#I'm like... okay man. I really feel unwanted

[lymtw]

Deceiving Dreams

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

Toji woke up sweating, a foul feeling in his chest after what he just dreamt. You were the star and your co-star was not him, but some random dude who was way too comfortable with touching you. His hands would brush over your shoulders and your thighs like he was familiar with your body, but what was absolutely stomach churning, was the way he kissed you softly and slowly. You didn't even push him away, instead you reciprocated the gesture. You did the sweet things that you only do with him, like smiling at this man in that way that makes wonder brim your eyes. You kissed the corner of this stranger's lips, on the same side that Toji's scar is on, coincidentally, and you wrapped your arms around this stranger with that same amount of hesitance you show Toji, as if this person you've known for mere minutes summed up the butterflies and electric feelings your lover makes you feel in that short span of time.

Toji hasn't been this unsettled by something regarding you since the time you cried during an argument that spiraled out of his jealousy. Things got out of hand, but since then, he's learned that he can't do things that way with you. He can't shut you out, and he can't snap at you or you will crumble to the ground.

Patience is a hard thing to learn, and though being with you has taught Toji how to be more careful with his words and to be understanding of your struggles to communicate certain things, at the end of the day, he's still learning. How does anyone deal with this kind of thing in a gentle and unassuming manner? He can't just spring such a question on you without it rubbing you wrong. "Are you cheating on me?" No. That is a recipe for disaster and just asking for unwanted distance. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows it, but that dream... It just seemed so real.

Hey, ma. You awake?

It's two in the morning, and you probably won't answer, but as Toji lies there in his bed, waiting for a response from you, he realizes he can't wait to hear from you, so he does the next best thing—he calls you.

The line rings a couple times, and by the third time, he's ready to end the call before he gets sent to voicemail, deeming his reason for pulling you out of sleep so early in the morning to be ridiculous. It was a dream. You're not cheating on him. You wouldn't do that to him. He knows this, yet, here he is, trying to sleep in your bed with you, like a child who woke up from a nightmare, tiptoeing over to their parents' bedroom.

"Hi, Toji," you answer, your voice quiet and slightly raspy with sleep. "Toji?" You call, again, when you get nothing from him. "Are you okay?"

He feels somewhat embarrassed for having woken you up for this, but if the deed has already been done, then he needs to make the most of it.

"Hey, sweetheart. I'm doing just fine. Everything's fine. Listen, would it be alright if I came over?" He asks, already sitting up and getting out of bed.

"It's a little late, isn't it? It's..." you hum as you quickly check your phone, "...two seventeen," you respond, trying your hardest not to nod off as you lie comfortably on your side, your phone placed between your ear and your pillow, again.

"I know. I'm sorry. You don't have to wait up for me, though. I can let myself in. You gave me your spare, remember?"

You blink, tiredly, and remain silent for a few seconds until Toji calls for you. "Yeah, okay, then. Drive safe. It's raining really hard."

"Will do, mama. I'll see you soon. Love you."

"Love you," you mumble, before hanging up the phone. You went right back to sleep, afterwards. The sound of the rain pouring outside was soothing and the coldness that came with the weather made the perfect contrast to the warmth of the blanket you bundled yourself in.

Toji got to your place twenty-something minutes later. His hoodie was heavily spotted with the raindrops it caught during the walk to your front door from his car. He fishes out his keys from his pocket and looks for a shiny, bronze key on his keyring. Once he has it, getting into your warm home goes smoothly. From taking off his shoes and setting them beside yours, to removing his hoodie so that the wetness doesn't touch you, he moves quickly. He doesn't stray from his path to finding you, not even to grab a snack from your kitchen cabinets like he normally does, no matter the time—he just goes straight to your room.

When he opens the door, Toji is met with nothing more than the adorable sight of you curled up in bed, like a puppy sleeping peacefully under a heap of toasty blankets. He shuts the door behind him, quietly, and moves swiftly, but carefully, so that he doesn't wake you up before he even starts crawling into bed with you. He gently lifts the blanket off the vacant side of your bed, and slides into his place beside you. Instantly greeted by the warmth you generated, he feels the urge to pull you into his arms and just hold you all night.

"Sorry, baby. I know i'm cold," he says, softly, when you stir at the iciness of his fingers dragging up and down the side of your neck.

You blink your heavy eyes open and take in the sight of Toji right in front of you. Him calling you wasn't part of a hyper realistic dream, he's actually in bed with you.

"What's wrong?" You ask, concerned for his reason for wanting to be there in the early hours of the morning, rather than just waiting until later on in the day. You had plans to meet, anyway. What is so important that he couldn't wait until then?

"It's nothing to worry about. Just wanted to be here with you," he responds, not totally lying, but also not telling the whole truth.

"Remember what I told you when we first met?" You mumble, not satisfied with the vagueness of his response. There seems to be more that he isn't telling you.

"You said a lot of things to me that day," he responds, with a low chuckle.

"I did," you agree, smiling softly at the memory. "I also told you something important that day, didn't I?"

You watch the contemplative expression on his face, the outward appearance of his brain whirring. It's cute, even in his handsomeness. "Do you want a hint?" You ask, though when you see his eyes widen a little, you know he won't need it.

"You're better at listening than you are at talking," he recites, with a smirk, like he's patting himself on the back for being able to remember.

"Right. So, if there's something wrong, I want to know about it. I know i'm not the best conversationalist, but you know that I always try for you."

Now that you're more awake, Toji doesn't feel so heartless for handling you like you're merely a teddy bear, so that you're lying on top of him. He wants you close to him all the time, but when you say things like that, he instantly feels the need to bring you closer. It's pure instinct by now.

"You ever get tired of me just scooping you up out of nowhere?" He asks, lips curled in amusement as he watches and feels you wiggling around, trying to make yourself comfortable. Finally, you rest your head on the upper part of his chest and let your arms go limp beside him.

"Never," you respond, simply, smiling when a low chuckle rumbles out of Toji's chest.

His arms tighten around you a little more when the room goes silent, and then he remembers why he's here. He can't lose this. Your warmth, your careful affection, the way you constantly look at him like he's the reason the moon and the stars shine at night. He never wants you to look at him another way. There's absolutely nothing hard about loving you, and if you can't believe it on your own, he'll prove it to you.

"You know how much I love you, don't you, doll?" He asks, his palms finally warm enough to work as heating pads for your back.

"I do," you assure. Maybe this is his concern—that he's not showing you enough love. No, that can't be it. If that was it, he would've waited until later on in the day to see you and talk about it.

"And how much I need you? Do you know that, too?" To that, he doesn't get a response from you. He knows you aren't sleeping, because he can feel your legs shifting against his every once in a while.

"Doll?" He calls.

You let out a soft breath, before responding with your truth.

"I don't know if you need me, Toji. When you tell me you love me, I believe it, because I feel it and I know it, but I don't think you need me."

"Don't..." he sighs, not expecting this as a response from you. "...don't say that. Don't you dare say that. What does that even mean? Because I don't fucking get it. I really don't, ma."

Your heart rate picks up a little, but you try to keep yourself as calm as possible. You understand that this isn't something he wants to hear, as the one who's helped you through so much, but you can't help but share how things feel on your end.

"Don't you ever think about how much better it would be for you to love someone who makes things easier on you rather than overcomplicating them? Someone who tells you what they want straight up, instead of having you basically pry the words from them?"

Toji stays quiet this time, not because he agrees, but because he's figuring out how to say things without it being explosive. He knows that those few seconds of relief will be followed up by a tidal wave of regret. It's not worth it. You're his little sunshine and he would never forgive himself if he was the reason for why your light died out.

"I love you, Toji, but I think about that a lot. I want you to know that if you ever get tired of me-"

"Don't finish that sentence," he cuts. "I don't wanna hear it."

There's no playfulness or warmth to his tone. Nothing but the weight of his words. Your heart feels a little heavier, but you brush it off and utter a phrase that you're all too familiar with.

"Sorry."

You feel nervous, and not in the "good" way. Not in the way that makes your cheeks heat up and your stomach swarm with butterflies, but instead the way that makes your chest feel strange, and like there's a knot forming in your throat.

"I don't wanna hear that either, doll," Toji says in response, his tone softer, now, his thoughts collected. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have talked to you like that. You know I love you." He presses a kiss to the top of your head and rubs the center of your back in soothing motions. The silence that returns makes your heart beat even faster. You wonder if Toji can hear it through the lack of sound in the room.

"I had a really stupid dream," Toji finally confesses, a low, humorless chuckle vibrating against his chest. "I mean, really stupid. Can I tell you about it?"

"You don't have to ask, baby," you respond. Your cheeks go warm at your use of the pet name, but it felt right in the moment. Maybe this is what's been lodged in his mind this whole time. You want him to feel as comfortable as possible as he recounts it to you.

Toji smiles softly at the term of endearment you used for him. Somehow, the way you said the word made it sound softer and even more cushioned than it already is.

His arms readjust around you, tightening the perfect amount so that you're secure against him and he can feel more of your body's warmth on his. He peppers a few more kisses on the top of your head before going on to tell you about his dream.

"So, I kind of just spawned into a room where you and some random guy were sitting on a bench, and he was getting really touchy with you. His hands were rubbing your thighs and your shoulders and..." He pauses. This is his least favorite part. He didn't like any part of it, but this part took the cake, because no one kisses your lips but him.

"It's okay," you say, encouragingly. You rub his side a few times and endure a squeeze of his arms—the equivalence of a rush of emotional support in a gesture.

"Well, you and him started locking lips, and it looked like you were really enjoying it. Your eyes were sparkly and you were smiling at him all pretty." He sighs, bothered anew, the same way he was when he first woke up. "See, I told you it was stupid," he grumbles, mildly embarrassed. "Obviously not stupid enough for me to sleep in my own bed for the night. It's fucking ridiculous. Sorry, doll."

You utter another phrase you're all too familiar with—not one you say often, but one you hear from Toji plenty.

"Don't apologize," you murmur. A few seconds pass, and you know just what to say. "Toji?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

You say it like it's as easy as breathing, because it is. There's nothing hard about loving Toji. He's good to you. It's a love you've never experienced with another, and you do your damn best for him, which is why him showing up at two a.m. isn't a problem. Him crawling into your bed, and reaching for you with hands that are cold as ice isn't a problem. He needs comfort this time, and all you can do is hope that the way you console him is enough.

"Only you, and that's how it'll always be. Your brain thought it would be funny to trick you, but it grayed on the fact that I suck at talking to people."

That made him snicker. It wasn't a reaction meant to ridicule you, rather one of immediate relief, due to the confirmation you gave him about his place as your only love.

"Not that i'm interested in pursuing others, but how am I gonna go for someone else, when I can barely talk to you?"

Now that made him full on chuckle, and you just lay there on him, withstanding the crushing sensation of his arms squeezing you impossibly tighter. You fear he might break you, but you would endure that momentary loss of breath any day if it means his heart remains whole.

"God, I love you so damn much," he murmurs, low against the top of your head. "I love you," he says, pressing yet another affectionate kiss to the area. "And I need you. I want you to understand that by... now. I need you to understand it, right now, baby."

"I don't think that's how it works," you say, humming out a soft laugh.

"Well, we're gonna make it work. Alright? You're gonna understand how much I need you."

"Okay," you say, resigned to his perseverance.

"Okay?" He repeats.

"Yeah," you confirm, lips curling, amusedly.

"Yeah?" He copies once more, knowing it'll grant him one of his favorite little sounds from you.

You giggle. "Yes, Toji."

With that, he's flipping you over, his position expressively dominant, now. It's dark in your room, so you can't really see much, but you can make out most of his handsome features, and you can feel his body heat embracing you, just as much as it did a few seconds ago. His hands are planted right beside your head and he's peering down at you, smirking at the way you look at him, like you haven't caught up with how he handled you so delicately yet efficiently to switch positions.

"You always look so pretty under me," he murmurs, leaning in closer. You in so that you see nothing but him. His hands ball up the sheets beneath them, carelessly wrinkling them as he remains merely inches above you. You slowly release the breath you've been holding in. "You mad at me, baby?"

"No," you answer, trying to remain calm, despite the heat that is beginning to seep into your face. "You've done nothing for me to be mad about, so why would I be mad at you?"

His lips press against the lower part of your cheek—a deep kiss right above your jaw. "'Cause i'm kinda dumb and do shit like this. I woke you up, and now you're losing sleep," he murmurs, against your skin.

"It's okay, Toji," you gently reassure. "I understand and I'm not mad at you." Your hands come up to his back, tentatively, feeling the body warmth that seeps through his shirt.

"No?" He asks, pressing a soft kiss closer to the corner of your lips. "You promise?"

As if trying to further comfort the giant hovering over you, you rub his back in gentle motions.

"There's nothing to be mad about. You've done nothing wrong and you're always welcome here, love." You smile when he continues planting little kisses on your cheek while you keep talking. "You have my spare key, because I trust you and I have nothing to hide from you. If giving you that key means you show up here in the early hours of the morning, because you don't want to be alone, that's okay, too. So, yes, I promise i'm not mad."

A low hum comes from Toji as his kisses inch towards your lips. A few land on the corner of your lips, then he's just a little bit off, and then finally, his lips center on yours. You feel butterflies begin to flutter around your stomach as he collects kiss after kiss from you.

"You tired, pretty baby?" He asks, his voice only audible between you and him. Not even the thin walls of your room can take away the intimacy.

"I wanna be awake with you," you respond, your voice matching the low volume of his.

"You sure?" He asks, and you do your best to convince him that you are. Your hands pull away from where they once rested on his back and you raise them to cup his cheeks with slightly shaky hands. Your touch is gentle, maybe even a little hesitant, as you begin to slowly stroke the softness of his skin. This is one of the very rare times when Toji accepts your actions in place of your words.

Your thumb brushes over the scar on his lips, and before you can even process it, his lips are on yours, again. You can feel the flourishing warmth of his face beneath your palms as he kisses you with an unexpected amount of fervor. You hear soft panting from him, as a result of him hungrily chasing kiss after kiss from you. He challenges your lungs, letting them feel a slight burn when he doesn't pull away after you've reached your limit. It's not until you're breathing heavily that he lets you go, and begins to scatter soft kisses along the side of your neck.

"Baby," he hums against your neck, leaving another kiss behind. "My sweet, pretty baby. How do you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, smiling as he continues to let his lips feed off the warmth and softness of your skin.

"How do always manage to keep things so peaceful?" He responds. His heart beats slightly faster when you release a precious laugh at the question. "Things are just... so damn simple with you," he says, softly, as he goes lower down your body. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and begin to slowly roll it above your stomach. He instantly takes note of the goosebumps that rise when his palms graze your bare skin.

"I know how much you try for me, and fuck, i'm not dismissing your effort, but I also want you to understand that it's not hard to treat you right." His hands grip your waist, loosely, and he leans in to place a kiss on your stomach.

"There's nothing hard about being with you..." he murmurs beneath your ribs, "...and waiting for you. You aren't difficult like you think you are, sweet girl."

"You promise, Toji?" You ask, glancing down at him as he continues leaving kisses on your skin.

"I promise," he assures, meeting your gaze as he presses another kiss right beneath your chest. "You want me to stop?" He asks, aware of the lack of coverage for your chest under your shirt.

"You can keep going," you respond, willing yourself to relax under his touch. He doesn't waste any time, and immediately buries his face in your bare chest. For a moment, there's no major movement coming from him, just his breathing. You think maybe he's just savoring the warmth that you've accumulated after spending hours under your blanket, but he full on melts into your body. His arms go beneath you, allowing him to wrap around you tightly once more, and he releases an audibly heavy sigh.

"It's okay," you say, softly. You keep one hand on his upper back, while the other gently plays with his hair.

He's not sure if he deserves the tenderness your touch holds for him. He tries to be as gentle and careful with you as he can, but he's so scared that one day you'll shatter and it'll be his fault. You'll walk away from him with no intention of ever coming back and something that was so good to him will be gone. You deserve to be happy—always. He knows this, but he doesn't want to picture somebody else making you happy like he does. He can't accept that. You're his girl.

"Toji?" You call. You know your little place isn't the most high end of them all, but you also know that it's not falling apart. There's no way for the rain to reach your skin if there's no hole in your roof.

"Toji?" You call once more when he doesn't answer. Your hands still on him when you feel his shoulders stutter. You have your own glum cloud resting on top of you. You feel something wet land on your chest—it's starting to rain a little.

"It's okay," you whisper, resuming the gentle motions on his back and the back of his head. "It's okay." You feel him begin to leave languid, spaced out, featherlight kisses on your chest, and you want to freeze. You want to express how impactful the gestures are, and how they animate the butterflies that reside in your stomach, but you can't. You can't and you won't do it, because it's your turn to prove that you'll take care of him when he's not at one hundred percent.

"It's... it's gonna be okay. I have you," you assure, feeling the softness of his hair between your fingers as you repeatedly thread them through, and the movement of his back beneath your other hand as he breathes. "And you will always have me, and I love you with all my heart, Toji. I need you to understand that, right now," you tease, lightheartedly, echoing his earlier words back to him in an attempt to make him feel better. You hear a congested sound, something between a laugh and a hitch in his breathing.

Not another sound is made for the next few minutes, no words spoken. Your skin catches a few more of Toji's tears as he continues to brush his lips against the entirety of your chest, reveling in the warmth of your skin. Toji can hear your heart beating rapidly in your chest—the way it always is whenever he's around you. Normally, he teases you about it. 'Your heart's gonna explode if you don't calm down.' 'We don't even have to do cardio to get your heart going.' Sometimes, he just holds his fingers against the pulse point on your neck and laughs at the rapid thrumming against his fingertips. He finds it endearing, but right now, it's a comfort.

You don't mind the occasional slight pinch of his lips—the more physical proof of his appreciative affection. You simply remain focused on soothing him and reassuring him of how strong your love for him is and will always be.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, ma," he mumbles, his cheek resting on your chest. He could fall asleep so easily to the sound of your heartbeat in his ears, the feeling of you playing with his hair, and the way you slowly rub his back, but he's torn between staying where he is and coming back up to hold you close through the rest of the early morning.

"I promise I'm not going anywhere," you assure, wholeheartedly.

With that response, Toji makes his choice. He pulls his arms out from beneath you and sits on his knees, between your legs for the quick second it takes him to fix your shirt. After, he lifts the blanket and reclaims his rightful spot beside you.

"Come here," he murmurs, pulling you into his arms without an ounce of struggle. He waits for you to settle, back against his chest, before fully enveloping you in his warm embrace.

"It sounds like pebbles hitting the roof instead of raindrops."

"Mhm," he hums, into your neck, letting his hand slide beneath the front of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your abdomen. "If your roof starts leaking, you're coming to stay with me." It's not a question or an offer.

You laugh. "The rain isn't that bad."

"Mm..." His lips home to your shoulder, a gentle peck placed on the concealed area. "Love seeing your pretty face first thing in the morning. You stay with me if your ceiling ever caves. Okay? Okay."

"Okay," you respond, through a giggle. "You'll be my first call."

"Good," he murmurs.

"I'll make you breakfast later, when we wake up."

