#I’m upset and sad and feel small and alone and FOR WHAT

[jawnjendes]

wowwwwwweeeeeeee

[ivyues]

Rejected Embraces and Heavy Hearts: Stray Kids' reactions to their S/O refusing a hug

Part 2 -> Reconciling Comfort

Bang Chan

Chris approaches you cautiously after a heated argument. His face is filled with concern as he takes a step towards you, arms open, ready to make amends. "I'm sorry... can I at least hold you?" he asks softly.

You instinctively step back, avoiding his gaze, your heart torn but your resolve firm. The weight of the argument lingers between you like a shadow, too heavy to lift just yet.

The slight movement – the step back – hits him like a brick, breaking his heart in a way he didn’t expect. His hopeful smile fades, and his arms drop slowly to his sides, his expression dimming with disappointment.

"I understand… I’ll give you space," he whispers, turning away slowly, unable to hide the sadness in his eyes.

Lee Know

You’re having a tough day, and Lee Know notices right away. He approaches you with a warm smile, attempting to offer comfort. “Hey, can I give you a hug? You look like you need one," he says.

But you shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not now, please…"

His face drops slightly, the familiar sparkle in his eyes dimming. For a moment, his concern deepens, not because you rejected his comfort, but because he worries about why you feel the need to carry this alone. "I just want to make you feel better," he says softly, stepping back a little. "Okay... if you change your mind, I’ll be right here." The hurt in his voice is barely concealed, but he respects your space, though the distance makes him ache inside.

Changbin

After a busy day of work and practice, Changbin’s first instinct is to shower you with affection. He steps toward you with his arms open wide, a big grin on his face. "Finally, we get to relax together! How about a hug?"

But you're too tired and worn out, feeling a bit too much in your head to let him in right now. “I’m just really tired, Binnie,” you say, shaking your head.

Changbin’s grin fades, and a small sigh escapes him. “I get it… I’ll give you time to rest," he says, but the way he slumps a little afterwards shows his disappointment. The warmth of his hug is what he craves, but he respects your space, even if it hurts.

As he steps back, his thoughts begin to weigh on him. When did things come to this point? He thinks, feeling a sense of unease settle in his chest. When did we get to a place where we don’t want comfort from each other?

Hyunjin

Hyunjin walks up to you, apologizing for something he did, his face full of regret. “I didn’t mean to upset you, but can I hug you? Please?” His eyes are filled with sincerity, and he stretches out his arms, hoping to mend things.

But your face is cold, and you cross your arms in front of you, rejecting his offer. “I don’t want a hug right now, Hyunjin,” you say firmly.

The silence that follows is deafening, but it gives him time to reflect. As he stands there, he begins to realize that what he did cut deeper than he had initially thought.

His heart sinks as his hands fall to his sides, and he looks at the ground in silence. "I understand… I’ll just wait until you’re ready," he mumbles, the hurt evident in his voice. He stands there for a while, wishing he did things differently.

Han

Han notices how fragile you seem today – your eyes dull, your posture slouched – and instinctively, he opens his arms wide. "I can tell you're feeling down. Want to just relax in my arms?"

But you step away, shaking your head slowly, your voice trembling. "I just don’t feel like being held right now," you explain softly. As you turn away, his eyes linger on you, and a new fear takes hold of him. He can’t shake the thought that something is consuming you – physically, mentally, or both – and it leaves him feeling powerless.

Han's expression shifts to one of sadness, his arms dropping to his sides. "I just wanted to make you feel safe…" he murmurs, but doesn’t push. The look on his face lingers long after, though, as he quietly retreats, wishing he could ease your pain.

Felix

Felix sees your disappointed face and can’t help but feel guilty. “I’m really sorry for letting you down,” he says, trying to find some way to fix the situation. “Can I give you a hug? I just want to show you that I care."

But you shake your head, taking a step back. “I’m not sure a hug is enough this time…”

Felix's face falls, and the hurt in his eyes is almost palpable. "Okay... I get it," he replies quietly. He stays where he is, arms at his sides, trying to hold it together, but his shoulders slouch slightly as the sadness takes over.

A part of him panics as his thoughts turn to the days ahead. With the tour looming, he realizes he won’t be able to see you for a while, and a deep fear settles in his chest. The thought of being apart, especially with things unresolved, only deepens his concern. What if this distance creates a bigger wedge between you two? What if the time apart only makes things worse?

Seungmin

Seungmin notices how stressed and exhausted you look after a long day. His instinct is to comfort you, to hold you in his arms. “You’ve been through a lot today… do you want a hug?” he asks, his voice gentle.

But you can’t bring yourself to embrace him, your emotions feeling too heavy. “I don’t think I can handle it right now, Seungmin,” you say softly, avoiding his eyes.

He nods slowly, his smile fading as he watches you withdraw. "Okay… if you need me, I’ll be here. Just let me know when you’re ready." His words are comforting, but the sadness in his voice makes him wish you’d let him in.

What he doesn’t say is how desperately he wishes you'd come to him today. Normally, Seungmin isn’t one for physical affection – it’s not his go-to way of showing love – but right now, nothing would bring him more peace than wrapping you in his arms, offering the comfort you need.

I.N

I.N notices you’ve been quiet and distant all day. Concerned, he walks over to you with a gentle smile. "You seem a little down... can I hug you? You don’t have to say anything, just let me hold you," he says, his voice soft with care.

But you shake your head, feeling too embarrassed to be vulnerable in that moment. "I don’t want to be a bother," you murmur.

He blinks, clearly upset by your response. "You're never a bother to me," he says quietly. But as you turn away, he pulls his arms back, disappointment washing over his face, though he doesn’t push you further.

You glance back at him, guilt stirring inside you. The last thing you want is to make him feel like he’s not enough or that your mood is too much to bear. “I’m sorry for pulling down your mood…” you apologize softly, your words almost a whisper, as if you’re trying to take away the weight of your emotions from him. With a heavy heart, you walk away, feeling both distant from him and weighed down by your own feelings.

masterlist

[navybrat817]

Deep in the Woods: Part 2

Pairing: Soft!Dark Lumberjack!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: A relaxing getaway in the woods may become your permanent home when you catch the eye of a lumberjack.

Part 1 | Series Masterlist | Part 3

Chapter Summary: You chat with a friend about the grumpy lumberjack and pay him a visit.

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.5k

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, bits of MCU canon, cheating mentioned (reader's ex), grumpy x sunshine trope, invasive behavior, bits of insecurity, tension, reader is too trusting, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: Next part of our lumberjack is here! ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn’t make small talk when he came back to the table with his second helping. You sat for maybe a minute before you went to clean out your bowl. As pretty as he was to look at, it felt rude to sit there and watch him eat and you weren’t going to force him to chat. Standing at the sink, you felt him staring at you. He didn’t look away either when you snuck a glance at him. He looked fascinated and you couldn't imagine why.

“Do I have food on my face?” you asked, swiping at your cheek when he continued to stare.

“No.” He swallowed his last bite and licked his lips, making your cheeks warm as you looked away. “Was just looking at you.”

You glanced down at yourself, a nervous giggle bubbling up. “Not much to look at,” you mumbled, going back to get his empty bowl. “So, you said early afternoon tomorrow to go to your place. Will 1 o’clock work?”

He leaned back in his chair, nodding. “Should be fine,” he said, observing you in continued curiosity as you finished cleaning up. You weren't used to someone observing you the way he did, and you couldn't pinpoint if the feeling in your stomach was nerves or butterflies. “You trying to kick me out?”

“No,” you said, your brows pinched as you sat back down. “Does it seem like I am?”

“Just cleaning up quickly and asking about tomorrow. Seemed like you were trying to get me out of here.” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I could be wrong.”

“I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.” You hadn’t exactly planned for his company, but you didn’t mind, and you weren’t trying to be a bad hostess. You almost reached across the table to touch his hand but opted to give him a soft smile instead. “It’s nice having you here.”

His gaze softened, his lips inching upward before he cleared his throat. “Any plans for the rest of the day?”

“Not really. I do have to get on my laptop for just a few minutes, but that’s it,” you answered. Since the trip was meant to be a romantic getaway and you were alone now, you didn't have much of anything planned besides relaxing. “You?”

“No,” he said, tilting his head. “Why did you say that earlier?”

“Why did I say what?” you asked.

“That you aren't much to look at,” he said, tilting his head with another tiny smile that made your knees go weak. “You’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, your cheeks hot. “That’s…” You thought for a second that he was joking, but his eyes were serious. The compliment was also completely unexpected, especially from a man who wasn't too welcoming a short time ago. “Thank you, Bucky, but I’m not-”

“Don’t do that. If I made you uncomfortable, just say so.” His cheek twitched and guilt churned in your stomach at the thought of upsetting him. “You don't need to brush off the compliment by trying to put yourself down.”

You looked in your lap, not wanting him to see the sadness in your eyes. Your ex should've called you beautiful, should've made you feel that way, too. And what happened? He strayed. You couldn't hold onto him. As much as you wanted to think there wasn't anything wrong with you, there was still that voice of doubt that said you weren't good enough or pretty enough. Insecurities had a tendency to seep in like poison. What was the remedy for that?

“I wasn't trying to brush off your compliment,” you promised, lifting your gaze. He didn’t look convinced and that made you feel worse. He was only being nice. “It’s just… My confidence is a little shaken and self-deprecating is a defense mechanism, I guess.”

You wanted to run to the bedroom and hide when he regarded you. Why did you tell him that? Why did you tell him anything? He wasn’t your friend or confidant, and it wasn’t fair to unload anything like that onto him.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“Don’t apologize. I understand what it's like,” he said, glancing at his metal hand. “To have your confidence shaken.”

After what he had been through, you could only imagine. “How did you pull yourself out of it?”

“Still working on that,” he replied, his eyes distant as he pushed himself up from his chair. “I should get going.”

“Oh, okay,” you smiled politely and got up to follow him to the door. While it wasn’t your intention to push him out, you may have inadvertently driven him away. “Thanks again for chopping the firewood.” It saved you a lot of trouble.

“Thanks for the meal.” He swept his eyes over you once his boots were on. “Guess we took care of each other, huh?”

“I guess we did,” you said. And you really appreciated his compliment. It felt nice after everything.

You were reminded once again just how large he was when he straightened up, your heart racing when he stood directly in front of you. That close you could smell the forest on his shirt. “Don’t touch that axe again,” he ordered, his voice low and commanding. “If you need anything, you come to me.”

Your throat went dry. He was so dominant in his stance, something in his tone sending a delightful shiver down your spine. There was also a predatory shadow in his eyes that gave you pause. He could eat you alive.

Out here, all alone, he could do anything.

“Say it,” he whispered.

“If I need anything.” You had to clear your throat. ���I’ll come to you.”

Bucky stepped back and took some of the warmth with him. “Lock the door tonight. I need you safe,” he said, leaving without another word.

The silence in the cabin was deafening as you were left alone. Bucky was… something. Curt at times, a bit defensive, and didn’t have regard for your personal space bubble, but you weren’t going to judge his social skills when yours were nowhere near perfect. He also seemed to like your company at least a little and was oddly protective of you.

“Probably thinks I’m just a damsel in distress,” you muttered, going to get your laptop.

You thought back to the conversation you had with Bucky. He was out here for nine months now and had a cat. And you… your stomach sank when you realized you told him you lived alone and worked from home. He already knew you were out there by yourself and you basically implied that no one would realize if you were gone. At least, not right away.

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing the weird feeling away. Bucky Barnes was a hero, and you were a stranger in his territory. It was natural that he’d have questions. You had nothing to worry about.

You decided to sit out on the porch so you could look at the picturesque view again. Part of you wondered what it would be like to live out here full time. To walk outside on a cool morning and inhale the fresh air. To see the sun rise through the trees. You wouldn’t have to worry about the bustling sounds of the city but could instead take in the quiet.

Which was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing.

You smiled when you saw Kenna’s name pop up. She was one of your oldest friends. “Hey,” you answered, putting the phone on speaker so you could continue to type. “What’s up?”

“Hey, girl. Work sucked. I’m seriously considering getting a sugar daddy.” You scoffed. She would never. She hated relying on others. “How about you? How are the woods?”

“Gorgeous,” you smiled, stopping to look around. “Sorry work sucked.”

“It’s whatever. You actually get reception out there in the woods? Nice.”

“So far, so good,” you said. You expected it to be a bit spotty, but it was fine for now.

“And you're feeling okay?” she asked with a hint of concern. “That cabin was supposed to be for-”

“I’m fine. Really.” You didn't want her to worry about that. “But I may have done something kind of stupid.”

“God, you didn't call him, did you?”

“No! No way.” You blocked his number and all social media accounts. You wanted nothing to do with him.

“Then what did you do?” she asked curiously.

“Well, there’s this kind of grumpy, really hot lumberjack who lives near the cabin I’m staying in,” you said, looking around to make sure Bucky wasn’t nearby. It looked like you were all alone. “He wasn’t exactly nice to me when we met earlier today, and I may have snapped at him a little bit.”

“You snapped at a guy who was rude to you? That doesn't sound stupid. Sounds like he deserved it.”

“Yeah, that wasn’t the stupid part,” you said, taking a breath. “I may have told him that I am here all alone for the next couple of weeks,” you blurted out, leaving out that he knew you lived alone, too, and that the grump in question was Bucky Barnes.

Your face scrunched up when you waited for Kenna’s response. “Oh, sweetie…” There it was, the condescending tone complete with a “sweetie” on top. “Why would you tell him that?”

“I don't know!” you exclaimed, lowering your voice with a sigh, “Because I’m an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot.” There was a pause on the other end. “I mean, you did kind of shine a beacon over yourself that says ‘hey, take advantage of me!’ because your self preservation skills aren’t the sharpest, but I know that wasn't your intention.”

You made a face at the phone, your fingers taping the keys harder than you needed to. “Wow. So, I am an idiot and anything that happens to me is my fault?” you asked. You were being defensive when Kenna was only being honest, which you appreciated. But being in the woods, the only thing you should have to worry about was bears, not people with bad intentions.

“No! That’s not what I meant. You just see the world in a much brighter light than most of us do, you know? You feel like you can trust people to have your best interest at heart when you open up to them because you choose to see the good. But the reality is, the world isn't that bright, and most look out for themselves first.”

“Rose colored glasses, I know,” you said, softer this time.

“Listen, I shouldn't have said you put a beacon on yourself. People who do bad things are the ones at fault, not the people they take advantage of.” There was another pause. “Maybe you won’t have to worry about this guy but try to be careful.”

“I will,” you said. You had to look out for yourself.

“And before you say more, let me guess. You were nice to the grump after you snapped at him?”

“You know me too well,” you smiled sheepishly. “I fed him.”

“Oh, God, he tasted your cooking? Yeah, you’re in danger,” Kenna teased. She always praised your cooking skills. “He’ll probably be on the doorstep every day asking for a meal and you’ll give him one.”

You giggled. “Because I’m a pushover?”

“It’s because you’re a good person, so stop with the self-deprecating,” she said. First Bucky, now Kenna. “If I could just give you some of my pessimism and you give me some of your optimism, we’d be perfect.”

“The perfect blend,” you said, though you didn't think Kenna was that pessimistic. She was just realistic.

“Also in your defense, a hot grumpy lumberjack is like something out of a romance novel. I probably would've jumped his bones.”

“Trust me, you would,” you said. Bucky was drop-dead gorgeous, and he would probably have fun with Kenna. Why did that thought make you feel sick? “He has a cat. And he said I was beautiful,” you said, your heart skipping a beat from the memory.

“Oh, he did, did he? Okay, I know I just told you to be careful, but… maybe this guy can blow your back out.” You looked around again and debated taking her off speakerphone when you thought you heard a twig snap in the distance. “I mean, you deserve multiple orgasms after what he who shall not be named put you through.”

“Kenna…” you sighed, not in the mood to discuss your ex. She never liked him but tried to tolerate him for you while you dated. You were grateful she didn’t say “told you so” when you broke up. “I just met this guy.”

“And? People go to bars and leave with people all the time. And all I’m saying is that your ex is out of the picture, and you have some wounds exposed,” she said carefully, not wanting to upset you. “So let this guy lick them clean if he offers. Let him lick something. I mean, he’s a lumberjack. He’s probably pent up and a beast in bed.”

Heat spread between your thighs before you mentally dumped a bucket of cold water on yourself. No way did Bucky want you. “So, I’m no longer supposed to be careful. I’m supposed to let him, what, fuck me?” you asked.

“Be careful and let him fuck you. Establish boundaries but have fun over the next couple of weeks. Go see his cat and then show him yours.”

You burst out laughing and covered your mouth so the sound wouldn’t echo. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m also the best,” she stated. She really was. “And who knows? This could be the start of something new.”

“I don’t think…” You sat up when another twig snapped, this one closer. You couldn’t see anything when you did a quick scan from your seat. “Hey, what would you think about coming out here for a couple of days so I’m not alone the whole time?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end. She was probably looking at her calendar. “Hmm. I’ll try to swing it with work, but no promises. I’ll keep you posted,” she said.

“Yeah, just call or text me,” you said, shutting your laptop. If she couldn’t, maybe one of your other friends wouldn’t mind spending some time away from the city. “I gotta go.”

“Me, too. Take care. Carry pepper spray. Be safe,” she said, hanging up.

You slowly went to the edge of the porch and looked around the side of the cabin. There was a good chance the sounds came from an animal nearby, maybe a deer. You could blame the chill that ran through your body on the breeze. It was getting darker though and not being able to see much beyond the nearby trees didn’t soothe your sudden nerves.

With a shake of your head, you went back inside. No one was there. You were just being paranoid.

Locking the door like Bucky instructed, you breathed a bit easier and wondered what you’d cook for him tomorrow. Something not too heavy since it was for lunch, but tasty. It was nice to have someone to cook for since the plan was to cook for two for the next two weeks.

You also thought about what Kenna said. Would there be any harm if anything transpired between you and Bucky? It would be nice to have some fun, but that wasn’t really your style. You were always a relationship kind of person. And Bucky, well, you had no clue what he wanted.

“Forget it,” you muttered.

Curling up on the sofa, your heart ached as you stared between the board games on the shelf and the small fireplace. There really wasn’t much to do by your lonesome, but there was reading. Television. And you wouldn’t put stock in Bucky spending lots of time with you while you were there. He wasn’t responsible for you.

Sniffling, you curled into yourself more. The cabin was meant to be filled with laughter, sounds of pleasure, and more. Not silence. But you’d still have a nice time. You owed it to yourself. And if anything, maybe you’d end the trip with a new friend.

You were in much better spirits when you headed to Bucky’s cabin the next day. The spring in your step was partially thanks to the good night's sleep you had after reading. The bed was extra comfortable, and you woke up bright and refreshed. You could get used to that feeling.

The other spring in your step was, well, because you were having lunch with Bucky. You didn’t want to admit how long you took to pick out an outfit in between making lunch and baking cookies. It wasn’t like you were trying to get his attention or impress him, but you still wanted to look nice and presentable. And you wouldn't allow the thought of loneliness to dampen your mood.

“Wow,” you whispered when his cabin came into sight. It was larger than the one you were in, simplistic and beautiful in design, and had a wraparound porch. You wondered how often he sat on the porch swing and if he brought Alpine out with him.

Taking a breath as you walked up the stairs, you gently knocked on the door. You didn’t know why you were nervous. It was just lunch with Bucky. A handsome, brooding-

You didn’t realize that Bucky had opened the door until you blinked, his blue eyes locked with yours. How many people cowered under his stare? He took up almost the entire door frame and a tiny sound escaped your lips when you noticed he was shirtless. The man had no shirt on.

You bit your lip involuntarily, trying your damnedest not to leer. Were you supposed to look at his massive chest? The scars on his left shoulder? The metal arm? Or was your gaze supposed to dip down past his torso to his jeans and… No. No. You weren’t supposed to stare at all.

“Right on time.” His voice was gruff, holding a hand out to take your bag. “Did you have a good night?”

“Um, yeah. Did a bit of reading and went to bed early.” His fingers touched yours when you handed the bag over and you let it linger longer than you should’ve. It wasn't like there was any tension between you two, right? “You?”

“Yeah. Uneventful,” he said before he deadpanned, “You staring at me?”

Your mouth fell open as he raised an eyebrow. Saying yes would make you look like a creep and saying no might hurt his feelings. “Well, you’re shirtless,” you answered, making a point to look away when you gestured to him. You felt kind of bad looking, but it also felt wrong to not look. As if that was an excuse. “You’re not cold?”

