#I think I’m just struggling with that last bit more than usual today

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Mexican GP

Masterlist

Trigger Warning- slow burn of increasing themes including sexism, SA, depression, and implied grooming.

The roar of engines echoed through the paddock, the familiar hum of pre-race chaos buzzing in the air. Practice sessions were in full swing, and I was doing everything I could to keep my head in the game.

The car felt decent—better than I expected on the bumpy, high-altitude track. But my focus was fraying at the edges, stretched thin by the relentless schedule and the undercurrent of tension that followed me everywhere.

Every time I stepped out of the car, Henry was there. Whether it was snide remarks about my driving, veiled insinuations about my competence, or thinly veiled flirtations that made my skin crawl, he always found a way to remind me of his presence.

“Not bad,” he said after the second practice session, his tone dripping with condescension. “But if you could push just a little harder in Turn 4, maybe you wouldn’t be so far off Fernando’s pace.”

I clenched my jaw, biting back the urge to snap at him. “Noted,” I replied curtly, forcing a smile for the sake of professionalism.

Mark and Tom tried to help where they could, offering constructive feedback and redirecting conversations when Henry’s comments veered into inappropriate territory. But their attempts were often shut down with a sharp glare or dismissive remark from Henry.

By the time media duties rolled around, my energy was already depleted. The questions from reporters were the usual mix of predictable and pointed:

“How are you feeling after your first win?”

“Do you think you can replicate that success here in Mexico?”

“What’s it like competing alongside Fernando Alonso?”

I gave them my best answers, masking my exhaustion and frustration behind a practiced smile. The last thing I needed was for anyone to catch on to how I was really feeling.

After the press conference, I bumped into Oscar and Lando in the paddock.

“You okay?” Oscar asked, his brows knitting together in concern. “You seem... off.”

“Just a rough weekend,” I said quickly, waving him off with a small smile. “I’ll bounce back.”

Lando tilted his head, studying me with a frown. “You sure? You’ve been a bit... quiet. Not your usual snarky self.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, trying to sound more convincing than I felt. “Just tired, that’s all.”

They didn’t look entirely convinced, but they didn’t push either. I appreciated that, even as guilt churned in my stomach. I couldn’t tell them the truth. If word got out that I was struggling with Henry, it wouldn’t take long for the narrative to shift.

“She’s too sensitive.” “She can’t handle the pressure.” “She’s just a weak little girl trying to play with the big boys.”

I couldn’t risk it. Not after everything I’d worked for.

As the day dragged on, I kept my head down, burying myself in the technical briefings and debriefs, trying to drown out Henry’s presence. But no matter how hard I tried, his words clung to me like a shadow, creeping into the corners of my mind and making it harder to focus.

By the time I returned to my hotel room that evening, I felt like I was hanging on by a thread. I sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as exhaustion and frustration washed over me.

Tomorrow was another day, another chance to prove myself. But as much as I wanted to believe that, a small, nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered otherwise.

The paddock was already bustling when I arrived on Qualifying day. Engineers zipped back and forth, journalists hovered for quick soundbites, and the hum of engines warming up vibrated in the air. I clutched my bag a little tighter as I walked toward my garage, trying to shake off the growing pit in my stomach.

It didn’t take long for Henry to find me.

“There you are,” he said, stepping into my path with a smirk that instantly put me on edge. “Thought you’d try to sneak past me today.”

“I’m just here to do my job,” I replied, keeping my tone even as I tried to step around him.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Oh, I know. But maybe you’d do it better if you weren’t so uptight all the time. Loosen up, Y/N. You’re not here to impress anyone, are you?”

I clenched my jaw, forcing a polite smile. “Excuse me, I need to get to the car.”

Henry finally stepped aside, but not before brushing a little too close for comfort. I made a beeline for my personal driver’s room, my sanctuary in this chaos. Once inside, I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath. The room wasn’t much—just a small space with a couch, a locker, and a desk—but it was mine, and more importantly, it was somewhere Henry couldn’t follow.

Every chance I got, I hid in there. Between briefings, media obligations, and prepping for Qualifying, I retreated to the room to recharge and escape his incessant remarks. But out in the paddock, there was no avoiding him.

At one point, as I was heading back from a strategy meeting, Henry was once again trailing behind me, making one of his usual inappropriate comments.

“Do you always walk this fast?” he teased, falling into step beside me. “You know, you don’t have to be so cold. A smile wouldn’t kill you.”

I bit my tongue, willing myself not to snap at him.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice cut through the tension, and I turned to see Max and Lando approaching from the opposite direction. Relief washed over me like a wave.

Max’s sharp eyes flicked between me and Henry, his expression hardening slightly. “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just heading to the garage.”

Lando’s gaze lingered on Henry, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something more serious. “You sure? You look... tense.”

“I’m good,” I insisted, brushing it off as casually as I could. “Just a busy day, you know how it is.”

Max didn’t look convinced. He crossed his arms, his towering presence suddenly feeling like a wall between me and Henry. “If you say so.”

Henry, for his part, looked completely unfazed. “She’s just focused,” he said smoothly, flashing a grin that made my stomach churn. “That’s what we like about her.”

I shot him a warning glance before turning back to Max and Lando. “Thanks for checking in, but really, I’m fine.”

They didn’t press further, though I could feel their eyes on me as I walked away, Henry still trailing a few paces behind.

As soon as I was out of earshot, Max turned to Lando, his expression dark. “She’s not fine.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Lando muttered, glancing after me. “Henry’s always been a bit... much, but that was something else.”

Max nodded, his jaw tightening. “We need to keep an eye on her. Something’s off.”

“Agreed,” Lando said, his usual light tone replaced with quiet determination. “Let’s make sure she knows she’s not alone anymore.”

Meanwhile, back in the garage, I settled into my driver’s room once more, trying to shake off the encounter. But the pit in my stomach only grew, a gnawing reminder that no matter how much I tried to brush it off, something had to give—and soon.

-timeskip- 

The time finally arrived for qualifying, and I felt a strange mix of relief and focus wash over me. For the first time all day, Henry had no reason to be in my orbit—he was stationed on the pit wall, his attention glued to the screens monitoring the car’s performance.

The moment I stepped into the garage and put on my helmet, it was like a switch flipped. The world outside the car didn’t matter anymore. My heart rate steadied, and my grip on the steering wheel felt like an extension of myself. The tension that had weighed on me all weekend melted away as I slid into the cockpit.

The team ran through the final checks as I got comfortable in the car. Mark’s voice came through the radio, calm and steady. “All systems are good. Just focus on the track, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

“Copy that,” I replied, my voice steady. This was my domain, the one place where no one could touch me.

The first two sessions were rough. The car felt a little twitchy, especially in Sector 2, and I struggled to find a rhythm. I pushed through, adjusting my lines and braking points with each lap, determined not to let the day’s earlier frustrations seep into my performance.

As Q3 rolled around, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins. The track was alive with energy, the roar of the crowd blending with the scream of engines. This was it—the moment to make it count.

I pushed the car harder than I had all weekend, finding time in the tricky middle sector and nailing the final corner with just enough finesse to keep the lap together. When I crossed the line, my engineer’s voice crackled in my ear.

“P4, Y/N. Great job! Carlos is on pole, Max P2, Lando P3. Solid result.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, a small smile tugging at my lips. P4 wasn't a pole, but it was more than I had expected given the challenges of the day.

“Thanks, team,” I said, feeling a flicker of pride. “The car felt better that lap. Appreciate the hard work.”

As I brought the car back to the pits, the weight of the day began to lift. For the first time all weekend, I felt like myself again—not the woman constantly dodging Henry’s advances or the driver carrying the pressure of proving she belonged here, but just me.

I climbed out of the car, pulling off my helmet and shaking out my hair. The team greeted me with nods and claps, and I let myself enjoy the moment, however fleeting it might be.

The hotel room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. I let the door shut behind me with a heavy thud, kicking off my shoes and tossing my bag onto the chair in the corner. The adrenaline from qualifying had faded, leaving behind an unsettling cocktail of exhaustion and vulnerability.

The bathroom’s warm light was a stark contrast to the cool, sterile tones of the rest of the room. I turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the small space, and leaned against the counter while I waited for the water to heat up. My reflection stared back at me from the mirror, hair disheveled and dark circles starting to form under my eyes.

I pulled off my post session sweats and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water cascade over my sore muscles. It should’ve been relaxing, but my mind had other plans.

Henry’s words from earlier echoed in my head, relentless and insidious. “Maybe you’d do better if you weren’t so uptight all the time.” “You’re not here to impress anyone, are you?” “That’s what we like about her.”

The mocking tone, the smug grin—it all played on a loop, growing louder and harder to ignore. I scrubbed at my skin as if I could wash away the feeling of his gaze, the weight of his presence lingering like a stain.

I leaned against the cool tile wall, closing my eyes and taking a shaky breath. Was he right? Was I too uptight? Too focused on proving myself? My confidence, so solid on the track, seemed to crumble the moment I stepped out of the car.

After finishing the shower, I wrapped myself in a towel and padded back into the room. The steam followed me, curling into the corners of the space as I sat on the edge of the bed. My routine continued mechanically: brushing out my hair, applying lotion, slipping into comfortable clothes. Each movement was automatic, a distraction from the growing weight pressing down on my chest.

But the thoughts didn’t stop.

Henry’s words weren’t new; they echoed sentiments I’d heard my whole life. “She’s too ambitious.” “She’s too emotional.” “She’s just here for attention.”

I ran a hand through my damp hair, staring at the floor as the doubts wormed their way deeper. My reflection in the full-length mirror caught my eye again. I stood there, taking in every perceived flaw, every reason I didn’t belong.

Was I really good enough? Or was everyone just waiting for me to fail?

I sat back on the bed, pulling my knees to my chest as the self-consciousness gnawed at me. The pride I’d felt earlier, qualifying P4 in a tough session, felt like a distant memory. All I could think about was how much more I had to prove, how many people were waiting to say, “I told you so.”

The loneliness of the room wrapped around me like a shroud. I wanted to cry, to scream, to break something—but instead, I sat there in silence, letting the doubts and insecurities seep into every corner of my mind.

Tomorrow was another day, another fight. But tonight, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

A soft knock at the door broke through the silence of the room. I froze, startled out of my spiraling thoughts. Who would be coming to my room now? Cautiously, I approached the door, glancing through the peephole. Relief washed over me as I saw familiar faces. Hannah and Liam.

I opened the door, and they greeted me with matching grins, Liam holding up a bag that smelled suspiciously like burgers. “Surprise!” he said, stepping past me into the room.

Hannah followed, balancing a tote bag that clinked faintly with the sound of bottled drinks. “We figured you could use some company,” she said, her voice warm and understanding.

“I—uh, yeah,” I said, stepping back to let them in. “Come on in.”

They didn’t wait for a second invitation, making themselves at home. Liam pulled a blanket off the bed and spread it across the floor, creating an impromptu picnic spot, while Hannah unpacked the food.

“We brought burgers, fries, and milkshakes,” Hannah said, glancing over her shoulder with a teasing smile. “Your favorites, right?”

I nodded, touched by the gesture. “Yeah, they are. Thanks, guys.”

We settled onto the floor, the hotel room’s TV playing a cheesy rom-com in the background. For a while, we just ate and talked about everything but racing—joking about Liam’s terrible taste in movies and Hannah’s overly dramatic reactions to every plot twist.

But I could feel their eyes on me, watching closely, their usual banter tinged with a hint of concern.

“So,” Liam said after a pause, leaning back on his hands, “how’s everything going? You’ve been quieter than usual this weekend.”

I hesitated, swirling my straw in my milkshake. “It’s... been a lot,” I admitted carefully. “The pressure from the team is just... a lot to deal with, you know?”

Hannah tilted her head, her expression soft. “You’ve been under pressure since day one, Y/N. This feels different.”

I bit my lip, avoiding their gazes. “It’s just... the expectations. They’ve grown. It’s like... like I have to be perfect all the time. I can’t mess up. Can’t let anyone down.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I froze when I realized I’d echoed something Henry had said earlier in the week.

“Can’t let anyone down,” Hannah repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “Who’s been saying that to you?”

“N-no one,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “It’s just how I feel. It’s nothing, really.”

Liam exchanged a glance with Hannah but didn’t push. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Y/N, you’ve always been good at handling the pressure. But if someone’s making you feel like you’re not good enough, screw them.”

“Yeah,” Hannah chimed in, her voice firm. “You’ve earned your place here. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”

I smiled faintly, grateful for their support, but their words only made the guilt churn in my stomach. I couldn’t tell them the truth. Not yet.

By the end of the night, as we laughed over the absurd ending of the movie and polished off the last of the fries, the tension in my chest had eased slightly. But I could tell Hannah and Liam were still worried. They hadn’t figured out who was getting into my head, but they knew someone was.

As they stood to leave, Hannah gave me a quick hug. “We’re here, okay? For anything.”

“Thanks,” I murmured, meaning it.

Liam lingered in the doorway, his usual teasing grin replaced by something softer. “Don’t forget, Y/N. You’ve got a whole grid of people who’ve got your back, whether you like it or not.”

I nodded, watching as they walked down the hallway.

Liam and Hannah walked down the hallway in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. It wasn’t until they turned the corner, safely out of earshot from Y/N’s room, that Liam finally spoke.

“She’s not telling us everything,” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know her. She always tries to deal with things alone when it gets bad.”

Hannah nodded, her expression serious. “Yeah. She slipped up a couple of times, repeating things someone else must’ve said. ‘Can’t let anyone down’? That didn’t sound like her.”

As they reached the lobby, they spotted Max Verstappen leaning against a wall, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as they approached, immediately straightening when he caught their expressions.

“What’s going on?” Max asked, tucking his phone away.

Hannah glanced around to make sure no one else was listening before answering. “We went to check on Y/N. She’s not okay, Max. She’s brushing it off as team pressure, but it’s more than that. Someone’s in her head.”

Max’s jaw tightened, his gaze darkening. “I thought so. I saw something earlier—her engineer. He was following her around the paddock like a shadow, making her visibly uncomfortable. She tried to act like everything was fine, but I could tell it wasn’t. The guy’s overly demanding, crossing the line from professional to... something else.”

Liam crossed his arms, his frustration bubbling over. “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Max shot him a pointed look. “What was I supposed to do? Accuse someone without knowing the full story? She’d hate that. But now I’m starting to think it’s worse than I realized.”

Hannah hesitated, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Do you think... it’s more than just workplace harassment?”

“What do you mean?” Liam asked, frowning.

Hannah shifted uncomfortably, lowering her voice. “What if he’s grooming her? I mean, the way she described his comments—they weren’t just about her performance. They sounded... personal. Like he’s trying to break her down, make her feel dependent on him.”

Max’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger barely contained. “If that’s what’s happening—if he’s trying to manipulate her into something worse—he’s going to regret it.”

Liam nodded, his jaw set. “We need to keep an eye on her. If she won’t talk to us, we have to make sure she’s not alone with him as much as possible.”

Hannah sighed, worry etched across her face. “And if we’re wrong? What if it’s just the pressure getting to her?”

Max’s voice was cold, determined. “Then we’ll still have her back. But if we’re right, he’s done. No one messes with one of us like that. Especially not her.”

The trio stood in silence for a moment, a shared understanding passing between them. Y/N might not have asked for their help, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t give it.

“She’s not going to like this,” Liam said finally, shaking his head.

Max smirked, though his eyes remained hard. “She’ll thank us later. Or she won’t. Either way, we’re not letting this slide.”

With that, they split off, each silently vowing to protect her, no matter what it took.

As they parted ways, Max pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he composed a message. He wasn’t one to stir the pot unnecessarily, but this was different. Y/N was part of their grid family now, and family looked out for each other.

Max Verstappen (Group Chat: "Grid Gossip")Guys, we need to talk about something serious.

The chat, typically filled with memes, jokes, and random banter, immediately grew quiet. The typing bubbles from multiple drivers popped up almost instantly.

Lando Norris:What’s going on?

Charles Leclerc:Serious? Coming from you, Max?

Lewis Hamilton:What’s happening?

Max sighed, leaning against the wall, and continued typing.

Max Verstappen:It’s about Y/N. I’ve noticed her engineer, acting really off with her. Following her around, being overly demanding, and making comments that clearly make her uncomfortable. Liam, Hannah, and I think it might be more than just workplace stuff.

George Russell:More than workplace stuff? Like harassment?

Max Verstappen:Maybe. Hannah thinks it might even be grooming. The way he’s breaking her down, it’s not normal. She won’t tell us what’s really going on, but it’s affecting her. Badly.

Lando Norris:I’ve seen him hovering too. She tries to brush it off, but you can tell she’s not okay.

Carlos Sainz:This is serious. What���s the plan?

Lewis Hamilton:We can’t just sit back and do nothing. We need to be careful, though. If we push too hard, it might make things worse for her.

Max Verstappen:Agreed. For now, we keep an eye on her. Make sure she’s not alone with him. And if he crosses the line again, we step in. Hard.

Charles Leclerc:I’ll talk to her if I get the chance. Maybe she’ll open up to me.

George Russell:Or me. She’s close with a few of us. If we all subtly check in, she might feel comfortable enough to tell one of us.

Lando Norris:And if she doesn’t? What if she keeps trying to handle it alone?

Max Verstappen:Then we protect her anyway. She is not going to fight this by herself, this engineer holds to much over her. 

The group chat lit up with agreements, each driver vowing to do their part.

As Max slipped his phone back into his pocket, a small weight lifted from his chest. Y/N wasn’t alone in this, whether she realized it yet or not. The grid had her back, and together, they’d make sure no one—least of all Henry—could tear her down.

[pernesophe]

It’s kind of a cosmic joke that my PMDD started hitting exactly 12hrs after my birthday ended.

[0omillo0]

Oki so Im like searching fics all day long and u said i can request and im never getting enough of ur fics anyways so here luv 💕

Sooo Chan x reader

where maybe reader is already feeling horrible lately. And today smth appens at the studio and chan gets rlly frustrated so he comes home and today yn has been feeling even worse and feels like she can’t even get out of bed but like Chan comes home, not even seeing yns horrible stadium so he lets all the anger out on her wich rlly gives her the last push to like feeling just entirely depressed. Then she is standing crying and totally drained in front of one of the other members door, breaking down totally.