And though Toji responds with, "Sounds good, ma," all he can think about is how you're going to struggle so hard to get out of bed because he's going to make it nearly impossible for you to do so. The gears are already turning in his head. He'll pin you down, he'll strengthen his hold around you, he'll roll on top of you "in his sleep". You're too polite for your own good, you most likely won't try to wake him up. He'll swaddle you in the blanket, he'll tie your shirts together in a tight knot-

"Goodnight, Toji," you mumble, feeling your tiredness return as he continues drawing little lines and shapes on your stomach.

"'Night, baby," he murmurs, feeling much more content and at peace with the idea of sleeping knowing that you're in his arms, not in anyone else's.

[gyuhanniesworld]

but i like your brother, too (kmg x oc x csc) 🔞

"babe, can you bring this to our new neighbours? heard they moved all the way from korea," your mom distracted you from your reading as she placed a big bowl full of her famous cookies.

you reached for a cookie as she turned around and when it almost landed on your lips, she paused and said "don't get any, okay? you don't want any unwanted calories, right?" you sighed as you placed the delicious cookie back. you rolled your eyes as you stood up, bringing the bowl with you as you made your way towards the front door.

you cursed your dad's genes for your overthinking tendencies. well, it has been a while as you indulged on some sweet snacks as your mom made it quite clear that you gain weight quicker than most people (which is not really true). you swallowed the lump in your throat as you neared your neighbour's walkway.

you saw multiple men take things from the big truck towards the house and as you followed one of them towards the stairs, you were shocked by the shirtless man getting out of the front door. he had a towel around his neck and was clearly going back to the truck to help out some more. his steps stopped in front of you and you were more shocked as he smiled at you.

"hi, there! didn't know we had a pretty neighbor." he cheekily stated as he wiped the sweat on his forehead. since you had a clearer and more close-up look on your new neighbour, you could say that he was around your age or somewhat older by a few years. he was really tall and had a good built, a great and hard one-

"shamelessly checking out each other on the first day? you're starting to surprise me, bunny." he chuckled and took a few steps towards you.

you cocked an eyebrow. "bunny huh?" you teased as you stretched your arm to give him the cookies. he never broke eye contact as he took the cookies and took a bite of one. he shamelessly groaned and closed his eyes as he devoured each one.

"skipping 1st and 2nd base, i see and i still don't know your name," you chuckled as he continued inhaling the cookies. a shorter but still big man made an appearance as he was clad in a tank top and cargo shorts. holy shit, is this a frat house or something?

"mingyu, i need a hand on that dresser for dad's room." he stated as he stopped beside who i'm guessing is mingyu.

you smiled and stuck your hand for him to shake, "hi! my name's dakota and i live right across the street." and as you looked at the guy, god must really love their family because look at those genes.

"my name's seungcheol but you could just call me cheol," he cheekily said and a cute dimple popped out. "i see you've met my brother, mingyu" he stated and took a cookie for himself. as you looked at the brothers, you knew your break was going to be amazing.

you bit back a moan as mingyu's tongue made love to your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you. after just a week of 'talking', you found yourself sprawled on the youngest choi's bed.

you fisted his hair as he groaned on your pussy, leaving open mouth kisses on your opening. he gripped on your hips as he grounded his face on you. you were getting restless as one of his hands made its way to your mounds, teasing the nipple.

"gyu, fuck. i'm almost there." you whined as he continued eating you out. with the few times you've messed around, you discovered how much of a giver the guy was. he enjoyed eating you out and you could feel that he was getting off of it. he would make you cum on his mouth multiple times before fucking you for hours.

"you love my mouth on your pretty pussy, don't you, bunny?" he asked as made eye contact. you moaned lightly as he teased your clit with small kitty licks, knowing how sensitive you were from making you cum twice already. you chewed on your bottom lip as he continued his assault on your cunt.

"would you like me to destroy this tight pussy? make everyone in the house hear you be a whore for me?" he hummed as he kissed up towards your boobs. he stopped right in front of the unattended one and enveloped his mouth around the sensitive nipple. you threw your head back and accidentally released a loader moan. you furrowed your eyebrows at him and he gave you a cheeky grin, still slightly bitting on the sensitive skin. he knew your nipples were really sensitive and he just had to bite down on it.

you shook your head and rested your head on his pillows with your arms over your head, enjoying everything mingyu was giving.

out of the corner of your eye, you saw a small movement on mingyu's slightly ajar door. you smirked and sighed loudly, slightly exaggerating some of your reactions.

"come on, daddy. destroy me with that big cock of yours." you made your voice slightly louder as the tanned man's mouth made its way towards your lips. "you're really vocal these days, huh, bunny?" he smirked as he envelopes your mouth for another kiss.

you opened your eyes a little as you checked on the shadow moving outside gyu's door. you moaned as you felt mingyu's big cock making its way to your folds, gathering enough of your slick before he slowly entered you. mingyu kissed the side of your head towards your neck, licking and sucking as you took your time adjusting to his size.

"you're so perfect for me, baby. look at that pussy squeezing my cock in. fuck, how are you still so tight, huh?" he grunted as he slowly moved. it felt like being split open and it felt pretty damn good. you admired mingyu's beautiful body and couldn't resist sucking on the nipple right in front you. he moaned as his movements started picking up pace.

"such a slut, couldn't shut you up without suckin' on something, huh?" he asked as his hips snapped, sounds of skin slapping bouncing off the walls. you nodded as you looked up at him.

"fuck, i'm almost there." he whispered as he took out his dick out, leaving me whining before flipping me to my stomach. he got a pillow and placed it just above my pelvis before entering me again. as he thrusted in, he was hitting deeper spots.

"you just love being played with, don't you baby?" he asked as his cock hit that spot that made your head spin. you climax was coming and so was mingyu as you felt his thrust become more brutal. you were going to have a hard time walking tomorrow, for sure.

"daddy! i'm gonna cum! fuck! fuck! ahh that's it. fuck, come in me, please" you muttered as you felt yourself break. mingyu's movements stilled as he grunted, feeling ropes of white painting your walls and filling you up. you breathed deeply and checked on your voyeur, strong hands out and pumping his thick rod. you could clearly see him finishing, as well. you smirked lightly as he quickly got out of your sight.

your attention was pulled out as mingyu placed a hand on your face and asked "you okay, baby?". you smiled gently and pulled his face in, kissing him. "you want to cockwarm me, bunny?" he chuckled as you refused to remove your legs from his waist.

"yeah, i kinda like this." you joked as you pulled him in for a hug. thoughts going back to how seungcheol jacked off to his brother blowing your back.

soooo that's part 1! lets see how long its gonna take for me to write part 2 (probably 2 hours but i'd probably let it sit in my drafts for months after rereading it 😭)

[ssahotchnerr]

okay so, I really don't like angst so I'll go with jealous!Hotch 🤭

Something like when Reader is at Jack's soccer game and Idk, a dad flirts with her? But when Jack sees that she's talking with someone who isn't Hotch, he calls her "mom" in front of the dad who's flirting with her, (bc he's jealous too 🤭) but Hotch hears him and he's kind of moved, but someone is flirting with his girl so he gets all jealous and starts like kissing her or something in front of the man? And the night they end up at his home, with Hotch showing her that she belongs to him 🤭

(feel free to change anything, don't worry, also, sorry for my bad english, it's not my first language 😭)

keeping score

🤭 minors dni cw; fem!reader, jack calls reader mom, unwanted advances, suggestiveness, allusions to sex, small praise, dominant!jealous!possessive aaron 🦋 wc; 1.5k

early saturday mornings - grass still slightly wet from the dew, the sun slowly rising higher into the sky (threatening a hot day), sat alongside a soccer field - you couldn't imagine another place you'd rather be.

as aaron was the coach, you spent majority of jack's game sitting alone. it was a small price to pay; you were more than happy to cheer on jack from the sidelines, and to check aaron out as much as you wanted.

but most importantly, attending his games made you feel like you were a part of the family. the hotchners were closed off and let very few people in, and so your attendance here only solidified your role in both their lives. that aaron planned on keeping you around, and that jack trusted you. your role in his life wasn't to someday replace his mom, but rather you were just another person who simply loved him. you loved him like he was your own, and he knew it.

"mornin'," a voice pulled you from your thoughts; a familiar face amongst the other parents on the team, but you didn't know him by name.

you offered a quick, friendly smile, "good morning."

he set up camp near you, setting his foldable chair down and getting settled a few feet away. you paid him no mind, resuming your attention to something more worthy of your focus, such as how attractive aaron looked in the jeans he was wearing. and the game, obviously.

however, you could feel him peering at you from time to time, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

ten minutes or so passed before he spoke again, "so, big soccer fan?"

your eyes followed jack, who was dribbling the soccer ball down the field. your heart swelled with pride as he successfully kicked it to a teammate, "not until recently."

"me too." he offered you a look that he probably thought was slick, while you kept your gaze straight forward. "i'm always looking to score, if you know what i mean."

his words instantly caused your cheeks to burn, along with your whole body. it was clear he was objectifying you, with no good intentions in mind.

you didn't bother replying. hopefully, that would be a clear indicator for him to leave, or to leave you alone.

but he still chose to linger. and while he wasn't speaking, in your peripheral you kept noticing his head turn, gazing in your direction. his eyes were nearly burning a hole into you.

"shit." he swore as he suddenly stood up, picking up and moving his chair even closer to yours, "the grass is eating away at my chair. must've been that damn rain last night."

it hadn't rained last night.

the unsettling feeling he was causing you only grew, but again you didn't dare to say anything. the uncomfortableness only eased when the whistle finally blew, signaling halftime. this meant a water break and a small snack for the kids, and it meant aaron and jack would soon be joining you for a moment.

as expected, jack hurried towards you as soon as one of the other moms distributed him his snack, but paused abruptly as he reached you, his eyes scanning between you and the man. a confused expression filled his face, his bottom lip sticking out into a pout. it was the same one he produced whenever aaron gave him the fifteen minute warning for bedtime.

"mom," jack inserted himself in between the two of you, a small package of fruit snacks in hand, "can you open these for me?"

you froze for a spilt second, touched and surprised. you've been a constant in both aaron and jack's lives for almost a year now. but that title, was a first.

"of course sweet pea," you coughed a bit to clear your throat, and to stop the tears from surfacing, opening it for him.

"you did good out there kiddo," the dad spoke again, flashing a smile.

your fists clenched at that one - you knew he was trying to impress you, and you hated how he had decided to use interacting with jack to his advantage.

just wait until you find how he's the coach's son.

while you were furious, jack ever so slightly rolled his eyes, such an annoyed expression almost humorous for a child his age, choosing to focus on his snack and leaning comfortably against your shoulder.

and a minute or two later, aaron joined.

as aaron approached, his face nearly pulled into the same expression as his son's as he analyzed the visual in front of him. only his was accompanied with a more hardened, possessive aggressiveness.

"hi sweetheart," aaron greeted you, leaning in to kiss you once you were on your feet. it wasn't a chaste peck either, but rather more showy. his fingers grasped onto the waistline of your pants, pulling you flush to him. "enjoying the game?"

you nodded, still recovering from the unexpected heated kiss, looking down at jack who also was glued to your side, offering protection of his very own. you gave him a smile, ruffling his hair gently, "i think we've got a soccer star on our hands."

"speaking of," aaron started, straightening his torso and squaring his shoulders, making him appear taller. "jack, why don't you join the others. they're taking turns aiming at the goal before the game resumes."

with a nod, and after handing you the empty wrapper, jack ran off to his teammates. aaron was still holding his menacing glare, but dropped the entire expression suddenly.

"how are you feeling?"

"feeling...?" your eyebrows quirked in confusion.

"you're not too sore today, aren't you?" his eyes darted behind you, a rather confident, fiery glint within them. "i wasn't holding back last night, was i?"

oh.

"and now that i'm thinking about it, i don't think you've ever been that loud either."

aaron had always been a stickler for pda; any displays were kept to quick kisses, hand holding, and any suggestive comments were kept to a murmur, meant for you and you only. even when you tagged along with him to bau outings, such as a bar on a saturday night, he held back. anything more was private, and aaron preferred it that way - him being the only one to witness you in such a vulnerable state, was something he took gratification in, and only added to his overall pleasure.

so this, was something else. he wasn't speaking loud enough for all to hear, just enough for the man in question. your back was towards him, so you had no idea how he was reacting to aaron's words.

"i'm fine." you managed, your body also reacting immediately.

aaron's lips found home behind your ear, again conscience of his volume - just loud enough. "good, because i'm not done with you yet."

aaron's hand slid up to the small of your back, but not without stopping on the curve of your ass first - again he wasn't subtle about it, making sure it was noticeable.

and it had to be working, for the man hadn't uttered a single word.

"and actually, sweetheart." another glare pointed behind you. "would you mind helping me at the bench for the rest of the game? i could use an extra set of hands."

"of course." you blurted out, complying without a second thought.

"good girl," he was heavy on the emphasis, patting your hip affectionately. "c'mon."

you were visually flustered as you leaned down to gather your belongings, especially when aaron's hand rested on the small of your back as you did so. your eyes lifted to the man, who was avoiding all eye contact, staring off into the field with a flushed face.

once you straightened up aaron took your hand, leading you away.

"thank you." you mumbled as your hand slid up his arm, giving his bicep a squeeze.

aaron's jaw clenched. "i fucking hated the way he was looking at you."

"you wouldn't like what he was saying either." you mumbled, causing aaron's nostrils to flare in anger. but to calm him, you changed the subject, heat filling your cheeks again, "and you."

a pleased, closed lip smile graced his face. "what about me?"

"what was all that?" you teased, stomach fluttering. you already knew the answer, but it was something you wanted to hear from him again. "i've never heard you, so..."

he chuckled softly, an almost embarrassing undertone to his words. "vocal?"

"yeah." you blurted out, blinking. "it was hot."

aaron shrugged, satisfied but still agitated. "he was devouring you, practically undressing you with his eyes."

"well, i don't think he'll be trying anything again."

"i know he won't," aaron's eyes darkened as his overly confident demeanor resurfaced, his lips pulling into a smirk as one of his fingers tapped your neck, "especially when he sees you next week. because you won't be covering up those marks."

[demonic0angel]

anger management meet cute:

"Would mind doing me a favor. I'm having the worst blind date. Could you help me end it by pretending to be my obsessive, crazy ex and scaring them off?"

Jason stared at the beautiful girl in front of him. She looked at him earnestly, quickly glancing backwards at the bathroom, presumably where her date had gone, leaving her alone at the dinner table.

He blinked. “How’re you not sure that he just ran off while in the bathroom?”

She cringed, with a small shiver of disgust. “I think he wants to bring me home first.”

Jason also cringed. Damn. He gave a sigh and then nodded. “Alright, I’ll step out of the place and when I see him coming back, I’ll come in and drive him off, okay?”

She beamed, a sigh of relief leaving her as she took his hand and squeezed it. “Thank you. I know we’ve never met before, but I appreciate you doing this for me.” Her smile was small, but genuine and breathtakingly beautiful. Her hand was cool in his, but he could only feel the heat spreading through him as he flushed. (Honestly, whoever that stupid fuck was who disrespected her deserved to die.)

“Uh. No problem. My name’s Jason.”

“Jazz,” she said with a beam. With that, he quickly exited the cafe, rubbing his chest where his heart was doing backflips and somersaults. This was like something straight out of a novel and his face felt hot. Still, he quickly calmed himself down and tried to pretend like it was a mission. He took glimpses every once in a while into the window, watching Jazz fidget and look nervous until he spotted a man leaving the bathroom area and approach her, sitting down at the table with a swagger.

He said something that Jazz seemed to laugh nervously at, and then he reached over to touch her hair.

Yep. Showtime.

Jason slammed the door open and burst into hysterical laughter.

“Hah! I fucking knew it! I knew you were with some worthless bastard!”

Jazz and her unwanted date jumped. “J-Jason!” She said, though her tone was a little too relieved. (She was too cute.) Thankfully, her date didn’t notice.

“W-What the—?!”

Jason unsheathed his gun with a furious smile. “Didn’t I tell you, Princess? I told you that if you tried to leave me, I’ll kill whoever looks at you and then I’ll kill you too.”

Jazz pursed her lips, but didn’t look scared. Jason catalogued that reaction and focused on what she was saying.

“Jason! Please— he’s not part of this. You don’t want to go back to jail, remember?”

“Who said I’m going back to jail?” Jason said, approaching the table while keeping the gun pointed towards her date. Everyone else scrambled away with some panic, but everyone knew that Gothamites were crazy when in love, so they just watched warily. “We’re dying together, gorgeous. ‘Til death do us part, right? After killing this bastard, you and I are going to hell together, Princess.”

Jazz then blushed and then looked at her date, mouthing, “Leave.” Then she turned to Jason and said in a soothing tone, “I’m sorry, Jay, I just… uh, I just wanted to test something out. I’m still with you, dearest. Just let him leave, okay? He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, cocking his gun. “Tch. Fine. He better be gone in 3… 2…”

The man quickly scrambled away. Jason watched him run out of the cafe screaming like a little bitch, before he pocketed his gun and then sat down in the empty seat across from Jazz. He waved a waiter, who nearly bolted over to their table to get his order.

Jazz blinked. “You’re staying?”

“Of course, Princess,” he smirked at the way she ducked her head down with a heavy blush. “‘Til death do us part. I’ll pay for dinner this time.”

Everyone stared at Jazz with horror and bewilderment, but she just giggled and said, “Thank you, Jason. I’d really like that.”

[fernslivers]

The Marriage Game

As the only child born to your parents, a girl, you were raised as a boy to ensure your parents could pass on their wealth–and so far, the ruse has held. There's one little snag though… you need a wife. Lucky for you, your parents seem to have found the perfect match, the unwanted former wife of a disgraced samurai.

~~

A/N: AHHH, whew! I hope you like this, anon!! It's going to feature a slightly sweeter Mizu, since I'm trying to write her as she was in the flashback. I figured since that bad moment with the betrayal didn't happen, she would be more guarded but not AS broken and jaded as in canon. I hope it translates correctly and not too OOC. It got a little more spiced than anything I've written so far! I know that wasn't included in the ask so I hope that's okay! :,) [Not beta'd so apologies for any errors in spelling!]

Reader is wlw!

TW: Spice, loss of virginity, unpleasant parents all around, internalized self-hate, gratuitous mentions of M*kio being a dick

-----

“It's not going to work–she's not going to want me,” you mumble to your mother as you wait for your new bride to arrive. She hushes you.

You subside obediently, but your doubts persist. Your family might have money, plenty of it, but that hasn't stopped several fathers from looking down their noses at you as a husband. Uncommonly delicate for a man, one has said. Too short, snorted another. And the daughters, while they kept their gazes lowered demurely as they'd been taught, had let you know with one glance that they agreed with their parents’ disdain.

You hadn't wanted them anyway, no more than you wanted a man. There was something missing from them, something blank in their yielding sweetness that did not appeal to you. Is there something broken in you?

–

“This one will be different,” your mother had insisted, when she first brought home the news. “She's already been sent home by one husband for being unfit–too ugly, I heard. But strong. She'll be in no position to complain about your looks, and she'll be able to handle the chores you can't.”

You had flushed, stung by the implied insult. All you've ever really wanted to do was express yourself through art–lingering in front of painters’ displays, tracing your fingers over the wares at a pottery booth. Or perhaps to be let alone with your animals, which never wanted you to be anything but yourself. Both choices were actively discouraged in favor of menial chores that added muscle to your limbs and calluses to your hands. But nothing your parents did could make your frame taller, or your features less feminine.

