proud.

But this resentment, this erotic, flimsy deficit wasn’t purely physical. It was a cry for help—meaty, preposterous, tachycardic. It ached for whatever came post coitus just as much as it ached to be thrust into. You missed the humor of it. The devoted act of accepting a cool drink from a loving hand. The smell that it ignites—stuffy, cloying. Leaning out of ajar windows on a goosefleshed buttock and tangling, silkily, into robes, sheets, and bodies.

You yearned to be made love to. And there’s no word—not in Czech, nor, god forbid, in English—to admit to that.

With a heavy head, you’d emerged from the bed for the third time. Brno kept on screeching, unredeemably, with its humming electricity and rush hour fumes, threatening its way into the room lest you go for another breath of anything-but-fresh air. But you cared for the glass confine no more. You craved to pry it open. To put on something flirtacious—say, Piazzola or early Bloch. To light a purely artistic cigarette (invariably Petra, the brand must contribute to the imagery), and let the world devour you in the splendor of your loose, silky nightgown—a contentious vengeance for something self-inflicted and obtuse. It is a motto. A performance. A farcical thing that only you deemed martyrial. Perceive me. Canonise me. Pity the husband who left me for being too pretentious, too maniacally meticulous for his gentle tastes. I am grieving a love that keeps on slipping through my calloused fingers, and I yearn with my bow in my hand, sensual, and pompous, and so inexplicably conceptual—

And when you bowed outside, impetuous, with your spine arched comically porn mag-like, the bustling city wasn’t there to regard you. The trams with their colorful puke of scurrying humans had receded into a kaleidoscopic backdrop, and mushed, ungracefully, into something liquid and tasteless. Like molten Soviet candy forced down your throat in a lump too big to swallow. Like ozone, much too sweetened. Like every other disgustingly sugary thing had collided its gooey powers to caramelize you in place: nailbeds deep in the windowsill and sleazy with startled spit, threatening to pour outside in a guttural gag.

The first thing you notice is his unironed suit. He always travels in his suits—says that one shouldn’t toss them into the suitcase and sits through his flights uncomfortably upright, yet professional. His hair seems to have grown out again: he’s struggling to return the stare from beneath the tousles catching in his lashes. Only one sad iris is peeking through. Good, you think. Two would send you crushing your head on the pavement. His tie is missing: a precaution to escape an attempt at strangling in case you bear such a notion. A fruitless one, to your mind. Your fossilised fingers couldn’t do it even if they really had to.

It paints you so piteous. Terrifyingly aroused, even. Here he is—looking up at you like a bashful flunkie does at a cruel professor, with his neck shrinking painfully into stringy shoulders. He’s chewing on the corner of his mouth in a way that is so shamelessly stolen from you, but it quickly gets lost in his askance, dirty fix. Just so, you first witness what Viktor looks like when he’s not yours. And oh, do you wish to have stayed virginal to that endeavour.

Habitually, your knees give out first. You watch them fold, angular, toppling like a broken switchblade in their wonted dizziness. But it doesn’t come as a quiver, nor a visceral, ugly churn. It simply ceases and takes you with—to the dusty parquet and its hard, wooden blow.

En masse, the fall must’ve been compelling. You slid off the ledge senselessly, with a graceful, taciturn swish: no shouting, not even an agape mouth wincing in a whimper. Merely a plunge—stupefied, doll-like. As if someone very inconsiderate had sat you on the shelf far too lopsided. Now you can only hope your plastic spine isn’t fractured.

You peel your eyes, blinking away cloudy floaters. Outside, Viktor had gasped on your behalf—so much for completing the progression of a collapse. Pondering the ceiling, you listen to him struggle up the stairwell. He sounds tired—shoes scruffing idly, cane not a click, but rather a strangled shuffle. You manage to count thirty limp thumps before his key shimmies somewhere in the entryway. When the jingling stops, more steps are added to your tally, totalling a timid forty-two. That’s what you’ll be in twelve years if you don’t break your neck during one of these cataplectic bouts.

Slowly, you turn your head towards him. Your muscles refuse to budge, moving as if wind-up, but you make it, and find him looking back twice as glassy: first at you, then at his piano, and, finally, at his crumpled shirt burrowed into the sheets. The last scenery has him humming.