“It’s warm in here and I run warm as it is.” He didn’t look at all embarrassed when you snuck another glance at him. “It’s also more comfortable with the arm sometimes to go shirtless,” he explained, giving you just enough room to squeeze past him. You couldn’t stop your body from pressing against his since he didn’t provide much room and you hoped he didn’t notice the hitch in your breath. “If it bothers you-”

“This is your home and I want you comfortable,” you said, putting some distance between you once he shut the door. If he wanted to go shirtless, you wouldn’t stop him. You could deal with him and his sexiness for a short time and get through a meal.

“I appreciate that,” he said, taking your coat and purse. “Make yourself at home.”

You lingered in the living room. Rustic with the exposed wood beams, but cozy and inviting with the plush sofa and chairs. The large stone fireplace drew your attention, along with the rug in front of it. The perfect place to sit and gaze into a fire on a cold night.

You moved close to the mantle to look at the three photos that rested there. One was of the sun shining on a large body of water with trees on each side. It looked warm and peaceful.

The second was Bucky with two other men, all three of them in leather jackets. You recognized them after taking a closer look: Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson, heroes just like Bucky. While they looked relaxed and happy, Bucky wasn’t smiling at all.

Was that photo taken before or after the tough mission?

But the third photo wasn’t a photo at all. It was an empty picture frame. Where was the picture?

“Wakanda.”

You jumped and spun around, nearly bumping the mantle with Bucky so close. Your racing heart didn’t go back to normal immediately. How did he move around so quietly? “Wakanda?” you repeated.

He nodded to the first picture frame. “Where that photo was taken. It was right outside of my hut, sometime after I started healing. I didn’t have any nightmares that day.” His smile was soft as he reminisced. “It was a peaceful time.”

You smiled softly, too. He deserved peace. “It’s a beautiful view,” you said. The view he had there was beautiful and peaceful, too.

“I assume you know who Steve and Sam are?” You nodded in confirmation. “That was Sam’s birthday. He made us take a picture together and insisted on framing it.” He rolled his eyes, but there was affection there that he couldn’t hide. “I only have it up here because Steve said it would hurt his feelings if I threw it out.”

You looked at the photo again. Bucky’s hair wasn’t as long as it was now and his stance wasn’t as stiff, but the brooding expression was there. “I think that’s nice,” you smiled. It was good that he had friends. “And what about that frame?”

His jaw clenched, his fingers grazing the glass. “It’ll be a family photo,” he whispered longingly. “One day.”

Your heart broke for him and the urge to soothe him skyrocketed. Before you could stop yourself you put a hand on his arm. His muscles tensed under your touch and you pulled away, regretting your action immediately. “I’m sorry I touched you.” You felt terrible. You should’ve asked. “I’m sure it’ll be a beautiful photo. A beautiful family photo for your beautiful home,” you assured him as he let out a breath. He’d have that one day like he wanted.

He leaned in close, his lips close to skimming your ear. “Your touch doesn’t bother me,” he whispered like it was a secret between you before he pulled away. If he caught you quivering, he didn’t say so. “If you think this room is beautiful, wait ‘til you see the rest of the place,” he said, leading you away and not mentioning the family photo again.

You gasped when he brought you to the kitchen, your eyes bright as you took in the room. The rustic and cozy theme continued and you wondered if Bucky built the cabinets. You envied the open concept and counterspace and you wanted to weep over the large stove. The kitchen was the heart of a home and it was very much true for Bucky’s place.

“You like it?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? I love it,” you said, running a hand along one of the counters. You didn’t miss the way his chest puffed out with pride. “My kitchen is so small, but a space like this…”

He unpacked the bag of food you brought, giving you a sideways glance. “Maybe you can cook here,” he casually stated.

Your eyes lit up. “Really?” you smiled, nearly throwing yourself into his arms. You refrained. “I can cook here?”

“Yeah, really,” he said, tucking his hair back. Standing in front of the counter, shirtless, his hair down, he looked like a wet dream. “Like I said, I’m not as good of a cook as you. It’ll be nice to get some better use out of it.”

You clapped your hands giddily and he actually smiled a full blown smile. “Thank you, Bucky. Really,” you said. You’d make something extra special. “I hope you like the sliders. I made cookies, too.”

He turned to face you, his muscles rippling as he stepped a little closer. This man really didn’t understand personal space, did he? “How did you know I wanted dessert?” he asked, that husky tone back in his voice. Was he implying… No.

It was like Kenna was both the angel and devil on your shoulders, one telling you to flirt a little, and the other telling you to play it safe. “Just a guess,” you said lightly, going for something in the middle.

You didn't feel like you could breathe properly until he stepped back. “I almost forgot…” he trailed off, sauntering from the room.

You swallowed as you stayed rooted to the spot. What did he forget about? That he was still walking around without a shirt on?

Bucky came back with a beautiful cat in his arms, and you were close to swooning. It was quite the sight seeing a shirtless Bucky Barnes holding a cat, who looked at you with a curious stare. You didn't blame her for staring. You were a stranger in her home.

“Al, this is the woman I was telling you about,” he said, making your heart flutter when he said your name. He actually talked about you to her? It didn't mean anything special. He probably told her that a new visitor was stopping by. “Can you say hi?”

Alpine gently meowed, bringing a smile to your face. Bucky smiled, too. They made quite the pair.

“You can hold out your hand for her,” he said.

You did so gently, not wanting to startle her. “Hey, Alpine,” you smiled.

Her nose tickled your fingers before she nuzzled it, urging you to pet her. You did so, which earned you a purr in response. It was nice to get her seal of approval since Bucky said she was particular with people.

“Wanna hold her?” Bucky offered.

“If she’ll let me,” you said.

As soon as you held out your arms, Alpine crawled into them. Bucky looked pleased when she got comfortable and continued to purr. “She really likes you.”

“I like her, too,” you smiled down at the feline. She was a sweetheart.

“Perfect…”

You glanced up to find Bucky holding up his phone. “Sorry. Just thought it would be a nice photo,” he said, his expression not at all apologetic as he showed you the picture he took of you holding Alpine. “You don't mind, do you?”

“Oh, no. That’s fine,” you said. Maybe he didn't have pictures of others holding her.

He glanced at the photo again and nodded. “I might have to frame this one,” he said, tucking his phone away.

Your smile wavered as he grabbed a couple of plates. That wasn't weird, was it? No. It was just a guy wanting a sweet photo of his cat.

“Let’s eat,” he said, rubbing his chiseled stomach. “I’m starving.”

We deserve a shirtless Bucky, don't we? Is that photo going in that empty frame? What do we think will happen next? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[ch-4-eri]

A little sad masturbation that’s fueled by loneliness, I’m sorry this is sad, self projecting.

Abby was lying on her bunk bed, thinking and thinking as images of you clouded her mind, took over her body. she kept staring at the ceiling of her bed at the stadium, she couldn’t get you out of her head.

You were one of the few newer recruits Manny said he didn’t trust. And she usually trusted his judgment, immediately backed him up with whatever he said but boy was he wrong, she couldn’t help it, recalling her brief interactions with you, prettiest girl she’s ever seen.

You confused her, She was a mess, you completely changed her life in a way she wasn’t ready for.

She was always sure she liked men, but as soon as her eyes fell on you, your body, those eyes, her breath caught in her throat and her palms were so sweaty that her palms printed against her cargo pants.

She thought it was just a crush, it would pass, but as more days went by, the more she saw you, she felt that again and again and again.

Except now she was lying in her bed, Manny out with yet another woman, the room was entirely empty as her thoughts were getting louder, and her clit ached some more.

Abby bites her lip as she guiltily takes the initiative and starts groping herself, tightening her grip on her throat as her hand went down her sweatpants she usually wore for bed, as soon as her middle finger made small contact with her clit she whimpered, groping her tits as she shoved two fingers inside of herself, fucking herself to the thought of you.

She took off all her clothes and lied back down naked in her bed so she can easily touch herself without any restrictions, still having your image in her mind as she shoved two fingers in her mouth, the other two inside of her throbbing cunt, she was a mess, moaning and crying out as she pleasured herself to the thought of your eyes, wondering what it would feel like if it were your hands inside of her mouth, Abby lost control entirely, groping herself more and more knowing she’d be sore the next day.

Grabbing a pillow and placing it between her beefy thighs, eyes closed and mouth hung open as drool seeped down her chin and over her hands.

The pressure of the pillow hitting her clit as she moved her hips back and forth was too good, and she was desperate, out of her mind as she moans your name, pretending the pillow was your gorgeous face while imagining your tongue licking up her pussy as she arched her back and rode her pillow a little faster.

She was breathing heavily, drool and cum everywhere.

she had no idea how many times she kept going, Abby never usually let herself go like this, she was too disciplined.. at least she thought she was, but as she was riding her own fingers to yet reach that spine licking orgasm she needed more than air; she couldn’t care less about the way she’s behaving with her own body, grabbing and squeezing herself, toying with her nipples, with her clit, touching her stomach ever so slowly to cause goosebumps to rise on her rough skin and her tense muscles.

All the while she’s trying so hard not to cry, it felt too good for her to be doing this by herself, she wanted you— no.. needed you.

As the orgasm rushed through her, Abby finally let herself go and cried, and as she cried into her hands, sticky fingers rubbed against her forehead with her cum smearing it, wet and thick.

She was ecstatic, but so fucking upset all at once, it hurt to find out she’s all alone, and the way she handled her own body, she felt so guilty for thinking of you that way too, it was all toppling down on her, guilt and shame altogether.

She needed to tell you how she felt.

[teliphone]

Venomous

Jackie Taylor x Fem Reader x Shauna Shipman

Summary: Shauna watches you devote yourself to Jackie. She doesn't understand how you could do that. She loathes being in someone's shadow, but tragically, in one herself. To make herself feel better, her sick mind turns to you. You’re just too sweet and kind… Shauna knows what you want. 

Warning(s): Smut, slight angst, toxic relationships, oral, bullying, degrading, pain

Word count: 3k

-

Shauna crosses her arms, hiding her clenched fists. Her face expresses slight annoyance as she watches her best friend Jackie ignore you again. Shauna never understood why you decided to stay with Jackie, considering how poorly she treats you. She is starting to think it’s some sick kink you have, to be rejected and belittled. 

You stand in front of them, hands trembling, exposing your nervousness. It’s sad how anxious you are to ask your girlfriend on a simple date. It shouldn’t be like this. 

“H-hi Jackie… I was wondering if you're free this-“ 

“I’m not,” Jackie sighs. She doesn’t bother giving you a second glance. Her eyes lock onto her phone, quickly texting someone. Your cheeks turn red from the blunt rejection. You gulp down your sorrow as your eyes flicker to Shauna. She continues to remain silent, just watching your heart break. 

Most of the time, when Shauna sees you, it is you tagging along with Jackie like a puppy on a leash. She orders you around, which you, of course, fully heartedly listen. Bitterness would linger in Shauna’s mouth when she watches you scrambling to grab Jackie napkins at that one dinner. 

Your life evolves around Jackie and Shauna understands. She knows what it is like to live under someone else’s shadow… but why did it seem like you’re okay with it? It angers her how weak you are. She always felt like she had more to life than to live like this. To rule. Own something. To have power.

“Oh… that’s okay! Maybe next time. I’ll wait for you,” You try your best to smile, disregarding how tight your heart squeezes. Jackie smiles back and gently rubs your head like you’re her pet.  

“Thank you. You’ve always been so considerate,” She compliments. You lean into the touch lovingly. Shauna lets out a scoff. She can practically see you wagging your tail at the smallest praise. Jackie removes her hand and averts her attention to Shauna. 

“Come on, let’s go,” She chirps. Shauna watches Jackie strut down the halls before she turns to tower over you. You nervously gulp while silently glaring at her. You didn’t hate Shauna… you were just jealous of her. 

Shauna always gets to do everything with Jackie. Everywhere Jackie goes, there she is. You wish it could be you instead. You beg to spend a full day alone with Jackie. 

“You should stop being pathetic,” Shauna whispers loud enough just for you. Your face scrunches in anger. You ignore the way your heart rate starts to pick up; Shauna is just really good at making you upset. You bite your tongue to stop yourself from snapping. 

Shauna smirks at your inner struggle before walking away to catch up with Jackie. You stand in place, your hands shaking. 

-

It’s been a week since Shauna called you pathetic. The days leading up to now consist of her cornering you and making you feel small. You’re starting to get irritated. Her words consume you. Even when holding hands with Jackie, you can hear Shauna in the back of your mind. 

Shauna stands by her locker with a blank face. She looks around curiously, wondering where her best friend is. Suddenly, her phone vibrates. She reaches down into her pockets and quickly scans the text. She shoves her phone into her pocket and sighs. Jackie texted her to meet her “asap”.  As much as she hates being ordered around, she always listens to Jackie. 

Shauna starts making her way over, ignoring everyone who looks at her. She makes it to one of the classrooms and calmly opens the door. Sounds of soft moans and grunts reach her ears first, making her heart race. Her eyes widen and her breathing stops. 

Inside the classroom are Jackie and you. You’re sitting on top of Jackie’s lap, jerking your lower body against her. Your cheeks are red as you tilt your head back in pleasure. Whiny moans escape your lips while Jackie lazily jerks her fingers in your core. You feel her two digits filing, curling, and pressing against your gummy walls.

“You feel so good,” You moan. Jackie tilts her head up to look at your face. She smiles sweetly at your praises. She pulls her fingers out and teases you by pinching your clit. You gasp and reach down to grip her wrist. Jackie leans forward and licks your ear. You hum sweetly.  

“…Shauna’s here,” She whispers. You immediately tense up. The pleasure vanishes and is replaced with shame and embarrassment. You attempt to get off Jackie, but she tightens her grip on your waist. 

“Give her a show,” Jackie taunts. You shake your head no, words unable to come out. Jackie ignores you and pinches your clit again. You cry out in pain and pleasure. Your hands slide up to hold onto her shoulder, panting into her ear. Shauna bites her lower lip as she feels herself getting hotter. Her eyes never leave your figure. Soaking every reaction your body does. 

“Jackie, stop,” You moan, jerking your core away from her wet fingers. Jackie rolls her eyes. Your pussy is so wet and slippery she doesn’t want to. She wants to shove her fingers in, but decides to stop for your sake. You tiredly get off her lap and scatter to grab your pants. Jackie tilts her head and smirks at Shauna, who hasn’t moved or said anything yet. Jackie brings her hands up to her face and slowly moves them side to side. Examining how your wetness glistens against her fingers. She gets up from the seat and walks over to Shauna, who takes a nervous step back. 

“Shipman,” Jackie chirps. Shauna clenches her jaw at how her last name rolls off her tongue. 

“Why did you do that?” She questions. Jackie softly giggles, tilting her head cutely. 

“You think I haven’t noticed how you look at her,” Jackie reveals, her eyes glaring deep into Shauna’s. 

Jackie had noticed Shauna becoming too quiet whenever she mentions you… It made her suspicious. She started observing how Shauna stares a little too long at you. Or how she whispers to you, sharing secrets behind her back. So Jackie decided to start treating you badly. Just to prove to Shauna that you’re wrapped around her fingers, literally and figuratively. She drags Shauna along to make sure she sees how you still hang on like a piece of forgotten gum.  

Shauna averts her stare, feeling intimidated by Jackie. Jackie lightly chuckles. She bites her bottom lip in excitement. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not that mad… I honestly don’t even know if I love her,” Jackie shrugs. She lifts her fingers to Shauna’s lips. Her eyes dilate as a sick idea pops into her head. 

“She is mine… but it’s kinda funny if you want her too.” Jackie’s fingers, covered with silk, hover over Shauna’s lips. Jackie didn’t want to share, but she is controlling this situation. This is more pleasing to her. 

“Why don’t you get a taste?”

Shauna jerks her head to look over at you. You stand awkwardly by the seat with your head down. She can see your chest moving up and down fast. A red blush on your soft, wet cheeks. 

“Come on… my hands are tired,” Jackie giggles, wiggling her fingers. Shauna dryly swallows before clenching her jaw. She slaps Jackie’s hands away. 

“I won’t play into your game,” She spits before walking out. Jackie stands speechless, then lets out a laugh of disbelief. She couldn’t believe Shauna suddenly grew braver. She slowly turns around and looks at you. You shyly squeeze your legs together. 

“Come here and don’t you fucken dare tell me to stop,” Jackie grunts. 

-

Shauna feels her blood boiling as she walks away from the scene. She ignores how wet her panties have gotten, rubbing pleasurably against her core as she walks. She enters the bathroom and slams the stall door closed. She lowers the toilet seat covers and takes a seat.

“Fuck,” She cusses, fumbling to shove her hands in her pants. Once the tip of her finger touches her folds, she bites her lip. Wetness leaks out, coating her fingers. She starts rubbing her clit urgently. She curses Jackie and your name angrily. Who the fuck does Jackie think she is?! The image of you tilting your head back and moaning flashes in her mind. She rubs herself faster. 

“Fuck you,” She moans. She hates how your body feverishly chases after Jackie’s finger like you’re some type of slut. She hates how whiny and soft your moans are. She hates how you love to praise Jackie for how good she is.

Shauna knows she can be better. 

She imagines herself touching you, making you blush and nervous. Her eyes start to roll back as she gets closer to her high. She rubs herself aggressively a few more times til she comes, biting her lip hard to not make a sound. Her chest moves up and down as she pulls her hand out of her pants. Wetness rolls down her knuckles. She blushes in embarrassment. 

She's furious… you, out of everyone… made her come.

-

Shauna’s bullying became worse. When she finds you alone without Jackie, she would sinisterly smile. 

First, she loves to pull on your hair. She is addicted to hearing you wince in pain as she grips your hair. She forces you to lock eyes with her. 

“Jackie doesn’t even love you. You’re nothing without her,” She whispers harshly. Your eyes begin to water as you try to pull yourself away from her. She doesn’t let go until you're begging her like a sobbing mess. 

Second, she sickly loves to call you names. She would cuss at you for being stupid for no reason. Laughs and calls you a slut. Sometimes she would suddenly call you cute while she degrades you. It makes your mind jumble and glitch. 

It’s worse when she does both at the same time. 

Shauna’s hand aggressively tugs your head, making you fall to your knees. You claw at her hands with your fingers. She chuckles and only grips harder. 

“You’re so weak. Look at you,” She hums, towering over you. She tugs your head closer to her clothed core and lets out a shaky breath. Her eyes dilated from seeing you kneel before her. 

“I can’t wait to fucken ruin you. You’re just a perfect little bitch for me,” She chuckles. Your cheeks turn bright red, ignoring how your core throbs. She watches you clench your thighs together. She rolls her eyes and shoves her foot on top of your core. She presses her foot down, making you wince. 

“Are you getting wet? I can’t believe you’re getting turned on by being treated like shit,” She smiles. She removes her foot and pushes your head, causing you to stumble onto the ground. She then spits a clear glob right next to you. Missing your face by a few centimeters. Your breathing shakes as you lie still. Tears drip from your eyes, but it’s more embarrassing how your pussy aches. 

“Do what I say and maybe I’ll start treating you better,” Shauna says before walking away. 

-

Your relationship with Jackie seems to hit the biggest stumbling block. Your mind is crowded with Shauna. You dream about her touching you and wake up wet. You walk down the hallways with your eyes nervously checking to see if Shauna is heading to bully you again. She has successfully broken you down till you're suffocating and craving her.

Today is different. Just slightly. 

Shauna shoves you hard against the wall. You grunt in pain from the impact. She places her arm over your collarbone, pinning you to the wall. You try wiggling yourself out, but it is no use. She grins sinisterly with her teeth. Her brown eyes were blown out and dilated. She leans her face closer to yours, hovering her lips over yours. 

You seem to shrink under her gaze. You tilt your head down, looking at the closeness between her body. Her thighs are slotted between. Her core rests on top of yours. Every time she would move, her body would grind against yours.

“You’re sad to look at… It’s laughable,” She chuckles. You clench your jaw and glare at her. Tears threaten to fall from the corners of your eyes. It emotionally hurts. Shauna’s word stabs your heart because… It’s true. Everything she has been teasing you about is true… and God, do you feel pathetic. 

Jackie never did care about you. She “forgets” everything about you. She cuts your conversation short, claiming that she is busy. You’ve been pushed by her countless times… it’s truly sad how you still beg for a sprinkle of her attention. 

“Are you crying?” Shauna taunts, lowering her head to examine you closely. You shut your eyes and sniff as a weak attempt to stop crying. Your bottom lashes are wet while you glare at her. 