–

Now, as you give her a reproachful glance, she sighs.

“Oh, don't look like that,” she waves your feelings away, as usual. “Besides, she can't refuse you. Her mother has already agreed on her behalf–this isn't a prospective meeting, it's a wedding. Your wedding. Be glad!”

Even still, that might be worse. Gods above, how humiliating would it be for your bride to walk away from the very wedding itself?

You're not even sure what your parents expect to happen here. Yes, in theory, they have a son to inherit their wealth and status.

Then what?

Again, it wasn't that you wanted a man. To be sure, your budding orientation had been a fortuitous development for your parents. But most brides are expecting you to be something that you are not. You certainly don't have the necessary parts to give your new bride an heir to follow you, and carry on the family name. Are they already assuming she'll grow dismissive of you, and take a lover to put a child in the cradle?

Probably, you think grimly. Why would they care about your feelings on the matter? They know you're too gentle to be angry with her, and they'll be happy to know there's a continuation of their name. After all, they sacrificed your happiness just to keep their wealth in the family.

There’s some commotion outside, and your stomach lurches. She's here.

You follow your parents outside, telling yourself not to trail meekly behind like a daughter; you're a son. You have to be strong, confident. Assertive. Yeah, right. Framed between them on the porch, you know you cut a small, unimposing figure, one arm nervously rubbing the other.

Two women are climbing out of the litter that's touching down in the front yard. One, the shorter one, steps forward, as the other hangs back. You hang back also, staying up on the porch, where maybe you'll look taller.

Between you and the other woman, the older folks all congregate, loudly greeting each other with exaggerated politeness and cheer. They’re happy, chatty–proud of themselves for making a deal that each person thinks benefits them the most.

Above their heads, you and your new bride lock eyes.

Oh.

You are so far out of your depths.

Strong doesn't begin to cover the aura of the woman you're set to marry. All the confidence you’re pretending to have, she truly owns, carried as lightly as a cloak around her shoulders, moving with an easy grace and smooth bearing that you could never hope to manage. Even from a distance, you can tell she's got to be at least a half a head taller than you.

At least in expression, you can tell she isn't much more confident than you are. Her eyes travel from your nervous shifting to the softness in your features, to the large amount of space between the top of your head and the doorframe above you. You both have the same trepidatious look, watching each other with the mutual wariness of cats meeting for the first time.

Your mother was wrong about the other thing, though. She certainly is strong, but she is far from ugly. You can feel your breath catch as those startling eyes meet yours… and then your heart sinks as her mouth tightens, and she looks away. Disappointed by you, no doubt. It seems impossible that she could expect you to dislike her. Something inside you folds up in defeat.

This is going to be a disaster.

—

Once again, Mizu finds herself in the position of lying silently, waiting for a husband to arrive to claim his bride. This time, she feels no fear of ravishment; she knows what to expect, physically…and unlike Mikio, you were far from gruff during the ceremony and the dinner afterwards. You had carefully offered her the choicest bits of food, asked respectfully about her interests and her travels to come here. Indeed, you were shockingly kind, compared to her last experience.

In some ways, that makes this wait worse. She expected rejection already, and from you, it seems even more likely than before–and she doesn't want it. Mizu doesn't find you undesirable, not by a long shot. But next to you, she feels even less ladylike than she had with Mikio. You are the prettiest, most delicate man she's ever seen, you look like she could snap you in half one-handed. Not the kind of man that's going to go for someone like her.

No. She fears this time that her previous husband was right to call her unlovable. That you won't want her. The thought of having to go through all of this drama to be rejected again fills her with a deep depression. She recalls with horrible clarity the way Mikio had stared at her coldly when she greeted him in her bridal attire, barely bothering to form the words get out. If Mikio had been horrified by her, how much more so will you be? You're no tough old samurai.

She would love to be able to live happily with a husband as pretty and kind as you, even if it meant giving up on her demon’s path. But to do that, she'll never be able to connect with you.

She'll have to forever guard her true self or run the risk of being sent away yet again. Or worse, she wonders if unlike Mikio, you can't choose for yourself; she saw how your parents stomped all over you during dinner. What if they won't allow you to refuse? If you can't send her away, then you might hate her, leaving you both trapped.

She had argued and fought this marriage for so long; only the heavy guilt trip from her mother brought her here. Her mother… the only person ever to accept her besides Eiji; even with the woman's habits and guilting, Mizu finds it impossible to simply leave her uncared for. It’s her duty; something she would never shirk, even if it hurts.

But what about you? She knows from her mother’s long haggling that you've struggled nearly as much as she has in finding a spouse (though, seeing you, she can't understand why), so perhaps you feel as strong-armed into this marriage as she does. Do you resent being shackled to her by a pair of pushy mothers?

She searches every hint of your behavior today in her memory, looking for some clarity on your opinion. Unlike Mikio, you had made no comments on her appearance, but she could feel your eyes lingering shyly on her when she wasn't looking your way. Were you staring out of interest, or distaste?

The door slides open behind her. Mizu squeezes her eyes shut, biting her lip in prayer even though she feels foolish. She'll never be able to admit to herself how much it means to her that someone out there might want her. You were kind at dinner, that must mean something; please reach for her, please show interest, please let it work out this time…

Your footsteps, her new husband’s footsteps, hesitate, standing a few feet back, as though watching her. Then, with a pit of dread opening in her stomach, she hears the steps turn away, and the shuffling of another mat being set out. Her breath hitches in pain, before anger sets in.

No. Not this time. She can't do this again.

She's not going to lay in the dark like a heartsick girl because a pretty man didn't reach for her in the dark. She wants it laid out here and now. She won't deny her ember for another loveless marriage. Not even for mama.

She rolls over abruptly, brow already furrowed.

You freeze in the middle of laying out the blanket, the whites of your eyes glinting as they widen in the dark. Your heart thumps to see the scowl on your new wife's face when she pushes herself up on one elbow to look at you. You had assumed she would not want your attentions, and would pretend to be asleep to avoid them, so you wanted to accommodate her–not as though you could ever lie with her anyway, not in the way you think she's expecting.

“S-sorry, did I wake y–”

“Am I unappealing to you?”

Her voice is different, somehow, low and raspy–nothing like the softer feminine tones she'd tried to use during the day.

Oh no. You stammer for a moment, frozen, unsure what to say, even as you feel a strange flutter in your lower belly. No. Definitely not… unappealing.

“I…I…What?”

Your eyes dart away from hers; do you dare to turn away and ignore her? Instinctively, you know better than to try and command her to hush, whether you're the “man” or not. The very air of the room tells you that you're not in charge, here.

Mizu sits up, still frowning, as dogged in her pursuit of the topic as she is with every other goal.

“It's our wedding night. Why do you want to sleep over there?” She tells herself she's not afraid of failure or rejection anymore; she already believes herself unlovable. But she's bracing for the words all the same. She wants you to say it, admit it, so she can feel justified in abandoning this duty to pursue her revenge. Tell me, she thinks, her eyes boring into you piercingly. Tell me the truth so I can be set free.

For a moment, there's silence, as you meet her gaze, looking stricken. She thinks–at first–that it’s because you're too kind to want to hurt her with the truth.

Internally, you're panicking. What if the truth makes her leave, and your parents turn on you for ruining this? What if she tells her mother, who spreads it across the region via gossip? What if she simply pounds you into a pulp for deceiving her? You saw her lean, muscled arms as she carried in her luggage–she's more than capable.

You’re about to invent some excuse, some lie to buy yourself another night, when you see the barest hint of a flicker in her eyes. Old pain, buried beneath anger and bold demand. What did her last husband say to her, you wonder. You know the humiliation you felt when the word spread that multiple fathers called you undesirable for their daughters. Did she hear the similar rumors that she was somehow undesirable? You feel suddenly sorry for her, stuck with you– a husband that can't give her what a husband should.

At least you can give her the truth.

You look away, sucking in a deep breath.

“I can't… be a husband to you.” Your voice is hushed, the tone cracking at the edges. She takes it exactly the wrong way.

“Because I am ugly to you.” She says flatly, fighting to conceal the sting of hearing her fears confirmed, but then your head snaps around to meet her gaze. So she has heard the rumors, you think.

You have no idea how often she has.

“No!” You exclaim, and the earnestness in your voice disarms her, makes her believe that you mean it even when it seems impossible. “No. You're… you're not at all… you're very–…any man should be proud to have you as a wife.” Your words are a shock, making her heart speed up rapidly as you stammer. Even in the dark, she can tell that you've started to blush, and the ice building in her chest cracks ever so slightly as her own face warms. She can't meet your eyes, suddenly…but then, you’re looking away, too.

“Don't lie.” But her voice wavers uncertainly. She recalls Mikio’s revulsion, his utter refusal to ever look at her again. You're only saying that because you haven't seen the real her, yet.

You shake your head, hands trembling. She deserves to know the truth. But the confession sticks in your throat.

“You deserve better than this,” you mutter, sinking down on your sleeping mat criss-cross, putting your head in your hands. The strangeness of that response gets her attention again.

Mizu stares at you, confused. She deserves-...? She feels suddenly cold as the thought strikes her that you could be feeling an attack of a guilty conscience. Is this all a setup? Were you going to turn her in, but now you feel badly? Was this all a trap?

You’re looking down between your fingers, so a tiny rustle is all the warning you get. You yelp aloud when a sudden weight tackles you to the mat, and she claps a hand over your mouth to silence the noise, both of your other wrists grasped easily in her other hand. Pinned, you’re left staring up at Mizu’s abruptly fierce expression in shock. Despite your alarm, there's a sudden, illogical stab of something squirmy in your lower belly. Her eyes catch the moonlight through the paper windows, gleaming like clear ice in the dark, all shadows and pale blue. This-... this is what was missing from those other girls, you realize, even if you can't parse exactly what this is. She really is something amazing…you can feel your breath catch in your throat, a sudden twinge of mingled regret and desire choking you. If only you could be what a wife would want… you would be hers in truth if you could.

If she isn't about to kill you.

“Who did you tell that I'm here?” She demands, releasing your mouth to let you answer, ignoring her own mixed feelings at the way she can still feel the imprint of your mouth on her palm. Lying below her, your eyes wide and your hair spread across the pillow, you really are lovely. Almost feminine, with your delicate features and full lips. She feels an instant throb of desire, something that had never come on so suddenly or so fiercely in her last marriage. Damn it, she could have been so happy to be married to someone that looked like you. Why does she have to be who she is?

“What do you mean? Why would that matter?” you stammer, confusion dancing in the wide dark pools of your eyes. You've no idea she's got a bounty–you’re sheltered, your parents are wealthy, and don't concern themselves with tracking criminals.

There's something in your genuinely perplexed tone that makes her believe you. You're no fighter, no warrior, only something soft. She knows she would recognize a lie.

As her anger fades, she looks again from your eyes to the wrists that her fingers are wrapped around. Belatedly, with her heart seizing, she realizes that she's done it again.

Attacked her husband, frightened him. Her hands release their grip as she sits back.

Her eyes are stricken, wide with the remembered fallout; the harsh words, the silent packing up, mama’s unforgiving blame. Her heart begins to pound fast once more, certain she's ruined everything. Again.

You sit up, slowly. Seeing her wide eyes, a flicker of fear is building in your chest, too, for a different reason. Her distress seems almost like shock to you, as though she's seen something… You don't bind at night, did she see–...?

Fearfully, you tug the collar of your sleepwear more tightly together.

Mizu recognizes the motion instantly; recalls her own compulsive tugging… and why. Something clicks, cutting through her panic and steadying her. A suspicion, tiny but impossible to ignore, as she watches you look away, your face tight. Your soft-featured face, with that smooth, delicate throat–

It's not possible. The coincidence would be too…

Her expression shifts from guilt and horror to sudden focus. Again, she shoots out a hand, covering yours against your collar, gripping it tightly. You look up, prey-animal fear in your eyes.

“Don't…lie,” she says again, more softly, and the blue searches over your face like an illuminating shaft of moonlight. Your own eyes are luminous in the dim room, wet enough to reflecting the low light, even if men aren't meant to cry.

But… you aren't that, are you–and now she knows it.

—

You explain it all slowly, with your knees pulled to your chest. An instinctive shield.

“My parents… tried very hard to have a son to carry on the family line,” you whisper at the end. “But… after me…something had gone wrong. My birth made it so that there were no more babies. They only had me.” You hang your head, and Mizu recognizes her own guilt, that of a gaslit child, in your face. It stuns her, to see it in another, clarifying her own mother’s actions with sudden horror. She doesn't resent the freedom she's gained to seek her revenge, but in you, she sees that the disguise only came with more shackles. “So because it was my fault… they felt I had to make up for it.”

Anger curdles in her chest.

“It was the gods’ decision if it was anyone’s,” she says fiercely. “Not yours. You were a child.”

You look up at her, hope and hesitance warring on your face. In the silence, an owl cries outside, the haunting call drifting in through the open window. She stops, shocked by the impact of her own words on herself, hearing them said aloud in her own voice. It wasn't your fault. How long has she waited, without realizing, to hear someone say that to her?

“How do you know?” You ask, your smile growing crooked.

Mizu’s hands clench into fists in her lap. Only moments ago, she had felt certain to find herself rejected yet again, certain she would be slipping away before morning, finally feeling freed of obligation, having truly seen the proof that she could never live a normal life.

Now conflict dogs her conscience.

You see the consternation in her eyes, and though you could never know the reason, you rightly assume the situation is causing her some mixed feelings.

Hesitantly, you reach out, your hand covering hers.

“Don't lie.” You murmur her own words back to her, and she can't find a reason to fight the invitation in your gentle gaze.

—

You're astonished when she explains about her vow, about the similar disguise she adopted.

“But you're so beautiful,” you blurt out, unable to believe she could pass for a man, then flush when she meets your gaze with disbelieving surprise. A little scoff escapes her, but when you hold her gaze steadily, serious, she looks down.

“...I'm sorry,” she replies, stumbling a bit over the honesty. You smile shyly, your turn to be flustered, and she feels her heart turn over. Cute. It startles her to realize her attraction hasn't lessened now that she knows the truth.

“For what?”

“I nearly killed you just now. I frightened you.”

You remember the heart-pounding sight of her above you, her gaze glinting like a blade, teeth bared fiercely. The squirm in your belly has nothing to do with fear.

“You didn't hurt me,” you tell her reassuringly. “Startled me, only. You moved so fast. It was…”--hot–“...impressive.” You give a short laugh. “Perhaps you should be the husband. You're better at it than me.”

Belatedly, you see the flash of pain in her eyes. You have to be a boy, Mizu. Stricken at her expression, you begin to stammer out an apology, but she shakes her head, waving it away as though her moment of vulnerability is too uncomfortable to linger on. All she says is, “Being violent doesn't make a better husband.”

“No,” You agree, apologetically. “But I wish I could protect you the way you seem able to protect yourself.”

“I don't need protection,” she says, more harshly than she meant to. At your flinch, her brow softens. There's a little pause.

You draw your knees up, hugging them. “I guess you'll want to leave, now?” The thought is depressing, but hearing her speak of her vow, the spark in her eyes, you can't stand the idea of trapping her here as your fake wife.

“What?” She looks up, eyes widening.

“On your quest?” You clarify. “I would not force you to stay here, no matter what our parents say.” When she doesn't reply, only stares openmouthed, you add, “I can get you the things you need. We have money. I can get you a travel pass, a horse… whatever might help you.”

She closes her mouth, opens it–closes it again. She looks genuinely moved, the icy edge of her eyes softening as her hand convulsively grasps yours, gratitude bubbling up inside her; of the tiny number of people she has let past her walls, you are the first to ever offer even a scrap of encouragement towards her goals. To Eiji she was foolish, to her mother–selfish, to Mikio… well, even in the beginning he had laughed skeptically, and it had only gone worse from there.

But…

“I owe it to mama to make this work out,” she says with a sigh, though resentment burns in her heart. A disloyal voice mutters in her heart that Mama only wants her as a meal ticket, but she dismisses it.

“We could keep your mother here, while you get your revenge,” you offer, wanting to please her so badly, trying to hide your reluctance; already, you don't want her to go. Her hand over yours is warm, it feels so strong…it's the first time anyone besides family has touched you in any capacity.

She smiles ever so slightly, a rare moment of humor, tinged with the truth. “I could not leave you with them; you've done nothing to deserve such a fate.”

You smile gratefully, then bite your lip, thinking.

“Maybe you could…pretend to be me?”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“On the travel pass–it would have my name. We could travel together, the husband and his new wife,” you expand on the thought, speculating as you go. “You can take up your disguise again when you want to, I can take it up when you don't… either way, all anyone would see would be a man and his wife, traveling legally.”

She's staring again. She looks so blankly dumbfounded that you begin to feel like maybe your plan really is that stupid.

“I'm the heir, remember? I can do as I like, technically.” You grin reluctantly, even as you heart thumps at the idea of your parents' reactions. You've never defied them this outrageously before, but since you're meant to be their son, it occurs to you that they can't protest without outing themselves or losing their heir. It's funny; you've never realized how much power you had, that they need you as much as you need them. Not until you had someone you wanted to help.

“I…I can make sure we have money, and I can stay out of the way…if we can afford horses, and places to stay it will be easier for me to stay out of danger. Maybe with bigger bribes, you won't have as much trouble…”

Still, she says nothing.

“...And your mother can stay here! My parents can't say you left me if we go together, not if they want to keep their son, so they will have to…care for her as an in-law…honorably…” her staring is really starting to make you nervous. “Mizu…?”

She lunges forward again and you freeze; only to feel those hands gently cup your face instead of squeezing your wrists. Softly, at odds with the quickness of her movements, she kisses you.

All your life, you had wondered what it would be like to be kissed; you had simply assumed it was a privilege you would never be allowed. You had no desire for men, and surely no wife would want to once she knew your secret…

It's everything you had never thought you would be allowed to have; her lips glide smoothly and sweetly against yours, lighting up nerve endings you didn't know existed, sending cascades of tingles down your spine. Despite the softness of it, there's an easy sense of control in the way she tilts your face with her hands, guiding you where she wants you, one callused palm sliding down to stroke over the skin of your neck, tugging you closer. You shiver at the muted strength behind that easy tug, how it pulls you forwards against her without the slightest effort.

There's a heat coiling in your belly that you've never felt before by the time she pulls back, her eyes searching your face.

There is a pause.

“...I don't want to sleep alone,” she blurts out, cheeks flushed. Your heart, already fluttering, begins to thump hard.

“Neither do I,” You say breathlessly, watching the way she smiles again, shakily.

You stare at each other, lost as to how to proceed.

“I…I don't know how to please a woman,” she says finally, her flush deepening.

“I don't know how to please anyone.” You admit.

You both stutter out a laugh, mutually nervous, but then the laughter fades to a charged silence.

Slowly, as if trying not to scare you away, she reaches out for you again, cupping the back of your head. This time the kiss is only soft for the first moments before it grows heated, hungrier, both of you relaxing into a desire you never expected to be reciprocated.