“Were you sleeping with my shirt?” He asks. Walks further into the room and bounces off the unmade bed, dropping his wary head into spread fingers.

“Yes,” you gulp. “Idiomatically.”

He snorts at that. Dabbles in a disjointed laugh that sounds more like a hoarse sob, shimmies out of his blazer, and unclasps a weirdly still watch—the battery must’ve finally died from counting his deserted, celibate seconds. Maybe those take more voltage to add up. “That’s endearing,” he mumbles as the unreturned chuckle desists. “Why didn’t I think of that?” “Of what?”

“Taking something of yours for… self-indulgence.”

“It’s only right that you didn’t. One doesn’t run away from his wife to reclusively fuck her underwear instead.”

“I don’t think it’s the underwear that I would have chosen. A picture would be the most fitting.”

Your tongue slips to your bottom lip, tasting a chapped smile. “Which one?”

Viktor shrugs. “Something risque, of course.”

“Hm. I thought you’d like one of me vomiting all over the floor the day you left.”

“Don’t,” he warns. Shifts to the edge of the mattress and crooks his fingers in a cowardly stroke of your hair, as if charging to flinch lest you try to bite his hand off. But you don’t bother, and his thumb slides to rest on your temple—a bit late to wipe a tear rolling into your ear. You wince once it gets stuck in the wax.

“It’s funny,” you mumble. “This cycle of you looking down at me every time you leave and come back.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help it. I happen to be a bit taller.”

“And I keep doubling down. Last time, I was on my knees. Now I’m glowering.”

“Was it sadness or fear this time?”

“Frustration. Sexual. And then some.”

“Oh. Are you angry with me?”

“Furious.”

“Of course. Are you hurt?”

“Very. Where have you been, Viktor?”

“Austria. Then Croatia. France. Belgium. Germany. England at last. The usual.”

“Your tour takes a month. You were away for two.” “I decided to stay in London for a while.” “Hm. The hotel couldn’t have been that nice.” “It was quite decent, actually. I’m afraid I’ve squandered my honorarium on room service. Will you forgive me?”

“You could’ve called, you know.”

“That defeats the purpose of having a separation.”

Your right leg regains its movement. With a hiss, you uncoil it through a prickly fit, and you both watch the muscle go taut in a spasm—clenching, unclenching, sending blood into bluened toes.

Viktor’s teaser of a touch fumbles, unregarded. He opts your hair for his. Finger-combs his nape in the very place that desperately needs shearing through. He opens his mouth to offer you the honors, but bites his tongue as soon as it dawns on him, inane: he probably shouldn’t trust you with a blade so close to his neck while your hands are too shaky to be propped on. The offer gets swallowed. Hungry for something—anything—his gastric acid dissolves it right away, rumbling to make itself known. And it’s a demand to be catered to—forthwith.

But you’re in no mood for breakfast. Not unless it’s his severed head served up on a silver platter.

“How could you do this to me—” You mutter. With contempt, of course. And a great effort to sit up. Now that you’re face to face, he can grasp exactly what he’s done to you, every gory detail included. The chewed-on lips, raw and glinting (he should see the lower ones, too). The bloodshot eyes—not a single unscathed capillary. And the way he shrinks further—from it, from you—only riles you into something frenzied. You don’t stutter. You don’t flinch, either. There’s only fury—verbal. Maiming, unforgone. And when you start your performative, all-fours crawl—he knows that he shouldn’t close his eyes. He knows, yet does so anyway, biting his cheek while he’s at it.

“Oh. Oh no, honey.” Your breath tickles his knee—warm, belligerent. “You don’t get to do this to me and look away. Keep your eyes peeled.”

“Please, stop this,” he implores, in a whisper. “Please, let’s just—”

“You left me. With no explanation. With no inkling when to expect you back.”

