#Still unsure if the way I’m writing them is good though

[cyber-streak-extra]

So, I decided to make another quick little fic involving the ITP: Happy Ending AU by @maraariana01 and this time, it’s got Funtime Freddy from Count The Ways, aswell :)

Title: A Bear, A Child, & Said Bear’s Way Of Breaking, Entering, & Capturing

The animatronic bear stared out at the house, a smirk plastered right on his face. He’d been around the area for quite some time—after simply stumbling across it after wandering around after leaving the old man’s garage.

He already knew who he wanted to get this time—the young boy, Oswald. He’d already been planning everything... he’d just been waiting for the perfect moment.

Funtime Freddy sighed. When it did come down to taking the kid, he would’ve preferred to be able to use his storage tank—but, thanks to Silly Millie, when she entered, she caused it to get stuck.

It was something that the bear only discovered after he’d counted, gotten rid of his boredom, and fulfilled Chilly Milly’s wish. It was all still a win-win in his eyes. But he wished she hadn’t gotten it stuck. No matter what he tried, it stayed that way.

Oh well, Funtime Freddy thought. I can still manage.

...

Oswald sat at his bed, drawing some sketches. His phone was in his lap, texting Ben—although his friend hadn’t texted back yet. He could hear Jinx purring from where she lay on the ground.

He was waiting for Spring Bonnie to finish up with some chores—as the rabbit was going to drive him to go pick up Ben. Through his closed door, he could hear the vacuum.

Oswald was glad that everything was normal again—...well, as normal as life could be after he went through the ball pit, and obtained a third parent in Spring Bonnie.

Everything else was still pretty normal. School had started back up, he’d been visiting and chatting with Ben more—who had returned from his little vacation not too long ago. Spring Bonnie, Jackie, and Thomas all seemed to be comfortable with each other.

He knew it was something that took time getting adjusted to. Oswald was happy that it went smoother than he had thought it would when he talked to the two of them, explaining little parts of what had happened that day.

...Even now, he had never outright explained the ball pit. Sure, he told them both that he found Spring Bonnie at Jeff’s Pizza, but Oswald never explained the time traveling part. He didn’t even know how.

Click.

Oswald paused. What was that? He frowned. It sounded like it was coming from behind him. His window? Before he could turn, he started to hear the sound of hissing.

“Jinxie?” He glanced down at the cat, who was backing up slowly—she looked on edge, and her hissing didn’t stop. “What’s the m-“

Oswald’s eyes widened when he was suddenly grabbed by a cold, metallic, and somewhat broken arm. A gasp had escaped him when he was lifted up, but he could tell it was muffled.

His eyes darted around, trying to get a full look, and what had grabbed him was obviously an animatronic—but not the one that he was used to seeing, or liked seeing. Just like the arm, this animatronic was damaged, and he seemed to be a bear.

The animatronic bear chuckled, although it was obvious that he was trying to keep himself quiet. He was just barely succeeding. “Hello, Little Ocelot!~” He whispered—or tried to, voice glitching.

Barely managing to see anything else behind the large bear, Oswald noticed his window. It was fully opened, but it looks like some parts of it had been broken in the process.

Oswald wanted to get away. He wanted away from this bear. He could feel himself moving around... but it wasn’t working. The bear’s grip was strong. What did he want?

Oswald didn’t want to find out.

Could he yell for Spring Bonnie? He knew he sounded muffled... but what if the bunny still heard him? How good was the bunny’s hearing? He didn’t know.

For a moment, Oswald thought about trying to call someone—but that was quickly thrown out the window when he realized that he couldn’t. His phone, originally in his lap before he was grabbed, was now abandoned on the floor.

He could only think that, if he could grab it, that he would either end up messaging Ben—who seemed to have texted back now—or his parents—who were out on a date. What would they do?

“Squirmy one, aren’t ya, Little Ocelot?” The bear chuckled again, still seemingly trying to make sure that he remained quiet enough. Oswald glanced around, eyes spotting the bear’s stomach. What was leaking out of it...?

...

Spring Bonnie had been vacuuming the whole house. He’d decided to do some chores a couple of hours, and then he planned on driving with his son and Ben. He’d promised to do so after he was finished.

He was in the living room—which was the last area he needed to get done. Earlier, Oswald’s room had been where he had started, and he went from there.

Spring Bonnie’s ears twitched, and he paused. He thought he heard something. Was it just the vacuum? It was loud. He’d almost forgotten that he had the TV on, too—a rom-com, which he was glancing up at and watching bits of as he did chores.

He continued vacuuming for a second or two... but then the bunny’s ears twitched again. The bunny was hearing something. It wasn’t coming from the vacuum or the TV, though. It was... what was it?

The bunny pressed a button, turning the vacuum off, and setting it carefully on the ground. The TV’s volume was quite low, so he didn’t need to turn it further down—he’d mainly been relying on the subtitles earlier.

Hissing. The bunny heard hissing. And... talking? Talking. It was a little distant and somewhat muffled from where he was, but he knew that’s what it had to be.

The hissing had to be Jinx—he’d grown accustomed to that noise. But the talking? It wasn’t Oswald. It wasn’t Jackie, or Thomas. It wasn’t Ben. He could tell that. He knew all of their voices well... but this wasn’t any of them.

Son? Spring Bonnie frowned in concern. He could feel his ears start to lower. He should go check on him. He hoped that it was nothing—he hoped that nothing was wrong—nothing was going on with his son.

Moving the vacuum out of his path, the bunny started walking down the hallway to reach his son’s room.

...

When he opened the door, Spring Bonnie nearly stepped on Jinx’s tail—but spotted the hissing cat before that, and stepped out of the way. Once out of her way, the cat ran out.

He watched her leave, confused, before turning back around and looked ahead. That confusion quickly turned to horror from the sight in front of him.

Funtime Freddy, beside the bed, with his son squirming around in the bear’s grasp. Both’s attention were turned to Spring Bonnie when he had entered the room.

Spring Bonnie! Oswald felt relieved.

“Oh, why hello!” Funtime Freddy knew of him. Knew of how the bunny came from the pit—pretended to be Thomas—before truly joining the family. He knew how he was essentially a third parent.

Oswald thought he heard a... growl?

Spring Bonnie took a step forward, and Funtime Freddy started moving, too—towards the direction of Oswald’s door. “I wouldn’t get too close, bun-bun!” He snickered.

The bunny stared. “I have plans,” He started, still slowly making his way to Oswald’s door—the smirk remaining on his face. “You wouldn’t want your Little Ocelot to go...” He used his arm without the hand, seemingly doing a ‘slicing’ motion around his own neck.

“But, maybe it would be fun to make you count the ways with me, bun-bun...” He laughed, smirk growing. He wondered what Spring Bonnie would choose. He also wondered what the kid would want. But, he had different plans.

He was here to get the kid and leave, before resuming everything. Silly Milly shouldn’t have gotten his storage tank stuck. If not for her, this would be a little easier. But, he had fun with her.

Oswald noticed how Spring Bonnie was beginning to leak. There was always little bits dripping, but massive leaking usually seemed to happen, he noticed, when the bunny was angry or sad.

Teeth. Oswald and Funtime Freddy saw all of the teeth stored in the bunny after he unhinged his jaw. Angry. Oswald hadn’t seen him like that since the night he went back to Jeff’s Pizza to get his dad.

“Oh, you don’t like that, bun-bun?” Funtime Freddy giggled.

Spring Bonnie’s hands bawled into fists. Just as the bunny started to get closer, the bear ran out of Oswald’s bedroom door. Spring Bonnie followed.

He entered the living room, looking around—he didn’t see Funtime Freddy or his son yet. He could feel himself leaking further.

Just as the bunny took another step, he heard a glitchy little laughter, followed by footsteps, and the feeling of something hitting him from behind—it felt... electrifying. Shocking.

...

Spring Bonnie blinked. He was leaning against one of the walls in the living room. He wiped at some of the liquid agony and remnant, before hurriedly looking around. Son...! What had the bear done?

Standing up fully, the bunny hurriedly began looking all over the house. He went back to his son’s room, checking under the bed, and in the closet, before moving to the rest of the house.

Oswald... Spring Bonnie could feel himself shaking as he kept checking the house. His ears were lowered. He could feel so much liquid leaking from his body—eyes especially.

As he reached the last room that he had to check, Thomas and Jackie’s room, Spring Bonnie leaned against the wall as his body started shaking further. How could he let this happen? How could he let his son get taken?

What was going to happen...?

Son... I’m so sorry...

He couldn’t find anything in the house—no hints or traces of where Funtime Freddy could possibly be with his son. Wherever the bear went with Oswald, neither of them were in the house anymore.

Spring Bonnie made a decision. He left through the front door, hurriedly looking around outside—he spent an hour or two doing so. That’s what it felt like.

The bunny was leaking everywhere. He checked the front yard, and the back yard—every area near the house, and even somewhat far away—in hopes that he’d find any sort of clue to where his son and the bear could be.

He found nothing.

Spring Bonnie made his way back home. When he got back, he’d been planning to recheck everywhere. But, as he passed the front door, the bunny fell to his knees.

Jinx meowed sadly from where she lay somewhere in the living room.

He should’ve been able to stop Funtime Freddy. He should’ve been able to stop him from taking his son. The bunny should’ve been able to save his son. Had he failed his son...? What did Funtime Freddy want with him?

Horrible possibilities started throwing themselves into the bunny’s mind—which he attempted to ignore, but... Funtime Freddy could do anything. What if he had already done something? How was he going to find his son?

Spring Bonnie heard the front door open.

...

“Oswald, we’re-“ Thomas started, closing the door behind him and his wife—although he stopped when he spotted Spring Bonnie in the middle of the living room.

He was collapsed on his knees, shaking. Even if the bunny wasn’t facing them, Jackie could tell that he was leaking... something. (What was it called? She’d never asked. Did Spring Bonnie know?)

Most of the leaking, she noticed, was coming from his eyes—it was pouring out like a waterfall. Although she noticed it coming from other parts of him, too. Jackie frowned.

“Spring Bonnie?” She gently called out, approaching the bunny carefully. Thomas stayed where he was, but looked around.

“Spring Bonnie,” The nurse knelt beside the animatronic. “What happened...? What’s wrong?”

The leaking bunny turned slightly to look at Jackie. Messily searching through his pockets of his coat, Spring Bonnie eventually pulled out his note pad and pen.

Jackie and Thomas, who moved a little closer, both watched as the bunny started writing. Although, whatever was leaking ended up hitting the notepad paper. So, the only words that the two could fully read were: “Oswald” “Freddy” and “Captured”.

Spring Bonnie messily flipped to another page on the notepad a second later, and sloppily wrote something else—this time, only two words. But it got the point across. “Son taken.”

“W-What...?” Jackie whispered, horrified, her eyes widening.

He could vaguely hear Thomas say something, too, followed by quick footsteps—from the corner of his eyes, Thomas seemed to be making his way to his son’s room.

Jackie watched her husband for a single moment, before refocusing on the shaking bunny in front of her. “Spring Bonnie, w-“

She was cut off when the bunny moved forward, hugging her—the hug was tight, but he wasn’t hurting Jackie, either. Blinking as her eyes felt watery, Jackie hugged the bunny back.

Jackie had never seen him like this. She rubbed the bunny’s back, closing her eyes. Oswald... please, be okay. What had happened? Why would anyone want to take her son...?

He should’ve stopped the bear before he escaped, Spring Bonnie had thought. He should’ve done... anything. Why did this have to happen? Oswald didn’t deserve anything that the bear may do.

He only hoped that he could get to his son somehow before Funtime Freddy went through with anything...

[nonsensechemicals]

crying whenever i talk about Cookie9 because all my friends have these interesting and unique theories on them while i take everything too literally and they all just stare at me like “dude… uuugh we r TIRED” <-they dont actually say this they are very kind to me but i can Feel It

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she���s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[ha-rinrin]

"Is there something wrong with my pants?"

Summary: Jinx's comes home after getting half of Zaun out of Stillwater with a doubt on her mind.

Pairing: Jinx x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.4k

Authors note: I laughed so hard at this scene that I had to write something based on it. Also, guys, I'm absolutely refusing to accept the ending of episode 6 for my own mental health.

masterlist

The hideout is still, the quiet hum of the machinery and the flicker of a dim lamp your only company. You've been waiting for Jinx, trying not to imagine all the chaos she’s causing out there. You know she’s been working on something big, but you’re never quite sure exactly what until she shows up.

The door slams open, and in she bursts, her energy almost tangible as she steps into the room. Jinx is practically glowing, a grin stretched across her face that matches the wild sparkle in her eyes. Her clothes are messy, but she’s hardly bothered by it, her usual chaotic aura taking over.

“Guess who just pulled half of Zaun outta Stillwater?” she announces, her voice thick with excitement. She practically bounces in place, her fingers twitching like she’s about to explode with more energy.

You blink, surprised. “Wait—half of Zaun? You mean you—”

Jinx nods, cutting you off with a quick motion of her hands. “Yeah! I snuck in, all stealthy-like, dodged the enforcers, and got them out. No one even knew what hit ‘em! They’re gonna be talking about this for ages, trust me.” She leans in closer, her face lighting up with that grin that’s both wild and contagious. “I’m like their ghost, except, you know, way cooler.”

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, though a small part of you wonders how she managed it without being caught. She’s reckless, but she’s also clever in her own strange way.

Her voice drops a little, a mix of excitement and something softer underneath it. “It felt good, y’know? Being the one who saves the day for once.” She rubs the back of her neck sheepishly, glancing at you like she’s half unsure if you’ll think it’s stupid.

You step forward, catching her eyes with a soft smile. “I’m proud of you, Jinx. You did something good today.”

Her eyes widen slightly, a little surprised at the words, before her usual grin returns, if a little softer now. "Well, I don’t always blow things up, y’know." She shrugs, still trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, but you can tell she’s pleased.

“Yeah, but you always make it exciting," you reply, stepping closer to her, your voice warm. "Only you could pull something like that off and get away with it."

Jinx laughs, her energy rising again, and she twirls around once more, feeling the high of her success. "Well, they won’t be calling me ‘crazy’ for much longer! They’ll be calling me a hero soon enough—just wait!"

You smile, watching her, knowing that her idea of ‘hero’ is always going to be a little different from the norm. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.

After the rush of adrenaline begins to fade, Jinx’s usual wild energy starts to settle, leaving behind a quieter, more tired version of her. She lets out a long breath, her grin softening as she moves to the couch, her steps a little less bouncy now.

“You know,” she says, her voice much softer than before, “sometimes, all that sneaky, saving-the-day stuff takes more out of me than I thought.”

She drops onto the couch with a sigh, sprawling out, but then pats the empty space next to her, glancing up at you with a mischievous smile. “C’mere. You’re not gonna leave me hanging after all that, are you?”

You raise an eyebrow but walk over anyway, sitting next to her. As soon as you do, Jinx pulls you down beside her, her arms wrapping around you like a vice, dragging you closer as she snuggles into your side.

“Perfect,” she mutters, resting her head against your shoulder with a contented sigh. Her usual wild energy has faded, replaced by something softer, something that only ever seems to appear when she’s with you. She lets out a small, satisfied hum, clearly enjoying the comfort of just being close to you after everything.

“You know, you’re the only one who doesn’t think I’m a total freak," she says after a few moments of quiet, her voice more vulnerable than she usually lets on. "You’re the only one who gets it… and me." She nuzzles into your side, her arms tightening around you slightly.

You smile softly, resting a hand on her back, your fingers gently tracing the familiar lines of her jacket. "You’re not a freak, Jinx. You're just... you. And that’s all I need."

She glances up at you, her eyes bright, but there’s something softer there now, something deeper than the usual spark of mischief. "Good," she mutters with a quiet chuckle. "’Cause I’m never gonna change." Her grip on you tightens a little, and she settles further into your side, clearly at peace now. “So, I’m gonna stay here and cuddle until the world falls apart again. You cool with that?”

You chuckle, feeling the warmth of her body next to yours, the chaos of her day finally falling away as she rests against you. “I’m more than cool with that.”

Jinx lets out another satisfied sigh, her eyes fluttering closed as she relaxes even more, completely at ease in your arms. And for once, everything feels calm—just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, in a world that’s spinning too fast for anyone else to catch

Jinx stays nestled against you for a while, the chaos of the day melting away in the quiet comfort between you. Her breathing has slowed, and she feels more relaxed than she has in hours. The soft hum of the hideout is the only sound, but then, out of nowhere, she shifts slightly in your arms, her mood taking a subtle dip.

You feel her tense, just for a second, and her voice comes out a little softer than usual. “Hey… um… do you think there’s something wrong with my pants?”

You blink, not sure if you heard her correctly. And then, you glance down at her—her eyes wide, her lips pressed together like she’s genuinely worried. It’s such a stark contrast to the wild, unpredictable energy she usually exudes. The sudden vulnerability in her face, combined with the seriousness of her tone, is almost too much.

And before you can stop yourself, you burst out laughing. It’s not mean-spirited, just genuine, surprised amusement. The ridiculousness of the question, paired with the look on her face, catches you off guard.

Jinx blinks at you, her eyes narrowing slightly in confusion as she watches you laugh. “What?” she asks, her voice a little defensive, though the corners of her mouth twitch in response to your laughter. "Is it really that funny?"

You try to catch your breath, still chuckling. “Jinx… you—" You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, grinning. “You’re worried about your pants? Look at you! You’re the last person who should care about that!”

She pouts for a moment, her arms still around you as she pulls herself a little closer, almost like she’s trying to hide. “It’s not funny, okay?” she mutters, her voice quieter now, though there’s still a hint of that pout on her lips. "That enforcer made me feel stupid... and I didn’t like it."

You stop laughing, realizing just how much it’s bothering her. You gently tilt her chin up to look at you, the playful tone fading as you meet her eyes. “I’m sorry, Jinx,” you say, your voice soft but sincere. “It’s just… you’re telling me this, and then I look at you, and I’m like— … Who cares what she thinks?”

She stares at you for a moment, the pout fading as she lets out a small breath. “Yeah, but still...” she trails off, still fiddling with the fabric of her pants.

You grin, brushing a hand through her hair as you pull her back into you. “You’re perfect, Jinx. Those pants? Totally you. No one else could pull them off like you do.”

her head resting against your chest as she lets out a soft sigh, the weight of her earlier worries starting to ease away. “You’re the best,” she murmurs, her voice barely audible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smile, kissing the top of her head. “You’d probably blow something up, but I’d still be right here.”

And just like that, the tension fades. She’s back to her usual self—still a little quirky, but reassured and relaxed in your arms.

[inkedinshadows]

Nights and Days

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: Azriel and Y/N are on a mission in Illyria, but as they move from one camp to another, they’re caught in a blizzard and are forced to find shelter in the nearest inn. Thanks to the shadowsinger, there's only one bed.

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, p in v, just a sprinkle of shadow play, language, lots of witty banter

Word count: 6.3k

A/N: this is my first time writing smut, so I'd really appreciate it if you let me know what you think 🥺

Groups of rebels had begun to appear all over Illyria, claiming that Rhys was not a good High Lord, that a low-born bastard was not suited to be their general, and that training their women was nothing more than a waste of time.

After two weeks of diplomacy that led to absolutely nothing, Rhys had dispatched the Inner Circle to deal with the rebels. Mor and Amren had stayed in Velaris to make sure nothing happened, but the others had been sent out to Illyria. And Y/N had been paired up with Azriel.

They were flying from one war camp to the next—Y/N trying to focus on anything other than Azriel holding her close as he flew—when it started to snow.

“Is it safe to keep going?” she asked him, glancing at his beautiful wings flapping behind him.

“Would you rather I land now? In the middle of nowhere?” Azriel looked down at her with a little smirk on his face. “Give me some credit, Y/N. I can handle a little snow.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you’re a big, tough Illyrian warrior. My bad.”

He didn't answer, but she didn't need to look at him to know he was still smirking. That annoyingly attractive smirk always made her want to kiss him. She focused on the forest below, on anything other than his lips and how close they’d be if she would just turn her head his way.

They flew in silence for just a few more minutes before the snow began to fall more heavily. Y/N simply looked at Azriel with a raised eyebrow, not bothering to use words.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” he said when he noticed her expression, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “Camp is not that far. We can still make it.”

“Azriel, did you wake up this morning and just decided to be stupid?” She pointed at the grey sky above them, where more clouds were gathering with the promise of more snow to come. “You see that, right? It’s already late and we both know it’ll only get worse. We won’t reach the next camp before it turns into a blizzard. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

His only answer was a low chuckle. “Oh, yeah? The poor princess is freezing her little ass off?”

She smacked him on the shoulder. “My ass is anything but little, shadowsinger. Shouldn’t you find us a shelter or something, instead of making fun of me?”

“Said the one who just called me stupid,” he pointed out. He lifted a brow, flashing her another one of those smirks. “Maybe you should apologize for that, and I might think about landing somewhere.”

She cocked her head, unsure if he was messing around or not. “I refuse to apologize for telling the truth. And you’d better land soon, or I’ll kick your ass when you do.”

Azriel’s laugh echoed in her ears, and it took all her focus not to smile just at that sound she so rarely got to hear. “As if you could actually kick my ass.”

If her arms hadn’t been wrapped around his neck, she would have crossed them over her chest. Or maybe she would have used them to strangle him, if only it wouldn't mean they'd fall out of the sky. Eventually, she settled to roll her eyes again. “Azriel, I’m being serious.”

Though she enjoyed their usual banter and she knew as well as everyone that she could never kick his ass, she hadn’t lied. Even with her Illyrian leathers, she was starting to freeze out there in the snow, and there was no way they would reach their destination without being caught in a full-blown blizzard.

“Relax. Despite what you think, Y/N, I’m not stupid.” He gestured to something below them just as she opened her mouth to protest. “It’s an inn. You would have noticed it already, if only you hadn’t been so busy complaining.”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, squinting to see through the trees and the snow. But as Azriel glided down, she finally saw it. It was a rather large building for an inn in the middle of the woods—many Illyrians probably passed through it—so there was a high chance of finding a couple of rooms to spend the night in.

Azriel landed and gently set her on the ground. Together, they headed for the door and were welcomed inside by the warmth of a fire in the corner of the room. She shook the snow off her hair as she took in their surroundings—a few tables full of Illyrian warriors, most of them drinking and laughing quite loudly.

“We ran out of double rooms.” The innkeeper looked at them as they approached, apparently too bored to even bother with greetings. “But we’ve still got a few single ones.”

Before she could tell him that two rooms were perfect, Azriel was already answering. “We need only one, actually.”

Next thing she knew, he had grabbed her hand and was leading her up the stairs, a key now clutched in his fingers. She waited for the door to close behind them before she turned to him with a frown. “What the hell was that? Why only one room?”

Azriel tossed his pack on the floor and replied as if the answer was obvious. “The hall was packed with drunk Illyrians.”

“So?”

He looked at her then, and she couldn’t quite understand what she saw in his eyes. Was it concern? Or frustration because she still didn’t realize something he thought was so simple?

“I’m not letting you sleep in another room alone, when a bunch of drunk Illyrians have just seen you, probably the only female here, walk in.”

Well, that was not what she expected. But as she thought it over, she couldn’t deny he had a point. She was able to hold her own in a fight, just not against fully trained warriors, and she didn't want to take any risk, especially when it was just one night.

Not knowing what to answer, she looked around the room, which consisted of only one bed and a small dresser—lame and boring, but it would do. Except for the one single bed.

She watched as Azriel sat on an old rug, the only decoration there was. “And what are you doing now, exactly?”

He shrugged, with that same expression that seemed to tell her the answer was obvious. “I'll take the floor, you take the bed.”

She almost laughed at that. “You can't sleep on the floor, not with your wings. I'll do it.”

“I'll be fine,” he replied, and extended his wings behind him as if to prove it. “Why would you want to sleep on the floor anyway?”

“Because I don't want you to do it,” she answered matter-of-factly. “Now get your ass off that floor, shadowsinger.”

Azriel did no such thing and instead leaned back against the wall and extended his legs in front of him. Her gaze dropped to his thighs, the muscles shifting with the movement.

“Why would I do that? It's comfortable here.”

She looked up again, her arms crossed over her chest. “It's not and you know it.”

Both of them too stubborn to give in, they glared at each other. She made no move to sit on the bed, and he made no move to get up. They probably could have spent hours like this, but she couldn't stand the idea of Azriel sleeping on a half-consumed rug, even if it meant she'd do it.

“You wouldn't want to face the rebels with a sore body tomorrow, would you?” she tried, hoping it'd make him think straight.

“I've slept on the ground before, I'll be fine. Big, tough Illyrian warrior, remember?” His lips twitched up, and amusement glinted in his hazel eyes. “Just take the bed, Y/N. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“Which is exactly why you should sleep on the bed, Az,” she snapped before taking a deep breath and speaking more calmly. “I'm just the backup. It doesn't matter if I'm sore.”

“It matters to me.”

His words hung heavily in the air, and she swallowed, not sure how to react to them or to the fervor in his voice. There was an intensity in his eyes that she’d never seen before and, unable to his gaze any longer, she blinked.

“You’re not going to budge, are you?” she asked with a sigh, her arms falling back to her sides.

“No.” And there it was again, that teasing grin she usually wanted to kiss. Right now, though, she felt more like punching him for his stubbornness. It outmatched even her own. “So I suggest you listen and take the bed. You need some rest.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and you don't?”

This time, it was his turn to sigh and roll his eyes at her. “Y/N, I’ll be fine. I’ve slept in worse conditions, and it’s only just one night anyway.”

And yet, the thought of him sleeping on that rug while she was all comfortable on the bed didn’t sit right with her. Just like her well-being mattered to him, his mattered to her. Maybe it was because he’d admitted it, or because he’d rather sleep on the floor than let her stay in another room when the place was full of Illyrians. Or maybe she was just trying to find some kind of excuse, but the words were out before she could think better of them.

“Sleep on the bed. With me.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and she immediately regretted even thinking about it. “I beg your pardon?”

“I mean… it’s just…” she stuttered, her cheeks heating up as she looked away. What a huge mistake she’d just made. Just because he cared about her didn’t mean he’d want to share a bed with her. What was she even thinking? “I know it’s small and there’s not much space, but I just… I thought it’d still be more comfortable than the floor… you know?” Her voice trailed off, and she stared down at her feet.

Deafening silence filled the room, and then Azriel finally spoke, his tone cautious. “And that’s all you were asking?”