The swipe of a tongue over your lower lip startles you; it slips between your lips when they part on a gasp. At your tiny noise, you can feel her tense; she rises from sitting, to her knees, shuffling closer to you, her hand sliding down your spine. Without breaking the kiss, she guides you back to lie down on the mat.

This time when she looks down at you, the fire behind the ice has a very different burn to it, still focused like a beam of light all on you; no less of a thrill. Desire is written across your flushed features, easy to read…along with anxiety; this is all so new to you.

Long fingers stroke your cheek. The blue eyes are intent, focused as always, but determined on something more pleasant now. “I will take care of you,” comes the whispered reassurance. She presses another kiss to your lips, then another, pulling back to watch the way your eyes slowly lose their nerves and become hazy. Her gaze roves over your pretty features, down over the smaller frame beneath her. She swallows back her own nerves; she wants to make this good for you, better than what she had.

The neck. She remembers how good that, at least, had felt with-...no. She's not going to think about him anymore–not ever again.

It's easy to redirect her thoughts; the first brush of her lips against the delicate skin beneath your jaw rewards her with the sound of you moaning her name softly, sending a pulse of desire straight down through her core, more potent than she can ever remember feeling. Without thinking, she bites down, reveling in the soft skin yielding beneath her teeth. You grit your teeth to stifle your cry, desire pooling with sudden intensity between your legs at the little spark of pain.

“Too hard?” Oh by the gods, that raspy voice in your ear…

“Mm-mm,” you manage shakily, teeth digging into your lip.

“Tell me if it is,” comes the reply, firm voice breathless, lips already finding your skin again. Your fingers tighten against her shoulders as she buries her head deeper against your neck.

Her fingers are careful when they part your shirt, while you fumble nervously with the many, many layers of her kimono. She isn't exactly helpful, more interested in letting her long fingers map the contours of your body, finding places that make your fingers stumble and your body twitch. She leaves you to puzzle out her clothes, distracted and eager, so that you’re too busy to be shy…up until the moment her hands push your thighs apart.

You freeze with a gasp, your face going deep red so fast that heat prickles behind your eyes. Nobody has ever, ever seen you like this, exposed, openly desirous.

“Mizu…”

She pauses immediately, breathing hard. Her eyes are piercing, hungry. She looks…incredible. You've managed to get her down to her hadagi, with the base layer garment falling off one lean, sharp shoulder, her hair falling in a rich dark curtain around you both. She looks like a wolf crouched above you, a feast waiting within its grasp, predatory in a thrilling way. But then she looks up at you, and you can see that she's waiting–she's used to self denial. She'll wait forever for you to be ready. “We can stop–” she murmurs.

No. You shake your head, but you’re too overwhelmed to speak. I don't want to stop. Feeling desperate to make it clear, you reach out and take her hand, pulling it down to the pulsing ache at the apex of your thighs.

The touch is a shock to you, even self-inflicted. You suck in air sharply at the feeling of her hand, cool fingers against wet heat. Wide eyes meet hers; you see the predator flare again as the blue color darkens. Cute, she can't help but think, flexing her fingers against you and seeing you arch immediately, biting your lip to stifle your cry. So…sweet.

Once she's seen your face crease in ecstasy, she will take the time to disrobe, properly; she'll teach you how to touch her. She can feel herself throb at the thought of your face in flushed, shy concentration as your hands find the places on her body that ache to be touched. For now she straddles your thigh, pressing her heated core against it as her fingers press inside you, burying her grunt of pleasure in your neck as she feels you shift your muscles to press up against her more firmly. Even in the throes of losing your virginity, you respond to her pleasure.

It's nothing like what she knew before; as she brings you forward into submission, everything is soft and slick and easy, and there is nothing but a pleasure that builds on and on. She knows that for you, this is all you know, and she is determined that this is all you will ever know; easy pleasure under her possessive touch.

–

She wakes you before the sun is up, and you gape at the person above you. It’s still Mizu, but dressed as a man, her hair scraped back into a bun, only that one stubborn curl escaping. She looks sharper, more dangerous, and you feel a pulse of delighted attraction. No matter how you dress, you are stunning.

You pack as quietly as possible. By mutual agreement, you'll stay dressed as a man for now; it's easier to ride, and all of her kimonos are at least a foot too long for you. Besides, frankly, you have no idea how to dress or behave as a woman.

She looks over her shoulder at the house, seeming guilty, as you pack up.

“She'll be fine,” you murmur, taking up your reins. Internally, you think with some vindictiveness that the three of them will probably drive each other completely crazy, and they'll deserve it. But Mizu has honor, and duty, on her mind, and you want to save her the conflict.

“We can come back to visit, or stay, when you're done,” you offer, and she turns to you with a grimace. You have to laugh. You agree with the unspoken thought of how unpleasant that could be.

“Then we’ll settle somewhere new, when this is all over,” you promise her, your chest bubbling with happiness at the thought.

“Hm,” she grunts. Something about her male disguise in the light of day seems to make her more taciturn, more guarded from the soft openness you saw last night in the darkness.

But there's still a tiny hint of that same smile playing at the corner of her mouth as she glances sidelong at you from under the brim of her wide hat.

“How do you feel about raising horses?”

You smile. “How do you feel about becoming artists?”

Something about the word artist seems to brighten something in her eyes, even behind the glasses; she looks almost light for a moment at the prospect.

“An artist,” she says, low and contemplative, turning back to face the road, thinking with a pang of her sword father, how much she can't wait for you to meet him. “Perhaps that is my fate.”

.

[swightops]

still holding the silence (2) - thunderbolts* (b. reynolds)

summary - you deal with the aftermath of the gala and find an old friend asking for your help. warning(s) - typical thunderbolts warnings (depression, cannon violence, blood, etc.), language a/n - CA 4, thunderbolts, heavy angst as you delve into old avengers stuff, mc is kinda mean at time but hey she's hurting, i promise we'll see our man next chapter LMAO, the plot thickens oooooo

"Sunwraith Salutes New Generation?"

Famously retired Avenger known as Sunwraith made a surprise appearance at the "Meet the Future" gala, and an even more surprising gesture of support. Appearing alongside Valentina Allegra de Fontaine, the ex-hero smiled for photos and stood arm-in-arm with the New Avengers leader, prompting speculation that Sunwraith might be quietly endorsing the controversial new team.

Comments:

"Wow, I never thought I'd see Sunwraith at a gala again! This could mean big changes for the New Avengers!" "lol no way Sunwraith actually likes this new team" "The New Avenger literally don't compare to the old ones" "I'm skeptical. Sunwraith was a pure Avenger and she's not a part of this new team?" "I think Sunwraith just wants to support the new heroes. Change is always scary but we need to give them a chance!" "I'm so excited for this new team omgggg"

You groan as you toss the tablet to the side, not wanting to remember anything about last night. Your PR team had already given you an earful about the event earlier today, since your name started trending on social media, and the world wondered whether you truly supported the New Avengers. A buzz distracts your attention from the internet storm as you look down at your phone.

Sam Wilson

[Really?] [Attached: 1 link]

[She set me up] [Bitch]

[You okay?]

[Thinking about it]

Your fingers hover over the keyboard momentarily, deciding if you should send your next text. Fuck it.

[Saw Bucky]

The following minutes drag on as the typing bubbles appear and disappear on the screen.

[Have a mission. Got to go. We'll talk later.]

"Ughhh," you groan, throwing your phone away and dragging your hands down your face. The headline still burns in your head like an unwanted tattoo.

"Sunwraith Salutes New Generation?"

Your head falls back against the couch as you glance around the big, sterile, expensive apartment. It's not home, never quite home. You try to make it feel like home by hanging up pictures of your family, adding little knick-knacks around the place, and adding pops of color to bring life to the apartment, but it doesn't help.

The silence returns, settling over your shoulders like fog.

There never used to be silence, not after the Avengers.

You get up, not because you have anywhere to go, but because sitting still feels like drowning. You wander to your office, where work waits. Stark Relief documents. New Light proposals. A sticky note from Pepper in her neat, decisive handwriting:

"Board meeting resched. Monday. Don't forget to breathe."

You laugh, humorless and low. Breathing feels like the hardest part lately. You sink into your chair and stare at the spreadsheet open on the monitor. Profit margins. Logistics. Some initiative sent over by the GRC.

No one trained you for this. You were trained to throw punches, to induce fear in those whom Hydra told you to, to let the shadows consume all. You weren't trained to run a company. And no matter how many zeroes are in your bank account or how many buildings bear your name (or Tony's), it still doesn't fill the space they left behind.

You push back from the desk, suddenly too restless, too full. You walk to the window and press your hand against the glass. The city blurs beneath you, all movement and meaning, and none of it belonging to you.

You're a statue in a world that keeps moving.

You flex your fingers. That soft golden glow flickers to life—your power, your legacy, but it flickers.

Dims.

And then fades.

Your stomach growls. Glancing at the desk, you know you won't get any work done. Might as well make dinner.

It’s almost muscle memory now—this recipe, this dish. The kitchen smells before you even start chopping. You pull out different ingredients: chicken thighs, onions, paprika (the Hungarian kind Wanda used to swear by), chicken stock, and sour cream. You line them up like puzzle pieces and smile faintly when you catch yourself muttering the steps under your breath.

You chop slower than usual tonight. There's no rush. No alarms. No missions. You sauté the onions in oil until they're golden, then add the chicken and let the kitchen fill with sizzle and scent. The paprika goes in next, painting the pan in warm red, and something in your chest settles.

You aren’t making this for anyone.

You let the dish simmer before setting a plate. Just one. But beside it, without thinking, you place a second and third. You don’t sit right away. You stare at the plates and wonder if you're crazy.

Then again, crazy might be the only thing keeping you human.

You finish the dish with a spoonful of sour cream, stirring gently until the sauce is velvety-soft. You taste it. It's still good, still rich, still theirs.

“Ms. L/N,” a voice says from above you. FRIDAY. “You have a guest.”

You blink. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“It's,” FRIDAY pauses. Although she's AI, a program designed by code, her voice has always been very human and compassionate. "Mr. Barnes is here."

You sigh, dusting imaginary dust from your hands. “Send him up.”

As you stand, you stare at the empty plates, hoping that magically it eases your racing heart. It doesn't.

A soft ding sounds throughout the apartment as the elevator doors open. Footsteps follow—slow, steady, too familiar. Your breath catches in your chest as you turn to look at Bucky. He stands in all black, his coat damp from the drizzle outside. Hair tied back. Eyes unreadable.

“Hey.”

You don’t respond. You can’t. There’s a buzzing in your head.

He shifts, hands still buried deep in his pockets. His eyes shift to the plates on the table. “Were you expecting people?”

You don’t say yes. Just shake your head no. “Why did you come, Bucky?” you ask, folding your arms. “You were perfectly fine with ignoring me before.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“That’s funny,” you snap. 

“I wasn’t ready to talk.”

“Well, I’m not ready either,” you say, stepping back. “So maybe you can go.”

“Wait-” He takes a step forward, and the tension snaps, pulling tight around your chest.

“You don’t get to wait, Bucky,” you say, voice trembling. “You completely ghosted. You let me think that you were done with me. That we don't mean anything to each other anymore."

His mouth opens. Nothing comes out.

You scoff bitterly. “No clever line? No excuse? What, no backup from your flashy new team?”

“It's not what you think,” Bucky mutters.

You roll your eyes. "Spare me, Buck."

He sighs, his tongue darting out quickly to wet his lower lip before biting it. “I didn't come here to fight,” Bucky says quietly. “I came because I need your help.”

That makes you laugh, bitter and small. His words sting. It's not about you, it's about what you can do. “Of course you do.”

“I know you met Bob.”

You blink. “What does he have to do with this?”

Bucky steps closer, his hand pulling out a small flash drive from his coat pocket. He places it on the kitchen island before slowly sliding it to you, almost scared that you might run off. "Short story, he can't control his abilities. Powers, memories, it’s all bleeding together. He’s afraid he’s going to hurt someone. And honestly…so am I.”

You close your eyes for a moment. The buzzing intensifies. 

“I don’t know how to help him, and truthfully, there aren't many people I can trust to help him,” he says, and your heart aches. Trust. "He needs someone who understands him in the way the rest of us can't," he pauses. "And...I think you do too...Please, Sunny-"

“Don't,” you say sharply.

He flinches. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” you say again, pointing a finger at him now. “Don’t say it like I’m still her. Like I’m still that version of me. I don’t even know what I’m doing most days, Bucky. I wake up, I read headlines that praise me or, worse, pity me. I go to meetings for a company I don't think I can run. I sit in boardrooms with people who talk about Tony like he was a brand. And then I come home. And I sit. And I wonder if any of it mattered. And then I wonder if I did."

He swallows hard. “You did. You do."

"And then sometimes I wonder...I wonder if we did the right thing...bringing everyone back. That if maybe we didn't, then they would be here. Misreable, but here!" you admit, and it feels good. To finally say the salty thought out loud.

Silence.

Your watery eyes meet with Bucky's, and you then turn away. "Sorry, that was a lot. Um, if you wanna leav-"

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he cuts in. “y/n, believe me. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. Just...help Bob. Please. If you want me gone after that, I’ll go. I'll make sure none of this "New Avenger" stuff gets near you again."

You don’t say anything for a long moment. Then, finally, you speak, barely audible.

“He’s staying at the Tower?”

“Yeah.”

You nod slowly. “I’ll come tomorrow.”

Bucky exhales through his nose, maybe the closest thing he’s come to relief since he arrived. He moves to leave, and you're letting out a breath that you didn't know you were holding.

"I know you think you're not who you used to be. But to me, you're still Sunny. You're still you, y/n."

You don’t respond.

The elevator dings and the doors open before they close again, and you’re alone again.

You stand motionless. The air feels different now—thinner, lighter. Bucky took something with him when he left. You're not sure how long you stand there, hands curled into fists at your sides.

You're still Sunny. You're still you, Y/N.

You exhale sharply. A broken sound.

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper to the empty room. Your eyes fall to the flash drive, and your fingers grab hold of it before you can really think. They dig into the sides of it as if it’s the only thing keeping you connected to Bucky. Maybe it is. 

The smell of the paprikash hits you, and you’re reminded of your dinner. Almost robotically, you’re serving yourself, and you sit at your dinner table. Just sit and look at the empty table before you. And then, your fingers dig into the flash drive, and with a flick of your wrist, shadows move from the corners of the room, and your laptop is placed in front of you. 

The blob of shadows straightens out before you, and it just stares at you like it’s trying to get deep into your mind and roll your eyes. Deciding it’s better to ignore “it”, you plug the drive in and immediately files pop up. 

SUBJECT: REYNOLDS, ROBERT. aka “The Sentry”

You scroll. Your eyes flick over O.X.E. logs, therapist reports, and medical scans. O.X.E. It rang a bell in your head. Shit, where did you hear about it?

“Extreme power mismatch. Emotional destabilization suspected. Cognitive dissonance under pressure catalyzes the emergence of what is to be described as “The Void.”

There’s a photo of a lab room. There’s a table in the middle of it, but what draws your attention are the two human-shaped shadows imprinted into the wall. Both with their hands up, almost like they were running from something or someone. Another report catches your eye.

“Patient describes the entity as a shadow of the self. A voice. A second presence. Distinct yet intimately fused. The more power he uses, the more it surfaces.”

You swallow.

Your chest tightens. Not because of what’s on the screen. But because of how familiar it feels. You open a video file.

Bob’s there. He’s in big, oversized scrubs, sitting in a doctor's room on some sort of bed. He’s curled up into him just like that night you two met. “It isn’t always cruel,” Bob says. “Sometimes it sounds like the only one who understands me. Sometimes it sounds like…me.”

A long, thin silence follows.

“He came to you because he sees it in you too.”

You jerk your head up. The voice isn’t real. You know that. But you haven’t heard it in a long time. 

“He sees that brokenness in you. Everyone can.”

“Shut up,” you whisper. Your palms burn faintly, powers curling at the edge of your control. The lights in the apartment flicker for a moment. Just a heartbeat.

You clench your fists tighter. “Shut. Up.”

But the voice only sighs—fond, tired. “Don’t you miss how good it feels?”

You slam your laptop shut. Panic clings to your skin, cold and slippery. You rise too quickly and pace around the kitchen, hands trembling. There’s nothing to fight, but your muscles are coiled like you're bracing for impact.

You grip the edge of the sink.

Breathe in.

Out.

The shadows on the floor move with you. They always do. You’ve tried to pretend you’re in control of them. But some nights, you’re not sure who’s following who.

When you catch your reflection in the microwave door, your eyes glow faintly golden, not bright, but unmistakable. A quiet reminder of what lives under your skin. What lives deep down in your core. What calls to you when no one’s around. 

You avert your gaze. You’ve spent so long keeping it in and keeping in control, and yet, it’s slipping out so easily right now. How could you possibly help Bob when you can’t even help yourself?

Another tired breath escapes you before you sit back down at the table and open your laptop. You read more files, watch more videos, and skim over medical reports before a more recent report catches your eye. 

Subject: “Nightfall” Location: New York Casualties: Proximately 4000 people affected, minor injuries reported, no deaths reported Symptoms: Rapid psychological collapse, extreme hallucination, physical shadow assimilation Origin: Unknown energy pulse originating from R. Reynolds, later confirmed to be "The Void" entity. Field Notes: Victims reported being trapped inside 'memories,' often their worst or most shameful. Reports of time dilation, possession, and an unidentifiable psychic broadcast frequency mimicking grief cycles.

You stop there.

You remember that day. You and Pepper had watched from your tablet screen in France, arguing about whether you should take off for New York to stop the madness. At the time, you didn’t know what had caused it, over just as soon as it began, only that it reminded you too much of your own power when it slips, when it pulls too hard.

You keep reading. 

Post-Incident Recovery: Public story reframed as a biological weapon scare. Following the successful suppression of the Void, Director de Fontaine initiated Phase 2 of the Avenger Initiative Reformation. Results: "The New Avengers."

Your jaw clenches.

That’s what this was. Not a victory. Not some earned rebranding. Just a cover-up. A PR move. They turned a tragedy into a stage.

You exhale sharply and look back at your screen. Unable to stop, you keep reading before another file catches your eye. It’s encrypted. “FRIDAY, unlock this one.”

“Right away, boss.”

PROJECT: SENTRY / Source Documentation Archive Authorization: LEVEL BLACK Link Chain: O.X.E. // Archive Root: (REDACTED) Initiative

You freeze.

There’s no explanation. No subject name. No reference. Just:

—secondary prototype derived from archived data. Subject parallels stable. Cognitive divergence unstable. Full severance from original subject history approved. PROJECT CONTINUED UNDER CODE: SENTRY.

You sit back slowly, like any movement might disturb what you’ve just read. O.X.E., no Valentia Allerga de Fontaine, gave Bob his powers.

They built The Sentry. Created The Void. 

You stare blankly at your reflection in the dark screen. Your golden eyes catch faintly again, just for a second, before fading. Deep inside you, the pit stirs again, quiet and knowing, feeding off your unease. 

Bob Reynolds had a darkness within him. Something that matched the one deep within you. And tomorrow, you were going to see it up close.

[lyrefromthesea]

Since you lost your list of requests, I'll write mine again 😅. how hashiras would punish reader if they get on their nerves/make them jealous/disappointed them/etc.