“I needed it!” Viktor shouts. His spit lands on your nose—audacious, as if sizzling. “I told you this would happen! I begged you, time and time again, to please seek help. You—” He leaps off the bed, holding onto his cane with bloodless knuckles. “Your negligence—of your health, of our marriage—was suffocating me. And I wish this were a mere figure of speech. My lungs haven’t felt normal in years.” “Oh, poor you!” You snorted, throwing your arms in the air. “Why didn’t you come to me with this? Why did you—” The snort turned into a sniff, then into a full-blown whimper. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?” “You didn’t ask!”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?”

“Yes!” He cried. “Yes. Exactly!”

A piece of snout had plopped onto your nightgown, shrivelling into sticky crust. It made you laugh—grating, visceral. A scary sound that had struck Viktor right in the sternum. It had him grabbing onto his heart in sheer fright—like he was trying to shove it back into his ribcage. But his pulse was faster. By a massive landslide.

You’ve seen people go pale before. Some of them mellowed gradually: first their hands, then their neck, and, finally, their face—a very logical sequence. Some were waning instantly, as a body. But this—the drawn-out sigh, the hand-to-chest clasp, the protein-colored stare—ghastly, mortifying—was annihilating in its novelty. He’d simply lost his opaqueness. Blended with the wall. Shedded his signature angles, his contours.

And then, he dropped the cane to pick up the baton—took up the fainting relay. Only his collapse wasn’t commonplace and fleeting. He dropped, like a casualty in a period piece, jerking his head like it had been shot at. And when you’d shouted—”Viktor? Zlatíčko? Viktor!”—the jerk didn’t repeat to regard the call.

In the middle of your bedroom, with a face the color of what you imagined rigor mortis looks like, lay your estranged husband—breathing, but unresponsive.

Jayce will have to let a missed appointment slide for once.

#viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor fanfic #viktor x reader smut #viktor x reader angst #viktor x f!reader #arcane fanfic #playing with this bow (and arrow)#no aftercare sorry #no beta too

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cryingatwindermerepeaks · 2 days ago

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Little!Jackie x Cg!Nat - Hospital

For @wiserteriaoverbarefeet , hope they let you out soon <3 and hope you enjoy this little ficlet and also silly pictures of Jax to cheer you up!

-> little!jackie, cg!nat, hospital, sick fic, post-rescue au

Word count: 522

What had started out as a very small, very manageable cold which Nat had promised would go away soon, had ended up with Jackie in a hospital bed surrounded by so many beeps and buzzes she thought her head would explode. It was awful. Jackie missed her bed, she missed her toys, she just wanted to go home. Nat was here, at least, rubbing Jackie’s shoulders and praising her every time she took her medication.

“You’re being so brave,” Nat cooed as the doctor who had just been checking over Jackie left the room. She whined, turning her head to face Nat and trying really hard to ignore how it made her brain feel like it was trying to crack through her skull. Nat traced a gentle hand along Jackie’s hairline. “Poor girl,” Nat sighed. It hurt more than anything to see her baby in so much pain and know there wasn’t really anything she could do. She pulled out Jackie’s pacifier from her pocket where they’d hidden it while the doctor came in and offered it to her. Jackie had been small most of the time she was in hospital. The only saving grace had been that the doctors assumed Jackie was just not feeling great because she was sick and let Nat talk for her most of the time. Jackie took her pacifier gratefully, glad for the little price of comfort.

“Up here, mama?” Jackie requested drowsily, holding out her hand for Nat. “Cuddles?”

Nat smiled softly, “of course Duckie.” She gently pulled herself up onto the hospital bed - careful not to jostle Jackie too much or bump any of the wires connecting her to monitors. It was cramped so Jackie had to lay almost entirely on top of Nat but she didn’t seem to mind, finding the contact to be one of the only pieces of normalcy in this whole place. Jackie fiddled with her pacifier in her hand, deep in thought. “Something on your mind?”

Jackie nodded slightly, tears growing in her sleepy little eyes. “I want to go home, Mama,” she mumbled sadly.