“Leave me alone. You’ve hurt me enough,” You beg. Tears start to run down your cheeks. A blush appears on your cheeks from embarrassment. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. 

Shauna’s breathing shakes as she watches a tear roll down your cheeks. She finds you so pitiful, it makes her feel butterflies. She lifts her thumb to wipe your wet cheeks. Your breathing hicks at her sudden sweet gesture. You nervously look up into her eyes. They’re soft and dilated. You swore you could feel like she does care in that moment. But Shauna is a wolf in disguise. You knew better than to warm up to her. 

“I didn’t hurt you… Jackie did,” She shushes you. Your lips start to tremble, and tears threaten to fall more. She lowers her face to yours. Her hands softly brush your hair. You sniff, taking in what she said. She watches your face scrunch in confusion. 

“I love Jackie,” You breathe out. You lift your head at the sudden boost of confidence.

“I love Jackie and I don’t fucken care how she treats me,” You snap. Shauna chuckles darkly. You’re so obedient… Jackie is so lucky.

“You like Jackie that much?” She mumbles. You quickly nod your head, hoping it is enough for her to move on. 

It’s funny you thought that was enough. 

“Close your fucking eyes,” She snaps. You flutter your eyes shut before you feel her press her plump lips against yours. You gasp, causing her to deepen the kiss. Her tongue slowly flicks against yours. You clench your fist to limit yourself from grunting. She pulls away, breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide and lustful.

“Imagine I’m Jackie,” Shauna whispers before leaning back in to kiss you. Her hands lower to hold onto your waist. She rubs her core against yours slowly. 

“Kiss me like how you would kiss her,” She says between the kisses. Your heart skips a beat. Your mind and body fight against each other. But once her teeth nibble your bottom lip, all your morals disappear. You moan loudly and start kissing her back. Your hands reach up to grip her hair. 

You think of Jackie just like what Shauna said and it helps. Truthfully, Shauna has been making you sexually aroused for the past week. You can’t help it. 

Your tongue brushes against hers. Feeling her wet, warm tongue makes you turn on. Shauna pulls away and places her hands on top of your head. You attempt to open your eyes, but Shauna stops you. 

“Kneel and praise me like how you do it to Jackie,” She pants. You feel your body heating up as you kneel. You hear Shauna taking off her pants in a hurry. 

She comes back and places her hand back on top of your head. She tugs your head and guides you to her aching pussy. Her arousal scent numbs your mind. You obediently stick out your tongue. Her warm folds slide against your tongue. She cusses and jerks her core into your mouth. You reach up to hold onto her tense thighs. She grips your head harder. 

“Fuck… baby you’re so pretty like this. You like being used?” She grunts. You moan out a soft yes before wrapping your lips around her clit. She places two hands onto your head, digging her fingers into your skull. Your knees start to hurt from the hard floor. You shift a little to get more comfortable. She shoves you deeper into her pussy. 

“Keep sucking me stupid slut. Don’t think of anything else,” She hisses. You flick your tongue against her clit before sucking hard. Her thighs tense and shake. You try your best to ignore the constant leak from your pussy. There’s a high chance your panties have a small, dark, damp spot.

“I’m gonna… you're gonna make me come,” Shauna manages to moan out. She continues riding against your tongue, cursing, and moaning. 

“Open your eyes,” She grunts. You slowly open your eyes to see her red cheeks. Her stomach tenses at eye contact. You can no longer imagine it’s Jackie… instead, it’s Shauna that clouds you. She’s the one you taste. She’s the one who’s going to come in your mouth. 

Shauna lets out a loud moan as she releases her juice into your mouth. You flatten your tongue and lap her core like you didn’t want to miss a single drop. Her silk runs down your chin as you pull away from her pussy. A wet trail connects between her core and your lips. She lazily brushes your hair. Her eyelids are heavy as she smiles. 

“Tell me you love me,” She whispers. She is sick. She feels so much lust for fucking her best friends girlfriend. She can’t help it. She wanted to consume everything that Jackie had to make herself feel better. To make herself feel like she isn’t in Jackie's shadow. You stare up at her with teary eyes. 

“I love you,” You confess. You don't know if you love her or the way she treats you.

[pitchsidestories]

look at us now (2) II Renée Slegers x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | part 1 | word count: 1695

summary: the team tries to figure out if Renée and reader are in a relationship or just friendly with each other. requested

author's note: hi everyone, we hope you enjoy the fanfic as much as part one. 🫶🏻🫶🏻

disclaimer: Everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Rekindling your relationship with Renée had brought back the same feelings that you had when you dated her back in Sweden. Everything was easy with Renée. You felt safe and secure, loved and cared for. And you loved taking care of her too by making sure she didn’t work until late at night and took enough breaks. The only difference to back then was that this time you decided to keep it a secret.

It should have been easy. You two were professionals after all. But seeing Renée so deflated after Arsenal just lost to Chelsea, made it really hard not to walk over and put your arms around her.

As if she was looking for your closeness, she appeared next to you in the tunnel.

“We were so close.”, she sighed.

You gently put your hand on her upper arm, trying your best to stay positive: “Don’t be upset. It was a good game.”

“I’m not upset. Our team did well but what am I going to tell them? They will be sad and disappointed because of the loss…”

You studied her for a moment, unsure if she was actually talking about your team or herself.

“You’ll find the right words, Renée. You’re never at a loss for words.”, you smiled gently.

Renée didn’t answer. She turned towards the pitch, making sure that no one could see the two of you hidden in the dark hallway leading towards the dressing rooms. And then she kissed you.

It was quick and grateful. A small gesture to let you know that she was happy to have you in her corner.

When you pulled away, you quickly realised that you weren’t alone anymore.

The Chelsea coach passed by, her assistant by her side and to your surprise she winked at you.

“I think your players are looking for you two.“, she said with her strong French accent.

“Oh… uhm , thanks.”, you stammered, the shock of being caught still lingering.

She left with a knowing smile on her lips: “De rien.”

“I think what she wanted to say was you’re welcome. Come on, the girls need us.”, Renée grinned, seemingly unbothered by the interaction and dragged you with her back towards the pitch.

“Hope you have some ideas for your speech now.“, you laughed.

“I do.”

Before Renée could gather the team, Kim came up to you. She frowned, holding herself like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen your captain so devastated.

“I’m sorry, coach. I don’t know why I tried to stop Lauren James in the penalty area.”, she apologized, her voice steady but not free of frustration.

Your heart ached for your captain.

“It happens and it’s okay. You were trying to help the defence out. Yes, maybe we lost the match today but also showed that we can keep up with Chelsea. And this is what we should take away from this game.”, Renée said patiently as more and more players formed a circle around you.

Leah clapped her hands with a determined face: “That’s right. We get up and learn from it. Next time, we’ll beat them.”

“Exactly that.”, Renée nodded. The blonde defender's words of encouragement seemed to lighten the load on the players' shoulders a little. Only one footballer looked completely miserable.

As you whispered in Kim’s ear, you hugged her gently:” Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kimmy.”

“I’ll try to.”, she replied with an unhappy smile.

“Promise?”

‘Sure,’ the captain shrugged before making her way to the changing room. It was heartbreaking to see her in this state.

On another evening you attended your first dinner with the team. Between the starters and the main course, Alessia asked you something private, to which you laughed awkwardly.

Reprovingly you clicked your tongue: “Alessia.”

“What I was asking you a simple question.”, she answered, sounding quite innocent.

“That’s not a question that belongs here.”, you stated.

The blonde immediately protested not without a smile:” If you’re seeing anyone? But you know everything about us.”

“Just because you tell her a lot about yourself doesn't mean she has to.”, Renée came to your aid.

With a teasing smile on your lips, you added: “And I never asked you to share everything with me. And I mean literally everything.”

“Hey, why are you looking at me while you said that?!”, Kyra pouted.

“Because I really don’t need to know what you’ve for breakfast. Every day.”, you chuckled.

The Australian midfielder couldn't help but burst out laughing too:” A girl likes to yap, okay?”

“Everyone here knows.”, Steph assured her, patting her lightly on the shoulder.

Caitlin, who was sitting next to them, confirmed it.

You needed a moment for yourself, so you went to the dimly lit restaurant’s bathroom, your girlfriend followed a few minutes later.

There was an amused twinkle in her brown eyes:” Our players are very interested in your love life.”

“I don’t know why though.”, you sighed as she hugged you from behind.

In a sincere tone Renée retorted: “Me neither.”

“When can we go to your place?”, you asked your girlfriend longingly.

“Not yet. They might notice.”

“Maybe we should leave around different times? So, it’s not too obvious.”, you suggested. co

The brunette thought about it for a second, then announced: “Good idea. I’ll leave first.”

After Renée was gone, Beth noticed: “Coach left early.”,

“You know her, there’s always work.”, you waved it off.

“And she likes to be prepared.”, Leah continued.

With a glance at the clock, you realized:” But it’s also late, girls.”

“Don’t say you’re going too.”, Kyra looked at you with big eyes.

“Yes, I am. Bye everyone.”, you told the players.

As soon as you were out of sight, Beth turned excitedly to her teammates: “Girls, did you notice how long the farewell hug was between Renée and our new assistant coach?”

“You’re overinterpreting here, Beth.”, Stina countered.

Quickly, Alessia disagreed: “I think she has a point.”                                 

“Oh, please.”, the Swede rolled her eyes.

“But she didn’t want to talk about it either.”, the English striker reminded the fellow blonde.

A smile lit up Leah's face when she admitted: “Yes, that was suspicious.”

Stina shook her head: “They’ve been over it for a long time.”

“If you say so…”, Beth shrugged, ending the conversation but the sparkle in her eyes was evidence enough that she wasn’t ready to drop the topic yet.

A week later, Arsenal faced Manchester City. The game was chaotic and all over the place. You could barely stay in your seat watching your players move around the pitch. Subconsciously, you cringed. Finally, you had enough. You got up and joined Renée on the sideline.

“Oh, I can’t look. This is turning into a basketball game, no midfield to be seen.”, you complained to her, desperately pointing towards your defensive and central midfielders trying to gain control of the game.

You could tell that Renée followed the game with growing concern but she turned towards you and joked: “If it was basketball, they would use their hands, y/n.”

You rolled your eyes and bit back in smile.

“Yes but still, where is our midfield? Get Lia on.”

Renée who had turned back to watch the game only glanced at you this time: “Calm down.”

“I am calm.”, you replied without taking your eyes off of your girlfriend.

“Good.”

Discussion over. You both focused back on the game.

The minutes passed and nothing changed. Finally, Renée gave in and called Lia over to be subbed in. You both shared a look before she entered the pitch. You raised your eyebrow to signal your girlfriend that you had told her so, to which Renée responded with a playful roll of her eyes.

With Lia on, the game started to stabilise. But still, it went back and forth between both teams. When the final whistle blew, Arsenal was one goal ahead, winning the game 3:4.

You snuck up to Renée and grinned at her: “See? Getting Lia in was a good idea.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t only that sub.”, she said cooly, still staring out on the pitch and reflecting on the game.

“Of course not.”

Renée finally looked at you and nodded once: “But important three points.”

“Yes, we got a lot to take away from it too for when we play them again in a few days.”

“Yes, a lot of work for us.”, Renée agreed.

“We can do that.”

“I’m sure.” Renées face softened and a smile tugged on her lips as she dragged you along with her towards the player’s tunnel. She kissed you in the safety of the darkness as she so often did after games.

All of a sudden you felt the eyes of your players on you and began to clear your throat nervously: “Uhm Renée the team is staring at us.”

“What?”, your girlfriend followed your gaze with an alarmed look on her face.

Barely audible you whispered:”I think they saw the kiss.”

“Oh no.”, Renée began to curse.

With a proud smile on her lips Beth turned to her teammates:” I told you so, I was right girls!”

“They’re so cute.”, Alessi chirmed much to your surprise.

An amused chuckle escaped your lips:” You know that we can hear you, right?”

“Yes, we do.”, Leah smirked.

Renée ran her fingers through her hair flustered, trying to take her players’ minds off the kiss: “We should give our thanks to our travelling fans.”

“Come on, coach. It’s fine. You don’t have to distract.”, Beth assured the Dutch woman.

The England captain quickly added: “Yeah, we’re glad to see you this happy.”

Without words, Renée picked up Beth, while both started to laugh out loud.

“I think you can tell that she’s happy.”, you remarked smiling.

A teasing grin played around your girlfriend’s lips: “Oh, can you? But yes, I am What about you, love?”

“Our team won, and I got a gorgeous woman on my side. I can’t complain.”, you replied cheerfully.

And this much was true, if you looked at the two of you now, you wouldn’t change a thing.

[2amriize]

.ᐟ RIIZE reaction: they ignore you after an argument and then they find u crying ༉‧₊˚.

req: Can u pls do one when they ignore you after a argument and they find u crying alone

pairing: bf!riize x reader — masterlist

⭑.ᐟ shotaro

Shotaro would instantly feel guilty the moment you left the room after your argument. Even so, he wouldn’t come after you right away because he was still upset too. It wasn’t until he was about to leave the house to run an errand that he found you sitting outside the door, crying. Without hesitation, he’d wrap you in a hug, apologizing for what he had said.

⭑.ᐟ eunseok

You and Eunseok had a big argument in the morning, and since he came back from work, he had been ignoring you. Seeing how he was acting, you couldn’t help but lock yourself in the bathroom to cry. However, Eunseok heard the sounds coming from inside and followed you. The two of you stared at each other in silence for a few seconds before he sighed, crouched down in front of you, wiped your tears, and apologized for ignoring you.

⭑.ᐟ sungchan

Though you didn’t argue often, when you did, Sungchan had a habit of doing things that hurt you, like ignoring you. You tried to talk to him as if nothing had happened, but Sungchan wouldn’t respond. You decided to give him the silent treatment too, but when you started making dinner, all the pent-up emotions overwhelmed you, and you burst into tears. When Sungchan walked into the kitchen and saw you crying, guilt immediately took over. He walked up to you and hugged you from behind.

"I'm such an idiot... Forgive me."

⭑.ᐟ wonbin

You knew how proud Wonbin could be, but you never expected him to ignore you all day over such a silly argument. That afternoon, you had plans to go to the movies together, but since he wasn’t speaking to you, you decided to go alone. You thought it wouldn’t bother you too much until you started crying in the theater, realizing how much you missed him. To your surprise, he suddenly sat down next to you, handed you some popcorn, and wiped away your tears.

"I'm sorry, Y/N... I—" "Shh, the movie's starting."

⭑.ᐟ seunghan

The night before, you and Seunghan had a fight before bed, but you didn’t expect him to skip his usual good morning kiss the next day. It hurt even more to see him either ignore you completely or reply curtly, and by the time he left the house to go shopping, you broke down crying in the living room. When Seunghan returned and saw your puffy eyes, he immediately realized how much his actions were hurting you. Without a second thought, he sat beside you and hugged you tightly, apologizing over and over.

⭑.ᐟ sohee

You and Sohee hadn’t spoken all day at work after a small disagreement. The tension and frustration had started to shift into sadness, especially as you saw him happily chatting with others while ignoring you. During your break in the café, tears quietly started streaming down your face. Coincidentally, Sohee walked in at that moment. Seeing you, he sighed, walked over to your table, and held your hand.

"Why did we act like this? I’m sorry..."

⭑.ᐟ anton

You didn’t expect Anton’s reaction to your first real argument in the relationship to be ignoring you, and you certainly didn’t expect it to hurt so much. He spent the whole day without speaking to you, ignoring even the posts you sent him. Feeling increasingly upset and unsure of what to do, you decided to go for a walk while listening to music. But as soon as the first song started, you found yourself crying, thinking about Anton. Unexpectedly, you bumped into him—he had been doing the same thing as you. Without saying a word, he walked up to you, wrapped you in his arms, and promised he’d never ignore you like that again.

masterlist // taglist: @regularsuh @gacktsa @totheseok @kkumistars @taroddori @enhacolor @ladylilith @electric-hearts @astrobymarwa @layluv123 @sunflowers1610 @nctrawberries @synkjellies @ramyeonzprincess @yuzuksi

[daisymbin]

hiii!! can I get request #25 angst with wonwoo? thank you so much!! btw you're such an amazing writer 🩷🩷

thank you cutie!!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

angst prompt #25: "how could you keep this from me?"

you were sitting on the couch when you heard the front door slam open, followed by hurried footsteps. your heart skipped a beat as you froze, your mind struggling to make sense of the situation. wonwoo. he was supposed to be gone for another two weeks—why was he back so early?

there he was, standing in the doorway with a look of frantic concern etched across his face. his eyes immediately scanned the room before landing on you, sitting there in the dim light, a bandage wrapped around your arm.

“what happened to your arm?” his voice cracked slightly as he stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you looked up at him, startled by his sudden arrival, and the guilt hit you like a wave. "wonwoo, i—" you began, but the words seemed to catch in your throat.

he took a few steps closer, his eyes full of hurt and confusion. “jeonghan told me,” he said, voice steady but filled with an edge. “he said he drove you to the hospital earlier this week. why didn’t you tell me?”

you winced as you shifted slightly, the pain from your fractured arm a dull reminder of what you’d been trying to hide. “it’s not a big deal,” you said quickly, avoiding his gaze. “it’s just a little fall. it wasn’t worth worrying you over.”

wonwoo’s face hardened, his jaw clenching. “a little fall?” his voice was low, but there was an underlying anger in it. “you’re telling me that you—you—broke your arm and didn’t think it was worth telling me?”

you swallowed, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill. you hadn’t meant to upset him, hadn’t meant to make him feel this way. but now, with him standing here, looking at you with that hurt expression, it felt like the world was crashing down.

"wonwoo, i didn’t want to make you worry," you said softly, voice trembling. "you were already so busy with work. you had so much to focus on. i didn’t want to add to it."

wonwoo shook his head, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "are you serious?" he asked, his voice rising. "do you really think that’s how this works? that i’d rather not know? that you’d rather handle something this big on your own?"

you flinched at his tone, the sting of his words sinking deep. "i didn’t think it was that big a de," you whispered, guilt washing over you. "it was just a stupid mistake. a fall."

"it’s not about the fall," he snapped, his eyes flashing with a mixture of hurt and anger. "it’s about you thinking you had to handle it alone. alone, when you know i’m always here for you. do you really think i wouldn’t care about something like this? that i wouldn’t want to be there for you? how could you keep this from me?"

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you looked down at your bandaged arm, guilt gnawing at your insides. you didn’t want to make him feel left out or unimportant.

"wonwoo, i didn’t want to burden you," you murmured. "i didn’t want you to feel like you had to drop everything just because of something small. you’ve been so focused on your work, and i didn’t want to be the reason you had to come back early."

he stared at you, his chest rising and falling as he took a deep breath. for a moment, the anger seemed to dissipate, replaced by an overwhelming sense of disappointment. “you think this is a burden? that me being there for you would be a burden?” his voice was softer now, though the hurt was still evident in every word.

you met his gaze, your own eyes filled with regret. "i just thought i could handle it on my own."

wonwoo stepped closer, his expression softening, but there was still a trace of sadness in his eyes. "but you’re not alone," he said quietly, almost like a plea. "you don’t have to handle everything by yourself. not when you’ve got me. and you especially don’t have to keep things like this from me."

the words hit you hard, like a punch to the gut. you hadn’t realized until now just how much he must’ve been worrying about you, even while he was away. he wasn’t just your boyfriend—he was your partner, your best friend, and you’d shut him out when he should’ve been the first person you turned to.

"i’m sorry," you whispered, feeling a tear slip down your cheek. "i just didn’t know how to tell you. i didn’t know if you’d think i was being dramatic or if you’d blame yourself for not being here."

wonwoo sighed deeply, stepping closer to you, his hand gently resting on your uninjured shoulder. "don’t apologize," he said softly. "i’m just... i’m just hurt that you thought you had to hide it from me. you should’ve told me. you should’ve trusted me with it."

you nodded, wiping your eyes quickly. "i know. i know i should’ve. i just... i didn’t want to worry you."

he gave you a small, almost sad smile. "i’d rather you tell me, even if it’s something small to you. because to me, nothing you go through is small."

for a moment, you both just stood there, the weight of everything between you settling in the silence. there was no easy way to fix the hurt you’d caused, but you knew one thing—next time, you wouldn’t keep anything from him.

"i’m sorry," you said again, your voice quieter this time.

wonwoo sighed, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "you don’t have to keep apologizing," he murmured. "just promise me you’ll tell me next time."

you nodded, a small smile breaking through the guilt. "next time," you promised.