Male Hashira x Reader - the punishment you deserve

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: slight angst?

Tengen:

• truthfully, i think he often gets upset about the smaller things in life. the decisions made in his family of four always have to be in sync with his wants and beliefs, otherwise he could get petty.

• his punishments are unspoken, nothing he really tries to force on other people. however, after Suma, Makio, Hina and you all vote against his plans, his mood immediately drops.

• the punishment you'll receive from him will not only influence you, but his other lovers as well. he's down and nothing is as he wants. he's not happy and through little acts and petty comments, his mood will become all of your moods too.

Obanai:

• he will ignore you. i would bet my right hand. this man will get upset over something either justified in every sense of the word or the most stupid act you'll ever see, because you can't influence it.

• don't get him wrong, he loves you and he's a gentle lover too, but not after you made his day turn out this way. Kaburamaru is not allowed on your shoulder anymore, he stays by his side or can get ignored just like you.

• he'll make a point out of seeing you enter a room and looking the other way, pretending like that wasn't fully intentional.

• however, he stops punishing you rather quickly, because he wants to spend time with you. punishing you is indirectly a punishment for him.

Rengoku:

• i think that Rengoku and you at least share one hobby that you both love. having thrown this into the room, it'll be a thing for the two of you to spend evenings together and live out that hobby.

• he doesn't punish you often, but he has a good reason when he does. his punishments aren't meant to hurt you either, it's more like your actions made him upset.

• he cancels your little hobby dates, saying that he doesn't want to do it in this state. the way he often sadly trots away makes you swiftly follow after him, resulting in a long talk about how certain things just aren't okay.

Sanemi:

• he's downright mean. he'll make a point out of mentioning what you did wrong every chance he gets until you apologize.

• you accidentally fall? "are you trying to make me jealous again? it's not working this time." expect that you hadn't tried to make him jealous to begin with. another person had complimented you and, like the fool you were, you blushed.

• he's a jealous man, and while he often knows how to hide it, he'll also have times to let his frustrations out in these kinds of "punishments"

• "i already said i'm sorry, Sanemi..!" your sad expression makes him pause, quietly apologizing for being rude and helping you up.

• he's jealous, not a monster.

Giyuu:

• just like Obanai, he'll probably ignore you. however, he does it subconsciously.

• there are certain things Giyuu just doesn't like and he'll get upset seeing you do them. the unwanted feeling of anger or sadness forces him to make a quick decision. ignore you or possibly hurt you with his words.

• he'll try to avoid you until he has grown calmer, less prone to acting on his emotions. it's just that you'll feel hurt by the time he finally talks to you again.

Gyomei:

• he's not the type for punishments, at least not for any kind of punishment that could harm you.

• i believe he only really gets upset in extreme cases like hurting other people, which you probably won't do or - the more likely scenario - when you do something reckless.

• he'll certainly tell you that he wasn't fond of your actions, not liking that you put yourself in danger.

• however, if you have an upcoming event with him, like training together, he will cancel it. it's not a punishment in his eyes, he just doesn't want you to get hurt. of course, you perceive the canceled time differently.

[calicoups]

human shield

encountering strangers at a house party can be nice, while other times it can be...not what you expect. not to worry! here comes your big boyfriend to save you.

info seungcheol x reader, comfort (i lowkey don't know how to categorise this), reader is smaller than cheol, unwanted attention from strangers, 1139 words. hani's note i'm back pookies 😝 i have some more in store for you all coming soon! anyways, i hope you enjoy this and pls interact with it by liking commenting/reblogging <3

music boomed throughout the place and you watched as your friends move to the current song playing with grins on their face, belting out lyrics every now and then.

it had been a while since you all had hung out with each other, each of you being held down with work and taking up extra shifts or tasks to help colleagues. you were more than relieved when your friends realised that their free time had finally aligned with the whole groups and suggested an activity to do together which is how you all ended up at a...house party?

okay, maybe a house party wasn't something you would have liked to spend precious time with your friends. originally, you had planned to do a few rounds at go-karting but the place had turned out to be closed on the day you all agreed for the hang out. bummed out and a little annoyed, seokmin had been quick to bring up a house party that would be hosted by his friend. most of your friends had perked up and said that it would be a little refreshing to attend the party, that it'll allow you all to relax after facing all the stress from your respective work lives.

so here you are, leaning against the wall with seungcheol on your right. the two of you had been dancing with the others for a while but soon became a little exhausted and moved to the side to catch your breaths.

from the corner of your eye, you see seungcheol turn to you, "i'm a little thirsty, are you?"

"oh, yeah. i really need a drink right now, would you mind?" you tilt your head and watch as he smiles at you.

seungcheol shakes his head and pinches your cheek, "i don't mind at all, baby. stay right here, okay? i'll be back."

he disappears into the crowd and your eyes linger there for a few seconds before flitting away to look for your friends. as expected, seokmin and soonyoung are still dancing, they stop to drag wonwoo into the mix who protests at first but joins in with a smile.

however, your view becomes obstructed as two men approach you, your smile dropping. it's a little intimidating but you're sure you can handle a little chat if that's what they want.

one of them speaks up, "hey, cutie. are you alone out here?" he gestures behind him with a thumb before continuing, "we can keep you company!"

from the way he started his conversation you can tell how he definitely does not want just a little chat so you decide not to entertain him or his friend, "no, thank you. my boyfriend is here with me."

but they laugh when you say that and look at each other sceptically, "boyfriend?" one of them asks, almost in disbelief. there's a smell of cigarettes and alcohol coming from them and it makes your nose scrunch up slightly.

his friend steps forward, "where is he? don't see him here..." he pretends to look around and it begins to irk you the way they're both acting.

"we can't leave a pretty lady alone. lets go have some fun," the other man reaches towards you and tucks some hair behind your ear. you jerk backwards at the unwanted action, feeling disgusted.

“we’ll make sure you have fun, pretty." you don't answer but he persists, "let us buy you a drink, then.”

“no thanks, my boyfriend's got that.” you spit and divert your attention somewhere else with crossed arms, feeling a little suffocated from so much attention from two strangers alone. you can tell they’re getting a little annoyed but know that they won’t give up.

“why are you being so difficult? just come with us and relax,” one of them says with faint scowl. frustrated, you stare at them with fiery eyes, "i said no. you may fuck off, now."

you notice one of his hand reaching towards your face but it never touches you, a tall figure steps in front of you and blocks his way, the woody scent wafting into your nose.

seungcheol.

realising that it’s none other than seungcheol just from his scent, comforting warmth and built figure, you relax and let out the breath you were unintentionally holding.

“heard you were looking for this lovely lady’s boyfriend!” seungcheol jests, voice steady and dominating as he hands his and your drinks to vernon beside him. completely shielded by your boyfriends frame, your hand clutches onto his shirt at the waist and a finger from the other hand hooks into his belt loop as you watch him intimidate them effortlessly.

one of the men scoffs, “that’s you? move buddy, she’s no match for yo—”

seungcheol cuts him off, “and you are? that’s a good joke, maybe you should be a comedian!” he chuckles falsely and pats one of them on their shoulder before his smile vanishes, “don't ever think about laying that dirty hand on my girl or any other that clearly says no, for that matter. now, unless you don't want to keep being able to use that hand, you better fuck off like she said."

the guy sends seungcheol a dirty look and drags his friend down the hallway. seungcheol watches closely until the both of them are out of his sight.

"fucking creep," seungcheol mumbles.

"hey, you good?" vernon questions softly, earning a nod of you as a response.

a warm hand rests on your upper arm, you look up to see that it belongs to seungcheol who peers down at you with a worried look on his face. your name falls from his lips effortlessly, "are you okay? they didn't try anything, did they? I'm so sorry i took so long, i should not have left you alone like that."

"it's okay, they didn't do anything. i'm the one who sent you to get us drinks," you reassure him, "don't apologise, cheol."

"i'm still sorry, doll. i should have taken you with me," he pulls you closer, your chests meeting as he hugs you gently.

"i told you, it's okay," you kiss his jaw for extra reassurance before taking your drink from vernon, "thanks nonie."

vernon smiles and pats your head, "i got you. also, have you seen the others? i'll have to take their drunk asses home today."

seungcheol takes his own drink from vernon's hand, watching you nod and point to where the others were still dancing. wonwoo catches you pointing and taps both soonyoung and seokmin before tugged them along over to the three of you.

"hi!" soonyoung shouts with a wave. you wince at his volume and slap a hand to his mouth to which he speaks muffled words into.

seokmin, in his own drunken state, shushes soonyoung with a finger to his lips, "shh, soonie. you have to be quiet, okay?"

"see what i mean?"

WOOHOOOO!! you made it to the end! please don't hesitate to leave me feedback in my ask box or to like, comment/reblog! thank you for reading <3

[planet-hwa]

BAD BOY FACADE CHAPTER 2 — 산

. . . ⇢ previous chapter  ◦  series masterlist word count 5.6k

warnings     the nickname princess will be a running theme through the series, jealousy, swearing, mentions of drugs, smaaall verbal argument, gaslighting, guilt-tripping — featuring woosang

❝ i'm the devil's advocate, you don't know the half of it ❞ 🎧 now playing   devil's advocate ; the neighbourhood

“Hey princess, do you have a pencil?” The boy next to you coughed lightly, pulling your attention to him.

You turned and were met with the sharp feline features you saw in the courtyard, looking sharper than a knife when closer — his jawline could cut you with the slightest touch. Not only was your new seating partner a devilishly handsome man, but also the man who winked at you ten minutes prior causing unwarranted butterflies in your stomach.

A smirk pulled at the corner of his lips at your slightly bewildered expression before he asked once more. “So, pencil or not?”

“Y-yeah, sorry.” Quickly reaching into your pencil case and passing it, sending him a small apologetic smile. “There you go.”

“Thanks princess.” He smirked, grabbing the pencil and letting his fingers graze yours softly, the small touch tingling through your skin and sending unwanted feelings through you.

Trying to concentrate on the information spilling from Mrs Waltz, something about a history project, but you were too distracted by the feeling of eyes burning into the back of your skull. You could feel the piercing glare that Yunho was shooting in your direction, almost feeling the heat of his jealous aura radiate through the room. Turning to meet his gaze, his eyes were dark and eyebrows furrowed, all he did was shake his head slowly at you before moving to talk to Hiraya, his best friend — the move he was always pull when trying to make you guilty and jealous, knowing you didn’t like her. You turned away slightly defeated, but also annoyed at your boyfriend's attitude, before turning to the boy next to you.

“You can’t call me that.” You whispered, leaning your head in slightly as to not interrupt the lesson. The boy’s lip curled at the corner once more, a small dimple denting his cheek as his smirk only grew. “Call you what, princess?”

“That.” You muttered, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth before turning to face you.

“Okay, sorry princ- what’s your name?” He paused slightly as your eyes narrowed at the nickname, still holding a cockiness to his attitude. 

When you were talking about giving the Southside students a chance, there were definitely going to be some exceptions. One exception was automatically going to be Wooyoung, and you should’ve known that the people he was friends with would be just as arrogant and smug as he was described.

The classroom began to grow louder with chatting students as the teacher finished her opening lecture. You could still feel the eyes that daggered into the back of your head, only another pair was doing the same though you didn’t know it.

Behind Yunho’s piercing gaze followed another boy, who saw you earlier with his ex best friend and had heard about you — deciding to hate you the moment he saw the two of you walking through the courtyard. Wooyoung was aware that Yeosang quickly became friends with you after the two of them departed, and he despised it. Not because you were friends with his ex, but because Yeosang wasn’t more hurt after their eight years of friendship crumbled into the ground, not as hurt as Wooyoung felt: at least, that’s what he thought.

“It’s Y/N,” You stated, turning back to continue your work. “Not that we’ll be talking much.”

“Aww, why not, afraid I might corrupt you?” That stupid shit-eating grin still sat on his face as he crossed his arms and leaned back into his chair. The leather of his jacket squeaked as it moved along the back of the chair.

“No it’s not that, it’s just-” You didn’t really know what to tell him. It’s a bit weird to say to a stranger that the reason you can’t talk to him much is because your boyfriend was overly jealous that you were involuntarily sat next to a guy that isn’t him. “I need to focus on my work without any distractions.”

The dark haired boy raised his eyebrows, slightly offended by being referred to as a ‘distraction’, but left you alone — for now. That was the last thing you said before blocking him out for the rest of the class, hoping that Yunho noticed the lack of communication between the two of you and leave his jealous behaviour to cease.

The lesson felt like it was never ending, a continuous loop of historic information going in one ear and out the other. You struggled to stay awake and write notes down until the bell rang through the school. The floorboards creaked as students filed out of the room and hurried towards the cafeteria. You rushed to clean up your things, looking back at Yunho’s seat and noticing he had already left, unnecessary guilt began creeping through your body.

There were only the new students and yourself still remaining in the classroom as Mrs Waltz quickly chatted to each of them. You stopped your rush to pack up, not wanting to get caught up in the cafeteria line fight (or with Yunho’s current emotional state) as Yeosang’s figure appeared at the door. He sent you a small wave before distracting himself with his phone, not paying much attention to the classroom, or who was inside.

“My name’s San, by the way.” He whispered in your ear before walking toward Wooyoung. “See you later, princess.”

That stupid nickname, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at it. You could tell, by his overly cocky and confident demeanour, this nickname was going to stick whether you liked it or not. You gathered your things and made your way over to Yeosang without a second glance at San.

“You could’ve waited for me at our usual spot,” You stated as Yeosang looked up from his phone, quickly switching it off and pushing it into his pocket. “It would’ve probably been easier.”

“What do you mean, I always wait for you outside class?” He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, unsure why you wanted a change in the routine you had unintentionally set a few years ago.

The confusion was quickly replaced with realisation at your attempt to save him from an awkward situation. It was as if time had slowed as Wooyoung walked towards the door and past Yeosang, their eyes connecting instantaneously. There was no need for any words, their faces communicating every emotion and cutting through the thick tension between them. Yeosang’s face was easy to read: his eyes were soft with deep sorrow in them, the underlying sense of hope that his best friend had changed was quickly demolished by the emotionless face that stared back at him. His heart began to break as the sunken cheeks and dull coloured eyes showed him that nothing had changed about Wooyoung — still addicted and still a dickhead.

They moved past you, Wooyoung’s shoulder connecting with Yeosang’s and pushing him backwards slightly. God, you wanted to punch the smug look on his face after it. San followed him out the door, sending you another wink which you returned with disgust once more.

You watched as Yeosang’s eyes followed their figures moving down the halls before switching back to you and distracting himself with more pressing matters. “Lunch now? I’m starving.”

You shoved your books neatly into your locker and linked arms with Yeosang before making your way to the cafeteria for some very underwhelming “fancy” food.

“Oh, and I made a new friend for us.” Yeosang cheered as the doors to the courtyard pushed open, a cool breeze blowing over you and sending a small chill through your body.

“Wow, replacing me already?” You snarked, dropping his arm but being collected back by him.

“Very funny, I could never replace you.” He dramatically declared, a small giggle leaving your mouth. “I promise, he’s nice.”

The cafeteria line was long but moved steadily, until it was finally your turn. Filling up your trays with various different foods, all of them with unpronounceable names and looking like they’d be on the menu of a five star fancy restaurant, you left the line and wandered to your favourite spot.

The Promise Tree.

A willowed cherry blossom tree that sat in the middle of the large courtyard that had small notes from all previous generations tied to the branches. A lot of the notes were promises of high school couples to stay together for the rest of their lives: spoiler, most didn’t. Some were to promise to do well with grades and to succeed in life, but most were silly little drawings or confessions. You and Yeosang claimed the cobbled seats under it as your spot a few years ago, always sitting here to eat or study during your spares.

As you made your way over, your eyes scanned the courtyard for Yunho and quickly located him. He was sitting with his group of friends, Hiraya tightly snug next to him and acting like there was no more room at the table. His eyes caught yours, a smirk grew on his face as he watched your discomfort of how close she sat next to him, his revenge for your actions in class. You turned away and continued following Yeosang, noticing a figure over his shoulder that was sat under the tree as you grew closer.

The boy waved and Yeosang waved back, you doing the same even though you had no idea who it was. He had one of the most beautiful faces on a guy, on anyone, that you had ever seen, white shoulder-length hair shaping his cheekbones nicely. 

“Hwa, thank god you didn’t get lost.” Yeosang smiled brightly at the boy before turning to you. “This is Y/N, my best friend and now yours too!”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Seonghwa.” He shook your hand as you sat down, a sweet smile coating his face and pinching at the corners of his eyes. “Yeosang talked about you a lot in class.”

“Wow, way to call me out.”

You laughed as you watched him shove pasta into his mouth, the sauce already spreading around his mouth messily. You turned back to Seonghwa and began sharing small details about each other's lives. He was from the Southside but was a bit more fortunate than the rest, and he seemed to be the nicest of the students that you had met so far. As lunch continued, you got to know each other better and were instantly clicking together, it already being decided he was the newest member of your friendship duo — now a trio. 

The chatter of the courtyard died down and was replaced with whispers, pulling your attention to the distraction. Multiple rumours of the newly entering group began spreading across each table, growing more exotic with each whisper. The four boys sporting their leather jackets strode through the courtyard with an intimidating presence, San in front acting as their leader. Different reactions mixed through the air. The private school boys held judgemental thoughts towards them but were not confident enough to say them in fear of being beaten up. It was obvious though, that the girls were extremely interested, desperate eyes following the boys movements and examining their handsome looks: most drawn to the handsome confidence of Choi San.

You couldn’t deny that you weren’t paying attention to them either, even if you didn’t want to. They were like a messy car crash; you wanted to look away but the subconscious interest kept pulling your eyes back to them, back to him. Although multiple people stared, it was like he could only feel your gaze, meeting in and growing another shit-eating smirk on his lips before sitting at the table a few metres from you.

“God, not even a day at the school and they already think they own it.” Yeosang scoffed, directly turning his back towards their table and avoiding any further eye contact with one specific boy.

“It’s what they’re used to,” Seonghwa sighed. “It’s how they ran things at the old school before they– nevermind…”

Curiosity trailed at the end of Seonghwa’ sentence as he cut himself off from saying something he deemed unimportant. There were rumours of how the Southside High School suddenly burst into flames but nothing was ever confirmed, but there seems to be a reason that is known amongst some.

“Well at least none of them are in our homeroom, right Hwa?” Yeosang stated, momentarily forgetting about what happened fifteen minutes prior. “Oh… sorry Y/N, I forgot.”

“It’s fine, I think I can handle being in the same room as them for a few hours each day.” You huffed as you picked out the green peas from your pasta, the mushiness of them always grossed you out. “I’m just glad that he who shall not be named isn’t in your homeroom.”

Yeosang smiled softly at you, his eyes quickly drifting down and watching as he fiddled with his food before devouring it once more, very messily.

“Voldemort?” Seonghwa questioned and grew confused as the both of you burst into laughter. You quickly explained the situation to him without spilling unnecessary hurtful reminders, Yeosang promising to tell him the full story one day.