Nat’s heart just about broke, all she wanted was to be able to take Jackie home and give her a bath and tuck her into bed. “I know baby…” she sighed, rubbing Jackie’s back gently. “Home soon, I promise.” Jackie sniffled, she wished she could believe that but it was starting to feel like she’d be stuck here forever. “How about a little nap. Tai and Van are going to bring your jelly soon, then you’ll feel better.” This at least got a soft smile from Jackie, who HATED the hospital jelly they kept trying to give her. She’d get excited every time and then realise that the kind they had was grainy and lime flavoured and gross. So after some heckling with the doctors, Nat had been allowed to ask Tai and Van to bring them some strawberry flavoured jelly.

“Be here when I wake up?” Jackie asked, looking up at Nat with eyes filled with worry as if Nat had ever left her side before.

“Of course baby, Mama isn’t going anywhere.”

#sfw agere #fandom agere #age regression #yellowjackets agere #yellowjackets age regression #little!jackie taylor #cg!nat scatorccio

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mercurial-chuckles · 17 hours ago

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Permanence

Part 02: Distressing Transience

Pairing: Steve Rogers x F!Reader x Bucky Barnes | Stucky x F!Reader Warnings: Fluff | Angst | Angry & Grumpy Bucky | Mutual Pining | Eventual Poly Relationship | Eventual Smut Galore | Eventual Fluff Galore | ~3k | Canon Divergent | Nightmare | Bucky's Hydra-Related Trauma | Happy Ending (it's me!) Kept the warnings basic 'coz I don't wanna reveal too much. If angsty or mature content affects you, please refrain from reading | Unbeta'd | Lemme know if I'm missing anything! A/N: I'm excited for the great reveal in this. 🥰 This is based on a request. The OC version of this story will run in parallel, but since I got quite a few requests for a reader version, here it goes! Hope you enjoy! ✨ Take a moment to reblog or share your thoughts--it makes all the difference in the world. Note: Do not Steal, Copy, or Plagiarize any part of my work! Banner and Divider made by me in Canva. Picture credits to the internet! Thank you :) Check out my other works: Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Indulge Away!

Skovheim, Norway, 2011

It was bitterly cold. You draped the throw blanket from the couch, hoping to keep yourself warm.

You hated the cold. It reminded you of terrible times. Times of loss.

You'd pushed those thoughts away and went to check on the cake. Plum. Bucky's absolute favorite. You set the cake on the tray to let it cool.

Outside, the birch tree branches rattled on the kitchen window. The wind seemed to picked up. It had been raining since morning, which was rare for this time of year.

The tiny clock over the small island in the kitchen ticked past seven.

Bucky was never late.

Fear mounted you by the second. You turned off the light in kitchen to get a glimpse down the winding road. It was too hard to get a view through the fogged up window. The heavy rain blurred everything outside, but that was your only view. The sensors had stopped working and needed to be replaced. Bucky had installed several of them, starting from the point where the hidden road to your isolated home began, down at the base of the hill.

The cottage was located up the steep hill, hidden by luscious trees, with a patch of birch trees between the thick coverage. It was beautiful, to say the least, but most importantly, it was strategic. One side was shielded by the edge of the cliff, which overlooked the sea, and there was only one way of entry and no residences nearby.

You told yourself the roads were probably flooded--or maybe there were fallen trees. Bucky was a supersoldier; moving a tree or two would be nothing for him. Still, unease coiled tight in your chest. You could sense him, just like you had always known he was alive--even back when the world grieved Sgt. Barnes' heroic death in World War II. You knew Bucky was alive.

But you worried.

You were, after all, more human. Moments like this made you wish you had the power to teleport.

You didn't want him to go in the first place, but you were running low on groceries, and Bucky was fretting about replacing the sensors in the security system. Usually, night was a safer time to avoid interaction with the townsfolk. Also, Arne, your trusted contact, was to meet with Bucky in the town to deliver the equipment, monitors, transponders, sensors, and a few others. You hated that you couldn't convince Bucky to let you join. James Buchanan Barnes was a stubborn man, alright.

When you heard a distant rumble, you were unsure if it was just the whether; you could barely make the lights--one brighter than the other--of the pickup truck in the foggy downpour.

You ran and waited by the door. Your nerves wouldn't settle until you saw him. Standing by the door, you chanted, 'Come on. Come on.'

After a few minutes, you heard the shuffling behind the door. Then came the muffled creak of the floor. A groan behind the door frame made you freeze.