I’ll let the rest up to u, pls make it really really angsty but pls i just need a good lot of comfort at the end ❤️

BANGCHAN X READER

a/n: I’ve already made a vv similar story but I like this one so much better! let me know what you think ♡ also this is for my beloved @hannamoon143 tysm for your request and sorry for the wait!

genre: angst, comfort

The day had already been heavy, dragging you down like you were walking through thick mud. Lately, it seemed every breath took more effort than the last, and today, it had reached a peak. You couldn’t even get out of bed. The weight of everything pressed down on you, making the air feel like it was suffocating. It wasn’t like this was new—this lingering sadness had been with you for days, like a dark cloud refusing to lift.

You curled up deeper into your sheets, staring at the wall. You hadn’t moved in hours, hadn’t eaten, hadn’t done anything but exist in this space of nothingness. The world outside your room felt miles away, unreachable. The only sound you heard was the occasional muffled voices from outside your apartment.

And then there was a slam. You heard the front door being pushed open harder than usual, and you knew Chan was home. The sound of his keys hitting the counter was sharp, followed by a frustrated sigh that cut through the quiet air. You knew that sound—something must’ve gone wrong at the studio. His day hadn’t been any better than yours, apparently.

Your body wanted to get up, wanted to greet him, but you couldn’t. It was like you were glued to the mattress. Even when you heard his footsteps approaching, your body wouldn’t listen.

The door to the bedroom opened, and without looking at him, you knew he was tense. His energy radiated frustration, the kind that made rooms feel smaller, the air thicker.

“God, today was insane,” Chan muttered, not noticing how you barely shifted under the covers. His voice was rough, filled with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. “Everything went wrong. Absolutely everything.”

You bit your lip, the words you wanted to say caught in your throat. Maybe if you said something, anything, it could stop what you knew was coming.

But then he turned, finally looking at you, his eyes glossing over the state you were in. He couldn’t see it—he couldn’t see how you were breaking inside. All he saw was a person not responding, and it made him snap.

“Can you at least say something?!” His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut deep. His frustration had reached its peak, and you were the closest target. “I’ve been dealing with so much today, and you’re just lying there. Not a word, nothing. Are you a fucking emotionless doll??”

You flinched at his tone, at his words. Your chest tightening even more. The tears that had been sitting at the edge of your eyes began to spill over silently.

Chan didn’t notice right away. His anger kept him blind. He sighed. “I’m sorry if I sound harsh, but it’s been such a mess, and I can’t—” His words stumbled to a stop when he saw the way your body shook, the way you were crying silently beneath the covers.

“Y/N?” His voice softened, the frustration vanishing as quickly as it had come. “Hey, hey…” He moved closer, but it was too late. The weight of everything—his words, your own struggles—it all collapsed in on you like a tidal wave.

You sat up slowly, the sobs shaking your frame as you tried to wipe the tears away, but they kept coming. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely audible through the storm of emotions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— I just… I can’t…”

Chan’s face fell as he realized what he’d done. “No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t see it. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t see how much you were hurting. I’ve made it worse I’m so sorry—“

But his apology couldn’t stop the breaking that was already happening inside you. You needed to escape, to find some sort of relief from the pressure that was crushing you from all sides.

Without saying a word, you slipped out of the bed, your legs unsteady, and you walked toward the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Chan’s voice followed you, concern clear in his tone, but you couldn’t stop. Not now.

You found yourself in front of one of the other members’ doors. You didn’t even know how you got there, your vision blurred with tears. Maybe it was instinct, seeking comfort somewhere, anywhere, that wasn’t the suffocating silence of your room or the crushing weight of your mind.

You knocked, barely registering the sound of your own fist against the wood. And then, as if the last string holding you together snapped, your body gave in. You slid down to the floor, your arms wrapping around your knees as the sobs came harder now, uncontrollable, raw.

The door opened, and the blurry shape of someone—was it Felix?—stood there, eyes wide in shock. “Y/N…?” he asked gently, his voice like a balm, but you couldn’t respond. All you could do was cry.

“Hey, hey, what happened?” Felix crouched down beside you, his hand hovering for a moment before gently resting on your shoulder. His touch was warm, comforting in a way that made you feel safe enough to let it all out. “It’s okay, I’m here. You’re not alone.”

His words broke something else in you, but this time, it wasn’t painful. It was a release. The tears kept falling, but his presence kept you grounded, kept you from drowning completely.

Behind you, you heard Chan’s hurried footsteps. He stopped when he saw you on the floor, a mix of guilt and worry etched into his face. “Y/N…” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Felix looked up at him, a silent exchange passing between them, and Chan knelt down beside you. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped, choking on his own emotions, before continuing softly, “I should’ve seen that you were hurting. I was selfish.”

You looked up at him, your vision still blurred, but you could see the regret, the hurt in his eyes. And it wasn’t just because he’d had a rough day. It was because he hadn’t been there for you when you needed him most.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your voice shaking.

Chan shook his head, reaching out to take your hands in his, his grip gentle, tentative. “No, no, you don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention. I love you, and I should’ve been there for you. I’m so so sorry for calling you.. the way I called you. I’m sorry baby”

You shook your head. “Do you think I’m useless?? Am I just a doll to you??”

Chan realised how much his words hurt you. At this point he felt so guilty, his expression softened, his big glossy eyes looking directly at yours. “Y/Nie, my love, I didn’t mean to say those awful things to you. I understand if you’re not going to trust me anymore, but I swear I love you more than anything and I’ll do anything to make it up for you.. for us..”

Felix gave a small nod and stood up, retreating to give the two of you space. Chan pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as he spoke, “We’re going to get through this. Together, okay? I’m not leaving you to deal with this alone.”

And for the first time that day, you felt a small sense of relief, a small flicker of hope. It wasn’t going to be easy—these feelings, this heaviness—but you weren’t alone. Chan was with you, and that made all the difference.

As you sat there, held in his arms, the storm inside you slowly began to calm, the cracks in your heart starting to mend, piece by piece.

“I’m here,” Chan whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’ll always be here.”

taglist

@hannamoon143 @intartaruginha

[crossingthedreams]

do better — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: I got a little carried away, per usual, and now I’m late with day 04 of the angstober challenge (still a wyp), but I plan on finishing it and posting later today. but, omg, I can’t believe I'm posting day 05 — do better on time! this is also part of @angstober‘s challenge, which I'm having a blast writing. I do love some angsty vibes. please, feel free to comment or dm me!

summary: a relationship between the boss and his employee has a million ways to go wrong. one, in particular, hurt them the most. 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: angst. House is an asshole. mentions of family death. mentions of cancer. struggles with immigration. inappropriate relationship. mentions of smut.

Let medicine be thy food. 

That's the quote, or at least you think it is. After a particularly long shift, words in English seemed to scramble together a bit, with it being your second language and all. Usually, you’re a natural, perfect, fluent speaker. There are moments, however, when understanding what your peers are saying or formulating cohesive sentences becomes a herculean task. You didn’t make yourself unintelligible, but it was a little awkward to be with a patient who clearly had no idea how globalized the world was and how many doctors in the United States were not native English speakers, and who looked at you like you had just robbed the white coat from a “proper doctor”.

Sure, dealing with people was shitty sometimes. “Doctors don’t treat people, they treat illnesses”, your boss had once said. But in your mind, people weren’t that bad. The long hours, the sleep deprivation, the lack of a social life — that was the really bad part. And there were, of course, the very short lunch breaks. 

Medicine was fun, but it had nothing on a full plate of pasta with those weird looking meatballs. What once was disgusting, now seemed appetizing as hell. Not eating once while working for the whole night could do that to a person. Medicine was not food, at least not literally.

You had taken off your sweater and your white coat a while before going to the cafeteria, where the rest of the team was. As of right now, you and Chase had spent thirty-six hours working. Cameron and Foreman had taken the long straws and gone home last night while you and the prettiest doctor around worked on some lab tests. 

That man who, right now, was not really trying to hide how he lustfully eyed you up and down, stopping on your cleavage. You didn’t blame him for looking, though. Firstly, you did spend the night working together and you mentioned that you did not have sex for the last six months, and secondly, you had nice boobs, which was both a blessing and a curse. Also, he was very much exhausted. Thinking about your coworkers in an unfashionable manner to keep awake was better than falling asleep atop of a patient during a lumbar puncture — you had done both, so you could tell, oops. 

“I’ll die if I have to do any more thinking”, the pretty doctor said, accent even more prominent, letting his head drop to the headrest of his seat behind him. 

“Yes, thinking just doesn’t come naturally to some people”, you laughingly replied, sitting down next to Foreman. He scooched over, making more room for you and your tray. There was enough pasta on your plate to feed two, not to mention the salad, the dessert, the can of Coke and the can of energy drink. 

“Damn, kid, do you not have food at home?” You eyed Foreman, a little annoyed at the comment. Why did men think they had the right to comment on women’s food choices and bodies all the damn time? “Don’t give me that look, you know that’s a lot, especially for a girl who skips lunch every other day”. 

“Not by choice” you said, taking a lot of pasta into your mouth. “Nof ba chos”, you replied, mouth full, making everyone at the table let out a tired laugh. 

It was an uneventful meal. The team was really tired, especially Chase, who almost dropped his head on his plate twice. The four of you rushed upstairs when lunch was over, after being paged by your boss. 

The man himself was pacing back and forth in the conference room, brows furrowed and looking extremely aggravated. Nothing new, then, you think, sitting down across from Cameron. 

Allison Cameron and you had been friends since med school, and getting to work together was pretty nice. Women in STEM need each other, of that you were sure. The thing is, she was in a weird place romantically, which made you feel weird about getting along with the people about whom she was confused — which hardly makes sense, but it is what it is. She had a crush on your boss for the longest time, and that didn’t work out at all. And then there was Chase, who she had slept with, but had no interest in further pursuing. 

Hanging out with Chase knowing he’d seen her naked was a little weird, but the fact they’d slept together wasn’t the problem. He liked her, and that was her problem. Your boss, well, he was everybody’s problem. 

Particularly yours, considering… you know. The one-night-that-became-every-night. The HR-nightmare. The doing-the-devil’s-tango. The seeing-each-other-scars. The kissing-and-absolutely-not-telling.

It was fairly easy sneaking around. He was inappropriate, sure, but not big on PDA. He treated you like any other dumbass employee with boobs. If anyone saw the two of you leaving the hospital together? You worked together. If you were seen going towards the same place? You’re neighbors, duh. And if anyone happened to see the two of you having breakfast together in the little café a block around his place? Well, it was a coincidence meeting him there! 

If they saw you giving him head while he tried to play the piano, well… There’s no explanation for that. 

You looked at him coming and going, and you knew his leg must be killing him. Yesterday when you left his home in the morning to pick up your stuff for the day (which turned out to be the day, the night and the next day), he was popping more pills than usual. Shit. 

“New case?”, Cameron asked, looking at the limping man with worry and care in her eyes. You liked her a lot, but she had to stop thinking about your limping man with such care. 

Sure, she liked him first. And she probably worried for him just as she would anyone else. And it was ridiculous to be annoyed at your long-time friend for caring for her boss. Still, there was a sting of jealousy that made you want to bitch-slap her. 

He finally stopped and looked at all of you. When his eyes finally met you, he looked right at your low cut top and let out a “Yowza!”. When you blushed and stood up to pick your white coat, he called your last name, and said, nonchalantly: “Nice boobs”. 

You raised a hand to pinch at the bridge of your nose as you sat down. It might seem like sexual harassment — and at first, it was a little bit —, but now it was just him being as inappropriate as always. Hiding from his feelings, keeping his distance with pathetic remarks and cold attitudes. It made you sad when you started working for him, but right now, you pinched your nose to stop you from giggling like a sixteen year old cheerleader being noticed by the boy on the football team. Or rather, the boy on the bench cursing at the stupid players.

Dr. Gregory House had a massive crush on you, and that made all the shit he did go away. 

You realized Chase started updating House on the patient you spent all night testing and monitoring. Truth is, that guy didn’t stand a chance for a normal life here on forward. At best, he had a benign hereditary chorea. Worst case scenario, it was Huntington manifesting earlier than it should, as you’d been saying from the beginning. 

“Shut up”, House said to Chase, making those blue Australian eyes widen. Poor guy, he looked beyond exhausted. “I understand how DNA testing works. I went to med school too, remember?”

“Yeah, but that was seven hundred years ago”, you let out before you could think twice. You teased House a little for being older. Scratch that, you gave him a lot of crap for being older. You just didn’t do it in front of the team, which was why they all looked at you horrified. 

Horrified, but Foreman was holding in a laugh.

The ‘old-man’ hit his cane on the desk, turning the attention back to him. “Ouch”.

You smiled, playing it off like a remark made by an exhausted overworked young woman who disliked her boss. House half-screamed some orders to all of you, even though he already knew you had clinic duty. 

The hours left to finish on the clinic were manageable, so you could finish it after you did some of the tests House asked.  

Time passed by too quickly, and as your day went by, you remembered you had to talk to Wilson as soon as possible. It wasn’t a life or death matter, but a peace of mind kind of thing. You decided to stop by his office before you It was then that you overheard something you shouldn’t have.

Well, that brought the high school memories right back. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, also known as the beginning of your third shift in a row, and you were stopping by Wilson’s office to discuss a private matter. A family member of yours had cancer, and then another one. By the time your fourth relative came down with the diagnosis, you decided to check your genetic predisposition. Although the tests came back clean, meaning you were safe for oncology purposes, you still wanted to know his opinion on how you could be even safer.

You looked cancer in the eyes many times. You didn’t want to look at it in the mirror too. 

For some godly reason, you stopped before knocking. That’s when you recognized your boss’s voice, complaining about something, per usual. 

“She’s a baby! She had never watched Grease, for crying out loud”, the voice and the footsteps made their sounds in harmony. You leaned in closer to the door, to try and listen better. 

“Well, you two barely know each other, now it’s the time to know if there’s a future in this relationship or not. And would you ever marry her?”, Wilson’s voice, and the words made you freeze. 

“Not everyone has marriage on the brain 24/7, Wilson”, House replied. Even from behind the door, you could almost hear the engines in his brain turning. “And God, no. I could never marry her. I can do better than a gullible third-world princess”.

You froze.

Of course he’d say that. Of course. Even if he didn’t mean it. 

The realization came like an electrical shock flowing through your body. You felt it, and it made the hairs on the nape of your neck rise. 

You meant nothing to him. 

As an immigrant, the feeling of never belonging is constant. You don’t belong in the place you now live, but you don’t really belong in the place you were born. 

You had felt for a fraction of a second that you could find your place here. In House's department. Perhaps, even with House. God, you were stupid. You were a device for him to finish his puzzles, and an object to finish… Well, to finish himself off. 

As you left your transe and heard the voices again, you ran as fast as you could back to the clinic, where you had a couple hours left to finish. There was something you needed to arrange with Cuddy, too. 

Hours later, you were in the department’s room reading some exams when House walked in. 

He eyed you up and down again, eyes lingering on your breasts a little longer than a boss’ eyes normally would. “So”, he took his bootle from his jacket and opened it, popping a couple of pills, “your place or mine?” 

“You suck”, you murmured, angrily, but pouting a little. He’d never admit it, but he loved seeing you a little aggravated, crossing your arms in front of your body in a way that made your already eye-catching torso irresistible. 

He smiled a little, putting the medicine back in his pocket. “No, sweetheart”, he now fully grinned, “that’s you.”

You rolled your eyes, but let your arms fall and a cold smile creeped into your face. 

“Yes, I do, actually”, you rose up from the chair and walked all the way towards him, hitting your hand towards his chest and pressing the paper you were holding against him. “I’m a full on sucker, and ass-kisser, as you like to point out. That’s why your so called mortal enemy offered me a job in New York”. 

He took the paper, blue eyes never leaving yours. 

“Consider this my two weeks notice”. It was hard to say, but it felt a little good, too. Logically, there were no downsides in this opportunity. Then, why did it hurt so much? “I guess everyone was right. I can do better”.

The double meaning was not lost on House. 

Your hand finally left his chest, and he didn’t look back as you left. 

Looking at it now, it all seems so simple. It never is, though, is it? Especially with House. And you, an intelligent, kind, talented and ambitious young woman, could definitely do better than attach yourself to a crippled, bitter, odious older man. 

You were doing better now. So, why, pray tell, why did this still hurt so much? 

[moonstruckme]

I am clean from sh for about 6 months now (yay me) and lately, idk why, I’ve just kinda been struggling with accepting my scars and the fact that I’ll have them probably forever and your writing is really comforting and actually helps, so I wanted to ask if u could maybe write something with Spencer helping reader feel ok with having them on reader‘s thighs?

totally understand that that’s a touchy topic and if u don’t wanna write it, I also completely get it, thanks anyway for even reading this xxx

Ahh yay you!!! Congrats baby, and thank you for requesting <3

cw: past self harm, some nudity that's really not sexual but they joke about it a bit

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

You’re sweltering. D.C. doesn’t usually get very warm, but for the last week you’ve been on a streak of record-breaking temperatures that’s made your clothes stick to your skin and has caused even your perpetually chilled boyfriend to refrain from putting on his cardigan until he gets inside his work each morning. Just walking between your car and various air conditioned buildings is enough to make you consider moving to the Arctic. 

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping inelegantly down on the bed to peel your jeans off. “Can we turn the A/C down to sixty, please?” 

“Let’s start with seventy,” Spencer negotiates. You hear his footsteps stop halfway down the hall as he adjusts the monitor. “I think we still have some lemonade left, if you want some.”

“Ugh, yes.” You tear your jeans off your ankles with enough force to nearly send them flying across the room and sigh blissfully as the A/C kicks on. 

You change out of your sweaty shirt too, going for your pajamas despite it being hours from darkness falling. You have no plans to go out into that hellscape again until tomorrow. You hesitate over a pair of pajama shorts before slipping on loose pants instead, not quite as cool but still light enough to allow some air flow. 

“I love you,” you tell Spencer when he passes you your lemonade as you come into the living room, sitting beside him on the couch. Ice clinks inside your glass, which is already forming little beads of condensation. You have the urge to rub it on your face. “I mean, unconditionally, but especially right now.” 

“I’ll take it,” he jokes back, tilting his head back so his face is in the path of the A/C vent. When he looks up, he finds you pinching up the fabric of your pants around your knees, trying to create a pathway for the air to move up your legs. “Why are you wearing those?”

You know what he’s asking you, and you intentionally misunderstand. “I felt like it was pajama time. No way am I going outside again today.” 

“Right, but aren’t you warm?” Spencer tilts his head. He looks like a particularly cunning puppy, brown eyes soft and inquisitive.

“A little,” you admit. 

“Then why not wear something shorter?” 