She frowned, not sure what else she might have been asking. But she quickly realized what words she had used and how that could potentially sound like something more than an offer to share the bed. Sleep on the bed. With me. Cauldron, she was so stupid. Her face turned an even deeper shade of red. When was the last time she had blushed?

“No, I wasn’t— that’s not what I—” She couldn’t get the words out, and it didn’t help that her mind was now wandering toward certain scenarios that involved the two of them, a bed, and very little clothing. She turned away from him and mumbled, “Whatever.”

“I think this is the first time I've ever seen you speechless.” There was amusement in his voice, and she knew the asshole was smirking once more. “You should watch your word choice if that’s not what you intended to ask.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry,” she murmured as she reached for her pack, but when she took her nightgown out, she realized there was no place to go to get changed. How was she supposed to change in front of him after such an embarrassing mistake? So instead, she delayed the moment she’d have to do it by trying to explain again. “It wasn’t my intention to imply anything. It came out wrong.”

She could feel his eyes on her as he answered. “I noticed. What was your intention, then?”

The look she gave him was one of annoyance. He knew exactly what her intention was, and he just liked to mess with her. She glared at him for a moment before she replied, “I meant what I said. I don’t want you to sleep on that rug, and you don’t want me to do it either. So, the only other option is that we share the bed.”

“Mh, I see.” His lips tugged up in a self-satisfied grin that just made her want to hit him to see it disappear. Not that she could hit him even if she really wanted to. Azriel would block her blow with little effort. But how could she have ever wanted to kiss him?

“So sleeping next to me is the only option?” he added.

“You know what?” she snapped, gesturing to the rug where he was still sitting like it was the most comfortable place he’d ever been. “I changed my mind. Sleep on the floor. I don’t care.”

He chuckled. Chuckled. Cauldron boil her.

She turned her back on him and, without giving it any second thought, she began undressing. She hadn’t realized how warm the Illyrian leathers were until she shivered as soon as she took them off.

“It seems like you’re cold,” Azriel drawled from behind her.

“I’m not,” she replied. She put on her nightgown and sought refuge under the covers. “Not for long, anyway.”

How was Azriel going to spend the night on a rug, without a blanket? When he didn’t answer, she considered maybe asking him one last time to share the bed. Out of the goodness of her heart, she supposed.

But then Azriel spoke again, amusement clear in his voice. And the goodness of her heart be damned.

“You're cold, aren't you?”

She sighed, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Prick.”

“I'm the prick? You're the one who suggested we should share the bed.”

Y/N resisted the urge to turn on her side and face him. Maybe it was stupid and childish of her, but she kept lying with her back to him. “I don't see how that makes me a prick, Az. Besides, you're the one who made fun of me because of it, which means you're the prick here.”

His voice still carried a sense of playfulness as he answered. “I made fun of you because you stumbled over your words like a fool. It was quite amusing, to be honest.”

Instead of replying, she slid a hand out from under the blanket and flipped him off over her shoulder. As she hid it again and curled up in the bedsheets, Azriel’s soft laugh made her smile despite herself.

She heard some noise and, assuming he was getting changed and ready for the night, she closed her eyes. But her mind was running wild.

Images of his hands on her. Of her hands on him. Their lips touching, first tenderly, then passionately. Their bodies pressed together as pleasure overcame them. All scenarios she had never let herself fully consider before, now evoked by Azriel's misunderstanding of her words. Scenarios she now knew for sure would never happen if the way he'd teased her for even suggesting sharing the bed was any indication.

“Make room for me?”

His voice was so close to her that she started, her head snapping around to find him standing next to the bed. He had taken off his leathers and was now wearing loose pants and a shirt. His wings were tucked in tight behind him—those beautiful wings that she knew were bigger than Cassian's and Rhysand's. She still wasn't sure she should believe Mor about the correlation between an Illyrian's wingspan and other body parts.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” he added with a small smile.

“You and your absurdly silent steps,” she grumbled, but she was already moving to the other side of the bed.

Only that there wasn’t exactly an ‘other side’, not when the bed was barely big enough for both of them. As Azriel slipped under the sheets, she found herself with her back pressed against his chest. His familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her senses, and his warmth seeped through her, chasing away the remnants of the cold that even the blanket hadn’t yet managed to rid her of.

“Tell me you don’t move a lot when you sleep,” she said as he settled behind her. “Because if you push me off, I’ll make you regret not staying on that rug.”

His laugh skittered down her back. “You always have something to say, don't you?”

“I promise you, the moment there will be nothing to say, I will shut up,” she replied with a chuckle.

Silence fell and Y/N nestled more against his side. She just couldn't help it. Feeling him so close, their bodies pressing together... it was intoxicating, and she wanted to stay like that forever. She hesitated a moment, and then she decided that she might as well do it: grabbing his arm, she wrapped it around her waist and laced their fingers together, their intertwined hands resting against her stomach. Azriel tensed behind her, and she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. Instead, he released a deep breath that tickled the back of her neck.

“I would never let you fall off the bed,” he murmured. His voice was so close to her ear that it almost made her shiver. And as if to show he really meant what he said, Azriel draped his wings around her.

Y/N suddenly had a lump in her throat. Being enveloped in his wings was somehow more intimate than lying so close to each other. “Glad to hear it,” was all she could think about. After a second, she added in a whisper, “And thank you for not letting me sleep alone.”

Azriel’s arm tightened around her waist, his breath warm against her neck. When he spoke, she could tell by his tone alone that he wanted to say more than just, “You're welcome.” She didn't push him though. He'd tell her when and if he decided to.

She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, letting the sound of the blizzard outside lull her, but with Azriel holding her it was nearly impossible. Wrapped in his arms and wings, she felt safe and protected. Everything else seemed to disappear until it was just the two of them in their small cocoon.

“Can you turn over?”

Her eyes opened at his question, but she didn't move. To face him would mean being only inches away from him. She didn't trust herself to be that close to him. To his lips.

“Why?”

“Just turn over, Y/N,” he whispered. “Please.”

It was the vulnerability in his voice—the barely audible ‘please’—that had her giving in. She had never heard him say it before, not like that.

But as she complied, her face was even closer to his than she'd anticipated. Their noses were almost touching, and she made a point not to let her gaze drop to his lips.

Azriel didn't say anything. They stared into each other's eyes for a few moments or maybe an hour—Y/N didn't know. The one thing she knew was that her heart was beating faster in her chest, and it only got worse when he brushed her cheek, his touch gentle and soft. She smiled, and the movement caused his gaze to dip to her mouth. She waited for him to look up again, but he didn't.

Her smile turned into a little smirk. “Are you just going to stare at my lips all night, or do you plan to actually do something about it?”

Azriel looked at her again, and though he tried to look annoyed, she could see a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Why do you always have to make such quick-witted comments?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” she replied before she even knew what she was saying. She didn't regret it though, because he did it.

And the world shrank till there was just Azriel.

His lips were soft against hers, warm and inviting. His hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer. She melted against him, opening up for his tongue to slip inside, tasting her slowly, almost reverently. Her heart was beating so fast it might have jumped out of her chest.

She'd wanted this to happen for the longest time, and now that it was real, the leash she'd kept on herself vanished. Every feeling, every emotion she'd stifled for so long, now rushed to the surface like a tidal wave.

What had started as a tender kiss soon turned into something passionate and greedy. She whimpered softly against his lips, and her hands began to make their way down to the hem of his shirt.

“Y/N.” Azriel's whisper stopped her as she looked into his eyes. She could see her own need reflected there. “Are you sure about this?”

“I don't look sure enough to you?” She raised an eyebrow. “Maybe next time I should just send you a note and—”

Azriel silenced her with another kiss. “You and your sarcastic answers,” he murmured with a smile.

Y/N giggled and cupped his cheek, brushing her thumb against his lips. “I mean it, Az,” she said, her tone softer now. “I'm sure about it.”

“Good.” He pulled her flush against him as his hands roamed down her back. “Because if I start, I don't think I could stop.”

“Good,” she repeated before she kissed him again.

Y/N tugged on his shirt, and they parted long enough for her to take it off, though it took a bit of struggle to undo the clasps on his back and free his wings. She'd seen him shirtless before, mostly when he was training—he was a real feast for the eye—but now she got to touch him, to run her hands across his torso and feel him shudder. His mouth descended on her neck in response, leaving a trail of wet kisses while his hands gripped her backside.

“You were right, princess,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Your ass is definitely not little.”

She chuckled as he kneaded it. “Told you.”

Azriel hummed, planting one last kiss on her neck before he shifted position and Y/N found herself pressed down on the mattress, the shadowsinger now on top of her. As she pulled him closer for their lips to meet yet again, his hands caressed her legs, trailing up her thighs and slipping under her nightgown.

She held her breath as he brushed past her panties, lingering just long enough to make her shiver. He then moved up her body, causing the fabric to rise and reveal her soft flesh.

Y/N broke the kiss, a small sigh leaving her lips when Azriel’s hands reached her breasts. He smiled at the sound, and as their eyes met, his gaze was so full of desire that her core clenched.

She wanted him. She needed him.

Before she could reach between them to push down his pants, Azriel gently stopped her by grabbing her wrists, sensing what her intention was. “Not yet,” he murmured.

She frowned. A slight tug was all it took for him to release her hands, though she didn't try to undress him again. “Why not?”

And there it was again, that smirk. But now, with him on top of her, both of them half naked, she didn't simply want to kiss it. No, she wanted do all the things she'd never let herself consider.

“Because I want to see you first, princess.”

Azriel was already pushing her nightgown up, but as usual, she couldn't keep her mouth shut. “So it's official? You're calling me princess now? You've never done that before.”

He looked down at her with so much desire that it seemed to set her body on fire. “I've never been about to fuck you before,” he answered, his voice low and sultry.

Her thighs clenched together, but before she could come up with a response, Azriel removed her nightgown. Her skin was already so heated she barely felt the bite of the cool air, and it was completely forgotten when he ran his hands all over her body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“You're so beautiful,” he whispered as he leaned down to take one of her nipples in his warm mouth, a soft moan escaping her as she shivered.

Her fingers tangled in his hair to keep him close, and she arched against him when his tongue flicked out to tease her.

“And you're so responsive,” he murmured. Hooking a scarred finger into the waistband of her panties, he pulled them down her legs. The scent of her arousal wafted through the room as Azriel nudged her legs open and settled in between them.

Y/N was about to tell him to hurry, her need to feel him against and inside her now almost overwhelming. But she couldn’t form the words, not as Azriel pushed his hips against hers and she felt the evidence of his own arousal pressing hard against her wet core.

His hands caressed her sides, her ass, her thighs, and yet he never touched her where she needed it most.

“Azriel…” she complained, eyes locked on him. She moved her hips to grind against his erection, seeking some sort of friction, and she was rewarded by his sharp inhale. But it still wasn't enough.

“Be patient, Y/N.” His mouth descended on her neck again, biting the soft spot where it met her shoulder. “I want to taste you first. I want to worship every inch of you.”

Even though she closed her eyes at his little nips, she shook her head. “Azriel, I appreciate it. I really do. But you have no idea how long I've waited for this.” Her breath hitched when his tongue swirled around her nipple again. “We can leave the worshipping for later. I need you now.”

“You need me, uh?” He kissed her other breast, and she bucked her hips against him once more. “And you've waited a long time for this?”

Y/N looked at him again, her fingers still clutching his hair. She nodded and realized her mistake too late—a new mischievous gleam entered Azriel's hazel eyes.

His lips trailed down her stomach and toward her belly button. Each kiss sent a shiver right to her core. “Then you can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her patience now at its limit. “Azriel, you—”

A gasp cut her off as he licked a stripe up her dripping folds. She couldn't tell who moaned first when Azriel tasted her once more, his tongue flicking over her clit.

Her fingers tightened in his black curls and her head fell back on the pillow. Azriel's lips closed around her clit and she clamped a hand on her mouth to keep quiet as he gently sucked on it.

His shadows began to slither up her body, their touch cool against her heated skin. Her breathing quickened and she had to hold back a moan when his tongue was replaced by a finger slowly sliding inside her folds.

But it didn't move. Azriel looked up at her and she wished she could somehow capture the picture: his head between her legs, those beautiful hazel eyes focused on her with an almost predatory intent.

“Don't go all quiet on me now, princess,” he murmured against her skin. “I want to hear all your pretty noises.”

A tendril of shadow brushed against her hand, and she removed it from her mouth. “Az, the other rooms—”

He curled his finger to hit that soft, spongy spot inside her that had her see stars, and she couldn't stop the moan that left her lips.

“I don't care if someone hears you.” His voice was a low, almost commanding growl. “Let them hear you. Let them know you're with me.”

She was about to answer, to tell him she wasn't sure she should, but Azriel added a second finger, and she lost all control, another small cry of pleasure slipping out.

Azriel seemed satisfied because his smirk reappeared. “If I had known this is all it took to put a stop on the witty comments, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Y/N wanted to make one of those very witty comments to prove him wrong, to show him she hadn't become helpless just because of how good he made her feel, but his tongue circled her clit again and Mother above, she was helpless.

“Do you want to come, princess?”

Unable to form even a coherent thought, all she could do was nod, her body on the brink of release as his fingers curled once more, drawing a moan from deep in her throat.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Yes… yes, please,” she panted.

But instead of keeping going, of driving her over that sweet, craved edge, Azriel placed a kiss to her inner thigh and slowly removed his fingers from her folds. He even moved away from her, standing up at the foot of the bed.

She groaned, pushing herself up on her elbows to glower at him. “Azriel, you get back here right now.”

He only grinned. “Ah, there she is.”

“If you're doing this just because you missed my comments, you should know that I—”

The words died on her tongue as soon as his hands swiftly undid the buttons of his pants. Her eyes followed his every movement as he pushed them down his legs, watching his muscles shift and his wings unfold ever so slightly to keep him balanced.

He wasn't wearing any underwear.

The realization caused her brain to stop working, and the sight of his naked body took her breath away. Maybe the rumors about Illyrian wingspans were true after all.

Her mouth dry, she swallowed before finally speaking again. “Azriel,” she repeated, her voice quivering with barely restrained desire. “Get back here right now.”

For once, he obliged without questioning, his grin wide.

Climbing onto the bed, he crawled up her body until his cock pressed against her entrance, her need for him now through the roof.

Their eyes met, and slowly—too slowly—Azriel pushed in, stretching her inch by delicious inch, both of them releasing a moan when he bottomed out, his hips flush against her.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound shooting straight down to her core. “Fuck, Y/N... you feel incredible.”

She had no words to describe how he felt inside her. ‘Incredible’ was an understatement, but her mind was too foggy to think of something else. The only thing she was sure of was that she needed him to move.

“Azriel,” she breathed as she wrapped her legs around him. He shuddered when she accidentally brushed his wings with her toes. “Please, move. Now.”

With his elbows on either side of her head, he leaned down to kiss her, pulling out almost all the way. “I love hearing you beg for it,” he whispered against her lips, and rocked back into her with a quick roll of his hips before she could even think of a response.

He didn’t even try to go slow, instead immediately setting a relentless pace that left her panting, but she didn’t mind. Every choked sound and breathless moan were swallowed by his kiss, their tongues swirling together. Her hands found their way into his hair, around his neck, down his back, and her nails scraped along his warm and slightly sweaty skin while he thrust into her, her hips rising to meet his.

Azriel’s own groans and whimpers were music to the ears, each of them bringing her closer to release. As if he knew her body well enough already, he seemed to sense it too, because his lips left hers to trail down her neck.

“That’s it, princess,” he praised. His clipped voice let her know he was probably trying to hold back his own impending orgasm. “Come for me.”

His shadows flew in the little space between their bodies to tease her clit, drawing a guttural groan from her. It was like nothing she’d ever felt before—cool against her hot skin, a barely-there touch that yet was enough to make her shudder and whine. But it was the uniqueness of it all that sent her toppling over the edge.

A loud cry broke from her as her vision blurred and her body tensed, her nails slightly digging into Azriel’s back while he slowed his thrusts to draw out her pleasure. But he soon resumed his punishing pace, his hips slamming into hers almost frantically, the sound of skin on skin filling the small room as he chased his own release.

She choked out his name right as he stilled, hot spurts of cum filling her, his last few moans muffled when she pulled him in for another desperate kiss.

They were both panting by the time they broke apart, but neither of them tried to move. Azriel still lay buried deep inside her, and simply rested his forehead against hers, a smile on his lips that mirrored her own.

Despite his heavy breaths, his brows raised as he asked playfully, “So was the wait worth it?”

“It was,” she answered with a chuckle. Her hands came up to cup his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “You certainly know what you’re doing, shadowsinger.”

Wrong words.

“Is that so?” His grin only widened, and he gave another roll of his hips that dragged a groan from the back of her throat.

She slapped him on the shoulder, but her smile matched his. “Smug ass.”

Azriel's soft laugh tickled her cheek as he kissed it. Slowly, he pulled out of her, leaving her with a feeling of emptiness.

Not ready to let him go just yet, she curled up in his arms as soon as he lay down next to her. Azriel immediately embraced her, holding her close to his chest, their legs tangled.

A comfortable silence settled over them as they bathed in the afterglow of sex, interrupted only by their soft breathing and the blizzard still raging outside.

As the minutes passed, Y/N struggled to keep her eyes open, but she had always wanted to trace the swirling lines of Azriel's tattoos, and now she had her chance. Her fingers danced along the Illyrian design, following the pattern from his neck to his arm, then lingering a bit longer on his sculpted pecs and feeling the muscle beneath her fingertips. His heart was beating fast, pounding in his chest.

“Can you promise me something?”

She glanced up at him, his eyes already fixed on her. The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Depends on what it is.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment before he spoke again with a new seriousness in his tone. “Promise me that we’ll give this a chance. That we’ll give… us a chance.”

Her fingers halted their roaming, her heart skipped a bit, and a part of her whispered that she had heard that wrong, that she had misunderstood. No way he was actually asking her what she thought he was asking her, despite just having had sex.

She had to swallow the lump in her throat to be able to murmur, “Do you mean that?”

Azriel's eyes softened, like he knew she was even more vulnerable now than while they were fucking, and that whether her heart broke or not depended entirely on his answer.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time too, Y/N,” he said gently, cupping her cheeks to look right into her eyes. “I don’t want just this one night with you. I want all the nights you’ll give me.”

Y/N smiled then, so bright it could have lit up the whole room. She wanted to kiss him senseless, to hold him tight and never let go. And nothing was stopping her anymore, she realized, so she did just that.

She showered his face with tiny kisses. Every beautiful inch, from his nose to his jawline, from his eyebrow to his chin. Azriel's arms wrapped around her middle to pull her closer, and she relented her assault only when he chuckled.

Their eyes met again, and she knew there was no turning back now. But she would never turn back now.

“I’ll give you all the nights in the world, Az,” she finally said once the burst of joy subsided. “And the days, too. I'll give you anything you want.”

His smile was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was wider than ever before and the urge to touch his small dimples rushed through her—dimples she'd never known he had, but that she'd do anything to see again.

When he kissed her, it was slow yet passionate, gentle yet desperate, their breaths mingling, their hands caressing cheeks and running through hair.

“You're the only thing I want,” Azriel murmured once their lips parted. “Every night and every day. I want only you.”

Those were probably the most beautiful words she'd ever heard. Not even in her dreams did she imagine he would say them. Dwelling on what it would be like to share moments of passion was one thing, but this…

She moved to straddle him, mindful of his wings splayed out beneath him. She wanted to run her fingers down their length, and hopefully, sooner rather than later, she might get to do just that.

“Then I hope you're not too tired, shadowsinger.” She leaned down to trail kisses along his tattoo, but her eyes never left his. “Because you can't say something like that without expecting me to fuck you again.”

His hands tightened their grip on her thighs, her words enough to ignite the fire in him once more. “I'm yours, princess. We have all night.”

“All the nights,” she corrected him with a grin, already grinding on him. “And all the days.”

Maybe they would be facing the rebels with sore bodies, after all.

Tags: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover

(If I accidentally added someone who wanted to be tagged only in part 3 of A Helping Hand and not the general tag list, please let me know and I'll fix it)

[notyourjaem]

2:46 AM ★ P. JISUNG

★ PAIRING: boyfriend!jisung x female!reader

★ GENRE: est. relationship, period sex, NSFW

★ SUMMARY: you can’t sleep because of your period cramps, good thing your boyfriend knows of a way to help you feel better.

★ WORD COUNT: 1.2k

★ CONTENT/WARNINGS: period! sex! do not read if you don’t like that!, multiple orgasms, fingering, red hair jisung (grants a warning), jisung is a very sweet boy, nipple sucking, soft sex/somewhat rough sex, creampie. oh and this isn’t really proofread 💀 sorry

★ AUTHORS NOTE: uhhhh I was on my period when I started this and one thing let to another and..yeah. first time writing period sex so lemme know how I did 😎 I will tag my girl @be-my-sunrise because she is my #1 jisung whore. this is for uuuu!! 💞 and happy birthday jisung even though im a day late (never a dollar short)

You stared at the red numbers glowing on the alarm clock the bedside table before rubbing your eyes; almost like the numbers would change when you looked again.

nope, still the same.

Shifting around underneath the comforter, you turned over to see your boyfriend in a deep sleep. You huffed, clearly feeling some kind of envy of Jisung actually feeling comfortable enough to fall asleep.

You turned back over, trying to fix the blankets before Jisung’s voice stopped you.

“What are you doing?” Judging by his tone and volume of his voice, you could tell that you had just woke him up.

You turned to him. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Yes.” Jisung answered before pulling you closer to him, and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Why are you awake?”

“Because, I can’t sleep.” Your voice was slightly whiny in comparison to Jisungs quiet tone.

“What’s wrong? You didn’t sleep at all?” Now there was concern in his voice as he was now fully awake.

“No, I can’t get comfortable.” You tried your best to snuggle against his chest, but couldn’t shake the dull ache in your abdomen. “I’m like in pain.”

“Do you want some medicine? I’ll go get it.” Jisung’s fingers traced along your back as you closed your eyes.

“No, don’t get up. You’re so warm.” You put a hand against his chest as if to hold him still when Jisung never moved.

The two of you laid like that for what felt like a long time; Jisung shifting under the blankets to check what time it was. You were still awake.

“You’re still awake.” Jisung spoke, but you were unsure if it was a question or a statement.

“I’m still uncomfortable.” You winced; no amount of Jisung’s warm embrace could distract you.

“I know something that might help.” Jisung’s fingers traced patterns over your back as he spoke.

You knew exactly what he was talking about. “Ji, that’s going to be so messy.” You could only imagine what a mess all of the bodily fluids would be; nevermind the cleanup.

“Sweetheart, sheets go in the washing machine. I’ll remake the bed while you take a shower. Easy.” Jisung pressed a kiss behind your ear, sending electricity right through you. Damn you, hormones.

“You can make me feel better?” You pouted.

“mhm.” He hummed in response. “Lie on your back for me.”

Jisung gave you space to adjust yourself; hovering over you as you lied on your back. He adjusted the pillows behind your head to make sure you were comfortable.

You lifted your hips slightly as Jisung pulled your underwear off of you, putting them in a safe spot to the side of the bed.

“Tell me if you feel uncomfortable; I’ll stop.” Jisung spoke softly to you as he pushed your knees upwards to your chest.

You nodded. “Mhm.” As you braced for Jisungs touch.

Finally, his fingertips were pressing against your clit; moving in slow circles. You could tell he was testing the waters and seeing how you felt.

“Shit. That feels good.” You muttered; any tension you had melting away. “Come closer, I want you closer to me.”

Jisung smirked, doing as you wanted. He changed his position so he was directly over you. “Better?” He asked as a strand of red hair fell in his face.

“Yeah. Better.” You brushed his hair away from his face before kissing him.

Catching you completely off guard, Jisung effortlessly slipped his middle and ring finger inside of your cunt.

Your jaw fell slack as you moaned into his mouth “Oh my fuck, Jisung.”

“Yeah, tell me.” He muttered close to your ear as he was thrusting his fingers into you like his life depended on it. “Tell me how good that feels.”

You let out a choked moan, one of your hands reaching to grab onto your pillow. “So good, Ji. Shit.”

“Good girl, doing so good.” Jisung praised you before slipping another finger into you, making your face contort at the added pressure between your legs.

“Fuck.” You sighed, feeling an orgasm creeping up on you.

“I can tell you’re close.” Jisung spoke mostly to himself as you caught him watching his fingers move in and out of you. “Make a mess out of me; go ahead.”

His words made your stomach tighten, and Jisung let out a moan when he could hear the wet noises coming from your cunt; doing exactly as you were told.

Jisung pushed your shirt up with his free hand, pressing it flat against your stomach.

“Jisung, don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop.” You pleaded as you put your hand over his.

“Fuck.” Jisung muttered under his breath, relishing in the way that you were begging him to ruin you.

You grabbed onto his wrist, whimpering when he started finger fucking you with vigor this time; your legs practically trembling and threatening to close.

Jisung pulled himself away from you, coming close to you once more to kiss you. “I’m gonna fuck you so good.”

In a fleeting moment, Jisung left you as he stood to remove his clothing. He came back to you, pulling you further down the bed by your hips.

“You’re so pretty.” Jisung spoke as he admired your fucked out expression. “Look at Me.”

He kissed you as soon as you turned to look at him. “How do you feel?” Jisung asked you innocently before you felt his thumb tracing over your right nipple.

You whimpered from the sensitivity of your body already; not giving him a full answer.

“Good?” Jisung dropped his head down, and as you moved underneath him, he caught your nipple in his mouth.

You let out a rather loud whine at the feeling; grabbing a hold of his hair once again as he grunted, sucking and nibbling at the swollen bud.

“Jisung, please!” You pathetically begged him, earning exactly what you wanted.

Jisung finally aligned his cockhead with your core, swiping it along your folds; definitely making a mess now.

Finally he pushed himself inside of you, letting out a sigh of pleasure when he did so.

“Oh my god, you feel so good.” Jisung wasn’t even inside of you all of the way.

You weren’t sure if it was because of your period, or the fact that Jisung already pulled two orgasms out of you, but you were definitely not going to last long.

You gave him so response except a meek whine before he was fucking into you; slow and deep.

“Ji-fuck!” You grabbed onto his bicep with one of your hands before he laced his fingers with yours; tightly holding your hand. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I think I can.” Jisung answered, kissing your jaw a few times before changing his pace.