Before you could continue the conversation, a teacher walked up to your table and asked to borrow Seonghwa for the rest of the break. You waved goodbye as he followed the teacher back into school, leaving you back in old times with the solitude of Yeosang. A small silence flourished between the two of you, not uncomfortable but not peaceful either. Your mind was curious about the four boys Yeosang used to know, mostly one, but weren’t sure on how to bring it up. “Seonghwa seems nice.” You mumbled to break it, Yeosang quickly agreeing.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot me.” He said, jokingly throwing his hands up in defense. “Don’t actually though, I’m too pretty to die.”

Laughing at his idiocy, you gathered yourself before asking a question your unsure will trigger him or not. You know he doesn’t love talking about Wooyoung, but you also think it’s going to be inevitable to avoid the subject now that he’ll be seen daily, even if you too would love to avoid it.

“What’s up with their group? I mean obviously I know enough about Woo- he who shall not be named, but what about the others? Are they just as bad as him?”

Yeosang suddenly froze at the question, one he had been expecting but not at this very moment. It was known that he hated confrontation and talking about his feelings, but you always encouraged him too, never pressuring him. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding before he began to explain.

“The tall one, Mingi, seems scary at first but warms up to people quickly if they impress him in some way. When he does warm up to people, he can be really sweet — he’s a little dumb though. Jongho is the shorter one that looks very serious, and he is but he’s definitely the friendliest of the four. The short time I knew them, he was the nicest by far even if he looks the meanest.” He paused for a second, turning to glance at the group.

“San is the dark haired boy that acts like he’s the leader, which to them when they’re not with the entire gang, he is. He was definitely the rudest, always trying to get rid of me in some way. He’s a complete fuckboy who uses girls constantly and humiliates them when he’s done with them, yet they still go crawling back to him. He’s the one that got… him… to join The Black Pirates in the first place.”

You watched the four boys mess around over Yeosang’s shoulder, grimacing at the stories he was telling about them. It was like San’s eyes were magnetic to yours, always seeming to meet your gaze any time you glanced in his direction, an arrogant wink and smug grin always following.

“Mrs Waltz decided on arranged seating this year,” You brought your attention back to Yeosang, who had sneakily stolen food off your plate before quickly discarding it into his mouth. “I have to sit next to San for the entire year, she said no exceptions.”

“I’m sure that went over well with Yunho.” Yeosang scoffed, the joke laced with a seriousness that was easy to pick up. Knowing and having experienced the wrath of Yunho’s jealousy himself, he had already noticed the tension in the gaze you shared with him earlier.

“Look, I’m not saying you have to avoid San completely, that’d be impossible, but do not get caught up with him.” The tone of his voice was intimidating, something you had never felt from Yeosang.

“Yeo, you don’t have anything to worry about.” You reassured him, holding his hand lightly and watching the concern on his face disappear for a second. “I would never cheat on Yunho, I love him.”

“And you can rub your relationship in that guy’s face and he wouldn’t care!” He snapped, keeping in a hushed voice to not gain any unwanted attention from surrounding tables. “You don’t understand how many relationships he’s ruined because of his stupid hypnotic fuckboy attitude.”

The thought of people ruining their relationships by cheating with San was shocking to you, almost unbelievable. But you heeded your friend's concerns and warnings, reassuring him once more that nothing would ever happen between you and Choi San.

Ever.

_________________________

San could feel the longing stares of the students scattered throughout the courtyard, the majority of stares from interested private school girls who had never experienced danger in their pathetic lives. He always enjoyed the attention, letting it feed his ego as more girls would line up for him. He had never been in an official relationship, only keeping a girl to call over at his will for a few weeks before moving on to the next and acting as if it never happened — an ongoing routine for him.

And of course, private school girls were desperate for his attention. They had never experienced someone like him before and curiosity got the best of all of them: most of them. Yes, he had watched as girls gawked at him with heart eyes as he strode through the school, but he seemed to be only interested in one set of eyes. One that seemed to catch his eye every time but not with adoration or lust, but with an unknown emotion to him. It intrigued him more than anything, wanting to know how long it would take to crack you and make you fall for him.

“God, what is this shit?!” Mingi grimaced, slamming his tray on the table and letting food splatter across it, some landing on Jongho who punched him in the arm roughly. San glared at the two boys before they continued their antics. “Is this serious what you used to eat every day, Wooyoung?”

“Unfortunately.” He huffed, lifting his fork and watched in disgust as pasta dropped back down onto his tray. He pushed it away from him, crossing his arms grumpily and leaning back against the wall. 

“Can’t believe I’m back in this shithole.”

Wooyoung hated this school, not only because of the classes or the teachers, but because of the memories that he had created here. He hated the fact that every spot he looked, he was reminded of the friendship that was destroyed by himself Yeosang. From the hallways, to the classrooms, to the bleachers they used to sit under and each lunch together: everything held a memory that drugs could never make him forget.

San glanced over at his friend, following the death glare that he sent towards three people sitting under a willowed cherry blossom tree, mostly directed at the dark red-haired boy. Wooyoung refused to talk about Yeosang, but the boys had met him a few times before they disassociated with each other. Though he would never admit it, San noticed how Wooyoung’s addiction became stronger once the friendship disconnected.

“One thing is good about this school,” Mingi chimed in, pulling San and Wooyoung’s attention away from their thoughts. “There’s a fresh group of hot private school chicks who would love to hook up with a Southside badass.”

“Don’t call yourself a ‘Southside badass’ when you get scared of a fake cockroach.” Jongho rolled his eyes teasingly at the taller boy, the two falling into their usual bickering and exchanging a few small punches to the arms and knuckles to the head.

San’s eyes were drawn back to where your small group sat, watching you intently as you smiled and laughed at whatever conversation the three of you were having. His eyes traced your body lightly before recognising the white hair of the boy next to you.

“Looks like Park Seonghwa has made friends with your ex.” San chuckled at Wooyoung, receiving a glare of daggers.

“He’s not my ex, dumbass.” Wooyoung growled, eyes rolling but subconsciously landing on the back of Yeosang’s head. “He’s just some lowlife I once knew, I couldn’t give a fuck who he’s friends with.”

San knew that was bullshit but didn’t push for anything more, the only curiosity of the group remaining on you. Considering you denied talking to him in your homeroom class, he didn’t get to know you but was fascinated by you. Being so used to girls throwing themselves at him left and right, when you did the opposite, it ignited a fire within him — a challenge.

“So, who’s the girl he hangs out with?” San asked, lifting an eyebrow at Wooyoung. He squinted his eyes at the question, already knowing where San was going with it.

“I don’t know, he didn’t know her when we were–” Wooyoung stopped himself, hoping San didn’t notice the slip up. “When we knew each other. Aren’t you sitting next to her in homeroom?”

“Yeah, she didn’t seem very interested in getting to know me.” San chuckled at the absurd statement, one that has never come out of his mouth before.

“I think she’s dating that tall blonde guy,” Wooyoung stated, gesturing toward the table that Yunho sat at. San glanced over at him, instantly taking a note of the touchiness he shared between another girl. 

“He kept mumbling shit under his breath about how you two were flirting the entire class, ‘said he reckons he could beat you in a fight. What a fucking loser.”

San scoffed at the thought of fighting the tall, blonde boy who was as slender as the slender man himself. He glared harshly at the boy before turning back to you, your eyes instantly connecting. With a wink sent your way, he watched as your eyes rolled in annoyance, but took more attention to the small creep of blush going to your cheeks. Even if you were ignoring or denying, he knew he had an affect on you, whether you liked it or not.

“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of getting with that bitch?” Wooyoung observed the eye that San had for you, annoyed that out of all the girls he could’ve chosen, it had to be the one connected to his ex friend. But he knew, once San made his mind up on something, there was no changing it.

“Jealous?” San cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Hell no, she’s not my type in the slightest.” Wooyoung hissed, the thought of you disgusting him.

“Too close to home for you, ay?” San taunted him, pushing all the right buttons to make him tick. He could feel the anger emitting from Wooyoung at his jokes before finally stopping.

Lunch continued quietly with a small tension, Wooyoung’s anger still present but aimed at the bickering of Mingi and Jongho. San blocked out the three of them, instead meeting the eyes of every girl who smiled and stared his way, their boyfriends sitting next to them with death stares on their faces: none of them intimidating enough for San to stop. The only thing distracting him was you, his eyes always seeming to drift back in your direction and always meeting the annoyed innocence in yours.

Whether it was him who stared first, or you, there was no denying it — a magnetic pull kept drawing you to each other.

_________________________

The rest of the school day went painfully slow, watching the hands on the clock tick from minute to minute yet it felt like an hour each time. In the corners of your notes showed the evidence of your boredom, small scribbles and drawings scattered over the pages in order to distract yourself from the repetitive dull voices of your teachers. Though he was sat right next to you once more, you hadn’t spoken to San since the early morning, trying to follow your best friend's warning and avoid conversation when possible. 

His eyes drifted from the window of the outside world to your notebook, watching you draw a small cat in the bottom left corner. A small smile grew on his face at the subtle innocence in the drawings that covered more of the page than general notes.

“Cute drawings,” He whispered in your ear, the warmth of his breath fanning across your cheek indicating how close he really was. “How did you know I liked cats?”

“It’s not for you, dumbass.” You retorted, you turned your body slightly to face away from him in an attempt to block him out, but the hint didn’t get received. Or maybe it did and he just ignored it, throwing it away like useless ads you get in your mailbox.

“Damn… feisty,” He whispered whilst reaching for a pencil from your case. Before you could stop him, he began writing something in the top corner closest to his reach: a series of numbers followed by a small winky face.

“What the hell is that?”

“My number, princess,” That stupid nickname slipping out as a familiar smirk curling onto his lips, one you would love to punch right off. “Give it a call sometime.”

Your face was masked with utter disbelief as you stared at the dark-haired boy. The confidence that he held with no fear of rejection was astonishing, but also impressive. He knew he could do that to any girl and they would call or text that number within seconds of them parting each other. Watching as you stared at him in shock, he cocked his eyebrow in a way that triggered you. This southside biker fuckboy really thinks you’re that easy, that desperate for his attention? Absolutely not.

“Give it to someone who’s interested, I'm happily taken.” You revealed, distracting yourself with your drawings once more.

“Are you sure?” The question made you snap your head back at him, that stupid shit-eating grin creeping onto his face as he examined your anger. “I mean, I haven’t seen the two of you talking since before the first bell., seems more preoccupied with his friend. Sounds like a very happy relationship to me.”

You wanted to punch him right is his perfectly chiseled jaw, because you knew he was right. It wasn’t a happy day for your relationship, and you’re starting to think there hasn’t been a happy day in a while, but you didn’t want to admit that to yourself. Anytime you think about all the jealousy, manipulation and straight up bullying you face from Yunho, it makes you question everything — until your brain reminds you of all the nice moments: buying you flowers randomly, romantic dates, the soft kisses the two of you share. It was hard to face the truth when you couldn’t differentiate which side was more of the reality.

And you had never had someone notice it, let alone confront you about it. Especially not someone you’ve known for a day.

“It’s fine, I-” You tried to gather your words but they kept scrambling, only two words making a sensible explanation. “Couple’s fight.”

San hummed in response before the final bell cut him off. 

Finally.

You scooped up all your belongings and made a hasty exit before he could continue talking to you. Seeing Yeosang standing next to your locker instantly calmed you down, the feelings towards San disappearing as soon as your best friend’s puppy face came into view. Organising your books into your locker, grabbing the homework teachers have already started handing out, the two of you left the building and made your way towards the car park.

As Yeosang’s car came into view, you noticed four polished motorbikes parked a few spots over before they were claimed by a group of leather-clad boys. All in a hurry to leave their new school, they threw their helmets over their heads and started the engines, the loud rumbles vibrating through the air and drawing attention from all directions. San spotted you standing next to the car, winking at you before flicking the visor of his helmet down and revving the engine, the boys speeding up and out through the school gates.

“What a bunch of douchebags.” A familiar voice scoffed as it grew closer, turning to see your boyfriend walking in your direction.

“Oh yeah, Yunho asked if I could give him a ride too.” Yeosang shrugged.

Looking up at him, Yunho’s dark brown eyes still managed to avoid yours but with slight hesitation that you happened to pick up on. The three of you loaded into the car, backing out of the parking lot and beginning the quiet journey home.

It was an uncomfortable atmosphere not just for you and Yunho, but for Yeosang too. Though he would always be on your side when an argument between the two of you occurred, he understood Yunho’s side a bit more than usual. The soft music that played in the background was the only distraction for you, though you could feel eyes from the backseat watching your every move. Yeosang pulled up in front of your house a few minutes later and bid the two of you goodbye, leaving Yunho here as well since his house was just a few houses down, driving off quickly to leave the two of you standing awkwardly on the sidewalk.

“Uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Yunho mumbled but before he could walk off, you tugged at his wrist and stopped him.

“Wait, we need to talk.” You said, eyebrows furrowing upwards. “Please.”

He turned around and looked at you, a displeased expression masking his face. He sighed loudly before crossing his arms at your desperation for communication.

“Yunho, you don’t have to-”

“Why did you let him flirt with you all day?” Yunho growled, stepping closer and towering himself over — another one of his tricks to assert his dominance over you. “Because you enjoyed it, right?”

“Wait, I tried to tell him-”

“Do you want to break up then? So you can go be with your new drug dealer boyfriend?” Yunho argued, refusing to let you explain yourself.

“What- of course not!” You eventually were able to get out. “I don’t care for him, I promise you. I tried to tell him to stop all day-”

“Sure you did.”

“I’m serious Yunho!” You cried, tears beginning to prick the corners of your eyes. This was something you were used to, him never listening or letting you explain anything. “I told him that I was yours and that I wasn’t interested. I promise you.”

He looked down at you, watching as tears threatened to fall down your cheeks. Reading the emotion in your eyes, his face softened, large hands cupping your cheeks before placing a soft apologetic kiss on your lips. You melted into his lips, hands instinctively wrapping around his waist before he disconnected. He held the back of your head and pulled you against his chest, placing a small kiss on your temple before resting his chin atop your head, a tear finally making it’s escape and soaking into his white button up.

“I’m sorry baby, you know how jealous I get.” Yunho apologised, placing another kiss on your forehead. “I’m just so worried to lose you.”

“You won’t” You muttered into his chest, looking up and being met with his kind eyes.

Moments like this reminded you that he was good, things in your relationship were good. With forgiveness set aside, Yunho walked you up to the front door, another soft kiss placed on your lips followed with an ‘i love you’ from his. You returned him with one before saying goodbye and entering your house with a sense of happiness from the day.

Walking through the house, your mother was nowhere to be found, so you retreated to the solitude of your room and flopped onto your bed with a heavy exhale. The sound of soft purs entered the room, your cat Latte, jumping up to your bed and instantly curling into your side, rubbing her head over your limp hand and demanding attention. First day back and you were already exhausted, drained from the school work and the social interactions. Though not all the day was bad: seeing your best friend and boyfriend again since the start of summer, meeting a new friend who seemed nice within seconds of a greeting — all you could think about though was that one boy.

That one dark-haired boy with the sharp features, always holding a smirk on his lips.

You knew you shouldn’t give him a second thought, not only because of Yeosang’s warnings but because of the overly cocky and arrogant behaviours he showed you within the first five minutes of meeting. But you couldn’t deny it, you were intrigued and you hated it. It’s not like you were in need of his attention or wanting to date him, but you were fascinated by him.

But you made a promise to the person closest to you. 

Do. Not. Get. Involved. With. Choi. San.

So you pulled out your phone and jotted it down in your notes, starting a tally of any time you failed your newest goal, your mission: avoid Choi San at all times.

A mission proved to be impossible.

. . . ⇢ next chapter

author's note chapter 2 is here !! i'm so sorry it's almost two days late, i have been so busy this week but i didn't want to rush this chapter ;-;

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written by planet-hwa™

[undiscovered-horizon]

Hi! I really enjoy your one piece writings, they have given me so much comfort when I don't feel okay 😭

Can I please get a Mihawk (I'm completely in love w this man aah) imagine where his wife is a sensitive person who gets sad when someone is rude to them but they feel insecure couse they think it's stupid

Thank youuuuuu ❤️🥺

First of all, I'm honoured that I can provide a source of comfort to you. I'm glad my work has made you feel better in your time of need.

Second of all: oh yessss bestie this hits the spot. It also reminds me of a wonderful scene in The Gentlemen (10/10, highly recommend) [it also hits close to home because I am a sensitive person]

The thing about strong people is that they make others want to be just as strong, which isn't always easy if even possible. You've always known you're a little 'softer' than most people but only after marrying Mihawk did you find the difference in temperament bothersome. Instead of considering your sensitivity a fact of nature, you've begun to find it a flaw, something that you should change about yourself.

You've never admitted it to yourself but the truth is plain and simple - you think it's embarrassing. That Mihawk will find your sensitivity embarrassing. Maybe if you had been up-front about it with your husband, you'd learn that he adores your soft heart. If he felt forthcoming enough, perhaps you'd even hear that you're the source of warmth and light in his life. Hence he calls you his 'sun'.

To say that Mihawk grew concerned when he heard your muffled sobs would be like not saying anything. A delicious euphemism at best. Anger and fear bubble inside his chest. There's a strange itch in his hands that eggs him to wreak havoc.

"Apple of my eye," his voice carries well through the rather empty room you're both staying at currently. "What is the meaning of this?"

Frantically wiping away your tears, you look over your shoulder to meet his gaze. Mihawk is leaning against the doorframe, blocking the entrance if you so wish to run away from this situation.

"Oh, it's nothing. Really, I'm alright. No need to worry," you half-heartedly attempt to reassure him.

The swordsman loudly exhales through his nose. He's your husband, worrying about you is his duty. In slow steps, Mihawk walks over to the edge of the bed where you're sitting. Pride and titles as if forgotten, he drops on one knee in front of you. One of his hands gently squeezes your knee.

Unsure what's the best way to go about these circumstances, you timidly meet his intense gaze. The passion in his yellow eyes makes you think of a maelstrom captured in a jar - something devastating held back by a miracle. He's already seething, just doesn't yet know who exactly to direct his violence at.

"Indulge me," he prompts you to confide in him. There's a rare sense of pleading in his tone.

So indulge him you do - you tell Mihawk all about the unpleasant encounter with a local tearaway. Your husband tries his best to control his expression as you recount the unambiguously offensive words, unwanted touches and threats of real violence coming from someone who was probably looking for a cowardly scapegoat to vent his anger. As you continue your story, tears just keep rolling down your cheeks, fear and humiliation finally finding their way out of your heart.

"I know I'm being stupid," you mumble as you clumsily wipe your face, "he was just rude and it's not like he actually hurt me but-"

Mihawk's touch makes you cut your sentence short. His hand, its skin rough and calloused, gently cups the side of your face. Your hot, salty tears disperse as his thumb slowly rubs them away. Something about the tenderness of his touch, of hands that have killed and maimed, is enough to make you feel like you're about to break in his arms. Even if you do, you know that when dawn breaks you will be whole again, put back together with the unending love Mihawk holds for you.

"You've always been too good, my sun," he tells you in a low voice. He could have said 'too soft' or 'too sensitive' but then his remark would come off as deceitful as it would suggest his dislike towards your nature. Nothing of that sort - Mihawk genuinely thinks you're a better person than most people walking this plane. And he'd rather succumb to torture than let anyone make you feel bad about that.