Silence.

You waited.

Then, two knocks. Two seconds apart.

Your body moved before you could breathe in relief, hand on the knob, waiting. He'd drilled it into your head: Never open unless you hear the knock.

You unlatched the door and let it swing open against the push of the wind.

Bucky stepped inside, closing the door behind him, with more force than necessary. Water dripped from the hem of his jacket, pooling on the wooden floor. The cap was soaked, plastered to his head, shadowing his eyes.

He didn't greet you with the usual, 'I'm here, I'm okay.' in that gentle tone like he usually assured you every time he returned.

You searched his eyes, worry wrecking your gut.

"I'm fine," Bucky muttered after a few seconds, eyes flicking to your face.

You let out a sigh of relief. He seemed off but you didn't think much about it, more worried that he was soaked to the bones.

"You're drenched," you said.

"It's pouring," he offered with a faint, bitter chuckle, trying to toe off his boots, but they were sloppy wet, squelching with the slightest movement.

"You don't say," you chuckled, crouching down to help him tug the boot off.

"I got it," he hissed sharply.

You stilled immediately, retrieving your hand and standing up. Bucky rarely got this way. After escaping from the clutches of Hydra, touch bothered him, but that was years ago. He never shied away from your touch. However, it seemed like he was past that. Now, your mind was back to worrying.

"Are you okay?" You asked softly. Bucky visibly stiffened. Your focus shifted to his right palm, fisted tightly around the box in his hand. Bucky seemed to notice you glance because he loosened his grip.

He carefully placed the plastic wrapped carton beside the door, along with two other bags, wordlessly.

You dragged the old chair from the dining table, the legs scraping softly across the wood. He lowered himself into the chair, broad shoulders hunched, clothes clinging to his body and accentuating his form. Bucky didn't meet your eyes, removing his shoes, almost tearing them off his feet.

Reaching for his cap, you gently tugged it off his head. He finally looked at you, and you were pretty sure he looked miffed.

"You'll get sick," you mumbled. You just needed to hug him.

"I don't get sick," he quipped.

You tutted, his mood firing up your frustration further, but you knew nothing would yield when he was in a mood.

You'd have to wait to ask questions later, once he showered and ate.

You'd have to wait for that hug.

"Hang up your things. I'll make you some tea. Don't take long in the shower," you said.

The stiffness in his shoulder became evident when he walked to the bathroom at the far end of the living room. That shoulder must be acting up again. You wondered if he'd let you ease the pain in peace or if you'd have to coax him into it. The cold always made it worse.

Gosh! You hated the cold!

By the time Bucky returned from the shower and changed into his joggers and Henley, you had mopped the floor and unpacked the groceries from the waterproof bags.

His hair was still wet, droplets falling. It was fricking cold, and this man didn't flinch. It bothered you how blatantly reckless he was with his health.

It bothered you how much he affected you, all while looking infuriatingly gorgeous. You'd rather not delve into those waters. It was a dangerous realm.

So, you ignored the trickling water droplets down the expanse of his neck and internally berated yourself. You handed him the cup of tea and turned to fetch a dry towel.

Bucky's gaze followed you when you walked to get another dry towel. You noticed him eyeing the cake when you returned.

"You're not getting a single piece unless you dry your hair right now," you said pointedly, pushing the towel toward him.

"Is that so," he sniggered, looking down at you. You caught the sly twitch of his pink lips before he turned to sit on the couch.

Bucky wasn't the man you remembered from the 40s--the playful, flirty, sassy, nerdy boy from Brooklyn. Hydra had changed him immensely so. It had been almost a decade since he escaped their clutches, a decade since you found him. He was healing slowly but surely. You'd like to believe that. You'd been through a lot, collectively as well as individually. So, the little glimpses of the lost man always rejoiced you. Eventually, he'd get there. He had to.

"Stop it, you'll hurt your neck," you chastised when you noticed him vigorously moving his head against the towel. You pulled the towel from his grasp, at least tried. Initially, Bucky didn't budge but he reluctantly let go. You smiled, victorious, as he slumped into the couch and sighed, letting you gently towel off his hair.