Eventually he was slamming into you; getting carried away by your moaning and whining.

“Gonna cum in you; make a mess out of you.” Jisung grunted in your ear, making you yelp. “You like that?”

“Please, please.” You couldn’t answer fast enough before you felt him release inside of you; whimpering at how messy you felt.

“Fuck.” Jisung swore, steadying his breathing as he came down from his own high.

He kissed you on the forehead. “Feel better?”

You nodded, eyes feeling heavy. “A lot better…but tired.”

You must have started to doze off, before Jisung stopped you. “No, no, no. Let me clean you up. Don’t fall asleep like this.”

The switch up of him made you chuckle. “Okay, I’ll try not to.”

“Really, let me start a bath, I’ll change the sheets, and then we can get some sleep.”

Sounds like a plan.

[selfcarecap]

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write!

gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret. 

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind. 

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy. 

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them. 

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it. 

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend. 

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could. 

-

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade. 

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting. 

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up. 

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

-

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time. 

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

-

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him. 

-

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say. 

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

-

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still makes more sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist. 

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it. 

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top. 

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too. 

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan. 

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

-

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?” 

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers. 

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa. 

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans. 

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

 You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction. 

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.” 

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief. 

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum. 

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?” you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum. 

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic. 

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

-

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits. 

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

- Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.” 

- Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

- Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

- Cum eating contest off her body with Logan 

- Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

“We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 4 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.0k (can you see the trend)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), still a lot of cussing, some mature themes (no smut, sorry), we're finally in the headquarters!, the story moves significantly along here (i think)

a/n. this one took a second to get out, but i hope the wait was worth it! we're going knee-deep into the storyline, so brace yourselves for the nitty gritty. the dialogue here was too fun to write tho lol

links. masterlist, ao3

Neither of you says anything about what happened.

After you used your quirk on Masaki and the rest of his crew, eventually convincing them to let you take off the bugs and censor the cameras in the evenings, you and Bakugou were briefed about a few more details before you went your separate ways, returning home to pack up your things and spend your last night alone for the foreseeable future.

The trek back to the subway station was quiet, with Bakugou leading the way and you trailing a few feet behind. The silence that enveloped the both of you bordered on tense more than awkward, and you itched to confront him about unceremoniously jumping you, but restrained yourself at the looming thought of the trackers planted firmly against your chest.

As much as it pained you to think about it, from this point on, you have to work double time on biting your tongue and watching your words. Just your words and location—if you’re lucky—but your facial expressions and movements, too, when there are cameras around.

Fortunately, there weren’t any when Bakugou didn’t step out of the carriage just as the automated voice announced his stop, nor when he wordlessly got out of the train beside you at yours. Your face contorted in evident confusion in those two instances, to which he only tossed you silencing looks. It didn’t take long for you to realize it’d be suspicious if Bakugou didn’t see you home—his alleged girlfriend—this late into the night.

And so you rolled with it.

You even went ahead and thanked him with the sweetest possible voice you can muster when you reached your front door, as well as wished him a safe trip back home. You think you caught him off guard, but he was able to quickly gather himself and mutter back a few words of gratitude before telling you to get a good night’s rest.

You couldn’t.

Aside from the paranoia that came with knowing someone or some people were listening to your very breathing, the anxiety about this whole mess that you’ve walked into was too palpable for you just to ignore. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours—brain buzzing with a hundred what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios—before you eventually knocked out at around 3 AM.

You promptly woke up at 7 AM a few hours later, albeit begrudgingly and all thanks to your bothersome alarm tone. You had to show up at work, despite it being a Saturday, to file an indefinite leave as soon as possible. Annoyance shot through you as you remembered Kouki’s dismissive remark about your job in contrast to Bakugou’s.

You shook it off.

There were more important things to deal with, such as the guilt that bloomed in your gut as you turned in the paperwork to Yuzuki, your school’s HR personnel, who, at the sight of them, visibly deflated.

“You’re going on a leave?” she asked that cool morning, incredulous and tone somewhat begging you to say no.

“Yeah…” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“But why?” she pressed, sitting up behind her desk that’s riddled with knickknacks and picture frames of her and her toddler. “You never take off from work. And,” she enunciated, “…the kids need you, Y/N.”

Your polite smile faltered at the mention of the kids.

“Yeah, well…” you started, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a temp, what with the recent licensure exam results. The kids won’t even notice I’m gone, I promise.”

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I highly doubt that.”

It didn’t matter if she had her doubts, though, because this was happening. You braced yourself to tell Yuzuki just that, but to your relief, she didn’t push further after that exchange, opting to half-heartedly process your request instead.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, you were already cleared by her department and now officially on a short indefinite leave without pay.

In an attempt to take your mind off of potentially losing your job, you stopped by the grocery store on your way home and picked up a few items, such as toiletries and other things you may need for your stay in the headquarters. There was no telling when you’d get to shop for your necessities again, so you went full ham and spent the money you usually budgeted meticulously to the nearest cent. Besides, if you succeeded in this mission, you wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the next year, at the very least.

You were about to head to the check-out counter when your eyes caught the display of…house slippers in the back aisle.

You paused at the sight of them.

If you were going to be under house arrest, you might as well be cozy while doing so.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a beige pair for yourself, and a black pair for Bakugou. You had no idea what his feet size was, but those were the largest they carried, and so that’d have to do. Plus, you doubted quirk supremacists were mindful enough to provide their hostages with comfortable footwear.

It was already around 4 PM when you arrived home with your arm-numbing groceries and takeout dinner in tow. Setting them aside by your kitchen counter, you quickly got started on gathering your necessities. You blasted your favorite album as you packed your suitcase partly to make the arduous process more bearable, but mostly to drown out the voices that fought to take the reins in your head. You were nervous—very much so—but there was no going back from this.

And so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach, you swiftly got to work, and by dinner time, you were already packed up and ready to go. After going through your checklist one more time and confirming that everything was accounted for, you got changed into fresh, more appealing clothes and scarfed down the meal you purchased to-go after shopping.

You sat in your living room with all your things stacked beside you on the couch, waiting, though it didn’t take long for Kouki to materialize by the kitchen with that irritatingly haughty expression on his face.

You tried to ignore the disgust that sprung as you watched him step on your freshly washed rug with his booted feet, choosing to shift your attention upwards instead. You observed him as he eyed your belongings with mild disinterest, before shifting to regard you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up one hand for you to take, while the other moved to touch the pile of stuff.

You didn’t bother to verbalize your consent, resorting to just nodding as you gingerly took his hand. Your surroundings instantly morphed the moment that you did, and you found yourself going through the now-familiar motions, emerging smack dab in the middle of your floor’s hallway a few seconds later.

Kouki was gone just as quickly as he arrived, apparently way above helping you move your things to the space at the end of the hall. The same goes for the twins, who only watched you as you lugged your baggage into the room.

You locked eyes with the female guard, and for a second, you debated engaging her in conversation.

You already knew what to say. You’d ask her if they were sure about you staying in, when Kouki can just teleport you to your respective apartments at the end of each day if they’re so worried about you getting spotted.

Besides, you thought as she glared at you with seemingly unfounded hate, that means we’ll be out of your hair.

But as tempting as it was to bring up that alternative at the moment, you ultimately thought better against it.

You already used your luck to convince them to turn off the trackers at night—something they probably wouldn’t do if you and Bakugou lived outside due to the lack of backup surveillance. It simply wouldn’t be smart and cautious of them if they did. You also didn’t want to undo that already tall order of a bargain when what you needed the most was the privacy in which you could discuss the mission and steps moving forward.

Besides, you bet your money it’s not just that. The teleportation quirk of that old geezer has to have a limitation somehow…

You let all these simmer in your head as you settled in for the night. To your chagrin—you wanted at least one night where you get to sleep on the decent-looking bed—Bakugou showed up not an hour later with his own luggage.

You didn’t say anything to each other aside from brief ‘Hey’s’ as he entered the room and unpacked his belongings, as well as when he disappeared into the small comfort room and showered.

You decided then and there that you both had to work on your conversing skills if you wanted a shot at making this ruse believable for the sake of the mission.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, decked out in lounge clothes and haphazardly drying his ash-blonde hair with a towel, it was already 8 PM sharp—your agreed-upon time to retreat for the night and consequently, remove your trackers.

And so you wordlessly filed out of your room, only to see the twins already at your front door, waiting. You doubted they ever left their post ever since you arrived.

You eyed the male twin as he sashayed into your room before his sister called you to attention. Other than that, the exchange was nothing but silent and perhaps a little bit hostile as the woman roughly stuck her hand up Bakugou’s shirt then yours, similar to last time, and removed the devices. You fought back a wince just as she ripped it from your skin, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake.

You could tell she was resisting the urge to shove you back to your room when the deed was done. You didn’t want to risk being her punching bag, so with a curt nod, you promptly turned back and once again entered the room, with Bakugou following you just as the other twin exited and closed the door behind him. Looking up, you immediately registered how the cameras were now facing down—covered—and the red, flickering lights were nowhere to be seen.

An instantaneous wave of relief flooded through you.

Bakugou must’ve noticed, because he whipped to face you, and the disturbed expression on his face was enough to shut you up.

He tilted his head, perhaps gesturing to the rest of the room, and it took you a second, but you eventually managed to make out what he was trying to say.

Shut your trap, his icy stare told you. Check the room for bugs.

And so with a nod of understanding, you tossed him a look right back before quite literally turning the room upside down. It probably took you at least 10 minutes to uncover and check every surface, nook, and cranny, but by the time you both were pretty sure you were safe, you were already stifling a yawn.

And having a hawk eye must come with the job description, because that didn’t go unmissed by the pro-hero, who wordlessly took one of the two pillows from the bed, as well as the throw blanket on top of the actual duvet cover, before tossing both on the brown couch.

You were just about to thank him for preparing your ‘bed’ for you, but you didn’t get to, because you were very much robbed of all words when he plopped himself down on the couch, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“What are you—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off, his commanding tone comically juxtaposing how snug he looked with his head barely peeking out of the cloth. You’d laugh at the way his large feet were poking out at the end of it if you weren’t in a contentious mood.

You frowned. “You’re the guest of honor. I should be the one sleeping on the couch.”

“If it bothers you that much—” Bakugou piped from where he laid comfortably on the (p)leather furniture, “—we can take turns. Tomorrow, I get to sleep on the bed, and so on.”

“But—”

“Conversation’s over. ‘Night.”

With that, Bakugou flipped on his side, turning his back against you, effectively shooting the conversation down in its entirety.

You stood there for what felt like a couple more minutes, keen on shaking him awake, maybe even yanking him off the couch and planting yourself on it before he could wrap his head around what was happening, but you ultimately decided to let it go, at least for now.

You wished him a good night as you turned off the lights and snuck into the queen-sized bed a few moments later, although you bet he was already fast asleep based on the lack of a reply.

Which was good for him, because he needed the rest for what was about to crash into you the next day.

Apparently, Masaki wasn’t kidding when he said groups like theirs needed the space to conduct their activities, because they sure handle a lot.

At 8 AM, you were roused awake by a violent knocking on your door, and you could tell Bakugou was awoken by the very same thing, because he shot up in alarm just as you did. You quickly got up and padded to the entryway, trying to ignore the silly embarrassment of being seen in your threadbare pajamas in broad daylight, before whipping to look at the man. You didn’t have to say it, though—Bakugou was already grabbing his pillow and blanket and plopped into the bed, lying down as if he was there the entire night. Only when he was fully settled did you turn the knob open, only to see the female twin scowling at you. Her hand was held up, on top of which were two trackers.

“It’s breakfast time,” she spat out—literally, some of her saliva landing on you. She looked over your shoulder to glare at Bakugou. “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”

Behind you, a distinct grumble sounded out across the room, and you glanced back to see Bakugou getting up from the mattress and folding his blanket, a deep frown etched on his sharp features.

Looks like someone’s a morning person, you thought to yourself.

Not wanting to aggravate her even further, you wasted no time in getting dressed and presentable enough. You debated on whether or not to spend five minutes putting on makeup, ultimately deciding to do so, with you ending up patting on just enough product to look eye-catching before you and Bakugou went down to the mess hall to eat breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the space, you found yourself thankful for that extra five minutes because all eyes were on you. Well, maybe more on Bakugou, but they inevitably drifted to you, the person who walked next to him side by side. You could hear the people whisper to themselves as you moved to sit at the table near the back, before it hit you and you froze.

“What?” asked Bakugou from across you, who followed suit and paused, butt hanging mid-air.

“Come and sit next to me,” you blurted out, and before he could react in a way that would incriminate you both: “I want to sit beside you, babe.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened ever so minutely at the pet name, his face then sobering up as if he just realized what you were trying to do.

You wished you could spell it out for him, that couples tend to sit next to each other rather than across, and…you needed to seem like one who is head over heels for each other around these people as well. Thankfully, you didn’t have to, because Bakugou merely nodded without question, before rounding the table and seating himself right next to you.

You did your best to tune out the looks and murmuring throughout the entire meal, after which you got swept to one of the halls for an introductory talk for the new members. There were eleven of you in total, including you and Bakugou, the rest of whom you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even hide their surprise and awe when the two of you walked in and sat yourselves at the farthest row beside each other. You tried to radiate an aura of friendliness, smiling at the others when they looked at you, and then beaming at Bakugou whenever you caught him looking your way.

You could tell he was having a hard time playing the part, his smile strained whenever he attempted to return the motion. It was probably after the third time of trying to get a reaction from him when you mustered the courage to bring a hand to his shoulder, kneading the muscle as a form of an affectionate gesture, but mainly to get him to relax. He initially tensed at the contact, but eventually loosened up as you continued the action.

Soon enough, the talk commenced, with someone you didn’t know presenting himself as Kazuma, one of the officers of the organization. He went on to formally introduce the association, named The Quirk Coalition, as a group of like-minded individuals who aim for a future where quirks are nurtured and fostered to their fullest potential in a democratic society that puts a primacy on said powers. You noted how they conveniently left out the part where they detest the weak and the quirkless, although you did not comment on it. You only glanced at Bakugou one time, who looked onto the stage with tight lips.

Kazuma also went through the hierarchy of the organization, starting with Masaki at the top just as you suspected, then Sayaka and Kouki, followed by Hiroto and Omiru—the two who you recognized as the twins, looking like they just got their mugshot taken in the photos. Kazuma sat there at the lower tier alongside several other officers, under which were the regular members, totaling about 70—some of whom live in the headquarters and most going in and out, having normal jobs during the day and families to tend to.

You don’t know how they got it, but at the bottom row of the chart was a picture of you, right beside Bakugou dressed in his full hero gear.

You let the reality sink in as Kazuma droned on about the group’s beliefs, how they equally valued their ideals and the people who carried out these ideals. You made a mental note of this piece of information, before accidentally zoning out for the rest of the lecture.

The next seven days went on roughly the same way, with either of the twins serving as your unfriendly alarm to demonstrating PDA in the mess hall during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with talks, history classes, support group sessions, and even quirk training nestled in between mealtimes.

You and Bakugou went through every single thing together, from sitting out the ‘classes’ where the teachers essentially waxed poetic about rewritten history with a strong bias against the quirkless, to attending what felt like group therapy where you each took turns sharing your ambitions and goals as members of the organization. Bakugou even partook in one of the quirk training sessions, wherein he practiced shooting precise targets while propelling himself in the air.

You couldn’t decide if he was trying to act all serious for the mission or was just showing off—could’ve been both, really, but regardless, his efforts were enough to catch the eyes of the fellow members working on their respective quirks. You, on the other hand, sat to the side and watched the pro-hero do his thing, not being able to ‘practice’ anything without a partner to ‘boost’—or really, manipulate.

Needless to say, you’ve both been busting your ass pretending to be eager, dedicated members, but aside from the information readily provided in the forums, you haven’t had much luck extracting details that could prove to be useful for the mission, a fact that you’re now planning to bring up with Bakugou, a full week into moving into the headquarters…

…After you finish checking the bedroom for bugs.

It’s become some sort of an unspoken nightly routine for the both of you. The second the door shuts behind you after the trackers have been taken off and you’ve checked that the cameras are pointed downwards, capped, and are not blinking anymore, you go to your respective halves of the room and thoroughly check each inch for a wiretap. Neither of you dare to say anything compromising until you’ve completed the survey, and even then you’ve telepathically agreed to watch your choice of words.

Still, you can’t deny the familiar sense of reprieve whenever this time of the day comes along, and you’ve since associated these moments with Bakugou with comfort.

Which is probably why you have the audacity to joke around.

“Are they comfy?” you ask just as you plaster your butt down into the couch. You’ve had your fun yesterday, sleeping easily in the soft bed. You watch Bakugou as he eyes you warily, sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing you.

He huffs, crossing his legs. “Are what comfy?”

You point to his feet with your lips. “The slippers. They were buy one take one, you know.”

At that, he smirks. You can’t help but feel your own smile growing.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be bragging about, princess.”

Flying right past the tail end of that sentence for your sanity, you force a frown on your face. “Why not? It was a great deal. And, I’m sure yours are comfy. Mine are.”

He leans back on his hands that are firmly planted at his sides. He’s still smirking. “So why bother asking me in the first place if you already knew the answer to the question?”

You open your mouth to retort a witty comment, but come up short. Bakugou’s smirk morphs into a grin when you do. You wrinkle your nose in disdain, “I was just trying to make small talk. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The pro-hero only chuckles at that, before sitting up and bringing his hands forward, one holding and wringing the other arm’s wrist.

You study him for a beat, and then the cameras, which are still turned down and capped with a lens cover.

And when he only continues the rotating motion, you finally speak up.

“…What are we gonna do now?”

Bakugou’s eyes shift upward from his wrist to look at you, the softness that was just in his gaze a second ago now replaced by his trademark caution. You try not to focus on the disappointment of having caused that, as well as the misplaced longing for what was once there.

It takes him a while to reply, his features contorted into a look of deep thought. But when he does so, he straightens his back. “We—”

A barrage of heavy knocks resounds from the door, startling both of you and cutting Bakugou off. It’s immediately followed by a gruff voice, which you can now easily recognize as Hiroto’s.

“You’re not making any noise,” comes his bite, although it’s slightly muffled. “You better think twice about planning something behind our backs, you two.”

You roll your eyes. You understand any hostility coming from the members, as you and Bakugou come with risks that can potentially harm the organization that they hold dearly. But even you can say that the twins are taking it a bit too far with the harsh treatment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think their being extra hard on you has something to do with Masaki agreeing with the off-surveillance.

“Fucking relax,” Bakugou seethes in their direction. “Just because we’re not audibly having sex doesn’t mean we’re talking shit.”

You snort. Bakugou whips to look at you, the corners of his lips upturned.

That seems to put a plug on Hiroto, because the man doesn’t say anything after that. Once again, you’re met with silence, with you and Bakugou sitting on your respective furniture, looking at anything but each other.

It’s him, though, who finally breaks it a few minutes later with a clear of his throat.

“We keep at it—” Bakugou starts carefully, “—is what I was trying to say earlier. They’re gonna discuss the plans with us sooner than later.”

…Patience, huh?

You can do that.

Nodding, you adjust your position on your seat. You don’t dare to ask him to expound or add your own thoughts on the matter. Better to be safe than sorry, even though you’re pretty sure your room is free of bugs.

So instead, you finally give in and steer the conversation to something that’s been plaguing your mind ever since the commission kidnapped you a little over a week ago.

“Bakugou,” you begin, and he looks at you expectantly. You gulp. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the question.”

“…So might as well shoot your shot,” he finishes when you don’t say anything.

Well, then.

You blurt it out before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I know you’re strong and all that. But…” you trail off, fixing your eyes on him, “Why did they specifically want you of all heroes?”

Almost instantly, Bakugou’s smug expression is wiped off his face just as it falls.

You scramble to backtrack.

“Sorry if that’s too invas—”

“Are you sure we were batchmates?” he cuts you off, a brow raised in question. “Back in UA?”

You stare at him. Where is he going with this?

“Yeah?” you reply, not at all willing to try and jog his memory with the only prominent exchange between the two of you. So instead, you toss the query back at him: “Why?”

“Because if we were, you would’ve heard about the rumors about me, unless they weren’t as widespread as I thought.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Rumors?”

He peers at you for what feels like an eternity, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation. His body language has changed drastically, you note—the distinct confidence from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with…shame?

He heaves a deep breath.

“I was a bully,” he finally declares, meeting your gaze. “I bullied someone for being quirkless. I guess you could say I had a…” he hesitates, as if he’s trying to filter his words,” …certain mindset up until late into our first year.”

He shakes his head again, which is now bowed down toward the floor. “I did some pretty…awful stuff, to say the least.”

And before you can say anything, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me about what I did.”

“I wasn’t going to,” comes your speedy response. That causes him to look up again and at you, a surprised look written on his face.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“I don’t have to know,” you reason, schooling your features into a neutral, even sincere expression. “Besides, I can clearly see there’s remorse. There’s no need to reopen that can of worms, especially if you’ve tried to make amends.”

You pause, eyeing him. “Have you?”

He tosses you a look of offense, as if you just accused him of being a serial killer. “Of course. And he’s forgiven me. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who feels remorse—” you chuckle, “—just like I said.”

He shoots you a glare, although it’s playful and has no bite to it. “Smartass.”

You grin at him. “I am smart, aren’t I?”

Bakugou doesn’t verbalize his agreement, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead, he turns the table on you.

“You’re a guidance counselor, aren’t you? You use your quirk on your clients?”

You gasp, insulted. That grants you a smirk from him. “No! Of course, not. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs, “What? It makes sense to me.”

“So should this thing called ethics, which I follow and is very important, especially for people like me who work in the mental health field.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him. “Why’re you in this field, then? If not for its compatibility with your quirk?”

You think about it for a beat.

“I guess you can say my quirk did play a part in all of this, but not as my crutch,” you eventually explain. “Using it made me realize how much I like making people feel and do better, which is something that I now do with evidence-based techniques as a counselor. Plus, my job trains me in identifying emotions, which, you know…”

—helps with maximizing your quirk.

But you don’t say it out loud for fear of getting exposed, and it seems like that’d be unnecessary, because understanding flashes across Bakugou’s eyes. He nods, and that’s all you need to know he gets what you’re leaving unsaid.

“That’s a pretty noble cause,” he offers, although it comes out a bit awkward.

Still, you flash him a genuine smile. He looks away.

…Right at the wall clock, which now reads a little too late o’clock.

“You should get some sleep,” says Bakugou just as you are about to tell him the very same thing.

And when you don’t respond: “Are you sure you wanna sleep on the couch?”

‘What, are you proposing we share the bed?’

…Is what you would say if you were a fucking lunatic, which you’re glad you aren’t, because you don’t know how you’d survive this hell of a mission if you were.

Instead, you nod, shooting him a grateful look as you move to lay back and drape the blanket over your body. “Bask in the luxury of a proper mattress, your highness.”

You don’t get to see his reaction anymore in your new position, but you bet your cheap but surprisingly ergonomic slippers that he’s grinning with the way he snorts loudly.

“Stupid.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[moonstruckme]

Oh! Oh! I’m not the anon who asked about Jily x reader but your response made something spark in my brain. So picture a super cosy, soft scene where one of them comes home from a long and draining day of work to one of their loves in the kitchen baking, and then the third comes home with dinner and it’s all just soft and domestic. My heart! I think I can see the Jily x reader appeal

Thank you for requesting lovely! I feel like I'm still getting my sea legs under me with them but so far I'm really enjoying writing for them :)

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The front door opens, and you say “Hi,” with a question in your voice, unsure who’s made it home first. 

The answer comes in the quiet scrape of a chair being pulled out. Only one of your partners is given to actually sitting down to take their shoes off, rather than toeing them off and being shocked when the backs get scuffed. “Hi, love,” Lily replies. 

“Hi,” you say again, warmer now. “Hey, could you help me with something when you’re done?” 

“Yeah, with what?” 

“My hair won’t stop getting in my face.” You blow a strand away from your eye. It comes right back. “And my hands have dough on them.”

“Just a second.” You hear the chair being pushed back under your table, the quiet padding of socked feet as your girlfriend comes up behind you. As usual, she’s come prepared, a hair tie already on her wrist. Gentle fingers sweep strands away from your face and draw it all back into a loose ponytail. Lily presses a kiss to your nape once she’s done. 

“Thank you,” you say, and she hums, settling her arms around your waist. “How was your day?” 

Lily sighs and rests her chin on your shoulder. “Long.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, lovely. Anything in particular?” 

“Not really. Just one thing after another, you know.” She toys with the loose knit of your sweater, sticking her finger through a hole. “I’m happy to be home.” 

The fondness that bleeds through you feels warm and sticky. “I’m happy you’re home, too,” you say with a smile.

You feel her lips curve in kind as she kisses your shoulder. “What’re you making?” 

“Cinnamon roll cookies. They’re more complicated than I thought, but I figure even if I mess them up they’ll at least smell nice when they’re baking.” 

“Good thinking. You won’t mess them up, though.” 

You both hear a key being fitted into the lock outside, and Lily calls out, “It’s open!”

“What?” The voice is muffled through the door. The key retracts, the handle twists. “Why is it open?” James asks as he comes inside. “I could be a murderer.” 

“Because I knew you’d be right on my tail,” says Lily, at the same time as you say, “What makes you think someone would want to murder us?” 

“Well, I’d rather you not find out,” James replies. He toes off his shoes and sets a large paper bag on the table. “Especially when I’m not home.” 

“Oh, because surely we need a man to protect us? We could do just as well in a fight whether you were here or not.” 

Looking at your tall, muscled boyfriend, you have to admit privately that this may be factually untrue. By the look Lily gives you as she goes to give him a kiss, she also disagrees with your argument even if she respects it. 

“Let’s just keep the door locked and that way none of us ever have to fight,” James says as she steps into his arms. He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Lily pecks him on the lips. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Dinner. I know I was meant to cook tonight, but I decided on the way home to pick up instead.” 

“Oh no,” you say mournfully. “Did you have a bad day, too?” 

“No.” James looks at you, confused. “Who had a bad day?” 

“Lily did.” 

“It wasn’t bad, it was just draining,” your girlfriend qualifies, though this doesn’t stop James from cooing and folding her into a hug. “I’m really fine.” Her voice is muffled against his chest. 