[moonlitsmile]

Just for tonight

dbf! Joel miller x f! reader

part 2

꣑୧ — 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | After a fight with your drunk dad, he kicks you out. And you show up at Joels door, his close friend he had grown distant with, But the only one nearby. You planned to stay the night, but when a thunderstorm keeps you awake, you find comfort in him…and maybe something even more. (No apocalypse, Sarah is alive in here and no Ellie.)

୨୧ - age gap, reader is 18, (hes early 40s) , crying, innocent reader, inexperienced reader, slight daddy issues, kinda sad, i dragged this out, kinda implied that the reader lives alone with her father, part two is more juicy don’t worry

You didn’t mean to start anything.

You never did, when it came to him.

Most nights, you kept your head down, kept to yourself, tried not to stir the air when your dad was already drinking. You’d learned how to read his moods like the back of your hand. the too-loud television, the way he’d sit in the recliner just a little too long, how his fingers tapped the side of the glass when he was itching to pour another. You could tell when to stay quiet. When to go hide in your room.

lately your father had been acting different, he had been drinking more due to stress at work. And when he drinks it’s bad cause he’s so mean. He dosent know how to handle his alcohol and it irks you. He’s so different from before, he’s not the way he was.

And he acted like you weren’t his girl anymore.

But tonight, you were tired. Tired of walking on eggshells in a house that used to feel like home.

You were halfway down the hall, heading to your room, when you noticed the bottle on the coffee table was almost empty. Again.

“You probably shouldn’t have any more,” you said before you could stop yourself. Your voice wasn’t sharp, it wasn’t even loud. Just soft, like a suggestion. Like you were trying to take care of him.

His head turned slow, and you caught the sluggish movement in his eyes. “What did you just say?”

You hesitated, already regretting it. “Just… maybe slow down a little.”

He barked out a laugh, bitter and humorless. “Don’t start with me,. Not tonight.”

You stood there in the hallway, unsure whether to turn back or keep walking.

“I’m not starting anything. I’m just saying—”

“You’re always saying something, aren’t you?” he snapped, slamming the glass down a little too hard. “Always got your damn opinions. Can’t keep your mouth shut for one goddamn night.”

That made your throat tighten.

You looked down, fingers fidgeting at the hem of your shirt. “I’m just worried about you,” you said, voice small.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” he sneered. “Worried about me? You think you know anything about how hard I work? What I’ve been through? You sit around like some delicate little flower and judge me for needing something to take the edge off.”

“I wasn’t judging you—”

“Yes, you were. You always are.” He stood now, swaying slightly. “Walking around like you’re better than me. Like you’ve got the right to lecture me in my own damn house.”

You shrank back a step before you could help it. “That’s not fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” he said, pointing at you, voice rising. “Me working my ass off every day just to come home to this bullshit. A mouthy little girl who doesn’t appreciate a goddamn thing.”

Your chest hurt. You didn’t know why it always cut so deep, maybe because deep down, some part of you still wanted him to see you. To talk to you like he used to, before things got… bad.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you said quietly. “I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, you did upset me,” he snapped. “Congratulations.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, hard. “I’ll just go to my room.”

“No,” he said suddenly, voice sharp.

You paused. “What?”

“I said no. You wanna act like you don’t wanna be here? Like this house is so damn terrible?” He started toward you, clumsy and fast. “Then go. Go on, get out.”

Your stomach dropped.

“You’re drunk,” you said, trying to stay calm, your voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean.” His hand shot out, grabbed the front door, yanked it open. Cold air spilled into the house.

“Dad, stop—” You moved back instinctively.

“I said get out!” he yelled, and this time, there was no hesitation. He reached for your arm, not hard, but firm enough to make your breath hitch, and pushed you out into the night.

You stumbled down the steps, heart racing, bare arms wrapping around yourself in the chill.

The door slammed shut behind you.

And that was it.

No shoes. No coat. No phone charger. No chance to grab a bag. You just stood there, shivering, your eyes stinging from more than just the wind.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You waited. Half-hoped the door would open again. That he’d realize what he’d done and call you back inside. That he’d remember you were his daughter, not a stranger. Not a mistake.

But nothing came.

Just the sound of the wind picking up, and somewhere in the distance, the first low rumble of thunder. Soon to be rain probably going to come down.

As soon as you realized you had no where to go, that’s when the tears began to fall. Scared and vulnerable, in these dim streets this late at night. You were planning to just go back inside, but he had locked the door. Front and back, and the windows were always locked. You sighed shakily, letting out a soft shaky sob. Trying to stop the flowing tears. Your father had always taught you crying got you nowhere, and sometimes it did. But in this situation it clearly didn’t.

So what else was there to do, besides to just start walking?

But The street was quiet.

Too quiet.

You stood there for a long second on the front steps, staring at the closed door behind you like it might swing back open. Like this might just be one of those awful dreams where everything feels too real until you wake up gasping.

But the door stayed shut. No footsteps. No apology. Nothing.

You didn’t even realize your hands were shaking until you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself, trying to stop the chill that crept into your skin. The night air clung to you in a way that made your stomach twist, cool and damp and biting against your bare legs.

All you had on was that loose light purple shirt, soft and worn-in from too many washes, and a pair of loose black fabric shorts you only ever wore to sleep. Your white fuzzy socks were already picking up dirt as they padded over the pavement, useless against the cool sidewalk. You hadn’t even had time to put on shoes. Or grab your phone. Or anything.

You just walked.

Because what else could you do?

It was nearly 10 o’clock, and most of the neighborhood had already gone dark. Porch lights were off. Curtains were drawn. The only sounds were the soft hush of wind through the trees and the distant hum of cars on the highway a few streets over.

And then there was the thunder.

Low, deep, and far away, but creeping closer.

You looked up, squinting at the sky. Heavy clouds were dragging across the night, their edges tinged with flashes of light too faint to call lightning yet. The kind of sky that pressed down, that felt heavy on your chest even though it hadn’t fully opened up.

A few cold drops landed on your arms, soaking into the thin cotton of your shirt. It was that kind of light rain that didn’t fall, just drifted. Like the air itself had gone damp.

You didn’t know where you were going.

Your feet just carried you forward, block after block, the chill from the sidewalk slowly sinking into your bones. Every now and then, you wiped at your face, not even sure if it was rain or tears anymore. Probably both.

You tried to keep your head down. Tried to focus on the rhythm of walking. One foot, then the other. But your thoughts spun in circles, chasing themselves.

He didn’t mean it.

Yes, he did.

He was drunk.

But he meant every word.

You sniffed hard, your throat burning. The kind of ache that came from too much silence after too many years of holding back. You wanted to feel angry. You really did. But all you felt was small.

Just small and cold and tired.

The rain was picking up now. Not heavy, but enough to make your shirt cling to your shoulders. You pulled your arms tighter around yourself, socks squelching with every step as they grew heavier with water and dirt.

That’s when a familiar street sign caught your eye. You blinked up at it, heart stuttering.

You realized, Joel lived just a few blocks down.

You hadn’t even meant to come this way. Your body must’ve brought you here on its own, searching for something steady. Something that didn’t hurt.

And Joel had always been that, quiet, calm, warm in a way your father never really was. You hadn’t seen him in a while, but you still remembered the way he used to talk to you like you mattered. Like you weren’t just some kid hanging around the edges of someone else’s life.

You hesitated at the corner, your wet socks slipping slightly on the sidewalk. You could turn around. You could keep walking. Maybe find a bus stop. A bench. Some place to hide for the night.

But your body was already moving again, toward him.

Because right now, in this moment, you didn’t need pride. You didn’t need space to figure things out.

You just needed somewhere to feel safe.

Your legs ached, but you kept walking. The houses started to look more familiar now, even in the hazy streetlight and light mist that clung to everything. You knew this route. You used to ride your bike down it when you were little. Back when things were… simpler.

Back when Joel used to come by.

He was your dad’s friend long before you ever really noticed him. You remembered hearing them laugh together in the backyard, clinking beer bottles over some dumb joke or grilling whatever meat your dad had gotten on sale that week. Joel would toss your dad shit for burning the burgers, and your dad would say something like, “You think you could do better, Miller?”

You always called him Mr. Miller. Never Joel. That was something your dad was strict about, respect your elders, speak politely, don’t be annoying.

But you liked having him around. Even when you were little, maybe eight or nine, you’d find excuses to linger outside longer than you should. Sitting at the edge of the porch steps with your juice box while they talked. Pretending to read a book at the patio table so you could listen to them. He had a deep, calm voice that made the whole world seem quieter when he spoke.

Then, somewhere around thirteen, it shifted.

You couldn’t remember the exact moment it happened. You just knew one day you looked up and realized Joel was… handsome. Not like the teenage boys at school, all sharp elbows and too much cologne. He was something else. Broad, steady, sun-warmed skin and a strong jaw covered in just the right amount of stubble. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, he meant it. He listened, too. That alone set him apart.

That was when the little crush started.

You’d try to hang around more when you knew he was coming over. Sit at the edge of the conversation. Ask him about his work or how his truck was running. Nothing major, just tiny ways to get him to notice you.

Sometimes he’d smile at you, real soft. Ruffle your hair or nudge your shoulder as he passed, and your heart would flutter so hard it made you dizzy. You’d duck your head, cheeks hot, pretending it didn’t mean anything. But it did. It always did.

You remembered trying to act more mature as you got older, wearing makeup that wasn’t quite right, putting on clothes that made you feel older than you were. Not in a weird way, not to get attention exactly… you just wanted to be seen. By him. Not as your dad’s kid. Not as a tagalong.

Just… as you.

But Joel had never looked at you that way. Not once. He was always kind, but distant. Like he saw you as something sweet and harmless. A little girl with big eyes and bigger dreams, someone he probably thought was too soft for the world.

And then time passed.

He stopped coming around as much. Your dad got moodier. The cookouts got fewer and farther between. You hadn’t seen Joel in almost 3 years. Not since your 15th birthday.

You were eighteen now.

Not that it mattered. You weren’t expecting anything. You just wondered… would he still see you the same? That shy, awkward kid trailing behind her dad?

Or would he notice how much had changed?

You pulled your arms tighter around yourself, breathing out into the damp night air. Your hair stuck to your skin in places, and the light drizzle was turning into something steadier, soaking through the thin fabric of your shirt.

Up ahead, past the corner, you saw the soft yellow glow of a familiar porch light.

Your chest tightened.

You were almost there.

You slowed as his house came into full view.

There it was, same as always. The porch light was still on, casting a warm yellow glow over the wooden steps and the faded welcome mat. His truck was in the driveway. Lights off inside, except for the soft flicker of something deeper in the house, maybe the living room lamp left on, maybe the TV. You couldn’t tell from here.

Your feet stopped just short of the first step.

What if he was asleep?

What if he got annoyed you were showing up like this, soaking wet and looking pathetic? What if he didn’t even remember you the way you remembered him, just saw you as that kid who used to trail after her dad like a shadow, begging for scraps of attention?

You shifted your weight, arms still wrapped tightly around yourself as you looked down at your fuzzy socks, now nearly gray from the walk. Your legs were cold. Your shirt clung to your skin. You felt stupid.

This was stupid.

You should’ve gone anywhere else. A bus stop. A gas station. Literally anywhere but here.

But still… you lifted your hand and knocked, just once. Soft. So soft it barely made a sound.

You waited.

Nothing.

The wind rustled the trees nearby, and thunder grumbled low in the distance, like it was trying to remind you that this night wasn’t over yet. You bit your lip and knocked again, two quick taps, a little louder this time.

Still… nothing.

You sighed, shaky and small. Your shoulders slumped. Of course he wasn’t awake. It was late. And who in their right mind would want some girl showing up on their porch in the middle of the night like a stray?

You didn’t want to be a burden.

You didn’t want him to see you like this.

You sniffed quietly and stepped back, turning away from the door, heart sinking. You’d figure something else out. You always did.

But then

click.

The sound made you freeze mid-step.

The door creaked open behind you, warm yellow light spilling out into the cool night air.

“…Hey?” Joel’s voice was rough with sleep, low and a little grumpy. His brows were pulled together as he blinked at you, clearly confused. “What the hell…”

But then his eyes really focused, and he saw you. Standing there on his porch in the rain, shivering in your pajamas, hair damp and clinging to your face.

His expression shifted. Still cautious, but… softer now. Concern crept in under the fatigue.

You opened your mouth, but all that came out was a shaky, barely audible, “Hi.”

Joel stared for a second longer, his voice quieter this time. “What… what are you doing here?”

You opened your mouth again, trying to form the words, trying to explain, but they got stuck. Right there in your throat.

Your lips trembled before you could stop them.

“I—” you started, then clamped your mouth shut as your eyes filled with tears.

God. No. Not now.

You blinked quickly, trying to stop them from spilling over. You didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of the man who used to ruffle your hair like a kid. The man who still probably saw you as the quiet twelve-year-old sneaking glances from behind her dad’s shoulder.

You didn’t want to be her right now. You didn’t want to look soft or helpless. You wanted to seem grown, like you could handle it. Like showing up at his door in your socks and pajamas didn’t mean you were breaking apart inside.

But under Joel’s steady, quiet gaze… you just felt small again.

You looked down at your feet, voice cracking when you finally whispered, “I—I couldn’t stay there.”

That was all you could get out.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. You didn’t look up, afraid of what you’d see in his eyes, pity, maybe. Or worse, that same distant kindness from before.

But then you heard him step aside, his voice lower now, a little more gentle.

“Come on in.”

You stepped in slowly, careful not to let your soaked socks track too much water across the floor. The warmth from the house hit you all at once, soft, dry air and the faint smell of coffee and wood, but your body was still trembling from the cold that had sunk deep into your skin.

You stood there on the rug just past the doorstep , arms wrapped tight around yourself, eyes fixed on the dark hardwood that stretched out into the living room. You didn’t move.

You didn’t want to drip everywhere.

Didn’t want to make a mess.

Didn’t want to be a mess.

Your damp shirt clung to your back, and your fingers were starting to go numb. The rain had only been light, but it was enough to leave you chilled straight through. Your cheeks burned from a different kind of cold, embarrassment, standing there in nothing but your thin pajamas in front of him. Joel. Someone who used to pat your head like a niece or a neighbor kid. Someone who still looked at you like you were something breakable.

He shut the door gently behind you, turning the lock with a soft click. Then he looked at you again, brows pulled together, eyes sharp but not unkind. Still confused, but calmer now.

“Hang on,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw before heading down the hall.

You stayed frozen on the rug, listening to the sound of him rustling through a closet. A moment later he came back with a towel, holding it out to you.

You took it with quiet hands, clutching the soft fabric to your chest before slowly raising it to dab at your damp cheeks, your arms, the rain-wet ends of your hair.

Joel hovered for a second, like he didn’t want to crowd you, then took a small step closer. His voice was quiet, almost like he was talking to a spooked animal.

“You gonna tell me what happened?”

You opened your mouth, but again, nothing came out.

Just that awful lump rising in your throat. Heavy and hot. The sting behind your eyes came back stronger than before.

You bit the inside of your cheek hard, trying to hold it back, but your breath caught in your chest. Your shoulders trembled, not from the cold anymore.

You were going to cry.

You hated that you were going to cry.

Joel’s expression softened again. He didn’t push. Just waited, voice still low, gentler this time.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “It’s alright. Take your time.”

You nodded, pressing the towel against your face, trying to breathe through it. But your voice, when it finally came, was still broken and barely a whisper.

You tried to speak again. The words were there, clogging your throat, pushing at the back of your tongue, but they wouldn’t come out.

Your chest rose in a shallow, shaky breath, and you pressed the towel harder to your mouth like it might hold everything in: the hurt, the tears, the everything.

Joel stood there, watching you, arms crossed loosely over his chest. You could feel the weight of his gaze, steady and quiet, not pushing. Just… waiting.

But when the silence stretched too long, he cleared his throat and spoke, soft and low, like he didn’t want to startle you.

“Well…” he said slowly. “How ‘bout you go freshen up first, alright? Take a shower. See if that helps any. We’ll talk after.”

You gave a small nod, your eyes still locked on the floor. You didn’t trust yourself to say anything, not yet.

Joel didn’t move at first.

You could sense him shifting though, like something in him was working through a thought he wasn’t quite ready to say. His stance was different, less easy than usual. Like he was standing at a strange kind of distance, unsure where the line was now.

Then came his voice again, quieter this time. Different.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Look at me, honey.”

Your breath caught.

That word.

Honey.

He used to call you that all the time when you were younger, when you’d scrape your knee in the yard or fall asleep on the couch during a cookout. Sometimes it was sweetheart, sometimes kiddo, but honey was always the one that stuck with you most. It had curled warm and safe in your chest, made you feel cared for in a way that not many people ever made you feel.

And the truth was… you never liked hearing it from anyone else.

Only Joel.

Only he could say it in that low, steady drawl, like he really meant it. Like it wasn’t just something to say, it was something he felt.

You blinked hard, your vision swimming for a second, and then, slowly, you looked up.

His eyes met yours the second you did.

And he didn’t smile.

He didn’t say anything right away either.

He just looked at you, really looked. Like he was trying to match this version of you, the quiet, trembling girl on his doorstep in too-thin clothes and wet socks, with the one who used to follow him and your dad around, tugging on the hem of his flannel and asking questions about how to grill ribs or fix a flat tire.

You could see it in his face, the shift. That faint crease between his brows. Like he didn’t know what to make of what he was seeing.

You weren’t twelve anymore.

And he knew that.

But the way he was looking at you now… it wasn’t pity. It wasn’t awkwardness. It was something else.

Something that made your skin warm, even as your clothes clung cold to your body.

You held his gaze for just a second longer than you meant to before dropping it again, clutching the towel tighter to your chest.

Joel cleared his throat again, his voice rough but careful.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. I’ll find you somethin’ dry.”

You stepped quietly down the hall, arms still wrapped around the towel like it was the only thing keeping you upright. The house was dim, quiet except for the low hum of the air vent and the soft creak of the floor under your feet. Joel didn’t follow, just let you go, giving you space.

The bathroom door opened with a soft push, and you stepped inside.

It smelled the same as you remembered, clean and faintly like cedar soap. The lights overhead buzzed to life as you flipped the switch, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow.

You stood still for a second. Just breathing.

And then the memories came in like a quiet rush.

You used to come in here when you were little. When your dad would drag you along for a night at Joel’s, usually some weekend game night or beer-and-barbecue thing. You were too young to care about football or whatever else they were watching, so you’d wander the house. Sit cross-legged on the bathroom floor playing with your toys or fiddling with little things around the sink while Sarah played with you.

You used to giggle about Joel’s aftershave, mess with the little cups stacked on the counter, open drawers you probably shouldn’t have.

It was warm then. Safe. Full of noise and life.

You pressed your palm to the edge of the sink now, staring at your reflection.

Same mirror. Same faded green tile. Same soft hand towels folded on the rack.

But everything felt different now.

You weren’t a kid sneaking off from a boring football night anymore. You weren’t playing pretend with Sarah while the dads laughed over beers in the kitchen. You were eighteen. Standing in Joel’s bathroom, damp and trembling, heart still twisted from being pushed out into the night by the only other person who was supposed to make you feel safe.

And Joel…

He wasn’t just “Mr. Miller” anymore.

You looked at your own eyes in the mirror, red-rimmed and glassy. Your skin was pale under the yellow light, hair damp and clinging to your neck. You looked lost. And you hated that you looked that way in his house, in his mirror.

You turned the shower on, letting the steam build. The heat was comforting, but it didn’t make the ache go away.

As you pulled your shirt over your head and let your damp clothes fall to the tiled floor, you wondered if he still saw you the same way he used to.

Sweet little girl. Honey.

Or if maybe, just maybe… that look he gave you earlier meant something else now.

The hot water poured over your shoulders like a blanket, soaking into your skin, easing the chill that had sunk deep into your bones. Steam curled up around you, fogging the glass, softening the world until it felt far away. You let your head fall forward under the spray, eyes closed, lips parted, breathing in the quiet warmth.

It was the first time all night you didn’t feel cold.

But your chest still ached.

Your thoughts wandered, slow and heavy, as the water moved down your back.

Where was Sarah now?

She was older than you by a few years. You remembered when she got her acceptance letter for college, how proud Joel had been, even though he tried not to make a big deal about it. You were only fourteen at the time, still in that awkward, in-between phase where you were too shy to speak around him for long, but you remembered how he lit up when he talked about her. How his eyes softened in a way that was different than usual.

Maybe that’s why the house felt so still now. Why it felt… lonelier.

Without Sarah’s laugh echoing down the hallway. Without her music blaring from her room.

You ran your hands over your arms beneath the stream, squeezing your eyes shut as more memories came.

You used to make Joel little cards around the holidays. Ones with clumsy handwriting and glitter that always fell off. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Miller” or “Happy Birthday!” with lopsided hearts and cartoon dogs you’d drawn just for him. He kept them, too, you remembered him pinning one up on the fridge one year. Told you it was his favorite thing he got that Christmas.

You smiled at that. Just barely.

Then the ache returned.

Because you also remembered the other times, when your dad would push you to come over even when you didn’t want to. Not to visit Joel, but to learn. Said you should stop wasting time and do something useful. Like music. Like guitar. Joel had offered to teach you, always patient, always kind… but you were stubborn then. Hated the pressure. Hated the way your dad watched every chord you missed, every note that buzzed.

You didn’t appreciate it back then.

But now?

Now, all you wanted was to sit in Joel’s living room again. To feel that careful way he guided your hands on the strings. To listen to him explain things in that slow, steady voice like nothing could ever go wrong.

You leaned back against the tile, breath trembling, arms hugging yourself under the stream.

Everything had changed so fast.

And it hurt in ways you couldn’t even name.

You tilted your head back beneath the water, eyes closed, letting the past flicker behind your lids like old home videos.

You used to get excited when you heard Joel was coming over.

It didn’t start that way, not when you were younger and thought all your dad’s friends were boring. But something shifted when you hit thirteen, maybe fourteen. When you started noticing the way Joel’s voice got even deeper when he was tired, or the way he’d lean in close to listen, really listen, when you spoke, even if it was about something silly.

You started caring more about what you wore when he came by. Not obvious stuff. Just little things, a different shirt, lip balm with a soft tint, brushing your hair twice instead of once.

You weren’t subtle. Not really.

And Joel noticed.

He’d always been good with people. Quiet, observant. He never teased you, never made you feel small. But he knew. And in his own careful way, he humored it. Just enough to make your stomach flutter.

You could still remember one summer afternoon,

the air thick and hot, your dad out back grilling while Joel leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping a beer. You were fourteen, wearing a pale sundress you didn’t even like that much except for the way it swayed when you walked.

You’d wandered into the kitchen, pretending to be after a drink, but you lingered.

“Whatcha drinkin’, Mr. Miller?” you asked, pretending not to notice how dry your mouth was.

He glanced over, already smirking just a little.

“Somethin’ you’re not old enough to ask about.”

You tried not to squirm under the way his eyes flicked down, just briefly, then right back up. Measured. Careful.

“I’m not that young,” you mumbled, reaching into the fridge for a soda.

He raised a brow. “No? When’d that happen?”

You cracked open the can and leaned on the opposite counter, heart thudding.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying for casual. “Just… figured maybe you’d talk to me like a grown-up sometime.”

Joel had chuckled under his breath at that, deep and warm.

“You tryna convince me, or yourself?”

You felt your face flush but you didn’t back down. Not that day.

“You’re mean,” you said softly, but your lips curved into a shy smile.

He tilted his beer toward you just slightly, something fond in the gesture. “Nah, honey. Just honest.”

Honey.

That word again. That name.

It always made your chest flutter. And when he said it then, with a little smirk but something real behind it, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. Just… keeping the line where it needed to be. Even if part of you always wished he’d forget it was there.

Your fingers trailed along the tile wall as the water kept falling, steam curling around you like a blanket. You were warm now, but you didn’t want to step out. You didn’t want to face whatever came next. Not just yet.

Your mind drifted again, this time, not so far back. Not to dress-up days and awkward crushes.

But to the last time you saw Joel.

It had been maybe 3 years ago. Late spring, warm outside but breezy. You’d been sitting on the porch while your dad grilled, and Joel had stopped by out of nowhere. Said he was in the area. Said he thought he’d drop something off.

You remembered how your heart jumped when you saw his truck pulling into the driveway.

You were 14 then, about to be 15. maybe just starting to shed some of that baby-faced softness. You had your legs curled up under you in an oversized tee, and you’d tucked your hair behind your ears three separate times in five minutes, hoping it looked effortless.

He joined your dad out back for a bit. They talked and laughed like always, but it didn’t feel the same.

Joel was quieter. Less at ease. Like something had shifted.

You’d waited for a chance to talk to him. Just you and him.

When it finally came,

he was grabbing a drink from the cooler and you wandered over, slow and shy.

“Hey,” you said, trying not to sound too eager.

He turned, gave you a small nod. “Hey, kid.”

That name stung more than it should’ve.

“I haven’t seen you around much lately,” you said after a pause. “You don’t come by like you used to…”

Joel didn’t look at you right away. He just twisted the cap off his beer and gave a quiet shrug.

“Been busy. Work’s been a lot lately.”

You’d nodded, but your voice was smaller when you asked, “Is it just work?”

That made him glance over at you.

Something flickered across his face then. Something unreadable.

And all he said was, “Nothin’ personal, alright? Just figured it was time I stopped hangin’ around so much.”

You hadn’t known what to say. You just stood there, feeling like maybe you’d done something wrong and didn’t know it.

That was the last time.

After that, no more random visits. No more cookouts. No more evenings where you’d catch his eye across the kitchen while your dad ranted about the game.

He disappeared, just like that.

You thought about it too often, what changed. Why he stopped coming. Why he suddenly felt so far away.

And now here you were, standing naked and dripping in his bathroom, nearly 3 years older, 3 years lonelier… and still wondering what he’d see when you stepped back out into the hallway.

Eventually, the water wasn’t enough to keep you distracted anymore. You’d washed your hair, rinsed your skin clean of the cold and the rain, but that ache in your chest still lingered. Quiet. Heavy. Lingering like steam on the mirror.

You turned the water off with a slow twist of the knob, and the bathroom was instantly quieter. The kind of silence that felt louder than sound.

The air was thick with warmth, soft clouds of steam clinging to the mirror and tiles as you stepped out, careful not to slip. You wrapped the towel around yourself tightly, tucking the edge just above your chest, and stared at your own reflection through the fogged glass.

Still you. Still that same girl underneath it all.

You padded barefoot to the door and cracked it open, a little hesitant. The hallway light was still on, casting a warm glow over the dark hardwood floor.

And there, just outside the door on a small wooden table, was a neatly folded pile of clothes.

Your heart twisted.

One of Joel’s old flannels sat on top, soft and worn, sleeves rolled halfway up like he’d just shrugged out of it. Beneath it, a pair of sweatpants, drawstring pulled loose to make them easier to slip into.

Your fingers reached out slowly, brushing the fabric. Still warm from the dryer.

He must’ve done this while you were in the shower. Quiet, thoughtful. Like always.

You swallowed thickly, lifting the clothes against your chest, holding them like they were something more than just cotton and thread.

They smelled like him. A little bit like soap, like cedarwood, like something comfortingly familiar. Something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time.

And somehow… that made it even harder not to cry again.

You slipped back into the bathroom with the clothes pressed to your chest, shutting the door softly behind you. The tile was still warm beneath your feet, the mirror still fogged.

You took your time drying off, trying to steady your breathing. Your hands shook a little as you tugged on the sweatpants, they were far too big, pooling at your ankles, but the drawstring helped. The flannel hung heavy and soft on your shoulders, sleeves nearly swallowing your hands. You rolled them up like he always did, and that made your stomach twist strangely.

You didn’t bother with your damp clothes. You folded them neatly and set them by the sink.

When you finally stepped out again, the hallway light was dimmer, as if Joel had turned it down for your sake.

You padded into the living room quietly, your damp hair clinging to the sides of your face, falling in soft waves down your back. Joel was sitting on the couch, a beer in one hand, the TV playing something low he clearly wasn’t paying attention to.

He looked up when he heard your soft footsteps.

And his eyes landed on you.

There was a flicker in his expression, like a pause in his chest, like something caught in his throat and he didn’t know how to swallow it.

You looked so small in his clothes.

That big flannel hanging loose over your frame. Those sweatpants dragging the floor. Your bare feet quiet against the wood.

And your face…

Still that same softness. Damp lashes, flushed cheeks, lips parted slightly like you wanted to say something but weren’t sure how. You looked young. Not like a child, but vulnerable. Open.

The kind of quiet Joel remembered from a girl who used to make him lopsided cards and ask too many questions. Who’d sit on his porch with a guitar too big for her lap and try to act like she didn’t care when she missed a chord.

Now you stood there, older, but still her.

Still you.

He cleared his throat softly, sitting up a little straighter on the couch.

“Clothes fit alright?” he asked, voice low, rough around the edges from the late hour.

You nodded, eyes dipping for a second.

“Yeah,” you murmured. “They’re warm.”

He watched you for a beat longer. You weren’t just cold anymore. You looked tired. Like you’d been holding it together all night and were starting to unravel in slow pieces.

Joel set the bottle down and motioned gently toward the couch.

“C’mere. Sit with me a minute, alright?”

You hesitated for just a second before your feet carried you forward, slow and quiet, like you were afraid you might break the moment if you moved too fast.

The couch dipped as you sat beside him, your knees curling slightly, the flannel sleeves covering half your hands. You didn’t look at him right away, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor, but you felt his presence close beside you. Solid. Safe.

Joel didn’t say anything at first. He just let the TV flicker in the background, the sound low and meaningless. He was giving you time, something he’d always been good at. Even back then, when you’d get shy around him, stumbling over your words, he never rushed you.

He always waited.

After a moment, his voice broke the quiet, low and gentle, like he was talking to a skittish animal.

“You feelin’ any better?” he asked, glancing over at you. “Shower help at all?”

You nodded, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Yeah… a little.”

He gave a soft hum, then let another pause stretch before speaking again.

“I don’t wanna push,” he said slowly. “But if you feel like talkin’… I’m listenin’. Just tell me what happened, honey.”

That word again, honey, it hit a little different this time. Not like earlier, when it caught you off guard. Now it warmed something in your chest, loosened something tight inside you.

He said it so kindly. Like he still cared. Like he still saw you.

You sat there for another long second, your throat burning, and your eyes started to sting again.

Your voice cracked before you even got the words out.

“He—” You swallowed hard. “My dad… he was drunk.”

Joel didn’t move, didn’t interrupt. His body stayed still and quiet beside you.

“He just started yelling,” you continued, wiping quickly under your eye with the edge of your sleeve. “I don’t even remember about what—stupid stuff, nothing really. I told him to stop, and he just… snapped.”

Joel’s jaw tensed slightly, but he didn’t speak.

You stared at your knees. “He told me to get out. Didn’t let me grab anything. Just… pushed me out the door.”

Your voice shook a little at the end, and you hated it, hated how small it made you feel, how young.

But Joel didn’t make you feel embarrassed. He didn’t make a face or say you were overreacting.

He just let out a low breath, like his chest had been holding onto something tight, and nodded slowly.

“I’m real sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. “You didn’t deserve that.”

You blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears from coming again, but one slipped free, tracing down your cheek.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” you whispered.

Joel turned toward you then, one arm resting on the back of the couch, eyes fixed soft on your face.

“You did the right thing comin’ here.”

He said it so simply. Like it wasn’t even a question. Like this was home, in some quiet, strange way.

And for the first time in a long time, you started to believe that maybe it could be.

Joel stayed quiet for a moment, watching the way your fingers tugged at the edge of the flannel sleeve, twisting the fabric, nervous and uncertain. You always used to fidget like that when you were a kid, especially when you were trying not to cry.

His eyes softened.

“I know it’s hard,” he said quietly. “But can you tell me more? About what he said?”

You didn’t answer right away. The words sat heavy on your tongue.

“I just—” You paused, jaw tightening slightly. “He gets mean when he drinks. You know that. But tonight was… different.”

Joel didn’t speak, just nodded for you to keep going.

“He said I was ungrateful. That I acted like I was better than him. Like I thought I didn’t need anyone,” you said, your voice starting to tighten again. “I told him that wasn’t true. I was just trying to calm him down, but he wouldn’t listen. He shoved a chair over. Said if I thought I was so grown, then I could go be grown somewhere else.”

Your hands trembled again, and Joel felt his own fingers curl slightly where they rested on his leg.

You didn’t notice the way his jaw clenched. The quiet way his gaze sharpened, hardening under the softness as the picture of what had happened grew clearer.

“He didn’t let me grab my phone,” you said. “Or my shoes. Nothing. Just opened the door and told me to get the hell out.”

Joel’s chest rose and fell with a slow breath, controlled, but you could feel something shift in the air beside you.

You didn’t recognize it. But he did.

It was anger.

It started as a flicker in his stomach the moment you said he pushed you out. But now it was burning, low and steady. Not just anger, but something deeper. Protective. Dangerous in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’d always been his buddy’s kid. The sweet girl who made him smile without even trying. But hearing you now… sitting there beside him in his clothes, hair damp and eyes rimmed pink, trying so hard not to fall apart—it made something hard and cold settle in his chest.

He should’ve been there.

He should’ve known.

You sniffled softly, not even realizing how quiet he’d gone.

“I just kept walking,” you whispered. “Didn’t even think. I guess I just… ended up here.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you.

And something in his expression shifted. his voice low, but laced with something sharp, bitter at the edges.

“That son of a bitch…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

You blinked, startled by the words, but he wasn’t done. His voice stayed quiet, but it was firmer now, heavier.

“He put his hands on you? Kicked you out in the damn rain?” His jaw worked as he sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What the hell was he thinkin’?”

You didn’t know how to respond. You just sat there, small in his clothes, your hands tugging gently at the sleeves again.

Joel let out a slow breath, then leaned back, trying to steady himself. His voice softened again.

“I should’ve been checkin’ in more,” he added, glancing over at you. “Should’ve known somethin’ was wrong.”

You looked at him quietly, heart aching at the way he said it. Like he blamed himself. Like he cared more than you’d ever let yourself hope he still did.

But instead, You shook your head, biting your lip. You didn’t want to seem like it was his fault, it wasn’t. Was it..?

“I should’ve said somethin’ sooner,” you murmured. “I should’ve told someone.”

Joel shook his head.

“No. This ain’t on you.”

You finally looked up at him then, and for a second, the man who’d always called you sweet names and teased you gently over burnt Christmas cards was gone.

This Joel was still gentle. Still calm.

But there was steel in his eyes now. A quiet fury, buried deep, but real.

And you weren’t sure if it was meant for your dad, or for himself.

Joel leaned forward again, his forearms resting heavy on his knees, calloused hands clasped tight together. The TV still flickered on in the background, casting pale light across the living room, but neither of you were paying it any attention.

You glanced over at him, noticing the way his brow was pinched, the way his eyes didn’t move from the floor.

“I… I don’t want you to be upset,” you said quietly, hesitant. “It’s not really your fault, Mr Miller. I probably, should’ve kept my mouth shut. I made it worse.”

He turned his head slowly, eyes meeting yours.

“That ain’t true,” he said, low and rough. But you looked away again, still picking at your sleeve.

“I know how he gets,” you continued, your voice soft and tight. “I should’ve just walked away. Stayed quiet like I usually do…”

Joel’s jaw clenched, the muscle ticking. You didn’t see the way his expression twisted, how his guilt sank deeper, heavier.

Because all he could think about was how your dad hadn’t always been this way. He used to be different. Not perfect, but not… cruel. Not violent.

Back then, when you were younger, when Sarah was still around, when there were beers on the porch and a game playing low in the background, everything felt simpler. Lighter.

Joel used to come by all the time. You’d sit nearby and try to join their conversations, and he’d tease you gently, always patient with your little questions and awkward crush. And your dad… he wasn’t great, but he wasn’t this.

Then something shifted.

Your dad got meaner. Shorter tempered. Drinking more. Joel started noticing the way he’d snap at you in passing, the way he brushed you off coldly. How you’d get quiet around him, nervous, like you were walking on eggshells.

And Joel stopped coming around so much.

He told himself it was just life getting in the way. Work. Sarah getting older. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He couldn’t watch it happen. Couldn’t be around your father without wanting to knock some sense into him.

And now here you were, curled up beside him in borrowed clothes, cold and small and hurting.

And he hadn’t been there.

“If I’d stayed around… if I’d checked in”

He swallowed hard, hands still knotted together.

“You didn’t make anything worse,” he said finally, voice thick. “Don’t ever think that. That man’s lucky I wasn’t there tonight.”

You glanced at him, and for the first time, saw the fire behind his words. Not just protectiveness, but something else. That weight in his chest, years in the making.

He still saw you.

And part of him was terrified he hadn’t seen you enough.

You looked at him for a long moment, the room quiet except for the soft murmur of the TV and the faint tap of rain still clinging to the windows.

There was something different in Joel’s eyes now. Still steady. Still warm. But deeper. Like something unspoken had just cracked open between you both.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t know- I didn’t mean to wake you, Mr. Miller…”

Joel’s head turned toward you slowly, and for a second, there was the faintest curve to his mouth, small, almost wistful.

Mr. Miller.

God, you used to say it so sweetly, so earnestly. Even when you were barely tall enough to reach the countertop. He remembered the first time you called him that, probably seven years old, a little shy and serious, peeking around your dad’s leg and clutching a juice box. And every time after, no matter how many times he told you to call him Joel, it was always Mr. Miller.

He exhaled softly, something fond flickering in his eyes.

“I remember when you used to say that all the time,” he said, voice gentle now, like warm honey. “Every single visit. Hi Mr. Miller. Bye Mr. Miller. Always so polite.”

You looked down, suddenly feeling sheepish. “My dad made sure I had manners…”

Joel tilted his head just slightly.

“Yeah, well… you can drop the mister now,” he murmured. “You’re not a kid anymore. Just call me Joel.”

There was something quiet in the way he said it. Not sharp or dismissive, just honest. Like he was seeing you clearly for the first time in a long while.

You nodded slowly, still not sure if you could actually say it. It felt too strange in your mouth. Too grown.

But Joel didn’t push you. He just leaned back a little more into the couch, his posture easing, his tone softer.

“And for the record,” he added, eyes back on yours, “I’m glad you came here. You don’t gotta be sorry for that.”

Your breath caught a little, a warm swell pressing behind your ribs. You felt young again. And safe. But not like before. It was different now.

More aware.

More real.

And when Joel looked at you, really looked at you, you wondered if he felt that difference too.

You sat there in the quiet, your fingers toying gently with the hem of the sleeves that were far too big for you. The towel had warmed you up a little, and Joel’s clothes smelled like laundry and faint traces of cedar and something you couldn’t quite name, but remembered.

Your voice came out softer than you expected, barely above the low hum of the television.

“Would it… would it be okay if I stayed here tonight?”

Joel turned to look at you. His brows lifted just slightly, and there was the briefest pause, like the question caught him off guard.

Not because he didn’t want to say yes.

But because of course you should stay. After what happened, after what your father did, how could he not open his home to you? To the little girl he’s known since she was a baby.

But Still, he hesitated. Just for a second.

Not because he didn’t care. But because you weren’t that little girl anymore in a too-big T-shirt following Sarah around the backyard. You were older. Barefoot in his living room. Wrapped in his clothes. And the look in your eyes was something entirely different from the last time he saw you.

But Joel cleared his throat quietly, pushing the thought down. You needed a place to feel safe. That was all that mattered.

“‘Course you can,” he said, voice low, but certain. “Sarah’s room’s all cleaned out. She’s off at college now,” he said gently. “You can sleep in there.”

You blinked, your lips parting like you might protest. But Joel was already continuing, his tone patient.

“I’ll be just down the hall in my room, alright?.”

That quiet reassurance settled something in your chest.

You nodded, almost shyly. “Thank you…”

Joel stood, his movements slower, more careful than before. “Don’t gotta thank me, honey,” he said softly, the way he always used to. “Get settled in. I’ll grab you a blanket and some extra pillows”

And just like that, he turned toward the hallway, his broad figure disappearing into the warm, quiet house.

You sat there a moment longer, heart a little steadier now, hands still curled into the soft sleeves of his shirt.

You were really staying here.

In Sarah’s room. In Joel’s house.

And for the first time all night… you didn’t feel like you were in the way.

You stepped quietly into the bedroom, the soft creak of the old door sounding louder in the stillness of the house. It had been years since you’d stood here, years since you and Sarah sprawled across the bed laughing about nothing, painting your nails or talking about people from school like everything in the world was easy and small. You were 15 and she was 17.

Now the room felt… different. Not quite cold, but still. The air had a faint scent of old vanilla candles and laundry detergent, the comforting smell of a space that had been lived in and then carefully packed away.

The bed was made perfectly, with a smooth white comforter tucked into the corners, the kind of tidy only a parent would maintain after their kid left. The desk sat bare except for a ceramic dish holding three stretched-out hair ties and a lone bobby pin, like remnants of a girl who had left in a hurry. A dried-up pen rested in an old mug that once held makeup brushes or pencils or candy, maybe all three. The walls were mostly blank, but you could see the faint outlines where posters had once hung. Her favorite bands, probably. A couple of movie characters. A few pictures of the two of you, maybe, back when things were simple.

Your eyes drifted to the edge of the room where the carpet was slightly darker. That’s where her laundry basket used to sit, full of crumpled t-shirts and inside-out jeans. You remembered how she used to throw stuff around when she got ready, how her music would blast through the walls, loud enough to shake your bedroom when she stayed over.

But now the silence settled like a blanket, thick and a little heavy. You stood near the doorway, damp from the rain, arms folded loosely against your chest, the oversized shirt Joel gave you falling past your shorts. His scent, warm, musky, a little woody, lingered in the cotton, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes for a second and breathe it in.

You hadn’t felt safe all day.

And somehow, standing in this room with its quiet stillness and its faded memories, you started to feel it again.

Down the hall, Joel moved through the linen closet with the kind of tired hands that came from long days and long years. He pulled out a blanket, soft, thick, the one he’d always kept folded up in case Sarah got cold watching movies. Then a pillow. He paused, squeezing it once before tucking it under his arm.

His brow furrowed as he stood there, staring blankly at the shelf for a moment.

He didn’t know what the hell he was feeling.

She was just a girl. The same girl who used to trail after Sarah with stickers all over her arms, asking him questions about his truck or pretending to care about baseball stats just to be part of the conversation.

But that wasn’t who walked through his door tonight.

Tonight it was her, wet, shaking, in his clothes that hung off her frame in a way that made his stomach tighten. Not because of anything he wanted to feel. But because of everything he shouldn’t.

The softness in her face hadn’t changed, not really. But her body had. Her voice. Her presence. It rattled something in him.

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped away from the closet.

She’d grown up.

And maybe if he’d stuck around, if he hadn’t distanced himself once her father started turning bitter and mean, maybe he would’ve noticed it sooner. Maybe he could’ve been someone she called before walking the streets alone at night in the rain, wearing nothing but socks and shorts, looking like something fragile and forgotten.

Instead, she’d shown up at his door, eyes wide and wet, shoulders hunched like she expected to be turned away.

Joel clenched his jaw, adjusting the pillow under his arm and walking slowly toward the bedroom.

He didn’t know how this night would end. He didn’t even know how to look at her without feeling like the ground was shifting beneath his boots.

But he knew one thing for sure.

He wouldn’t let her feel unsafe again. Not here.

Not with him.

He nudged the door open gently with his shoulder, the quiet creak just enough to draw your attention. You sat at the edge of the bed, your legs dangling a little above the floor, back slightly hunched, hands folded in your lap. You looked so small like that. Wrapped up in his shirt, damp hair falling down your back in soft, dark strands. Your bare legs curled inward a bit, your socked feet barely brushing the edge of the carpet.

Joel hesitated in the doorway, one hand braced on the frame, the pillow and blanket tucked under his arm. His eyes swept over the room, then landed on you, and lingered.

There was a softness in his gaze now, one he didn’t quite mean to show. But he couldn’t help it. You looked up at him slowly, not quite meeting his eyes, like you weren’t sure if you were allowed to.

He swallowed, his voice a little rough when he finally spoke.

“Brought you these,” he said, stepping forward and placing the folded blanket and pillow beside you on the bed. “Should be comfortable enough for the night.”

You gave a quiet nod, your fingers gently smoothing the edge of the blanket even though it didn’t need it.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice still soft, still a little shaky.

Joel stood there for a beat longer than necessary. Just watching you. Noticing the way your shoulders curved inward, the way your eyes lingered on the far corner of the room like you were deep in something, something far away from here.

He didn’t want to leave you like that.

He let out a quiet breath, then crouched down slightly in front of you, not close enough to overwhelm you, but enough that you’d have to look at him if you wanted to respond.

“You alright?” he asked gently.

You nodded again. Then, after a pause, you finally looked up.

Joel’s chest tightened.

That look, it was the same one you gave him when you were younger and your dad had yelled too loud at the barbecue. Or when you’d come inside with a scraped-up knee and didn’t want Sarah to see you cry. That look of quiet embarrassment and vulnerability, like you weren’t sure if you were being a burden.

He hated it.

You opened your mouth, maybe to say something, but nothing came out. Your lips just parted, then closed again. You tried to hold eye contact, but it slipped away. You shook your head once, quietly.

Joel’s hand twitched, like he wanted to reach out, put a hand on your shoulder or gently touch your knee the way he would’ve back then, but he didn’t.

Instead, his voice softened even more.

“Alright, alright,” he murmured. “No pressure. Just… take a breath, honey. You’re safe here, okay?”

There it was again. That name. Honey.

It wrapped around your chest, squeezing.

You hadn’t heard it in so long. Not like that. He used to say it all the time when you were little, C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside, or That’s a good drawing, honey. Real good. You never liked hearing it from anyone else. Only him. From Joel, it felt like care. Like being seen.

You blinked quickly, looking down at your hands so he wouldn’t see the emotion tugging at your lashes.

“I’ll… I’ll be okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than him.

Joel stood slowly, but before he turned to leave, he paused at the doorway, glancing back at you one last time.

“I’ll be just down the hall. If you need anything, anything at all, you come get me.”

You nodded without looking up, but your lips quirked just barely.

“Okay,” you said softly.

Joel stared at you a beat longer.

Then, quieter, almost to himself, he murmured, “alright then.”

And with that, he stepped out, the door clicking softly shut behind him, leaving you with the blanket, the silence… and a heart just a little steadier than before.

The room was dark now, save for the faint glow of a streetlamp leaking in through the half-closed blinds. You laid curled on your side, Joel’s blanket pulled up to your chin, the scent of clean linen and his detergent wrapped all around you. The pillow was soft, too soft, almost. The kind that let your thoughts wander too easily.

You’d been staring at the same shadow on the ceiling for what felt like an hour.

Sleep just wouldn’t come.

Maybe it was the unfamiliar bed, maybe the echo of the day still buzzing under your skin, but more then anything it was the weather.

The rain had started as a gentle tapping against the window, barely noticeable at first. But slowly, it picked up, growing steadier, heavier, drops rolling down the glass in quick patterns. Then came the low, rumbling thunder. Distant at first, a slow growl behind the clouds.

But now it was louder. Closer. A sudden crack split the sky, followed by a deep, echoing boom that made you flinch under the covers.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand tightening slightly around the edge of the blanket.

You’d always hated thunderstorms.

You remembered once, when you were little, seven or maybe eight, and one rolled in while you were at Joel’s with your dad. Joel had noticed you trying to be brave, but he caught the way your shoulders jumped when the thunder hit. Without a word, he’d passed you a blanket and a glass of water and let you curl up on the couch near him and Sarah, the sound of his voice from the other room calming you more than the storm ever could.

You missed that feeling now. That safety.

Another loud boom cracked overhead, and you sucked in a breath, your eyes flicking toward the bedroom door like instinct.

Joel was just down the hall. But you didn’t want to bother him again.

Still… something inside you itched. That little part of you that still felt like a kid in a too-big world. Alone. Unsure.

Down the hall, Joel was dead asleep.

He’d barely made it into bed before he’d knocked out, body heavy with exhaustion. Work had drained him earlier, and the long hours he put in, paired with the sudden rush of concern when you’d shown up on his doorstep, had left him bone-tired.

The steady rhythm of rain outside didn’t stir him. Not yet, anyway.

But it stirred you.

You laid there, curled into a ball beneath the blanket, your knees tucked close, your face half-buried in the pillow. The thunder rolled again, deeper now, rattling the glass just faintly. You flinched, your breath catching, blinking fast.

You weren’t crying. Not really.

But your eyes burned a little.

And as you listened to the sound of the storm, your fingers curled tighter around the blanket.

He was so close. Just down the hall.

But would he mind?

Would it be too much?

You bit your lip and stared at the door, unsure if you’d ever stop feeling small in the quiet.

The clock on the wall ticked softly, its red numbers glowing faintly: 12:03 a.m.

Midnight.

You were still curled on your side, blanket wrapped tight around your legs, eyes wide open and fixed on the glowing sliver of light under the bedroom door. The storm outside had gotten worse, no longer just a gentle background hum, but a full-on downpour. The wind hissed between the trees, rattling leaves and creaking old branches.

Then, another flash of lightning. Bright enough to paint the entire room for a split second in stark, silver light.

You barely had time to brace yourself before the thunder followed, cracking through the air like it had split the sky in two. Loud and sharp, like it was right outside the house. You flinched so hard your legs kicked against the sheets.

Your breath caught, chest rising and falling too fast now. Your hand flew up to press against it, trying to calm the thumping beneath your skin. But it didn’t help.

God, you hated this. You hated storms like this, when they felt too close, too loud, too heavy. Like they could crawl under your skin and shake you apart from the inside.

You turned onto your back, blinking up at the ceiling again. The soft darkness, the quiet of Sarah’s old room, it wasn’t enough anymore. It felt too quiet compared to the chaos outside. And it only reminded you how alone you were in here.

You glanced at the door again.

Joel was just down the hall.

But would it be too much to go to him?

He’d already done so much, took you in, gave you a warm shower, his clothes, his daughter’s bed. You didn’t want to seem childish. You didn’t want to push boundaries. But…

Another flash, crack, this time even louder. Your hand gripped the blanket tightly.

That was it.

With slow, careful movements, you peeled the covers back. The air outside the blanket was cooler now, and goosebumps instantly formed on your legs. You slid your socked feet to the floor quietly, wincing slightly as one creaked against the wood.

Your hair, now dry, hung in soft strands down your back, sticking a little to your skin from the residual warmth of sleep and nerves. You gently pushed it behind your ears as you stood.

Hesitation curled in your stomach, heavy and anxious.

You stepped to the door, standing in front of it with your hand hovering over the knob.

You could go back to bed. You could wait it out. You should wait it out…

But then came another crack of thunder, louder than any before, almost shaking the glass in the window. And that was enough.

Fingers trembling slightly, you turned the knob.

And with a soft breath, you stepped out into the quiet hallway.

The hallway was dark, lit only by the pale wash of moonlight seeping in through the front window and the occasional flicker of lightning flashing through the curtains. You walked slowly, the wood floor cool beneath your socks, your fingers brushing the wall as you passed by old picture frames and familiar corners.

Joel’s door was at the end of the hall, just like you remembered. Just like he said, come to him if you need anything.

It was slightly cracked open.

You swallowed softly, your steps faltering as you reached it. For a moment, you just stood there, the soft rumble of thunder in the distance filling the silence around you. The house smelled faintly of rain and fabric softener and the faint trace of Joel’s cologne still lingering in the air.

You gently reached out, pushing the door just enough to see inside.

The room was dark, but your eyes adjusted quickly. Joel lay on his stomach, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other resting loosely beside his head. His chest rose and fell in steady, even breaths, his brow relaxed in sleep. The blankets were half pulled over him, and his face was turned slightly toward the door, catching a sliver of the lightning’s glow as it flashed outside.

He looked peaceful. Tired, but at ease.

You didn’t want to disturb that.

Your hand lingered on the doorframe, your weight shifting between your feet as you stood there in hesitation. Maybe you should go back. Maybe this was silly, maybe it was childish. The last thing you wanted was to make him think you couldn’t handle being alone in a room anymore.

But another clap of thunder cracked above the house, louder this time, and you jumped slightly, your breath catching in your throat. You felt the sting in your eyes before you could stop it.

You didn’t want to cry again.

Not in front of him. Not like this.

But you didn’t move. You stayed there in the doorway, frozen in the space between needing comfort and being afraid to ask for it.

Joel stirred slightly at the sound of the thunder, his brow twitching before his breathing evened again.

Still asleep.

You took a quiet, shaky breath, your hand slowly sliding down from the doorframe.

What if he didn’t want to be woken up?

What if he was mad?

What if you looked like the same scared little girl he used to tease gently during storms and cookouts?

But what if… he still cared?

Your voice barely made a sound as you whispered, “Mr. Miller…?”

No response.

Your lips parted to try again, quiet, unsure.

But You just stood there, just a little longer, hands curling into the sleeves of your borrowed shirt. His room felt warmer than the rest of the house, full of something familiar. Safer. But… you couldn’t do it.

He looked so peaceful. Tired. And after everything, after taking you in without hesitation, you didn’t want to seem selfish. You didn’t want him to think you were being dramatic over something as silly as thunder.

So, slowly, you stepped back.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you turned, bare feet light on the floor. You exhaled softly, already about to head down the hall in your mind. But then—

Creaaak.

A loud, sharp groan from the floorboard beneath your foot split through the quiet like a gunshot. You froze instantly, lips parting, eyes wide in horror.

Behind you, there was a shift. A rustle of blankets.

A low, gravelly voice, tired and rough from sleep.

“…What the hell…”

You slowly turned around, just enough to see Joel blink blearily in the darkness, his hand rubbing over his face before settling on his chest as he rolled on his back. His brows furrowed as his eyes adjusted, squinting through the low light.

When they landed on you, standing there like a child caught sneaking out, they softened slightly, but only just.

“…You alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse, a little rough with sleep. Then, with a grumble, “Why’re you creepin’ around like that? It’s the middle of the night.”

You opened your mouth, unsure what to say, arms instinctively crossing over your chest.

“I— I was just…” you whispered, eyes flickering down, cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Joel let out a low, tired sigh and shifted to sit up a little, propping himself up on one elbow, still trying to shake off the haze of sleep. His voice was less annoyed now, but still heavy.

“You need somethin’?” he murmured, watching you closely, his voice softer than before. “Or you just gonna haunt my doorway like a damn ghost?”

You stood frozen in the doorway, fingers tugging anxiously at the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you earlier. His shirt. Your voice was barely audible under the hum of the rain and the soft clap of distant thunder.

“I… I got scared,” you admitted, eyes cast low. “The thunder, the lightning… I know it’s dumb.”

Joel exhaled through his nose, dragging a hand across his face. He wasn’t mad at you. Not really. He just hadn’t had much sleep, between work and you showing up at his door soaked through and shaken, and now it was past midnight and your voice sounded like it used to when you were little, all soft and trembling. That’s what got to him.

He leaned up on one elbow, blinking blearily toward the door.

“Christ,” he muttered, voice gravelly. “You still get spooked by storms, huh?”

You shifted your weight, chewing your lip.

“Didn’t think I still would,” you murmured.

Joel huffed, more to himself than to you, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat up further. But the second he looked at you again, your now soft dry hair falling soft over your shoulders, that hesitant look in your eyes, it all hit him at once.

You weren’t that little girl anymore.

But in that moment, all he could think about was how many times you’d crept out during storms, curling up beside him on the couch while Sarah snored away in the other room. No words, just a quiet, innocent need for comfort. And how natural it always felt to give it.

But this, now, wasn’t so simple.

Not with the way your body filled out that shirt.

Not with the way something deep in his chest stirred just looking at you, a twinge of guilt shadowing the way his thoughts flickered dark for half a second, wondering how your warmth might feel curled beside him again. How small you’d feel in his arms now.

Joel dragged in a breath, low and tired.

“Used to be you’d sneak out to the couch,” he said gruffly, gaze lingering just a beat too long. “Tryna act like you weren’t scared. Like I wouldn’t notice you pressed up against my side like a puppy.”

You blinked, surprised he remembered. Your voice was small. “You never said anything.”

“‘Cause you looked like you’d cry if I did,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Always been soft.”

He let the words settle. Then, after a pause, his jaw worked a little and he sighed, half annoyed with himself, half too tired to care.

“You comin’ in or just gonna stand there all night?”

You hesitated a little longer, still standing in the doorway with your fingers curled in the fabric of the shirt. His shirt.

Your voice came out quieter this time, almost unsure.

“Are you sure it’s okay if I stay? Just… just until it passes?”

Joel looked at you again, eyes bleary but steady. He could see it, how nervous you were. Not just about the storm, but about being here, in his room, asking him for comfort like you used to. But it wasn’t the same now. You weren’t seven anymore. You weren’t some little girl needing to be scooped up and soothed.

You were grown.

And your body, Jesus, your body looked nothing like the last time he’d seen you. You’d filled out in every way, but there was still that wide-eyed softness in you. That part that always looked to him like he could make the world okay again if he just said the right thing.

He shifted on the bed, patting the other side with a quiet sigh.

“Yeah, darlin’. Just ‘til it passes.”

You gave a shy little nod before walking in slowly, the rain outside soft against the windows but thunder cracking again somewhere far off. You were trembling just a little when you got to the bed, and you climbed in carefully, like you didn’t want to disturb anything. Like you were scared of waking a moment that didn’t belong to you.

Joel didn’t move.

You settled on your side, back to him at first, curled slightly beneath the covers he pulled back for you. The warmth of the bed hit you instantly, and it was hard not to sigh in relief. But it wasn’t just the heat from the sheets or the thunder outside easing off, it was him. His presence. Just knowing he was here, that he let you in.

Your heart beat a little faster as it all hit you.

You were lying next to Joel Miller. The man who used to pat your head when you showed him little drawings. The man you used to make Christmas cards for. The man you secretly loved ever since you were thirteen and realized he wasn’t just “Mr. Miller,” your dad’s friend… but someone who made you feel safe. Warm. Special.

And now, here you were, older, softer, scared again. But this time, it felt different.

He was right there. His breath slow behind you. His body warm. And you couldn’t help but wonder…

Did he feel it too?

You lay still at first, curled close to the edge of the bed like a guest who didn’t know the rules. The blankets were warm, and the pillow soft, but your body couldn’t quite settle. Your back was to him, and your fingers were knotted into the sheets like they might keep you anchored.

The storm outside was still rumbling, the thunder not as sharp now but deep and constant, like it was pacing around the house.

You weren’t even sure if Joel was awake. You thought maybe you’d imagined him shifting behind you, until his voice came, low and rough with sleep, but clearly not imagined.

“What’re you doin’ all the way over there?” he muttered, grumbling like it physically pained him to speak in the middle of the night.

You stiffened a little, eyes wide in the dark. “I—” You swallowed, heat creeping into your face. “I didn’t wanna bother you…”

There was a pause. He let out a quiet sigh, one of those Joel sighs you remembered from when he’d get tired of your dad’s nonsense during cookouts. Tired, dry, and somehow still patient.

“Jesus,” he murmured, not harsh. Just tired. “You think I told you to come in here just to let you freeze over there like a damn guest?”

Your face burned. You bit your lip, heart pounding louder than the rain.

Carefully, so slowly it felt like a small journey, you shifted under the covers. Inch by inch, you moved closer. You could feel his body heat before you were even halfway there, and by the time your shoulder was only a breath away from his, you hesitated again. But something in you wanted more than just his warmth. You needed to feel him. To be close.

So you moved the last few inches, gently laying your head near his shoulder. Not on him—at first. Just close enough to breathe easier.

And then you gave in. Your cheek pressed gently against his chest, and your arm curled in toward yourself, fingers brushing his side as you tried not to overthink it.

Joel didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

But God, the way he felt, his chest rising and falling steady beneath your cheek, the familiar scent of him wrapping around you like a second blanket. That old scent. Soap and cedar and worn cotton and Joel.

You hadn’t felt this safe in a long time.

A tiny, involuntary sound left you, a soft, relieved sigh as your body relaxed. You nuzzled in just a little more, eyes fluttering shut as his warmth finally started to melt the cold from your skin.

Joel hadn’t said anything, but you could feel the tension in his chest. Not discomfort. Just… hesitation.

You knew that too. He didn’t know what to do with you now, not like this. Not grown, not curled up in his bed wearing his shirt, looking for comfort only he could give.

He didn’t say anything right away. But his chest shifted beneath you, his breathing slowing. And then, finally, his hand came up, tentative, rough, warm, and hovered near your back. Not touching. Just close. Like he was reminding himself that you were real.

You didn’t know if he’d fall asleep again. But you knew you would.

Because this was all you needed.

Joel stared at the ceiling.

The room was dark, save for the occasional flicker of lightning behind the curtain, and the steady sound of rain tapping on the window filled the quiet space. But even with the storm softening into background noise, sleep wouldn’t come.

He could feel her beside him, soft and warm, her breath slow and even now that she’d finally calmed down. She’d melted against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Her head resting gently on his chest, her hand tucked near her own heart, curled in the way people do when they finally feel safe.

Joel’s arm had settled around her without much thought. His hand now rested lightly at her waist, fingers lax but aware. He hadn’t meant to, at first it was just instinct, like the way he’d comforted Sarah when she was little, or even how he used to drape a blanket over her when she’d fall asleep on his couch during those late visits.

But this was different.

She wasn’t that little girl anymore.

The shape of her, the softness of her body as it pressed into his side, it was impossible not to notice. He hadn’t seen her in so long, and now here she was, grown, hurting, and laying in his bed like this was where she belonged. And Joel didn’t know what to do with that.

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched as he tried to steady the tide of thoughts rising in his chest. It wasn’t just that she’d changed, it was the way she still made him feel responsible, like her well-being was somehow in his hands. Maybe it always had been.

And dammit, part of him wished he had stayed around. Maybe things would’ve been different. Maybe she wouldn’t have shown up at his door soaked to the skin, eyes full of tears, begging silently for someone to just see her.

He shifted slightly, just enough to look down at her.

She looked peaceful now. Fragile, even. Her damp hair lay across his shirt, and her face, still youthful, but no longer childish, was softened by sleep. He remembered that face years ago, peeking up at him from a guitar she didn’t want to learn, or from behind her dad’s leg at a cookout.

And now here she was.

Joel let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, low and quiet.

She stirred a little but didn’t wake. Just nestled in closer, chasing his warmth in her sleep. And God help him, Joel tightened his arm gently around her, just enough to hold her there, just enough to keep her safe for one more night.

“Jesus,” he murmured under his breath, barely audible. “When the hell did that happen?” Referring to you growing up. Your once small body, developing.

Sleep would come for her.

But for him… maybe not just yet.

I had to freaking make this two parts since it’s so much so part 2 is just pure smut

[dizscreams]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT81ra4ov/

Hii! I've been binge reading most of ur fics, especially ur Hobie Brown ones :)) I was wondering if you could pls write one based off this tiktok, idk I feel like he'd give the most comforting hugs 😭 maybe the readers having a bad day and Hobie has to put up with it for the most part and she realizes how bad she's acting up and feels awful about it

STOP THIS TREND IS SO SWEET :(

MY BABY !

— Hobie Brown ★

PAIRING: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader

A/N: this helped me w my motivation hdjshfh

“Hey love, you alright?” Your boyfriend, who was sitting on your bed, greeted you as you entered your bedroom. You looked upset and angry as you flopped down on the bed. “ ‘M fine, Hobie,” you grumbled your reply as you put your face into your pillow.

“You don’t look fine.” He put his hand on your back and rubbed soothing circles on it before you swatted his hand away. “I’m fine,” you told him sternly, “I just want to take a nap.”

“You want me to take one with ya?”

“No, I want to be alone.”

You said the last part quite harshly and Hobie raised an eyebrow. He got up off of the bed and left the room muttering a ‘fine then’. He went into the living room and slumped down on the couch. Hobie bounced his foot up and down as he searched for something to watch on the TV.

He didn’t want to leave you alone, he wanted to comfort you. The fact that you didn’t want him around you hurt, but he also understood you just needed to calm down a bit. So, for half of the afternoon he sat on the couch while on his phone and half watching the tv.

That didn’t stop him from looking at your bedroom door and quietly going in the room to check on you every now and then, though. At one point you had finally come out of the room but you barely even looked at Hobie and when he tried to make conversation you brushed him off.

“Hungry?” He asked as he watched you rummage through the refrigerator.

“Yep.”

Hobie stood up and walked towards you. “Want me to make you somethin?” He asked, stretching.

“I’m fine, Hobie.” You slammed the refrigerator door and went back into your room. Hobie tilted his head back and let out a sigh as he walked back to the couch and sat on it. He wanted to know what was the matter with you but he didn’t want to risk making you even more mad.

The only reason he was being patient was because he knew you. He knew you’d come around.. eventually! He debated going back to his own dimension a couple thousand times while he was waiting but he didn’t want to leave you.

Eventually ended up being in the evening when Hobie was about to doze off on the couch.

You on the other hand couldn’t sleep. You hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the way you had treated your boyfriend. So, you slowly got up and opened your bedroom door to take a peak into the living room. You saw him sprawled out on the couch looking half awake.

You left the bedroom completely and walked over to the couch. “Hobie,” you asked quietly as you slightly shook him, “You awake?” He opened his eyes all the way and nodded, “Yeah, ‘M awake doll.” You smiled softly and sat at the end of the couch. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick today.” You gave him a sad look and he gave you a small smile in return. “C’mere,” he said as he shifted his position to sit back against the couch instead of laying across it. You made your way over to him and sat right next to him, leaning into his side.

You put your head on his shoulder and he put his arms around your middle. “I’m sorry, Hobie.” He chuckled, “t’s alright, love. Promise.” You shook your head, “It’s not.” You hugged him tighter and his smile only grew. “It is.”

You littered small kisses across his jaw and neck. “I really am sorry, baby. You’re too good to me,” you said against his skin. He shook his head and kissed the top of yours. “You wanna talk about why you’ve been in a mood all day?”

You smiled. and ranted to him while he traced shapes along your back.

[writingforstraykids]

We'll be right here

Pairing: husband!Minchanlix x fem!reader

Word Count: 1652

Summary: Getting sick isn't as bad with your three loving husbands anymore. Each of them has their way to take care of you and try to make you feel better.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, sick!fic, husband!min, husband!lix, husband!channie, comfort, short mentions of fever, coughing, sore throat

A/N: I thought I'd write you a little something for you to enjoy until you're feeling better, wifey @slutforchanlix 🖤 As you love all three of them I decided to go for your beloved Chanlix along with Minho☺️🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

You woke up feeling an unusual heaviness in your limbs, a dull ache in your head, and a scratchy throat that seemed to have appeared overnight. The bed that once felt like a sanctuary now felt like a trap as you struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness crashing over you.

“Ugh, I feel terrible,” you mumbled to yourself, barely recognizing your own voice. Your throat felt like sandpaper, and each word was a laborious effort. You reached for your phone, squinting at the bright screen to check the time. It was still early, but you knew you needed help.

“Hey guys, I think I’m sick,” you texted the group chat with your husbands. Your fingers felt clumsy, and even typing out that short message seemed to drain what little energy you had left.

It wasn’t long before you heard footsteps hurrying down the hall. The door to your room creaked open, and Minho’s concerned face appeared, quickly followed by Felix and Chan. Minho, always the observant one, was the first to approach your bed.

“Y/nnie, why didn’t you say something sooner?” Minho’s voice was gentle but laced with worry as he placed the back of his hand on your forehead. “You’re burning up.”

Felix knelt by the bed, his brows furrowed in concern. “You should’ve called us earlier. We’re here to take care of you, remember?”

Chan sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes filled with concern. “Don’t worry, we’ve got you. Let’s get you comfortable first.”

Minho disappeared into the kitchen, determined to make you some soup. You could hear the clattering of pots and pans, a reassuring sound that brought a small smile to your lips despite the discomfort.

Felix, always the sweet one, began massaging your aching limbs. His touch was gentle and soothing, working out the tension that had built up in your muscles. “This will help you feel better, I promise,” he said softly, a comforting warmth to his words.

You managed a weak smile, appreciating the effort they were putting into making you feel better. “Thanks, Felix. It already helps.”

Felix grinned, his freckles dancing on his cheeks as he did. “Good, because I’m not stopping until you’re back to your usual self. And I might throw in a few jokes to speed up the process.”

You chuckled weakly, the sound turning into a cough that made your throat burn. Felix’s hand stilled for a moment, but he quickly resumed, trying to soothe the discomfort.

Chan reached over and took your hand in his, his grip firm yet gentle. “I won’t let you go through this alone. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

A tear slipped down your cheek at his words, not from sadness but from the overwhelming gratitude you felt. “You guys are amazing. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Minho returned with a steaming bowl of soup, the aroma filling the room and making your stomach growl despite the nausea. “Alright, time for some of my special homemade soup. It’s guaranteed to make you feel better.”

He sat beside you, carefully blowing on a spoonful of soup before bringing it to your lips. “Open up, Y/nnie. Just a little at a time.”

You obediently opened your mouth, the warm broth sliding down your throat and instantly providing a bit of relief. Minho continued to feed you patiently, ensuring you ate slowly so as not to upset your stomach further.

“Thank you, Minho. This is really good,” you said between sips, feeling a bit of strength returning with each spoonful.

Minho smiled, his eyes soft with affection. “Anything for you. Just focus on getting better, okay?”

As the day went on, the three of them took turns tending to your needs. Felix continued his massages, cracking silly jokes that made you smile even when you didn’t think you had the energy to.

“What did the sick tomato say to the other tomato?” Felix asked with a grin.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “What?”

“I’m feeling a bit under the weather,” Felix replied, wiggling his eyebrows comically.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound blending with a cough. “That’s terrible, Felix.”

He laughed along with you, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere in the room. “I know, but if it makes you smile, it’s worth it.”

Chan was your constant source of comfort, his presence a soothing balm to your fevered state. Whenever you felt cold, he would wrap his arms around you, holding you close and sharing his warmth. “I’m not going anywhere,” he’d whisper, his breath tickling your ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.”

You leaned into his embrace, finding solace in his steady heartbeat and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. “I don’t want to get you sick,” you murmured, though your words were half-hearted. The comfort he provided was too precious to refuse.

“You won’t,” Chan assured you, his voice firm and unwavering. “Taking care of you is more important. We’ll worry about me later.”

Minho kept the soup coming, ensuring you stayed hydrated and nourished. He even prepared some herbal tea, its soothing properties helping to ease the soreness in your throat. Each sip felt like a small victory, a step closer to feeling normal again.

“Minho, you’re really good at this,” you said after finishing another bowl of soup. “Have you been practicing?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Just years of taking care of you all. Plus, it’s easy to put in the effort when it’s for someone as special as you, my beautiful wife,” he winked at you, making you blush softly.

The day stretched on, with Felix’s jokes becoming a steady background to the symphony of Minho’s cooking and Chan’s comforting presence. The combination of their care and the medicine they brought you gradually began to ease your symptoms.

As the sun set and the room grew dim, Minho suggested you try to get some rest. “Sleep is the best medicine, after all. We’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion settling in. “Thank you, all of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Felix tucked the blankets around you, his touch gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to worry about that because we’re not going anywhere.”

Chan kissed your forehead, his lips cool against your fevered skin. “Sweet dreams, Y/nnie. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

You drifted off to sleep, their presence a comforting anchor in the haze of your illness. The night passed in a blur of fevered dreams and intermittent wakefulness, but every time you opened your eyes, one of them was there, keeping watch and ensuring you were never alone.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of quiet chatter and the smell of fresh coffee. Blinking blearily, you saw Minho setting a tray with breakfast on your bedside table, Felix fluffing the pillows behind you, and Chan smiling warmly from the foot of the bed.

“How are you feeling today?” Minho asked, his voice gentle as he helped you sit up.

“A bit better,” you admitted, surprised at the improvement. “Still tired, but not as bad as yesterday.”

Felix grinned, his eyes sparkling with relief. “That’s what we like to hear. More soup?”

You nodded, grateful for their continued care. “Yes, please. I think it’s working.” Minho handed you a bowl, and you sipped the warm broth slowly, savoring the taste. “Thank you, Minho. This really is the best soup I’ve ever had.”

He smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I’m glad you like it. There’s plenty more where that came from.”

As you ate, Chan took your hand in his, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “We’ll keep taking care of you until you’re back to full strength. No rush.”

Felix leaned in, his expression playful. “And I’ve got plenty more jokes to keep you entertained. Ready for another one?”

You laughed, the sound feeling more natural and less strained. “Always.”

“What do you call fake spaghetti?” Felix asked, his grin widening.

“I don’t know, what?” you replied, curious despite yourself.

“An impasta!” he exclaimed, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the silly joke lifting your spirits. “You’re ridiculous, Felix.”

“But you love me for it,” he shot back, his grin infectious.

Chan squeezed your hand gently. “And we all love you, Y/nnie. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

Tears of gratitude welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were accompanied by a genuine smile. “I love you all too. Thank you for everything.”

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion, with Minho ensuring you were well-fed, Felix keeping you entertained, and Chan providing constant comfort. They took turns sitting with you, their presence a constant reminder that you were loved and cared for.

By the time night fell again, you felt significantly better. The fever had subsided, and the aches in your body had lessened. You knew you still had a way to go, but with them by your side, you felt confident you could handle anything.

“Feeling ready for bed?” Chan asked as he helped you settle back under the blankets.

“Yeah, I think so,” you replied, exhaustion creeping in once more.

Felix kissed your forehead gently. “Sweet dreams, Y/nnie. We’ll be here when you wake up.”

Minho adjusted the covers one last time, his touch tender. “Rest well. Tomorrow will be even better.”

As you closed your eyes, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. Surrounded by their love and care, you knew you were in the best possible hands. And with that comforting thought, you drifted off to sleep, your heart full of gratitude and affection for the three amazing men who had shown you just how much they cared.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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[seungfl0wer]

*Hyunjin Calling You Clingy*

Paring: Hyunjin x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Arguing, Cursing, Op Accidentally Punches Hyune in the nose, Blood Mentions, Not Proofread

This is part of a series find the others here:

Bangchan, Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin

-🩵

Today was a rough day for your boyfriend or so you heard. Walking into the dorms Han was leaving to go get food when he smiled at you “ah y/n good thing you’re here Hyunjins in a bad mood, maybe you can make him feel better” he said as he put on his jacket. “Why? What happened?” You asked surprise because he hadn’t said anything about it. “Oh you know choreograph not going well, he also got into a small argument with Changbin about it so it’s not going to well.” He said as he opened the door to leave. “I’ll try my best” you salute standing there him laughing as he left.

You made your way to his room knocking not wanting to barge in when he was already upset “what!” He said loudly “Jinnie it’s me!” You said trying to put on the happiest voice you could. You could hear him sighing as he came to the door unlocking it he walked back to what he was doing not even greeting you at the door.

“Hi baby” you said with a sickening sweet smile. “Hi” is all he said back his voice a bit cold as he continued to paint. “Ooh whatcha painting?” You asked moving behind him to watch. To you, you were just watching him to him, it felt like you were hovering over. “Can you not stand so close?” He said moving his chair up a bit. Your eyebrows raised a bit “mhm” you said moving back sitting on the bed now.

“I’ve missed you!” You said smiling behind him. He didn’t say anything just “mmhm” to your words. You felt your heart become a bit heavy, feeling bad for him but also now bad you bothered him. You sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke “so why are you here?” His tone coming off as annoyed.

“Oh uh.. just missed you.” Your voice trailing off at how he was being towards you. “You literally see me all the time.” He said rolling his eyes even though you couldn’t see it. “Yeah well I can still miss you haven’t see you at all today” you huffed from behind him. “and?” He said blankly “what do you mean and??” You questioned your voice becoming more aggressive. “And? Like why’s it such a bad thing not to see me? Why do you always have to be clingy and come in my personal space when I didn’t even ask you to.” His words hurt as they came out digging deeply into you.

“Did you really just call me clingy? Me? The one that tries giving you space and then you whine I’m not paying attention to you?” He argued back. “I don’t care how shitty your day was today why the fuck are you taking it out on me!” You continued making Hyune stop painting he turned his body to face you face red “My day was shit yeah, and all I wanted to do is come home and paint. I wanted to relax, cool down and do something I loved but no I’m forced to sit here listening to you bitch and complain.” His words were hot like lava spewing out of him like a volcano.

“Ive literally only said I fucking missed you, you asshole!” You said getting up. As you got up hyunjin went to move hitting the table he was working on and spilling the water all over his painting. His eyes went wide anger overcoming him “See what you fucking do! You fucking ruin everything!” He screamed at you now you could see tears start to fall down his cheek as he yelled. “Go home y/n! I don’t want to see you for a while!” He said his anger now turning into sobs.

He was so overwhelmed and stressed he just broke down. “Hyune..” you said softly reaching out for him “please.. just leave me alone right now.. I just want to be alone..” he said his voice cracking as he sobbed into his hands. “If.. if you do need me.. you know where I’m at..” you said getting up to leave to room. You ended up seeing Han as you got into your car your face saying everything about what had happened he could only give you a sad smile and wave as you drove back to your house.

It was about 2AM when you felt your bed dip down a bit, startled you jolted up punching whoever was there straight in the nose. “AH Fuck!” The familiar voice shrieked. You quickly turned on your bed side light to see your boyfriend there holding his now bleeding nose “Oh my fucking jinnie im so sorry!” You said your hands stuttering as you go to touch. “Honestly don’t be sorry after how I was today I deserved that.” He said getting up to head to your bathroom.

You followed him “don’t say that no matter how much we argue I’ll never think hitting you would solve things” you said grabbing a tissue to wipe his lips now stained with blood. You helped clean him up his eyes never meeting yours, he quickly grabbed your hand that was on his face looking up at you. “Y/n listen- im sorry for what I said it was out of anger.”

You nod “yeah no shit” your tone almost teasing “im being serious I know it’s not an excuse but everything just came crashing down and you coming over when I really needed time to clear my head just- made it worse im sorry i really am though.” He blabbed on. “They say you say things you’re to afraid of saying when your angry.” You said grabbing another tissue his nose still bleeding.

“No really y/n I-“ you cut him off “no Jinnie I get it really.. I am clingy and I do fuck things up a lot no biggie” you nonchalant words making his heart break “y/n your not-“ he tried you cutting him off again “listen.. you’re gonna say no and you didn’t mean it but the fact of the matter is I am clingy hyune I know I am. It’s something I’m gonna have to work on. However you’re gonna have to work on talking to me and communicating things. Tell me when you wanna be left alone before you get angry or just tell me through texts like ‘hey don’t come over it’s me time’ something hyune” you rambled.

He looked up at you “I am sorry for what I said though.. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He said his voice sounding almost strained. You shrug at his response “nothing we can do now, but i think I’ll start giving you more space. Maybe work on me as I do.” You said moving your body. “Your nose is all good.”

He stood up looking in the mirror “you got me really good” he said with a soft chuckle “yeah remember that when you wanna fight again.” You teased throwing up your fists. “Yeah yeah” he said wrapping his arms around you “can we go cuddle and maybe talk a bit?” He asked his voice soft, you nod before he lets you go. “But first” he said taking out a painting he had in his backpack. “This is for you.” He said handing you a pretty painting of flowers in a meadow. “Hyune” you said smiling at it “do you remember that place?” He asked tilting his head “it’s the place I took you to when I asked you to be mine.” He said kissing your forehead. “You might annoy me at times but you’ll always be my muse.” He said fluffing your hair.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[strwberrybils]

WORKIN’ DAY AND NIGHT | b. eilish.

billie was supposed to be home an hour ago.

it bothered you so bad when she stayed out late and didn’t tell you that she wasn’t gonna be home, mostly because it made you feel stupid, just as you did currently— you had been up waiting for her for nearly three hours, and embarrassment was the only thing you felt now.

you texted and called, of course, but she never answered. the phone would ring a few times and then ship you right off to her voicemail. if you were being honest, the last three phone calls you made were only because all you wanted to hear was her soft voice and her sweet laugh.

“hey, it’s billieee! i can’t come to the phone right now, obviously— so just leave a message for me, and i’ll call you back. love you, take care— finneas, shut up! i’m recording my voicemail— wait, how do i turn this shit off? wait, okay, bye for real this time.”

the line went dead as you hung up the one-sided phone call. you were sad now, tears beginning to gloss over your eyes when you slithered underneath the covers of your bed, billie’s scent still lingering on the pillows and in the sheets. you laid on your side and cut off the lamp next to you, grabbing your phone and aimlessly scrolling on social media to distract your mind.

the truth was, you had a really shitty day for a multitude of reasons, and all you really wanted was to compensate for that by spending some time with your girlfriend. however, she clearly had other plans— she was in the studio with finneas and it was making you upset that she hadn’t even checked in.

frustration was what brought you to tears, not sadness. you wiped your eyes harshly and shut your phone off, sinking deep into your mattress and attempting to fall asleep, though your heart and mind were racing. you tossed and turned with the hope that the physical exertion would make you sleepy, but it did nothing but make you full of more adrenaline.

you literally tossed and turned for an hour and a half until you heard the door fly open, watching billie come through it and flicker on a small lamp on your nightstand. she was out of breath, and immediately slipped her shoes and clothes off to where she was nothing in a tank top and her underwear.

“y/n, baby— i’m so so sorry i didn’t check in, me and finneas were fucking some taco bell up and then we got so distracted with the production that i…” billie paused, now standing idle in front of you as you sat up to look at her with teary eyes. “i guess i just…i forgot.”

you laid back down in your spot in the bed as billie sat at the edge of it, putting her hair in a quick bun and grabbing some aquaphor from the drawer next to her. as she put it on her lips, she shot you a heartbroken expression, “i’m sorry baby. please talk to me…i-i feel horrible.”

“just wish you would’ve remember that i existed. enough to at least send a text.” you whispered, clearly hurt by the way your voice cracked a little when you spoke. warm tears began running down your cheeks and billie immediately scooped you up, pulling you into her lap as she laid on the covers. she pulled the duvet over you and then grabbed your face with a free hand, an apologetic expression transcribed all over her face.

“no, angel— that’s not it at all, you’re so very important to me and of course i remembered you existed. but i was just so focused on writing that i wasn’t even on my phone, but i wont let it happen again, okay? i’m gonna always put my baby first. because i love you.”

“i love you too, bils.” you murmured as she smiled, grabbing both sides of your face tightly and peppering kisses all over your skin. you groaned at first, but you secretly loved it— how soft and affectionate she got when the two of you were alone and in your quiet space together.

she kissed you once more, softly against the lips, before pulling away and rubbing your thigh underneath the blanket, “tomorrow i’m gonna make up for my mistake. we’re gonna go downtown and get food on me, and then i’m gonna take you shopping and spoil the fuck ‘outta you.”

you giggled at that, nodding your head and resting it on billie’s chest as you felt a wave of sleepiness wash over you. the last thing you felt was your girlfriend toying with your hair before you were drawn to sleep.

“sweet dreams, babygirl.”

[unfgvien]

bad day

pairing - bucky x reader

summary - Y/N, pregnant with Bucky's baby, is overwhelmed by the thought of motherhood. Bucky comforts her, assures her they will overcome challenges, and provides hope for the future.

word count - 893

Y/N sat on the edge of their bed, staring blankly at the wall. The afternoon sun poured in through the window, but it did little to lift her spirits. She was pregnant with Bucky's baby, and while the news should have brought joy, today had turned into one of those days where everything felt wrong.

The morning had started with a spilled cup of coffee all over her favorite shirt, followed by a phone call from her mother that only added to her stress. Y/N felt overwhelmed. She had been meaning to paint the nursery, but the thought of it seemed impossible. Her body was tired and heavy, and she barely managed to get off the couch most days. Now, the thought of being a mom felt daunting. What if she wasn’t good enough?

Bucky was away on a mission. He had left early in the morning, promising to be back by dinner. He always knew how to make her smile, and on days like this, she needed him the most. Her eyes stung as she blinked away tears, feeling like a bad person for being so upset. She was supposed to be happy; everyone expected it, including herself.

As she sat in silence, the sound of the door opening broke her thoughts. Bucky walked in, looking worn out but happy to see her. His face changed when he noticed her red eyes and the way she hugged herself tightly, almost as if trying to hold her sadness in.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? ” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

She shook her head, unable to find the words. The tears started to flow again, and soon she was crying quietly, feeling completely lost. Bucky rushed to her side, kneeling on the floor in front of her.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed, carefully placing a hand on her knee. “You don’t have to hide any of this from me. ”

“I just feel so. . . so overwhelmed,” she finally managed to say, her voice trembling. “I’m not ready for a baby, and I’m a mess. I don’t know what I’m doing, Bucky. ”

Bucky’s face softened as he listened. He knew she was struggling, but hearing her express it hurt his heart. “You are going to be an amazing mom,” he said gently, his blue eyes searching hers. “You are so caring and loving. Just look at how you take care of me. ”

She wiped her eyes, letting out a small, shaky laugh. “You don’t need much care, you’re a superhero. ”

“But that doesn���t mean I’m perfect,” he replied, a smile creeping onto his face. “I have my share of bad days too, you know. We all do. ”

Bucky stood up and helped Y/N off the bed. “Come on, let me take care of you. How about a nice warm bath? ” he suggested, leading her to the bathroom.

Y/N nodded, feeling a little lighter. She watched as Bucky filled the tub with water, adding a calming lavender bath oil. The steam rose, wrapping them both in warmth. It was comforting to be with him, even in her messiness.

Once the tub was ready, he helped her in, watching her every move with careful eyes. The water enveloped her, and she leaned back, feeling the tension in her body begin to melt away. Bucky settled down on the floor beside the bathtub, his presence reassuring.

“Just close your eyes and relax, okay? ” he said, his voice soothing like a warm blanket. “I’ve got you. ”

She nodded again and closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of the water and Bucky's soft voice. As she sat in the warm bath, she could hear him humming softly. It was one of their favorite songs, and she found herself smiling a bit, relaxing into the moment.

Bucky, seeing her mood change, smiled brightly. “See? You’re not a mess. You’re just having a hard day, and that’s okay. ”

Y/N opened her eyes and looked at him. “What if I mess up? What if I’m not a good mom? ”

“Every parent has those fears,” he replied seriously. “What matters is that you care. And I promise, we’re in this together. You will never be alone in raising our child. We’ll figure it all out as a team. ”

His words warmed her heart. She knew he meant every word. Knowing that Bucky was beside her through all of this made the worries feel lighter.

“Thank you for being here,” she said softly, her voice filled with gratitude. “Some days are really hard. ”

Bucky chuckled gently. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. You are my whole world, Y/N, and soon our little one will be a part of it too. ”

They sat together in comfortable silence, the only sounds being the gentle splashing of the water and Bucky’s soft humming. As the warm water wrapped around her, Y/N realized that while she might be feeling lost today, she was not alone. With Bucky by her side, she could face whatever challenges awaited them, and that made all the difference in the world.

The weight on her heart began to ease, and for the first time that day, she felt a sense of hope. Things would be okay. They had each other. And for now, that was enough.

do not translate, copy, publish or edit my works without permission. © bunnie 2024-25

[steddieas-shegoes]

guard my heart

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘guard’

rated t | 532 words | no cw | tags: mutual pining, friends to lovers, getting together, slightly self conscious Eddie, good friend Robin, first kiss

🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️

“I just don’t understand why you won’t tell him!” Robin whisper-yells at him. “He’s gonna be fine with it!”

“It’s not about him being fine with it,” Eddie sighs. “I’m just trying to guard my heart a little.”

“So pining after him is making it easier?”

She’s so fucking rude for that, but Eddie isn’t gonna get upset. No, he can’t let his emotions win on this one, no matter what Robin tries to convince him to do.

“Are you guys gonna come hang out with everyone or be weird by the door?” Steve asks as he walks closer to them, dripping wet from his recent dive into the pool.

He catches Robin rolling her eyes before she walks away and leaves him alone with the man he’s lusting after. It sounds stupid like that, but there’s no other explanation for the way he wants to-

“You good? No one will care if you leave your shirt on. Or if you wanna take it off. Like, everyone’s gonna be cool with your scars or if you don’t wanna show them off,” Steve says quietly, as if that’s the issue Eddie’s facing at a pool party with Steve.

Sure, a small part of him worries that the kids will be horrified to see his badly healed scars on display, and he worries that they’ll get sad if he keeps them covered. He worries that he’s ugly, pieced together like Frankenstein’s monster, remnants of what he used to be. He knows it’s a lot.

But a bigger part of him is just worried that Steve will see too much of him, that he’ll ruin any tiny shred of a chance that Steve might feel anything for him beyond friendship. Robin insists— keeps insisting— that he just tell him how he feels, that he might be surprised, but he can’t.

“I’m good. Don’t think I wanna get in tonight,” Eddie lies. He’s sweating under his clothes, and he wore his bathing suit trunks in hopes he could be brave. The pool would feel nice after such a hot and humid day.

“You sure?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, man. I’m fine. Go hang out with the kiddos.”

Steve doesn’t leave, though.

He tilts his head to the side, eyes searching Eddie’s. He’s biting his bottom lip between his teeth, and clearly trying to figure something out.

“Can you help me with something inside for a second?” He finally settles on, and Eddie’s a little confused, but nods in agreement. Eddie will do anything for Steve.

Steve leads them both inside, closing the sliding glass door behind them. He walks into the kitchen and leans his back against the counter. Eddie stands awkwardly a few feet away, waiting for direction.

“What did you need help with?” Eddie finally asks after Steve’s been watching him for a solid minute.

“Understanding something.”

Eddie gulps.

“Understanding what?” Eddie’s heart races.

“Why you won’t tell me how you feel.”

Steve’s stepping closer, close enough that water is dripping onto Eddie’s feet and the floor below.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks and Eddie’s nodding before he even fully comprehends the question.

Their lips touch and Eddie forgets why he was so scared.

[guywithn0name]

-Alphabet headcanons-

;Miles G Morales

Miles G Morales x any gender reader

🎸 | Masterlist | 🎸

I still haven’t finished a post I’ve had in my drafts for like 3 months already ( ・∇・) (it’s a Leon Kennedy post lol) but in the meantime I’m going to write this and actively ignore the drafts (^з^)-♡ and ik Miles from 1610 and this Miles are super similar but they have different headcannons since they are still different people and they’ve had different experiences so yeah lol.

Warnings: not rly proofread

-‘A’ is for AFFECTION (how affectionate are they?)

Miles isn’t one to show much affection beyond a simple hand-in-hand or a small and quick peck while in public. But he is more affectionate when you two are in private, or with people he’s comfortable around. His love language is acts of service along with quality time. He likes building his tech when you’re around, not really talking but just chilling together while listening to music. If Miles ever gives you gifts he’ll give you homemade gifts like; paper bouquet, handwritten letter, homemade food and ect. I don’t really think he’d give a lot of materialistic gifts. Mostly because over half of the money he steals is to help him and his mom. And he doesn’t really get the point of them either. He gets they’re nice, but why buy something expensive when you can make something?

-‘B’ is for BESTFRIEND (what are they like as a bestfriend?)

He’a a pretty chill guy to be friends with at the end of the day. He might be a bit closed off at first but when he opens up he’s a huge nerd. He’ll talk about his tech for hours if you know he’s the Prowler. If you two go to a McDonald’s or something, he’s the one who’ll give you one chicken nugget but not buy you a box for you because he’s too poor for that, but if you buy him McDonald’s or something like that, he will give you something self-made as a thank you gift.

-‘C’ is for CUDDLES (how and do they like to cuddle?)

He’s one of them sleepy cuddle people, he especially cuddles with you when he’s sleepy or tired. He acts like he’s a big spoon when y’all cuddle, but he’s really a secret little spoon. He isn’t big on showing affection like I said before, but he is semi cuddly when you two are alone in peace. He likes wrapping himself around you, full body hug and all.

-‘D’ is for DOMESTIC (if they settle down, how will they help?)

Miles is a bit hesitant on settling down with someone. He wants to, yeah. But because of his Prowler job he isn’t quick to just live with anybody. But that aside, let’s talk about what it’s like to live with Miles. He’s the type of person who wants to split the chores. The chores he would do is probably cooking and things along those lines. If you know he’s the Prowler you 100% will find some random parts around the place. The random prowler claw in the coffee table in the living room. Don’t worry about it, Miles just wanted to watch some tv while he was fixing it. Miles appearing in the kitchen, his hands somehow covered in oil? He’s just getting water, don’t mind the oil, it’s just from his motorcycle. The random motorcycle and tech parts on the kitchen counter? Don’t worry, he’ll clean it up soon. He always tries to clean up his messes, but you might find some things that don’t belong in random places.

-‘E’ is for ENDING (how would the break up go?)

Depending on the situation of the break up and who breaks up with who, he still probably might be a bit sad about it, before or after the break up. If you’re the one who’s breaking up with him, he’d definitely want a reason why. He’d probably feel upset about it if it was for a good reason. If he’s the one breaking up with you. There’s are two reasons for him to break up with you. Reason number one; he doesn’t like you anymore and he’s not cruel enough to date someone he doesn’t like. Reason number two; he doesn’t want to put you in danger because of his Prowler job, he just wants to protect you one of the few ways he knows how to.

-‘F’ is for FIANCÉ (how do they feel about marriage)

Miles’ a bit hesitant to marry someone, but he does want to marry someone at some point of his life. He wants the same kind of marriage and love his mom and dad had together. If Miles has a wedding, he’d want a small wedding with only close friends and family attending. He’s not that interested in a big wedding with a ton of people. He thinks a wedding is something only the people who you and him are actually close to.

-‘G’ is for GENTLE (how gentle are they?)

He tries his best to be gentle with you. But he isn’t too good with it. Miles had built a kind of wall around himself after his dad’s death. He still tries his best with you, but somewhat always keeps you at an arms length. But after some time he lets you get closer. Miles’ always careful not to make you uncomfortable or uneasy.

-‘H’ is for HUGS (do they like hugs?)

Miles does like hugs, but he definitely isn’t that clear about it. He also somehow has some of the warmest, and best hugs ever to exist. His hugs with his family member and close friends are like bearhugs. He’s a little awkward hugging strangers tho.

-‘I’ is for I LOVE YOU (when do they say I love you for the first time?)

All things considered, Miles was probably the one who said “I love you” first. You two were hanging out on the rooftop of the apartment complex he lived in, just chilling and looking at the stars while listening to music from his phone. And suddenly he just blurted the words “I love you” while admiring you. It was a cute moment.

-‘J’ is for JEALOUSY (do they get easily jealous? And if they do, what will they do?)

He doesn’t get jealous that much, only when other people obviously flirt with you or something along those lines, he’s more protective than jealous most of the time. He knows you’re loyal, so he doesn’t act too jealous. The most he’ll do when he’s jealous is a small tug on your hand to signal he wants to leave while glaring at the other person, he has a cold exterior so the glare wasn’t unnecessary surprising.

-‘K’ is for KISSES (how often do they like to get or give kisses, and where?)

Miles isn’t someone who likes to give a lot of affection in public, like I said earlier. He does like giving kisses, and reviving them. Miles just doesn’t like giving them in public. When he does give kisses in public, the most he’ll do is give a little peck on the cheek, forehead or on your temple. When he does kiss you on the lips, he’ll definitely do it when you two are alone or at each others place like I’ve said multiple times. When you two kiss, he likes to have his hand on you hip or on the side of you neck. Miles also likes giving soft pecks on the neck when you two cuddle. He enjoys getting kisses, but he doesn’t like showing that. His favourite part to get kissed is on his temple or on the crook of his neck, but only a gentle kiss or peck.

-‘L’ is for LITTLE ONES (how are they with kids?)

There’s only one word on how to describe Miles with kids, awkward. He isn’t bad with them, or good with them. Just awkward. He doesn’t wanna hurt one of them, because of that he doesn’t really know how to handle them. He’s too scared that he’ll hurt one, so he prefers not to interact with kids.

-‘M’ is for MORNINGS (how are mornings with them?

He’s a groggy morning boy. And like I mentioned he’s cuddly when he’s tired, so don’t be expecting to be able to get up early. So when you wake up, you’re 100% in some messy position with Miles wrapped around you or laying on top of you. He probably drooled at least a bit during the night too. His whole morning routine is pretty simple, get up from bed. (Like ten minutes after he woke up) Then changing his clothes and getting breakfast after brushing his teeth, a simple and quick morning.

-‘N’ is for NIGHTS (how are nights with them?)

Miles has a full on night routine, it’s not a complicated one, but he still has one. He always takes a shower before he goes to bed. And his whole skin routine is only water. How does he have such clear skin with so little effort? Only no one knows. He also wears a durag to bed, he also has like three different durags to choose from. Why? Don’t ask, seriously, don’t. (He doesn’t know either) He also always says “good night” and “love you” to his mom before going to sleep. When he moves out, he’ll text it to her occasionally, but every night but some nights. Just to remind her that he still exists. (They talk almost every other day or every day on the phone)

-‘O’ is for OPEN (how open are they about themselves?)

Miles was more open before his dad’s death, but he became a lot more closed off after it. It takes a while for him to fully trust someone. But when he does give someone his trust, it’s like peeling an onion, a lot of layers. He’s slow at opening up, but when he does it means he really does trust you. When he does in fact trust you, you’re one of his forever friends. He’s the type of guy to have a few close friends rather than a lot of not so close friends.

-‘P’ is for PATIENCE (how patient are they with you?)

Since Miles himself is a pretty standoffish, so he understands if you don’t want to be open with him right off the bat. He’s definitely patient with you as long as you’re patient with him too. He wants to take his time with the relationship, not rush to things.

-‘Q’ is for QUIZZES (how much do they remember about you?)

Miles actually remembers quite a lot about you. It’s pretty surprising since he’s the Prowler, and his school along with helping his mom at home too.

-‘R’ is for REMEMBER (what’s their favourite moment in the relationship?)

One of his favourite moments in your relationship was when he told you he was the Prowler. You two had been dating for about a year and half at that point. You were staying over the night at his place. It was almost Halloween and the two of you were coming up with costume ideas when the topic of vigilantes came up. Or more specifically, the Prowler. Miles had been thinking about telling you that he was the Prowler for a bit at this point. So, he decided that now was a good time to tell you. A bit later Miles takes a deep breath and then takes your hands in his, before finally telling you the truth of him being the Prowler. It was a really nice moment to the two of you, and now one of Miles favourite moment of your relationship.

-‘S’ is for SECURITY (how protective are they?)

He’s actually a little protective, he wasn’t as protective before his dad died, but he got more protective after it. He doesn’t wanna loose another person who’s close to him. He also developed a small habit of walking you home when you’re over at his place. The city’s dangerous and he knows it, he likes knowing that you got home safe after you leave his place, it gives him some comfort.

-‘T’ is for TRY (how much effort are they putting into the relationship, dates and ect?)

Miles puts in his share fair of effort into the relationship, but if he notices that you’re not putting the same amount of effort into the relationship he’ll become more distant. He wants that the both of you put in effort for the relationship, not just one-sided effort. Like I mentioned before, he likes giving hand-made gifts and likes to cook homemade meals for you. He isn’t the biggest fan of going on fancy dates or anything. Mostly because he doesn’t really have enough money to pay for them, plus the city he lives in (and most likely you) definitely isn’t the safest place to have dates outside. Miles really likes dates that are spent indoors at each others houses. He especially likes movie dates, and dates where you cook or bake together. Doesn’t matter if you’re good at it or not, he’ll still have a lot of fun with you.

-‘U’ is for UGLY (what’s a bad habit of theirs?)

He sometimes has a dumb habit of forgetting to answer texts or calls when his phone’s on silent. And if he does see it, he sometimes forgets to respond completely and only realises it a few hours later.

-‘V’ is for VANITY (how insecure are they?)

He’s not an insecure person, at all. He’s pretty confident in himself, he’s just quiet. But like with my Miles 1610 alphabet headcannon, he’ll get a tiny iny bit insecure if you two haven’t spent time together in a while. (you should go read it if you haven’t already ;) )

-‘W’ is for WHOLE (do they feel whole without you?)

Miles would be sad without you, but he wouldn’t fully feel incomplete without you. But he would certainly miss you. He already lost his dad, so he knows how to deal with sadness. He would miss you. But it all depends if you died or left him. If you died Miles would definitely make a graffiti of you, just like he did of his dad. But if you left him, or the other way around. He would probably think about you time to time, even miss you at times. But he wouldn’t come after you, the walls around his heart wouldn’t let him.

-‘X’ is for XTRA (extra headcanon about them)

Miles is a great cook, his mom taught him how to cook since he’s been little. He wants to get a small tattoo in honour of his dad in the future. He likes drawing you in his sketchbooks, and as little doodles in sticky notes that are on his blueprints of his gear and other things. He actually doesn’t enjoy horror movies a lot, he gets scared easily by them even tho he puts on a front of not-being-scared-of-anything. Miles definitely tender headed, and he only ever lets a very specific barber or his mom touch his hair. And you if you’re lucky.

-‘Y’ is for YUCK (what can they not stand?)

He hates people who just cannot season food properly, it disgusts and pains him at the same time.

-‘Z’ is for ZLEEP (how is to sleep with them?)

Two words for sleeping with him; no space. He moves around a ton while he sleeps and like I mentioned earlier, he cuddles a lot while he sleeps. He definitely has a second blanket that he hugs in his sleep when he can’t cuddle anyone. He’s also one of those people who just cannot sleep without a blanket on. Is he overheating under it? Maybe. But he can’t not sleep with it. Without it he ain’t sleeping, honestly.

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!! :)