You knew he hadn't slept well last night. He'd nearly finished reading the book he had started--you'd noticed the bookmark in the morning.

Every time he had to go into the town, he got tense. Bucky wouldn't tell you, but you knew it. You'd been living and navigating through this life for a few years now. Though you were grateful he'd come a long way, Bucky still had a long winding road ahead to fully heal.

"That's how you do it, Sergeant Barnes," you jested, pulling his hair back into a small bun. He let out a satisfied hum, which made your stomach flip.

"Hand me that scrunchie."

He leaned over, tugging you gently along the couch as you held his hair together. That's when you noticed him flinching.

"Bucky?" You quickly tied his hair and moved around to sit beside him on the couch. You tried to reach for his hand, but he pulled away.

"Bucky," you prompted, this time pleading.

He sighed, pulling the sleeve of his right arm up over his veiny forearm, revealing a long gash of red and blue bruising that marred his skin. If his serum didn't already heal, it only meant the bruise was worse, to begin with.

"What happened?" You asked, worried and angry that he hadn't told you about it.

"It's nothing," he dismissed, "Got a flat, had to change the tire in the nasty weather. Hurt myself," he finished, already pulling away, but you held onto it with all your strength, fighting him. He didn't look guilty, unlike the other times when he hid his injuries or sufferings. He looked unapologetic.

"Bucky."

"I'm fine," he murmured.

"Shut up and stay put," You hissed, livid. This wasn't the first time, and you knew it wasn't going to be the last. Bucky loved to suffer, and he thought he was reaping all the consequences of his actions. You'd fight this war with him until you won despite losing the battles every now and then.

You cupped your palm over his bruise and closed your eyes, feeling the warmth emanate. You felt the faint, dizzying sensation. When you opened your eyes, the bruise faded, and the skin on his warm forearm looked normal, with no sign of the gash anymore.

Bucky's silence was telling, the sharp tick of the jaw and the crease between his brows, and you waited for a long moment, but he said nothing.

"What?" You asked, not being able to bear his silence anymore.

"Nothing." He bit out rather harshly.

"I can't see you hurt," those words hurtled before you could stop. In an attempt to belie your vulnerability--your love, you got up from there, hoping to fade your emotional turmoil. You blinked back the tears threatening to spill and made your way to the kitchen, willing your thoughts to quiet as you focused on heating up dinner.

"Bucky, dinner's ready," you called out, surprised to see him already near his bedroom door.

He paused, hand resting on the doorknob. "I'm not hungry," he remarked.

"I made your favorite cake," you added gently, trying to coax him. You hated it when he went without eating. He hadn't skipped a meal in a long time, not since the early days after escaping Hydra, when nausea haunted him daily. You knew too well that when the mind is in chaos, the appetite is usually the first thing to go.

"Not hungry," he repeated, more bitterly this time, before disappearing into his room and closing the door behind him.

You couldn't sleep--not until you knew he was. You'd gotten used to sleeping next to him. Just knowing he was there settled your nerves. You waited for hours, hoping to hear the gentle knock, the soft padding of footsteps, and the familiar 'Can I?'--a question that had become rhetorical over time. But he hadn't come.

You tried to read, but your focus kept slipping away. Feeling thirsty, you reached for your bottle, only to realize it was empty as you gave it a shake.

Ugh! You'd forgotten you'd downed the whole thing when you got hungry earlier in the night.

As you hopped off the bed, you talked yourself out of knocking on his door. But the moment you stepped into the living room, you heard him cry out.

With a sigh, you slid off the bed, quietly debating whether or not to knock on his door. You told yourself not to, and to wait for him to come to you when he was ready, even though you were sure something was wrong.

But the moment you stepped into the living room, a sound stopped you cold.

"NO. PLEASE. NO." Bucky was sobbing, groaning.

The bottle slipped from your hand as your heart leapt into your throat. You bolted for his room. The door was unlocked, thankfully. But he wasn't in bed.

You flicked on the table lamp. The soft light fell over his figure, curled on the floor, trembling.

"Buck. Hey, hey…it's okay," you said quickly, crouching beside him and reaching for his face.

"NO. Not you," he cried, grabbing your wrist in a panic.