“That’s awfully forward of you.” You do your best to give him a smile. It doesn’t stick around long in the face of your boyfriend’s serious expression, increasingly worried. “Maybe I don’t feel like parading my legs around for you.” 

You can see the cogs turning in Spencer’s brain, and the usually fascinating process is suddenly almost painful to watch. You know he’s thinking of what you refusing to wear shorts used to mean, how nobody ever thought anything of it because, again, D.C. doesn’t tend to get very warm. How evasive you were about it then, too. An uncomfortable weight settles in your stomach. 

“Is there a reason you don’t want them out?” he asks, and his voice is gentle but his gaze is unflinching. 

You try to hold it as you shake your head. “I’m still clean.” The words seem to take more air than they should. Your guilt and embarrassment are enough to choke on. “I promise.” 

Spencer nods. “I believe you.” 

His eyes don’t so much as twitch down to your covered thighs. Relief like a cool breeze passes through you. It’s no small thing, his trust in you. Not after you’d gone so far out of your way to hide the evidence of your hurt from him before. 

“But it’s still related to that, isn’t it?” He lifts his glass, taking a sip before wiping the corner of his mouth. You almost smile, picturing your boyfriend in an interrogation room asking questions with this same gentle tone and wide open, curious expression. You don’t think Spencer could ever be harsh. 

“Yeah,” you say. What felt like something private and humiliating a minute before you suddenly want to share with him. Spencer tends to have that effect on you; he makes divulging your most gut-twisting secrets feel natural and easy. “My scars just haven’t gone away. I don’t really want to see them.” 

Spencer’s mouth pinches. “You know they won’t ever fully go away, right?” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, but it doesn’t feel like letting anything out. “I know.” 

“They will probably fade, though.” His fingers circle your ankle loosely, calluses skimming softly over your achilles tendon. “Is it that you don’t want to see them, or you don’t want me to?” 

You rub your lips together. Shrug. “Both, I guess.” 

He tilts his head. Like your answer is expected, but nonetheless perplexing. “I don’t care if I see them,” he says. His hand coasts up your leg, over the fabric of your pants, until he grasps it by your knee. “Can I?” 

You nod. You know he’d let it go if you said no, but it’s not worth begrudging him. “Sure.” 

Spencer brings both hands to the fabric at your hips, and you lift your bum up off the couch as he pulls downwards. Your legs are happy to breathe, the cool air coming out of the vent even nicer than you’d thought it would be. Spencer keeps going until your pajama pants are balled up underneath your feet. 

“You really were hot,” he says. It’s neither teasing nor gloating, a simple statement of fact. His fingers come to rest at your ankle again, and it’s the only kind of warmth you’ll allow. “Is it actually worth it?” 

You look down at your thighs. Your skin feels better than it had covered up, but it’s also a physical reminder of things you’d rather forget. “I don’t know,” you reply. 

“I understand why you don’t like them,” Spencer says. When you look up, you expect him to be as stuck on your scars as you are, but he’s looking at your face. His stare is calm and unmoving, like they don’t command his attention the way they do yours. “But I think they may be with you for a while. It might help to start trying to get used to them.” 

You blow out a breath. “I want to.” 

“I know,” he says. Easily, the way he’d said I believe you. And you think that he probably does know. Spencer has things from his past he can’t fully leave behind, too. 

His forefinger moves slowly up and down the back of your ankle, an absentminded gesture for him and a comfort for you. Slowly, his eyes dip down to your legs. You fight the urge to squirm and hide. 

“You know,” he muses, “there’s actually one thing I sort of like about seeing them.” 

Your top lip starts to curl automatically, your brows pulling together. “What?” 

“Just, that they’re old.” Spencer seems not to have noticed your reaction. His gaze is contemplative. “I mean, it’s not that I’m looking for them all the time or anything, but it’s nice to see them and know there aren’t going to be any new ones. These ones will fade, and then that will be it.” 

Something new clogs your throat. It’s just as heavy as before, but far kinder. 

Spencer looks up at you. He looks sheepish, the corner of his mouth uptilted self-consciously. “Sorry, it’s a weird line of thinking. I don’t want you to think I’m always checking on them.”

“No,” you swallow, “I get it. That’s nice, Spence.” 

He shrugs. “It’s the truth.” 

You could almost laugh. He makes things so simple. “I’ll change into shorts.” 

“You don’t have to,” he says. “If you’re already cooling off.” 

“Oh, yeah?” You keep your voice light, grinning at him as you shuffle over to straddle his lap. His fingers brush over a couple of the lines on your thigh as he brings them around your back, and the sensation doesn’t make you feel as shuddery as usual. You hug him with your arms around his neck. “You’re cool with me just staying like this then? No pants?” 

“Not if you don’t want to wear them,” he says agreeably. 

You laugh and hug him harder. “Thanks,” you tell him sincerely. 

Spencer only makes a soft dismissive sound as he hugs you back. 

[strwbryien]

｢ ᝰ.ᐟ entry 07: COLLAB STREAM ⭑.ᐟ ｣

“Hello, guys! How are you all doing today?” you greeted your fans with a bright smile, adjusting the mic as your avatar waves at the screen.

The chat exploded with messages, colorful usernames scrolling past.

"Glad to see you're all doing well! I'm doing pretty good, too," you said with a laugh.

“Scaramouche will be joining the stream in a few minutes, so please behave and be nice, okay?” You giggled, knowing full well that chaos will be inevitable once he shows up.

chaelvskumi: what are we playing today, kumi? :D

“We’re playing Twin Realms today! It’s Hoyoverse’s newest game—super hyped about it!” Your voice practically bubbled with excitement as you adjusted the game screen on stream.

Before you could continue, a familiar voice cut through the light-hearted atmosphere.

“Are you always this loud, or is it just a special treat for me?” Scaramouche’s sarcastic tone made you freeze for a moment. He had entered the stream.

“Oh, you’re here already,” you deadpanned, turning toward his avatar on the screen—a smirking, cocky character that fits him so well.

“No shit, you let me in,” he replied flatly.

The chat erupted with lmao and omg it’s starting already as the banter kicked off.

“Shut up, Scara,” you shot back

“No thanks,” he said, the smugness in his voice palpable.

You sighed dramatically, “Chat, why did I agree to this collab again? Remind me, please.”

teapotenthusiast: Because you love us suffering.

kuniixfan: lol suffer

zuhakiss: this is a bad idea 😭

scara4ever: scara please marry me

“See? Even chat knows this was a bad idea,” you muttered, switching tabs to load the game.

Scaramouche hummed in mock agreement. “Bad idea for you, maybe. For me? Free entertainment. Watching you struggle is the highlight of my week.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that when I beat you in every realm today,” you shot back with a smirk.

“As if,” he scoffed. “Let’s see how long you last before rage-quitting.”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The game loaded, its dramatic opening music filling the stream, accompanied by stunning visuals. Aether and Lumine appeared as the starter characters, standing side by side in a glowing field of starlight.

“Wah! It’s Aether and Lumine!” you exclaimed, leaning closer to the screen. “They’re finally together after all that drama, huh?”

“It feels... weird,” Scaramouche replied, his tone more thoughtful than usual. “Seeing them together like this. We only ever get one twin while playing genshin.”

Chat buzzed with excitement.

onittobuto: justice for the twins!!

aetheriswife: hoyoverse finally giving us what we deserve 🗣️‼️

st4rryoi: they look so pretty!

“Well, it’s about time,” you said, cutting through the chatter. “I hope they stay together for the whole game—none of that tragic separation stuff.”

You refocused on the screen. “Hey, come here. I think we need to stand on this platform together to trigger the cutscene.”

“Tch, so demanding,” he grumbled, but his character moved begrudgingly toward yours.

“Oh, shut up and stand still,” you shot back

The two avatars stood side by side on the glowing platform. A dazzling beam of light engulfed them, and the screen began to fade, signaling the start of an cutscene.

sorayaz: are you ever gonna stream not faceless, kumi? :3

You chuckled nervously, glancing at the chat. “Honestly, I don’t know yet. I still feel a bit anxious about streaming with my face, so... yeah, I’m not sure.”

“How about you, Scara?” you asked, turning the question on him. “Are you ever gonna do a face reveal?”

“I don’t know,” he replied casually. “But I probably will at some point. Still, I don’t really care about that. They should watch me for my gameplay, not my face.”

scaraswife: ithought you’d quit streaming after showing that... face of yours 💀 how are you still going lol?

You froze for a moment, unsure how to respond. “Oh... uhm—”

“If you don’t have anything nice to say,” Scaramouche cut in sharply, his tone colder than usual, “exit this fucking stream. You’re embarrassing me.”

The chat fell silent for a few seconds before erupting:

chaelvskumi: you tell them, scara

kumiluvr: who the hell was that? can someone ban them

beigguangsolos: LMAO THAT’S WHAT YOU GET 💀

saetoru: dw kumi, they're js insecure bc you're pretty

“Anyway,” Scaramouche continued, brushing the comment off like it never happened, “if anyone else feels the need to act stupid, save us both the time and leave now.” You bit back a laugh, shaking your head. “Well, that’s one way to handle it.”

“What? I’m not wrong,” he said

prev | masterlist | next

synopsis:

IN WHICH—you, although faceless, are a very famous streamer known as KUMI. you were streaming as usual, playing games and interacting with fans. but when you're about to exit the stream, you accidentally pressed the wrong button that led to you opening your cam and showing your whole face to your audience. this wasn't supposed to happen, no ! so you panicked and quickly ended the stream. numerous screenshots circulated on twitter, which broke both the fans and the internet. this reached a certain someone, SCARAMOUCHE, your rival in streaming. when the said boy saw the trending photo, he almost fell off his gaming chair. because—lo and behold! KUMI was actually [name]?! now who is this [name] in his life, if you may ask? she's the girl that scaramouche has been admiring from afar in real life! quite shocking, right? have i told you that he’s also been sending you anonymous love letters? oh well...

ꪆৎ taglist

@imnotyizhuo @kazufavor @najaemism @simonisferal @lovelypadisarah @eternallykira-143 @yourfavoritefreakyhan @yuminako @035814 @squigglewigglewoo @lxkeeeee @blvdmrcnry @wth121 @lloovvv @3lectraheart @lovemiyae @danhenglovebot @heusalettle @automaticpatroltragedy @kyon-cherri @lalalaloveallmydays @musings-of-miss-j @ilxandra @lazy-sanns @vixialuvs @bananasquash @kochothehoe @lily-lmao @shutingstar @sketcheeee @minhosprettywife @crimxeorcremeexistspeacefully @kinanahana @featuredtofu @tamikahoshiko @jayzioxx @kleeboomed @saechiro @shyentsmissingink @poemzcheng @rifran @projectsfantasy @yejiswifex @peachystea @vi0let-writes @sicuit @hee-jinn @6blxe @viannasthings @trulyylee

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you.

part 5 of 12

Synopsis: Morning confrontations bring afternoon coffee showers? Dealing with the aftermath of the bonfire

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

Warnings: luke being a shitty dad

masterlist

----

The morning sun filtered through the wide-open windows of the Chateau, casting lazy golden beams over the worn but welcoming space. Y/N had woken up early, unable to sleep much after the emotional rollercoaster of the previous night. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was distant but soothing, a sharp contrast to the unease she still felt in the pit of her stomach.

She had wandered into the living room of the Chateau, the place the Pogues often gathered, now quiet after the chaos of the bonfire. The remnants of last night's party—the beer cans, half-empty bottles, and scattered towels—were strewn across the floor, evidence of the good times they’d shared. But the joy from last night felt distant now.

Y/N settled into one of the couches, looking out at the ocean. She was lost in her thoughts when she heard the soft creak of footsteps behind her. Turning, she saw Kiara walking in, wearing her usual calm expression, though Y/N could tell her friend had already sensed something was off.

“Hey,” Kiara said gently, taking a seat beside Y/N. She looked out at the water, then back at her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitated, unsure how to start. She had been so caught up in her emotions last night, trying to laugh it off, but now, in the quiet aftermath, the weight of it all was harder to ignore. She bit her lip, looking down at her hands.

“I just… I don’t know,” Y/N started, her voice quieter than she intended. “Last night, the way they all were talking… I mean, it’s nothing new, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Kiara’s expression softened. “The jokes about you not hooking up with anyone?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. It’s like, they don’t see me as a girl at all. Just one of the guys. And I know I’ve always been… the bookworm, or whatever, but it’s different now. I don’t know why, but it just hurt last night. I wanted to be seen, you know? I’m not just ‘one of you.’”

Kiara let out a sigh, clearly understanding the struggle Y/N was dealing with. “You’ve always been one of us, Y/N. The Pogues, we’re a family. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be treated like more than just the ‘girl version’ of one of the guys. You’re allowed to feel that way.”

Y/N turned to Kiara, her eyes searching for reassurance. “But why does it feel like I’m always in the background? Like no one really notices me for who I am, just… who I’ve always been to them.”

Kiara gave her a small, knowing smile. “Because it’s easier to see you as the bookworm, the one who’s always steady and reliable. It’s easier than admitting that you might want something more. But you deserve that, Y/N. More than anyone else.”

Just as Y/N was about to respond, the door to JJ's honorary bedroom opened, and JJ walked in, his hair still messy from the night before, his signature carefree grin on his face. He paused for a moment when he saw them, then sauntered over to the couch, plopping down beside Kiara with a playful look.

“Good morning, ladies,” JJ said, his voice light and teasing. “I see we survived the bonfire chaos.”

Kiara rolled her eyes. “You look like you survived a tornado.”

JJ chuckled. “The waves were rough last night. But I made it through, don’t worry.”

Y/N couldn’t help but give a small laugh, but the knot in her stomach tightened again when she remembered the night before. She glanced at him briefly, her heart still doing that strange flutter whenever she saw him, even though she’d tried to shake off her feelings for him.

“Did you have fun last night?” Kiara asked, her voice casual, but Y/N could sense there was a little more to it.

JJ grinned. “Yeah, met a tourist. She’s cool. Gonna show her around today.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and she felt a sudden pang of jealousy that she couldn’t ignore. Of course, JJ would find someone else to hang out with. He always did.

She didn’t say anything, though. Instead, she glanced out the window again, her mind racing. As if on cue, the door to the spare room opened, and a girl Y/N didn’t recognize stepped out. She was smiling, stretching as she made her way toward the kitchen, clearly in no rush to leave.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed instinctively. That was the tourist. The one JJ had been flirting with last night. She felt her chest tighten as the reality of her situation hit her harder than before.

Kiara must have noticed the change in Y/N’s expression because she shot a quick glance between her and JJ. “Everything okay?” she asked softly, but there was an underlying understanding in her voice.

Y/N didn’t trust herself to speak. Instead, she just nodded, trying to hold back the hurt and confusion she was feeling. JJ was already looking toward the door where the girl had gone, clearly not noticing the subtle shift in Y/N’s mood.

But then, he turned to her and noticed her distant expression. He gave her a questioning look, and for a moment, their eyes met. Y/N wasn’t sure what to do with the way his gaze lingered on her—whether it was concern or curiosity—but it only made her feel even more unsure of where she stood.

The awkward silence was broken when Kiara spoke up again, her voice a little firmer than before. “You should talk to him, Y/N. If there’s something you need to say, now’s as good a time as any.”

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest. The words Kiara had just spoken hung in the air, and she felt a surge of emotion bubbling up inside her. She didn’t know what had changed in her since last night, but it was like something inside her had cracked open—something she had kept buried for a long time.

She glanced at Kiara, whose expression was a mix of concern and encouragement. It was like Kiara could see right through her, and in that moment, Y/N realized she didn’t have the luxury of keeping things in anymore. She had to say something. She couldn’t keep playing along like everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N stood up, the muscles in her legs tense. She turned to JJ, who was still lounging on the couch, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing in the room. She had to get this out, had to make him see.

“JJ,” she started, her voice shaky but determined. “Can we talk?”

He looked up, his grin faltering slightly as he met her eyes. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Outside. Now” Y/N and JJ made their way out to the hammock. Taking a step closer, her eyes narrowing as she fought to keep her emotions in check. “What the hell, JJ?” The words slipped out before she could stop them, her frustration and hurt now spilling over.

JJ blinked, clearly taken aback by her tone. “What are you talking about?”

“The way you act like you’re in love with Kiara, but you’ll hook up with anyone who’s not her.” The words were sharper than she meant, but she couldn’t stop them. “It’s like you get to keep her on this pedestal and pretend that she’s the one, but you don’t treat her like that. You treat her like… like she’s just another girl to play with.”

JJ, who had been about to make a joke, suddenly went silent. He straightened up on the couch, his expression turning more serious, but Y/N didn’t let up.

“I’m sick of it,” Y/N continued, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’m sick of being the ‘good girl,’ the one you all forget is… well, a girl. You make these jokes about me, like I don’t care. But I do. I just don’t understand why you keep doing this—acting like you’re so into Kiara when you’re out there with anyone else who shows up. What about her? What about me?” Her breath hitched, the words coming out in a rush.

JJ’s expression shifted from confusion to defensiveness. He leaned forward slightly, running a hand through his messy hair. “Look, Y/N, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, don’t,” Y/N cut him off, her voice rising. “I’m not asking for an apology, I’m asking for you to think for once. Maybe stop acting like you don’t have feelings for Kiara when you clearly do. And maybe, just maybe, think about how I feel when I see you with someone else, acting like I’m just… background noise.”

There was a heavy pause. JJ’s eyes softened slightly, and for a moment, Y/N thought he might say something—anything—to try and fix it. But then he stood up quickly, a nervous laugh escaping his lips as he pushed past her toward the door.

“Look, I’m just trying to have a good time. Maybe you’re overthinking this,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable with the intensity of the conversation.

Y/N’s heart sank. It was like he didn’t even understand what she was saying, like he was so caught up in his own world that he couldn’t even recognize the hurt in hers.

Without another word, Y/N turned on her heel and stormed off, her pulse racing. She didn’t want to be in this space anymore. Didn’t want to feel like this anymore.

As she made her way back to the house, JJ called after her, but Y/N didn’t stop. She needed air. She needed to get away from all of this for a moment.

The front door swung open just as she stepped onto the porch, and she stopped, breathless, seeing the girl from the night before leaving the kitchen with a carefree smile. JJ’s tourist. Y/N felt a bitter sting in her chest as the girl waved goodbye to him before heading out, not even sparing a glance at Y/N.

The jealousy coursed through her, but it was more than that—it was the feeling of being unseen, of not being enough. And in that moment, the weight of it all felt unbearable.