“I must’ve had a sixth sense, then.” James kisses her hair. “I got your favorite.” 

“No, did you really?” You can hear Lily perk up. She doesn’t completely remove herself from his embrace but frees one arm and cranes her neck to look inside the bag. “Thank you, love.” 

“Don’t thank me, thank my telepathy,” he says, letting her go so she can start grabbing forks and napkins for you all to eat with. 

James makes his way over to you, leaning against the counter so he can see your face while you work. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his hair fluffy like he’s been running his fingers through it or he rolled down the window on the drive home.

“And how was your day?” he asks you. 

“My day was good.” You grin at him. He returns it with twice the enthusiasm. “I finished my book, and I found this recipe for cinnamon roll cookies.” 

James’ gaze doesn’t dip to where you’re folding the cinnamon mixture into your dough. He nods as he keeps looking at your face, eyes warm. He’s still smiling. 

“What?” 

“Did you know you have a little bit of flour on your cheek?” 

“Oh, why’d you ruin it?” Lily asks, bustling through the kitchen to get you water for dinner. “I wasn’t going to tell her.” 

“What?” You look over your shoulder in betrayal. “Is it a lot? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Lily turns off the tap, giving you a sheepish smile and a lift of her shoulders as she passes by you again. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s very cute,” James agrees. “Want me to get it for you?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at your girlfriend. “Please.” 

James uses his thumb to brush off your cheek, holding your face in his hand while he does. His smile is still firmly in place, soft around the edges with a sweet fondness. He keeps rubbing until you’re sure the flour has to be long gone, until warmth kisses your cheeks and it’s just touching.

“Love you,” you say softly. 

James’ cheeks dimple. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Will you turn the tap on for me?” 

He does, and you wash your hands in the sink, leaving the rest of the baking for after dinner. 

“Oh, good.” Lily comes back into the kitchen. “Are you ready to eat? I’m worried it’s going to get cold.” 

“We’re ready,” James answers for you. “Just washing up.” 

“Jamie.” Lily smiles at you as you step away from the sink to let him have his turn. “You didn’t get it all.” 

“I got distracted,” says James. “Anyway, I thought you liked it there.” 

She beckons you closer. “I do, but if you’re going to get it, you may as well finish the job.” She brushes a fingertip over your cheek, pretty eyes crinkling. “There. Perfect.” 

“She’s always perfect.” James dries his hands on a towel. He kisses you when you smile bashfully. 

“The food’s getting cold,” you remind them. 

“Excuses, excuses.” 

[finelinevogue]

Hi!! I would love a blurb for Azriel (ACOTAR) with 3 & 17 please ❤️ thank you!!!

hi!! of course🌟💖 az has such a soft place in my heart so i’m super excited to write more for him<3

am i allowed to miss you?

summary - azriel comes back from a mission and you’re not sure whether you’re allowed to miss him or not

pairing - azriel x new-mate!reader

✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐✨🪻🪐

Elain bursts through the library doors, looking for you.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, sitting up and closing your book to show attention to her.

“Azriel’s back.” She breathed out, pausing a moment to watch you digest the news before leaving you alone again.

Elain left the door open, allowing you to hear the commotion in the hallway of all your friends greeting Azriel a warm welcome home.

It took you just a moment, but you started to feel his presence beside you. You allowed that warm feeling within-side you to fester and grow, feeling an overwhelming amount of love and safety all at once.

It was the bond.

The new bond.

You and Azriel were only a few weeks mated, after only having courted for a few weeks before that. You couldn’t help but mate each other because of how strong your feelings were to one another. It just made sense.

However, a few days ago Azriel had to leave to go on a mission even though both of you were still reeling in the honeymoon phase of your newly mated lives.

Standing up, you brushed some crumbs off your dress skirt and breathed out shakily.

You were so nervous.

The pace at which you’d been with Az had been so fast that you were still a little unsure how you were supposed to feel. It wasn’t a conventional relationship, per say, but that didn’t mean what you felt for each other was any less real. You knew that. However, you worried.

Walking out of the library you rounded the corner to see everyone crowding Azriel.

Rhys ruffled his hair and Cassian was finishing squeezing him tight as if he’d been gone for 30 years not 30 hours.

You watched with a smile on your face.

Azriel hates being fussed over like he currently is being, so it’s a little funny to watch. He’s too polite to tell them to leave, or maybe a secret part of him actually likes it. Either way, you stand back and allow him to be fussed over.

“Anything to report back?” Rhys asked.

“Rhys, you sent me on a scouting mission to count how many cattle Beron has. Except from the number ‘73’, no. Nothing to report.” Azriel said in the most sarcastic way.

Feyre laughed at this, teasing Rhys over something so silly.

“Counting cattle? Whatever for?” Amren asked.

“I have my reasons.” Rhys blushed, seemingly embarrassed but everyone knew there must be a good reason behind it all. Rhys was respected enough by everyone not for anyone to question anything.

“Was one of those reasons keeping me from my mate?” Azriel asked.

It was then that you’d realised that you’d clearly missed something and Azriel appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His kissed the top of your head and held you close for a moment.

“More like to give us a break from you being with your mate.” Cassian grumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Azriel questioned for you both.

“Umm…” Cassian blushed.

“What Cassian is trying to insinuate is that the walls are old and so the walls are thin. We can hear… everything.” Nesta suggested for her mate.

You muttered a curse to the Gods under your breath, turning beet red at Nesta’s comment.

Everyone else chuckled.

Azriel must have known that you were feeling embarrassed because the next thing you knew you were being swept up in his arms, being carried like a bride.

“Right. Y/N and I are leaving. You can count your own cattle from now on Rhysand. And as for you, Lord od Bloodshed, would you like me to tell everyone about the time I caught you in Nesta’s lingerie and not for a devious reason?”

“You little…” Cassian started to move forward but Azriel had disappeared, along with you, before he could get anywhere close.

You both appeared in his room, out of the shadows.

Azriel put you down on the bed, following you down so he was leaning over you.

“I’ve missed you so much.” Azriel said, kissing you deeply.

You followed his kisses, taking his lead and kissing as much as Azriel was giving. It was soft but at the same time urgent. Your fingers cupped his cheeks, attempting to keep him placed against you forever.

“Welcome home.” You said softly, kissing him once more.

Next thing you know he’s kissing your forehead, nose, chin and cheek. He kept going, moving down across your jaw and onto your neck.

“Did you miss me?” He asked, finding the spot on your neck that you loved him kissing and keeping there.

You didn’t respond to his question, pushing it off as distraction and not listening.

“Y/N?” He left the spot on your neck, moving his eyes until they caught your distanced ones. “Hey. Don’t get shy on me.”

“I’m not.”

“You seem… distracted.”

You watched his eyes assess your face for a long moment. His eyes swirled with a flurry of emotions and you could feel his concern within your own chest. You imagined that he could feel your anxiety in his.

“Am I…” You started then stopped.

Azriel didn’t push you or try and finish the question for you, instead he pushed himself off you and sat on the bed. He carefully took your hand and pulled you up too, not satisfied until he swung you across his lap and held you close.

One of Az’s hands intertwined with yours and you sat like this for a moment more. Enjoying being next to each other. Enjoying the overwhelming emotions settle down as your bond recognised your closeness.

“Am I allowed to miss you?” You asked, remaining looking at his hand rather than him.

“You… Why… Of course you can miss me, my love.” He kissed your forehead. “Why would you think not? Was it Cassian? I swear to….”

“No!” You exclaimed, looking at him then, “It wasn’t Cassian, no.”

“Hmm.”

“It’s just. Everything between us has happened so fast. I went from liking you, to loving you, to mating you all into the space of a month. I don’t feel like time exists and yet… I also feel like I don’t have the right to miss you so much that my heart physically aches after so little time.”

Azriel brings your tied hands up to his chest, leaving your hand to feel his heart beating.

“My heart physically ached too.” He gives you a soft smile.

“I did. I really did miss you.”

“I know. I know, because I felt the same way.” He gave you one loving kiss, “I don’t think it’s silly to worry over how quickly everything has shifted between us, and I do think that we feel right. I think we’re good. And we love each other enough to miss each other. So never worry about how you’re feeling, or if you’re feeling too much too soon - chances are I’m feeling it too.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Welcome home, Az.” You give him another kiss.

“Now let’s give Cassian something to groan about.” Azriel says before flipping you back on the bed.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Two

Pairing: College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Your friends Wanda and Nat drag you to a corn maze event at night. After a rather unpleasant encounter with Bucky, Sam, and Steve, you want nothing but this night to end. Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to find the exit first.

Word count: 6.2k 🌾 🎃 🔦

Warnings: Annoyance to lovers; scared!Reader; scare actor with chainsaw; scarecrows; protective!Bucky; little bit of sad!Bucky

Author’s note: This is me ignoring my wips and writing something that randomly popped up in my head. Wrote this all in one sitting but I’m actually genuinely happy with it :)

Masterlist

“We’re going to get lost in there.”

“With your sense of direction, definitely, but thankfully you have me.”

You shove Nat in the shoulder lightly enough, grumbling under your breath, while Wanda on your other side snickers softly.

The brunette links her arm with yours. “We’ll stay together the whole time,” she assures you.

“Well, I left my bed for this, so this better be good!”

Natasha and Wanda insisted on visiting the corn maze event your town had to offer this year. And since they claimed it would be boring to do this in daylight you now are standing in front of towering stalks of corn being so close together, they obscure the view inside. Sure, it would be way too easy otherwise but, the easier this is, the faster you’d be getting out of here.

There is a clear cut through the corn, signaling the entrance to the maze, but you can’t see past the artificial fog swirling in the tunnel so that’s no help either. The branches over the entrance have cobwebs dangling down and a scarecrow is placed right beside the hole, its eyes glowing red with unnatural light.

A few dimly lit jack-o-lanterns path the way to the foggy entrance, giving only enough light to make sure you wouldn’t catch on uneven ground and fall before anything even started. That would surely be embarrassing enough for the night.

You can make out faint whispers coming from inside the maze, unsure if those come from other visitors or if they are simply sound effects. Either way, you don’t like it. It’s not like you get scared easily. But there’s something about the dark that had always irked you and you don’t feel like getting jumped by some scare actor tonight or some other shit.

There are a few other people standing in groups around you three, talking to staff members, or looking at the map of the maze to somewhat prepare. You don’t pay them any mind though. There is no way you’d be socializing tonight.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Nat exclaims beside you.

“I don’t see this being a party,” you mutter, “and shouldn’t we get a map as well? Might be helpful, you know?” The dry sarcasm in your voice gives way to the enthusiasm you are absolutely lacking.

“We don’t need a map. Come on!” Is all she says as she pulls you and Wanda to the entrance.

“Alright well, just so you know, I'm blaming it on you when we’re still aimlessly wandering around in there by dawn,” you warn, but there’s clearly amusement in your tone you can’t suppress and you share a quick laugh with Wanda.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

It takes you three a little more than fifteen minutes to find the first checkpoint. You’re not sure if this is good or bad timing but at least you haven’t lost anyone of your small group yet so that is good.

The small flashlights you had been given earlier by an instructor cast narrow beams through the dense, twisted rows of the maze. Now, each light lands on the scarecrow ahead, its ragged form standing as still as the one you passed at the entrance. He only has one arm outstretched, clearly pointing in the direction you’ll find the next checkpoint.

“This way,” Natasha calls out, already turning to follow the path being pointed at. Her black leather jacket catches the glow of your flashlight as you walk behind her, Wanda beside you.

You hear a set of screams echoing faintly through the maze, the fifth one since you entered - an indication that in the distance, other visitors just got ambushed by scare actors in the dark. You have no intention of being next so you’re thankful for Nat taking the lead.

However, your gaze constantly darts behind you, checking your back every few minutes, convinced that at any moment something - or rather someone - might leap out of the shadows. You quickly assess and flash the path you had walked seconds earlier, before turning around again, paranoia creeping in with every step.

Distracted, you almost miss the tombstone jutting from the path ahead of you. Your heart skips a beat as your foot catches the edge, but before your face can meet the ground, Wanda’s hand shoots out. She firmly latches onto your jacket sleeve, pulling you back and steadying you, an amused laugh slipping past her lips.

“Thanks, Wan,” you laugh, a little out of breath.

“Getting lost already, ladies?”

You shriek, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest, and Wanda yelps in unison. You bump into her side, both of you spinning around hastily toward the source of the voice. Even Nat flinched, but she seems to recover quickly, letting out a low chuckle as she eyes the three figures standing before you.

You could practically hear the sultry smile she’s undoubtedly wearing behind you as she questions them. “What are you guys doing here?”

Yeah, what are they doing here? You narrow your eyes at the man who made you leap out of your skin.

Bucky Barnes. Of course.

In the middle of a creepy maze, with scare actors hiding around almost every corner, he somehow managed to sneak up on you. Typical. You shouldn’t be surprised he found you in a fucking labyrinth.

“Thought we’d check out the fancy attraction everyone’s been yapping about.” It’s Sam who answers, his words laced with a teasing grin as he stands slightly behind Bucky with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly entertained.

But Bucky didn’t even acknowledge Nat’s question. His focus remains on you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and that glint in his eyes you know so well. He’s evidently pleased with himself for catching you off guard. Fantastic.

Steve, who comes into focus on Sam’s other side, offers you girls a sympathetic smile. There is an apology written in the way he tilts his head. “We didn’t know you were planning on coming, or else we would’ve asked you to join us,” he says, voice sincere.

Before you can respond, Bucky cuts in, stepping forward with that infuriatingly confident swagger. He throws a lazy arm over your shoulder, pulling your stiff form against his side. “Ah well, we’re together now, so let’s stay that way. We’ll get you through this maze well-protected, girls.”

His voice carries that signature smugness as if he’s doing you some grand favor and you should be grateful. You’re not. Definitely, absolutely not.

You immediately shake off his arm, stepping away from him with a sharp glare. “Yeah, no thanks. We’ll manage on our own,” you argue.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, noticeably unfazed. His smirk deepens as he leans in, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Surely that scream said something different, doll. Don’t you think?”

You scowl. “Oh, shut up, Barnes-”

Steve interrupts you with his hands held up, palms open in a calming gesture. “Let’s not make this difficult. We’ll go our own way if that’s what you want.”

“Stay,” Nat drawls, standing relaxed with her arms crossed and shooting you a teasing glance. “It’s funnier that way.”

You cut her a look that should have been able to kill her. The corners of her mouth only curl higher as she turns back towards the path ahead of you.

You see Bucky’s grin from the corner of your eyes.

You all resumed walking, six flashlights cutting through the eerie darkness around you, their beams illuminating the narrow, winding path ahead. Despite your reluctance to admit it, having the guys with you provided some sort of ease. Your shoulders droop slightly and your gait becomes more confident.

More often than not you feel the hot gaze of Bucky on your skin but choose to ignore it, focusing on the path ahead so as not to stumble over another tombstone.

“So, have you guys started preparing for-” Steve’s voice breaks through the silence but gets immediately cut off by Sam.

“Hell no, no talking about classes, or practice for that matter. That ain’t on my agenda tonight,” Sam scolds rather loudly, his voice filled with mock severity. Nat snorts, still walking ahead of you, and you join in, a small laugh escaping as Steve sighs.

The moment was brief, though, as you round another corner and Nat calls out what lay before you. “Dead end,” she declares, her tone flat but unsurprised. “Turn around.”

Grumbling softly, your group pivots and you retrace your steps to take a different turn, only to find another winding corridor shortly later. This goes on for minutes - Natasha calling out dead ends and your group backtracking to find another path offering no more than the last. The guys didn’t take a map with them as well.

You don’t fail to notice the constant presence of Bucky at your back. Each time you turn a corner he seems just a little closer, the warmth of his proximity soothing the nerves in your veins and helping with the chilling air that comes with the night. You ignore that, though.

However, you can’t ignore the fact that you did not once turn around to check your back since he and the others expanded your little group and Bucky took his place at your back. It’s strange. All the paranoia and unease from earlier had softened somehow, as if his irritating confidence bled into you, making the maze feel a little less menacing, the darkness a little less suffocating.

You feel almost reassured by the steady weight of his attention at your back like his silent presence can ward off any sense of danger.

You’re not sure how to feel about that.

Suddenly, loud menacing laughter erupts from the thick corn wall beside you. The sound is dark and jarring, cutting through the air and sending a bolt of fear through your chest. You startle with a gasp, instinctively reaching for Wanda beside you as you jump away from the bushes, your hand clutching onto her arm.

Your heart pounds violently, the adrenaline making your breath quicken. You’re too lost in the moment to notice the steady hand that has settled on your back - Bucky’s hand.

Without a word, he keeps his palm firmly pressed against the fabric of your jacket as his other hand shoots into the corn wall. You barely register his swift movement until you see him yanking out a small device - a microphone hidden in the stalks, playing that sinister laughter on repeat. With a click, the sound stops.

“Just an audio, doll, everything’s alright,” Bucky explains, his voice low and calm, the teasing edge from earlier absent.

Your breathing slows and you let go of the death grip you had on Wanda’s arm, not registering how tightly you held onto her.

Bucky’s presence remains solid and you glance at him quickly, expecting to find his usual smug grin or some sarcastic remark waiting, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel.

But there’s none of that. Instead, his expression seems almost grim as he eyes the microphone in his hand, a hint of disgust crossing his face, lips twitching. Without much care, he tosses the device back into the corn, not bothering to see where it lands.

His other hand still lay pressed against your back and you let it ground you for a fleeting second.

However, the shock transforms rather rapidly into confusion. Shouldn’t he be delighted it went on right as you passed it? Usually, he would revel in something like this, tease you for your reaction, and flash you that infuriating smirk.

He doesn’t.

You keep walking for another few minutes, the tension slowly easing back into a manageable rhythm, when Sam barks out. “There! Second checkpoint! Y’all that’s on me!”

He moves past Wanda, stopping in front of a small carton laid out on a makeshift table. Scattered across the surface were pieces of a puzzle, all with seemingly random lines on them. Four small wooden stools sat nearby, clearly set up for people to take a seat while working on the puzzle.

“A puzzle?” Bucky asks incredulously, coming to a halt with a frown, his hands on his hips.

“I think it’s cute,” Wanda offers with a smile, moving to one of the stools and lowering herself down. She picks up a piece, studying it as she begins sorting through the chaos. You agree, following her lead and settling on a stool beside her.

“You too cool for a puzzle, Barnes? Or are you scared you won’t be able to solve it?” you mock half-heartedly, your eyes already skimming over the pieces, trying to find where they fit together.

Bucky scoffs, his teasing tone returning full force. “Joke’s on you, sweetheart. I’m an excellent puzzle solver. Always did this with Bec’s when she was small.”

His voice was lighter now and you feel yourself relax a little more at the returning banter settling between you.

Though you find yourself thinking about the small comment about his sister you keep stuck on and curiosity rises in you at the little insight in his former private life. You shouldn’t find this as interesting as you did. And you shouldn’t want to know more.

Bucky lowers himself into a crouch beside you since the two other wooden stools sit beside Wanda. Nat and Steve sit down on those with mild amusement, all eyes on the puzzle pieces.

Bucky stays rather close to your side, his thigh brushing against your own as he reaches over the small makeshift table.

Sam hovers over Wanda’s shoulder, offering commentary and the glow of his flashlight as she arranges the border pieces with surprising efficiency.

“It’s an arrow,” you quip, placing a few more pieces together with a minor sense of accomplishment.

“Oh yeah? How’d you figure that out?” Bucky smirks beside you, playful as ever as he gives you a gentle shove to your shoulder with his own.

Annoyance creeps back in and you roll your eyes. “Cut it, Barnes. What you’re doing over there isn’t helpful either,” you snap, shoving him more forcefully in return. He sways slightly on the balls of his feet, letting out a low chuckle that only grates on your nerves more.

For what feels like the hundredth time, you slap his hand away from the pieces you’ve already fit together. Bucky stopped sticking his own pieces together and rather enjoys reaching over and intentionally placing the wrong pieces onto yours, or worse, rearranging what you’d already solved, eyes twinkling with mischief and the corners of his mouth tugged high up his cheeks. Each time you fix it, he finds another way to mess it up.

You refuse to look at his blinding grin.

You huff instead, slapping his other hand away as it winds around your arms trying to sneak another mismatched piece into your section.

You're also too occupied to notice the knowing glances shared across the table.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this done so we can keep moving. I’m trying to make it outta here in one piece, people,” Sam jokes with a lightness in his voice that suggests he’s enjoying this rather thoroughly.

You finished the puzzle quickly, the final piece snapping into place, and you had to hold back Bucky’s hands, refraining him from spinning the whole thing to make the arrow point in the wrong direction.

A few minutes into the walk and a few dead ends later, Wanda breaks the comfortable silence. “When’s your next game again, guys?” she asks softly.

Sam let out a groan of exasperation, throwing his arms out dramatically, almost hitting Nat. “Oh come on! What’d I say about that, huh?”

He’d been walking at the front since he claimed his spot as the lead after 'earning' it by finding the checkpoint. He turns around as he talks, facing Wanda with a playful glare.

“You said no talking about class or practice. So, I can ask about games,” she counters with a smile.

From behind you, Steve’s laugh rumbles through the group. “She got you there, pal.”

Sam shakes his head, turning ahead again, muttering. “Yeah, yeah. Game’s next Saturday.”Though his annoyance is half-hearted at best.

Then, from beside you, Bucky’s voice breaks through, casual but directed. “You’re coming, right?”His tone is laid back with an underlying expectation. The question seems to be aimed at the group but he was looking at you.

Bucky had stepped up to walk beside you after you resumed walking, his pace matching yours and you see the way his head is tilted in your direction.

You glance up at him, blue eyes watching you. He obviously waits for an answer.

“Don’t know. Maybe I have to work then.” You shrug, playing it off, and look back forward again. But you’re surprised at the way your pulse quickens under his gaze and your hand squeezes the flashlight a little tighter.

You don’t always put a whole lot of effort into being there for their games. Sure, you showed up every now and then, but not nearly as often as everyone else. It wasn’t for lack of support. More like self-preservation.

Watching Bucky stride onto the field with that cocky confidence, owning every inch of the space around him, irks you incredibly. He’s good, and he knows it - he owns it.

Unfortunately for you though, sometimes you couldn’t shove down your annoyance for the guy enough and he, unbeknownst to himself, found a way of making your stomach flip in ways you weren’t entirely proud of.

Also, that football gear - You hate the way your body reacts upon seeing him in it as if it were the first time. The fitted jersey, the helmet tucked under his arm, the way his shoulders look even broader in the pads, the brown tendrils of his fluffy and tousled hair falling over his forehead - it all makes your stomach flutter every time and it drives you crazy.

So you found ways to avoid it. You picked up extra shifts at the library, checked the game schedule weeks in advance to make sure you had a built-in excuse. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, just something casual you were doing to avoid unnecessary distractions. But deep down, you knew better.

And so does Natasha - if her smirk in your direction is anything to go by. You glare at her to move her attention, but it’s useless.

You’re unprepared for the following corner of the maze, lingering in the echo of your thoughts. So when the scare actor does his job, emerging from the shadows and brandishing a chainsaw that roars to life in a terrifying symphony, your soul might have just kissed you goodbye.

The flickering light from the chainsaw illuminates his grimy, masked face, a wicked smile etched across his features, and eyes glimmering with twisted mischief.

You scream - just like Wanda, just like Sam. Nat lets out a quick yelp herself and you hear the sharp intake of a breath behind you from Steve. Bucky, who had seemingly been lost in his own thoughts, flinches beside you. In a swift motion, he surges closer, grabbing your arm harsher than probably intended and pulling you to his side. His leg instinctively positions his body in front of you.

The outfit of the actor - or that’s what you try to tell yourself he is - is a patchwork of tattered flannel and soiled jeans, the perfect embodiment of a deranged lumberjack. Raised high, the chainsaw vibrates with a menacing growl, its teeth gleaming wickedly as the man brandishes it like a weapon, the scent of gasoline mingling with the earthiness of the maze.

You clutch Bucky's arm, fingers digging into the firm muscle of his biceps as he stands protectively before you, his stance rigid and shoulders tense. Your other hand is linked with his, shaking fingers surrounded by steady ones. Though his stance is stiff and tense.

Time seems to freeze as Nat, Wanda, and Sam stand still in front of you, Steve’s presence at your back.

Your heart races violently in your chest, suffocating you, and for a moment, it feels like your breath stopped altogether as the chainsaw-wielding man lunges toward you six.

All you are able to do in your state of panic is squeeze Bucky’s hand so tightly you might have feared his blood circulation cut off, if your mind were able to conjure up a thought at the moment.

Bucky reacts instantly. Without hesitation, he pivots and bolts down the maze, pulling you along. His fingers clutch yours with such fierce intensity as if his only fear is losing you in this chaos.

Steve surges ahead, taking a sharp turn right while Bucky guides you left, then right, and left again; maneuvering the maze like a seasoned racer. The world around you blurs as you focus solely on keeping up, your heart racing along with your feet. All sense of direction is lost in the chaos and you can’t tell if Nat, Sam, and Wanda are still trailing behind or if they’re swallowed by the cornrows.

You try to take a glance back, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair, dark brown skin, or Wanda’s long coat.

“Don’t look back!” Bucky shouts over the roar of the chainsaw, his voice snapping your head to the front before you can see anything else besides the blur of yellow-green walls. “Switch off your flashlight!”

You do as you’re told.

You could have had a relaxed evening, maybe taking a bath or watching a show with warm tea and popcorn but no, instead you find yourself chased by a man with a real fucking chainsaw.

Panic surges through you again, your breaths getting shorter at Bucky's fast pace and you feel his hand tighten. There’s an unexpected strength in the way he holds you, his muscles coiling with determination. He navigates the twists and turns with instinctive agility, intense eyes moving over to you every few seconds as if the only important thing here is you.

And somehow that is oddly reassuring and maybe a bit satisfying at the moment. All that mattered is Bucky’s strong grip, anchoring you as you run alongside him.

Around another corner, the path opens up to a small clearing that offers a momentary respite. Bucky pulls you into the safety of the space, pressing your back against the rough stalks of corn, their leaves brushing against your skin. You stand chest to chest, touching each other with every ragged breath you take in.

Bucky still seems composed despite all the running you just did.

He faces the direction you had come from, muscles coiled and ready to react, arms on either side of you, practically hugging you to his chest.

“We lost the others,” you pant, glancing around as best as you could with a mountain of muscle blocking your view.

Bucky’s face is a mask of focus, his eyes scanning the maze. “Yeah. Just stay with me,” he murmurs, lowering his voice, his breath fanning over your cheeks.

He takes another few seconds to assess the surroundings, before looking down at you. “Are you alright?” he asks softly, yet urgently.

You had never been this close to Bucky before, had never imagined such a scenario, and it leaves you unprepared for the overwhelming feelings that flood your senses.

The moonlight cast a slightly silver glow over his features but some remain hidden in shadows. His eyes search yours and you find yourself caught in the depths of his irises, a captivating swirl of blue that makes it hard to look away. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths brushing against your cheeks and your nose fills with a scent that is something distinctly him. It doesn’t help with finding your voice. The slight furrow in his brow suggests worry as he scans your features.

You nod, still breathless from the scare and his proximity.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to reply, though just then, a chilling laughter echoes from around you. The sound of the chainsaw roars back to life, slicing through the stillness.

You flinch in Bucky’s hold, instinctively moving closer and burrowing half in his chest. “Fucking asshole,”you breathe out a laugh and Bucky tightens his arms momentarily around you with a low chuckle. He seems to relax a little.

“We’ll have to keep moving,” he states, a slight trace of amusement in his tone as he looks back at you. He lifts his hand for a second as if longing to tuck the loose strands of hair behind your ears that landed in your face after the frantic escape.

You ignore the sliver of disappointment as he takes his hand back and moves away slightly, letting the chill night air brush against your skin instead of his warm breath. You feel cold, despite the adrenaline pumping in your veins.

The laughing grows louder and Bucky links his hand with yours again. “You ready?” he asks, waiting for your nod before starting to run again, darting through the maze some more.

You have no idea how long it takes before you come to another stop but your chest heaves with exhaustion as you do, ragged breaths leaving your lips. Bucky stands composed with narrowed eyes, looking around the maze.

The silence between you is perhaps a little uncomfortable, the only sound being the heavy breathing of your own labored lungs.

“Well, shit,” you utter after regaining some semblance of balance. “How do we find the others? I have no idea where we are.”

Bucky’s eyes meet yours, his expression unreadable for a moment. He licks his lips, then shrugs nonchalantly. “Looks like it's just the two of us.”

Your incredulous gaze sweeps over his face. “Seriously?” you ask, coming out sharper than intended.

Bucky rubs his hand over his face, looking away from you. “I’m sure they’re fine. Not like anything ever happens in these things. Sam probably already made a bet that he makes it to the exit before we do. So we should just…try and beat 'em.”

You know he tries to seem like this doesn’t affect him at all but there is something about him that makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. He looks a little defeated, perhaps even…hurt. And you don’t quite understand why.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners slightly as he tries for a smile but it looks wry. “Come on, doll! We’re a great team,” he insists.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, Barnes.”

Pain shoots through your chest. Not unfamiliar but not known around Bucky. His faltered expression stings and you don’t know what to do besides watching him drop his eyes to his feet and sigh heavily.

The sound feels like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless once again but without running from a man with a chainsaw.

His hands move over his hair. “It’s still Bucky for you doll. Told you many times,” he says softly, voice heavy with a mixture of dejection and desperation. “And we don’t really have a choice now, do we? We don’t know where the others are and it might take hours to find them. Just looking for the exit of this thing would be easier. Bet the others are doing the same.”

He looks at you then, with a troubled expression, seeming so vulnerable all of a sudden, traces of the cocky football player lost somewhere in this maze.

You nod then, slowly, not able to bring a word out because you have no clue as to what has him this sad.

“Alright,” he continues, nodding to himself. “I think we might have run past the third checkpoint. Let’s find the last one.”

The silence between Bucky and you stretches out like a fragile thread, the tension building with each passing moment. You can feel him glancing at you every few paces and you look over at him every once in a while but nobody says anything.

You don’t even talk when reaching another dead end, just turning around and resuming to walk.

He seems to let you lead, though, taking the turns you do.

You let your gaze sweep over the maze’s twists and turns until something catches your eye. A small, narrow wooden post stands almost camouflaged among the corn stalks, and your pace quickens.

“Over there! Look!”

It feels weird to break the silence between you but you don’t look over at Bucky as you approach the post and hear him fall into step behind you.

It’s adorned with two wooden flags, both having slightly faded letters atop. You read the first one, a small riddle as it seems.

“What’s it say?” Bucky asks, his voice quiet and low near your ear.

The glow of your flashlight helps you make out the words. “It says…What has keys but can’t open locks? What has a face but no eyes, nose, or mouth?”

You chance a quick glance at Bucky beside you. His eyes narrow. “I think I know this one,” he says slowly. “A clock, maybe.”

You read the riddle again, feeling his eyes on your profile. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” You hesitate a second. “Damn, Barnes. Not only all muscle, I see!” You're grateful for the teasing tone that made its way back to your voice and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky’s grin lighting up his face again.

“You’d be surprised, doll,” he replies softly, a smile in his voice.

It isn’t quite the answer you had expected.

You thought he’d dig out the fact that you basically complimented his figure and you snapped your gaze up to his, though he doesn’t meet your eyes, instead staring at the letters on the wooden post.

“So, it’s a clock. What do we do with that?” He questions and you slowly turn back, lighting up the wooden flags again.

“There’s more.”

You move your light to the second flag, starting to read what’s written there.

“I’m a number that’s often paired. In harmony, I’m the perfect tease. Together we’re a perfect pair. A balance of Yin and Yang to share. In the morning, I’m bright and bold. By night, I’m soft and gentle to hold. My presence is felt in every way. From sunrise to sunset, every day.”

You hadn’t even finished reading when Bucky began shuffling a little beside you, straightening his spine. He watches you in silence now and you do your best to ignore his gaze.

You had no idea who came up with that riddle, but you feel like slapping that person. The weird tension between Bucky and you only tightens, seeming to snap any minute and this is no help at all.

Those words seem to sear themselves into your brain, echoing with an unsettling intimacy, you either wanted to bask in or get rid of.

You feel yourself wandering down a dangerous road.

You stare at those words carved into wood and it is as if someone had been watching you two, studying your dynamic, and decided to reduce your complicated relationship to a text.

But do you really think so?

In harmony? A perfect pair? Yin and Yang?

You know there was always something. You can try to suppress feelings for all you want but how can you get rid of something you won’t even acknowledge in the first place.

You like him. You like him a whole lot. Damn it, there is just something about this idiot you have to adore. But you can’t tell him that. Not now.

Not when the weight of his gaze hasn’t left you yet and you feel a flush rise in your cheeks.

Finally, you meet Bucky’s eyes, still fixed on you, as if waiting for something. His expression is unreadable and you feel like bolting away into the corn maze and getting lost. Maybe forever.

How can he look so calm and rigid at the same time? You know he is affected by those words but it looks more like he tries to see what they do to you.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, so intense, your throat constricts and you look away, clearing your throat in hopes it will break the spell.

“Two,” you croak out. “That’s the answer. We have to head towards two o’clock.”

You see Bucky nodding slowly from the corner of his eye, his jaw clenched and you begin walking again.

The tension is palpable, like a living entity that wrapped itself around you. Every step feels like a struggle as if you’re wading through quicksand, fighting against the undertow of your own emotions.

The silence grows so thick, you can hardly breathe.

Light.

There is light just around the corner, beckoning you forward and distant voices grow louder with each step you take.

But right after rounding the corner, fog appears, wrapping you in its damp, grey folds. It’s disorienting at first but feels just like the fog you had passed at the entrance so this has to be a good sign.

However, as you spin around, desperate to locate Bucky, he is lost in the mist and you feel the suffocating need to feel him, hands reaching out frantically, grasping at nothing.

“Bucky!” You call out, voice strained and urgent. You don’t even notice the nickname rolling off your tongue, torn from your lips as if ripped from your throat.

In an instant, a gentle touch brushes against your arm. You jerk back at first, startled, but then feel the soft pressure of Bucky’s fingers wrap around yours. His other hand takes hold of yours, touch so gentle and careful as if you are something to be treasured.

Your heart begins to race as you realize he is right in front of you, chest nearly pressed against yours just like earlier, though this time it feels much more intense, intimate, purposeful.

You strain to see beyond the veil of mist, but it’s like gazing into a void. All you can make out is the faint outline of Bucky’s form, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His breathing is growing ragged. He can run however long away from a chainsaw-wielding man but standing in front of you is what makes him lose his breath?

Blood is pumping through your veins and you feel it rushing through your ears. He’s still standing in front of you, hands holding yours, chest resting against yours and you feel his hot breath against your face again.

You try to comprehend what he is doing, why he doesn’t lead you to the exit, but deep down you know. He’s gauging your reaction. Maybe he saw something in your gaze while reading this riddle, maybe it was in the way you looked at him, or carried yourself. But something about the way you had acted seemed to have given him courage. He found something as he searched your gaze at the wooden post.

And now he’s waiting for you.

“Bucky,” you whisper, barely audible but the hitch of a breath right in front of you is an indication he heard you.

His name is a plea, a confirmation, the consent to continue what he started.

Bucky’s fingers caress your skin, moving up your arms in such a slow motion as if he’s mapping and memorizing how every inch of your skin feels under his fingertips. Shivers run down your spine and goosebumps erupt in the wake of his hands and you know he can feel it.

His hesitation tempers down with every second.

The touch of his fingertips is magnetic and although you can’t see it, it draws you in with an almost magnetic force. You feel yourself leaning into him, eyes fixed on the fog where you know his own are, as if willing to clear it, ready to see the exact kind of blue you fell for. But you know he’s looking at you, not seeing, but still looking. And that was enough to make your stomach flutter.

As his fingers reach your face he gently tucks the flyaway strands behind your ear, holding your face in his palms and tilting it just right. His forehead lands on yours and you take a deep breath in until all you consume is him.

You don’t care about the eyesight you are lacking at the moment. You wouldn’t even care about hearing that menacing laughter again, or the roar from the chainsaw, because here in Bucky’s arms you’ve never felt saver.

You feel his presence in every way.

And when your lips meet his, moving in sync, you know.

In harmony. Like the perfect pair. Yin and Yang.

“Hold your horses, people, I hear something.”

You ignore Sam’s voice outside the fog, attention set on Bucky and his plump lips, his tongue gliding in your mouth, exploring its new home.

“Barnes! Hey, man! Y/n! You in there?”

Sam’s shout again remains ignored.

“You lost, guys, everyone’s out here!”

Bucky pulls away at that, resting his forehead against yours. You feel his huge smile against yours, keeping your eyes closed.

“Nah,” he whispers against your lips. “I definitely won today.”

“The road might be long

The stars may not guide me

But if you keep your heart open

I will find you”

- Michael Xavier

[oneheda]

hello !! may i ask a neteyam fic wherein nete has been trying to win the reader's (s/o) affection again for days and reader just saying "hmp" or ignoring him because of something that he did that made her feel upset :-P silly && comfort pls! :3c

THE RISK. | ➶ neteyam sully

── .✦ a: ONE-SHOT

w.c: 3.9k

pairing: neteyam x fem!na’vi!reader (aged up characters for plot purposes!)

story description: ever since olo'eyktan training cruelly took away a significant amount of time with you, neteyam has been desperately trying to win back your warmth and affection after he’s met with cold steel from your hurt. his longing for your touch and care only deepened from within as time and your silent resentment—a reflection of the quiet yearning that had you undoubtedly tethered to him—had kept you two apart.

contains: established relationship, slight angst that ends with silly fluff (lots!) <3, or otherwise known as hurt/comfort, teyam’ gifting you tons of flowers, him being obsessed with you, calling you yawne a lot, you guys’ chasing each other, falling into a river, being wet (oh.) and in love!!

warning(s): quite suggestive towards the end, but still very PG! 😏

a/n: omg this request is soooo cute and such an imaginable trope for neteyam, given that we all know if he stayed in omatikaya he’d be so busy training for olo’eyktan likeeee? i’ve read so many one-shots with the reader being mad at him before, and him making up for it, and i loved every single one. so, i’m so excited to try this one out in my writing style and mind! +while planning this i kept thinking about—what would you as his omatikayan lover be like? wouldn’t you be hesitant about falling too deep in love with him, knowing you’d miss his busy ahh sooo bad because he’s away like almost all the time? isn’t that risky? seriously, kudos to all those who take that risk IRL fr. ✊🏻

It started with flowers. Not just one or two, but a small, growing pile of them. Each time you turned around, there’d be another tucked behind your ear, balanced on your hammock, woven into a little bracelet left near your food.

Neteyam had been relentless in his attempts to win back your affection over the past few days. It wasn’t as though you didn’t love him because you did, with every fiber of your being. But you were still upset about the argument you’d had earlier in the week. The argument arose from the widening distance between you, a gap carved by the relentless demands of his role as the future Olo’eyktan. You nodded as he explained, telling him you understood—because you truly did. Every decision he made was for the good of the clan, for a future that included you, too. But understanding didn’t soften the ache in your chest. It didn’t quiet the longing for the moments that used to be yours alone.

You didn’t want to seem selfish, didn’t want to feel like a burden, like someone relegated to the edges of his life. But how could you not yearn for him when he was the very heart of your own?

You didn’t need grand gestures or impossible promised, just to feel like you mattered, like the bond you shared wasn’t something easily pushed aside. It wasn’t too much to hope for, was it? If it was, he shouldn’t have assured you that time would always find a way to make room for the two of you.

He shouldn’t have told you he could love you without limits.

Still, you weren’t angry, just quietly hurt. So, you let him sit with the weight of your silence for a little while longer, unsure if he truly understood how deeply you longed for his presence. If he cared, he would be honest. He would decide whether he could meet you where you stood or not.

And Neteyam, true to form, was determined to make the effort.

At communal dinner, he hovered like a shadow, his golden eyes constantly flicking toward you. You pretended not to notice, focusing instead on your food, the stars overhead, and occasionally the random crack in the floor. Anywhere but his face. Neteyam, however, was not easily giving in. With a deep breath, he reached over, gently prying your hands apart from where they were clasped in your lap. His large, warm palms enveloped yours, his thumbs brushing softly against your skin. You stiffened but didn’t pull away, refusing to give him the satisfaction of melting under his touch.

“Yawne (beloved),” he whispered, voice low enough that only you could hear over the chatter of the gathering. His brows knit together in concern. “Are you still upset? I’m sorry, okay? I’ll make it right. Just give me time for a few weeks.”

But your only response was a soft huff as you turned your attention to your plate. His ears drooped slightly, and his shoulders sagged, but he didn’t give up.

Neteyam had taken to foraging during his hunting trips, returning with blooms in every color he could find. Each one seemed chosen with care, as if he had combed through Pandora’s vast forest just to find the perfect match for you. This morning, you found a particularly delicate one—a deep blue petal with flecks of gold, so soft it felt like velvet—waiting for you beside your water. Its placement wasn’t accidental; he’d laid it carefully, as though it were a gift meant to soothe whatever rift had come between you.

“Do you like it?” His voice, deep and warm, came from behind you, startling you slightly.

You turned, fingers curling instinctively around the flower. He was leaning casually against a tree, his bow slung over his shoulder and his skin dappled in the soft morning light. He looked relaxed, but his twitching ears and the slight shift in his tail gave him away.

You rolled the flower between your fingers, trying not to let your heart leap at the sight of him. “It’s pretty.” Your voice was nonchalant, almost dismissive, but your gaze lingered on him for a moment too long.

He smiled, slow and knowing, but didn’t press further. Instead, he stepped closer, his shadow falling over you. “Pretty, huh?” he murmured, his tone teasing but soft. “Just pretty? I thought it was beautiful. Like you.”

You scoffed lightly, a weak attempt to mask the heat rising in your cheeks. “Is that what you’re doing now? Comparing me to flowers?”

Neteyam tilted his head, a playful glint in his golden eyes. “Only the rarest ones.” His voice dropped just slightly, and the way he looked at you made your stomach flip.

You tried to turn your attention back to the flower, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He crouched in front of you, his movements unhurried and fluid, and his hand reached out to tilt your chin up gently.

“You know,” he said, his voice softer now, “I don’t just bring these to make you smile. I bring them because I want you to know I think of you. Always. Even when I’m away.”

For once, you didn’t have a clever reply. And he smiled, small and boyish, as if your mere attention was like handing him all the stars in the sky. “You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered. “I already know.”

That night, during the clan’s celebration, you spotted him at the edge of the gathering. The music swelled, and instead of joining the other warriors in the dance, Neteyam was there, balancing precariously on a low branch. His arms flailed dramatically, as though he were imitating a bird taking flight.

You cocked an eyebrow and took a few slow steps toward him. “Is this what future Olo’eyktan training looks like? Because if it is, we’re doomed.”

He turned sharply at the sound of your voice, pretending to wobble before hopping down with an exaggerated flourish, landing directly in front of you. His grin was wide and unapologetic.

“I’m trying to make you laugh,” he admitted shamelessly, his amber eyes bright. “I’ve missed your laugh, yawne.”

You tried to hold firm, but when he clumsily twirled and struck a ridiculous pose, your laughter broke free. He straightened, a little victorious puff to his chest.

“There it is,” he teased gently, his chest still puffed out with mock pride. “I knew it was still in there.”

Your resolve cracked, but you still rolled your eyes for good measure. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re worth it,” he said without hesitation, so sincere and immediate that it caught you off guard. He extended his hand toward you, palm up to offer you a dance but he didn’t push. He just waited, his presence steady and patient.

“I’m still mad at you, you know,” you muttered, more for yourself than for him. You didn’t move, but your fingers tightened slightly around your forearms.

“I know,” he said gently, his voice low enough that only you could hear it over the celebration. “And I’ll keep earning back every bit of you until you’re not.”

For a moment, you hesitated, your heart warring with your pride. Slowly, your arms loosened, and though you didn’t take his hand, you let it rest there between you, a quiet truce in the making.

“Said you’d earn it back, huh?” The teasing tone in your voice had a sharp edge, and you couldn’t help the way it made his eyes sparkle with mischief. He tilted his head, a playful glint in his gaze, as if trying to predict your next move. “Then prove it.”

Without another word, you turned on your heel and dashed into the back of the forest, heart pounding with the rush of adrenaline. The sounds of the celebration faded behind you, replaced by the rustling of leaves beneath your feet. You couldn’t suppress the laugh that bubbled up from your chest as you glanced back over your shoulder. “Catch me if you can!”

His reaction was instant, his own laugh ringing out through the air as his long legs carried him quickly in pursuit. Neteyam’s voice came, warm with determination, but also with a clear, boyish excitement. “Oh, you know I will.”

You risked another glance behind you and saw him gaining, the playful smirk on his lips matching the wild spark in his eyes like a predator closing in on its prey. The challenge, the thrill. It was all there in his gaze.

You’d darted across the massive branch that spanned the glowing, bioluminescent river below. Your heart raced as you pushed yourself faster, the wind rushing past your ears, but it only made the sounds of your laughter spill out even louder.

It felt like freedom, like nothing in the world could touch you in this moment.

But just as you rounded a turn on the massive branch, his speed bested yours. Toned arms circled around your slim waist, pulling you back against him with such effortless power that it knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, his chest firm against your back, his body radiating warmth in the cool, humid air.

The glowing river far below shimmered with blues and greens, but the only thing you could focus on was him. Neteyam’s breath tickled your ear, unsteady from the chase but layered with soft, husky laughter that sent shivers racing down your spine.

“You’re not getting from me away that easily, yawne.” he murmured, his voice triumphant, teasing, as his arms held you close. His arms tightened around you, pulling you even closer, and you swore you could feel every inch of him pressing against you. His heat, his scent, the way his hands seemed to burn through your skin.

Neteyam's breath brushed over your ear, warm and unstead, sending a hum of heat through your veins as the hairs on the back of your neck rose. You fought to steady yourself, but it was impossible. Your knees felt weak as a warmth blossomed in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t just from the chase anymore. It was from the way he held you, so firmly, with the way his lips lingered so close to the curve of your neck so teasingly that left you dizzy in his hold. He chuckled once again as if hinting at the promise of laughter and surprises yet to come.

Before you could retort, before you could even think, he moved; both of you toppling sideways off the branch. You barely had time to gasp as he leapt, carrying you with him into the air. The drop lasted only seconds before you plunged into the river below, the cool water swallowing you both in a burst of bubbles and bioluminescent light.

You surfaced with a gasp, your laughter echoing across the glowing expanse as you pushed the wet strands of hair from your face. “Neteyam!” you exclaimed, half scolding, half incredulous.

He emerged just beside you, grinning like a mischievous child, his braids dripping water and his golden eyes sparkling. “You looked like you needed to cool off,” he teased, his voice thick with playful arrogance.

Well, you did need to cool off the hotness in your core… but this wasn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Without hesitation, you launched a spray of cool water at him, the droplets shimmering with the river’s glow as they scattered in radiant arcs. His reaction was instant; a burst of deep, joyful laughter that echoed through the humid air, rich and unrestrained. The playful challenge sparked an electric excitement between you, drawing you both into a frenzy of splashing and dodging. The world then began to blur into the glowing water and your shared laughter, a symphony of carefree chaos where nothing else mattered but this moment.

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt this alive, this carefree.

Eventually, your laughter guys laughter faded into breathless quiet. His eyes found yours, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to still. He moved closer, his face only inches from yours now, his wet skin glistening faintly in the river’s glow.

You let out a little laugh, your fingers finding it’s way on his chest, not sure whether to pull away or pull him closer. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

“I’m yours,” he corrected, his voice low and serious for just a moment as he stared deeply into your eyes, drowning in them as if they were the river instead. “And I’m never letting you go.”

Soon enough, Neteyam’s once-constant efforts seemed to slip away, fading into nothing more than fleeting memories. His presence, once a constant source of warmth, began to diminish with every passing day. The flowers he had once brought you—each one an offering of love and hope—became fewer and fewer, as if the color was draining from both the blooms and the moments you shared.

Once again, you understood and didn’t blame him, or at least told yourself. After all, your own responsibilities as a healer had grown burdensome, the increasing frequency of skirmishes and the unrelenting demand for resources leaving you with little time for anything else. Your days blurred into a haze of tending wounds and gathering herbs, each task an anchor that dragged you further from the quiet joys you once had even with yourself.

The strain of hunting weighed heavily on Neteyam too. Gone were the days when he would wander through Pandora’s vibrant forest, carefully selecting the most beautiful flowers to weave into thoughtful bouquets. Now, even the act of picking a single bloom seemed beyond his reach, a bittersweet reminder of the tenderness that had once come so effortlessly.

The communal dinners you had once savored together became strained, short-lived affairs. He would excuse himself early, his duties as the future Olo’eyktan demanding his attention, dragging him away before the last bite of food could even be tasted. He needed rest, they said, to prepare for the challenges ahead. And though you understood, the weight of his absence pressed heavier on your chest with every night he left, his absence a constant ache. The time you once had—those stolen moments of laughter, of closeness, of being seen—became rare, almost impossible to hold onto. The spaces between you grew longer, the silences more deafening.

You began to wonder if this was just how it had to be now. If love, no matter how deep, could survive when it was stretched thin by duty and distance. But fear began to creep in, insidious and unwelcome. It was twofold: the fear of losing Neteyam to the weight of his future, and the fear of losing yourself entirely to the relentless tide of duty.

It seemed that love or leisure took a backseat and only the ceaseless demands of survival drove up-front. Maybe, maybe, everything was silently nearing the end of you and him.

You missed him, so very much. But a part of you couldn’t bring yourself to let go of your pride or admit just how much you missed him. Perhaps you thought you were being unreasonable, that it shouldn’t hurt this much when he wasn’t around. So you turned away from him, convincing yourself that this distance was dignified, that it was better to seem indifferent than desperate.

Yet deep down, the fear gnawed at you. You were terrified of being too much, of clinging too tightly to the man destined to lead and maybe eventually leave you like he always did. Either due to the familiar duties or worse, death. If you moved closer, if you let yourself reach for him, you feared you wouldn’t be able to let go. And worse, you feared the day would come when you’d find yourself begging, pleading for him not to leave, not to hurt you ever again, and that would shatter you in a way you weren’t sure you could survive.

You awoke one day after he finally joined you in your hammock for the first time in many nights, and as expected, the warmth of his body pressed against yours was gone, leaving only the faintest memory, as fragile as dew kissed by the morning sun. Could it have been just a dream? The thought clawed at you. You hoped not, but the possibility felt plausible. After all, exhaustion had blurred the lines between reality and fantasy. Perhaps your sleep-deprived mind had conjured it all: the weight of his arms around you, the gentle press of his lips, the whispered words.

But just as the doubt began to settle, a soft rustle pulled your thoughts back to the present. The sound grew louder, and you turned your head to see the heart of the matter approaching your hammock once again. Neteyam.

The warrior, as if returning from a long combat, emerged from the soft morning light, his smile radiant and disarming, as if the very sight of you was the highlight of his day. In his hands, he held a woven pouch, bursting with herbs and dried flowers, their scents already filling the air between you.

“For your hammock,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection. He knelt in front of you, holding it out with both hands like an offering. “So that it smells like the forest… and not, you know.” His grin widened, boyish and unguarded, as if he couldn’t help but tease you just a little.

You blinked at him, surprised. “Did you… make this?”

“Of course,” he said proudly, a light laugh escaping his lips. “Well, okay, I asked Grandmother for help. But I picked the flowers myself. Only the best ones, paskalin (sweet berry).”

You brought the pouch to your nose, inhaling deeply. The scent was a perfect blend of calming herbs, delicate flowers, and something distinctly him—earthy, grounding, and utterly familiar.

“Thank you,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. For once, you didn’t try to hide the smile tugging at your lips. “But it’s so early. How’d you find the time?”

Neteyam’s eyes softened as he looked at you, and he reached out, brushing his fingers gently against yours. “Yawne,” he began, his voice steady and full of conviction, “I will always find time for you. Even when I’m busy, even when it feels like the world is pulling us in every direction, you are the first thing on my mind. And I pray you never have to wait so long for me again.”

Before you could respond, he leaned closer, his smile deepening. “It’s always going to be me at the end of the line, no matter what. Remember that for me, please?”

And as if he knew what you had been thinking, his words hit you like a wave, sweeping away most of your doubt like it always did. Before it inevitably crept back in, of course. Yet something entirely else stirred within you as Neteyam leaned in closer. His proximity was disarming, his golden eyes holding you unexpectedly captive. His scent, warm and woodsy, wrapped around you like a second skin, and the sight of him this close—lips parted slightly, his sharp jawline catching the soft morning light—sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded slowly, but it was more out of reflex than control. Your hands tightened around the woven pouch, clutching it as though it could tether you to reality, though your mind was already spinning. Your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest as you couldn’t ignore how weak you felt under his gaze, knees threatening to buckle even though you were sitting.

He tilted his head, studying you with a faint smile tugging at his lips, so achingly handsome that it sent heat rushing through your cheeks.

“Yawne,” he murmured softly, his voice like a caress, “Are you alright?”

Your throat felt dry, and you cursed your inability to speak. You could feel the burn low in your core, an ache you didn’t know how to soothe, and you prayed he didn’t notice the flush creeping up your neck. But the way his eyes flickered over you—intently, as though he could read every thought you didn’t dare say aloud—made you wonder if he already knew.

“I, uh… I’m fine,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered, betraying you. But you summoned a smile for his grace, despite it all, “Thank you, Ma’ Teyam. For this, for everything.”

“Always welcome.” His smile grew, softer now, but laced with that teasing edge he reserved just for you. “Are you sure you’re alright?” His tone was light, but his hand reached out, fingers brushing against the side of your hip down to your thigh. The simple contact made you feel as though your whole body was alight. It was maddening how much power he held over you, how even a fleeting touch could leave you unraveling. You wanted to look away, to collect yourself, but the way he was looking at you—with that intoxicating mix of love and desire—had you rooted to the spot.

“Because,” he added, leaning in just enough for his breath to ghost across your lips, “you look like you’re about to fall apart. And, paskalin, I’m not sure if I should hold you… or let you crumble, just so I can pick up every piece.”

His words sent your mind spinning, and you realized then that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. All you knew was that the heat of him, the weight of his gaze, was utterly consuming, and despite yourself, you wanted to burn.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

Instantly, you demanded, “Pick me up. Bring me to your tent.”

There was no hesitation, no need for clarification. He knew exactly what you were asking, and it sent a flicker of something dangerous and thrilling through his golden eyes. His lips curved into a knowing smile, one that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

Without a word, Neteyam scooped you up effortlessly, his hands firm against your thighs as you wrapped your arms around his neck. The ease with which he held you made you feel small and completely at his mercy, and it only heightened the ache that had been building inside you for far too long.

“Missed me that much, huh?” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety tease as his forehead brushed against yours. The warmth of his breath danced across your skin, igniting every nerve as you struggled to keep your composure. “Almost thought you’d never ask…”

Your fingers threaded into his braids, pulling him just a little closer, your lips barely a breath apart. “Don’t make me regret this, ‘Teyam,” you whispered, though the tremor in your voice betrayed the longing you’d been trying to keep hidden.

“Regret?” He chuckled, a sound so rich and full it made your head spin. “Yawne, you’re about to remember why you never could.”

He carried you swiftly, his steps purposeful as the tension between you crackled like the air before a storm. Every glance he stole, every squeeze of his hands against you, eventually ended with a peck on your lips. And by the time he reached his tent, Neteyam set you down carefully, his eyes burning into yours with an intensity that stole your breath.

His thumb brushed along your cheek, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent chills down your spine. “Loving me might be dangerous, syulang (flower),” he said, his lips ghosting against yours, “but you’re the bravest thing I’ve ever known.”

And in that instant, you knew. You were going to fall for the risk of wanting him as long as you wake, no matter how perilous the drop.

AHHHH thank you for reading!! once again—likes, comments and reblogs are very deeply appreciated. 💞💞

i was wondering, should i have made them kiss? but then i was like nahhhhhhhhhh. i like how the story points to how love can be shown beyond just mere physicality (even if it gets suggestive at some point). it’s cute, don’t you think??

ANYWAYSS, i hope you guys enjoyed and thank you so much @aamircoeur for the request! i’ve definitely gotten a few in the mailbox lately & i’d love for more because i’m on a looooong vacation so i would love to write while i’m free!! if you have any ideas (esp your craziest / complicated ones as long as it’s PG) send em right up! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[mybelovedsylus]

Another day another smutty drabble. You know the drill, no minor interactions please. I’m a Sylus girlie who still quite enjoyed the unhinged Caleb - so I got to thinking. Sylus would definitely want to make sure Caleb knew that you were taken - granted a little OOC cause he likes these intimate moments to be private, but I couldn’t get the idea of him calling Caleb while fucking MC to prove a point… so well that’s what this shit is and that’s your warning. Hope you like it - not edited as always. I'm still working on my smut writing too so forgive me

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sylus knew he was a possessive motherfucker. Of that he had no doubt, but if he did he knew for sure when he had your ankles draped loosely over his shoulder as your phone dialed next to your head on speakerphone.

"You can not be serious right now," you gasped, hands clutching against nothing as Sylus' evol kept them pinned to the bed. Couldn't have you hanging up prematurely now could we? Not when there was a point to be proven.

"Pipsqueak, what's up?"

Sylus sneered as soon as he picked up, like that wasn’t exactly what his intention was. He looked from the phone to you and raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to respond. As you opened your mouth, he slammed all the way home causing a moan to rip out of your throat, which you were quick to try and muffle by biting down hard on your lip. Sylus looked downright gleeful, the red of his eyes practically glowing.

"You okay over there?" Caleb's voice came through gentle but questioning.

"Ye-yeah, just stubbed my toe?" you gasped out but it sounded unsure. Well now that wouldn't do. Sylus leaned down, essentially folding your knees into your chest, which in turn pushed him even further into you which you couldn't help but groan at. His mouth latched on to your peaked nipple, flicking and tweaking it as his hand reached up to lavish the other with similar attention.

"You must have really stubbed it good, do you need me to bring dinner and some medical aid?" Caleb offers sweetly.

"NO!"

There's silence on the line and you glare as Sylus chokes back a laugh as he leans back, resuming a lazy pace and wiping the hair out of your eyes. The sweet gesture is a stark contrast to the debauchery happening here. Sylus is drawing it out, giving slow lazy thrusts that drag every vein and inch over your sensitive spots, dragging you closer and closer to that precipice. You need Caleb to hang the fuck up before that happens.

"I appreciate the - fuck - offer, but really I'll be okay."

You know it comes out like phone sex, airy and deep, but that's because it's like Sylus can read my mind and is trying to get me over the peak as quick as he can - like he wants Caleb to hear just what he does to me. This possessive motherfucker - but also what does that say about you that you find yourself getting wetter at the idea?

"Uh, okay, was that all you called to tell me? That you stubbed your toe, but otherwise you are fine?" Caleb asked. You could tell he didn't believe a word of what you were trying to sell.

"Mhm," you gasp out as Sylus draws tight circles over your clit, picking up the pace of his thrusts. You are starting to wonder if the slap of skin and the rough slide through your wetness is echoing on the phone like it is in your ears.

"Okay," he draws out, suspicion evident in his tone, "I'm just gonna let you go then."

It's too late though. Between the bruising and pistoning pace,and the flicking of your clit, there's not much you can do to hold it back. You try to bite your lip to hold the noises at bay, but Sylus pulls it free with his other hand. He holds your cheeks in a grasp that holds your mouth open, and you cry his name out as your vision goes white and everything in your body pulls taught with your orgasm. He laughs breathlessly, leaning down to suck at the skin of your neck. He turns his head slightly towards the phone, groaning out your name as his hips stutter and he meets you at the peak. He leans more deeply on you, keeping the two of you joined as he reaches over for the phone.

"Aw, looks like your “gege” hung up," he mutters, tossing your phone off the bed as he looks down at you with what you can only say is a boyish smile.

"You are such a possessive asshole, oh my god, how am I ever supposed to look him in the eye again?"

"You can protest all you want, but you were gushing- looks to me like my kitten might have a bit of an exhibitionist in her," Sylus responds with a sly grin, his hand giving a lazy tweak to your overabused clit that makes you jump. You try to pull away and he makes a tsk noise as he follows, ensuring he remains firmly within the snug confines of your walls.

"Where do you think you're going, when did I say I was done with you?"

[lovebugism]

I have an idea for and eddie x reader fic where f!reader really wants to get into dnd but had no idea where to start, and is afraid of getting further teased by family and bullies at school. Tsym, your writing is the best! 🖤🖤

i can't stop writing part twos to stuff apparently, so please enjoy the unofficial second part of this fic! — the new girl learns about the hellfire rumors (shy!r, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of bullying | 1.5k)

A familiar face waits for you outside Mr. Kaminsky’s chemistry lab. Eddie Munson, anticipating your arrival around the corner, grins with all his teeth when his unexpected presence takes you by surprise. 

You stumble back on unsure feet — a little like you had when you first met (though you don’t fall on your ass this time, thankfully) — then smile before you mean to.

“I’ve been going here for two weeks, you know?” you tell the boy towering over you, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I think I know my way around by now.”

Eddie bounces a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Well, better to be safe, don’t ya think?” 

He flashes you a crooked smirk and tosses a leather-clad arm over your shoulder. You notice quickly that he’s got nothing in his ringed hands, not even a backpack, while you carry a mountain of textbooks in your aching arms. 

With Eddie’s help, you weave through the bustling hall of Hawkins High, which would otherwise trample you completely. The crowd seems to part for him instinctively — whether it’s intentional or not, you can’t tell. You don’t think Eddie notices it, either. He guides you to the west end of the school like doing so is muscle memory. You’re starting to think he knows your schedule better than his own.

“A lot of people would pay good money to have me as their personal escort, you know?” he jokes and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. A few untamed curls tickle the apples of your cheek in the process. He scrunches his nose down at you. “So you should be thanking me, really.”

Your face warms for a reason you can’t name. From the close proximity, maybe, or from the weight of your gratitude. Equal parts of both, perhaps. “Thank you,” you murmur shyly.

Eddie falters, sneakers scuffing against the tile. He’s still getting used to how kind you are; and how softly you look at him. “I was— I was being sarcastic. Don’t actually thank me,” he stammers, cheeks flaring pink. “Jeez. You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that?”

You giggle when he sweeps you around the corner. The sound is pretty enough to make him smile, though it ebbs much quicker than he’d like. It takes Eddie a moment too long to realize why, ‘cause he’s too busy ogling at how pretty you are. Which makes the sight before him borderline gagworthy.

“Well,” an infuriatingly familiar voice huffs. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Jason Carver, clad in his bright green letterman, stands at the center of a bunch of guys, also wearing bright green lettermans. 

You recognize a couple of their faces. Andy is the one with the sandy curls who spends all of biology cracking sex jokes. Patrick is the tall one with the Bobby Brown haircut who helped you with your locker once when the combination wouldn’t budge. 

The rest are nameless and unfamiliar. Save for the blonde boy in the middle of them, with the hundred-dollar haircut and the bright white smile. Everything you’ve learned about him has been entirely against your will.

Eddie blinks slowly at the crowd of muscled teens, not nearly as startled by the sight of them as you are. His dark eyes flit to the side, where they crowd at the entrance of the Hellfire room, and then back to Jason. “Well, are you gonna let us through, or do we need a password?” he deadpans.

Jason’s thin lips quirk at the edges. “Where are you guys off to?” 

“You’re a smart guy, Carver. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

The boy’s stone blue eyes dart between the two of you for a moment, before settling finally on you. “He’s not trying to recruit you into his cult, is he?” Jason squints.

Eddie tenses beside you. His warm arm slips from your shoulders and leaves you fighting back a shiver. An agonizing second passes before you get the courage to speak. “C-Cult?” you echo, noticeably unsure.

“Yeah,” Jason nods with wide eyes and a voice that borders on sympathetic. “They’re Satanists— him and all his Hellfire buddies. The five of ‘em? They’re bad news, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s chest tightens. Not because of Jason’s stupid melodramatics (he’s used to those now) but because he’s calling you sweetheart. And you’re not his fucking sweetheart. Eddie knows you’re not his either, exactly, but the principle still stands anyway. 

“Oh! You can count!” Eddie muses with an emotionless laugh. “I bet you know your ABC’s too!”

Jason’s face cracks only slightly. His sharp jaw clenches enough to make his temples shift. His suffocating gaze never wavers from yours. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you. That’s all,” he murmurs like he’s telling a secret, but obviously wanting Eddie to hear all of it. “Don’t get wrapped up in Munson’s shit, alright? He’s dangerous. He’ll swallow someone as sweet as you whole before you can blink.”

When Jason passes you, he caresses your elbow with a touch you assume is meant to be comforting. You tense like he’s burned you instead. He walks on by and takes his friends and too-strong cologne with him.

Eddie grits his teeth and stares daggers down the emptying hallway. He doesn’t want to cause a scene like he typically would — for your sake — but staying silent leaves him with no real place to put his anger. His rage simmers like a fire behind his ribcage, and he keeps it all to himself. Just like Jason wanted.

“Fucking douchebag,” Eddie grumbles as he storms into the Hellfire room. You follow cautiously behind him, watching silently while he paces around the empty classroom. The boy talks wildly with his hands. “I can’t stand him— He’s like a fucking goblin with an intelligence score of zero—”

“What… What was he talking about?” you wonder in a mousy voice, clammy hands wringing. “Back there? About the… the cult?”

“Nothing,” Eddie groans. He huffs and tilts his head back, revealing the tendons of his milky white neck. “He just thinks a couple of nerds playing D&D are worshipping satan, which is just… I mean, he throws balls into hoops in his spare time, but you don’t see me calling him a goddamn neanderthal, do you?”

He turns to face you, wide-eyed, like he’s expecting an answer. Then he sighs, bringing his chin to his chest and hiding behind his hair. “Nevermind. I actually do call him that, so… I guess it’s fair…”

“Does he always bother you like that?” you question, chest sparking with an emotion stronger than you used to. Strangely protective and very foreignly angry.

“Me? God, no— He’s not that big of an idiot,” Eddie scoffs, then turns suddenly serious. His dark eyes narrow across the room at you. “Has he been bothering you?”

You shift your weight under his smothering gaze. “No… Not like that, anyway. I’m usually with you, so… He mostly leaves me alone.”

Eddie sighs. His chest deflates with the heavy breath. He grows quickly shy as he closes the distance between you, arms crossed over his chest like a shield. He averts his gaze and swallows hard. “I’m— I’m sorry, by the way.”

Your brows pinch. “For what?”

He shrugs sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I just… I feel like I should’ve done more—”

“You did enough.”

“—I should’ve stuck up for you.”

“It’s not your job to stop assholes from being assholes, Ed.”

He doesn’t want to smile, but you make it distressingly hard not to. Especially when you’re grinning up at him like you are now. Especially when such vulgar words are spilling from such a pristine mouth.

“Well, I did kinda promise to keep you safe.”

“You have been, Eds,” you tell him with a pretty laugh, smiling so hard you’re squinting. “There’s no one else I’d rather be around, so… That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“That’s just because you’re crazier than I am, sweetheart.”

Your face flares, warmed by the term of endearment — far more when it’s spilling from his mouth than Jason’s. “Well, Hellfire’s for crazy people, I’ve heard. So I guess I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie’s button eyes go wide. His chin falls to his chest as he flashes you a solemn look. “You… You still wanna join?” he wonders, half shocked.

You take his surprise for distaste and cower all over again. “I mean… If you— If you’ll have me, I guess—”

“Of course!” the boy assures, far quicker and far louder than he intended. His voice rings through the empty classroom and he clears his throat, trying to play it cool. “I just thought that after Jason, you’d—”

“Screw Jason,” you blurt, foreignly harsh in a way that makes his heart skip. “I don’t care what he thinks. I like spending time with you.”

A smirk flickers at the very corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Really?”

“Really,” you echo. When you feel yourself start to drown in his chocolate eyes, you turn to the wooden figurines sitting on top of the table beside you. “You’ll have to teach me how to play, though. I have exactly zero clue where to start.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie shrugs, taking a daring step closer. He smirks and fights the urge to hold you — to caress your arm like Jason had, and to erase any remnants of his unwanted touch. His ringed hands tremble with yearning. He balls them into fists at his side. 

He smiles through the aching. “Just means we get to spend more time together, right?”

[daeniradraconis]

I just read age is just a number and I loved it! I would love to see more with them as y/n meets Luke’s parents and friends and the anxiety that can come with that.

Also seeing y/n in the wag life as she seemed to not know they were NHL players!

❤️

Age Is Just a Number… Right? - Part 2.

Summary: Luke Hughes, 6 years younger, seems like the perfect match—effortless and sweet. But when the reality of family, friends, and public attention creeps in, the simplicity starts to fade, and things get more complicated than expected. Welcome to Part 2 of Age Is Just a Number...Right? Warnings: Implied sexual situations, age gap (6 years), online harassment, bullying Note: Hey Lovelies! So here’s Part 2, and I’m so excited you asked for it! Thank you for requesting! Honestly, writing this was a total blast. This one’s a bit different though—it dives deeper into the challenges of the age gap and all the NHL pressure. It’s definitely not all smooth sailing, but I hope you still enjoy the drama!

Also, I swear I wanted to keep it short... and somehow ended up with 20,056 words. I just can’t do short, can I? 😂

For more fun: masterlist❤️

Six months. It’s almost impossible to believe how quickly time has passed since you first stumbled into Luke’s kitchen, skeptical, unsure of what would come next. Now, here you are—half a year into a relationship with him, and yet, some days, you still can't believe it's real.

Luke is perfect. Maybe too perfect, sometimes. He’s mature beyond his years, grounded in a way you’ve always admired but feared was too good to be true. When you first met, that six-year age gap felt like a huge mountain between you—something that might trip you up before you even got started. You worried there would be moments when he'd act too young, too impulsive, and you'd find yourself questioning whether you had made a mistake or whether he was ready for something serious.

But Luke? He’s proven you wrong over and over again.

His calmness, his commitment, and his quiet strength—it all made you realize that maybe age really is just a number. With him, you’ve never felt rushed, never pressured. It’s like he understands the pace you need to move at. He’s steady and unwavering, always ready to meet you where you are, to take it one step at a time. And that’s exactly what you needed. You weren’t ready to dive headfirst into something this serious until you knew it was real.

So you’ve taken things slow. Six months in, you’re still navigating the early stages of your relationship. You haven’t met his parents yet. You haven’t gone to one of his games—though you’d love to, just to see him in that element, doing what he loves. But you’ve both agreed that when those things happen, when you step into those parts of his world, it will be because you’re both sure of what you have. You’re building something strong and lasting.

And it hasn’t been all easy. There’s Jack, of course. He found out about you and Luke pretty much the moment you tried to sneak out after your first date. The cat was out of the bag before you even had a chance to process it. And naturally, that meant Quinn knew too, because Jack was worse than a tabloid. That boy couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it. Though you only saw Quinn a handful of times—mostly through FaceTime when you would pop into the background of Luke’s calls—you could always feel his eyes on you, sizing you up, assessing whether you were really what Luke needed.

You never blamed Quinn. You understood the brotherly protectiveness. It was clear from the start that Luke meant a lot to him, and anyone who stepped into his life had to be worth it. But still, you felt that unspoken judgment. That quiet skepticism that weighed on you, even if it was never voiced aloud. Jack reassured you, though. "He’s just protective," he’d say with a grin. "He’ll warm up to you. Trust me." And sure enough, as the months passed, the tension started to melt away.

It took five months before Quinn finally invited you to dinner. Just a simple gathering—Luke, Jack, you, and Quinn—while Quinn was in the city playing with the Rangers. At first, you weren’t sure how it would go. You knew it wasn’t just a dinner; it was a test. A chance for Quinn to see if what you and Luke shared was the real thing.

The moment you sat down at the table, you felt it: Quinn was watching you. Not like Jack did, with his easy humor and teasing grin, but in that calculating, watchful way that only a protective older brother could. You could almost feel his doubts lingering in the air. Was this just a phase for Luke? Something fleeting? Or was it something real?

You didn’t take it personally. It was hard, but you understood. You knew what came with being in Luke’s life. You’d heard enough stories from Jack and Luke to understand the whirlwind of the NHL lifestyle—the crazy girlfriends, the fleeting connections, the messiness. But you were different. You weren’t here for the money, the fame, or the excitement of it all. You saw Luke for who he really was—the person, the man he was becoming. You knew it wouldn’t be easy, but you were willing to take it slow, to fight for something real.

You held your ground during that dinner. You laughed, you talked, and despite the nerves, you found yourself connecting with Quinn more than you expected. Before long, you were exchanging book recommendations and recipes with him, finding that you shared more in common than you thought. For a moment, the tension eased. You realized you weren’t just some outsider in their world. You were part of it, in your own way.

By the end of the night, Quinn wasn’t just the overprotective older brother anymore. He was someone you could see yourself getting along with, someone you could trust. And he realized it too. What you had with Luke was more than just a passing fling. It was real.

As you looked across the table at Luke during that dinner, his smile so full of pride and warmth, you knew the slow burn of the past months had been worth it. Every carefully measured step, every moment of uncertainty had led to this. The connection you were building with Luke was undeniable, and you were ready for what came next.

With him. For the long haul.

—

The apartment is quiet, save for the soft rustle of pages turning.

You’re curled up on one end of the couch, a book in your hands. At least, it looks like you’re reading, but not a single word has registered in the last fifteen minutes. Across from you, Quinn is stretched out in the armchair, legs casually crossed at the ankle, his own book open in his lap. He’s in town for a game—the Canucks played the Devils last night—but instead of heading straight home for the short break in the season, he decided to stay an extra night. It made sense, with the Michigan trip tomorrow. The four of you—Quinn, Luke, Jack, and you—would be flying out together to celebrate Ellen’s birthday. And since he doesn’t get to see his brothers often, he’s crashing at the apartment for the night.

Unlike you, Quinn actually seems to be reading, his face neutral, focused, like he’s in his own world. Meanwhile, you’re pretty sure you’ve bounced your knee up and down at least twenty times in the last half hour.

Quinn doesn’t even look up when he says, “You’re fidgeting.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

He finally glances at you, raising an eyebrow. “You keep moving. And you’ve been staring at the same page for about ten minutes now.”

You sigh, closing your book with a little more force than necessary. “Didn’t realize you were keeping track.”

Quinn shrugs without breaking his gaze from the page. “Hard not to when you’re sighing like someone just called you for a penalty in overtime.”

You can’t help but laugh softly, but it doesn’t last long. Instead, you stare down at your book again, running your fingers over the creased edges. “I’m just… nervous about tomorrow.”

Quinn doesn’t react immediately, but you can tell he’s listening.

You take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Meeting Ellen and Jim, the whole Michigan trip. Luke’s friends. It’s a lot.”

“They already know about you,” Quinn points out. “Jack made sure of that.”

You roll your eyes, dragging a hand over your face. "Yeah, because Jack never shuts up. Honestly, I'm surprised it took him seven months to blurt it out on FaceTime."

Quinn chuckles, the sound soft and amused. “Yeah, he’s not exactly the type to keep things to himself.”

You smile faintly but shake your head. Jack could be annoying as hell sometimes, but you'd grown to appreciate his cheeky style—though you’d never let him know that. Giving him the satisfaction would only make him worse.

"Still," you continue, "knowing about me is different from actually meeting me. I don’t know... I guess I just feel like I have to prove myself. Like, I need to show your parents I’m good enough for Luke."

At that, Quinn tilts his head, his expression softening with something you didn’t expect—understanding.

“I get that,” he says quietly.

You glance at him, surprised. “You do?”

You blink, taken aback. Quinn always came across as confident, wise—sometimes quiet, but never unsure.

You’re about to ask him to elaborate when he continues, his voice slower now, more reflective.

"Jack’s always been the effortless one, you know?" he starts, a hint of admiration in his voice. "He walks into a room, and people are just drawn to him—like it’s second nature. That charm, that ease… he’s always had it."

There’s no bitterness in his voice—just truth. And you get it. Even though Jack can be a lot at times, Quinn’s right. He’s got that natural charm that makes it impossible not to like him, even when he’s being the most annoying person on the planet.

“And Luke…” Quinn’s voice falters for a second, but he recovers quickly."Luke’s a phenomenal player—and the kindest person you’ll ever meet. I can still hear Dad saying, ‘Look at him, Quinn. He’s only eight, and he’s already better than you were at that age.’"

You frown, your heart tightening slightly, but Quinn keeps going, his words surprisingly soft.

"I had to work my ass off just to keep up," he admits, his gaze dropping to his lap. "Growing up with brothers like mine... it was impossible not to notice the difference. Jack walks into a room, and people light up—he doesn’t even have to try. Luke picks up a stick, and it’s like the game was made for him. They were special. Everyone saw it. Everyone told them. And me? I was good, but never in the way they were. Never effortless. Never undeniable…So I pushed myself. Skated longer, trained harder, did everything I could to close the gap. Because if I wasn’t a prodigy like Luke or magnetic like Jack, I had to be something. I had to earn my place. Prove I belonged. Not just to everyone else, but to myself."

A tightness settles in your chest as his words sink in, striking a little too close to home. You loved being with Luke—he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. But sometimes, the weight of not feeling special enough to be with him was suffocating.

“It’s easy to get caught up in that,” Quinn adds, looking at you now. “Thinking you have to earn your place, like if you don’t, people will start to see you for what you ‘really’ are—not enough.” He gives you a sharp look, and his voice drops a little, more serious. “It’s good to have that drive in sports, but if you start believing you only deserve love and kindness if you prove it every day, it’ll eat you alive.”

Your throat tightens as you meet his eyes. There’s something in Quinn’s expression that feels like he’s not just talking about you—but about himself, too.

“But it’s bullshit,” Quinn continues, the gentleness in his tone surprising you. “People who matter will love you for who you are. You don’t have to prove yourself. Not to Luke, not to anyone. If they don’t see you for what you’re worth—what you bring to the table—it’s their loss.”

You let his words sink in, the knot in your stomach loosening just a little. You want to believe him.

But before you can say anything, the front door swings open with the usual creak, and Jack’s voice fills the apartment.

The familiar sound of Jack and Luke bickering fills the apartment. You steal a quick glance at Quinn, trying to pack everything you feel into one look. You want to thank him for opening up, for comforting you. You want to say something that might ease whatever’s been weighing on him too—tell him you’re sorry he had to go through all of that, and that if he ever needs someone to talk to, you’ll listen.

Quinn meets your gaze, and for a moment, he just nods, a small but genuine smile crossing his face—one that says more than words ever could. Then, without a word, he turns back to his book, flipping the page as if nothing happened.. 

“Dude, you definitely ate half of my roll!” Jack complains, his voice sharp with outrage as he and Luke walk in.

“I didn’t eat half your roll,” Luke counters, rolling his eyes as he kicks the door shut behind him. “I paid for the sushi, Jack. That means I can eat whatever I want.”

Jack huffs dramatically, holding up the takeout bags as if they’re the most precious thing in the world. “You hear that, Quinn? Our baby brother is robbing me blind. I’m practically starving over here.”

Quinn, still curled up in the armchair, doesn’t even glance up from his book. “Sounds like a you problem.”

Luke grins, completely unfazed by Jack’s theatrics. “Yeah, because that makes total sense. I’m here plotting to steal all of your sushi.”

Jack dramatically sighs, but there’s a grin tugging at his lips despite his best efforts. “Whatever, dude. You owe me a roll. Just keep track of it.”

Luke shrugs, tossing the sushi bags onto the counter as if it’s all water under the bridge. “I’ll pay you back next time. Maybe.”

With that, Luke crosses the room and heads straight for the couch where you're sitting. You glance up just as he sits down next to you, his body naturally leaning into yours. Before you can even process it, his lips brush softly against your temple, the gentle touch making your heart skip a beat.

“Miss me?” Luke asks, his voice light, teasing, but there’s something warm behind his words.

You smile, leaning into him slightly. “You were gone for like five minutes.”

Luke gasps, pretending to be hurt. “Five minutes is a lifetime! You should’ve missed me way more.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Maybe. But I’m dramatic because I love you,” he says, his voice turning soft as he tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “I’ll never apologize for that.”

You feel your heart soften, the quiet between you settling in. It’s easy with Luke. Too easy, like you’ve always been meant to share moments like this.

Meanwhile, Quinn is still immersed in his book, but you can hear the soft chuckle in his voice when he finally looks up. “You two are ridiculous.”

Luke grins, glancing over at him with a playful spark in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Captain. Did we interrupt your important reading time?”

Quinn rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re lucky I have important things to do.”

Luke nudges you gently. “Guess we’ll leave you to your important work then.”

Just as you’re about to respond, the bathroom door flies open, and Jack steps in, fixing Luke with a sharp look. "I swear, you took half my roll, but I’ll let it go—just so you can appreciate what an amazing brother I am."

Luke doesn’t miss a beat, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for your endless generosity, Jack.”

Jack shakes his head,“You’re impossible. But whatever, I’ll live.” He glances at Quinn. “You guys hungry?”

Quinn looks up from his book and shrugs, a small smirk on his face. “Yeah, alright. Let’s eat.”

Luke’s arm stays comfortably around your shoulders, pulling you in a little closer as Jack starts unpacking the sushi. He hands you a roll, and without hesitation, you take it, offering a piece to Luke, who grins at you.

“You sure you want to give me that? I might eat it all,” he teases, leaning in to take the piece from your fingers.

You roll your eyes but laugh. “It’s yours, baby. I’m just being nice.”

He takes it anyway, his lips brushing your hand for just a moment. “I’ll always accept nice,” he says, his voice warm and low.

Meanwhile, Quinn and Jack are fully engaged in their own conversation across the room.

“Wait, seriously? You're not hooking up with anyone?!” Jack asks, biting into his roll and glancing over at Quinn. His tone is a mix of playful curiosity and teasing challenge.

Quinn furrows his brow, unsure where this is headed. “Jack…I’ve got other things on my mind right now,” he replies, trying to sound casual but ending up a little too defensive.

Jack raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “Other things, huh? Like you are too busy brooding about your love life?”

Quinn shoots him a look—part amusement, part mild annoyance—but it’s clear there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m not brooding, Jack.”

Jack leans in, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure about that? You’re the type who could use a little fun, y’know. Just a little something to shake things up.”

Quinn sighs, pushing his sushi aside and leaning back slightly. “I’m having fun, Jack. But I don’t need drama or... random hook-ups like you.”

“Oh, come on,” Jack waves a dismissive hand, grinning. “Hook-ups aren’t drama. They’re just... passing moments. You should try it.”

You glance at Luke, stifling a grin as the brothers bicker. Luke notices and leans in, his breath warm against your ear. “Bet you ten bucks Quinn secretly thinks Jack needs a relationship.”

You chuckle softly, meeting his gaze. “You’re probably right.”

Luke shrugs, his grin sly. “He’s a good big brother, always looking out for Jack. But Jack’s more about living in the moment. Quinn doesn’t get that.”

As Jack continues —now full-on teasing about a girl he’s seeing—Quinn leans back, his patience clearly wearing thin but he’s trying to remain composed. “It’s not just about fun, Jack,” he says, his voice steady but earnest. “You need stability. You can’t just hop from one person to the next and think it’s gonna mean anything.”

Jack leans forward, his grin not faltering. “Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro. You should try living in the moment sometime.”

Quinn shakes his head, voice calm but resolute. “Living in the moment is fine, but you can’t run from what really matters forever.”

Jack shrugs again, his smirk widening. “The ‘real thing’? Overrated.”

Luke leans in closer to you, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. “I’ll never be ‘overrated,’ right?”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Never,” you reply, your voice light with amusement.

Luke’s fingers brush yours as he takes another piece of sushi, then presses a quick kiss to your cheeks, his breath warm against your skin.  “Good. Because you know, you’re my real thing,” he says, so quietly that only you can hear.

Your heart flutters as you look up at him, the familiar comfort of his presence pulling you away from the noise around you. Jack and Quinn’s voices fade into the background. Everything feels easy and relaxed, like you could just stay in this moment.

You lean back against Luke, resting your hand on his thigh, your fingers moving in soft, slow circles. You let his words sink in, the quiet meaning behind them making you feel warm, sparking something inside you.

Luke’s voice drops again, near a whisper in your ear. “You’re not listening, are you?”

You shake your head, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Too distracted.”

Luke’s grin widens, his arms tightening around you. “I’m distracting, huh?”

“Definitely,” you reply, the heat of his touch quickening your pulse just a little.

In the background, Jack’s voice rises in exaggerated complaint. “You really need to get a life, Quinn. I’m starting to think you’re allergic to fun.”

Quinn chuckles under his breath, the familiar rhythm of their sibling banter carrying on.

You close your eyes for a brief moment, listening to their back-and-forth, the warmth of Luke’s body beside you, the comfort of silence between you two that feels more intimate than words ever could. This moment—this quiet, easy, perfect moment—feels like something you never want to let go of.

—

Quinn was wrong. Ellen didn’t just dislike you—she made it clear from the start that you weren’t welcome. You still couldn’t figure out why.

You’d arrived in Michigan just a day ago with the boys. Jim, their dad, picked you all up from the airport, and he couldn’t have been kinder. He gave you a big, welcoming hug and even cracked a funny joke about his son. He said he’d always known Luke would end up with an older woman because he was the smartest and most mature of the bunch. Jack and Quinn didn’t seem too thrilled with the comment, but you couldn’t help but feel relieved by Jim’s warmth. He reminded you a lot of Luke—witty, laid-back, and effortlessly easy to talk to.

But when it came to Ellen, it was a completely different story. From the moment she saw you, she made sure you knew you weren’t welcome. Her “kindness” was stiff and calculated. She didn’t ask a single question, didn’t accept your offer to help clean up after dinner, and every time you spoke, she responded with nothing more than the bare minimum. It was so painfully obvious that, by the end of the night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. The boys didn’t seem to notice at first, but the tension between you and Ellen only grew, and it soon became obvious to everyone.

After everyone had gone to rest, you sat down on Luke’s childhood bed, the weight of the evening settling heavily on you. Your chest tightened, and you almost couldn’t hold back the tears.

"Hey," Luke said, his voice gentle as he cupped your face. He sat beside you, pulling you into his lap. "I’m so sorry, darling," he murmured, his voice soft with concern. "I don’t get it. I’ve talked about you with her, and she never said anything. I thought this would be easy... but I’ll talk to her. I promise."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into him as his warmth surrounded you.

You nestle into Luke’s chest, letting his warmth pull you in. His arms tighten around you, offering comfort, but a familiar knot forms in your stomach—one you hadn’t expected to feel again. The way Ellen had treated you, the coldness in her eyes—it hit you harder than you wanted to admit. The doubt that had been lurking in the back of your mind since the beginning, started to creep back in. The same insecurity, the same fear you’d been trying to shake off for months.

You swallow hard, but you don’t let your voice shake as you speak. “It’s not your fault, Luke,” you say, your words soft, almost too soft. “It’s just... she made it feel like I don’t belong here, you know? Like I don’t fit with your family.”

Luke brushes his fingers through your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “You do belong here. I want you here, always,” he murmurs, his voice steady, but you can hear the underlying concern in it.

You nod, but deep down, you’re questioning everything. Am I really good enough for him? That age gap—the thing that had once seemed so insignificant now feels like an undeniable wall, one you can’t climb over. And if Ellen can see it, if she can feel it, maybe it’s a sign that you don’t truly fit into his world after all.

“Maybe... maybe I’m just not what you need,” you whisper, the thought slipping out before you can catch it. “Maybe it’s just harder for me than I thought.”

Luke freezes for a moment, his breath catching as he pulls back slightly to look at you. His eyes are soft, searching, and he lifts your chin with his fingers so you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“What do you mean by that?” His voice is low, gentle, but there’s an edge of worry in it.

You take a shaky breath, fighting back the wave of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. You can’t explain it without sounding ridiculous, so instead, you focus on the doubt tormenting you. “I just... I don’t know. I keep wondering if I’m enough for you. If the age gap will always be something that... that people notice. Or if your family will ever accept me for who I am, not just because I’m with you.”

Luke’s expression softens even more, and he pulls you close again, this time more firmly. “Listen to me,” he says, his voice serious but full of tenderness. “I don’t care about the age gap. I don’t care about what people think or what my family thinks. All that matters is us—what we have together. And if they can’t see that, it’s their problem, not ours.”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying to absorb his words, but the uncertainty still lingers, tucked into the corners of your mind. Luke’s arms tighten around you again, and you feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. He doesn’t say anything more, just lets the silence settle around you, and you let yourself lean into him completely, allowing the weight of everything to fall away—if only for a little while.

“I just want you to know that I’m here,” he adds quietly, his voice almost a whisper now. “No matter what, I’m here. And I’m not letting you go.”

—

The next morning, as the birthday party for Ellen kicks off, the energy in the house is a bit brighter, but your nerves are still on edge. The situation with Ellen hasn’t improved, and you're doing your best to push the unease to the back of your mind. Guests begin to trickle in—family, friends, everyone buzzing around and chatting—but you feel like you're still on the outside, quietly observing.

As soon as Luke’s friends walk in—Ethan, Mark, and Dylan—the room instantly fills with their loud, boisterous energy. You feel a flutter of nerves, but Luke catches your eye, offering you a warm smile and a reassuring squeeze on your shoulder. You stand a little taller.

Ethan is the first to notice you, his gaze flickering between you and Luke.Luke gives a quick, casual introduction, but before you can even get a word in, Ethan’s brow arches, and a kind smile spreads across his face.

"Well, look at this," he says, his voice teasing but laced with curiosity. "Didn't think you'd go for someone a little... more seasoned."

Mark grins and nudges Luke’s shoulders playfully. "Of course he would, Ethan! Luke’s always been Mister Serious when it comes to love. But man, you really hit the jackpot here. Didn’t think you had it in you."

You can’t help but blush a little at their teasing, your cheeks warming. “What can I say? He’s got great taste,” you reply with a playful smile, then turn to Luke, your gaze warm. “And sure, he’s younger—but trust me, he’s all man. And he deserves someone who sees that.”

For a moment, the teasing fades. There’s a brief pause as the words settle in. Luke’s expression shifts, his eyes lighting up with something close to pride. A slow, knowing smile spreads across his face. Without hesitation, he pulls you a little closer, his arm resting around your waist—not for show, not to prove a point, just because it feels right.

Ethan lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I get it. Guess Luke’s not the only one serious about this. You finally found someone who’s in it for real.”

Mark nods, his usual joking tone giving way to something more genuine. “Yeah. Honestly, I wish you could’ve heard all the whining before you two got together.”

“Oh, it was painful,” Dylan adds, shaking his head dramatically. He drops his voice lower, mimicking Luke in an exaggerated, desperate tone. “‘Oh, guys, I just want someone who actually wants something real…’”

Ethan clutches his forehead like he’s in distress. “‘Yeah, all the hot girls only want situationships. It’s terrible. I don’t know how I’ll survive…’”

The group bursts into laughter, and Luke, instead of arguing, just grins wider. He shrugs, completely unfazed. “Laugh all you want,” he says, voice steady. Then he turns to you, his smile softening just a little. “But all the work I put into finding the right person? It was worth it. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

His words land like a gentle touch against your heart, a warmth spreading deep in your chest.

The next hour passes in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. You find yourself caught up in wild university stories, each one more ridiculous than the last. The guys tease you, you fire back just as quickly, and before long, you’re all grinning like old friends. You’re relieved they don’t take the whole situation too seriously—it’s a welcome break from the weight of everything else on your mind. And right now, you could use a little lightness.

But after a while, Luke reaches for your wrist, his touch gentle but firm. “Alright, I’m stealing her for a bit,” he announces, giving the guys a pointed look. “Gotta introduce her to some family members.”

Mark groans dramatically. “Ah, yes. The official tour. Good luck.”

"Don’t let Aunt Carol talk your ear off," Dylan smirks before taking a long sip of his beer.

Ethan leans back with a knowing grin. “And watch out for the cousins—there’s like a hundred of them.”

You laugh, but as Luke leads you away, you quickly realize they weren’t exaggerating. The Hughes family is much bigger than you expected.

For the next forty minutes, you meet what feels like an endless stream of aunts, uncles, and cousins, each one greeting you with warmth and curiosity. But what surprises you most isn’t the size of his family—it’s how effortless Luke makes it all feel.

He guides you seamlessly from one introduction to the next, never once leaving your side. He carries the conversations with ease, knowing exactly when to jump in, when to steer the small talk, and when to give you space to speak. Any moment you start to feel overwhelmed, he’s there—a reassuring glance, a hand resting lightly on your back, a quiet squeeze of your fingers. It’s not just about introducing you to them. It’s about making sure you feel comfortable.

And that’s when it truly hits you.

Luke isn’t just proving something to his family and friends. He’s proving it to you.

Every touch, every word, every small moment—it’s all a reminder. A reminder that this isn’t temporary, that you’re not some passing phase in his life. You belong here, with him, in his world, and he wants everyone to know it.

More than that—he wants you to know it.

And as you watch the way he looks at you, the way he proudly keeps you close, the way he makes sure you feel seen, heard, and respected—it’s undeniable.

Luke isn’t just proud to be with you.

He’s protecting this.

Protecting you.

—

After what feels like the hundredth introduction in a row, you realize you need a break. The constant smiling, small talk, and endless new faces are starting to wear on you. Luke has been incredible—steady, attentive, making everything easier—but even with him at your side, you need a moment to breathe.

“I’m just gonna grab some water,” you tell him softly, squeezing his hand.

He studies you for a second, like he knows you’re feeling overwhelmed, but he nods. “Take your time. I’ll be right here.”

Slipping away, you make your way to the kitchen, relieved to find it empty. You lean against the counter, inhaling deeply, trying to shake the exhaustion creeping in. Just a few seconds of quiet. That’s all you need.

But then, voices drift in from the hallway.

Ellen’s voice.

And she doesn’t sound happy.

“I just don’t understand it,” she says, frustration dripping from every word. “What does she even want with him?”

There’s a pause, then another voice—her friend, quieter, hesitant. “Maybe she really does care about him?”

Ellen lets out a bitter laugh. “Oh, I’m sure she cares. Why wouldn’t she? He’s young, successful, and comes from a good family. But let’s be real—she’s not stupid. She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Your stomach tightens.

“What do you mean?” her friend asks cautiously.

Ellen huffs. “She’s older. She knows time isn’t on her side. She’s probably already thinking about ways to lock him down before he wakes up and realizes what a mistake this is.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Oh, come on,” her friend murmurs. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”

“Is it?” Ellen’s voice sharpens. “You know how these things go. Maybe she’s already hinting at the next step—moving in, getting engaged. And then what? A baby? Accidents happen all the time, don’t they?”

Your heart pounds.

No.

She wouldn’t—she couldn’t think that.

"That’s just the natural progression of a relationship, Ellen," her friend says, though there’s a hint of hesitation in her voice. "And she doesn’t seem like the type who would do that."

Ellen doesn’t hesitate. “Maybe not now. But give it time. She’ll make sure she’s set, one way or another. And then what? Luke’s stuck. Tied down before he’s even had the chance to live his life. He’s too young for this—he should be focused on hockey, his future, not playing house with some woman who’s way older than him.”

Your hands tremble against the counter.

She thinks you’re trapping him. That you’re manipulating him, clinging to him for his money, his name, his future. That you’re selfish enough to take away everything he’s worked for just so you can have stability.

Every ugly thought you’ve ever had about yourself, every insecurity you thought you’d buried, slams into you all at once.

You’re too old for him. He’s too young to know what he really wants. You are holding him back. Maybe one day, he will regret this.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to shove the thoughts away, but they keep coming. The weight of them sits heavy on your chest, suffocating.

It’s unfair. It’s cruel.

Because you know the truth.

You never wanted anything from Luke but him. His love, his presence, the way he makes you feel like you finally belong somewhere. He’s the one who pulled you in, who made you believe this could work.

And yet, here you are, listening to his own mother rip you apart like you’re nothing more than an opportunist.

Tears sting at the back of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

No.

You will not let her do this to you.

You take a shaky breath, lifting your chin.

You could walk out there right now. Confront her. Demand to know how she can say these things when everyone else can see how much you and Luke love each other.

But you won’t. Not yet.

This isn’t the time, and you won’t make a scene—not at Luke’s family gathering, not when he’s worked so hard to make this day special.

Instead, you straighten your shoulders, press your palms against the counter, and take one last deep breath.

You’ll go back to Luke.

Because he is the only thing that matters right now.

But later—when the party is over, when it’s just the two of you—you will talk to Ellen.

One way or another, this conversation is happening.

Because no matter what she thinks, no matter what doubts she tries to plant in your head, there’s one thing you know for sure.

You love Luke, and you're not going anywhere. You won’t let the dark thoughts take over.

—

When the party winds down and the last of the guests have left, the house settles into a peaceful quiet, a soft hum lingering in the air. The only sounds coming from outside are the occasional bursts of laughter from the porch, where Luke and his brothers sit with Jim, sipping their drinks and listening to some old country music.

You were out there with them for a while, curled up next to Luke, letting the warmth of his presence chase away the lingering sting of what you’d overheard. But no matter how much you tried to push it down, it’s still there—Ellen’s words, the accusations, the way she spoke about you like you were some kind of threat to her son’s future.

You can’t let it go.

So you slip inside, your pulse quickening with every step through the quiet house. You find Ellen in the kitchen, wiping down the counters, her expression calm—like she hasn’t just spent the evening making you feel like a complete fraud.

She doesn’t even glance your way, let alone acknowledge you with a hi. So, you’re the one who finally breaks the silence.

“I heard what you said earlier,” you say, your voice quieter this time, but no less firm. “About me. About why you don’t think I belong with Luke.”

Ellen tenses but doesn’t look at you. Not yet. “I assume you didn’t like what you heard.”

You let out a soft, humorless laugh. “No. But I think I get it.” You hesitate for a second before continuing, forcing yourself to push past the knot in your throat. “The truth is, Ellen, I’ve had all of those same fears. Maybe even worse ones.”

That gets her attention. She looks up, eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale, gripping the back of a chair as you gather your thoughts.

“When I met Luke, I didn’t even know who he was. I didn’t know he was in the NHL, I didn’t know he was 21. Hell, I didn’t even know his last name the first time we talked.” You shake your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips. “If I had known? I probably wouldn’t have let myself get close to him. Because I never intended for any of this to happen.”

Ellen watches you carefully, arms crossed, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“I fought it,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “You have no idea how much convincing it took for me to even give this a chance. Luke… he saw something in me from the start, something I didn’t even see in myself. He was patient. He never pushed, never made me feel like I had to be anything other than who I was. And when I told him I wasn’t sure? That I was scared? He just waited. He let me take my time.”

You swallow hard, your fingers tightening around the back of the chair you’re standing behind. “That’s why we kept it quiet. For seven months, Ellen. Not because we were hiding, but because I needed to be sure. Because I needed to know that this wasn’t just some fleeting thing for him. That it wasn’t just… a phase, or a rebellion, or some naive fantasy. I needed to know that what we had was real before I let myself believe in it.”

Ellen’s expression shifts for the first time, and you catch a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe understanding—but you still can’t read it completely.

But you’re not done yet.

“I never wanted to be some scandal. Some headline. Some… joke to people who think they know our relationship just because they know his name.” Your throat tightens, but you push through it. “I’ve never even been to one of his games. Not once. Because I’m terrified of what people will say about me. About us. About how I’m ‘too old for him’ or ‘using him’ or—” Your voice breaks slightly, but you shake your head, forcing yourself to continue.

“You think I don’t lie awake at night wondering if I’m what’s best for him? If I should just—walk away before the world does everything it can to tear us apart?” You let out a shaky breath. “Because I do.”

Ellen looks at you then, really looks at you. For the first time, she doesn’t seem like an overprotective mother searching for someone to blame.

She just looks like a mother who’s scared.

You exhale, your voice barely above a whisper as you speak, “You’re not the only one scared of me hurting him, Ellen. I’m terrified of it, too.”

Ellen listens, her eyes focused, waiting for you to continue. You swallow hard, your chest tightening as you try to steady your nerves.

“I know the fans don’t even know about me yet, but I can already see it. Once they do, it’ll blow up. All over social media, rumors flying, and people judging him—judging us—just because I’m older. I don’t want him to have to deal with that kind of pressure. Not when he’s already got so much on his plate.”

You run a hand through your hair, the weight of it all sinking in like a stone in your stomach. “And his teammates... What if it makes things weird for him? He’s worked his whole life for this. The last thing I want is to be the thing that complicates his career, or makes him feel like he has to choose between me and them.”

Your eyes meet Ellen’s, filled with doubt, uncertainty. “I just don’t know if he’s ready for all that... for everything this could mean.”

A heavy silence settles between you, not suffocating, but thick with the gravity of your words. Ellen’s gaze drops for a moment, her hands gripping the edge of the counter like she’s trying to hold herself steady, as if your fears have somehow shifted something in her.

Finally, she speaks.

“I—” She stops herself, exhales sharply. When she looks at you again, there’s something different in her eyes. Not quite acceptance, but maybe the beginning of understanding.

“I didn’t know any of that,” she admits with a flat voice.

“No,” you say softly. “You didn’t.”

She presses her lips together, glancing out the window at Luke, who’s still outside with his brothers, laughing, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside. When she turns back to you, her expression is unreadable. “You drink?” she asks, tone even.

You nod without a second thought. “I do now.”

For the first time since you walked in, the corner of her mouth twitches—just a hint of amusement, barely there but enough to notice.

—

​​The tension in the kitchen finally eases, and for the first time tonight, the air feels lighter. Ellen, usually so cold, is now leaning against the counter, sipping her gin and laughing with you. The sharpness in her gaze has softened, replaced with a warmth you never expected to see.

“I’ll tell you something,” she says, her words slightly slurred, “I didn’t expect this to be my night.” She chuckles, a soft, genuine laugh that catches you off guard. “But it’s good to let the walls come down every once in a while, huh?”

You nod, amused by how effortlessly she’s transformed. “Yeah, it’s surprising,” you admit, feeling genuinely relaxed now. “But I think we’re getting somewhere.”

“Oh, we definitely are,” Ellen agrees, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But you wanna hear something really fun? Luke… oh boy, Luke was a mess with his first crush.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Luke? Mr. Charismatic?”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen says, practically grinning. She lowers her voice, leaning in like she’s about to share the juiciest secret. “I remember this girl. He practiced for days in front of the mirror, building up the courage to ask her to the school dance. I’m standing in the hallway, praying for him, and he goes up to her and says, ‘Hi… um… so… would you maybe… like, want to… uh, go with me to the event?’” She mimics his awkward tone, twisting her face in that exact “I’m-so-embarrassed” expression. “The poor kid froze. It was so bad, I had to leave the room because I couldn’t stop laughing.”

You try to stifle your laughter, but it escapes in a burst. “No way, Luke? He really did that?”

“Oh, yes,” Ellen confirms, shaking her head with a grin. “That’s my boy. The ‘charismatic’ one.” She takes another sip of her drink, voice dropping even lower. “But wait. There’s more.”

Your eyes widen, knowing you’re in for something worse.

“Oh yeah,” she smirks, clearly loving the moment. “Let’s talk about Luke’s first real kiss. He was about 15, hanging out at a friend’s party. He finally found the courage to kiss this girl he’d been eyeing all night, and everything was going fine. They’re talking, laughing, and then—he goes in for the kiss. And completely misses. Right past her lips, straight into her nose.” She pauses, relishing the buildup. “She’s standing there, totally confused, and Luke? He freaked out and bolted. Literally ran out of the party like a man on fire.”

You burst into laughter, barely able to catch your breath. “No way! He missed the whole thing?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ellen says, not missing a beat. “And then he spent the next hour Googling ‘how to kiss a girl.’ I had to give him a whole lesson on lip placement.” She shakes her head, still grinning. “I thought I was going to die of second-hand embarrassment.”

Just as you think you can’t laugh any harder, the door creaks open.

Jack steps into the kitchen, eyes widening at the sight of the empty bottles and the two of you clearly well into your cups.

“What the hell is going on in here?” Jack asks, a mix of confusion and amusement on his face, though his grin is practically splitting his face in two. You can tell without a doubt that he overheard your conversation with Elle. His eyes flick to Luke, who’s right behind him, his face already bright red. “Wait, you’re telling me that’s actually true? You missed your first kiss?”

Luke freezes, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “I—look, it wasn’t a big deal. I was nervous, alright? Cut me some slack.”

Jack’s grin widens, clearly delighted. “Oh man, this is perfect. Finally, something else embarrassing about Luke I can hold over his head.” He laughs to himself before adding, “I thought I knew all the stories. This one’s gold.”

Before Luke can recover, Ellen jumps in, her voice rising as she relishes the moment. “Oh, we’re not done yet, Jack. Remember when I found Luke’s ‘dating handbook’ when he was 16? A whole book, filled with tips like ‘how to avoid awkward silences’ and ‘perfect first date questions.’” She practically slams her glass down, savoring every second of Luke’s embarrassment.

Luke looks like he’s about to vanish into thin air. His hands are buried in his face, but it’s no use—his brothers are on a roll.

Quinn walks in, laughing, with Jim right behind him, grinning widely. “Wait, what? A book? Oh man, I’m dead.”

Luke tries to defend himself. “Guys, please. I was just… figuring things out.”

Jim gives Luke a dramatic pat on the back, his voice dripping with exaggerated sympathy. “Don’t worry, son. We’ve all been there. I remember when Jack asked me—at 18—how to know when it’s the right time to hold hands.” He pauses for effect, letting the silence hang. “At 18!”

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, practically gasping for air. “Oh my god, Jack?! Mr. ‘I’m your Prince Charming, Flirt King’ himself?”

Jack’s face goes pale, and his expression shifts to pure horror. It’s his turn to turn bright red now. “Dad! You promised it was gonna stay between us!”

The kitchen is filled with laughter, and your cheeks start to hurt from smiling so much.

Ellen takes another sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eye as she winks at you. “You think that’s bad? Just wait until I tell you about the time I caught Quinn on his computer, searching for… let’s say, questionable content. I almost had a heart attack. I thought he was watching a documentary on the history of hockey… but nope. Wrong side of the internet.” She smirks, clearly enjoying herself. “And, for the record, I learned something that day. Quinn’s type is definitely Latinas.”

Quinn, who’d been casually sipping his beer while leaning against the kitchen arch, nearly chokes on the drink. His face turns bright red as well. “MOM, STOP!”

The whole room bursts into laughter again.

Ellen, a little tipsy but clearly loving the chaos, glances at you with a softer, more genuine smile. Her voice, though still playful, carries a hint of warmth. “But Luke’s a good kid, you know. A little awkward, a little goofy, but…” She pauses, her eyes softening as she looks at Luke, then back to you. “…but he’s got a heart of gold.”

You take a deep breath, wiping away tears of laughter. “Oh, I know, Ellen. I’m one lucky woman to have him in my life.”

Luke looks at you with so much love in his eyes, his gaze shifting between you and his mother, a soft smile on his face. You can see the relief wash over him.

You wink at him, giving him a silent sign that everything is going to be alright.

Ellen takes another sip, her tone shifting into something more sincere. “I’m sorry for all the tension earlier. Luke is lucky to have you as well.”

Luke meets her eyes and sends a warm, loving smile to his mother. He steps over to you, wrapping his arm around you and planting a short, warm kiss on your forehead. “Thanks for sticking around for this disaster,” he says quietly, whispering in your ear, his voice full of meaning.

“Of course, honey! You can’t get rid of me that easily!”

—

You never imagined you’d miss Michigan that much. But back in Jersey, the difference hit you hard. Life here was faster, louder, and more chaotic. The NHL season was in full swing, and the Devils were struggling. With every loss, the pressure on Luke grew, and so did the distance between you two. His mind was consumed by the game, leaving little room for anything else. You could feel the weight of his career slowly pushing you apart. The whole situation felt like it was constantly testing your ability to balance everything, but you knew you had to figure it out.

So, without thinking too much, you made the decision to move in with Luke and Jack. You didn’t want things to feel so difficult. Luke had already sacrificed so much, supporting you through everything. Now, it was your turn to make the sacrifice—to make it easier for him.

The adjustment wasn’t instant. Between Luke’s demanding schedule and the pressure from the season, there were days when it felt like everything was pulling in different directions. But you found a way to make it work. You took a new job with more flexible hours, something that would allow you to be there for him more consistently. It wasn’t just about giving him space—it was about creating the kind of life together where you could both feel secure and steady, no matter how busy or intense his career became.

Living with Luke and Jack brought its own challenges, but it also gave you the chance to help shoulder some of the burden. You worked from home most days, only going into the office once a week. You kept the apartment tidy, cooked meals, and made sure they always had something warm to come home to. Even Jack, who kept up his usual tough-guy act, showed signs of how much the season was getting to him. You could tell the losses were affecting him too. And though Luke remained a rock for everyone around him, the weight of the season was clearly taking its toll.

Luke insisted on covering everything—rent, utilities, groceries. He wanted to spoil you, but you couldn’t just let that happen. You needed to contribute, to show that you were just as invested in making this work. You wanted to take care of him, take care of them, and make sure they all felt supported during this time of stress. The more you learned about the pressures of his life, the more you were ready to do whatever it took to ease his burden, even if it meant adjusting your own life to make it easier for him.

One evening, not long after you’d moved in, you and Luke were curled up on the couch, watching a game. You didn’t fully understand hockey, but the Leafs were playing, and if you were being honest, they were the other team you secretly enjoyed watching. In fact, if you weren’t so loyal to Luke, you might have even liked them better—something that always made him laugh. You’d deny it every time, swearing your heart belonged to the Devils, but he always saw right through you.

Between plays, Luke glanced at you, his expression turning serious. “I know you want to take things slow and everything,” he started, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your thigh. “But I was thinking… maybe you could come to my game this weekend.”

Your breath hitched slightly, and he must have noticed because he quickly added, “The guys already know about you, so it wouldn’t be a big deal or anything. We don’t have to post anything online, but I don’t want to hide you.” His voice was firm, certain. “I want the world to know you’re mine.”

You hesitated, nerves flickering in your stomach.

“The Devils are playing the Leafs,” he continued, knowing that might tip the scales in his favor. “So, technically, you’ll be seeing both of your favorite teams.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “You act like I’m a Leafs fan.”

He smirked. “You are a Leafs fan. You just refuse to admit it.”

A few months ago, the very thought of agreeing to this would have terrified you. The idea of stepping into the spotlight, facing criticism, and becoming visible would have been enough to send you into a spiral. But after everything you had been through with Luke, you knew one thing for sure: you trusted his love.

A slow smile spread across your lips as you nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

Luke blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—that’s it?”

You laughed at his shock. “Yep, that’s it.” You leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Because I love you, Lukey. You stood by me when I was scared, when I didn’t trust this, when I wasn’t sure I could handle it. You were patient, you fought for us—even when your family made it hard. I want to be there for you too. I want to be the girlfriend in the stands, screaming my lungs out for you.”

His grin was instant, boyish and bright. “God, I love you,” he murmured before pulling you into a deep kiss.

You smirked as you pulled back, your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “I can’t wait for the weekend,” you teased, watching his lips twitch in amusement as you both turned back to the game. The Leafs were destroying Montreal, and you grinned. “Do you think I can meet Woll?”

Luke groaned, shaking his head. “You’re insane,” he said, but there was nothing but fondness in his tone. “But if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

You giggled, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m just teasing. But you really are the best, honey. Thanks for offering.”

Luke’s large palm slipped under your pajama top, fingers trailing slow, teasing patterns against your skin. His touch sent a shiver through you, the warmth of his palm settling just below your ribs, dangerously close to your breast. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Of course, baby,” he murmured, dipping his head to press open-mouthed kisses along your jaw. “I love seeing you happy.”

His tongue traced light, deliberate circles on the sensitive spot beneath your ear, and a soft whimper slipped from your lips.Your fingers trailed down his chest, moving lower, before wrapping around his cock in a slow, languid stroke. He tensed beneath your touch, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as his head fell against your shoulder.

"If I knew you’d be this grateful just for the chance to meet Woll," he rasped, voice thick with amusement and something darker, "maybe I should set up a whole meet-and-greet."

You chuckled, your touch slow and purposeful. “Oh, let me give you a real taste of my gratitude…”

And just like that, all thoughts of hockey, public appearances, and game-day nerves melted away.

—

The hum of the arena is deafening as you step inside, the rush of energy from the crowd crashing over you like a wave. The lights pulse overhead, casting a bright glow over the ice below. You’re here for Luke, to support him, to cheer him on the way a girlfriend should, but there’s something about this place—the cold air, the flashing cameras, the subtle glances—that makes your nerves spike.

You knew this was going to be hard.

Dating someone like Luke—someone young, rising, and constantly in the public eye—was never going to be easy. The moment your relationship became public, you knew the scrutiny would follow. You had braced yourself for it, told yourself that the people who mattered—Luke, his family, his friends—knew your heart. But now, standing in the heart of it all, the weight of their eyes on you, the quiet whispers just loud enough to hear, it felt real.

Luke had reassured you before you left. He had watched you fuss over your outfit for way too long, smoothing out invisible wrinkles, reapplying your lip gloss three times, making sure everything was just right. He had only smiled, stepping behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Babe, you look amazing,” he had murmured. “But none of this matters. Just enjoy the night, okay? That’s all I care about.”

You had nodded, comforted by his words, but now? Now, under the luminous glow of the arena, your stomach was twisting.

The energy inside the arena was electric, the kind of buzz that sent chills up your spine. Fans decked out in red and blue roared with excitement as the players hit the ice, their sticks tapping against the boards, the sharp sound cutting through the deafening noise. You should’ve been excited—this was Luke’s big game, your first official game as his girlfriend.

But all you felt was nerves.

You sat with the WAGs, hands folded tightly in your lap as you tried to shake off the anxiety bubbling in your chest. Some of the women were nice—really nice, actually. Reanne, Curtis Lazar’s wife, was a breath of fresh air. From the moment you sat down, she had gone out of her way to make you feel welcome, chatting with you like you’d been friends for years. She had this warmth about her, something easy and kind, and it helped, a little.

But then there were the others.

The ones who barely acknowledged your existence. The ones who offered tight, forced smiles when you caught their eye, then turned away just as quickly. And then there were the ones who didn’t bother hiding their disdain at all.

You tried not to let it get to you. You focused on the game, let Reanne fill in the gaps whenever you looked lost, and even managed to enjoy yourself. For a while, it almost felt normal.

Until you heard them.

“She’s way too old for him... And what’s with those thighs? She could crush him with those things.”

The words were whispered but loud enough to make your stomach sink.

“I know, right? She looks like she’s been spending all her time in the gym, but not in a good way. It’s like, too much muscle, too little femininity.” Another voice scoffed, clearly enjoying the cruelty.

You clenched your fists, refusing to look at them, keeping your focus locked on the ice.

You knew you were strong, and you had worked hard for the body you had. You’d been a big runner—the kind of runner who had thick thighs and a solid ass from hours on the pavement.

You used to take pride in it. It was why you crossed the finish line of that half marathon when no one thought you could.

But now, their words—those cutting comments—had you questioning everything you’d once felt proud of.

Reanne’s body stiffened beside you, her hand gripping her drink so hard you thought it might shatter. You could feel her holding back, ready to snap. But before she could, another voice joined in, the laugh sharp and cruel.

“Seriously, she has to be in it for the money. Why else would someone her age be with a kid fresh out of college?”

Laughter. Actual laughter.

Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your palms.

You shouldn’t care. You knew this would happen. You knew people would judge. But knowing didn’t make it easier.

And then you saw it.

A few rows ahead, a girl had her phone out, camera angled just right.

She was recording.

Your breath caught in your throat.

She wasn’t recording the game.

She was recording them. Recording their words. Recording you.

Your chest felt tight, your pulse hammering in your ears. You wanted to look away, to pretend it wasn’t happening, but you couldn’t. You were frozen, caught in this horrible moment, trapped between humiliation and the overwhelming desire to disappear.

The rest of the game passed in a blur. You barely saw Luke on the ice. You barely heard the cheers, the commentary, the final buzzer signaling the end of the third period. By the time you snapped out of it, everyone around you was standing, gathering their things, filing out toward the exits.

Reanne touched your arm gently. “Hey,” she murmured, her voice filled with concern. “Are you okay?”

You forced a smile and nodded. “Yeah, just tired.” It was a lie, but you said it anyway.

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. Instead, she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t let their words get to you. Luke loves you, and that’s all that matters.”

You walked out of the arena, blending into the sea of fans, trying not to let it show—trying not to let the weight of their words sink too deep.

And you almost made it.

But then, later that night, the video surfaced.

You saw it before Luke did. Before anyone did.

A clip, grainy but clear enough. Voices sneering, words like knives. The comments were already rolling in, tearing you apart.

"Imagine being this insecure 💀"

"She looks so uncomfortable, lol. Like she knows she doesn’t belong."

"Luke deserves WAY better than this. Yikes."

"She’s literally just a glorified babysitter at this point 😂"

"Does she think having a nose that big makes her look sophisticated? Girl, it’s giving witch vibes."

"Her thighs look like they belong in a bodybuilding competition, not on a woman supposedly ‘dating’ someone half her age. 🚩"

"She’s trying so hard to act unbothered, but it’s actually embarrassing to watch."

"Granny’s out here desperately trying to keep up with the younger crowd. It’s kinda sad, tbh. 👵"

"What does Luke even see in her? It’s definitely not her looks. 😬"

"Her whole vibe is just ‘clinging to relevance.’ She’s obviously using him for attention."

These were the milder ones. The others were worse—full of venom, wishing harm on you, calling you a slut, and throwing out every vile insult they could think of.

The comments made you feel sick, a weight settling in your chest that you didn’t know how to shake. You’d never felt this insecure before—not like this. You’d had your struggles when you were younger, moments of doubt about your body, but you grew past them. You were strong, healthy, confident. But now? Now, their words crawled under your skin, making you question everything. And worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop.

But you didn’t tell Luke.

You couldn’t bring yourself to. He was always so strong for you, always there when you needed him. You wanted to do the same for him—be there on his game day, support him, and not add to the weight he was already carrying.

So you swallowed it down.

You went home with him, pretended everything was fine, let him kiss you, let him hold you. And only when he grabbed his book and started reading, you slipped into the shower.

You strip off your clothes, the chill of the bathroom air prickling your skin. As you step into the shower, the scalding water rushes over you, its heat wrapping around you, though it does little to quiet the chaos inside. The cold porcelain presses against your back, a sharp contrast that should bring you back to the present—but even that isn’t enough. You feel trapped. The cruel words from earlier echo in your mind, the judgment, the harshness, circling you like a storm you can’t outrun.

You’re ashamed of yourself for feeling weak. For letting it get to you. But despite your best efforts to keep it together, the tears come. And this time, you don’t fight them.

They fall freely, hot and relentless, and for the first time tonight, you allow yourself to feel the weight of it all. You spend what feels like hours under the running water, each tear that falls stripping away a little more of the armor you’ve been wearing all day.

Luke knocks gently on the door after a while. His voice is soft, just outside the bathroom. “Hey, are you okay in there?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and force a shaky breath, brushing the wet strands of your hair away from your face. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, your voice betraying you. “Just wanted to wash my hair.”

Eventually, you rinse the last of the tears away, the water now lukewarm against your skin. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to steady your hands as you turn off the shower. The silence in the bathroom is almost suffocating, but it’s better than the weight of the words still lingering in your mind.

You wrap a towel around yourself, trying to gather your thoughts. You take a moment to compose yourself before stepping out, the cold air hitting you once more. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, not recognizing the person looking back.

With a final, shaky breath, you step out of the bathroom, the cool air hitting your damp skin. Your heart feels heavy, the weight of the night still pressing down, but with each step toward the bedroom, the tightness in your chest loosens—just a little.

You force a smile onto your face, though it feels more like a mask than anything real. 

Luke is lying on the bed in just his boxers, scrolling through his phone. Your heart skips a beat as you take in his tall, athletic frame. His hair is still damp from his post-game shower.

"Luke, I’m so proud of you tonight," you say, sitting down beside him and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "The whole team was amazing. I can’t believe you guys beat the Leafs! You really played your hearts out."

He smiles at you, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes. You try to ignore it.

“I’m gonna make us some hot chocolate to celebrate,” you add, standing up. “I know how much you love it after a game.” You try to sound upbeat, like everything is fine, but as you turn toward the door, you feel his hand gently catch yours.

“Hey,” Luke says softly, pulling you back toward the bed. “Why didn’t you talk to me about the video?”

You freeze.

He’s holding you close now, his gaze steady, but there’s a quiet hurt in his eyes. “I saw it online. And I saw the comments as well. I… I don’t want to push you, but I need to know why you didn’t tell me.”

You bite your lip, your heart hammering in your chest. This is the moment you’ve been avoiding. You feel all your walls start to crumble.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know you have so much on your plate—your career, the pressure from the team. And I—I didn’t want to be another thing weighing you down. But when I saw those comments, when I heard what they said tonight… I just—I felt like I didn’t belong. Like I’m too old, too ugly, not thin enough… like…I just—”

Your voice wavers, thick with emotion, but Luke doesn’t rush you. He just waits, patient and steady, his eyes soft with understanding as he gives you the space to let it out.

“I think this was my breaking point,” you admit, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been fighting from the start—trying to prove myself to everyone. And I know you’ve been fighting too—don’t get me wrong, I know you’ve had my back every step of the way. But first, it was Quinn, questioning if I was really with you for the right reasons. Then your mom, who hated me from the beginning. I know they all love me now, but it wasn’t easy. It’s been so stressful, Lukey.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “And then today at your game... what those girls said about me—it hit hard. I tried to brush it off, but then someone recorded it and posted it online. I felt humiliated, Luke. And when I checked the comments... they were brutal. Nasty, hurtful things. It’s messing with my head, and I don’t know how to ignore it anymore. I’ve never been this insecure. But ever since we’ve been together, all I hear is that I’m not enough. Not pretty enough, not young enough, not enough to be your partner.”

Your voice catches, a quiet sob slipping through before you can stop it. The moment it does, Luke moves. He doesn’t hesitate—he just pulls you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a shield. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your damp hair as he holds you close.

"I just… I wanted today to be about you, not about me." A shaky breath escapes you as you drop your gaze, fingers twisting nervously in your lap. "You played so well tonight, and all I wanted was to celebrate you. But instead, I let this—let them—get to me. And I hate that."

Luke exhales softly, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. When he speaks, his voice is quiet but sure, full of something unshakable.

“You are more than enough,” he murmurs, the words sinking into you like warmth on a cold night. “You always have been. You always will be. You’re everything to me.”

Luke doesn’t let go. His arms stay wrapped around you, his hand resting against the back of your head like he’s trying to shield you from the weight of the world. You don’t realize how tightly you’re clinging to him until he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from your cheek.

For a moment, he just studies you, his gaze searching, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of your face. Then, without a word, he reaches over to his nightstand, pulling open the drawer. You watch as he hesitates for just a second before pulling something out, something small, something that glints under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

A ring with a stunning, oversized diamond that catches the light with every movement.

Your breath faltered.

“I need you to listen to me,” Luke says, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—something raw, something real. He holds the ring between his fingers, turning it slightly so the light bounces off the metal. “I’m not asking you anything right now, okay? So don’t freak out.”

You blink, heart hammering in your chest.

He exhales, a quiet laugh escaping, but there’s no nervousness in his expression—only certainty. “I bought this after our first date.” His eyes flicker up to yours, searching for your reaction. “After you left my apartment that night… I just knew. I knew what I wanted. What I wanted with you.”

Your lips part, but no words come out.

Luke swallows hard, his fingers tightening around the ring like it holds the weight of everything he feels for you. His eyes never leave yours, soft yet unwavering, full of a love so deep it steals the breath from your lungs.

“I didn’t buy this because I thought we’d rush into anything,” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I bought it because from the moment you walked out of my apartment after our first date, I knew.” He pauses, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, tracing invisible patterns on your skin. “I knew that someday, this is where we’d end up. That no matter how much time passed, no matter what life threw at us, it was always going to be you.”

Your throat tightens, tears pooling in your eyes, but they don’t fall—not yet.

Your breath catches, and Luke lifts your hand, pressing the ring into your palm, letting you feel the solid weight of it.

“You are my safe place,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your skin, warm and reassuring. “No matter what happens in my career—if I have the best season of my life or if I screw up every game—I know I get to come home to you. And that means more to me than anything.”

Your fingers tremble as they curl around the ring, feeling the cool metal press into your skin.

Luke’s lips twitch into a soft, knowing smile, his dimples peeking through. “I’m not asking you to marry me right now. I know you’d think it’s too soon, and I want to do this right—when you're ready. But I need you to know… this is my plan. You are my plan.” His voice drops lower, thick with love, with certainty. “I want to spend my life with you. I want to wake up next to you every morning and fall asleep with you every night. I want a house filled with love and warmth. And laughter—so much laughter.” His grin widens, eyes sparkling. “Kids' laughter. A lot of kids, running around, driving us crazy, making our house a home.”

A tear slips down your cheek, but you’re smiling, your heart so full it feels like it might burst.

Luke lifts a hand, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb before cupping your face. “I just needed you to know that no matter what anyone says, no matter what doubts creep into your head… you are everything I have ever wanted. And one day, when the time is right, I’m going to put this ring on your finger for real.” Luke’s thumb traces slow, soothing circles against your cheek, his gaze still locked onto yours. “Just promise me one thing,” he murmurs. “Be honest with me. Always. No more hiding when you’re hurting, no more keeping things in because you think you have to protect me. We’re a team, okay? You and me.”

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his eyes making it impossible to look away. You nod, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper. “I promise.”

And then, the words just spill out—because how could you not say them?

“I love you, Luke.” Your voice is full of emotion, thick with everything you feel for him. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes.” A watery laugh escapes as you shake your head. “And I know it sounds ridiculous, but I want this too. The house, the laughter, the kids running around and driving us insane. I want all of it. With you.”

Luke’s smile is so wide, so full of love, that it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs. But you’re not done. Because it’s not just the big things—it’s the little things too.

“I love how you have to eat the same exact snack after every game because you’re convinced it’s good luck, even though you definitely don’t need it,” you tease, nudging him playfully. “I love the way you belt out the wrong lyrics to every song in the shower like you’re performing at Madison Square Garden.”

Luke lets out a laugh, shaking his head, but you can see the way his ears turn red.

“And I love that you send me the dumbest texts—even when we’re literally in the same apartment,” you add with a grin. “Like, do you really need to text me just to ask if we have ice cream when you could just open the freezer?”

His laugh is full and unguarded, his arms tightening around you as he buries his face in your neck. “Okay, that one’s fair,” he admits, voice muffled against your skin.

You tilt your head back, looking at him, feeling completely at home in his arms. “I love all of you, Luke. The good, the bad, the absolutely ridiculous.” Your voice softens as your fingers trace along his jaw. “And no matter what happens—no matter what anyone says—you’ll always be my favorite thing.”

Luke exhales, his forehead resting against yours, his hands holding you like he never wants to let go. “You have no idea how much I love you,” he whispers.

You smile, tilting your chin up just enough to brush your lips against his. “I think I do.”And when he kisses you, slow and deep, you know without a doubt—this is it. This is home. He is home. Sequel: Jack's story

[revelboo]

Oh my gosh, The “Everything is Alright” drama just slowly ripling outward is so so juicy. Devouring this! Ur writing is so good. Every fic being gently connected is so fun. TY for the food!

I’m glad you enjoy my nonsense!

The pointy cryptid arrived!

Everything Is Alright Pt 121

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Watching Soundwave inspect your soft hands, turning them over in his and rumbling unhappily at the sight of your bleeding knuckles where you’d lashed out at Starscream, Megatron lays back on the berth. Unable to watch those two fussing over you, unable to deal with the problem of your lifespan along with your sparkling. And someone has to be full size and ready to defend their family. That thought catching him off guard. Is that what they are now? Fragged over by the universe into the most dysfunctional family ever. “Someone needs to teach you how to throw a punch,” he mutters. “You’re awful at it.”

• Almost laughing despite yourself, you hate that you want to relent. To bury your face against Starscream and soak in the warmth and familiarity of him. But know it’s a trap. “I can’t do this again. I won’t.” Glancing at Megatron, you tug your hand from Soundwave. Why can’t this be simple? Because you’re greedy and want more than you should. Because something is wrong with you and you can’t decide. “No more lying. No more plots.” No more not taking your voice into account. “Please.”

• Grimacing, Starscream’s aware of Megatron sprawled on his back, head turned to watch them. Watching him. And you’re asking him to stop trying to seize control, to ignore all the wrongs, the mistakes. The pain. Hand cupping your cheek, he ignores Megatron and Soundwave. Aware suddenly that you’ve given him the ultimate immunity against Megatron by fully bonding the warlord. You’d protected him for life from Megatron’s rage. “I only look to the future.” Sees you frown and nudges you with his head. “Our future. Together.” Knows he’s neglected you, focused on protecting you without stopping to even ask if you wanted to be protected, but he couldn’t risk losing you. Still can’t.

• Still upset, but your mind is calming as his servos curl around your upper arm, finding skin to strengthen the connection. Megatron had told him to bond to you again, but he can’t. Not when you’re still off kilter and unsure of everything. Hurting. Doesn’t want to take this time, wants you to reach out to him. “I don’t know if I can trust you. Any of you,” you mumble and his spark constricts. Because he’s had as much a part to play in this as the other two. He’d tried to manipulate you and Megatron, had done it to protect you, but had never thought about what you’d actually wanted. Though, apparently you had wanted Megatron. More than him. He’s trying so hard to not think about the fact that you held back with him, but submitted completely to Megatron. Wanting to believe that it hadn’t been you, that you’d unconsciously been offered a chance to survive and has seized it without being aware what you were doing. But it still hurts.

• “Trust is earned,” Megatron growls, servos pressing against his own chassis over his spark. Can barely sense that weak spark nestled inside him, that impossible life a way forward. How long has it been since there’s been a new generation? Well before the war began. Wants to hang on to that anger at what you’d done to him, about the inevitable complications and questions it’s going to cause, because at some point the spark will need to be transferred to a protoform. And that’s going to be noticed. And a sparkling will be even more helpless than you are. Staring at you rubbing your eyes, his spark constricts. Because you’re a problem. Vulnerable, helpless, and his life is dependent on yours. On no one figuring out that he’s fully bonded to you and deciding to take him out by killing one ridiculously fragile human. “I don’t see that we have much choice but to work together. Because anyone gunning for me will target our helpless little mate.”

• Mate not pet. You feel Starscream stiffen against you and you don’t know if it’s that he doesn’t want to get along with Megatron or even try or if he’s just now realizing that you’re going to be a target. It’s definitely not something you’d considered. But it really shouldn’t surprise you, because of course things can get worse.

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