"It was just a dream," you said, wiping his tear-streaked face.

He caught your hands and pressed your palms against his cheeks. Then he pulled you into his lap, arms tight around you.

"You're hurt," he gasped, frantic, inspecting your neck and arms, turning your hands over, searching.

"Bucky," you said gently, blinking your tears away.

"I'm alright. It was just a nightmare." You reminded.

His chest heaved, "I… I thought…" But the words broke off as he crushed you to him, sobbing into your shoulder. You held him just as tightly.

After a while, you whispered, "I'll get you some water." But he wouldn't let go.

"Okay. Okay… just lie down with me," you murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."

With you in his arms, he rose from the floor without so much as a flinch. You clung to him instinctively, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he carried you to the bed. You held on as he gently laid you down, then climbed in beside you, immediately curling himself around you. His fingers found yours, intertwining them softly.

"I got you, Bucky. Always," you whispered, feeling his tear-streaked face pressed against your temple. Your right palm settled over his heart, feeling it slowly begin to calm beneath your touch.

In an attempt to calm him, you talked about random things--from constellations to the book you'd been reading, which you thought was horrible, and why. He let out a throaty chuckle when you told him you should seriously reconsider the situation with Gollum, the alpine hare you both named, who visited your humble garden now and then and caused a ruckus.

Eventually, you convinced him to let you make some tea, and he followed you to the kitchen without a word.

"Buck…" you started, unsure.

You slid the mug toward him. He leaned onto the counter and slowly sipped. You studied him for a long moment and then asked softly, "What happened out there?" You were pretty sure something was bothering him.

He didn't answer immediately. Bucky took a few slow sips.

"I saw Hagen," Bucky said finally, eyes fully focused on you.

You stilled, staring at him wide-eyed as things clicked into place. The subtle hostility when he'd returned home that evening. The nightmare that followed. It all made sense now. You had chalked it all up to the rain--he was soaked through when he walked in. You should've guessed that his silence was more telling than his words. You didn't expect this though.

The odds of that encounter were next to none tonight. That was what you'd counted on.

Exactly five days ago, when Bucky made the trip to the city to place an order with Arne, the electronics guy, you'd ventured alone into town, breaking his most sacred rule--never go anywhere without me.

But you lived in a far corner of nowhere, surrounded by mountains and mist, and the town was safe even if Bucky thought otherwise.

Mr. and Mrs. Hagen, who owned the small bookstore you frequented, were kind people. That day, you'd noticed how worn Mr. Hagen looked. When you gently asked if he was okay, he told you Mrs. Hagen's health was failing. And when he asked if you wanted to see Mrs. Hagen, you agreed. Mrs. Hagen was a lovely lady. You and Bucky visited the store every now and then, hoarding books as you both enjoyed reading, and Mrs. Hagen often added a couple of books onto the pile for free. 'You can never have enough books.'

"He thinks it was a miracle," Bucky said flatly. "Said you visited," He bit out loud.

But you said nothing.

Bucky stared at you. His jaw tightened. "It fucking makes sense why you looked off that day. You know the price of using your gift."

"She was dying, Buck," you said quietly, looking away. "I couldn't walk away."

"And what about...you?" His voice dropped lower. "What happens when someone gets a whiff?" He gritted out.

You chanced a look at him. The shadow above him from the kitchen light cut sharp lines across his face, making him look like a sculpted god. Albeit an angry-looking god.

"She was suffering," you repeated, moving your gaze onto the foggy kitchen window, rain still pelting.

"That doesn't matter," he snapped. Bucky stepped forward, his right hand finding your elbow as he tugged you toward him. You didn't resist.

"Look at me." Bucky gritted out, frustration marring his features.

Your gaze rose slowly to meet his, guilty.

"What were you thinking?" he asked sharply. You could sense his pain.

"I was thinking she would've died."

"And I'm thinking I can't lose you too," he thundered, like the sky outside. His arm slipped around your back, his grip tightening as he pulled you closer.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to remind him that you were strong, more than human. That you'd lived in the harsh world alone for decades, that you went into the clutches of Hydra's lair to find him, that you weren't the one people should be afraid of. But your mother's words rang loudly in your head, 'Sweetheart, sometimes what makes you powerful is exactly what makes you vulnerable…hunted.'

Feeling utterly helpless, your shoulders dropped. You couldn't see people suffer. You carried a lot of regrets yourself. The fact that you didn't find Bucky soon enough after he fell off the train, the fact that you should've stopped Steve from getting the serum. If Steve hadn't, he would not have sacrificed his life. Those haunted you every damn day. So, what if you alleviated Mr. and Mrs. Hagen's suffering. It brought you peace.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, burying your face into his chest.

He sighed into your hair, kissing you tenderly.

"I need you to resist helping people," he pleaded.

"I don't know how Buck," you whispered, holding him tightly.

Bucky dreaded love more than he ever feared Hydra. While he mourned the love he had lost--Steve--he also mourned not being the kind of man you deserved.

The way you saved him persistently, and resurrected him after Hydra, with years and years of patience. It was beyond his understanding. Gosh! You could totally beat Steve when it came to being stubborn.

He watched you, relaxed in his arms, deep in sleep.

His Angel!

Sometimes, it was hard to believe that you were by his side. His fingers traced your cheek, and you leaned into his touch.

Bucky knew he was a selfish man because he'd never said he loved you out loud, afraid he'd cause an imbalance in the perfect ecosystem. Because he knew you loved him. And even if you never explicitly worded your love, you defined it in every little action. It pained him how deeply you loved him despite what he'd done.

In the late hours of the night, when he curled up beside you--nightmares as an excuse--he'd usually think of a better tomorrow. One where he'd repented the doings of a man in his mind who he'd been unwillingly sharing space with. Where he could love you the way you deserved. Where Steve was still alive, and you all lived in a world where freedom wouldn't be weighed by norms. But fate couldn't be that forgiving, right?

Bucky still hoped and prayed for forgiveness--for the actions he had unwittingly committed. He tried to be a better man every day.

Bucky was protective of you--territorial might befit. But the fact was, you protected him every day. From himself. From his nightmares. You were his salvation.

You shifted, turning more into his side, still deep asleep, slipping your hand around his waist. Bucky chuckled softly, clutching the oversized T-shirt on the little of your back, and pulled you closer.

God! You were divine. So far out of his league. Did you even know that?

He could literally kill for you. And he was close to committing that heinous act that very evening.

He'd gone to the bookstore to buy the book you'd been waiting for, only to overhear Hagen talking about you and 'miracle' in the same breath. The fear hit him instantly. For a moment, he stood frozen, staring at the wrinkled man. A sinister thought crawled into his mind: kill Hagen and his wife. Make it look like a robbery.

Then, Bucky thought of you and felt utterly disgusted with himself for even thinking of it. He wasn't that person, and he'd never be him again. He fled from there as fast as he could, terrified of himself.

He wondered if he could ever truly be the man you deserved. He highly doubted it. But the fact was, he couldn't let you go. He'd already lost Steve. He couldn't fathom losing you, too.

Bucky loved you. With every tiny, broken piece of himself--he loved you.

He moved closer, admiring your peaceful face and enveloping himself in your intoxicating scent.

You were so goddamn delicate. So mesmerizingly pretty. It was up to him to safeguard you.

You'd wake up in a few hours. You hadn't eaten because he hadn't. And he'd been a fucking prick all evening. You'd even baked him his favorite cake, but he'd been too cooped up in his head, too angry at you for being so reckless. Didn't you understand he couldn't live without you?

He'd make your favorite breakfast and apologize. Maybe you'd kiss him on the cheek like you had yesterday. That little kiss where you'd rise on your toes and tug him down gently always made him feel alive.

Bucky leaned in, and placed a small kiss on your forehead. Your scent enveloping him, a medicine to his wounded thoughts and shattered soul. In the confines of his mind, he whispered, 'I love you,' perhaps too loudly for your heart not to hear.

Fic-a-boo Part 03: Perennial Embers The phone rang three times before it was picked up. "Pepper Potts speaking." "Hi...Umm. Hi, Pepper," you said, your voice a little shaky, "I need to cash in that favor."

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