—

Later, Y/N started her shift down at the country club. The rhythmic clinking of glasses and soft hum of the lunch rush kept Y/N focused, the kind of steady routine she needed to distract herself after everything that had gone down last night and this morning. Cleaning the bar, wiping down counters—anything to keep her mind from wandering back to the bonfire and the sting of the Pogues’ comments.

But just as she was about to grab a fresh cloth to wipe the countertop, the door to the club swung open, and in walked Rafe Cameron.

Her eyes widened slightly. Rafe was looking like he’d just had the worst day of his life—frazzled, hair a little more messed up than usual, and his eyes wide with some mix of panic and annoyance.

“Y/N!” Rafe’s voice was a little too loud for the low-key atmosphere of the club, and he made a beeline for the bar. “I need your help. Like, right now.”

Y/N leaned back slightly, trying to hide her grin. “Cameron, here? What’s up? Your dad cut you off already?”

He shot her a look that was somewhere between exasperation and helplessness. “I wish. No, listen, my dad invited me to sit in on some huge business meeting today, right? It’s a big deal, but I—” he glanced down at his pants and then back up at her, “—I spilled coffee all over my pants. It’s bad, Y/N. Really bad.”

Y/N couldn't help herself. She burst out laughing, the image of the Kook prince—immaculate and untouchable—standing there with a coffee stain on his fancy pants was just too much. “You spilled coffee on your pants? Really?”

Rafe scowled, clearly embarrassed but too proud to admit just how serious he was about the whole situation. “This is a huge deal, alright? I’m meeting with some important people, and I can’t go in looking like this. I need help, please.”

Still trying to stifle her giggles, Y/N nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll help you. But you owe me one.” She grabbed a towel and motioned for him to follow her. “Come on, we’re going to the bathroom. We’ll try to clean them up. Don’t get too hopeful.”

“Anything,” Rafe muttered, following her through the back of the club.

The bathroom was quiet, and Y/N could already feel the light tension between them as they stepped inside. She motioned for him to wait by one of the stalls. “Alright, take a seat in there. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Rafe shot her a doubtful look but did as she said, squeezing himself into the stall. Y/N was left with his coffee-stained pants, feeling both amused and slightly sorry for him. The stain was big, but not impossible to fix with some elbow grease.

As she worked on scrubbing the stain out, the silence between them stretched on, and after a while, Y/N broke it with a quiet sigh. “You know, I took your advice last night,” she began, her tone soft, almost uncertain. “The whole ‘don’t hold back’ thing. But… it kind of bombed.”

Rafe’s voice came from the stall, more serious than she expected. “What do you mean? I thought it was good advice.”

Y/N shook her head, her hands still moving over the fabric. “I mean, I told them exactly what I was thinking, and it didn’t go over well. They just made fun of me more. I thought maybe it would feel good to get everything off my chest, but instead, it just made things worse.”

There was a long pause before Rafe finally spoke, his tone softer than she had ever heard it. “I’m sorry. I was drunk, and honestly, I didn’t really think through what I was saying. I guess it’s not as easy as just throwing everything out there without consequences.” He let out a small, almost rueful laugh. “I wasn’t really thinking, was I?”

Y/N smiled slightly, feeling the weight of her own frustrations lift just a little. “No, you weren’t. But it did feel good to be honest, even if the timing was… well, off.” She looked at him over her shoulder, finding him still in the stall, his face partially visible, eyebrows knitted in concern.

“You know, I never really thought about it that way,” Rafe admitted, his voice quieter. “Like, yeah, I’m always the one telling people to do whatever the hell they want. But sometimes you gotta be careful what you say. Especially when it’s about people who matter.”

Y/N felt a flicker of understanding between them—something unspoken but real. “Yeah, I get that.”

She finished cleaning the pants, carefully checking to make sure the stain was almost gone. “Alright, I think we’re good. You might still look like you’re working overtime at a coffee shop, but it’s better than it was.”

Rafe finally emerged from the stall, straightening up and looking down at his pants. He sighed in relief. “You saved me. I owe you one, big time.”

Y/N shrugged, brushing her hands off and turning to face him. “Don’t worry about it. Just—next time, maybe don’t go around giving relationship advice while drunk.” She grinned, teasing him.

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Then, after a beat, he added, “But seriously, thanks. I didn’t think you’d even care to help me with this.”

Y/N smiled back at him, feeling lighter than she had in days. “What are friends for, Rafe?”

—

The evening sun was beginning to fade, casting an orange glow over the island, but Y/N’s shift at the country club wasn’t over just yet. The events of the day had played out in such a whirlwind—Rafe’s unexpected visit, the heart-to-heart they’d shared, and the awkward tension that still lingered between Y/N and the Pogues. It was a strange mix of emotions she couldn’t quite shake off.

She wiped down the bar one last time, scanning the room. The club was quieter now, the steady flow of people dying down as dinner hour approached. She could already feel the exhaustion setting in after an emotionally charged day, but it wasn’t over yet.

The phone behind the counter rang, jolting her out of her thoughts. She answered it quickly, as she always did in the quiet moments.

“Hello?” she asked, her tone soft from the fatigue she’d been carrying all day.

“Y/N?”

Her heart skipped at the familiar voice. It was JJ, and there was something in his voice that made her stomach tighten.

“JJ? Everything okay?” she asked, glancing around the bar to make sure no one needed her attention.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice shaky and strained, like he’d been holding something in for far too long. “My dad… he—he had another outburst. And it was bad, Y/N. Really bad.”

Her chest tightened as she set the rag down on the counter. “JJ… are you alright?”

There was a pause on the other end, and then a sharp, almost hollow laugh. “I’m fine, I guess. Just… it’s the same shit, you know? But this time, I… I don’t know. I just don’t want to be alone right now.”

Y/N’s heart ached for him, the weight of his words settling heavily in her chest. She had seen him at his worst, but she knew how much it meant when he opened up like this.

“I’ll be there in a few,” she said without hesitation. “Just… stay where you are. I’ll come to you.”

“Thanks,” JJ muttered, the relief in his voice barely audible. “I knew I could count on you.”

The line went dead, and Y/N immediately grabbed her bag, rushing to clock out. She wasn’t about to let him go through this alone, not after everything he’d confided in her before. Even if she didn’t know what to say to fix it, she’d be there.

When Y/N arrived at JJ’s house, she wasn’t sure what she’d find. The atmosphere felt different, heavier, as she stood at the front door, glancing at the dim lights flickering through the windows. There was no sign of movement from inside, but she knew he was there. He had to be.

She knocked softly on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet of the evening. The door creaked open, and there stood JJ, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His shirt was wrinkled, his hair messy, and his eyes were bloodshot.

Without a word, he stepped aside, letting her in. The silence that followed spoke volumes—no words needed to be exchanged, as Y/N understood exactly how he was feeling. She had seen this before, the way his father’s outbursts left him fragile and raw. She just didn’t know how much longer he could keep holding it all together.

“Where is he?” Y/N asked, glancing around.

“Out,” JJ muttered, running a hand through his hair. “He left after… after everything. I don’t even know where he went. Doesn’t matter.”

Y/N nodded, understanding that he was just trying to hold himself together. She stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this alone, JJ.”

He looked down at her hand on his shoulder, then back up at her, his eyes searching hers. “I know. I just… I don’t want to drag you into my mess.”

“You don’t get to decide that,” she replied quietly. “We’ve been through too much for me to walk away now.”

JJ let out a shaky breath, then nodded, his eyes lingering on hers for a beat longer than necessary. “I don’t even know how to thank you for always being here. You… you’re the only one who gets it.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. She had always been there for him, but sometimes, it felt like she was the one who needed to be saved. She gave him a small smile. “It’s not about thanks. I’m here because I want to be.”

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. “You’ve been through enough today.”

JJ didn’t argue. He simply nodded, allowing her to guide him toward the small couch where he’d likely been sitting alone, stewing over everything that had happened.

–

The air in JJ’s house was heavy with unspoken thoughts. Y/N had helped him clean up, patched up the immediate mess his father’s outburst had left on him, but the emotional damage was still raw. JJ, sitting on the worn-out couch, looked every bit like a kid who’d seen too much too soon. His shoulders were slumped, his face shadowed by exhaustion, but Y/N knew better than to push him. They’d both been through enough for one day.

She sat down beside him, the room quiet except for the occasional hum of the old fan in the corner. No words were needed right now; sometimes, silence was the best comfort. They didn’t have to say much to understand each other.

Y/N glanced over at him, her voice gentle when she finally broke the silence. “You know, when we were kids, I never imagined things would turn out this way.”

JJ shifted slightly, his eyes downcast. “Yeah, me neither,” he muttered. “But I guess the world doesn’t give a shit about what we imagined, huh?”

Y/N let out a quiet, sad laugh, knowing that was the bitter truth. “Nope. We get what we get, and we have to figure out how to make it work.”

They both sat in the quiet for a moment longer, the weight of everything they’d been through growing heavier. She’d known JJ for so long, seen him go through so much, but tonight it felt different. There was a certain vulnerability in his eyes that hadn’t been there before, something raw and unspoken.

“Did you ever think about leaving?” Y/N asked suddenly, the question hanging in the air before she could stop herself.

JJ met her eyes then, his expression guarded. “I think about it all the time. But I know I’d never make it far. It’s just easier to stay and pretend like it’s all fine.”

Y/N nodded, the truth of his words cutting deeper than she expected. She’d always admired JJ’s ability to keep going, even when everything seemed to be falling apart around him. But she knew, like he did, that sometimes the hardest part was pretending it didn’t hurt.

“I’ve thought about leaving too,” she said quietly, her gaze falling to her hands in her lap. “Not for the same reasons, but… sometimes I wonder if there’s more out there for me than this island. Than everything that’s tied to it.”

JJ’s lips twitched upward in the smallest smile. “You’re one of the only ones I know who can get away from this place, Y/N. You could actually make something of yourself, get outta here.”

Y/N chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe. But every time I think about leaving, I remember that everything I want is right here. Even if it’s all a mess.”

“You really think that?” JJ asked, leaning back slightly, a new kind of curiosity in his voice.

Y/N met his gaze, her tone steady. “Yeah. I think I’ve spent so much time thinking about leaving, I forgot what it means to stay. To fight for something that matters. Even if it's messed up and broken, at least it’s real.”

JJ looked at her for a long moment, his eyes softer than they had been all night. “I get that. I think… Maybe I just don’t know what it means to stay. Not with how things are.”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the words. She’d known about Luke’s temper, the violence that simmered beneath the surface of the man JJ had called father for so long. But she was the only one who knew how bad it really got. The others saw the bruises, the scars, the broken things, but they didn’t know how much of it was a product of a man who couldn’t control his rage.

She sighed, her voice quiet but firm. “You don’t have to carry this alone, JJ. I’m here. You know that, right?”

JJ glanced at her, the walls he’d built up over the years starting to crack. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. Instead, he just nodded, as if the weight of everything was finally getting to him. He let out a breath, a shaky laugh escaping him.

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N smiled, though the ache in her chest didn’t fade. She knew she was the only one who truly understood what he was going through. And maybe, just maybe, that’s what kept her coming back—being the one person who could hold the pieces together, even when everything seemed to fall apart.

JJ shifted slightly, his tone quieter now. “You ever wish you could’ve had a different childhood? A different family?”

Y/N let the question sit for a moment, knowing it wasn’t easy to admit. She leaned back against the couch, thinking back to her own complicated relationship with her parents. It wasn’t as bad as his, but it had never been simple either. They’d always been distant, more focused on their own lives than on her. She shrugged, her voice soft.

“I think about it sometimes. I wonder if things would’ve been different if they’d been different. But then I remember… you and me, and the way we survived this island. Maybe that’s all we need. To survive.”

JJ let out a dry laugh, the humor in his voice soft and weary. “Yeah. We’re good at surviving.”

The silence stretched between them, and Y/N realized they were both carrying the weight of things they couldn’t change. But at least they had each other. At least they had someone who understood. And for tonight, that would have to be enough.

Eventually, JJ shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of them. He laid back, his head resting against the worn fabric, while Y/N curled up beside him as they’d done when they were kids. The tension in the room, in both of their hearts, started to ease as they settled into the familiar rhythm of being together—no words needed, just the warmth of shared history and unspoken understanding.

Eventually, JJ shifted on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of them. He laid back, his head resting against the worn fabric, while Y/N curled up beside him as they’d done when they were kids. The tension in the room, in both of their hearts, started to ease as they settled into the familiar rhythm of being together—no words needed, just the warmth of shared history and unspoken understanding.

As the night grew darker, Y/N felt the weight of her eyelids heavy, the exhaustion from the day, from everything, creeping in. It had been a hard day, a hard week, but for now, in the quiet of JJ’s house, with him by her side, it felt like they were just two kids again—no worries, no pain, just the comfort of each other’s presence.

“Hey, Y/N?” JJ whispered into the stillness, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah?” she murmured, her eyes already half-shut.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a sleepy smile, her voice soft as she responded, “Same, JJ. Same.”

And with that, they both drifted into a peaceful, familiar sleep, the kind that only comes when you know, deep down, that no matter how hard life gets, you’ll always have each other.

Before fully drifting off, Y/N thought to herself, Once we graduate... we’re leaving. Together. No more broken families, no more staying behind. And with that, they both let the quiet of the night pull them under, dreaming of the future they would build away from the island and all that had hurt them.

And with that, they both drifted into a peaceful, familiar sleep, the kind that only comes when you know, deep down, that no matter how hard life gets, you’ll always have each other.

---

Next up: a return to how it was, more or less

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87

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A/N: last one for night.. wish me luck for my presentation in the morning!!!!

[darkdemeter]

・issue #1・ KNOW YOUR RHYTHM

⚤ Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Dance choreo! Female Reader Mafia related topics — some profanity — mention of blood and violence and stuff — mob boss Bucky who just thirsts for reader HARD — bit a spice and flirting — I think that's it? ✎ 5.6k He is the king of crime, the one mob boss nobody wants to mess with. Funny how you end up here, hired as a dance choreographer for his new club. It was meant to be a simple paycheck, nothing more. But Bucky Barnes, the big bad mafia boss, wants you.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

 You’re too stubborn to retire the rhythm and hang up those dancing shoes. No, you fight for what’s yours, that’s how you were brought up, and you committed so much to lead this life to escape another that loomed over with a darkened destiny. 

  Even then you had your limits. Though it seems those limits would be tested as of today. A promise that undoubtedly falls in the blurring of lines. 

  “The Crimson Star Nightclub,” you say with a click of your tongue that audibly pops on the other end of the call. “In… that territory of New York.” 

  You swear you can feel her grimace of regret through the phone.

  “I know, I know! I’m sorry, I just— I told him that you’d just be perfect for the job.” Your friend and student wasn’t pleading herself a forgivable case here, you scowl outwardly as you toss your bag atop the nearby railing, sifting through its contents for a moment.

  “I taught you everything I know, babes, why’re you struggling?”

  She’s silent for a minute before she groans, “I just don’t have what it takes to teach, like you do. You’ve got the drive for it! C’mon, he’s willing to pay triple your usual rates. Besides… I’m kinda scared he’ll kill, gut and dump my body over a bridge if you don’t come.”

  That last point shakes you more than you’d like but you quickly dismiss the arrival of dread that falls on your shoulders. You grapple your wallet from your bag and begin to hail a taxi, a gloved hand raised high, the familiar fluorescent yellow swerving to a stop at the curb with a screeching frictional drag of its tires. “What’s the address?”

  She’s smiling, you just know it as she rains down a thousand thank you’s, her heels clapping loudly in the background. 

  Pulling up to the joint made your stomach turn over a hundred times. Exiting the cab, your heeled boot scrubs against the pavement with a leathery rumble as you take in the building. A big establishment from its outward appearance. Peeling off the cover of your sunglasses, you study the freshly reinstated brickwork absolved of any form of gang graffiti. A havenous roofing overheads the entrance where guests would line up in wait with complimenting stanchions. 

  Atop the two – or maybe three story – building is the unlit title, Crimson Star Lounge and Nightclub, and the most flattering of all: a giant red star with a blackened silhouette of what you believe to be either a nude or lingerie clad woman sat within on an invisible seat of some kind. 

  With a hum, you bet a personal wager against yourself that the neon sign’s simple display would articulate the upper leg that hangs over her other to kick up as she arches herself back, accentuating her body more.

  You cannot help but chuckle to yourself. Oh, you’re definitely in for a treat you shouldn’t have let yourself be lured in by. 

  You walk up to the entrance where a large hulk of a man stands idle, his long, blonde hair tied back and out of his face, his browline shifts awkwardly to frown at you behind a thick layer of facial hair. Gruffly, with a low baritone, he speaks. “Club’s not open yet, sweetheart, and we’re full on resumes. Come back in a few months.”

  With a fashionable tilt of your head, a smirk presses into the corner of your lips as you grin.   “Oh, I know you’re not. The star girl doesn’t have her legs spread open for business.”

  From the ease that follows his features with a bashful grin to boot, you continue, “A girl named Tam is inside? She called me, asked me to come and meet the big boss man for a potential dance choreographer job.”

  He grins a pearly smile at you. “A woman with your attitude, he’s gonna have no choice but to give you the job. Right this way, Miss.”

  He steps aside and gestures with a muscular arm for you to continue in and with a curt nod of your head, you stalk down the dimly lit hall until you reach the wide expanse of the club.   An elevated platform is guarded by a railing of dark steel to oversee the ground level, the second floor is cut off some feet away from the T shaped stage. Along the back wall that’s closer to your right shelters a pristine, obsidian marble counter with a set of modernised saloon doors behind, leading off into what you assume to be a backbar. 

  It appears that the second floor acts as some sort of VIP section with the barely visible wall of booths pinning into the wall in an orderly fashion, a few booths decorating the first floor and located closer to the bar, the remaining space reserved for the dance floor and tables. 

  Already you begin to piece together the potential air and radiance the club is looking to create, but it helps your workload when asking whoever is in charge what it is they’re trying to achieve. 

  The brighter, overhead lights blare down to make life and work in the dark a tad more tolerable, so employees shuffling around, going about their duties, many don’t spare so much as a third glance your way much to your relief. The last thing you need is anyone recognising you from your prior glory days. 

  Falling into a slow crawl of a stride as you explore your new surroundings, your potential new work space, a voice is sudden to drawl over the glassy rim of an auburn-hued shiver on the tongue, ice swaying with a chorus of clinks. “Club’s closed, sweet—”

  “Alright, I can’t make the same comment twice. I’ve got a thing about repeating myself.”