The man leans in and places his warm lips against your forehead. Without much effort, he lays you down on the bed and you let him. Even if you wanted to fight back, you're way too tired to do so.

He's sitting on the edge of the bed, caressing your face, neck, arms and back as he's waiting for you to fall asleep. The anticipation doesn't require much patience - Mihawk's tender touches lull you to peaceful slumber rather swiftly. When he's sure that you're asleep, he kisses your forehead again before cautiously leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Perhaps he can't turn back the time and make the offending man choke on his words but he can ensure that the tearway won't hurt you ever again. Someone resting in peace so you can rest peacefully is a good bargain.

Mihawk knows exactly who he's looking for. He made a note of a certain characteristic trait you had mentioned - an earring with a single, red-coloured feather. It doesn't seem like a piece of jewellery that would be common anywhere.

It doesn't take much to find the tearaway. He makes his presence well-known as he stumbles out of a tavern, his legs almost giving away with each step.

So he assaults random women minding their business and then gets blackout drunk. It's pathetic enough to consider his death merciful.

Staying true to his name, the swordsman stalks his prey before lunging. Appearing as another patron of the inn, Mihawk follows the stranger around the corner towards barns, stables and pigstys. Fitting place for the likes of him, Dracule thinks to himself.

The man with the curious earring staggers his way towards a drinking trough. He's fumbling with his pants, desperately trying to pull them down to relieve himself but his fingers are not dextrious enough.

Mihawk picks up the pitchfork leaning against the barn wall. In one, swift motion he gores the tool through the back of the man's knee. A guttural scream tears through the night as he falls to the ground.

The swordsman grabs a fistful of the tearaway's hair. He forces the kneeling man to look up into his seething, yellow eyes.

"Do I owe you money?" The man is slurring his words. He squints his eyes, trying to focus his hazy vision on Mihawk and, possibly, recognize his creditor. "It's money, isn't it? Shit, just give me two days, man. I'll give it back with interest."

"I don't care about money."

Instantaneously, panic appears in the tearaway's eyes. Did he just find himself in the same position he's put hundreds of people in to cure his own boredom and need for grandiosity?

"Then what it is?!" he shouts, fear settling in his viscera. Dracule's calmness put together with the sheer hatred emanating from him makes for a deeply unsettling impression.

"You hurt my wife," comes the answer. The fist clenching the man's hair tightens its hold further, threatening to tear off his scalp. "My wife," Mihawk growls.

But before the tearaway can ask for clarification, his head is forced into the drinking trough. Surprised and scared, oxygen is escaping him fast. Soon, his throat and chest begin to clench and throb painfully. Dark spots dance across his vision, foreboding blindness.

Then, Mihawk pulls his head just above the surface. The man desperately gasps for air.

"If you believe in a god," the swordsman begins in a low voice shaking with anger and adrenaline, "I suggest you start praying. Fast."

The tearaway's head is forced underwater again but this time, Mihawk keeps it there until the ruffian's body stops trembling and shaking. After that, Dracule waits for a while longer - just for good measure.

You're woken up by the creaking of doors as they slowly open. Blinking sleep away from your eyes, you look over your shoulder only to experience a sort of deja vu: Mihawk is standing in the doorway. Before you can ask about his strange behaviour, your husband makes his way to you in long, quick strides. He kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Mihawk takes your hand in his. He takes something out of his pocket and places it in your palm. You recognize the red feather earring immediately. And is that... a piece of skin still attached to it? Gently, your husband closes your fist and lifts your hand to place a chaste kiss on your knuckles.

"The rat has paid for its sins," he whispers to you. Judging by the intense look in his eyes, you don't want to know the details of this story.

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART TWO

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 2.2K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, unwanted groping, attempted SA, mentions of being roofied, mention of blood, physical violence, alcohol, clubbing, someone flashing a crowd, cussing

A/N ✦ I wrote part two a lot quicker than I thought I would, I'm actually really enjoying this story so far! Stay tuned for part three :)

PART ONE »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

“Would you get your head out of la-la-land and focus.”, Nat said, snapping her fingers in front of your face.

It had been three days since your interaction with Bucky, and you kept finding yourself daydreaming about him, wishing the handsome man would come back into the coffee shop soon.

“Sorry Nat.”, you said sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck.

Your friend stood in front of you in her bedroom, a tight purple dress clung to her figure.

“What do you think of this one?”

“You could wear a trash bag and still look amazing. But I think that I like the green one more.”, you said pointing to the silky cocktail dress she had tossed onto the bed next to where you sat. 

“Well then I guess green it is.”

The two of you were at your and Nat's shared apartment, readying yourselves to go out for your mutual friend Thor’s birthday party. Nat considered herself a clubbing queen, she loved to be the life of the party. You on the other hand would prefer to be at home. 

“Now little-miss-wallflower.”, Nat said pointing to you, “We need to put together something for you to wear.”

She had you try on outfit after outfit, repeatedly saying none of them had that oomph she was going for. 

“Nat can I just wear this?”, you pleaded with her, gesturing to the long black bodycon dress she had put you in.

“No, that's not fitting the image I have in my head.”, she said, ruffling through the closet. 

“And what exactly is that image?”

“I want a sexy, bold, outgoing vibe.”

“You know that being bold and outgoing aren’t exactly my thing, right?”

“Exactly, you need to get out of your comfort zone Y/N, live a little.”

After several more outfit changes Nat finally found the perfect ensemble. A red-wine colored dress adorned your body. Its neckline dipped dangerously low, reaching below your sternum and the bottom of the garment barely hit mid-thigh. 

“Isn’t this a bit much?”, you asked, looking yourself up and down in the mirror. 

“Not in my opinion.” she shrugged, “But anyways you look amazing so I say this is it.”

Staring at yourself again, you did have to admit the dress did make you feel hot. 

“Okay fine, you win, I’ll wear this.”

Nat smiled from ear to ear, “Amazing! Now let’s finish getting ready.”

You added a pair of black heels to your outfit, straightened your hair, and Nat had helped you do a smokey eye for your makeup. After an hour of getting ready, the two of you were walking out the front door and heading downstairs to wait for your Uber. 

After the quick car ride, you and Nat found yourselves outside a club, a bright blue neon sign reading Supernova sat above the front door. Both of you joined the line to get in. Once you reached the front, the bouncer checked your ID’s and stamped your hands with a shooting star that lit up under the flashing lights. 

You scanned the club, glancing over the horde of people, before your eyes finally found who you were looking for. Grabbing Nat’s hand you pulled her behind you in the direction of your friends.

“Y/N! Nat!”, Thor cheered seeing the two of you approaching. 

“Hi Thor! Happy Birthday!”, you yelled over the booming music, giving him a hug.

You then greeted your other friends; Wanda, and Clint. The group sat at a table near one of the many small stages scattered about the club. Each of the platforms had girls dancing on them. Your eyes quickly looked away as one of them took off her top, cheers erupting from the group of men standing below her. You felt beyond out of your element. 

“You look like you’re about to jump out of your skin Y/N.”, Clint chuckled at you.

You shrugged at him, “I think I just need to get a drink in me. I’ll be right back.”

Walking away from your friends you snaked your way through the throng of people dancing, reaching the bar. 

The bartender, a girl with bright pink hair and several facial piercings, turned from the man she was talking to, yelling from the other end of the bar top, “Be with you in just a second!”

You nodded at her, looking up at the chalkboard menu sitting above many shelves of alcohol. Your eyes scanned over the neon pink chalk settling on the special for the night. 

Tonight's Special: Midnight Whisper

⛦ vodka, blue curacao, grenadine, sprite, edible glitter

⛦ $11

You leaned up against the bar, studying your surroundings while you waited. Couples were dancing a little too close for comfort, there was a group of girls circling around one of their friends as she threw up in a trashcan by the dancefloor, a group of frat boys sang along to the music blasting through the club. 

As your eyes glanced at the V.I.P. area, they widened in shock. Bucky sat in the corner, surrounded by Steve and a few more men. You locked eyes with him and he raised his glass towards you, shooting you a smile. 

“What can I get for you?”

You jumped in surprise, turning to see the bartender. 

“Can I get a Midnight Whisper?”

“Of course, that’ll be $11.”

Reaching inside your purse your fingers wrapped around your wallet, pulling it out to pay. 

“I’ve got it.”, a voice said from behind you.

You looked over your shoulder seeing a man you didn’t know behind you. 

“It’s okay really.”, you said.

“No, I’ve got it sexy, a lady with a body like yours shouldn’t have to pay.”, he smirked down at you.

He handed the bartender some cash.

“Um thank you.”, you said flatly.

“No problem, smoke show, I’m Caleb, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”, you grumbled, not meaning it at all, but trying to be polite because he just bought you a drink. 

“Here you go girly.”, the pink haired girl slid you your cocktail.

Caleb slid his arm around your shoulders, hand lingering over your drink. You were looking at his face as he did this, trying to figure out how to get out of this situation.

Reaching for your drink, you turned away from him, “Thanks for the drink, I’ve got to get back to my friends now, they’re probably wondering where I went.”

Caleb’s hand shot out, gripping your bicep, “What do you mean you’ve got to go back to your friends? I just bought that for you, can’t you stay and at least talk to me for a bit?”

“First of all,let go of me.”, you hissed yanking your arm out of his grip, “And secondly I tried to pay for my own drink, but you insisted, I said thank you for it, but that doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”

You turned and weaved back through the crowd towards your friends. 

As you approached Nat raised an eyebrow at you.

“What’s got you in such a sour mood.”, she said, studying your visibly pissed expression. 

“Some dude bought my drink for me and acted like I owed him a conversation because of it.”, you rolled your eyes.

“I would be irritated too.”, Wanda said from beside you.

You laughed, “Anyway enough about that weirdo, guess who I just saw Nat?”

“Who?”

Grinning, you said, “That Bucky guy from work the other day!”

“Oh my God!”

“Who’s Bucky?”, Wanda asked.

You filled your friend in on the handsome man. 

“Why don’t you go ask for his number?”, Clint said, eavesdropping on your conversation.

“Because he’s in the V.I.P area, and I don’t have the balls to do it.”, you laughed out, taking a sip of your drink. 

Just then Thor appeared, having come from the dancefloor.

“Come on guys let's go dance!”, he yelled.

He grabbed your hand pulling you with him, the rest of your group following behind.

As you guys danced and drank, you began to feel weird. Your head was pounding and you were hit with a wave of nausea. 

“I don’t feel good.”, you whispered to Nat, and you rushed to the bathrooms. 

“Hey wait-”, she called after you.

You disappeared into the crowd leaving Nat behind, as you stumbled through bodies, your vision began to get blurry leaving you a disoriented mess. There was no way that one drink had done this to you.

Finally you reached the hallway in the back of the club that led to the bathrooms. You shakily leaned up against the wall, dragging yourself along the cool cinder blocks towards the ladies room. Suddenly you found yourself pushed up against the wall, your back smacking it so hard you almost felt the wind rush out of your lungs.

“Hi beautiful.”, Caleb jeered at you. 

“What-”, you slurred out, tongue feeling heavy.

He cut you off, covering your mouth with his hand, moving your lolling head back. His other hand settled on the back of your thigh, slowly creeping its way up, his fingers digging into your ass cheek. Your body was like Jell-O, you couldn’t move, leaving you defenseless. You felt tears begin to well in your eyes as you looked up at him. 

Next thing you knew Caleb was lying flat on his back a few feet away and you crumpled sliding down the wall to the ground, your legs unable to support yourself.

“What the hell man!”, Caleb screamed, a cut to the side of his head had blood cascading down his face.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing.”, someone said.

You looked up at your savior, realizing it was the same man who had generously tipped you the other day. 

“Oh what so a guy can’t feel up his girlfriend anymore?”, Caleb lied.

“Sweetheart,” Bucky said looking down at you, “Is this guy your boyfriend?”

“No.”, you gurgled out.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about! The bitch is just drunk!”, Caleb yelled as he stood up. 

Bucky however knew that wasn’t the case. You were obviously out of it, but not from alcohol, you gave away the tell tale signs of being roofied. 

After he saw you at the bar, he had been watching you. He saw your interaction with Caleb, almost getting up after the man had grabbed you, but relaxed when he saw you could handle it on your own. However when he saw you stumbling off towards the bathrooms and Caleb stalking after you, he stood up and followed the two of you, ignoring Steve asking him where he was going. 

He had entered the hallway just as the slime ball had groped you, and without thinking, Bucky decked him in the head. In all honesty Bucky hadn’t felt this angry in a while. It pissed him off to no end, seeing Caleb taking advantage of you, the shy and sweet barista he had just met the other day. 

“Y/N, oh my God what the hell happened?”, Nat appeared at the end of the hallway. 

“This jackass drugged her.”, Bucky growled, nodding in Caleb's direction.

Nat moved towards the aforementioned jackass, but was stopped by Bucky putting his arm out.

“Let me deal with him. Get her up to the V.I.P area, let Steve know what happened.”

Nodding Nat moved down to the ground, throwing your arm around her shoulder and dragging you upwards. You stumbled as the two of you walked back down the hallway, out into the club. Looking back over your shoulder you saw Bucky nearing Caleb, rolling the sleeves of his dress shirt up. 

Hazily you remember Nat heaving you to the V.I.P section. Steve immediately recognized the pair of you from the other day, and he jumped up helping Nat carry you to one of the couches. While they did so Nat explained the situation to him. 

“Tony go get her some water.”, Steve told one of the other men that had been sitting with him. 

The dark haired man turned and headed towards the bar with urgency. 

“Y/N, Nat are you guys okay?”, you heard Clint shouting from the velvet rope sectioning off the V.I.P area from the rest of the club.

“Are those your friends?”, Steve asked looking at the group that had gathered. 

“Yeah they are.”, Nat said. 

“Hey guys let them up here.”

One of the security guards by the rope lifted it up and allowed your friends through. 

“You know that guy from earlier she said was weird? Somehow he drugged her.”, Nat said to your friends.

“Where’s he at? What's he look like? I'm going to go kick his ass.”, Thor stated, turning to head back down to the dancefloor and hunt down Caleb. 

“Someone else already beat you to it.”, Nat said pointing to Bucky who had returned from the hallway.

“Sam, Scott, can the two of you go get the mess in the hallway cleaned up?”, Bucky asked as he neared everyone. 

“Gotcha.”, Sam nodded.

“What’d you do kill him?”, Nat asked gob smacked.

“No, just taught him a lesson about keeping his hands to himself.”, he said as he picked up a cocktail napkin from one of the tables, wiping blood off his knuckles. 

Your vision started blurring again and the ringing in your ears drowned out any other sounds. The last thing you remember was Bucky looking at you worriedly before you finally passed out. 

PART THREE

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

[lynk-zee]

hey lynnie,

Ok so there's this tweet "(my gf can) dress slutty I can fight" by a guy right. I don't necessarily think he means dress slutty on purpose but like if his gf wants to express her fashion in a more sensual way, he supports and defends her right to do so. Could you do a scenario where MC/reader know she looks good and flaunts it and the lads don't mind? They're also willing to step in and remind any entitled creep to stay in their place. I'm really curious to see Rafayel's thoughts on this but all would be great.

“Dress Slutty, I Can Fight.”

Rafayel always wants you to feel good about yourself. He’ll buy you lavish jewelry, designer clothes, and ask you to give him a fashion show so he can see them on you. That being said, fashionable clothes sometimes is less about the type of fabric and more about the lack there of. And he’s here for it! He walks with you on his arm with pride, wearing whatever you want, flaunting your assets, and strutting your stuff. He thinks you’re gorgeous, like a work of art! And art is meant to be admired.

Though, when it comes to creeps checking you out longer than appropriate, he gets a bit protective. If he notices someone checking out your ass in that skimpy little outfit of yours, he cop a squeeze, smirking right at the perp. As if saying “look what I have that you don’t”

If his glare doesn’t deter the creep from looking at you, Rafayel will call him out in front of everyone.

“Do you mind? I know my partners hot as fuck but keep your eyes to yourself, damn!”

Usually it doesn’t escalate from there, the perp feeling thoroughly embarrassed from being called out like that in public. But if it does, Rafayel will handle it.

“It’s okay, babe. I can fight”

Zayne absolutely loves spoiling you with the money he makes as a surgeon. Which mostly consists of clothes! Whatever you want, just point and he’ll get you it every color. Absolutely loves when you dress however you want. His main goal in life is for you to live as comfortably as possible. So if looking all dolled up in pretty makes you happy, go for it!

When you’re dressed up, he’d always have his hand on the small of your back, guiding you this way and that under his careful watch. He’s gotta keep his baby safe. If someone is staring at you for two long, they’d be frozen solid by Zayne’s evol.

Just kidding. More like frozen solid by his icy glare. Much like Rafayel, Zayne would make it public because he knows that most people will get intimidated by a large crowd.

“Could you not stare at my partner? We are trying to enjoy our night out.”

If the creeps too persistent, he’ll clench his jaw and place his jacket on you.

“Sorry, dear— could you give me a moment? That man over there seems like he wants to talk.”

Zaddy

In all seriousness, Zayne really wouldn’t resort to violence because he has standards to uphold. But he definitely would stand his ground and tell the creep off. Your comfort is his utmost priority. He won’t let some filth make you feel self-conscious.

Xavier’s all for your slutty era. You look beautiful, he’s enjoying the view, it’s a win-win in his books. What he doesn’t enjoy is the amount of unwanted attention you garner when you dress up. Yes, it’s not your fault that you’re beautiful, he would never fault you for that. He’s just sick of the guys staring as if they have the right to. Absolutely not.

So, he marks the shit out of you. Your neck is covered in hickeys, branding you as his. They can look all they want, but with his arm around your waist and his marks on your neck, you’re his and his only. Wear less, he doesn’t care. He’ll just make sure his hand print on your ass peaks out from under your shorts.

If it gets too bad, we know Xavier would step in right away to stop it. He’s pretty blunt without meaning to, so when it’s intentional—sorry to any guy who even breathes in your direction. Sometimes you have to step in though because you know it’s game over if Xavier swings. But Xav will always protect you, so dress however you want. He just wants you to be happy.

“Ignore those creeps, my love. I’ll take care of it.

[postcardsfromheapside]

When you complain "if only X character had writers who loved them," what do you mean? 

Like what you do actually mean. 

I'm about to go on a rant about a particular character I see this about MOST, but this question is definitely not limited to him - I've seen it about multiple characters.

What is it you want from Anders and the writers. Because what it feels like from the posts where I see this phrase, is that people wanted Anders to be avenged in DA:I, or even Veilguard - for some of the characters to admit that maybe he was correct. Or maybe for there to be codex entries, SOMETHING that would hint that the mad apostate who blew up the chantry was justified. 

Except Dragon Age isn't like that. 

This entire series is about people who do awful things because they think they had a reason to do them, and sometimes those awful acts are completely understandable and maybe you can even justify them in context, but that in no way means that the in-world characters *have* to forgive anyone for anything, and the writers don't have to write them that way, no matter how they feel about the character. 

(I already have heard shitty things about Anders' writer, so before you @ me, please know, I'm composing this A of all, already understanding that context and B, also knowing that sometimes writers create characters who give offense on purpose, and that it's okay to like those characters without justifying their actions. Solas, anyone?) 