  That comeback rings as a shocker through the atmosphere. Turning himself to press his side into the counter, glass in hand, you take in the numerous glimmers of gold adorning his fingers, one of which tells of who exactly this man was. What he was.

His chin dips down to peer over the tint of his glasses. “Sharp. I like it. What’d you want?”

  You take a step forward, head craning to look around you before you turn back to the man, plucking your gloves off your hands to discard them into your bag. “Sightseeing clubs that aren’t open,” you scoff, “I’m looking for the boss of the joint. Tam’s voucher.”

  His shoulders rise and roll back, most likely sensing the cutting way you get right to it through your charade of jest. He flashes you a grin. “You’re funny. Tony Stark, pleasure to meet you.”

  He extends his hand forward and you reach to shake it, your throat scratchy and dry from even looking at the ring on his pinky and its embossed insignia. Tucking his hand away into the pocket of his dress pants, he cocks his head awry. “The boss is kinda in a meeting right now.”

  Your lashes flutter in a flurry, eyes rolling skyward into your skull with an exasperated sigh. 

“Do you guys get off to wasting a girl’s time? Honestly, that’s what makes it harder to please us in this day and age.” 

  “I have my ways.” 

  His voice is a fine contour, rich and smooth, you cannot help the chill from running up your spine. Your heel pivots and your body follows, hands situated on your hips as your chin tilts up and up to meet the fiercest pair of winter blue eyes you’ve ever seen. A layer of dark stubble hides little of the smirk plastered on his pink, soft lips as he leans, arms straight and pressed to the railing until his muscles beneath his flex and the veins in his rough hands budge. 

  “Are you the big boss I’ve heard so much about?”

  His cheeks flex under the weight of his thinned smile and nods. “The one and only, dollface.”

  Shaking yourself from momentary stun, you face to realise that the club’s owner was the top mob boss of New York himself. Of course Tam had to bury you six feet in this mess. It had been bad enough that the establishment itself resided in mob territory. Now, as it turns out, the mob king himself owns the place. And your possible contract and paycheck. 

  How fucking fitting. 

  “Right so… what’s the big idea? Tam said something about you needing a choreo instructor.”

  You almost find the way his lips pull to reveal a row of pearly teeth endearing. Almost. You dare not forget who you’re talking with. 

  “Yes, she said you’d be coming.” You don’t miss the way his words care to articulate the words, their enunciation versed with a seductive purr. You scoff at the comment that fails to filter his lewd mind. Still, he has one hell of a smile that can surely make any woman swoon.

Though you don't very much care to be one of those women. You much prefer to stay very much away from that. From him.

  “She told me you were her dance teacher and that you’re the best of the best. Showed me a few demo tapes of your work.”

  You give a simple shrug of your shoulders to ease the flush that rises in your blood. “And?”

  He moves like a wolf on the prowl and maybe because he very much is. Your eyes watch him with careful calculation, the way the bulk of his body swaggers down from his throne on high to meet you on the bottom level. 

  “I’d like to take her word for it and take you on,” he rumbles lowly. 

  His eyes rake up and down your body slowly, undoubtedly sizing you up like a meal. The waft of his cologne is powerful, a stern odour of expensive luxuries only affordable by his wallet. It overpowers your sense of smell like some love spell that you find half a mind to tilt your axis away from his reach; now beginning to worry that those illustrious women draped on his arm in printed magazines and articles may have been victims to a fling they were entrapped by. 

  You have to keep your posture strong and sure to recover from that relapse, however, given that your action may be interpreted as weakness. These men thrive and feed off weakness. He extends a hand forward. “Bucky Barnes. But I get the feeling you already knew that.”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  Nevertheless, you take his hand and shake it, reluctantly giving him yours in return. He tastes it for the first time and, by the way his tongue runs below the risen quirk of his lip, revealing his incisor, enjoys the way it rolls off. 

  You walk with him as he shows you around the club and accommodates you with the knowledge of how he wants this little business joint to succeed in its intended market. You meet the girls who would be under your charge, your attitude taking a noticeable shift from its standoffish tone to one much lighter, friendlier in terms of interacting with the dancers. 

  Returning back to the main stage and dismissing the girls off, Bucky turns to you, broadly puffed out from chest to shoulders that the suit strains slightly against the expanse of muscle. 

  “Right, I’ll need to browse around for a hirable studio and give you the info to give the dancers,” you note first and foremost, running your hand over your mouth, your demeanour now lessened and eased into one more befitting of contemplation. Bucky can see and even admire the spark of dedication to the job in your eyes.

  “Can you pull it off?” 

  You gasp, a tad and touch higher in your defence than you should have let on. But ultimately, you meet the dark, playful challenge in his raised brow and wicked smirk. 

  “Outstandingly so for the interesting logo for the club.”

  “Ooh,” he winces behind pursed lips, “tell me what you really think.”

  Tongue unsheathing from your cheek, you turn to face him, stepping forward one step and then another, standing barely chest to chest with him. The fog of his cologne is a whirlwind intending to knock you loose of your inhibitions. You thinly smile through it. “Well, it certainly follows the saying.”

  His brows move higher to his forehead, almost cocky that you don’t fall into betraying yourself and believing he means anything sincere as he asks coolly, “what saying would that be?”

  And quickly you answer, “sex — or the appeal of it — sells.”

  His face leans in closer until his lips hover over yours some inches away, invading the presence of personal space, uncaring to the way your body goes rigid; caught in fight or flight mode, knowing damn well between the two of you that you’re stuck and fucked by either response. “And just how much do you sell for, I wonder.”

  His words are soft, low and oh-so laced to be seductive. The striking allure of those blues moving to take in every aspect of your features as if to engrain them into his memory. 

 Just before he can ever dream of letting his lips close in any more, you take initiative and move back, flaunting a huff that eases his ego down, his features faltering visibly right before your eyes. 

  “I’ll send you an invoice tonight, Mr Barnes…” Your words inspire hope within him as he slowly grins, only to fall. “But don’t excite yourself. I don’t mix business with pleasure.” 

 You send yourself off in the direction of the exit with a measured wave, but his words leave with you and have your stomach in a strange flutter. 

 “You sure? Because I see potentially a lot of pleasure in this contract.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

  It’s cruel to watch you, knowing that this is your last rehearsal with the girls. After this, the doors will promise an opening night to remember. But if you’ve given any hints, you don’t exactly intend on seeing it. 

  And for Bucky, that is just plain torture for him. Over the past three months, you have been working your pretty arse off creating a whole show routine, expertly weaving the backbone of the club’s entertainment and allocating the playlist to fit the atmosphere Bucky and his club managers wanted. 

  Lounging in the VIP section, the raised loft that oversaw the club’s dance floor, stage and regulars bar, Bucky still cannot take his eyes off of you. Why of all nights did you have to go racing off to another job so soon? He had paid you generously, far more than any hired choreographer could ever dream of, and yet that still didn’t seem enough to convince you. He hovers like a shadow, leaning to the dark steel railing, his ring-lined fingers drum against the dark steel as he contemplates his next move. 

  He barely pays any mind to his captains who take their place in the sleek, refined office that are the booths, sipping at their drinks and chatting about the club’s interests and rates. Shit that he tunes out. He can’t focus on anything when you move like that, your body arching this way and that; sinful and cause for impossible. But you prove him wrong. There are many positions he’s fantasised taking you in mid rehearsal. And once, when it was just the two of you in the club during a routine practice, he almost had the chance. But it – you – slipped right through his fingers.

  Your body is pulled into the music itself. A process many seem to struggle with, but for you, it’s as easy as breathing. At first, it’d been a gamble of who to hire for the job, now Bucky cannot dream of regretting choosing you. Renowned as a star dancer, you’re credited with awards from around the globe, in solos, duos and exceeding the numbers. Competition after competition, your name became well known. Your prodigy, dear little Tammy, had been a resourceful source that he later forwarded onto his boys, ordering them to dig up more information about you. 

  A nasty red line was found in your record, as Bucky had his men find, and though the exact details are still unknown to him, it’s given him an indicator that something hit rock bottom. Some time afterwards, however, you resurfaced as a dance choreographer. 

  And if you were still the best of the best, then he’d take you for the job. But now, he wants you for good. Dressed to the nines in outfits he’s spent on all his cards, riding to events together and having the envy of every man and woman’s eyes upon you. Hell, he’s already contemplated the venue and diamond ring. All he needs now is that chance you refute at every turn.

  “Chins forward, eyes open,” you call in correction, gaze set straight ahead of you in the midst of a spinning twirl before planting your heeled stiletto hard into the stage floor with a resounding boom. 

  Bucky’s eyes trail then upwards, the dark colour of your pantyhose hiding your skin that he’s desperate to bruise and leave his fingerprints on. His fingers curl harshly into the railing while his eyes continue to admire while simultaneously undress you, your body hugged in a very form-admiring bodysuit. 

  Dropping down low with the girls following suit, your hips move on beat with the music, grinding into the floor. That, of all moves, is when you make the grave mistake in glancing up at a striking pair of blue eyes, dark in their passionate longing and so bright you’re quick to force your eyes away. 

  But not before you flashed him a toothy smile. A smile that kills him every time. Heat rushes through your veins and rises higher into the surface of your skin, in your core it feels electric with pulsating need, but you carry on with the routine, to save face from what Bucky Barnes did to you. Unbeknownst to you at this moment of what you did to the mob boss, he groans at the tightness surrounding his clothed cock as you rock your hips back and forth, suggestive in your choreographed manner. But so dismissive in how it affects him greatly and his ability to conduct business. 

  No. You can’t let yourself fall into that sort of mess again. Focus. Rolling onto your back, your back arches so beautifully off the floor, it almost has Bucky gasping. The pointed pink of his tongue’s tip darts out to wet his lips. 

  Completely and utterly mesmerised by your rhythm, he growls like a feral animal when Steve’s voice interjects his still continuing list of how he plans to ruin you and save you.

  Now at the end of your routine, you wave for Torres to cut the music and your shoulders fall heavily with an exerted sigh.

  “Good work, girls,” you applaud with your friendly smile, clapping for their efforts. The girls in turn repay your praise with bashful smiles and compliments of your mentorship. 

  You had this way with people, and especially those under your study, you were kind and playful but remained an air of professionalism to ensure your students or your time wasn’t wasted. 

  Bucky feels his skin crawl and his heart drop a thousand yards into his stomach. From the lavish watch strapped to his wrist, he inspects the time. End of rehearsal. End of your contract with him. 

  “Well, they learnt from the best.” Your head turns fast, vision momentarily blurred, there again is that feeling - that spell - he has you under as he saunters down the stairs and towards the stage where you stood, hands pressed idly into your hips. 

  His tongue runs over his teeth, groaning inwardly as his eyes sink and rise in study of your entire form. He could see you being his queen. You’ve a powerful stance, that much he can see, and you possess a quality that has the attention of anyone and everyone on you. A commanding presence. 

  “You’re too kind, Mr. Barnes.” Your cheeks redden more. Praise from your clients always makes your heart flutter with adoration and joy. For them to express their gratitude in the ways they do, it’s good to know you have succeeded in your job. 

  But when Bucky praises you, you become a giddy girl that gushes and yearns to hear more. He sees the way your face shifts to reflect that professionalism, all to hide the reality of what he does to you; what he could do to you if you just gave him the chance. 

  “I could be much kinder, doll.” His voice has lowered into a velvety purr, the callous massage of his fingers shoot a blaze of electricity through the thin fabric of your pantyhose and into your skin like ice, a simple touch over your calf, teasing you further as his palm encloses around you as well, sliding up and down gently. Despite your position above him, a sight he’ll never grow tired off, his up-tilted chin reaches level just below your stomach. Right at the apex of something dangerous. He sees the inner turmoil of conflict flash in your eyes, a battle he’s sure he can win if he plays his cards just right. 

  “VIP access tonight to start?”

  You scoff, shaking your head. But the furrow in your brows betrays your true, raw disappointment. You can’t hide it. Not from him. “I can’t. I have an early flight tomorrow.”

  And just like that, you refuse him yet again. His bottom lip rolls in and over his teeth, tongue pushing hard against the thickened fold of intruding skin in his internal flare of anger, eyes darkening with a single promise he cannot keep; because he can’t have you to make it. You attempt to step back only for his hand to curl tighter around your ankle, keeping you in place.

  “Make an exception this one time for me.”

  Your eyebrows crease between the middle, a frown tugging your lips into an unamused sneer as you tug at your leg that Bucky refuses to let go. 

  “Mr. Barnes, this is extremely unprofessional—”

  “Your contract has expired. We can be as unprofessional as we want. No consequences. No regrets.” He coats his words heavily with a honey of seduction. One that is awfully tempting… one you must deny. 

  You swear this man would kiss the ground you walk upon if you asked him to. Would paint and drown the streets red with blood if you wished it. And that’s what frightens you. Beneath those adoring pools of blue hide a darkness to a world you seek escape from, therein his eyes hides the nature of a killer who’s not only dangerous to those who cross him because of who he is as a man; but also dangerous because of you. 

  You know that love — and lust — are a powerful motivator to a man. It can and will make him do anything. The impossible, the reckless and the most horrid of things. 

  No matter how softly he pleads, you must not say yes…

  His head tilts ever so slightly to the side, streaking locks of dark brown fall loosely to frame over his brow, highlighting an innocence that isn’t there. You pull your leg away again and he allows you to leave him though with the exception of those eyes faltering from yours. Like a kicked puppy.

  “I’ll come tonight. We’ll need to talk about my payment before I leave.”

  There it is, that bright spark in his ocean hues again, a grin pulls his lips wide that battling a smile of your own causing your lips to quiver is half won. Hopping down from the stage his eyes follow after you, watching you gather your belongings, your sights meet one another and he nods to you.

  “See you tonight, beautiful.”

  Scoffing with a shake of your head, this time that smile graces your lips wholly and Bucky feels the air in his lungs flatline. What he would give, who he would kill to see that smile forever on your face. 

  “Right. Tonight. See you then, Mr. Barnes.”

  How you say his name in a manner of such proprietary has him a certain way, but what often has him throbbing and hard is the thought of you moaning his name, skin hot in a sweaty flush pressed to his as he has you on the verge of climactic euphoria and promising that you will be his, that you will never leave his side. He’s left only to his imagination of how you would sound, how you would feel around his hard and thick cock, in his strong and passionate grip that would never let you go — let you falter. 

  He wants you so badly it’s driving him insane. 

  Bucky takes the time to admire your form that currently flees for now, but soon enough he guarantees otherwise, paying particular attention to the wondrous body of your arse right before you pull your coat over your shoulders. 

  He pulls out his phone from his suit pocket and with a few minor taps of his thumb, he holds it to his ear, the receiver on high alert to his order.

  “Get her ticket reimbursed and have the jet on standby, just in case.”

  If you had known he’d send a car to pick you up, you’d have thought twice on a decision you should have said no to at the very beginning. From your seat, you eye the neon title and star, indeed the female figure doing just as you thought. A provocative display to allure its target audience. Right on command, Sam arrives, strutting out from the main doors to your door and pulls it open for your exit. The once dark tinted window shielding you from the envious stares of those stuck to line up on the velvety carpet. 

  “Looking good, princess. C’mon in, Bucky’s waiting for ya.”

  “Thanks, Sam.” 

Sam’s allegiances may have set prejudice to keep you from trusting him or any of the other boys under Bucky’s command, but he was kind and attentive to you the more he saw you around his boss and the club premises. 

  You do well to keep your eyes forward and your focus straight, ignoring the few whispers of a gaggle of women clad in colourful, sparkling cocktail dresses, dolled up faces contorted into spiteful sneers as Thor granted you unrestrained access much to the shagrin of the female pack whining and complaining. 

  You weren’t here for the explicit pleasures that they were after on the inside. You’re strictly here to see what it was you accomplished, hoping that these business partners of Bucky will be entertained by the routine and show you poured hours of soul and heart into, then collect your paycheck and leave. That’s it. 

  Sam commands to part the crowd ahead of you, allowing you a clear path and direction up the stairs to the upper floor, smirking and ushering you off when you press him with a sceptical raise of your brow. But at his insistence that you don’t fall into the same category as the guests, you head on up, climbing each milestone with a heeled step that draws you possibly closer to the very man who you cannot seem to get away from. 

  Atop the stairs and rounding along the railside, you press your stomach to, overseeing the crowd below, streaks of red lights beaming from the rafters above to illuminate the dark, sensual aura of the club, the music a thriving beat as the dancers on stage perform their routine. 

  Life on the stage… there are days where you miss it. With a drag of a sigh parting your lips, you straighten a little from having leant on the railing a little during the show. Your body bristles instantly as something large and warm presses into your back, almost nuzzling the diamond cut out of skin, his long arms coming into view to cage you between him and the cold steel, his hands rest over your own. 

  “Glad to see you made it,” he hums deeply against the curve of your ear, nose gentle to nuzzle against your neck. “My business partners love the show, they’ve been asking for you.”

 “Trying to drum up business for me, Mr Barnes?” you muse with a pout, voice offering a sickly sweet mockery of appreciation only for him to snort and direct you towards the booths where several men sat within a cloud of cigar smoke and breath of pure alcohol.

  “Gentlemen, this is the woman I was telling you about.” He introduces you and your hand traverses into numerous exchanges of hand shakes as you greet each of them.

  “Have to say, little lady, your vision for performance is immaculate,” a man of rounder physique appraises with a grin, half burnt cigar jammed between two fat digits and his dark brown eyes sparkling with hopeful aspiration for your future. 

  “Pray tell that Bucky will allow us to perhaps offer you a longer term contract?” His question ends with the butt of his cigar popped into the o of his mouth and huffing.

  It hits you like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour, your jaw unhinges only to clamp shut, bouncing between the motion as you tend to this new revelation. “I–I uh…” Eyes glancing to Bucky who stands at your side, chest puffed out with a smirk twisted into his lips, he cocks his brows at you. 

   “A kind offer but I have another job already lined up in Chicago. It’ll conflict too much, I’m afraid.”

  The men hum and sigh in their disappointment but offer you wishes, the man then plucks a card from a silver plate box and slides it towards you. “Of course. I admire your commitment to prior contracts. But don’t hesitate to call us if you change your mind. Mr. Barnes here has put in a good word for you.”

  “Oh, has he?” You draw the words slowly with care, but the hint of suspicion has Bucky’s eyes pinned to yours for a moment until he looks to the men, bidding them to excuse him a moment as he takes to lead you away from their table. 

  Once in the private hallway that leads to Bucky’s office, your words choke behind a scoff, “What the hell was that all about? I– I told you, I have a flight to catch tomorrow and– Bucky this is too much, even for someone like you, to give to someone like me.”

  He leads you to the door and opens it, beckoning you to enter before shutting the door promptly behind you both. All you can do is watch the broad span of his back as he struts over to his desk, merely gesturing a hand for you to sit. 

  “Doll, check your bank account.” 

  The way his voice maintains a firm timbre almost spawns concern to spur you to run out that office and never look back, but you do as he says, checking your bank account. Your eyes blink widely. 

  “My ticket! Bucky you—”

  “You deserve better than living in some slum studio apartment, living to survive on paycheck to paycheck,” he rasps hoarsely as if the words and very idea of your situation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, he continues, “A forty-five grand monthly salary to start, upgraded living in a penthouse and a licensed studio all of your own and signed to your name.”

  A poisonous drought covers your tongue and coats your throat, your eyes peer down at the white card, font pristinely spaced and organised, minimally professional. Bucky faces you now after having realise that you didn’t sit down upon his request – or what you assume order. Your eyes then raise to glower at him, narrowing sharply. 

  “And your agenda behind this?”

  Can you trust the way his brows relax, bending to curve in a manner of sympathy as he reaches you, chest to chest and his calloused palms come to hold your jaw between them, nursing in his hand the one thing he desires above all else. 

  His head bows lower until his lips graze over yours, causing your breath to hold and you feel the form of his lips curl into a small grin and with a hum he connects the kiss. At first he is gentle to test the waters until he is consumed by that fire, heat ensuing to take hold of the kiss, he groans lowly like a ravenous animal. 

  Your stomach turns into knots and your thighs push together when the threat of arousal pools between them, a gasp teetering on your voice, your own lips meeting his as your hands manoeuvre over the curvature of his muscles that tense beneath you. The kiss grows hotter, heat forces its way to burn in your lungs like embers and ash searing the fabric of your soul that when you pull apart, your chest expands to brush against his as you breathe deeply. 

  “Be my girl, doll. Be m—”

  You cut him off with the delicate pillar of your index finger as he intends to sweep in for another kiss. You know for sure that if you allowed him, you would agree to his terms. 

  That cannot happen. 

  You pull yourself away from him until your distance pits your back against the office door, hands lingering on the knob and twist. His  hands that once held the apex of your hips flush to his body fall to clench at his sides. You still choose to refuse him yet again.  “Sorry, Barnes… but mama always told me, papa always warned me, don’t hang around with boys like you.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, Seeing the responses on the original post was really cool and I’m glad to finally put this simple brain concoction of mine into a fully written fic.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @mostlymarvelgirl @hollyseb @sebastianstansqueen @openup-yourmind @kandis-mom @calwitch @cjand10 @identity2212 @ashdoctor @missmarvelophilic @boobsbeesbongos @blackhawkfanatic

[rabesbabe]

Silver Soul

Jackie Taylor x Fem!Reader

part one part two ➴ part three

A/N: Hii thanks for the love on part one ! This is part two and i’ll probably make one more part after this <3

Summary: Jackie starts sending you mixed signals and you struggle to keep up with her. (shitty description ik shh)

-

Students fill the classroom groggily walking over to their desks. You and Taissa always talk in homeroom and today you wanted to get her advice on Jackie.

“Do you even know if she’s gay?” Taissa asks.

You look down at your book bag. “Well no, I mean she didn’t even know I was.”

Taissa laughs. “Yeah she’s definitely straight. A blind person would know you were gay just based off your voice.” She says, poking fun at you.

“You’re the worst.” You joke back to Taissa.

“But seriously, the hardest part of it all is that before last week she barely crossed my mind and now, I can’t stop thinking about her.” You sigh.

Just as Taissa was about to add on to the conversation, you feel a weight on your desk in front of you.

At the front of your desk stood Jackie, flashing her gorgeous smile.

“Good morning!” She said in her normal chirpy voice. Taissa looks between you and her puzzled. “Who are you guys talking about?” Jackie asks, having overhead a little bit of you guys conversation.

You look at Taissa silently pleading for her to help you. You were the worst at lying and Taissa could win a medal in it if she wanted to.

“No one that interesting.” Taissa says, lying. “You’re so dressed up today Jackie.” She adds on, attempting to change the subject

Jackie was wearing a skirt with a plaid pattern on it. Her pink sweater was tucked into the skirt and Taissa was right she did seem to be more dressed up than usual.

“Yeah you are,” You add. “You look good though.” You say as you look Jackie up and down checking out her outfit.

She smiles at your words and a deep blush spreads across her face.

“Thank you, You look good too.” She reaches over to you and lightly runs her fingers through your hair for a second. Backing away she says, “You always look good though.” She moves off your desk and winks at you before walking away leaving you a flustered mess.

You turn your gaze to Taissa who’s just looking at you with a knowing eyebrow.

“I’m not crazy right?” You say. “She’s flirting with me?”

“No, definitely not crazy.” Taissa laughs out.

The rest of the day was a blur you tried to avoid Jackie knowing you’d just embarrass yourself if she spoke to you. It was easy to avoid her in the classes you shared and in the halls. But, at practice it would be more of a challenge.

-⚽️-

You were dreading practice all day today. Usually, it was a place for you to clear your mind. But the one reason your mind wasn’t clear just happened to be there.

Before practice, you were walking out of the locker room with Nat laughing at some dumb joke she made about Randy Walsh. She had started talking to him recently and couldn’t stop making jokes about how much of a weirdo he was. Which happens to be exactly her type.

Watching you laugh at Natalie’s jokes, Jackie glares at Nat from across the field. She couldn’t help but wonder if you and Nat were a thing. Ever since what you told her yesterday she was curious. You guys were always together and you seemed to think whatever she was saying was the funniest thing in the world. She didnt know why she cared so much but she did.

During practice the team had a scrimmage against each other. Jackie formed the teams and of course she put you on her team. You were already nervous about being next to her on the field after almost knocking her out about a week ago. All you could do was pray it would be fine.

-⚽️-

The end of the scrimmage was nearing. The teams were tied 2-2. Whoever scored next would win.

Van, who was on your team, stole the ball from Shauna and ran towards Lottie to pass the ball to her. Lottie missed the ball and at the last second you ran in-front of Laura lee who almost caught it. You maneuvered the ball away from her causing her to trip. You ran downfield towards the goal and took the shot. And shockingly enough, you made it.

When the ball went in Coach Ben blew his whistle and yelled, “Game! Jackie’s team: Wins.”

Jackie ran over to you and basically tackled you into a hug.

“Jesus Y/N! How the hell did you make that shot?” Still in her arms she looked at you smiling.

You smiled back at her, her hair was stuck to her face from sweat and she was slightly flushed from running. But, she still looked pretty as ever. It was almost annoying that she could still look so beautiful after a full practice.

“To be honest I didn’t think I would.” You say, laughing.

Jackie pulls away from you but leaves her arm around your shoulders. You both walk over to get water.

“I’m glad I put you on my team today.” She giggles out.

You nod, “Me too.”

-⚽️-

After practice, while changing in the locker room you were talking to Nat, as usual, about tonight. There was a Halloween party and you and Nat were trying to pick out your outfits.

“Maybe I could be like a pirate or something?” You say, lacing up your shoes.

“That’s pretty cute actually.” Nat agrees. “And on brand, you steal people’s shit in real life too.”

Rolling your eyes you interject, “That was one time, and I was twelve.”

“Are you guys going to the party together?” You hear a voice behind you say. Turning around you see Jackie’s hazel eyes looking between you and Nat questioningly.

“Uh yeah, I guess” Nat says nonchalantly. “I mean I’m driving her there. I always do though.” She explains.

“Oh, okay I’ll see you guys there then.” Jackie says, sounding a little bit disappointed.

As she walks away you notice her look back at you and she gives you a tiny smile before disappearing behind the wall to the way outside.

“Did she sound upset or was it just me?” You question turning to look at Nat.

Nat just shrugged. “Maybe she wanted to go with you. She has been oddly close to you recently. I mean the way she hugged you after you scored on a Scrimmage? C’mon man.” Nat explained, enunciating the word scrimmage.

Your face contorts with confusion at Nats words. Did Jackie really like you? She couldn’t right? I mean you guys had just started to become friends like a week ago after what happened at practice. Maybe you were just overthinking everything and Jackie was like this with everyone.

She was naturally charming and you were probably just reading over everything wrong.

You drove home from practice that day and didn’t stop for coffee. You just wanted to get home and take a nap before the party. Life was too confusing.

-⚽️-

You’d been at the party for about an hour now. You had been dancing, drinking and doing anything and everything to get Jackie off your mind. Everything was so loud. Halloween music was blasting and you could barely hear anything.

You were dressed in a pirate costume like you planned. It was a tight white dress with a black corset and long boots. The dress barely reached your knees and you wore a red bandana on your head with an eyepatch. You might’ve been dressed a little bit skimpy but it was Halloween, so was every other girl on the planet.

You look over to the couch with Natalie sitting on it talking to Randy.

“I’m gonna grab another drink!” You say practically, yelling over the music so Nat would understand what you meant. She didn’t react to anything you had said. Either the music was too loud or she was too focused on Randy.

You push through the crowds of people struggling to stay upright and finally find the kitchen.

You grab a cup and pour yourself a beer. You were honestly struggling to hold the cup right. To say you were tipsy might be a little bit of an understatement.

“Here to steal my gold?” You hear a familiar voice say. Jackie was standing next to you dressed as Tatum from Scream. You were shocked you weren’t drooling because of how hot she looked.

Your brain finally processes her joke and you laugh a little bit. “Nah, I like your costume though very hot!” You say, still yelling over the music.

Jackie was definitely just as drunk as you, if not more. It was pretty late into the night and she looked like she had been here for about 2 hours already.

Continuing to pour your drink you suddenly feel a wet splash across your chest. “Bitch!” You hear Jackie yell at a girl behind her. The girl shoved her into you causing her to spill her drink all over your costume. “I’m so sorry Y/N!” Jackie slurs out looking like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

“It’s okay!” You say, you were too drunk to really care. Jackie grabs your hand and drags you through the crowd. You absentmindedly followed her too distracted by her warm touch to think about where you were going.

You both walk into a bathroom with Jackie closing the door behind you. The bathroom wasn’t very big and your heart was beating out of your chest at the proximity to Jackie.

She wet a paper towel and started to wipe at your chest. Jackie was so focused on getting the stain she caused out, she didn’t realize how close she was to you. You guys were basically sharing breaths at this point.

“It’s almost out, I think?” Jackie says meeting your eyes. Hers go wide for a second as she realizes your distance. Your breathing was labored and your cheeks a deep shade of crimson. You both stood there for a moment. Both trying to understand what the other was thinking. Just before you were going to lean in, Jackie backed away plopping herself down on the bathroom floor.

Her eyes avoided yours as you sat down next to her.

You both just sat there for a minute until she blurted out, “So are you and Nat like, Y’know?”

You scrunched your eyes together hoping she wasn’t suggesting what you thought she was. “Actually no, I don’t know. Are we what?”

Almost mockingly she looks over at you as if what she was saying wasn’t obvious. “Like, dating…”

You widen your eyes at her and burst into a fit of giggles. “Hell no.” You laugh out.

Jackie just looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I wouldn’t date her if she offered me a million dollars. She’s just my best friend.” You say.

“Oh.” Jackie says, furrowing her eyebrows confused at the fact she read it all wrong.

Your drunken mind finally connects the dots. “Why do you care if we’re dating anyway?”

She rolled her eyes at your words and gave you an angry look as if you had just told her that her outfit was ugly or something.

“Really?” She asks you, disappointed by your question.

Quicker than you’d expected she got up and stormed out the bathroom. Leaving you dumbfounded and confused. What did you say that pissed her off so badly?

The party kind of sucked after that. You

just sat outside and smoked with Van and Taissa. Which was a bad idea as they were so obviously in love, and you, were so obviously confused with your love life.

The worst part of it all was Shauna had to drive you, Natalie and, Jackie home since Natalie ended up drinking when she was supposed to be designated driver. The tension in the car was unbearable and you were dying to get out.

Every few minutes Jackie would look into the rearview mirror just to shoot you a dirty look. Nat noticed too and tried to whisper to you. “What’d you do to piss the princess off?” She said very loudly, her drunk mind making her think she was whispering. Everyone in the car had have heard what she said and you just hid your face in your hands for the rest of the ride.

When you finally got dropped off you looked back into the car while walking up to your house. You and Jackie made eye contact and she looked like you had just kicked her puppy or something. You were so lost. What did you do?

[fishermanshook]

ASK: Hi:) if you feel like it how do you think ganji norton and naib would react to reader saying they feel safe with them?

“TRUST IN ME!”

( batter , prospector & mercenary ) + gn!reader

occ , angst in naib & ganji’s part , grammar and spelling warning

INTRO

To fall in love is a risk not all are willing to take. Putting your heart on the line could result in rejection and heartache instead of love and happiness.

To fall in love in a place like this is out of the ordinary, but not exactly uncommon. And as you find yourself sinking more into your lovers embrace, you can’t help but whisper the words;

“I trust you.”

꒰wc꒱ 1.3k

✦— THE BATTER

You say it to him after a match where one reckless move could’ve killed you.

It’s night when the Batter, Ganji Gupta, holds you tight in his arms. Maybe a little too tight for your liking, but you did put him in a frightening situation earlier today. You recall shoving him out of the way in order to save him from a blow to your head. You don't remember much after that. Just blurry memories of being in Emily's office and then, returning to your room with Ganji.

“Ganji,” you sigh, clawing at his arms in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp, even if it’s just a little bit. “You’ve gotta loosen up a little bit, please. I’m really sorry I did that earlier, but you needed to get out…”

Ganji is quick to stop your rambling by holding you (somehow) even tighter than before. “[name], you got hit on the head with an axe. None the less, a Detention hit. If I—“ Ganji sucked in a deep breath of air, letting it fall from his mouth before speaking again. "If I hadn't used my last ball I don't think you would've struggled out in time. And I don't want to think about having to leave you behind because that was your last chair."

Immediately, Ganji stiffens and sits ups. he seems to have finally processed what just happened.

"[name]. you could've died. And for what?" Ganji repeats the question while shaking you by your shoulders, tears pricking at his eyes threating to fall.

You cup his face and put your forehead to his, allowing his to fulling chompreheand the choice you made during the last match.

"I understand it was stupid of me," You start, closing your eyes. "But I don't do things without reason."

The Batter quickly wipes away at his falling tears, suddenly feeling embarrassed. "Then why did you do it? You said it yourself, it was a stupid choice."

"Yes, but I did it for you. I did it because I have put more trust into you than anyone else in this wretched manor. And I knew, that even if I didn't make it out during that last game, that you would still be okay. Surviving another match means surviving another day. And for you, I'd do that again."

"God," Ganji wipes at his nose. "I hope you don't."

✦— THE PROSPECTOR

You say it to him when you’re tired and vulnerable. when anything can happen.

It was early in the morning when the Prospector, Norton Campbell, snuck into your room to pry you awake from your slumber. With your bedroom key in hand (you gave it to him in case of an emergency), he tip toed into your room. He couldn’t help but silently laugh as he peered at your morning appearance. Hair a mess with a side of droll staining your pillow. Cute, but he can stare more later.

The Prospector is quick to shake you awake, pinning your arms to your side so you don’t land a hit on him in fear of being attacked. As he hovers above you, he explains that there’s something he wishes to show you.

“But Norton,” you whisper into his ear “the sun isn’t even up yet.” You hoped the darkness of your room could conceal the light blush on your face.

“Exactly why I want you to come with me. I promise it’ll be worth it.” Norton mumbled, pulling you out from under the covers. Sliding on a pair of shoes, you drag your achy body behind him and follow the Prospector outside the manor.

Fresh dew covered the grass outside, making it a bit wet and chillier than usual outside. Fortunately, Norton had came prepared. Set up outside was a big fluffy blanket with more than enough pillows to spare. Two mugs of coffee residing inside.

“Ever seen the sunrise?” Norton asks, already knowing the answer based off your shocked expression.

You shake your head no as the Prospector reaches to grab your hand and lead you towards the spot. It didn’t take long to get settled, and when you did, you found your head in the core of Norton’s lap.

“Oh? What’s this?” Norton teased “cold aren’t ya’?” You shiver in his arms as a response. Before grabbing his face with your hands. It’s a weird position, but Norton doesn’t mind. Instead he leans into your touch. A soft smile on his face.

“Have I ever told you how much I trust you?” You ask with genuine curiosity.

“I’m not sure, have you?” Norton questions, brushing your hair to the side of your face.

“No, I’m being serious. Stuck in a place like this leaves everyone fending for themselves. But because I have you, I have someone to watch my back. I really appreciate that Norton. I trust you more than anyone else in this manor.”

Norton looks at you with sad eyes as he bends down to place a gentle kiss upon your forehead.

“I trust you more, doll.” He says as the sun starts to rise. Showering you in its warmth and light, a feeling he now resonates when it comes to you.

✦— THE MERCENARY

You say it to him during a particularly risky match where everything seems to be on the line.

There are time where a match can go inexplicably well, where everything goes absolutely perfect and you survive the game with all your limbs intact and the egotistical pride that comes with it.

Those aren’t all the time though, and when both sides are fighting it out until their last breath, it turns into a messy and an undoubtedly long match.

This seems to be one of them, and you’ve collected more than enough scars and bumps and bruises to prove it. You’re more than sure you’ll have to make a stop by Emily’s offfice, but now’s not the time to think about that. You must stay focus on your current task: stitching up Naib.

Sangria got him good this time as a long scar has taken shape on his back. Naib bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the whimpers of pain he feels. He thought he was better at this. Better at pretending he wasn’t hurting. You know him all too well though.

“m’ sorry, ‘m sorry I know it hurts. I promise I’ll be done in just a second.” You say in attempt to comfort and reassure him. All he does is nod his head and sucks in a breath of air in order to steady himself.

The Mercenary is off the second he feels you tighten the last of his bandages. You’re quick to jump onto a cipher machine as well to catch up on the progress that was lost.

—

This match has been nothing short of a living, breathing disaster.

You still can't shake the ear piercing scream Fiona let out as she was hit down again minutes later, and you won't forget the horrible cut that now runs across Naib's stomach. You’d stich it up but you don’t have the time for it. Not when Fiona needs rescuing.

“Naib, take over the last cipher. I have to go in.” You tell the Mercenary, racing past him. He stops you, grabbing—no, shaking you by the shoulders.

“No, please, [name] don’t go in there. It’s not worth it we can, we can get—“ he continues to trip over his words out of fear and desperation. “please [name], I don’t wanna lose you.”

“Naib, I promise I’ll be out soon. I trust you, I wouldn’t go in if I didn’t.” And that’s that. You place a quick kiss on his forehead before dashing off towards Fiona’s chair. You hear him scream your name out afterwards.

note: KILLS MYSELF THIS IS ACTUALLY TERRIBLE [crys]

© fishermanshook — no stealing , translating , plagiarizing or reposting my work on other any other sites + reblogs adored !!

[lovetaroandtaemin]

Kinktober 2024

Day 2: Shower Sex

Byun Baekhyun x Reader Word Count: 1,235 THIS FIC IS NSFW, MINORS DNI!!! Warnings: Shower sex, sort of soft dom!Baekhyun, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, biting, hickeys, oral (fem recieving), little bit of masturbation, multiple orgasms. If you think I missed a warning, please let me know! A/N: If you would like to be added to my Kinktober taglist, you can send an ask, send a dm, or comment on any of my Kinktober-related posts with the username that you'd like tagged. Happy reading!

Fic is under the cut.

Baekyun had a terrible day at work. He got yelled at by producers while he was recording, he was struggling to learn new choreography, and he hadn’t been able to meet you for lunch like usual because he was too busy with comeback preparations. He hated not being able to see you in the afternoon, and it just made him miss you more as he drove home.

When he finally walked through the door of your shared apartment, all Baekhyun wanted to do was collapse in bed and hold you. When he entered your room and found you in bed reading a book, he smiled and said, “Hello, beautiful.”

“Hey, honey. How was work?”

“Awful, I spent the whole day missing you.”

“I missed you too, love. I’m happy you’re home though.”

“Me too,” Baekhyun said with a sigh as he got in bed next to you. You smiled and closed your book before hugging him. He leaned into your touch and felt a wave of peace wash over him as the stress of the day seemed to melt in your presence.

“What did you do today?” you asked.

“Well, I finished recording for the new album. Still struggling to learn the choreography, though.”

“That’s ok, it happens.”

“I missed you at lunch. I’m sorry I was too busy to meet you today.”

“It’s ok. I understand that you get busy.”

Baekhyun kissed you for the first time since that morning, and you melted into his touch. Apparently, you had missed him more than you initially thought, and finally feeling his lips on yours had a familiar need building in the pit of your stomach. When you deepened the kiss, a small moan left Baekhyun’s mouth, and it only made you want him more. Before the kiss could get too much more heated, however, he pulled away and said, “I’m gonna go get a shower. I’ll be right back, ok?”

“Can I join?”

“What?”

“Can I join you?”

Baekhyun thought for a moment and said, “Sure, love.” He knew exactly why you were asking, but he didn’t really mind. It had been too long since the last time the two of you had sex, and when he missed you as much as he had while he was at work, he was bound to get at least a little bit hard from kissing you.

Both of you made your way to the bathroom, undressing as soon as the door was shut. Baekhyun got in the shower first and turned the water on in hopes of muffling any noise for your neighbors’ sakes. The moment you joined him, he held you against the wall and kissed you. This kiss was different, though. There was a hunger that wasn’t there when he kissed you before. You let out a soft whimper, and it only made him want you more.

He pulled away from the kiss just long enough to move to your neck, gently sucking on your sweet spot. More soft moans fell from your lips, and your hands flew to the back of his head to grip his hair. Baekhyun groaned when he felt your hands in his hair. Once he was finished leaving hickeys on your neck, he said, “Fuck, I need to taste you. Can I?”

“Please.”

That was all he needed to hear to start moving lower, kissing every inch of you that he could reach. When he finally got to his knees, he started by parting your legs slightly and kissing your inner thighs. You let out a small moan before saying, “Please, Baek. Need you.”

“Your wish is my command, my love.”

When Baekhyun started gently sucking on your clit, it already had you seeing stars. It had been too long since you had felt him between your legs. Judging by the moans coming out of his mouth as he devoured your pussy, he had missed feeling you too. Both of you had been busy, so there hadn’t been as much time as usual to be intimate. As he continued teasing your clit, you made a mental note to talk to him about finding time for sex more often.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Baekhyun inserted two of his fingers into your pussy. Being in the shower with the water running made everything extra wet, which made it much easier for his fingers to slide in and out. The combined sensation of his fingers inside of you and his mouth on your clit was almost too much, but you loved it at the same time. He clearly loved it too, almost moaning as loud as you were.

It didn’t take long at all for you to feel your orgasm approaching, so you warned Baekhyun. He started to suck on your clit just a little bit harder, and that was all it took for you to feel the familiar rush of pleasure. He slowed his movements slightly when he felt you clench around his fingers, fucking you through your release.

You didn’t have much time to catch your breath once your orgasm subsided. The moment he was done, Baekhyun was off the floor and his mouth was back on yours. He groaned at the feeling of your lips on his and slowly moved his hand to his aching erection, desperate for some of his own relief.

When you noticed, you said, “Baek, for fuck’s sake, just fuck me already.”

Baekhyun didn’t have to be told twice. He lined himself up with your pussy, and when his cock was finally inside you, he moaned loudly and said “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. I’ve missed this pussy so much.”

“Missed you too, honey. You feel so good inside me.”

Once you had a moment to adjust, Baekhyun started to slowly thrust in and out. He held you against the shower wall as he fucked into you to keep you from falling, and you held onto him for dear life. While he fucked you, he went back to leaving hickeys all over your neck. You moaned when you felt his mouth on you, and he started fucking you harder in an attempt to draw more beautiful sounds from you.

“We should do this more often, baby,” he said, “You look fucking sexy when you’re all wet like this.”

You only moaned in response, too overwhelmed with pleasure to speak. When you felt your second orgasm of the evening approaching, you couldn’t even warn Baekhyun. You just dug your nails into his back and screamed his name. When he felt you clench around his cock, he couldn’t hold back anymore either and released inside of you.

When you came down from your high, you almost felt too weak to stand. The slippery floor didn’t exactly help. Baekhyun noticed immediately, holding you up so you could catch your breath. Once he was certain you could stand up on your own, he helped you wash. Once you were done, you returned the favor, helping him wash everywhere you could reach.

Once you were both done using the shower for its intended purpose, you walked back to your bedroom to get dressed. The moment your clothes were on, Baekhyun pulled you toward your bed, holding you close once you were lying next to him. The two of you talked about whatever came to mind until sleep overtook you, feeling much more relieved after a stressful day.

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to see what else I've written so far and the rest of what's planned, you can find my Kinktober masterlist here. If you'd like to read one of my non-Kinktober works, you can find my general masterlist here. If you'd like to see what I'm going to be working on once Kinktober is over, you can find my upcoming works here. If none of that interest you, or there's something specific you'd like to see, send a request via asks or dms!

Thank you again for reading, happy spooky season!

[quibbs126]

And this here is today’s attempts at drawing Transformers, specifically TF One

I had this idea when I started today, since I knew the faces and noses were giving me trouble yesterday, to try this paintbrush style. The logic in my brain was that the movie was made in 3D, so logistically a more lineless style should work better, right?

I do admit, I think that the lineless style works far better in terms of the eyes and noses being the right shape, but I also admit my lines are probably a bit too soft and I may need to darken them. As well as get something good for the actual thin lines, since the paint brush on its own feels too thick, even at the lowest size

And you know what, since we’re here, does anyone have any Procreate brushes they can suggest for this sort of style? Right now I’m just using Flat Brush, but I wonder if I should use something else

Anyways, so this canvas was supposed to be more D-16, but partway through I figured I should try someone else to draw as well, so I decided Orion, so we could have the yaoi

Honestly my big problem with Pax here is that I don’t have a good comprehensive reference for him, while I can get by just fine with D-16. These were about the best I could get, and that last one I only got because these other two weren’t cutting it

I need high quality references of these characters, or at least specifically their faces. And I’m gonna need even more if I plan to draw Megatron and Optimus as well

But yeah, Orion’s here, and I was also having trouble getting the correct colors for him, because I’m stupid and used to flat colors. D was pretty easy considering he’s just greys, and a yellow tinted grey works just fine there as a grey (though I do admit I’m struggling with his eye color), but I feel like blue tinted Orion looks too blue by comparison. But I don’t know how to give him his proper face coloring without it being the same shade as D-16

I feel like my words aren’t making sense. But just get that Orion colors are a struggle. And still are, because I still don’t think that other grey is the right color

Also Orion has a significantly more complicated helmet than D, so that’s fun

I really wasn’t planning on Orion taking up so much of the space, but I needed to actually practice how he looked so that I could draw him easier. I had numerous attempts at D-16 prior, I could sort of understand his look, but I was flailing in the dark on Orion and needed the practice

I think another problem is that I don’t make him wide enough. But sue me, my character designs usually don’t have their bodies that wide/their heads that small. I’m working on it

I capped off this canvas by just deciding to make a small doodle of Orion kissing D, since why not and also I was too lazy to think of anything else to add

Where do we go from here? I have no clue, but hopefully it’ll go good

[willyoubemycherryy]

𝙼𝚛. & 𝙼𝚛𝚜. 𝙴𝚐𝚊𝚗_ _ _𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗?_𝚙𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐..___. . . .

S͟E͟T͟ A͟N͟Y͟T͟I͟M͟E͟ B͟E͟F͟O͟R͟E͟ E͟P͟I͟S͟O͟D͟E͟ 5

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚞𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝, 𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚙𝚝𝚜𝚍, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑, 𝚠𝚊𝚛 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐

@missusnora @eleanorbaybars

_ - _ - _- __-_ __—_

“just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough. just a second; we’re not broken just bent and we can learn to love again…”

You never thought you’d see yourselves like this.

“NO! NO MORE DODGING THIS! WHERE ARE YOU RIGHT NOW?!”

It should have never come to this.

“I’M RIGHT HERE IF YOU WOULD JUST LOOK AT ME! DAMNNIT WOMAN!”

But…it had to happen. The tension so tight, it finally snapped.

“You’re not because I AM looking at you, and I can see that you’re here but you aren’t here with me! You haven’t been for weeks!”

It was a normal day. He had a rare day off and you two were together so everything was supposed to be perfect. Only…it wasn’t. For weeks, everytime you spoke, everytime you were able to be together, even when you would glimpse him; he’d be so close but so far.

You knew he was hurting.

Over the lost boys, over Curt, over the despondence that the higher ups seemed to have with him, over his own internal griefs, struggles, and hopes. But with all his hurt…came a distance.

Acting like everything was okay. He’d be there in the moment but he didn’t live in it like he used to. He didn’t talk about it so you wouldn’t bring it up. Most times, he was so far it felt like it wasn’t even listening to you.

Now, there’s a gap where your bond was. And it keeps getting bigger and bigger with everything you don’t say to each other.

Today was the last straw.

Talking to him and seeing that distance in his eyes while he stayed silent…

“Do you even still love me?!”

Hot tears run down your face as you stand in the living room barefoot. Looking up at him, your greatest love and hardest pain.

At first it was just anger, throwing the heels on your feet at him in the beginning, the screaming, frustration. But at this point? You were just tired and hurt of having to miss someone who’s right there.

“…What?” The question comes out hushed. John looking down at you in crestfallen disbelief, glassy blue eyes and furrowed brows.

You don’t think he loves you anymore?

“You think I don’t love you? Doll,” panic and desperation seep into him and it shows. Looking and sounding so pained that you can’t bear to look at him anymore. Teardrops stream from your face and hit the floor as you drop your head.

“You’re with me. I have you. But why do I still feel alone if I have you?” Your voice is shaking so bad but this needs to come out.

“It’s like I lost you to the war already with how hollow you’ve become. You won’t let me in. When I talk, it’s like you can’t hear me. You won’t let me comfort you. You won’t even reach out to Gale. Just retreating back into your thoughts that can’t possibly care for you the way I do…it’s like my John left and I’m stuck with his ghost.” The wave of held back emotions drown you and you wail, unbidden sobs wracking your body before John gently takes your face into his big, warm hands.

The familiarity of his touch makes your heart ache. You don’t even notice immediately that he was crying too. His silent tears cutting you to pieces.

John cries because it’s true. He has been in a weird place lately and he can’t seem to find his way out. He’s not good at not being the leader so he doesn’t know how to let others step in to help him when he needs it. So, he drowns himself in his thoughts, doubts, and regrets. Lets the distance he’s created hurt him some more. Because, he’s used to hurt. Until…it starts to hurt more than usual.

Until it ends up hurting you.

Nothing is allowed to hurt you. You’re one of the reasons he serves.

Bucky has seen so many things that can hurt you. He should have never let one of them be him.

“I’m so sorry bunny”. Bucky can’t take you crying. Your little hiccuping sobs are killing him. Closeness. Closeness, is what you both need right now. So, he doesn’t even bother with formalities before lifting you up into him. Wrapping your legs around his waist and tucking your head into his neck. He rests his cheek against the top of your head, wraps his big arm around you as he holds you, cries with you, and apologizes.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m an ass. You’re right. I haven’t been here and none of that is your fault. But it is my fault for letting you feel this way. For making you feel like I don’t love you, when I do. I love you more than sleeping in, I love you more than winning, I love you more than every life I lived before.” The soft, low timbre of his voice makes you warm, like a soothing balm listening to him finally come back to you.

“You’re not alone because you do have me and I’m not alone because I have you. If I’m not anywhere else, the one place I’ll always be is in your heart. I’ll try harder to open up so we can be even closer. Nothing could ever compare to come close to your affection so don’t ever stop trying to reach me, okay? Even when the line is connected, stay on it, okay?” This is the most he’s bared himself to you and you bury yourself into him more.

“…okay..I love you too, Bucky.” Barely a whisper but he hears you. Pressing kisses all over the top of your head until you lift it to look into his eyes.

Time seems slower as you gravitate towards each other, eyes slipping closed when your lips meet in a tender kiss.

You missed him so much.

It’s perfect. The way your lips fit together, pushing before colliding back to one another. Breathing in the softness of your mouth, Bucky deepens the kiss. Holding the back of your head, you completely melt into him as light, wet sounds accompanied by picked up breaths; fill you and the atmosphere with pure warmth.

Bucky struggles to pull away first because he knows how he’ll get. He’s aching to make you feel better in any way he can but now really is not the time to let comfort to give way to passion.

“I missed you, bunny”. He presses his forehead to yours but the lovely way he speaks to you makes you blush. Suddenly feeling. . . shy.

“I missed you too”, voice as soft as you feel. Bucky readjusts you in his arms before heading towards the stairs.

“Well, let’s fix that. So we won’t have to miss each other when we’re together”.

“John Clarence Egan- !”

If he thinks he’s gonna cuddle and sweet talk his way into your panties after that fight, he’s dead right. (not standing on business at ALL)

“I meant; we could talk, bunny. Y’know, really catch up. Just want you with me, on everything this time.”

Oh.

Okay.

He means you two can bond.

The thought of that kind of intimacy in conversation; and with him, makes you love giddy as you practically purr in agreement, nodding your head.

Kissing the top of your head, Bucky carries you up to your shared bedroom. Happy that you two are going to be okay and that you’re staying with him; because with you is where his heart belongs.

Safe, with you.

[beautyofaphrodite]

Happy Friday!

As Friday is a day to honor Lady Aphrodite, every week I like to create a post similar to this, where I talk about a certain topic and have questions for you to share or think about. Last week’s post can be found here. As always, this may not apply to everyone.

Today’s Topic: Aphrodite and Being Queer

Tumblr is known for being a very queer app, so I wouldn’t be surprised if many who see this are part of the LGBTQIA+ community. I’m going to refer to us a “queer” instead of the acronym because it’s long lol.

Lately, as there has been more acceptance and representation for queer people, more and more have been realizing they’re queer. We have always been here, but we are more and more seen and loved than we have been in the past.

Lady Aphrodite has always been a queer goddess. She is a goddess of love, and that means all love, whether that means love between a man and a woman, to two people of the same gender, to more than two in a relationship, to queerplatonic love, or any way that love can be experienced. In addition, She can be seen as trans or intersex with Her form of Aphroditos, someone with a “feminine” shape and “male genitals”.

Many, including me, see Her with more modern labels of queerness. In communication with Her, She has shown Herself to be transfeminine, pansexual, and polyamorous (completely UPG, not a belief everyone will share and She may use different labels or none at all if you ask Her).

Because of Her domains and how She is perceived, many of Aphrodite’s beloved followers and worshippers tend to be queer. Not all of them, of course, but many. For an example that is not modern, take Sappho, the poet where the term sapphic comes from. She often mentioned Lady Aphrodite in her poetry.

In my experience and the experiences from others that I’ve heard about, Lady Aphrodite helps a lot with identity and who we are. I know She’s helped people with internalized queerphobia, navigating relationships whether queer or not, embracing gender identity and expression, and much more.

I love our queer Goddess so much 🫶 I chose this topic in particular for this week as I’ve been struggling with being perceived as female lately. Usually I don’t care how people see me, I know nobody will use my pronouns irl so I just don’t care but I’ve been dressing feminine because I like it and have been getting more feminine comments and I knew that would happen and that that’s what happens when I present femininely but it sucks :/ (sorry for the little vent y’all)

Today’s Question

Does Lady Aphrodite appear queer to you in some way? If you are queer, has She helped you with that somehow?

Challenge

Be a good ally to others in the community or just the community in general. This includes those you don’t understand or think are “weird”. Ally is a verb, not an adjective.

Thank you all for reading this and happy Friday! As always, please think a little bit about the questions and feel free to share your answers if you choose! I will share my answers in a reblog as always.

To anyone who sees this, may you notice love and beauty all around you.

[act-nat-ural]

Study Guide

word count: 735

It was a cool evening, and the warm light of the desk lamp cast a cozy glow over your textbooks, notebooks, and a small mountain of scattered notes. You were halfway through yet another practice test, and every wrong answer seemed to add weight to your shoulders. It felt like you were getting nowhere, and frustration was bubbling up.

That was when you heard a knock on the door, and Kita’s familiar voice followed. “Mind if I come in?”

You looked up, surprised, but the frustration melted a bit at the sight of him. He stood there with his usual calm smile, eyes warm and reassuring. You nodded, shifting a little to make space for him.

Kita walked over and glanced at the papers on your desk. “You’ve been at this for hours,” he observed, sitting beside you. “You’re doing alright?”

You shrugged, feeling the tension still clinging to your shoulders. “Not really. I just… I keep messing up. I feel like I’m not remembering anything.”

Kita hummed thoughtfully and took a quick glance at your notes. “That’s tough. But look at how much work you’ve put in already,” he pointed out, tapping a neat stack of completed worksheets. “It might not feel like it, but you’re further along than you think.”

You sighed. “It doesn’t feel like enough. I’m trying so hard, but the more I study, the more it feels like I’m losing track of everything.”

Kita gave a gentle nod, acknowledging how you felt. “It’s natural to feel overwhelmed,” he said, his voice soft and steady. “Especially when you care about something. But overworking yourself won’t make things better. You’ve done a lot, so maybe it’s time to take a breath and slow down.”

He leaned forward, his gaze warm and calm. “Let’s try a different approach, yeah? If you’re alright with it, I can help break things down and make a plan. Something that won’t make you feel like you have to remember everything all at once.”

The idea of structure, of a clear path, sounded wonderful. You nodded, and Kita reached over, starting to sort through your papers. He arranged them in small, manageable piles, explaining his reasoning with that same steady tone. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll tackle one subject at a time, bit by bit, like pieces of a puzzle. And for every topic you feel good about, we’ll set it aside, and then we’ll only focus on the ones that are still a bit hazy.”

His calm, organized approach made everything seem so much more manageable. You relaxed a little, watching as he worked, his brow furrowed just slightly in concentration.

After a few minutes, he looked up with a small, satisfied smile. “Alright, let’s give it a shot. I’ll quiz you on a few things, and if you don’t know the answer right away, don’t worry. We’ll just go over it together. You’re not doing this alone.”

With Kita beside you, studying felt different. Each time you hesitated, he didn’t push or rush; he would calmly guide you through the process, explaining things in a way that somehow made everything click. When you got an answer right, he gave a warm nod, that quiet pride in his expression lighting a little spark of confidence in you. When you struggled, he’d patiently walk you through it again, making sure you understood the steps.

As the evening wore on, the knot of anxiety you’d felt started to unravel. The material began to feel less intimidating, like you could actually handle it. Kita’s presence made all the difference—his steady confidence in you started to make you believe in yourself, too.

After a while, he noticed the way you were stifling a yawn. “Looks like you’re getting tired,” he said gently, setting down the last page of notes. “Let’s call it a night. You’ve done a lot today, more than enough.”

You protested at first, feeling like you should keep going, but he shook his head with a gentle smile. “Pushing yourself too hard now won’t help tomorrow. Trust me. You’ll be ready.”

He squeezed your shoulder lightly, his hand warm and reassuring. “And if you need any more help, I’m here. Don’t forget that, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude as he looked at you with that steady, unshakable faith. With Kita by your side, you felt stronger—and maybe, just maybe, ready to face the challenges ahead.

note: akaashi x reader will be posted later today :)

[xxblairexxss]

Saving your bacon

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x medicstudent!reader

Theme : Light on angst, more heavy of fluff

Word count : 3.4k

I feel like something’s missing but I’m not sure what it is and I don’t wanna keep this in my draft so I’m just gonna drop and dip. Oh, and I wanted to switch up and play around with reader’s personality instead of sticking to one so this time around, reader is more (idk how to explain) but more bright????? And I also don’t want to write her as someone struggling with her studies just because I think I have seen the same plot a few times around so let’s just say she enjoyed doing what she did. I know you asked for more angry Charles but for some reason I found him more of a people pleaser so it’s hard to write him getting angry at the crowd. 😭

Warnings, inaccurate medical term and procedure, as usual.

Requested!

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Charles was catching up to his favourite series, all sluggish and slothful on his day off when he heard your footsteps and humming got closer and closer to which he immediately took a cushion near him and laid down, pretending to sleep.

“Oh?” Your little skip stopped when you reached the living room. You were so, completely sure he was awake because you sworn you heard him laughed at one of the jokes on the television a few minutes ago. Stepping closer, you saw the way his lashes slightly fluttered as he bit the inside of his lip, holding his smile from exposing his little trick. “You are not sleeping!” You called out and chortled, quickly placing your medical files on the tea table before diving into his embrace, making him groaned from the sudden impact. “I caught you!”

“You got the wind knocked out of me, baby.” He moved a little so you could settle down by his side. “What do you need me to do today?”

“How do you know I was gonna ask for your help?” You cackled in his arm at the way he looked completely unfazed with your requests by now.

“Because this isn’t the first time. I just knew how your steps would sound like if you needed my help.”

“Yeah? How does it sound like?” You sat up and his hand snaked its way under your shirt instantly.

“Can’t explain it in words. Lay down or sit up?”

“Lay down! Wait,” You took back your medical files and scanned through your notes. “Oh, wait! No, no! Sit up and turn that way.”

“That way?”

“Yeah! And close your eyes! I’ll be right back.”

Charles had his eyes shut, sitting up straight facing the balcony of his apartment while trying to catch up with the dialogs coming from the tv series he was watching. “No way! I missed the important scene, did– ouch!” He jolted to the front when something cold was pressed on his neck, sending shiver up to her head. “Babe, what was that?!”

“Ice pack! Sit back down!” You pulled him back and placed the ice pack back on what you imagine the pain would be.

“It’s cold! Can’t we just pretend to use an ice pack instead of– cold! Babe, it’s cold! Instead of using actual ice pack?” You held him by his shirt to stop him from moving away while you repetitively went back to scan through your notes.

“Stay still! I’m trying to get these right! Oh, I need to move it in circular motion and never let it sit for more than 20 minutes on the same spot.” You leaned against his back and giggled. “I nearly gave you frostbite!”

“Are we done yet, babe?” He tilted his head to the side to catch your eyes, while still obeying every instructions.

“Wait, let me do one last check on the C1 and C2 first.”

Charles had always been your some sort of medical dummy ever since you started your medical school residency. You would always come to him whenever you needed to revise some of the notes that you had written as you went through different types of medical or surgical problems. Thought it looked more like you were trying to disturb your boyfriend’s peace, it actually helped you a lot. And though it looked like your boyfriend was trying to hide and ran away whenever you needed his help, he was actually excited to be apart of your dummy, claiming to be his some sort of contribution to your career.

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“Oh, this is sour! Babe, give it a try.” His face was all wrinkled up as he tried to feed you the fruit to which you refused. “Try it.”

“I don’t like sour berries!”

“It’s good though.” He popped another one into his mouth and shivered when the sourness hit, causing you to laugh.

“Your face doesn’t seem like it. I think I picked the wrong batch, baby. We need to let it ripe a little longer.” You sprinkled some salt into the the pot before letting it stir. Charles was too busy chumbling on the berries to realise that you had been staring at him with your arms folded.

“So,” You spoke and he stopped chewing.

“Why? Do I have something on my face?”

“No, but let’s say you come in with your nose bleeding.” You moved closer, half leaning your body against his side with your head tilted up so you could admire his pretty face.

“Ah, so we are doing this?” He pushed the berries away and propped both hand on the kitchen counter. “Okay, let’s pretend my nose is bleeding. What’s next?”

“And I asked you how did your nose bleed. What would you say?”

“Babe, I’m completely lost with whatever topic or disease you are proposing right now.” He hummed, eyes wandered away to think of an answer. “I would say “How I would know, doctor. That’s your job to find out.””

“Charles!” You bursted out laughing and he chuckled along, casually left a soft pinch on your cheek.

“I don’t know, pretty. What should I say?”

“Let’s say you got into a mild accident a few hours ago but you refused to go to the hospital because you thought you were fine but then!” You dramatically gasped and Charles’s eyes widen in amusement. “Then you started feeling blockage in breathing. This is one of the symptoms for?”

His lips curved downwards as he shrugged. “I don’t know. Flu?”

“Wrong!”

“Dang it, that was my best shot. What is it then?”

You giggled and stood on your toes to kiss on his cheek. Charles would always try to answer your questions though he never got any of it right but you just found it adorable how he never gave up because he said he would get it right one day. “Septal hematoma! I need to drain it before it collapses your nasal bridge.”

“Really?! Wow, never knew that. How do you drain it?”

“You are gonna fall asleep before I even start explaining the first procedure. Oh, are we still going to the event tonight?”

“What event?” He raised his brow and his mouth went wide when he realised about it. He was talking about an event a few weeks ago and you decided to tag along. You were rarely seen attended any of his weekend events. Even more after you started your practical and though he never said anything about it, you still felt guilty about it, especially when you saw his pictures at any events that you didn’t attend, all alone while most of his friends would have their partners by their side.

He was a little dubious when you told him you wanted to attend his next event. He didn’t want to make it seems as if he was forcing you to do something that you didn’t want to because he knew both of you have different schedules and accountability as a student and an athlete, or public figure. You had to reassure him that it was something you wanted to do, not because you felt like he was forcing you in some sort of way. A fresh breath of air was the reason that you came up with, professing that you needed to get away from your cases this weekend.

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“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I’m all dressed up!” You clipped on your left earrings and gave a little twirl. You had chosen a satin dress with crisscross backless as it would be the perfect dress considering the event was more leaning towards an informal night out vibe. “Why?You don’t… want me to go?”

“No, that’s not what I meant, babe.” He held your hand, wrapping both of his and your arms on your waist as he turned you around, making you faced the mirror. “You are literally the most beautiful doctor I have ever seen.” He stared at your reflection admiringly, giving a soft smile when he locked his eyes with yours in the mirror and pecked on your neck.

“Nice try, handsome but I’m not a qualified one yet.”

“But you will be.”

“Not if I fail my residency.” You spun your body to face him, hands on his shoulders as you found yourself getting butterflies from seeing his face up close, even after all these years.

“Did you forget how many times you made me suffer with all those on hand practices? It’s impossible for you to fail.” He stole a kiss on your newly applied gloss and left the room before you could scream at him.

“Stop kissing me when I got my lip gloss on!”

“Can’t help myself. Come on, we gotta go.”

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“Is this normal?” You blinked as Charles made the final turn towards the entrance of the club. There were tons of people with cameras hung around their neck gathered in front of the building. They would congregate towards every cars regardless of who it was.

“No, not at all. It might have something to do with the other event that is happening at the casino, I think.” Charles saw you clasped your hands together on your lap and knew what you were feeling even when he didn’t see your face. “You okay, babe?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little surprised.”

“It’s okay. I’m not gonna leave you behind. Don’t let go of my hand okay?” He unbuckled his seatbelt and was going to unlock the door, when he stopped himself. “No, babe, hold on. Wait for me.” You retreated your hand from the shotgun door as he hopped off the car. Charles handed his car key to the valet staff who greeted him as he walked around to get to your side. You saw the flash went off, following your boyfriend all the way to your side. Though the front windscreen window was half tinted, you could still see how bright it was.

“Ready?” Charles leaned in, one hand gripped on the door seal and other arm at the end of his car roof to make sure you felt safe and had the people blocked before your could step out.

“Ready!”

He offered a hand, while keeping his other on still gripping of the weatherstrip so the door wouldn’t be opened too wide. “Don’t let go of my hand, okay?” He brushed his lips on your cheek before moving away so you could step out.

The first few interactions with the fans were fine. He was handed notebooks, caps, and shirts to be signed. Even a few selfies here and there. You were gripping on his jacket, a little uneasy when you heard a few men with cameras started shouting and scream. At first it sounded far, as if it came from the casino so it shouldn’t be a problem to you. Soon enough, the shouting went louder as if it was brought closer to you by a wave and the fans who were asking for Charles’s autographs and pictures began yelling out to stop the shove and push. Charles heard the commotion and intertwined his hand with yours before making his way to the building before it got any worse.

The flashes suddenly went off to your direction and you could barely see where you should placed your heels, your free hand immediately tried to shield your face. Even some of the fans from earlier started to get shoved around, some even used it as an opportunity to take closer pictures of both you and Charles.

“Charles..” You breathed out, feeling yourself getting pushed. You could feel the crowd getting closer as you tried go get out of the way. He didn’t reply but you could feel his grip on your hand getting more firm as he tried to step away from the crowd.

“Don’t push!”

“Give them space!”

You kept on hearing the words being shouted over and over amongst the crowd but you still felt all closed up with them getting closer and closer regardless of the orders. You let out a gasp when you lost your balance as the crowd started pushing one another, causing a few of them to accidentally inclined towards you.

He stopped and turned back, looking all worried. “You okay? Baby, here. Hold my arm.” You regained your composure and held, more like clinging on his arm while your other hand still fully secured in his. It felt like forever for you to pass your way through the throng, even with the help of the person in charged because none of them even bother to listen and kept on pushing one another towards you.

“Stop it!”

You heard another howl from one of the crowd when you stumbled back as few people were pushed in front of you, the impact caused your hand to slip away from Charles when you tried to move away from the pack of people, your arms were pressed on your chest while you swayed back and forth from constantly being pushed from every sides.

“Y/N– excuse me!” Charles tried to get back to you but he got pushed back by the crowd even more.

“I can’t– !” He heard you called out to him before your voice was swamped with voices amongst the number of people.

You tried to wrap your arms around your body, feeling as if you taking up the space was the reason why you felt suffocating and squeezed up but a sudden shove caused you to jerk forward. You tried stop your fall with your hand but the impact sent a jolt of pain on your wrist. The pain made you wince as you tried to retract your hand but it was stepped on over and over by the number of feet around you.

“Charles, here.”

He was pulled out from the crowd and was being assisted, more like dragged towards the entrance of the building before he stepped back. “I need to get back to my girlfriend.”

“Leave it to us.”

“No.” He sprinted back out and tried to scan amongst the crowd. It got a little under control now that they had enforced more people in charge though the pushing and shoving was still going on.

“Please let me pass..” It took you a while to get back on your feet and tried to squeeze your way out when a camera was thumped on your face, causing your head to tilt. You couldn’t see anything else other than constant flash and light. You started choking back tears and dabbed on your philtrum when it felt like something warm trickled down your nose.

You tried to move away, hand kept on wiping your philtrum as the blood was still leaking down your nose when you felt a firm grip on your arm, yanking you away and out from the crowd. Charles had saw you in the midst and just grabbed on whatever he could get. The grip was harder that he had wished for but he needed to get you somewhere safe, regardless whatever force he had to use.

Your face was forcefully crashed against something hard but you were too beat to repudiate that you continued to cry against the embrace. It was when the familiar scent hit you when you finally realised it was your boyfriend.

“It’s okay, baby. I got you. I’m so, so, sorry.”

You refused to pull away, your whole body was aching but the stroke on your hair and the strong grip on your back made you feel safe, away from the furore. “I was– “ You sobbed. “I was so scared.”

He could feel you trembling in his hold, your head tried to look back to make sure you were really away from the people. “Y/N– Y/N, look at me. Baby, look at me. You’re okay. I got you. You’re okay.”

He leaned away but you could still feel his body latching against yours. “Fuck, you’re bleeding.” Holding your face in his hands, he started scanning through your pretty face. That was when he actually saw the bruise on your temple, your bloody nose and your flushed cheeks. When he caught you by your arm earlier, he was a little at eased as it felt like you weren’t harm but you were far from it. You kept on sobbing, your hand wiped on your tears that was threaten to fall from your chin. “Let’s go home, alright? I’m taking you home.”

Charles wrapped his arm on your waist as you leaned against him while he tried to get you to his just newly parked car.

“Y/N, a picture!” One of the paparazzi snatched on your sprained arm, causing you to shriek in pain.

“Hands off my girl.” He pushed the guy away, feeling so close to land a punch on that face but he had to hold himself from causing any scene that he knew would feed these people even more. Instead of placing his hand back to your waist, he lifted you up in his arms as you placed one arm across his neck, the sprained arm to your chest. He didn’t know you had any other injury because your hand was out of his sight the whole time.

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“Is your nose still bleeding?”

“I think so…” You dabbed the tissue that Charles had given to you when he got in the car and still found a fresh, wet blood stained.

“Keep on pinching your nose, alright?”

“Where did you learn how to treat nosebleed?” You tilted your head to the side and stared at your boyfriend in surprise.

“From my doctor girlfriend.” He gave your hair a stroke and pressed on the pedal as the light turned green.

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“Baby, stay there. I’m gonna get the first aid kit.” He left you and rummaged through the kitchen drawers. “Let’s treat your wrist first.”

You winced and pulled your arm away when he wanted to place it on his lap. “It hurts..” You didn’t think it was that bad but it still hurt. The tears started to fill your eyes again but you looked away so it wouldn’t roll down onto your already wet cheeks.

“Oh, was it too harsh? Sorry, baby.” He scooted closer and tried to place your hand on his lap more gentle this time. “Here. I’m gonna use– yeah, I’m gonna use the one with velcro.”

“Do you know how to do it?”

“Yeah, I have seen you did it to me before.”

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flash

Charles groaned a little when he heard you placed all sort of stuffs in front of him. “Babe, can I borrow your hand?” He heard you whispered as you sat cross legged on the floor.

“Right now, baby? Let me sleep 5 more minutes.”

“You can just keep on laying down.” You replied as you pull his hand from under his head. He was laying on his stomach on the couch before you disturbed his peace with the first add kid and your notes with you. “I just need your hand.” He is still in the same position, just his arm dangling from the end of the couch.

“Like this,” He heard you kept on murmuring, as if you were chanting something whilst he was trying to get back to sleep. “and this,” He peered at you first with a frown and soon after a smile formed on his lips. “around the thumb,” You were completely focused on wrapping his hand with the compression bandage, completely unaware and thinking he was still sound asleep. He would always find the little wrinkles in between your brows whenever you were too focused on some things made you look so adorable so instead of dozing back, he was gazing at you with fondness.

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“I thought you were asleep when I wrapped your hand!”

“I wasn’t. Your little mumble kept me awake.” He rolled the elastic compression bandage around your wrist one last time before securing it with the velcro. “There you go. Did I do I right?”

“Yeah!” You held your now fully wrapped wrist. “I think you did it better than me.”

Charles had left you again to get an ice pack and you leaned against the back pillows. You were expecting neon lights and loud music before you left the house, not coming back with bleeding nose, bruise, and a sprained wrist.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelm. Can we cuddle?” He then took a spot next to you, ice pack still in hand as as you leaned your head on his shoulder. His hand is on your back while you propped your legs on his laps.

“How did you get those bruise on your head?”

“One of the man accidentally hit me on the face but I don’t think it was on purpose.” You were playing with his necklace when dabbed the ice pack on your temple, causing you to move away. “It’s cold!”

“Oh, so now it’s cold? Was it warm when you dabbed it on my neck for no reason a few days ago?” He pulled you closer to dab the ice pack back on your bruise. “Baby, stay still!”

“I’m getting brain freeze! Stop it!” You giggled and pushed him away.

“You are overreacting! It’s not even 20 minutes yet.”

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