It's actually really frustrating as someone who is an Anders fan to see people whine "oh, if only he had a writer who loved him" as if he isn't a well-written character. 

The man is obsessive, annoyingly focused on his goals, constantly leaving bits of his unwanted manifesto everywhere. He's shitty to Fenris (although Fenris starts a lot of it and gives as good as he gets), and he probably deserved the moniker Broody as much as Fenris did. He's harsh to Merrill and quite often an unprompted asshole to Aveline. He's also incredibly kind and compassionate, and really does spend almost all of his free time living his truth: trying to save mages from terrible treatment which is only growing worse - most of which we do not see on-screen so shallow viewing doesn't make it seem quite as bad as he claims. He also freely gives of his healing talents, regardless of who comes asking, at great personal risk. Whatever you say about him, you can't claim he doesn't live what he says he believes. And then there's the fact that he's actually quite funny, and when his "moods" aren't on him, his banter with Varric and Merrill especially is very cute, hinting that there's a different person inside of him, had he not gone through everything he had since Awakening (maybe even before). If you romance him, he's passionate and caring and weirdly funny with Hawke as well, two freaks who "get" each other. 

Strange that I've managed to pull all of this out of someone who apparently the writers "didn't love", this rounded character who has multiple facets to him. 

No one in DA:I is required to forgive Anders, regardless of which storyline you take. Varric sees him as the man who blew up a portion of "his" beloved city, who got a LOT of people killed, and maybe effectively exiled his friend. Cassandra and Leliana, for all their wishes to reform the chantry, still believe in the chantry as an institution. Vivienne still believes in the circles. Solas doesn't give a flying fuck about that guy - mage freedom isn't really on his mind, except in that he's pretending to be an apostate until he sheds his disguise. Who were you expecting to exonerate Anders, exactly, with their own limited perspectives? 

To be honest, I wouldn't have forgiven him either, except in that I too have lived in a world where people's rights were slowly being stripped away by an unempathetic crazy person and the governing body that could have stopped the clown in office collectively sat back and in the end did fuck all about it. 

You're meant to think about these things, just like you're meant to think about the stuff going on in Veilguard on which people have been posting metas. Is Bioware ham fisted at this commentary? 100% But it's there. Otherwise I wouldn't have seen so many good character analyses of Anders (and other characters I've seen this complaint about). 

"If only he had writers who loved him" my sibling in Thedas they did their job, you're out here on this cloutless website crying into the void about your favorite little guy. Now go figure out why you need him to be a hero within the story itself, instead of him existing as he is and you thinking about how many people have flawed or shaded perspectives about the people who try, in different and sometimes awful ways, to change history.

[thinkerer24]

Kinda self indulgent cause, uh, I'm a writer and I can do that lmao.

SFW. angst, author projecting her own insecurities into a fictional character because she wishes she had a big, strong man to hold her close right now. Whatevs.

You hate fighting. Hate how your throat clams up and your eyes start stinging even though you don't want to cry; at least not in front of people. You'd rather wait till you're in the comfort of your room to break down, honestly. It doesn't help that you're creating the fight in your head- not really in a genuine altercation. You don't have the balls to confront her, to be honest, your best friend of 7 years. But it still hurts because you know what she's going to say- you're overthinking this, I didn't mean to do it, it's all in your head, come on, don't be like that. You don't know how to- so you make up the scenario and make yourself sad. It's pathetic, really. Childish.

Simon sees right through you, of course he does. He comes up cautiously when you get like this- staring off into the distance with your palms clenching the edge of the bed and your toes curled up in a gnarly way- Simon usually has to ease the tension in your feet and massage the pain away most nights because your heightened anxiety makes you subconsciously do that. It's not like you want to- your brain never really listens, though, does it?

He slides his broad palm across your back and you're broken from your reverie, taking a deep sigh and looking at him.

"Relax your toes, sweetheart."

You look down and see your feet curled into a C, the tiny toes clenched so hard the tips are almost white. You nod and slowly ease them, the sudden blood flow making you wince. Your joints hurt now. Shit.

"She said she wanted me there, Si. I fought my parents for that trip, you know that. I fought and cried and begged my father to let me go to Indonesia, to meet her, because she said she wanted me there. He paid for the whole thing, wanted me happy. She said she wanted me but when I was there she was so- cold. Si, it was like she was a whole different person. She didn't want to make any plans, didn't make an itinerary, didn't help in making one, didn't put in any effort- i felt like such a fucking burden. It's like she hated the idea of me there, but, but Si, she said she wanted me, I-

He stops your rambling with a soothing caress over your hair, shuffling closer to your body. You were shaking slightly with anger, rage, sadness, a mix of everything, and it made him break.

"Now she's called a bunch of our friends to her house. In Indonesia. Without me, but okay, that's fine, but she created the entire plan. She made the entire schedule. She planned everything, down to the last detail. They're calling it the "best trip ever". Wh-why would she do that?"

"Why does it feel like no one wants me around?" Your voice breaks and Simon can't help himself anymore.

"I do," he states softly. "I want you around all the time."

You look at your hands and find yourself picking at the loose skin around your nail bed. Your vision blurs due to the tears clumping your eyelashes and you nod. "I know, Simon."

You sit in silence for a while, Simon's large hands engulfing you in a hug and you rest your head against his bicep, comforting you as always.

"I don't know what kind of friends you have, but I won't ever let you feel unwanted. I promise. People suck. I could go on and on and on but it's the big and the small of it. Let go of it all. I'm here with you, I'm here for you. Always." He whispers against your ear and you finally let out the sob you'd been holding in your chest. You don't know why this stupid thing affected you so much but after being second citizen for so long it felt so so good to feel wanted, feel needed by someone. Like you're the first choice. You close your eyes and breathe in his scent. Maybe he's right. Maybe it'll be okay.

[k0juki]

Pleaseee…please write something with ski aggu…we’re starving vro⛩️

He is so fckng fine ❤️😏

Friends don't do that

Ski Aggu x reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner! Not edited!

A/n: little midnight surprise 💙

Wc: 1.2k

---

Being in the same friend group with a person you absolutely adore and can't take your eyes off, is really, really hard. And it's even worse when that person is your best friend, Aggu. He is simply gorgeous.

Sometimes it was hard to watch him interact with so many women and men. They threw themselves at him, but you couldn't blame them. Who wouldn't do that?

"Are you jealous?" You asked, as the unwanted stranger left after Aggu remarked that you didn't want to grab some drinks with that guy. You were at some lame party and this guy was trying to know you a bit, but he didn't stand a chance. There was Aggu to stop that.

"What? Me? No, never." He muttered and wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you more into his side. It was strange to see him like that. To keep you by his side all the time. Keeping you to himself, but you didn't mind at all. You were glad that it was you who he wanted beside him and not some random person.

"Hmm, right. So you wouldn't mind if I'll go get something to drink, right?" You knew you caught him here. Maybe he wasn't jealous, but he still didn't want you to leave him. Without other questions you stood up, but before you could go anywhere, Aggu asked you.

"Where are you going?"

"Just to the toilet, don't worry. I'm not going to that weirdo." You loved to mess with him. To rile him up a little.

"Oh, okay."

As you disappeared from their sights, Joost immediately turned to look at his friend and said.

"Man, you're smitten." Joost remarked, smirking. Seeing how his friend was acting around you.

"What are you talking about?" His red face and ears were a sign that he was lying.

Joost knew that. On the other hand, he hoped that he will make a move and told you as soon as possible. If he won't, there will always be someone who will do that.

"C'mon don't pretend, well, at least not in front of me."

Aggu sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand, obviously in distress. He knew he couldn't keep something like that a secret. "Is it that obvious?"

"For me? Yes, it is."

"Shit."

"You gotta tell her. She won't be single forever..." Joost urged, and he was right.

"I know, but what if I'm not her type? Or she'll say something like I wanna stay friends, sorry." This sentence really scared him. He would rather be forever friends with you, then destroying something that could be one-sided.

"She won't. She's literally just as smitten as you are." Joost insisted, trying to calm him down.

But before Aggu could say something, you came back with a smile on your pretty face. You sat back down in your seat next to Aggu. He wrapped his arm back around your shoulders, as it was before.

"What were you guys talking about?" You innocently asked and looked at Aggu, then at Joost and then back at Aggu. Feeling him tense a bit, you frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." He answered with a dry laugh and rubbed his hand on your shoulder in resurance.

You gave him a strange look, but didn't ask more. If he wanted to tell you something, then he would. "Okay...but why are you both acting so weird?"

"We're not." They answered at the same time. Aggu sent a warning look to Joost. Telling him to stop it, immediately.

You spent the rest of the evening in Aggu's and Joost's company. But the longer you stayed here, in the center of the party, the more you wanted to go home. It was getting too noisy and you didn't want your head hurt that much the next day.

"Are you okay?" Aggu asked, realizing how quiet you became.

"Yeah, my head just hurts a bit from that loud music."

"Do you wanna go home?"

You just nodded your head yes. Feeling tired all of sudden.

Aggu didn't need to be told twice. You and him said your goodbyes to Joost and left.

You knew he wouldn't leave you alone, so there wasn't even a point in persuading him to stay at the party.

"It was fine. I'm glad I went." You told him, sending a smile his way. He returned the gesture, sending you one right back.

"Yeah, me too."

Normally you didn't mind that awkward silence, but this time it felt different. Like both of you wanted to say something, but neither of you could bring yourself to say it.

"Do you, perhaps, want to sleep over at my place tonight?" Aggu asked and reached his hand for yours.

"Yeah, I would like that." You answered him and took his hand. Many times before you had slept over his place. Because that's what best friends do, right? They are everywhere together. They do everything together.

---

"I prepared some clothes for you to change into."

"Thank you Aggu." You took his clothes from him and made your way to the bathroom to shower and then change.

He gave you one of his boxers and white shirt with Bambi on it. It is one of your favourite ones, and he knows that. It was too big for you, but you really didn't mind, it smelled like him. Maybe that's why you liked it that much.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and thought how you actually ended up here. In this situation.

Sighing, you left the bathroom and noticed that Aggu was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone. When he noticed you, he put his phone down. He had to say that he loved to see you in nothing, but his clothes.

"Aggu." You said with a small smile as he kept on staring.

"Aggu." Still nothing, but you could see how his mouth was turning up to a little smile.

"Aggu." You looked down on your feet, feeling hot in the face as he was staring at you.

"I love when you say my name."

You raised your head and made eye contact with him. He was looking right into your eyes.

"You do?"

"I do."

He stood up and made his way towards you. Still holding eye contact, neither of you breaking it. Stepping closer, he carefully put his hands on your hips and said.

"Friends don't look at each other like we do..."

"And we are friends?" You asked, looking into his eyes.

"I'm hoping to be something more..." Aggu admitted. Waiting for your protests, but you didn't say anything.

You put your left hand on the back of his neck, softly running your fingers through the ends of his hair and other hand on his jaw. Leaning closer to him, but keeping safe distance if he didn't want to kiss you back.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked and licket his lips. His focus full on you. "One little kiss won't change our friendship, right?"

"Yeah, you're probably right."

He leaned in and kissed you.

His hands that were on your hips pulled you closer. He pushed you against the cold wall behind you, making goosebumps swarm all over your body. He traced your curves with his hands as he deepened the kiss, nibbling on your lower lip. Your hands gripped the back of his head, as his hands squeezed and teased you, as you moaned into the kiss.

You break apart after a few seconds. A smile on both of your faces as you breathed.

"I love that taste of you." Aggu admitted and dipped his head lower and started kissing your neck. "I love it.”

---

Don't copy or translate my work!

[multiversefanfics]

Girl Of My Dreams (Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warning: maybe some cussing? angst, then fluff again Summary: Summary: You work at a small diner down the street from the compound which Bucky visits often, so often that you remembered his order, but things got a little shaken up when Sharon puts her unwanted opinions in it. Word Count: 1,679

You haven’t talked to Bucky in months. every time he comes into the diner, you serve him and that’s it. He tries to talk to you, but you tell him you’re busy even if he’s the only one in the diner. It’s not his fault that Sharon said what she said, he can’t control what comes out of other people’s mouths, but the whole “75 girlfriends” comment really got to you. He was a very attractive man, so does he actually go out and pick up girls all the time? Is he a player? A lot is going on, and you have enough to worry about.

Bucky, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never felt like this about anyone before, he doesn’t want to lose you, but he knows giving you space may be the right thing to do he doesn’t listen to himself, he keeps trying although you two didn’t know each other for that long Bucky knew that you were the one for him. When he first showed you his arm, you were intrigued. you asked many questions about it, and he had no problem answering them.

Bucky has never experienced that type of reaction when he told people about his arm, you didn’t make him feel like a robot or that he didn’t belong you made him happy and Steve and Sam saw that, but of course, Sharon had to go and fuck that up. Bucky stays in his room and only leaves to get food and go to the gym and every time Sharon comes around, he leaves even if he’s in the middle of a conversation and everyone understands they even warn him when she’s about to arrive, so he’s not caught off guard, which Bucky rarely is. There was a soft knock at Bucky’s door

“Hey, Buck we were gonna go get some food do you want to come?” No answer.

Sam and Steve shared a look and continued on their way, Bucky knew where they were going and after the last time, he was at the diner it was probably best he didn’t go with them.

A short time has passed, and Steve and Sam are at the diner and of course, they are in your section, you walk over and exchange greetings, you’re at work you have to pretend you’re happy.

“Y/N, please talk to Bucky; he doesn’t leave his room, and he feels bad about what Sharon said.” You sighed slightly and rolled your eyes a bit.

“Why doesn’t he contact his 74 other girlfriends?” Sam chuckled and looked you dead in your face,

“There are no 74 other girlfriends, Bucky isn’t the type to do that, hell, I’m surprised at how good he was with you. Bucky is a loner, he’s over 100 years old with no practice when it comes to women, trust us.” Sam’s eyes went from super serious to pleading,

“Why should I trust you guys? You’re his best friends, you could be covering for him.” You crossed your arms over your chest and stared

"You don't have to, but think about it. Would we really be okay with that type of behavior?" You shrugged your shoulders.

"I don't know what men think, but I'll think about it. I have to get back to work can you guys stay a bit and give me a ride?" They both nodded and you went to continue your shift.

You had plans to talk to Bucky about what was said, you just didn't know what you were going to say, and you didn't know what he was going to say. Finally, your shift was over, and you met up with the guys.

"Okay, I'm ready to talk to him." The three of you walked over to Sam's car.

Steve opened the front passenger door for you and shut it after you were comfortably in the car, he got in the back, and Sam drove to the compound. A short drive later, you're outside the compound. You take a deep breath and follow them inside. Steve showed you to Bucky's door, and you took another deep breath and knocked on the door.

"Go away, Steve!" You could hear his voice crack from the other side of the door which made your heart break in half

"It's not, Steve." You heard rapid movement, and the door opened to reveal a very tired and sad Bucky.

Your heart is now shattered. You did this to him, you hurt him. Well, Sharon did but you felt somewhat to blame.

"Hi, Bucky." He blinked a few times and just stared

"Y/N..." You rubbed your arm

"Can we talk?" He nodded and moved to the side so you could walk in.

His room was dark and a mess. You didn't know Bucky that well, but you knew he wasn't a messy person at all. You sat on the edge of his bed and watched him walk over and sit next to you

"Listen Bucky, I am very sorry for ignoring you, that comment really messed me up I like you a lot and I know I shouldn't have let her get in my head but that was the first time we hung out and to hear that I didn't know who to believe, I've been hurt before." You fiddled with your fingers while you tried to figure out what to say next.

He saw your hands and gently took them into his.

"I have never felt like this in my life, you bring out the best in me even if we only hung out once, the moment I saw you, I knew you were the one for me, and you confirmed it when I showed you my arm most people look at me and treat me differently, you don't and I appreciate that so much I cannot lose you."

You looked over at Bucky and smiled softly "You're not going to lose me, I'm here." He brought your hands up and kissed both of them

"By the way, I don't have 74 other girlfriends, I'm really hoping to have 1, that is if you want to." You smiled again and nodded,

"Of course, I would love to." He pulled you into a hug, sighing with relief

"You already make me so happy." You pulled back softly, pecking his nose

"Now, why don't we clean up this room and go downstairs and I make us some food" He smiled and nodded his head.

You walked over to the windows, opening the curtains to finally let some light into the room. After cleaning Bucky's room for about an hour, you both go downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Alright, what do you want to eat?” Bucky sat at the island and watched you look around the kitchen.

“What can you make?” You leaned against the counter and started naming things you could make.

“Ooh chicken alfredo sounds good” You smiled and started getting all the ingredients out, you looked back at Bucky who was just admiring you

“Wanna help?” He nodded excitedly and stood up to come help.

“Okay, so what do you need me to do?” You looked around for the easiest task you reached over and handed him a pot

"Fill this up with some water, maybe about halfway, maybe a little more." Bucky can't mess up filling a pot with water, can he?

"Is this good enough?" You nodded and instructed him to put it on the stove.

While you were cutting up the chicken you figured the water would be boiling but nope, he never turned the stove on, you giggled to yourself and turned the stove on when he wasn't paying attention. The two of you laughed and cooked. Finally, you were done and ready to eat, you both sat down, and Bucky looked down at his plate in amazement

"This looks amazing." The two of you sat there in silence, enjoying the wonderful meal that you two prepared together, when in walks Sharon. You look up in disgust as she walks into the kitchen

"Hey, one of Bucky's girlfriends is here. Do the others know not to come by?" You could feel your blood boiling again and just as you were about to speak, Bucky spoke up instead

"What the fuck is your problem?" Sharon looked at Bucky, shocked by what he said, but she stood firm.

"I just want her to know how much of a player you are." You rolled your eyes and continued eating. It seemed like Bucky had this handled, so you sat back and watched.

"Y/N is my one and only girlfriend, and it's about time you respect her and me and everyone else in this compound." At this point, Bucky is now standing and staring straight into Sharon's eyes.

Sharon takes a step closer to the island. "Do you really want to go there with me Bucky?" Bucky walked around the island and stood firmly in front of Sharon.

Now it was time for you to step in. You walked up behind Bucky and gently grabbed his right arm.

"It's not worth it, baby." You felt Bucky's arm relax and he slowly turned his head to look at you

"You're right, Doll. Let's go continue our dinner in the living room." Bucky picks up your plates and walks into the living room.

He sets them down on the coffee table and stands there with his hands on his hips.

"Actually, you know what, I have one more thing to say, then I'm done." He turned around to face Sharon and took a deep breath

"Ever since Steve stopped fucking you, you've been the biggest bitch imaginable, but one thing you are absolutely not going to do is, disrespect Y/N. You don't even know her and honestly, I would love to keep it that way so pack your shit and get out."

Both you and Sharon stood there shocked. You never expected Bucky to say anything like that, that was the moment you realized you had found the one for you.

Main Masterlist - Bucky Barnes Masterlist - Part 1

A/N: I really hope you guys like it; I tried my best to make it good for you guys. feedback is definitely appreciated along with constructed criticism, please the more the better. Tell me how I can make it better for you guys to read. :)

Tags: @megamindsecretlair @blackhawkfanatic @casey1-2007 @scorpiosaintt @buckysdoll85 @grdh90 @thedonswife13 @scott-loki-barnes @b3llair3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics