#THEY GET CLOSER AND CLOSER BUT NEVER MEET

[khioneee]

zayne hates the way you look in a hospital bed.

the sheets are too white, the room too sterile, and the iv in your arm makes his stomach twist in ways he won’t admit. you look smaller like this.

too still, too quiet. it doesn’t suit you.

‘you should get some rest,’ he says, his voice even, professional. detached, like a doctor should be. but you know better. you always have.

‘you’re here again,’ you murmur, tilting your head just enough to meet his eyes.

he doesn’t answer. instead, he adjusts the blanket over your shoulders, making sure it covers you properly. it’s a useless gesture because the room is warm, and you’re not shivering.

but he does it anyway.

a ghost of a smile tugs at your lips. ‘you should be more careful, doctor,’ you tease, voice quiet but laced with something familiar, something warm. ‘the others might think i’m your favorite patient.’

he should roll his eyes. scoff. say something sarcastic like he always does. but this time, he doesn’t. instead, he just shakes his head, something unreadable passing through his gaze before he looks away.

for a second, you swear he almost says something. but then he pulls back, his hand leaving your blanket, his presence retreating ever so slightly.

you let it go.

it’s late when he comes back. the overhead lights are dimmed, the quiet hum of machines the only thing filling the room. you’re half-asleep when you hear the soft click of the door, but even in the haze of exhaustion, you know it’s him. you always do.

‘you should go home, zayne,’ you mumble, voice thick with sleep. ‘get some rest.’

‘i was.’ his voice is quiet, careful. ‘didn’t feel right.’

‘you care for me too much.’

‘nonsense,’ he said instead. ‘there’s only way too much or none at all.’

you force your eyes open, blinking up at him. he’s standing at the foot of your bed, hands in his pockets, his coat slightly wrinkled like he’s been running on autopilot all day.

‘zayne—’

‘you said something earlier,’ he interrupts, and there’s something in his tone—hesitation, maybe. or something heavier. ‘about being my favorite patient.’

you let out a tired huff of laughter. ‘what, did it offend you? i can take it back.’

he exhales sharply through his nose, not quite a laugh, but not quite nothing. then, after a beat, he moves closer, just enough for his voice to drop into something barely above a whisper.

‘you’re my most important patient.’

the words settle between you, sinking into the space where exhaustion lingers, where unspoken things have always gone unsaid.

you study him, taking in the way his jaw tightens, the way his fingers flex at his sides like he’s resisting the urge to reach for you.

‘yeah?’ you murmur, softer this time.

his gaze flickers to yours, steady and certain. ‘yeah.’

you don’t say anything after that. but you don’t need to.

instead, your eyes drift to the chair beside your bed. ‘you’re staying, aren’t you?’

he doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. with a quiet sigh, he lowers himself into the chair, shifting slightly to get comfortable. not that he ever will. the chair is stiff, unforgiving, and he’s been running on too little sleep for too many days.

but he doesn’t complain. he never does.

you watch him for a moment longer, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes linger on you even as he leans back.

‘go to sleep,’ he murmurs, closing his eyes. ‘doctor’s orders.’

you want to argue, to tell him he should be the one sleeping somewhere comfortable, but the weight of exhaustion is already pulling you under. the last thing you see before you drift off is zayne, slouched in that uncomfortable chair, his breathing steady, his presence unwavering.

and for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel alone.

because you never knew it. never realized it.

but zayne became a doctor for you.

when you were little and scraped your knee, he was the one who pressed plasters to your skin, his hands careful, his touch gentle. when you sniffled from the sting, he’d ruffle your hair and say, ‘there. all better.’

when you climbed trees too high and got stuck, it was zayne who came running, scolding you under his breath as he helped you back down. and when you fell, because you always fell, he was the one who knelt beside you, wiping the dirt from your palms before you even had the chance to cry.

when you got sick, he was the one who snuck into your house with soup he swore wasn’t that bad, sitting by your bed even when you told him to go home. he would press the back of his hand against your forehead like he had seen adults do, frowning like he could will the fever away just by staying close.

when you started training to be a hunter, he was the one who patched you up after every battle, every wound, every brush with death.

he never once told you to quit, but every time he stitched a cut or wrapped a bandage around your wrist, his hands would linger, as if memorizing every scar.

and now, when the world threatens to break you, he’s still here.

still taking care of you. still choosing to stay.

you wake up hours later, the room still cloaked in soft, early-morning silence. the first thing you notice is the warmth around your wrist.

zayne.

he’s asleep in the chair, his head tilted slightly, dark circles visible beneath his eyes. his hand is wrapped around your wrist, fingers loose but still holding on, like he fell asleep taking your pulse.

like he needed proof that you were still here.

still breathing.

you shift slightly, just enough to tighten your fingers around his. he stirs for only a second but doesn’t let go.

and neither do you.

[meinii]

“I need a kiss”

summary: how I think the lads boys would act when they’re needy for a kiss! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ³ ᵔ ꒱ྀིა

content: fluff

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

Sylus

Sylus isn’t the type to ask for affection outright—no, he demands it. when he’s feeling needy for a kiss, he doesn’t bother with words. instead, he corners you, trapping you against whatever surface is closest, his crimson eyes dark with intent. he tilts your chin up with two fingers, his lips already curling into that smug, knowing smirk

“don’t play coy,” he murmurs, voice smooth as silk “you know exactly what I want”

he’ll tease you at first, brushing his lips over yours, letting his breath ghost over your skin, but never fully closing the distance. he loves to watch you squirm, to see you grow desperate before he finally gives in, kissing you slow, deep, and intoxicating. one kiss is never enough for him—he’s greedy, pulling you impossibly closer, as if he could devour you whole. even after you part, he keeps his forehead pressed to yours, thumb tracing over your lips, as if contemplating whether to steal another

“hm… still not enough,” he mutters “but I’ll be merciful. for now.”

he makes sure you’re breathless, dazed, and completely under his spell before he finally lets you go. and if you ever try to deny him, well… you’ll only make him more determined to get what he wants

Zayne

Zayne won’t outright say he wants a kiss, but his actions speak for themselves. he lingers near you more than usual, brushing his fingers against yours, standing just a little too close when you’re doing something mundane, like reading or cooking. if you don’t take the hint, he’ll grow more obvious—sighing dramatically as he sits beside you, arms crossed, a faint pout on his lips

“you’re ignoring me,” he states plainly, adjusting his glasses “very cruel of you.”

and if you still don’t catch on? he gets petty. he’ll tug on your sleeve like a child, or even steal whatever you’re holding just to make you look at him. the moment you finally give in and lean in to kiss him, he meets you halfway, a quiet but satisfied hum escaping him as your lips press together

his kisses are soft and slow, drawn out as if he’s savoring the moment. his hands instinctively cup your cheeks, his thumb tracing absent patterns against your skin. and when you pull away, he keeps you there, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of your lips before murmuring

“there, much better. don’t make me wait next time”

Caleb

Caleb is shameless when he’s needy for a kiss. he has no problem following you around, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, and resting his chin on your shoulder. his voice takes on that playful, teasing tone, but there’s a clear edge of longing beneath it

“honey,” he drawls “I think you forgot something”

if you ask what, he’ll just pout, giving you the most exaggerated, pitiful look he can muster

and if you still don’t get the hint? he’ll lean in, whispering against your ear

“you forgot to kiss me.”

the moment you indulge him, he melts. his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss, making sure you feel every ounce of his affection. he’s warm, steady, and utterly devoted, tilting his head to deepen the connection, as if trying to make the moment last forever

and after? he grins, rubbing his nose against yours before stealing another quick kiss

“mm… think I need a few more just to be sure”

Rafayel

Rafayel is dramatic when he’s needy for a kiss. He sighs loudly, throwing himself onto the nearest couch or bed, acting as if he’s on the verge of death

“I am starving,” he groans, clutching his chest “but not for food. no, I am wasting away, neglected, unloved—”

you don’t even have to say anything. just rolling your eyes is enough to make him crack a grin, but he keeps up the act until you finally lean in and kiss him

the second your lips touch his, he immediately wraps his arms around you, trapping you in place. his kisses are intense, passionate, like he’s trying to pour every bit of his emotions into them. his fingers tangle in your hair, and he refuses to let you pull away too soon

“ahh, finally,” he breathes against your lips, smiling as he kisses you again, this time softer “but I think I need just a few more to fully recover.”

hood luck getting away now

Xavier

Xavier doesn’t always understand social cues, but when he’s needy for a kiss, it’s obvious. he follows you around like a lost puppy, his usual neutral expression softened by the smallest, almost imperceptible pout. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stands close—too close—until you finally turn to look at him

“… I require something,” he finally says, tilting his head

if you ask what, he just stares at you, waiting.

and when you still don’t get it, he reaches up and gently taps his lips with his finger

the moment you lean in and kiss him, his entire expression changes. his hands immediately cup your face, his touch delicate but firm, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. his kisses are slow, reverent—he kisses you like you’re something sacred

even after you part, he stays close, his forehead resting against yours.

“… better,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek. “but I think I need more data. let’s try again”

and with that, he steals another kiss

[blairenqs]

୨୧ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗈𝗍 !

𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖿!spencer 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 1.1𝖪 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗌𝗁𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

LUNCH BREAKS AT THE BAU were a rare occurrence, and peaceful ones were practically nonexistent.

so when spencer quietly asked you to join him in his car for a moment of privacy, you couldn’t possibly say no.

the bullpen was loud, filled with agents and cases to be discussed, and even the break room wasn’t safe from the work chatter.

now you were here, sitting in the passenger seat of spencer’s old, slightly cluttered car. his bag sat in the back, along with a few scattered books and the faint smell of coffee lingered in the air.

he sat beside you, legs awkwardly angled in the tight space, his knee brushing yours every so often as he shifted around nervously.

“this feels risky,” spencer mumbled, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his cardigan. his voice was a whisper as his eyes scanned around the parking lot, looking for any signs of movement though it was highly unlikely anybody from your team would make their way to the parking lot.

“you think everything’s risky, spence.” you teased, leaning a little closer to him. the corners of your mouth quirked up as you added, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying it.” —READ MORE!

his lips parted to respond, but instead of words, a soft laugh escaped his mouth. “i am,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing that same endearing pink. “it’s just.. you know how the others are already suspecting of our relationship— especially morgan! if he even suspects anything, he’ll—”

“—never let it go,” you finished for him, grinning. “i know. but we’re fine, spence. no one’s looking for us.”

he hesitated, his hand moving near yours on the console. you took the initiative, gently wrapping your fingers around his.

his hand was warm, a little clammy from nerves, but it fit perfectly in yours. that small touch seemed to ground him, and his shoulders relaxed slightly as he turned to look at you.

the way he looked at you. soft, hesitant, like he was still in awe that this was real—made your heart warm.

slowly, you leaned closer, your hand brushing against his cheek to bring him forward. he didn’t resist, tilting his head just enough to meet you halfway.

when your lips finally met, it was as sweet and careful as ever, his kiss unhurried and slow, as if he were savoring every second.

his hand rested lightly on your thigh, the touch barely there, yet it sent a sharp shiver down your spine nonetheless—as spencers touch always did.

spencer kissed you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, and in moments like this, it felt like you were—no cases, no crime scenes, just you and him.

the kiss deepened naturally, getting more heated by the second—his lips getting needier and searching against yours.

you could still feel the nervous energy of making out in such an exposed area in the way his fingers tightened slightly around yours, but you also felt the trust in the way he leaned into you, his body relaxing more with each passing second.

until you heard it.

a sharp knock on the driver’s side window.

you and spencer both flinched so hard that you bumped into each other, breaking the kiss with an awkward clash of foreheads.

spencer let out a startled, high pitched “ow!” while you turned toward the window, your heart pounding in your chest.

there he was, grinning like a dog who just found a tiny new toy, stood derek morgan. he leaned down slightly, his hands around his eyes to see better through the glass. “am i interrupting something?” he asked, his voice muffled but unmistakably smug and teasing.

spencer’s face went red, and you and him froze like a deer in headlights. for a few seconds, neither of you moved, the tension thick in the cramped car.

finally, with great reluctance, spencer reached over and pressed the button to roll the window down.

the glass slid down with an agonizing slowness, revealing morgan’s face in full, his grin practically glowing.

“well, well, well,” he said, folding his arms on the window ledge. “what do we have here? dr. reid and…” he turned his gaze to you, raising an eyebrow. “i should’ve known. you’ve been sneaking off an awful lot lately.”

spencer’s mouth opened and closed a few times, no words managing to escape. his cheeks were so red you thought he might combust on the spot. “morgan, i—this isn’t—we weren’t—”

morgan held up a hand, cutting him off. “save it, pretty boy. i don’t need the explanation. i saw what i saw.” he glanced between the two of you, his grin somehow growing wider. “and might i just say—wow. didn’t think you had it in you, kid.”

you couldn’t help it, you burst out laughing. it was nervous laughter—sure, but it broke the tension, and you leaned back in your seat, shaking your head.

“come on morgan, don’t you have something better to do than stalk the parking lot?”

“oh, this is better,” morgan shot back, his tone teasing. he straightened up, giving spencer a pointed look.

“you’re lucky it was me and not hotch who caught you two sneaking around. or worse—garcia. you know how she loves gossip.”

spencer groaned, burying his face in his hands. “please don’t tell garcia,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by his hands.

morgan laughed, resting his hand on the car door. “relax, kid. your secret’s safe with me. for now.” he paused, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “but if you owe me a favor down the line, don’t be surprised if i cash it in, oh—make sure you kids don’t get too lost in the smooching, hotch was looking for you both earlier.”

with that, he turned and walked away, still chuckling to himself as he headed back toward the building.

you turned to spencer, who was still hiding behind his hands. “hey,” you said softly, nudging his knee with yours. “it’s okay. he’s just messing with us.”

spencer peeked at you through his fingers, his face still flushed. “this is exactly why i didn’t want anyone to find out,” he muttered.

you smiled, reaching over to gently pull his hands away from his face. “morgan isn’t going to tell anyone. and even if he does, who cares? they’re our friends. they’ll be happy for us.”

he looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening at your smile. “you’re too calm about this,” he said, his voice tinged with disbelief as he leaned his head into your shoulder.

“that’s because i know something you don’t,” you teased, leaning in closer.

“what’s that?”

“that no one could possibly tease you more than morgan just did,” you said, kissing him lightly on the cheek.

despite his anxiousness of the situation, spencer laughed, his shoulders finally relaxing. and even though the lunch break didn’t go as expected, at least the two of you wouldn’t have to hide away something so beautiful anymore—and that made it all the sweeter.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. FIRST FIC COMPLETED !! please feel free to leave any requests 🫶🫶 i love spencer so much shushdjdj

[star2fishmeg]

ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀᴛ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

[2.2k] Pairing | Dad!Luke Hughes x Mum!Afab!Reader Summary | After multiple back-and-forth conversations, y/n and Luke finally get to start the next chapter in their lives with the beginning of their new family. Warnings | Fluff, little swearing. Authors Note | Could this be…a crossover? 🫢 This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes.

Luke’s cheeks hadn’t faded from their pink even after she’d been gripping his hand through the labour. Actually, he hadn’t moved since he’d thrown himself down into the visitor’s chair next to her hospital bed, eyes still slightly wide and his heartbeat still in his ears. The moment replaying in his head on repeat; the bright lights blinding, y/n’s hand with a vice grip he’d never experienced before, her wails of agony and gasping breath, his voice reassuring and praising her throughout the whole thing yet he remembered the second when her eyes gazed up at his; gentle, tears welling, an unspoken gratitude that he’d chosen to stay with her through it and not passed out. And now it was over, and the room was quiet again, nothing but the whirring of machines bouncing off the walls and heavy breathing once his son had been soothed. His son. His son who was now nestled in y/n’s arms and wrapped in a blanket with little moose dotted on it (a gift from his eldest brother, Quinn).

He exhaled, running his hands over his face before setting his elbows on his knees, admiring the way a smile graced her lips as she basked in their son’s sweet face. She’d caught her breath, hair tangled still but as beautiful as the day Luke had met her. 

“How’re you feeling?” he gently said, keeping his voice quiet as his deep rasp would allow him, his tender eyes peering up at her, glossed over. His leg bounced erratically. It was real. Everything was all so real, and it wasn’t another dream anymore. What was he supposed to do? His mind was racing, raking through a mental file of all the things Quinn and his teammates had told him about, what to do during and after the birth, what to say, what to prepare for and suddenly he’d drawn a complete blank. A ringing in his ears until the sound of her voice took him into her arms and pulled him into the world again.

Their eyes locked, hers hooded and sleepy but seeing them properly, uninterrupted, settled his jitters and calmed the storm in his chest. He wasn’t the one giving birth, and he was a mess, how was she so composed?

“Tired, but happy it’s over. Happy you’re here.” She rasped, leaning back into the pillows. She giggled at him, his hair unruly from running his fingers through it obsessively. “Lu, come closer, he doesn’t bite.”

He perked up, wiping his hands on his jeans before standing and stepping closer, “Nervous, sorry.”

Luke brushed his knuckle against her cheek, the skin still supple and soft as she melted into it. 

“You must think I look awful right now, huh?” She chuckled, looking up at him. In all her honesty, she knew she didn’t look her best with tangled hair, a sheen of sweat over her skin but that didn’t matter in that moment. What mattered was the ever-growing warmth blooming in her heart that seeped through her body and now, she finally had a break. Their son cosied in his blanket, cradled in her arms, which was the reason Luke’s hand trembled as she felt it land on her head.

“Angel, I think you’re always beautiful,” he gazed back down at her, pupils blown with a smile unable to control, his hand softly stroked over her hair before stopping, replacing the gesture by tenderly rubbing his thumb over her forehead, “he’s beautiful.”

“He is. He’s your new little buddy. Look at him, say hi.” She raised her arms, meeting Luke halfway as he - apprehensively, trying to remember how he’d practiced - cradled the baby in his arms, close to his chest with bursts of rapture surging through his body. He let her settle the newborn into his arms and copied the way she held him. His eyes couldn’t stop fixating on his little face, how he was holding his flesh and blood in his arms now, how his child would grow to develop his and y/n’s features. It dawned upon him how far he’d come in life, it only felt like yesterday he was stepping onto NHL ice for the first time and now he was cradling his child to his chest with nothing but adoration and a sparkle in his eye.

“Hey Bud,” he muttered softly, his finger pushing back the blanket a little to see Bud’s face better, his tiny, flushed face finally asleep. “Welcome to the world. M’so proud of you, baby. He’s so small, wow.”

He smiled at her, eyes catching hers and locking intently with a wet glaze over them. She was glowing, well, to him. All those months of waiting, through the worst of pain and cravings, doing his best to prioritise his beloveds and there he was sitting with his new family. A bursting of ecstatic joy in his chest and his heart hammering. Bud was their son.

This crawling anxiety pitted in his stomach. He was a dad. A real dad. 

He leaned down, y/n taking Bud back into her arms and Luke kissed her forehead, no matter how salty the sweat tasted. 

“No, you’re just huge and he’s yours too…” she quipped before falling quiet. Her lips opened and faltered, words formulated slowly until she squeaked them out with brows pulled together, worry written over her face. “Luke, what if I’m a bad mum? Like, what if I fail him?” 

Anxiety dissipated into a sinking in his stomach, every parent’s worst nightmare. That’s the natural thing with parenthood, one that they’d both been unprepared for because it was something you couldn’t prepare for. He’d never been anxious about much in his life, hockey came naturally to him, and confidence in hockey was something he’d built and felt regularly but looking after a child? There’s only so much you can do before the ‘what ifs’ settle in. But if he was swimming in nerves, she was drowning in anxiety.

“Angel, you worry too much. You’re gonna be a great mum, we’ve been preparing for this for ages, we’ll get through it together and hey, if worse comes to worse, I’ll call Quinn for advice. He’s on his second now.” His fingertips held the bottom of her chin, tilting her head up. With eyes fluttering close, he pressed her lips to hers with fervour, their fears and frets seeping to the floor beneath them until they were left in bliss. He pulled away and mumbled into her lips, “We’ll take it one day at a time.”

Every time Luke kissed her it had meaning. One that made the world stop.

“Yeah, one day at a time.” A smile cracked onto her lips, their breaths tangling and her eyes followed him as he pulled the visitor’s chair closer to her bed and sat down. Y/n’s body relaxed into the pillows and took another peek at Bud, “Man, I can’t believe Q’s on his second child. Holidays are gonna be loud. At least the little man here will have a friend, or two. Are you-”

Faint sniffs crept into their space, and she turned towards the noise, Luke’s puppy-like eyes pink as he wiped them with his hoodie sleeve, chuckles mixed with sobs stammering from his chest in bursts, his smirk still lighting up the room.

“-I’m happy, baby. Don’t rinse me for being a proud husband and father.”

Y/n and Luke certainly hadn’t expected their precious, little Bud who was once wrapped in a moose blanket to have grown so much over almost a year. His little body now sat on the rug in a plethora of toys and books, changing between the Zamboni toy and the animal books while the TV played the children’s channel and out of everything Bud had, his tiny fist clutched the arm of his stuffed moose. 

Luke chuckled at him from the sofa above, arm lazed over the top of the cushions with y/n tucked into his side, her hand soothing over his chest with her head resting on his shoulder. The little, quiet moments meant the most, just the three of them where they could soak in their life under the daylight breaking through the windows, remembering the day they met, the day Luke accidentally, informally proposed drunk at a party in college and to their almost one-year-old now. 

“He’s so…quiet. Is that normal?” Luke murmured, watching Bud figure out which wooden block shape fit in which corresponding hole. He always thought toddlers were supposed to be babbly and loud, perhaps even messy (not that he wasn’t) but Bud just seemed…content all the time. And it perplexed and worried him.

“I was a quiet toddler, really easy according to my mum.” She shrugged, fingers reaching the collar of his t-shirt and tugging out the dainty chain, running the pad of her thumb over the charm of her first initial. 

Bud, sporting a Devils t-shirt by default, giggled upon successfully placing all the blocks in their correct places, moving on to the next best thing that piqued his interest: the Vtech Sit To Stand Learning Walker that played all sorts of sounds and music which eventually drove any parent up the wall after their child would repeatedly smack the piano keys on the bottom, the keys which made farm animal noises. 

Luke spoke up over the melodies of pig oinks and cow moos, leaning closer to her ear, “I can’t believe he’s almost a year old too, like, where did that go? Look at him, I can’t wait to get him into skates.”

“You’re telling me, he’s so big now. Please consult with me before you buy him something stupid for his birthday. And just be careful with him on the ice, don’t force him if he doesn’t like it.” Y/n knew he’d get Bud onto the ice at some point, it was Hughes blood to at least try and play hockey. Luke wasn’t one to give up on him either so the lovely home they’d bought and decorated would soon fall to scuffs on the paintwork from little balls and mini sticks and the basement converted to a shooting station, pucks slamming through the wall. It was inevitable. “Remember that Cub’s and Bug’s birthdays are approaching too.”

He threw his head back, he forgot how the addition of children meant more birthdays to remember and meant that perhaps he should put them on the calendar, like y/n had suggested after he almost forgot his friend Ethan’s two years ago.

“Fuck!” he swore under his breath, head jolting forward when she lightly slapped his chest as a warning, “Sorry. Yeah, we’ll go shopping next week, I have a day off on the Friday.”

The arm over the back of the sofa wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her into him and he placed a kiss to her head, “It’s so…weird, but like, a good weird having three of us now. A family of our own and, like, I can join the other guys in seeing you and Bud at the glass. Does he have a jersey yet?”

“Yes, he has a jersey, it says ‘daddy’ on the back, don’t worry, pretty boy.” She sighed. Luke had droned on about the jersey for months, desperate to get Bud in one as soon as possible just to show Curtis, for some stupid thing they had going on, y/n never got what their rivalry was anymore. She watched her son giggle and smiled, his hair blond like Luke’s was when he was a kid yet locked in on the talking animals on the TV like she once was, “He’s adorable, isn’t he.” 

“Of course he is,” Luke leaned off the sofa, groaning as if he was getting too old, as a typical dad would, to reach Bud, picking him up off the floor beneath them and sitting him on his thigh, making sure he was in the middle of them both comfortably without leaving the toy moose behind, “he’s got a bit of me in him, don’t ya, Bud? He’s got your pretty eyes though.” 

“Stop it,” her cheeks flushed warm as he wrapped his arm around her again. All those years and he still managed to make her heart flutter like they’d just met, his crooked yet charming smile contagious. For a moment, she got lost in his eyes, the way they fixated on hers with pupils in little hearts, how they always shifted to her lips only to be interrupted by a tiny, chubby hand grasping her finger and she cocked a brow at Luke, “I think he likes me better.”

Rolling his eyes playfully, he sighed, “Well, all the more reason to have another, gotta have evens.”

“All right let’s focus on this one for now. One day at a time, remember.” Her free hand took him by the shirt, pulling him closer, “But I’m not opposed to it.”

She pressed her lips to his tenderly, intending to be no more than a chaste kiss but Luke’s adrenaline surged and once she’d pulled away, he dove in again. He hummed, tongue sliding along her bottom lip with passion driving him to lick into her mouth when her mouth parted. Lips moved together in a rhythm softly, not hot and heavy, not with lust pooling in their stomachs but with fidelity blooming in their chests until they couldn’t breathe anymore. They pulled away with gentle chuckles, Bud babbling between them in a chorus of jubilation. They say your twenties are for navigating your way through life, making mistakes and finding out what you want, but Luke and y/n were exactly where they wanted to be with exactly what they wanted.

[Masterlist] [Requests CLOSED] nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs @bewaryofpity @stayg-0ld @hodgepodge-musings @capquinn

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[rebelfell]

gym!eddie isn’t doing anybody any favors hiding in the vault. cont’d from here and here. 18+, MDNI 1.4k

eddie munson x plus-size!reader (cw: weight discussion, but we keep it fluffy. angst doesn’t exist in this universe)

This was a great fucking day.

It certainly hadn’t started out that way. Between a slew of emails from clients and Zoom meetings that would not end, Eddie’s work day crawled by at a painfully sluggish pace. 

He had even tried going on a run at lunch just to jolt himself with some endorphins, but he hadn’t managed to close even half of his exercise ring before he needed to stop—winded and panting, leaning on a tree for support as he stood there practically hacking up one of his lungs. 

Seriously, how had he never noticed how piss-poor his stamina was?

But any day that ended like this—with you in his bed, his hands getting to roam freely across the softness of your belly and the graceful dip of your waist and the plentiful curves of your hips and ass—was a great fucking day in Eddie’s book, no matter how badly it started.

“You’re so cute,” he sighed, grinning as he nuzzled his face against yours and his stubble tickled the sensitive skin of your neck and ear. “How in the hell did you get so cute? Seriously?”

In the weeks since you’d started seeing one another, he’d finally gotten to the point he could say these kinds of thoughts out loud instead of screaming them inside his head. And it enthralled him to no end you seemed to delight in hearing them as much as he delighted saying them. 

Like now, for instance, with the way your lips curved upward into a smile as you shrugged back, biting down on your bottom lip as you giggled. God, was he obsessed with that sound.

His head dipped low, capturing your mouth with his to kiss you deeply and passionately. And he knew you could feel exactly how hard he was when your hips rolled briefly against his.

“What do you like?” he asked on an exhale, his hot breath rushing over your neck so your spine shook with shivers. “Tell me, please. I want to be ready. How do you want me to be?”

He swore he could feel how the words affected you, arching your back to push your body closer to his, letting out a soft sigh and a breathless hum of pleasure. But when he pulled back to look at you, to see your face and look in your eyes when you answered, he saw something else flicker across your face. Something torn between excitement and trepidation.

“What?” Eddie chuckled. “What was that look?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

You shook your head and looked away bashfully, hiding your face in his pillow. Though you might as well start thinking of it as your pillow now, as far as he was concerned.

“Come on,” he urged, still dropping light kisses on the apples of your cheeks that warmed as blood rushed beneath them with your embarrassment. “Please tell me?”

Your head shook again. “No, it’s dumb.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

He brought his hand up to cradle your jaw and tipped your face towards his. 

The late afternoon sun coming through his blinds splayed across your lovely face, bringing out the brightness of your eyes. He’d honestly paint his whole apartment that very shade if he could. Every inch of every wall, every door frame and baseboard and piece of trim. Even the ceilings.

He wanted to be drenched in you. 

“I, um…” You laughed nervously, all of a sudden sweetly shy in a way he’d never seen you before. “I like the idea of…getting thrown around. Being, like…man-handled.”

It’s like literal sirens go off in Eddie’s ears. His brain straight up flatlines, he’s so overwhelmed by the barrage of images that flood his mind the second you say that. He feels as though all the tiny Eddies in his head are running around and screaming at one other in a total panic—Holy shit! Holy FUCKING shit! What do we do?! Where’s the manual?! GET THE FUCKING MANUAL!

“Just—” Eddie stammered as he cleared his throat, the word coming out in a too-high crack the likes of which he hadn’t heard since puberty. “Just the idea?”

“Well, yeah, no one’s ever…” You blinked up at him, collecting yourself. “I mean, I’m not exactly dainty, you know? So no one’s ever tried.”

“What if I tried?”

The question popped out before he had taken even a moment to think it over, for him to come up with even marginally better phrasing. Fuck it, he thought. Too late to take it back now, anyway. 

And it wasn’t like he didn’t mean it.

His heart still flutters when he hears you laugh, but it stings a bit with the way you look away. “You can’t lift me, Eddie,” you told him flatly.

His brow scrunched, a little offended.

“How do you know?”

“Because I know what you bench,” you retorted with a sassy bob of your head.

“Okay.” Eddie’s eyes rolled. “And it’s more?”

“Yes. It’s more.”

“By how much?”

Your expression wrinkles and it stings a little more this time when you shrink away. Shit.

He didn’t mean for it to come out like that. He didn’t mean to ask what you weigh so explicitly. Not that he’s avoiding asking, so to speak. He just knows it won’t change anything. It’s not like there’s some number you’re gonna say that is going to make him balk. He knows what you look like and he knows he likes it. He knows he maybe even loves it, but that’s neither here nor there.

He wants to know for…other reasons.

It takes a lot more reassurance and some more gentle coaxing, but he finally gets a number out of you. And yeah, it’s more than what he typically maxes out at, but it’s not that much more. He’ll ask Steve tomorrow about a new regimen, and he’s definitely seen him do some of those very specific hip thrust exercises that Eddie can only imagine are meant for this exact purpose.

He’s got some time. He can get there.

It’s not like he’s gonna be ragdolling you the first time out of the gate. You guys were still new, still feeling one another out, still keeping everything soft and gentle and sweet.

God, he wants to be so sweet to you. 

But he also wants to ruin you, if that's what you like. He’ll twist your body into whatever shape he can imagine—he knows you do yoga, you must have a whole arsenal of poses—and then he’ll fuck you until your brain is leaking out of your ears if that’s what you want. He certainly does.

Speaking of leaking brains, Eddie nuzzled up to you again and the way you relax into his touch is sort of brain-melting in a totally different way. That breathy little laugh of yours is back as he hooks one of your legs over his hip and starts to nip gently at your throat with his teeth.

His hands gripped your waist and he helped you roll your body against his, trying out what it’s like to guide and direct you, seeing the way it makes you slowly but surely relinquish control.

But he doesn’t push any further, despite the adamant protests coming from between his legs.

Neither of you wanted to go too fast. Eddie, because he genuinely didn’t want to miss a second of getting to know you, and he kind of had this tendency of going full throttle and driving himself headlong into a brick wall. And you, because with him living so close by you felt like you were already at risk for being swept up into a total cling-fest of a relationship.

He doesn’t ask you to stay for dinner, because you and he made a deal you wouldn’t have dinner together two nights in a row. And with tomorrow being his cheat day, he wants to take you to his favorite Italian place because A) the food is incredible and B) it’s got all this soft, moody lighting he’s sure as shit is gonna make you look like a fucking oil painting sitting across from him.

Still, the conversation has clearly made you a little squirrely and he lets you steer him away from his offer to walk you home, not wanting to push any further or faster than you’re ready for. 

And it’s not even been a minute since he’s kissed you goodnight before he’s going into his fitness app and updating his weightlifting goals.

there were supposed to be more parts before we got here—but who cares, I do what I want.

Ty for reading 😘 love you, mean it!

[vunblr]

Foundations (#2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future.

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 7.7.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok.

Previous Chapter

From Monday to Wednesday, Bucky didn’t take Thomas to kindergarten. He had been away on a mission with Clint, retrieving classified data from a transnational drug dealer organization in Canada before it could disappear for good. It had been a tense operation that required more patience than Bucky liked to admit, but they got the job done.

By Thursday, despite the pounding migraine drilling into his skull, he took Thomas to school. He was exhausted, but after three days away, he wasn’t about to keep the kid out of his routine any longer, and he didn’t want to burden Sam and Steve any longer.

As they approached the entrance, his gaze landed on her. She was holding several small gift bags, and just as he got closer, he saw another parent handing her a neatly wrapped package.

“…Really, thank you so much for taking such good care of Flore. We’re going to miss you,” the man said warmly.

Bucky blinked.

Oh.

Goodbye gifts.

It made sense. That was the polite thing to do, a simple gesture of appreciation. Good manners, acknowledgment of familiarity.

And yet, he had neither thought of it nor had the time to get her anything.

When he finally reached the door with Thomas, she greeted him with the same smile as always, showing no sign of expecting anything from him.

“Well aren’t you popular” he tried to joke.

“Being popular doesn’t pay the rent, but is nice.” She high-fived Thomas, ruffling his hair slightly before he ran off to join the other kids. Bucky watched him go, blinking a couple of times as he watched the child merge with the others.

When he turned back to her, she was shifting her weight slightly, grazing the strap of her bag with her fingers as if debating something.

Then, with a quick breath, she asked, “Are you alright?”

His brow furrowed slightly.

“Mr. Rog- Steve mentioned you were working when he dropped Thomas off these past few days, and-” she hesitated, scanning his face. “No offense, but you look a little… drained.”

His lips parted slightly, and something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. For a moment, he just looked at her, and she felt the creeping sense that maybe she’d overstepped.

“I’m sorry if-”

“Um, no.” He ran a gloved hand over his jaw, exhaling slowly. “It’s alright. I just have a migraine and I just…” He trailed off, as if even speaking was an effort.

Her expression softened, and before she could think twice, she was already rummaging through her jacket pockets. “Oh, that’s the worst. Here-“

She pulled out a pair of sunglasses and held them out to him.

Bucky squinted slightly at her, blinking like he wasn’t sure if she was serious.

“Do you have photophobia right now?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

His mouth opened, then closed. “…What?”

“The light,” she clarified, nudging the glasses toward him. “Is it making it worse?”

A beat. Then, reluctantly, “Yeah.”

She stepped just a little closer, enough that he caught the faintest trace of something floral on her scarf. “Take them,” she said. “I won’t be using them until later, and you can give them back when you pick up Thomas.”

Bucky glanced down at the sunglasses hesitatingly.

“They’re unisex,” she added, a small teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You won’t look weird.”

His fingers brushed against hers as he finally took them, and neither of them moved away for a second too long.

“…Thanks,” he murmured, slipping them on.

----

Bucky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the pills to kick in. A blister and a half. He needed his damn metabolism to cooperate for once. Just this once.

He shifted to his side, his landing his gaze on the sunglasses resting on the nightstand.

You look a little drained, she had said.

And he was.

Years ago, he wouldn’t have fought it. He would’ve just rotted in his apartment, letting time blur, barely moving, barely breathing until the serum forced his body to reset. He wouldn’t have eaten, wouldn’t have showered, wouldn’t have cared. Just waited it out in silence, in the dark, until the worst of it passed.

But that wasn’t an option anymore.

Not with Thomas in the house.

He didn’t want the kid worrying about things he shouldn’t have to. He’d already seen how distressed Thomas got when Bucky was too hurt, how his small hands would clutch at his sleeves, how his big blue eyes would fill with silent fear when he witnessed one of Bucky’s episodes.

So, he sucked it up.

He couldn’t rely on Steve or Sam every time. If he was here, he was the only one responsible for Thomas’s care. That was the job. That was what mattered.

Which meant that in the few hours Thomas was at kindergarten, Bucky would do the only thing he could, lie here, breathe through the pain, and hope that by the time pickup rolled around, he’d be functional.

----

By the time pickup rolled around, Bucky had already forced himself out of the apartment. The migraine had dulled into something manageable, not gone, but tolerable. He could function. That was enough.

Still, instead of walking straight up to the gate, he lingered nearby, half-hidden as he watched the other parents pick up their kids, exchanging smiles and small talk. He let the minutes slip by, waiting until only a handful of them remained before finally making his way forward.

He lifted a hand in a small wave, keeping his distance. Thomas spotted him instantly, and his little face lighted up as he ran toward him.

She, however, hesitated. Her brows pulled together slightly as she noticed Bucky wasn’t approaching fully, like he was deliberately keeping himself at the edge of things. But, instead thinking too much into it, she turned back to say goodbye to the remaining children.

Eventually, she moved toward the entrance, ready to grab her things and head out, until Thomas’s voice rang out behind her.

She barely had time to turn before the kid came bounding up to her, gripping a slightly wild but lovely bouquet of daisies.

“These are for you!” he announced, a little breathless from the run.

Blinking in surprise, she knelt down. “For me?”

Thomas nodded eagerly, holding the flowers out with both hands. “We’ll miss you!” Then, with great importance, he added, “Daddy says that if you put an aspirnin-  aspren- aspirine in the water, they’ll stay fresher for longer.”

She let out a soft, surprised laugh before her gaze caught on something tucked between the stems. A small card, slightly crumpled from Thomas’s grip.

Thank you for everything. Barnes Family

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, pulling Thomas into a warm hug. The boy giggled, squeezing her back before darting off toward his dad.

She swallowed, glancing past Thomas toward the gate.

Bucky was still standing back, his gaze unreadable behind the sunglasses she had lent him that morning. When he noticed her looking, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

She smiled, tightening her fingers gently around the bouquet. Then she watched them go, and turned to walk inside, with slower steps.

The flowers had moved her more than they should have.

Almost every parent had given her a small farewell gift: a box of chocolates, a scented candle, a handwritten note. All sweet gestures, all appreciated. But somehow, this felt different. More personal. More thoughtful.

Maybe it was because Thomas had delivered them with such excitement, his little hands gripping the stems like they were something important. Maybe it was that it’s been ages since someone gave her flowers.

Or maybe… it was because he was the one who bought them. And, she liked the idea more than she was willing to admit.

----

Friday morning, it was Steve who arrived at the kindergarten gate with Thomas.

The boy clung to his uncle’s hand, his usual energy was dimmed, and when he saw her, he only offered a small wave instead of his usual eager greeting.

She crouched slightly, offering him a gentle smile. “Good morning, Thomas.”

He mumbled a quiet “Morning” back, shifting on his feet.

Steve exhaled, giving her an apologetic look as he handed over the sunglasses she had lent Bucky the day before. “He wanted to stay home with his dad,” he explained. “Bucky’s… indisposed. If he seems a little off today, that’s probably why.”

She took the sunglasses, brushing her fingers briefly against the frame before slipping them into her pocket. “Oh, is he sick?”

Steve hesitated, a fraction of a second too long. Then, with an tight smile, he nodded. “Still dealing with that migraine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. But it wasn’t the full truth, either.

The truth was more complicated.

Since coming back from the mission with Clint, Bucky had suffered a couple of seizures, probably triggered by stress and fatigue. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Just another mark Hydra had left on his body, a collateral damage from years of forced resets in the chair.

The migraines, the memory lapses, the muscle spasms, Bucky had learned to live with those. But the seizures were the worst. They left him wrecked afterward, his body aching like he’d been through a fight he didn’t remember.

So no, he wasn’t just indisposed.

But Steve wasn’t going to tell her that.

Not when Bucky would rather chew glass than let people see him vulnerable.

----

Thomas was quieter than usual that day. He followed the routine, sat in his usual spot during storytime, and played alongside his classmates, but there was a certain way in his movements, like his mind was elsewhere.

During free play, as she helped a group of kids build a tower with wooden blocks, Thomas suddenly looked up at her, furrowing his little brows in thought.

“Um Miss…?”

She smiled. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do adults get more hurt than kids when they fall?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because they’re sooo tall?”

She chuckled at the logic. “It’s about the same for everyone,” she explained gently. “Sometimes kids bounce back quickly, and sometimes adults do, too. It just depends on how they fall.”

Thomas pursed his lips, considering that. Then, after a pause, he murmured, “Oh. That’s good. I was afraid Daddy was hurt.”

Something in her chest tightened.

She kept her voice even. “Why’s that, honey?”

Thomas didn’t seem to think much of the question, busy stacking blocks on top of each other. “’Cause sometimes Daddy falls a lot.” The words were so casual, so absentminded, that it took her a second to process them.

Her grip on the wooden block in her hand tightened slightly. “He does?”

Thomas nodded, completely unaware of the weight his words carried. “Not all the time,” he added quickly, as if to reassure her. “Just sometimes. And then he gets really tired after.”

She swallowed, keeping her expression neutral. “I see.”

Thomas hummed in response, satisfied with her answer, and went back to his building, already distracted by something else.

But she wasn’t.

She watched him for a moment longer, as her mind quietly turned over what he’d just said. Something about Thomas’s words unsettled her, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t really her business.

It would be weird to ask Steve, and even if she did, what could she say? Hey, Thomas mentioned his dad falls a lot, should I be worried? No. That wasn’t her place.

So she let it be.

But the thought kept occupying her mind. Especially because today was her last full class with the kids. The festival was over the weekend, and then that was it. Monday would come, and Jane would take over.

Maybe that was why, glancing around to make sure the other kids weren’t watching, she pulled two lollipops from her pocket. With a little wink, she placed them in his small hands. “Make sure your dady gets one, okay? And… I hope he feels better soon,” she said gently.

Thomas nodded, tucking the candies into his pocket. “Thank you, me too.”

----

Steve arrived to pick up Thomas just in time, jogging to the gate to greet the boy and ruffle his hair. Then he turned toward her. “How’d he do today?”

She smiled, though there was something… sad in it. “Pretty good, considering he was feeling a little down. I uh- hope James is recovering well.” she stuttered a little. Then, with a small smile, she added, “It’d be wonderful to have you both at the festival. Steve smiled. “But in case you can’t make it, and we don’t see each other again…” she fidgeted lightly with the strap of her bag before she continued, “I just wanted to thank you for helping us with the booths.”

Steve quirked a brow, puzzled.

That’s when she realized, he didn’t know.

Of course, why would he? It’s not like Thomas’s father would go out of his way to mention her to his friend.

“Oh, um… I’m just the substitute teacher,” she explained, suddenly feeling awkward. “The titular returns on Monday.”

Steve’s jaw ticked slightly. “Oh. Bucky didn’t- that’s a shame. After all these months, the kids must be super attached.”

She exhaled a little, nodding. “Yeah, it’s tough to leave them.”

He tilted his head. “Do you… have another school lined up?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m still looking for openings. In the meantime, I mostly fill the idle time nannying.”

Steve’s brows lifted slightly like he was filing that information away. “Makes sense.” Then, with an easy smile, he clapped Thomas on the back and said, “Well, ma’am, I’ll definitely be coming tomorrow for those pies, Bucky or no Bucky. And who knows? Maybe I’ll bring some people along.”

There was something in his tone that made her blink, like he was already planning something she wasn’t in on.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Should I be worried?”

Steve just grinned. “Nah. Just keep an eye out.”

-----

Bucky shifted on the couch when Steve and Thomas entered the apartment,  resting his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward. He offered the kid a tired smile. “Hey, bud. Go wash your hands and I’ll make you some cocoa.”

Thomas nodded obediently, padding toward the bathroom.

The second he was out of earshot, Steve dropped onto the couch next to Bucky. “So… Tommy’s teacher told me she’s leaving.” He stated casually.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and then grunted. A non-answer.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You going to the event this weekend?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “I should take Thomas, yeah.”

The blonde continued to watch him with intent, almost without blinking.

Bucky looked up, tensing his shoulders. “What?”

“Are we going to pretend it’s not the last chance to see her?”

Bucky’s expression hardened and his posture turned rigid as he looked at his friend. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Steve didn’t even blink. “You know it's not my forte.”

Bucky exhaled sharply. “Look, I appreciate this… need you have to push me forward, but I don’t need it, Stevie. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” there was an edge in his voice, a weight that made Steve’s shoulders drop just slightly.

“I know you do,” he said, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s face. “But maybe that’s why-”

“Don’t.” Bucky’s voice was firm and final. “Just… don’t.”

Steve sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch. “Man, you are stubborn.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, and his voice snapped low and controlled, careful not to carry to the bathroom where Thomas was washing his hands. “You’re overthinking something that isn’t even a thing.”

Steve’s calm expression didn’t change, which only made Bucky’s jaw clench tighter. “You know damn well my few attempts at dating were a disaster,” he continued, sharply. “And I only did it because you kept pestering me about it.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky didn’t let him get a word in.

“You don’t get it.” His voice dipped lower, rougher.

His shoulders hunched just slightly, his gaze dropping. “No sane person would look at me and think… and she’s not into me. I’d know.”

Steve’s face softened, as he took in the slumped set of Bucky’s shoulders, the way his hand stayed fisted at his side like he was holding himself together by only force of will.

“Bucky…”

But he just shook his head, standing up abruptly. “Just drop it, Steve.”

And with that, he walked off stiffly as he moved toward the hallway.

-----

Saturday arrived, and the festival was bursting with people.

The courtyard buzzed with laughter, music, and the scent of baked goods wafting through the air. Families crowded the booths, with hands full of cupcakes, crafts, and raffle tickets. The children dashed between the stalls, their little faces painted with colorful designs, excited.

And, of course, a noticeable crowd gathered around three particular men.

Steve had shown up with Sam and Clint in tow, and Sam -being Sam- had tweeted about it. That was all it took to draw in curious onlookers and eager fans who wanted to catch a glimpse of the Avengers in civilian mode. Some were bold enough to ask for selfies, which Sam graciously agreed to with his signature charm. Steve kept it low-key, smiling politely while Clint grumbled but still posed when cornered by particularly persistent fans.

The buzz from their appearance did wonders for sales. The bake sale sold out twice, and the raffle tickets were gone in record time.

She watched it all from the distance, with a pleased smile on her face. It was turning out even better than she’d hoped.

Then, she caught sight of Steve talking with the director, shaking her hand as he discreetly handed her an envelope. Even from afar, she saw the way the woman’s eyes widened before her hand flew to her mouth, clearly struggling to keep her composure. It didn’t take a genius to guess whose name was on that check. Things were going well, better than well, and that was good. The festival was a success, the kids were having a blast, and the school would benefit enormously from the donations.

She was happy. Truly.

But… she also couldn’t ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt as the day passed by. She’d hoped to see him there. Maybe standing in a corner, lurking on the periphery with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, and shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to take up less space.

But as the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t going to happen.

She wouldn’t see him again.

Oh well. It was just an innocent crush, after all.

Nothing serious. Nothing life-altering. Just a harmless infatuation from observing and interacting with him on a daily basis, the same way she did with any other parent.

With the little difference that she didn’t go to work every morning wondering if any other parent would be wearing that blue henley that suited him so well. Or if his hair would be left loose, or pulled back in that short, neat ponytail that made his sharp features even more striking.

Or if maybe she might find an excuse to have some trivial physical contact. A casual brush of fingers when giving him a paper, a brief touch on her arm to get her attention.

Stupid, she chided herself, shaking her head as she moved to straighten the crafts table. It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be like that.

----

Eventually, she found herself chatting with Steve and company before they took their leave.

They were… surprisingly normal.

Mr. Wilson -Sam- had a warm, easygoing demeanor. He complimented the cinnamon rolls with genuine enthusiasm and asked questions about the neighborhood, curious about the local community.

Clint, on the other hand, was… well. He made a big show of browsing the crafts table, holding up a knitted cat plushie with a serious expression. “So, if I get this for my dog… how long before he tears its head off?”

She stifled a laugh. “Depends on the dog, I suppose.”

He nodded solemnly, turning the plushie this way and that. “Yeah… Lucky’s got a soft spot for cat toys. Rips ‘em to shreds out of love, y’know?”

Steve rolled his eyes, muttering, “Pretty sure he eats them out of spite.”

Clint gasped in mock outrage. “How dare you accuse him of malice!”

They were good people. Easy people. And for a second, she understood how Thomas could be so fond of his father’s companions.

As they said their goodbyes, she almost asked Steve about him. The words were right there, hovering on the tip of her tongue. How’s James? Is he… alright?

But she swallowed them back.

----

After the Avengers trio left, the festival slowly quieted down. Without the crowd magnet that was Sam’s tweet, the streets grew calmer, and the noise of conversation softened as people trickled out. The streetlights flickered on, casting warm glows along the sidewalks.

She was absentmindedly rearranging a set of crocheted coasters on the table when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

Low, a little rough.

“How much for the coasters?”

Her heart gave a startled jolt as she turned around.

There he was, hands in his jacket pockets, hair pulled back neatly, the streetlight casting a soft glow over his tired features.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I- uh…” She cleared her throat, her smile slipping out before she could stop it. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Where’s Thomas?”

“He’s already playing with that girl… Fiona, or Flora,” Bucky replied, glancing toward the playground. “Apparently, she just got here. Same as us.”

She followed his gaze, watching the children chase each other, laughter echoing through the yard. “They get along well.”

“Yeah.” His eyes softened, lingering on the kids before he looked back at her. “Thank you for the sunglasses, by the way.”

Right. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “I get migraines, too, so I know how it can be sometimes.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Yeah. They helped.”

She rocked back on her heels, brushing the edge of the table behind her with her fingers. “I’m glad.” He nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment. “And-” She couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face, “thank you for the flowers.”

His lips twitched, just enough to soften his expression as he lifted his gaze toward her. “Not too old-fashioned, I hope.”

Her eyes widened. “No, I… loved them,” she declared, almost too earnestly. She felt a little silly, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “The last time I got flowers was… well, a friend brought them when I was in the hospital for appendicitis… like five years ago.” She chuckled lightly, brushing the edge of the table again, a nervous habit she didn’t even realize she had.

There it was. The opening he should have ignored.

But he didn’t.

“And… what presents do your boyfriend give you on special occasions then?”

The question came out more casual than he felt. He kept his posture relaxed, like he didn’t really care about the answer. But his eyes were locked on her, sharp and unwavering.

Her mouth parted, and her eyes widened as heat flooded her cheeks. She looked down, fidgeting with the table’s edge again. “Oh, um… I’m not… I’m not seeing anybody right now.”

Bucky’s jaw shifted, and his teeth clenched before he relaxed them. His body unconsciously leaned just a fraction closer. “Oh.”

She looked up then, and their gazes met. His were piercing, framed by dark circles that spoke of exhaustion, but seemed to intensify the blue.

So, not seeing anybody. His throat bobbed, and his shoulders stiffened. He hadn’t expected to get this far. He exhaled, slowly and measured. “Right.”

Her gaze flickered down, suddenly finding the space between their feet very interesting. A strand of hair slipped from behind her ear, falling across her cheek, and she pushed it back again.

Before either of them could say another word, Thomas came running, voice loud and cheerful as he yelled. “Miss Y/n! Look!”

They both turned, and the spell broke as the child waved a giant cookie with excitement. “Flora’s mom gave me this!”

She forced herself to laugh. “Wow, that’s huge! You better save some for your dad.”

Thomas grinned, already taking a big bite. “No way!”

Bucky huffed, as a reluctant smile pulled at his lips. “Figures.”

The kid then scampered off, cookie half gone before he even made it back to the playground.

The moment gone, Bucky shifted, and his body tensed when he realized how close he was standing. He took a step back, squaring his shoulders. “I, uh… better keep an eye on him.”

She nodded, finally letting go of the table. “Yeah… of course.”

Before he walked away, she hesitated but found her voice. “I’m glad you came.”

His posture stilled and he straightened himself before slowly turning to face her. His gaze softened, his always-present guarded look slipping just for a moment.

“…Yeah. Me too.”

----

After their conversation, Bucky found himself hovering on the edges while keeping an eye on Thomas, his gaze instinctively drifting back to her as she moved between the booths, helping kids pick out treats, chatting easily with parents, her laughter blending into the warm evening air.

He lingered longer than he meant to, always just a few steps away but never quite close enough. Every time he tried to approach her again, something got in the way.

A parent pulled her aside to thank her. A kid called out her name, needing help. Another teacher waved her over, asking her opinion on where to store the leftover banners.

Bucky’s mouth would open, half-formed words on his tongue, but then he’d shut it again, stepping back, tensing his shoulders as the opportunity slipped away. Time slipped by, and the evening grew cooler as the crowd began to thin. Booths were closing up, the parents gathered their kids, and the buzz of excitement slowly winded down.

Eventually, Thomas tugged at his sleeve, his small voice pulling Bucky from his thoughts. “Daddy… I’m bored.”

Bucky blinked, looking down at him.

The kid’s eyes were drooping, since the day’s excitement clearly caught up to him. “Can we go home now?”

Bucky exhaled, resigned. “Yeah, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Thomas nodded, and then looked back toward the crafts booth, scrunching up his face. “Wait… I wanna say goodbye to Miss Y/n.”

His throat felt dry. But he swallowed it down, nodding as he squeezed his son’s fingers back. “Alright.”

He straightened his posture, forcing his shoulders to relax, willing himself to push past the stupid, adolescent feeling twisting in his gut. This wasn’t about him. It was for Thomas. Just for Thomas.

So he took a breath and walked toward her.

She was at the crafts booth, boxing up leftover yarn and packing away the crocheted coasters. When they approached, she looked up, and her eyes widened before a warm smile softened her face. “Hey, Thomas.” Then her gaze flicked to Bucky, lingering for a second too long on him before she looked back at the boy. “And James.”

Bucky’s chest tightened again, but he gave a curt nod, unconsciously squeezing Thomas’s hand just a bit tighter.

Thomas stepped forward, and tilted back his head to look up at her. “You’re really leaving?”

Her smile faltered, and she crouched down, “Yeah, buddy. I am.”

Thomas’s face fell, and his lips curled into a sad frown. “But… who’s gonna read the stories now?”

Her eyes shimmered, but her smile stayed firm. “Miss Jane will. And she’s really good at funny voices, too.”

Thomas’s nose wrinkled. “But I like your voices better.”

A laugh broke through her lips, soft and warm. “You’re gonna be just fine, kiddo. And hey, maybe I’ll come visit sometime, okay?”

Thomas’s eyes brightened. “Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

Thomas beamed, stepping forward and wrapping his little arms around her neck. She stiffened, just for a moment, before hugging him back, closing her eyes as she held him close.

Bucky’s chest ached. He looked away, trying to ignore the sting of it all. This was just for Thomas.

When she finally pulled back, she ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourself, okay? And be good for your dad.”

Thomas nodded, his smile wide and sincere. “I will!”

She stood up, drifting her gaze back to Bucky. “Well, again, I’m glad you two could make it.”

His shoulders tensed, and he flicked his gaze to the side. “Yeah. Figured Thomas would want to… y’know.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together, a shadow crossing her face. “Of course.”

For a second, the words were right there. The things he wanted to say, the things he knew he should say.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just gave a stiff nod. “Take care.”

Her smile faltered, and her hands fidgeted with the edge of the box. “You too, James.”

Thomas tugged at his hand, his little voice breaking through the moment. “Come on, Papa. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Bucky murmured. “Let’s go.”

He turned around, guiding his son away.

He didn’t look back.

Not even when he wanted to.

-----

A couple of weeks passed, and their daily life settled into a certain rhythm. Thomas adjusted well enough to the new teacher. According to him, she was “nice” and “funny,” but then he’d always add, with a little pout, “But Miss Y/n was better.”

Bucky didn’t have much to say to that. He just ruffled his son’s hair and changed the subject, pretending like the kid’s words didn’t affect him.

He felt drained again. It was getting harder to balance parenthood, missions, and the neurological bullshit that seemed determined to make his life a living hell. The migraines were more frequent, and the muscle spasms in his shoulder were more stubborn. And there were days when the exhaustion sank so deep into his bones, that he felt like he was drowning.

His temper was shorter. His mood was broodier, and that was saying a lot.

Not in front of Thomas, of course. He forced himself to keep it together around the kid, to push down the irritability and the tension coiling under his skin. But that meant the rest of his social circle got the brunt of it.

Steve noticed. They all did.

And Steve -being Steve- decided to stage an intervention ambushing in his living room.

“You need to find a nanny,” he said one evening, firmly.

“No,” Bucky snapped, not even looking up from his coffee. “I’m not letting a stranger into my house.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Buck, you can’t keep this up. Eventually, you’re going to have to do something about it.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened, tightening his grip around his mug.

Steve’s voice softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. “We’re all here for you. But we’ve got our own responsibilities, too. Our own missions, our own lives.” He paused. “You’re not a burden. You’re not in this alone, but you’ve got to figure out a way to make things work, not only for Thomas, for you too.”

The words settled like stones in Bucky’s gut.

He knew Steve was right. He knew he was leaning on the team too much, burdening them with his fucked-up life and his chaotic mind. But hearing it out loud stung in a way that made him feel like a failure all over again.

----

That week, he had to travel with Clint to Canada for a mission. He had made arrangements with Steve for Thomas to stay at his place. It felt like another burden to drop on his best friend, but he didn’t feel he had another choice.

Things ended a day earlier than expected, and Bucky didn’t bother going back to his apartment first. He was bone-tired, dirty, and stiff from travel, but he just wanted to see his kid. Make sure he was okay.

He called Steve, but there was no answer. Not unusual, but still irritating.

Grumbling under his breath, he made his way to his place and rang the doorbell twice before he heard footsteps approaching.

The snarky remark he’d been ready to throw died in his throat the second the door swung open.

Because it wasn’t Steve standing there.

It was her.

Wearing a floral apron, hands dusted with flour, and a faint streak of it on her cheek as she blinked up at him in shock. Her mouth opened, then closed, her eyes wide.

Bucky’s brain shut down. His body locked up, as he looked at her, so familiar and yet so impossibly out of place. He barely managed a croaked, “What… what are you doing here?”

She blinked again, then straightened her pose, wiping her hands on the apron. “Oh- um… Hi, James.”

Hearing his name on her lips again made him feel things, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

She cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder. “Steve had to run an errand, and he asked me to watch Thomas for a while.” Her eyes flicked back to his, “I… didn’t know you’d be back today.”

Bucky stood there, frozen in the doorway, his tired mind struggling to catch up. His voice was rough, edged with something he didn’t understand. “Yeah. Came back early.”

She shifted her weight, playing nervously with the edge of her apron. “Right… well, Thomas is inside. We… we were making cookies.” She hesitated, then added, “He said they were your favorite.”

Bucky’s heart did something stupid, something he didn’t like, and he had to clear his throat to shake it off.

“Yeah. He’s… he’s right.”

She smiled then, soft and warm, relaxing her posture. “Well… come in, then.”

He stood there for half a second longer than he should have, as his brain still struggled to process the fact that she was here, in Steve’s house, baking cookies with his kid.

“Where’s Thomas?” His voice came out rougher than intended, low and gravelly as he moved past her, already unfastening the straps on his tactical vest.

She blinked, momentarily stunned before she managed to answer, “In… in the bathroom.”

Bucky grunted, not even looking at her as he pulled a knife from his thigh holster, the blade catching the light before he tucked it into an old cupboard by the hallway. Then came another knife, a handgun, and an extra clip, all disappearing behind the tiny wooden doors.

She knew it was rude to stare. She knew it.

But it was the first time she’d seen him like this.

The tactical suit made his broad shoulders seem impossibly solid, and the black fabric hugged his body, emphasizing the lines of his arms, as the curve of his biceps strained under the worn seams. The vest molded against his chest, doing nothing to hide the muscular expanse beneath it, or concealing just how strong he was.

His thick thighs were framed by those dark cargo pants that clung to him as he moved. Even weighed down by holsters and utility belts, he moved with a lethal grace. And his hair -God, his hair- disheveled and muddy, framing his face and somehow softening the hard cut of his jaw.

There was dirt smudged across his cheekbone, and a faint bruise along his jaw, evidence of whatever fight he’d been in. His lips were pressed in a thin line giving him an edge of danger.

Danger.

That was the word. He looked dangerous. And damn, if that wasn’t… hot.

He ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?” He turned to her, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. “Where’s Steve?”

She straightened, nervously brushing her fingers against the fabric of her apron before she crossed her arms, tightening her posture. “I don’t know, sincerely. He said he had things to do and asked me to babysit for a couple of hours.” Her chin lifted just slightly. “I told him the last time we saw each other that I’d be doing this until I found a spot in another kindergarten.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed.

“He said he asked you for my number,” she added, just a touch defensive.

He shifted his posture, narrowing his eyes. “Did he now?”

She tilted her head, pulling her brows together. “Didn’t he?”

He didn’t answer and flicked his gaze to the side, jaw working as he realized what happened. That punk.

Steve must’ve swiped her number from his phone at some point since he hadn’t deleted the contact yet.

His teeth clenched, and his body went rigid. Of course, he had planned this. He could practically hear that self-satisfied voice in his head, calling him out for being stubborn.

“Um… is everything alright?”

Her voice broke softly through his thoughts. Her arms were still crossed, and there was a crease of concern on her brow, as she pressed her lips together while she watched him.

Bucky exhaled slowly, relaxing his stance just a fraction. “…Yeah. Everything’s fine.” For a second, he didn’t know what to do. How to stand. What to say.

Silence.

Awkward, heavy silence.

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, nervously twisting the apron’s hem. “Well, I’m… I’m going to check on the cookies.”

He gave her a stiff nod.

The moment she rounded the corner and got out of sight, he let out a slow, shuddering breath. His shoulders sagged, and his head dipped forward as he pressed his fingers to his temples.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t fantasized about the possibility of seeing her again. Hell, the way his chest stuttered when she opened the door was proof of that. But the fact that Steve had the nerve to call her without letting him know bothered him.

He knew this wasn’t accidental. Not by a long shot. Steve didn’t do accidental when it came to him. The punk knew very well about the nightmares. About the shitty migraines and the episodes that left Bucky feeling like his body was betraying him. About the way he was falling behind, failing to balance it all.

He had been on his case for weeks about getting a nanny, and now… this? Her of all people?

His fingers curled into fists.

Damn it, Steve knew. He knew, and he’d gone behind his back, meddling in things he had no right to touch. He’d give the punk a piece of his mind for this.

Just as soon as he could breathe normally again.

“Daddy!”

Bucky’s head snapped up just in time to catch Thomas barreling toward him, flinging his little arms around his waist with all the force his tiny body could muster.

The impact made Bucky stumble back half a step before kneeling and wrapping his arms securely around his son.

He let himself sink into the moment, holding Thomas close, shutting his eyes for a second longer than necessary. The kid’s head was buried against his chest, warm and solid, real.

He stayed like that, resting his chin on the child’s messy hair until the boy started chattering excitedly.

“Daddy, we made cookies! Y/n let me mix the dough and everything!” Thomas pulled back just enough to look up at him, with bright eyes. “Uncle Steve was busy, but she came, and it was so much fun!”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to smile, nodding along as Thomas continued to recount his afternoon. His little voice was so cheerful, that Bucky couldn’t help but soften, brushing his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“I’m glad you had fun, buddy.” His voice was calm, even if his thoughts were anything but.

Meanwhile, she was still in the kitchen, apron in hand, tracing absentmindedly the floral pattern with her fingers as she leaned against the counter.

She didn’t know how to face him. Not after that awkward, clipped conversation. Not after the way his body had stiffened, and his eyes had narrowed as he realized she was there.

There was definitely something going on.

When Steve called, his voice had been chirpy and casual. He’d said he remembered her mentioning she was open to babysitting, and he asked if she was available for a few hours.

She’d said yes without a second thought.

They set a day and time, and she showed up expecting to watch Steve’s kid, or maybe a relative’s. She never imagined that Steve lived alone in his apartment and she’d walk in and find Thomas there.

He had been vague -really vague- when she asked who she’d be watching. He hadn’t lied, exactly. But he’d definitely led her to believe it would be his responsibility she was taking on.

When she arrived, Steve explained to her that Bucky was away, and he was in charge of the kid for some days. But then, some important things came up -again, he’d been vague about the details- and he couldn’t leave Thomas with just anyone.

“So I remembered what you told me,” he’d said with a disarming smile. “and asked Bucky for your number. He instantly agreed to it, he was so thrilled when I told him you were the one watching after the little guy.”

It had made sense at the time. He’d seemed so sure, so confident when he’d explained it all. And of course, it felt good to see Thomas again.

But then Bucky showed up at the door, tactical suit half undone, weapons dropping from his holsters, and she realized he didn’t look thrilled.

His expression had been guarded, his body was totally tense and his words clipped and cold. Not exactly the reaction of someone who had agreed to this arrangement. But then again… why would she suspect anything when Captain America himself had stood there, looking her straight in the eye with that earnest, honest gaze of his, and told her everything was fine?

And now here she was, hiding in the kitchen, debating whether she should leave or stay until Steve came back, since, technically, he was her employer for the day.

And, well… she needed the money.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

Perfect. Just perfect.

How the hell did she get herself into this?

She looked toward the hallway, hearing Thomas’s cheerful voice as he babbled to his father. She could just make out the low, rumbling sound of Bucky’s replies, his tone softer and calmer than when he spoke to her.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she started to transfer the cookies from the cooling rack to a tray, arranging them with a precision that bordered on obsessive. Anything to keep her hands busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the man who was currently standing just a few feet away.

Bucky heard her curse under her breath, quiet but unmistakable, and something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

None of this was her fault.

He exhaled through his nose, raking a hand through his grimy hair, wincing as his fingers caught on a tangle. He needed a shower. He needed sleep. He needed to not be in this position, trying to smooth over a situation Steve had thrown them both into.

But here they were.

Steeling himself, he walked toward the kitchen, feeling ridiculously out of place in his tactical gear against the warm, homey scent of cinnamon and sugar.

She was still standing by the counter, transferring the cookies onto a tray, tense. So tense. He hesitated for a second before clearing his throat.

“Hey.”

She startled slightly but didn’t turn around.

He stood in the doorway, blocking some of the fading daylight, with his broad body.

“I, um…” He scratched at the back of his neck, brushing his fingers through tangled hair, already regretting how awkward this was. “Can you pass me a glass?”

Finally, she looked at him and nodded, moving to the cupboard and reaching up on her toes, grabbing one and handing it over without a word. Her fingers brushed his, soft and warm, and his grip tightened on the glass just a little too hard.

He filled it from the tap, taking a slow sip, using the seconds to gather his thoughts.

“I forgot…” He sighed, rolling the glass between his fingers. “Steve asked me for your number when I was out of the country. My mind was… elsewhere.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, and the tension in her expression eased just a bit. Were her eyes a little glassy?

Oh, he was definitely going to strangle Captain Jerk the minute he saw him.

“Yeah… so, sorry if I was rude back there.” He exhaled heavily, setting the glass down on the counter. “I know it’s by no means an excuse, but I’m tired-”

“Don’t worry,” she cut in softly, with a gentle voice as she shook her head. “Really. It’s fine.”

His lips parted slightly, surprised at how easily she let him off the hook.

“I can’t even imagine…” She waved her hand up and down, gesturing at his disheveled state. The dirty tactical suit, the bruises blooming under his jaw, and his wild, tangled hair.

Her gaze lingered a little too long on the way the fabric stretched over his chest. Luckily, he didn’t notice since his gaze drifted toward the tray of cookies.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Want one?”

He looked up, his gaze met hers, and for just a second, she forgot how to breathe. His blue eyes were softer now, warmer.

“…Yeah.” His lips twitched, just slightly. “Yeah, I do.”

Her heart skipped, and her fingers trembled just a little as she tilted the tray toward him.

He hesitated just for a second like deciding which one to choose, then his eyes flicked again to her face. And there, sensing the warmth of his body standing so close to her, and his scent -sweat and leather, dust and something distinctively him- filling the small kitchen, she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was in so much trouble.

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira

[4linos]

across the street pt. 1

bang chan x fem!reader, lee minho x fem!reader

synopsis/request: life is finally falling into place for you and your daughter, but a new neighbor could turn your world upside down, bringing unexpected challenges along the way.

wc: 2178

[across the street pt. 2]

(a/n: skz as a group don’t exist in this universe but 3racha does & some of the members will make special appearances!)

- flashback -

You had tried so hard to make it work. For so long, you were patient. You understood that Chan’s career was demanding. Being in a group like 3racha meant that there would be long hours, late nights, and endless commitments. But when it started affecting everything else the quiet, repeated disappointments that kept stacking up, something shifted.

It wasn’t even about the big moments anymore; it was the small ones that mattered. The times you asked if he could come home for dinner, to share a moment together like you used to. He always said yes, but it was a lie. He rarely came. And when he did, it felt like he wasn’t really there his mind was elsewhere, his body distant, as if even when he was physically in front of you, he was still unreachable.

You understood him more than anyone. You knew that when he was on a tight schedule, he couldn’t help it. You tried to convince yourself that you just needed to be patient, that everything would come back to normal. You reminded yourself that it was only temporary, that things would settle after the next comeback or the next tour. But as time went on, it started to feel like the promises didn’t mean anything.

He’d tell you he’d spend more time with you, he’d tell you he missed you, but he never did. You began to wonder if it was something more than just bad timing. Maybe this was who he had become now someone who cared more about his schedule, about his work, than the person he promised to love.

And then the pregnancy test came back positive. You weren’t expecting it. You hadn’t been trying to get pregnant, but life had a way of throwing things at you, and this...this felt like a sign. You kept the news to yourself for a while, not sure how to handle it.

The excitement you should’ve felt was overshadowed by the dread of knowing you didn’t have the kind of relationship you wanted to have with him anymore. You couldn’t help but wonder if this pregnancy would change things, would make him change. You tried to believe that it could, that maybe it would bring you two closer. Maybe this new chapter would be the one where he realized how much you were slipping away from each other.

But despite the shock of the pregnancy, you held onto that hope. You gave him one last chance, thinking that this might be the catalyst. You texted him, telling him you had a surprise and asking if he could come home early. For once, you wanted him to choose you, to choose the life you two had started together.

And for a moment, his response seemed to make things feel hopeful again. He said he missed you. He promised he’d come home early. The words seemed like everything you'd been waiting to hear. You prepared the dinner, set up the table with candles and soft lighting, trying to recreate the intimacy you missed so much. You bought a small gift, a box with the ultrasound picture, a onesie, and some tiny booties. It wasn’t grand, but it was everything you felt you needed to say. You were ready to share this new chapter with him.

But he didn’t show up. Hours passed. You tried calling, but he didn’t answer. You texted, no reply. At first, you kept telling yourself that maybe something important came up. He was stuck in the studio, maybe there was a meeting he couldn’t get out of. You waited, and waited, and waited. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the growing suspicion that it wasn’t about work.

When he finally came home at 3 a.m., his exhausted face was the last thing you wanted to see. You had stayed up, trying to prepare for a future that felt uncertain, and he came home with no recognition of what you had done. You felt invisible. Not just because of the lack of a proper response, but because even in this moment, when you were offering him something that would change your lives, he was too tired to care. Too tired to even ask about the dinner you’d prepared, too tired to notice the soft glow of the candles that symbolized the hope you’d been clinging to.

“Hey, baby,” he mumbled as he walked past you, barely sparing a glance at the table. His exhaustion was written all over him, and you felt a bitter pang of resentment. You tried to ask him, to make him see you, to make him realize how much this had hurt you. But his apology came without depth. "Sorry, I didn’t think much of it. Just... so tired."

He threw himself onto the bed, not even attempting to check if you were okay, not even considering that you might need him right now. His indifference hit you like a wave, and the weight of everything you’d been carrying started to crumble. It wasn’t just about the dinner or the surprise anymore, it was the realization that no matter how many chances you gave him, it was never going to be enough.

You didn’t even feel angry. Not anymore. You had spent so long being patient, so long hoping for something that never came, that now you just felt empty. You were done. Done with waiting for him to change, done with asking for his attention, done with hoping he’d finally see you as his priority.

“I’m done, Chan,” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with finality. It was the end of a long chapter that you’d been holding onto in the hope of something better, but now you knew. There was nothing left to fight for.

When he didn’t respond, when he didn’t reach for you or even acknowledge what you said, the silence between you became deafening. He was too tired, too caught up in his world to see what was crumbling in front of him, and you realized, in that quiet moment, that you had already been alone for so long. The table with the candles, the onesie and booties, the ultrasound, all of it was just a reflection of what you had been trying to salvage: a dream that was never going to be real.

And as you turned off the lights and curled up in the bed, away from him, you could almost hear the faint echo of your heart breaking.

-

The morning after you told him you were done, you woke up to the heaviness of reality. He had already left for work. The silence between you both felt suffocating, but you didn’t regret your decision. You had made up your mind. You couldn’t keep living in a relationship that had drained you for so long. Your heart ached, but there was a sense of finality. You were no longer willing to wait for someone who couldn’t meet you halfway, someone who had neglected not only your relationship but also the future you had been imagining together.

With shaky hands, you called your family. You didn’t want to do this alone. You needed support. Your mom’s voice on the other end of the line was full of concern, but you didn’t have to explain much. She knew. She’d seen the toll it had taken on you for months. She had been a quiet witness to your pain, the way you kept waiting for Chan to come home, for him to keep his promises, and how he always let you down. She didn’t hesitate. “We’ll come over. We’ll help you, honey.”

It felt like a blur, the way everything shifted in the span of hours. Your mom arrived with your dad, and they both wasted no time, helping you pack up your things. The house you had once shared with Chan now felt foreign to you, as if you were walking through someone else’s life. The space that had once been filled with laughter and hope was now just a shell of memories you couldn’t hold onto anymore.

You moved through the process mechanically, packing your clothes, your personal items, everything that was yours. Your mom’s hands were gentle on your back, a quiet comfort as she moved alongside you. It was hard to see through the blur of tears that welled up in your eyes, but you knew deep down that this was what you needed to do. There was no other choice. You were done.

As the afternoon sun began to set, the last box was packed, and you were ready to leave. You had spent the last few hours in a daze, but now, standing in the living room, you could feel the weight of the decision pressing on your chest. The future was uncertain, and the path ahead felt terrifying, but it was yours. It was your decision, and it was the only one that made sense.

You couldn’t bring yourself to talk to Chan. Not yet. Not after everything that had happened. So instead, you wrote him a letter. It wasn’t a letter that explained everything, nor did it mention the pregnancy. You didn’t owe him that, not anymore. The letter wasn’t about him, it was about you. About your broken heart and how you were finally putting yourself first.

You poured everything into the letter. Your pain, your frustration, your sadness. The tears that had stained the paper were a testament to how much you had tried to hold on, how much you had hoped for something different. You wrote that you were no longer happy, that you were done being pushed aside, that you could no longer live in the shadow of promises that would never be kept.

When you finished, you placed the letter on the kitchen counter. It felt like the final piece to closing that chapter. You didn’t need to confront him. The words you’d written were enough. The letter was the closure, even if Chan never got the chance to read it or understand it.

Your mom held you close as you cried, her voice soft and comforting. “You’re strong, honey. This is the right choice. You’ll be okay.”

And as you left the house, walking out of the door for the last time, you felt a strange mix of fear and relief. You didn’t know what the future would hold, but you knew you couldn’t go back. You couldn’t keep living in a relationship that wasn’t serving you, that wasn’t giving you what you needed.

Once you were settled into a new place with your family’s support, you took the final step. You blocked Chan’s number, along with anyone else who was still tied to him, friends, other members, managers. You had to completely sever the ties in order to heal. You were walking away from the life you had once shared with him.

The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy. The pregnancy was just beginning, and you would have to face it alone, but you weren’t truly alone. You had your family, your friends, and most importantly, you had yourself. And as a single mother, you would find your strength. Even if it was a struggle, even if it meant stepping into the unknown, you knew you could build something better for yourself. You could create a future that was filled with hope, not disappointment.

It was time to move on. And this time, you were doing it for you.

Five years had passed since you walked away from Chan, and those years had been full of growth, healing, and finding new happiness. You had Nari now, a beautiful 4-year-old daughter who brought so much light into your life. And then there was Minho, your boyfriend, your rock. The one who made you feel safe and supported in ways that Chan hadn’t. Life had been peaceful, stable, and full of love.

You'd found comfort in your new normal. Every morning you woke up next to Minho, helped Nari get ready for school, and lived a routine that felt comforting. There were no more unanswered texts, no more broken promises. Just a life you could finally enjoy.

That morning was like any other. The sun streamed in through the kitchen window as you prepared breakfast for Nari. You could hear Minho coming down the stairs, fresh from his early gym session, towel draped over his shoulder. He looked over at the window, his eyes scanning outside.

“Hey,” Minho said, his tone casual. “Looks like we’re getting new neighbors.”

You paused for a moment, looking up. “New neighbors? Did you see who they were?”

Minho shrugged, wiping sweat off his forehead. “No, just a moving truck. Didn’t catch a glimpse of them, but I’m guessing they’re settling in.”

Nari, hearing the mention of "new neighbors," perked up immediately. "New friends? Are they my age?" she asked eagerly, her eyes wide with excitement.

She loved the idea of new kids to play with, and after her busy day at school, she’d probably be ecstatic to meet anyone close to her age. You and Minho both joked about how she’d probably be the first to knock on their door.

“Maybe you’ll have new friends to play with, sweetheart,” you told Nari as you handed her a plate of breakfast.

Minho went to freshen up, while you made sure Nari had her things packed up for school, everything felt normal. There was a sense of peace in the small things your daughter laughing, Minho humming in the background as he brushed his teeth, the comfortable sounds of your family living in harmony.

After you made sure Nari ate her breakfast and finished packing her bag, you and Minho both got ready to take her to school. You put on a jacket and headed out the door, holding Nari's hand while Minho walked alongside you. It was a crisp morning, the sun rising slowly, and you felt at ease, the weight of your past completely gone.

As you drove to Nari’s school, the world outside seemed so familiar, yet a strange sensation stirred in your chest as you passed the house with the moving truck.

A tall figure was standing near the front of the house, talking to the movers and directing them. Your first instinct was to brush it off, as it was a simple sight you’d seen a hundred times. But something about that figure, the way they moved, felt eerily familiar.

You stared for a moment, trying to place it, but the thought was fleeting as you focused on getting Nari to school.

You quickly pushed the thought out of your mind. It couldn’t be. This was a new chapter in your life, a chapter you’d carefully built, and you couldn’t let anything, especially someone from the past, take that away from you.

"Okay, sweetheart, here we are. Have a great day!" You helped Nari out of the car, giving her a quick hug and sending her off with a kiss on her cheek.

Minho stood beside you, watching Nari wave as she ran toward the school entrance. When you both returned to the car and drove back home, a sinking feeling started to grow. Something about the morning seemed off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Minho parked the car in the driveway, but before you even got out, your eyes instinctively went back to the house across the street, the one with the moving truck. And that’s when you saw him.

Chan.

It was unmistakable. The familiar figure was no longer just a shadow in the distance, but a real, tangible presence right there in front of you. He was standing on the porch now, hands on his hips, directing movers as they carried boxes inside. It wasn’t a mistake. It was him. The same man who had once been your world, your heartbreak, your past.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. You had tried to move on, to leave that chapter behind, but here he was, right across the street, as if nothing had happened. As if the past hadn’t torn you apart. You stood still, unable to move, processing the shock that had just hit you like a wall. You had never expected this.

Minho saw your reaction immediately, his eyes following yours to the house across the street. He didn’t need to ask anything. He saw the change in you, the way you froze, the way your breath caught.

“Is that…?” Minho began, but didn’t finish the sentence. His voice was softer now, knowing the weight of the situation, knowing that something was stirring in you.

You nodded, your throat tight. "It’s Chan."

For a moment, you didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Shock? Fear? It was as if your past had just collided violently with your present, and you were trying to make sense of it all. You didn’t want him back in your life. You had built something better, something real, with Minho and Nari. But there he was, standing on the porch, like he had every right to be there, like he hadn’t shattered everything you had worked so hard to put back together.

Minho, sensing your tension, stepped closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. His touch was warm and reassuring, an unspoken promise that he wouldn’t let Chan ruin what you had.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Minho asked softly, his voice steady but filled with concern.

You shook your head, not sure where to even start. "I don’t know what to say," you whispered, still staring across the street at Chan.

Minho kissed the top of your head gently, grounding you. “You don’t have to talk about it right now. I’m here, okay? You’re not alone in this.”

You nodded, your eyes still locked on Chan as he walked into the house across the street, carrying a box. Everything you had worked for, all the peace you’d built for yourself, suddenly felt fragile, as if one glance at that house could unravel it all.

But then, something inside of you shifted. You weren’t the same person you had been back then. You had Nari. You had Minho. You had a life that was strong, filled with love and stability. Chan was a ghost of your past, someone who was no longer part of your present. He might be back in your neighborhood, but you weren’t going to let him back into your life.

“Let’s go inside,” you said, your voice steadier now. “We’ll deal with this later.”

Minho didn’t say anything else. He just nodded, understanding that you needed space to process the situation. You both went inside, and as you closed the door behind you, the weight of what had just happened hung in the air.

You didn’t know what Chan’s return meant or why he had moved across the street. You didn’t know if this would change everything, or if it was just another random coincidence. What you did know was that you had built something real, something lasting, and you weren’t going to let the past come crashing in and take it from you.

You and Minho had a future together, and that future would not be defined by someone who hadn’t cared enough to be there when you needed him the most. No, you were stronger than that. You had built this life from the ground up, and no amount of unexpected moving trucks or familiar faces would change that.

And so, you focused on the love you had now, the love that was real. That was enough.

//

❌ proofread

masterlist.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Love making session with Logan, no roughness or degrading, just love

Enamored

Logan Howlett X F! Reader

You and Logan share yet another loving moment together

A/N: I was picturing DOFP Logan for this, but you could picture any Logan!

Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, lovesick fluff :) unprotected PiV, creampie, Logan is so love w you, and as are you with him <3, some playfulness between you both, a little bit of domestic life

The scent of roses filled the room, from the candle that you lit not long ago. 

The flame flickered, a warm light against the mossy green painted walls of the bedroom. Laundry detergent wafted to your nose as you folded items of both your and Logan's laundry and put them away in their respective drawers. Logan's clothes still had the faint scent of cigars lingering on them, no matter how much you washed them- but honestly, you couldn’t complain, it’s become a familiar comfort for you. 

Logan was lying in bed across the room, watching you as you finished putting the laundry away. He was wearing nothing but Looney Toon boxer briefs, with pictures of Foghorn Leghorn printed over the fabric. You had bought him a pack of the briefs, all with various Looney Toon characters on each pair. He scoffed at it originally- not the type to wear something like this. For you though, he does, and found they’re actually quite comfortable.

You heard the creak of the mattress, and Logan's heavy footsteps across the carpet of your shared bedroom. Logan wrapped his arms around your waist, and you felt his lips brush over your shoulder. 

“How bout I finish folding those in the morning bub?” He mutters softly, as he moves to press a kiss to your hair. His chest hit your back, and you could feel something hard pressed against your hip. You giggled. 

“You sure?” 

A small grunt, as he stepped back, before looping his arm under your legs, and around your shoulders as he picked you up swiftly like a bride. 

“Yeah.” 

He carried you to your bed, you, grinning like a fool as you gently kicked your legs. He gently set you atop the mattress, as he climbed over you, pressing his lips to yours softly. 

“I want to see my girl.” He says into your kiss, his hand pressed to the curve of your waist, slowly sliding down to your hip, over your thigh; his fingers flitting underneath the hem of your (His) shirt, his calloused fingers making contact with the bareness of your thigh, and you felt goosebumps prickle over his touch.

You hummed, bringing your hands up to cup his face, your nails softly scratching at his beard. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a deep, satisfied exhale, before opening them again, peering down at you, tenderness in his usually gruff expression. 

How did you two get here?

It’s a story that will be told over and over. Something you’ll be reflecting on as you walk through life together. People will ask about how you met, the struggles you endured, and more. You yourself will never grow tired of it. You’ll always find a smile on your lips, as you reminisce about your first meeting, your first kiss, your first dumb argument, your first everything. Your favorite memory though, 

The moment you realized you were in love with him.

Something that sends flutters to your heart still. Every moment since then, you look at him, angry, sad, happy, you are reminded about how much you love him. 

It’s bliss

This moment together will just be one of many. 

He leaned back down to capture your lips in another loving kiss. No sense of urgency, as he moved his lips softly over yours. You wrapped your arms around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He parted, brushing his lips along your jawline, down your neck as his hand slowly, softly, traced up to your panties, moving between your thighs as he cupped your mound, his fingers brushing over the spot becoming wetter, and wetter from his gentle touch. 

“God I love you,” He mumbles into the crook of your neck. You smiled, turning your head towards him, to meet his eyes as he lifted his head up. You brought your hand up to cup his face gently, your thumb running over his bottom lip. 

“I love you.” You respond softly. “You’re so beautiful Lo.” 

He smiled, a sweet, almost kid-like, as he leaned back to capture your lips in another kiss. “Look who's talking.” 

He sat up on his knees, urging you up as he lifted your (his) shirt up and off of you, discarding it to the side. He lifted you further up the bed, leaning down to press soft kisses over your breasts, kissing each nipple gently, before kissing the space under your breasts, and trailing down to your stomach. His lips felt like a butterfly, light, fluttering- but still grounding to you as he touched you with gentleness and precision. 

He pressed a kiss to your clothed pussy, before sitting back up, and gently pulling the panties down your thighs. You smiled up at him, bringing your legs up to your belly, to allow him to slip the light cloth off of you. He slipped it off past your ankles, and presented it in the air, hanging off loosely from his index finger. 

He swung it around in the air on his finger, a little shake of his head, as he grinned at you making you laugh and cover your face bashfully, shaking your head at his playfulness. Bringing his other hand up, he hooked his thumb over the hem, aiming the panties like a slingshot, and shooting it across the room to the laundry basket, the cloth missing his target of the laundry basket- and knocking over a beer bottle he hadn’t yet discarded- which then knocks into a vase of flowers, and multiple picture frames.

“Lo!” You laughed,

“I’ll…fix it later.” He grinned, turning his attention back to you, his large hands placed over your knees. You quirked an eyebrow and smiled at him knowingly. “C’mon, sweetheart. Open sesame.” 

You bit your lip, heat burning under your cheeks as you slowly spread your legs for him, exposing the treasure between your thighs. 

His eyes raked over your form, and the usual look of lust you see in him, was filled with adoration. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your knee. You reached your hand out, tugging at his boxers, your hand brushing over the very large tent in them, and he chuckled. 

“Eager baby?” 

You rolled your eyes, but smiled. A cocky grin on his face, he moved to pull his Foghorn Leghorn boxers down over his thighs. His hard cock sprung out. Tip red and swollen, with pre-cum beading in the slit. You brought your finger down to the head of his girthy member, tapping it once gently, and making it bounce in the air- eliciting a laugh from the both of you. 

“Cute baby, you can play with me later.” He hummed in a low voice. He leaned over you, placing himself between your thighs- you had to spread them farther to make room for the size of him. “Right now though, I just want to feel you.” He leaned forward and gave you a loud smooch, before resting his forehead on yours. A subtle thrust of his hip, and you felt his large cock slid through your folds. 

“Lo-” You let out a small size, the feeling of him rubbing your folds, stimulating you. You brought your hands to his biceps, his arms braced on either side of you. “Oh- You feel so good…” 

“I know, baby, I feel the same bout you.” He cooed, moving to press soft kisses over your face. “You’re so damn beautiful. How’d I get so lucky?”

“Cause you’re amazing.” You murmured, as you felt a fresh gush of arousal coat both your pussy and Logan’s cock. You bit your lip, tipping your head back as Logan pressed kisses to your chin and underneath it. “Sweetheart-” You hummed, as he thrusts through your folds again. “I need you-” 

“Yeah, me too-” He murmured into your skin. He adjusted himself, his knees spread and digging into the mattress, he brought his hand to lead to your wet cunt, circling his swollen tip against your hole, slowly pressing inside. He leaned forward, catching your lips in another eager kiss, and holding you there as he entered you slowly, not rushing, savoring every inch of you. You moaned into his mouth, as he bottomed out inside you, his hips flushed against yours. 

He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, and you wrapped your body around his, hooking your ankles around his hips and your hands pressed into his solid back. He kissed you with a bit more urgency now, licking into your lips, as you adjusted to his size inside you. 

You felt nothing but warmth and safety in his arms, and it made you hope that he felt the same in yours. 

Slowly, he pulled his hips back, pulling out halfway, before slowly thrusting back inside. Your pussy squeezed around him, tightening around his cock as if to prevent him from pulling out again. He gently thrusts again, holding you tight against him, as he angled his cock inside you to hit the spot he knew would send you careening.

There was no rush to a finish, no desperation to reach that peak quickly. Just you both savoring each other's bodies, reacting to each other's hearts- permanently twined together in each other's love and devotion that you wrapped the other in. 

Logan let out a groan, your pussy squeezing him tight, and he rested his forehead against yours, his arms unwrapping themselves around you and bracing on either side of your head. His pace began to pick up, becoming more and more desperate for you. 

You spread your legs farther open, arching your back as your hands came down over his ass, pushing him deeper inside you until he was rutting into you, his tip rubbing the spot that made your toes curl over and over. 

Both of you are breathless, sweat beading your intertwined bodies, as he desperately rutted into you. His hand came down to press circles into your clit  - officially pushing you over to the brink of an orgasm.

“Logan!” You gasped his name, your head tipping back and mouth hanging open, as waves and waves of ecstasy ran over you, drawn over by his calloused fingers, gently rubbing your clit in circles as he continued thrusting. 

The feeling of your pussy pulsing and pulling him made him snap, as he planted himself inside, letting go of the control he barely was holding onto, coating your walls with his cum. He moaned your name, before repeating into your lips over and over as his cock throbbed with each rope of cum. 

“ILoveYouILoveYouILoveYouILoveYou”

His words made you tighten and spasm around him again. It wasn’t that he hadn’t set it before, you were blessed to hear them from Logan every day. It’s just he never said it like this before. Over and over, like he was making sure that not only you knew that; but the entire world, the universe, and the heavens, that he loved you. You could barely respond, whimpering a weak I love you back in your coitus haze.

He did a last lazy thrust into you, before collapsing over you- careful not to lay his full body weight on you. His breath was hot against your sweaty neck. Your chest rising and falling against his, as you brought your hands up to curl into his hair, softly scratching at his scalp, relaxing him with every second. His hand came over to rub soothingly over your thigh, as he tilted his head to press a kiss against the space under your ear. 

He began to sit up to get off you, to start the process of cleaning you both up, and snuggle in the post-coitus quiet. You stopped him. 

“No.” You looped your arms around his shoulders. “Let's stay like this longer.” You pecked his kiss-swollen lips. “I love being here, like this, with you.” 

His heart warmed at your confession. “Me too princess.” he hummed, before moving to rest his head next to yours, his nose nuzzling into your cheek, as the adrenaline in both your bodies turned into a quiet hum. Your hearts resting atop each other, beating in sync. 

[sogoodtoheritsvicious]

just let me adore you

summary: you and harry have grown closer over the last two months and he wants to take the next step, but you aren’t sure if you’re ready to give your heart to someone again.

vicious speaks: things are happening 🤭

series masterlist

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liked by harrystyles, carlossainz55 and others

yourusername 🤎

view all comments

fan1 what the fuck. i mean i knew you guys were most likely friends bc of those stories you posted a bit go but what the fuck.

oscarpiastri so you just casually decided to break the internet, huh?

⤷ yourusername 😭 i wouldn’t go that far

yourbff so much fun ♥️ let’s do it again soon!!

⤷ francisca.cgomes i second that 🤍

⤷ alexandrasaintmleux ^^

⤷ yourusername absolutely!

⤷ fan2 wait omg can someone confirm if this means harry was hanging out with the f1 guys??

⤷ francolapinto i can confirm, yes

⤷ fan3 thank you for your service, king

⤷ francolapinto 🫡

ynharrysthird WHAT THE FUCK

mitchrowland it was great to finally meet you!

⤷ yourusername ditto ☺️

⤷ fan4 oh my God

⤷ fan5 they’re meeting each others friends…i need to lie down 😵‍💫

⤷ fan6 “finally” oh harry has definitely been talking about her nonstop fkgjfjd

gemmastyles who’s the weirdo in the 2nd slide?

⤷ fan7 ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

⤷ yourusername i have no idea, he just showed up begging to be let in 🥴

⤷ harrystyles i regret introducing you

⤷ ynharrysthird this is my white whale

fan8 YOU CAN’T JUST POST HARRY AND NOT SAY ANYTHING

lilmhe still thinking about that tiramisu 😍 ♥︎ by author

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liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and others

harrystyles 🤍

view all comments

fan1 YOU SICK FUCKS

fan2 IS MY LIFE A JOKE TO YOU

yourbff lovely meeting you :) ♥︎ by author

fan3 dontsayitdontsayitdontsayit…THIS IS A HARD LAUNCH

ynharrysthird I’M NEVER RECOVERING

⤷ fan4 how are you alive after this

⤷ ynharrysthird i’m not. my ghost is typing.

⤷ fan5 i fear for your life if they ever post a selfie

⤷ ynharrysthird a valid fear

fan6 yn posting harry in black & white and him posting her in color is something that can be so personal

fan7 now kiss

carlossainz55 this is so entertaining

⤷ fan8 carlos pls 😭

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itsaria before and after

view all comments

fan1 this friendship is the best thing to come out of that break up

fan2 imagine if all cheating scandals ended with the girls dumping the cheater and becoming best friends

fan3 still so bizarre 😭

yourusername ♥️

⤷ fan4 this is all clearly a desperate attempt to get lando’s attention

⤷ itsaria our friendship is only about us, actually

⤷ yourusername our lives don’t revolve around a man. shocking, i know.

fan5 fuck the gossip, their friendship is cute!

fan6 aria will we see you at yns ono show?

⤷ itsaria wouldn’t miss it for the world!

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yourusername has added to their stories

replies

fan1 so excited!!!!

lilymhe see you tonight 💕

yourbff you’re gonna kill it 🫶🏼 me and ‘los will be screaming the loudest!!

fan2 can’t wait to freak out later while watching you on a grainy livestream <3

fan3 rip to my sleep schedule

harrystyles cheering you on ❤️ ♥︎ by author

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liked by ynharrysthird and others

hsupdates harry at yns show tonight!

view all comments

fan1 OH MY GOD OKAY IT’S HAPPENING

fan2 of course he’s there, he’s her biggest fan 😭

ynharrysthird i’m not responsible for my actions if we get a selfie or any kind of interaction tn

fan3 ik she’s a professional but i’d be so nervous if knew that thee harry styles was at my show

⤷ fan4 he actually mentioned to a fan that she doesn’t know he’s there cause it’s a surprise 🥹 can’t wait to see her reaction

fan5 GUYS what if she brings him on stage to perform something???

⤷ ynharrysthird don’t do that. don’t give me hope

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harrystyles has added to their stories

replies

fan1 this is my 13th reason

fan2 oh my God i’m gonna pass out

yourusername best surprise ever!! i still can’t believe you actually made it 🥹🫶🏼

⤷ harrystyles i wouldn’t have missed it unless absolutely necessary x

fan3 ME AND WHO

carlossainz55 great seeing you again!

⤷ harrystyles we gotta hang out more, mate

⤷ carlossainz55 we will, i see a lot of double dates in our future

⤷ harrystyles here’s hoping 🤞🏼

ynharrysthird i am not okay

fan4 hey God it’s me again

yourbff you’re setting the bar so high, dude

⤷ harrystyles i’m just treating her the way she deserves

fan5 i swear if y’all still aren’t dating after this…

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taglist: @pansexualdarling @mx13sworld @willowpains @nebarious @daemyratwst @hi26loveie @angelluv16 @ggaslyp1 @kikiki81 @eugene-emt-roe @nichmeddar @callsignwidow @harryssunflower17 @lomlolivia @isinpfortvdmen @yourlocalstilinski-valdez @hshp98 @l0nelyhe4rts-club

[accidentcache]

stereo hearts

feat: 3rd year katsuki bakugou

warnings: language. twinge of angst. 4k read, not beta/proofread. medical talk that was loosely researched.

cache notes: reader has quirk, kind of ooc! if that’s not ur thing then don’t read idk. got a sudden burst of motivation and decided to finish this <3

m.list

your third year at UA was nothing special. nothing compared to the first two years, and since the whole war situation, things are still getting back to normal in the only ways it can.

the case with your hero costume is comfortable. you can carry it with one hand, swing it at your side as you walk. it smacks against your thighs as you make your way down the hall, smiling in greeting to your classmates.

"hey," katsuki's voice is rough as he calls out when you walk past him. he's leaning against the lockers with kirishima, but he steps out a bit to catch your elbow before you make it past him.

katsuki's eyes have softened over time. when you first met him over two years ago, his gaze burned and you compared the color to a layer of hell fairly often due to his brash nature. here lately they're more akin to a soft campfire glow-- still burning, but more gentle and contained.

"where ya goin' with that?" his gaze shifts downward to the case swinging at your side.

"support lab," your eyebrow lifts and your free hand adjusts the strap of your book bag over your shoulder. "the last upgrade didn't work as well as i thought. i wanna see if they've got anything else to try."

a scoff leaves the blonde's lips, his eyes rolling in mock annoyance. he can't bring himself to fully be annoyed, however. not when it's you. "you've been saying that for weeks now," his hand loosens on your elbow but the gentle pressure of his fingertips on your skin keeps you stationary. "how many more 'upgrades' before you realize it's perfect the way it is?"

"the mask messes with my vision," you protest gently, shifting on your feet beside him. kirishima looks amused, but he's more focused on the screen on his phone than to join in the conversation. "and i need better chest protection, the mesh burned too easily from the gas last training session--"

you're interrupted by katsuki sighing loudly. he reaches up and takes your chin between his fingers-- the touch is gentle and it feels like he's treating you like glass. like you would break if he put any pressure on you.

your breathing stutters at the contact, not that katsuki notices. you two are close, you always have been since your first year. affection like this was the norm between the two of you.

"you worry too much," his voice is low, the slightest edge of scolding laced in. "quit stressing over it."

"i'm trying to prevent my quirk from killing me, katsuki."

it's a touchy subject. you can tell from the way kirishima stiffens just off to the side from you and katsuki, how katsuki himself looks away and retracts his hand from your skin. no one likes to talk about it.

"right," katsuki mutters under his breath, his voice strained. "damn lethal quirk of yours."

his eyes don't meet yours for a couple beats of silence. it always ends up like this when your quirk is brought up here lately. katsuki worries about you, just like you worry about him-- neither of you want to admit it out loud. where katsuki had softened over time, you had hardened.

"i have to find better chest protection for the pacemaker for my heart," your eyes roll. your hand swats at his arm in the gentlest way you could manage. "do we want a repeat of the training camp incident?"

katsuki flinches from the swat and stiffens almost immediately. his jaw is tense and something flashes in his eyes the moment the statement leaves your mouth.

in the back of your head, you hate how katsuki pushes you away when the subject is brought up. he holds you at arms length here lately, never pushing any further, never holding you any closer. if anything, your friendship with him had become stagnant in the past year and a half.

katsuki hates talking about his injuries, you hate talking about yours. both of you are stubborn in the same way. one day he's there, physically in front of you and you can feel his touch against sensitive skin-- the next you can barely recognize the person you're sitting next to at lunch.

katsuki doesn't say anything when you dismiss yourself. you ask kirishima to take notes for you as you won't be in class for the first half of the day-- the blonde looks almost emotionless as you make your way down the hall, uniform case swinging at your side.

the last thing katsuki wants to think about is the whole incident at the training camp. the last thing he wants to remember is how he watched you crumple to the ground when your heart failed on you during a simple sparring session with him. carrying your body through the woods, practically screaming for anyone to help him.

he never likes admitting when he's scared. he was terrified when your heart stopped.

he doesn't like pushing you to a distance, but if he sees you around enough his brain starts to mingle the image of your lifeless body with how you look in the present. it's jarring. and his own heart can't handle it. he's stuck in some sick loop of feeling the need to do more for you and wanting you to stay far away from him.

his footsteps feel heavy as they carry his body down the hallway. he's sore, exhausted after training with izuku. his arms are slick with sweat from wearing his winter outfit, working on his more large-scale attacks-- his hair sticks to his forehead, he looks at the ground as he walks. he barely registers your voice as he walks, absentmindedly cataloging it as part of his imagination.

when he finally lifts his head, he recognizes the familiar doors and windows of the school infirmary. even worse, he recognizes your form sitting on the edge of one of the beds, hooked up to a monitor. his heart falls to his stomach at the sight and before he can stop himself, he barges through the doors.

"the hell are you doing in here?" his voice is hard, borderline shaky. even though visibly you look fine, katsuki knows what it means when you're hooked up to a monitor that shows your heart rate. his eyes dart to the side to see the signal and his jaw clenches a little.

"i'm fine," you find yourself mumbling in response. your hand runs through your hair while the other messes with the thin sheets on the hospital bed underneath you. the monitor picks up the moment your eyes meet his and either katsuki ignores it or he's too worried to even mention it. "my pacemaker was acting weird while testing out new support items so i got sent here."

his eyes immediately narrow at your statement. he finds himself walking over to stand next to you, but he doesn't sit on the bed like he usually would. "what do you mean it's 'acting weird'?" his expression is a weird mixture of annoyance and concern. "is it about to give up on you?"

an awkward smile spreads on your lips and you laugh a little. "no!" the back of your hand meets his leg as you swat at him gently, trying to keep the situation light. "sometimes the signals get a little wonky so i have to get it resynced and rewired. nothing to worry about, really."

katsuki scoffs when you hit his thigh, and he snaps. "stop acting so casual about this," his eyes harden as he takes in the sight of you, grabbing your shoulder and squeezing it-- the action is gentle aside from how rough his tone is. "it freaks me the fuck out."

your face falls when he snaps at you and you know this is bothering him more than he wants to admit. you shoot him a look and scoot over on the bed, patting the new free spot beside you. "c'mere," you whisper.

he scoffs again but he isn't one to deny a request from you. the bed bounces a little from the sudden added weight and he scoots closer beside you. the bed is small, your thighs press together as the both of you watch the monitor just off to the side. the readings jump when he settles beside you, but again-- neither of you mention it.

your hands stay in your lap. your eyes flit from the monitor to his profile as a tiny and fond smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "you know i'd tell you if something was wrong with my heart, right?" your voice is quiet against the silence of the room.

katsuki knows that. he can't help but roll his eyes at that statement. the two of you have always been honest with each other. blunt. open. even with as distant as you've become with one another.

he can't help but worry about you. he has never told you about the nightmares he has about that night, nor will he ever tell you about them.

he looks away from the monitor and down at his lap. his brows furrow together and the annoyance melts to just concern. he continues to be quiet, listening to the steady beat of the monitor.

you stay quiet next to him, listening to the same beat. the last time you remember being in the infirmary at the same time as him was when he tweaked something in his arm-- the same one that got injured in the war. he had gone too far during training, you were there because you had overused your quirk and dehydrated to a lethal level.

"does it still bother you?" your teeth gnaw at your thumbnail in the silence that follows your voice. you're talking about the injury in his arm that's still healing, he's thinking about the night he carried your limp body out of the woods.

you barely notice how his shoulders stiffen. it's barely visible, but you know katsuki. he speaks up, but his voice is quiet. quiet and shaky. "…yeah. it does."

"it's not your fault," you reply in a tone that matches his. in a small, mindless action of comfort, you scoot closer towards him. your eyes stay locked on your hands in your lap. "i'm still here because of you, you know."

"stop saying stupid shit like that," a bitter expression crosses over his face. in the back of his head he knows it's not his fault. you've never blamed him for any of it. but you obviously don't think about it as much as he does, even now.

katsuki swallows again. harder this time. his shoulders are still tense, taut with awkward tension as he listens to the monitor. the beat was steady, but faster than it was before he sat down beside you.

your knee bounces as you look between him and the monitor, your tongue pressed between your lips. the silence is suffocating. and silences are never this awkward with katsuki unless it's involving your heart.

you can tell he's uncomfortable. from the bouncing of your leg, how your gaze flits from him to the monitor-- katsuki hates it. he can't help how his fists clench and unclench at his sides. the steady increasing beeping doesn't alleviate any of the growing tension between the two of you. he's worried-- and it's starting to show.

"why is your heart rate faster than usual?" his hand sticks out to point at the rise in the readings, as if you can't look at it yourself.

"i'm sitting next to you," you blurt out without even thinking about it. a laugh quickly follows to blanket the awkwardness and nerves but katsuki catches it. he wants to smile at your comment, he really does. he can see how the corner of your mouth twitches, and it makes his twitch in response.

his cheeks flush a little and he rolls his eyes a little, scoffing. "shut up."

you turn your head away from him and the monitor to hide how your lips actually form the smile. a couple beats pass before you finally face the screen again, fiddling with buttons and humming as you see how much longer you have on the monitoring cycle. you mutter something about ten more minutes, but katsuki barely hears it.

he's focused on your profile. he knows you just as well as you know him. he knows you're avoiding eye contact because you're flustered, deflecting the awkward tension in the room. it's bothering you just as much as it's bothering him.

"hey, [y/n]. look at me."

your head tilts a little and on cue, the monitor spikes when your eyes meet his. you try in vain to hide it, but it makes him smirk anyway.

"your heart betrays you, you know."

"yeah no shit, sherlock," you retort with a glare as you curse at the screen. literally and figuratively, your heart has sold you out. smacking the screen seems like it would do nothing to help the situation.

in a way, katsuki had an inkling that you had somewhat of a crush on him. if he wasn't so stubborn himself, he'd be able to at least admit to himself that he has one on you as well.

but the two of you are similar in more ways than one-- hard-headed and stubborn. only your confession was forced out in a stupidly subtle way.

katsuki grabs your chin and forces your attention back on him. "look at me, idiot. no more avoiding eye contact."

your eyes meet his once again and you curse a thousand times inwardly when the monitor spikes again. you can't even look away from him-- not that you had a choice, with the gentle grip of his fingers on your jaw, but also how his eyes seem to meld you into place.

his eyes have always been such an enigma to you. the color, the emotions swirling inside of them that you've only seen a small percentage of yourself. sometimes they're warm, like the embers of a campfire. sometimes they're harsh like blood seeping through an angry wound.

katsuki's smirk only grows wider when your heart rate steadies at the increased rate when you keep your eyes locked on him. inside, he's mentally freaking out. so it's true, you have a crush on him? it's confirmed now? he can barely contain how his brain reels at the information.

he moves closer, closing the already small distance between the both of you. the bed creaks as he moves, the thin mattress dips under his weight. his fingers stay locked onto your chin, his eyes never leaving yours. "so damn predictable," he practically purrs.

"i hate you," you immediately retort back and both of you know it's a lie. there's no malice or heat in your tone and the heart monitor straight up says it.

he watches as your eyes travel across his face. he's amused, clearly. he moves even closer towards you, his forehead resting against yours. his nose knocks against yours and a smirk curls further across his lips when the monitor spikes again. "no you don't, idiot."

"no, i don't," you breathe out, your eyes fluttering shut at the gentle and intimate contact. you'd be kicking yourself for folding so easily when he's this close to you. you decide to take a step further and cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, keeping him close.

he was already there, might as well lean into it, right?

he leans into the touch like it's instinct. he finds that he likes that your fingertips have a certain softness to them-- gentle, but rough due to the training and combat you've done over the years. his own heart feels like it's going to jump right out of his chest, but he's so damn good at keeping his cool. he has to keep the upper hand, because he'd be damned if you found out just how whipped he was for you.

a couple beats pass, but the two of you never break eye contact. it's strange how cool the two of you are with being so close together-- especially as intimately as this. your thumb swipes along his cheekbone and he swears his breathing stutters.

"you just had to barge in, didn't you?" the scoff that leaves your lips is disguised as a laugh.

katsuki tries to hide his smile when you talk, feigning annoyance. but he can't. he wants to push it further, to hear how your voice changes when you speak to him, how your heart rate spikes when he touches you. he loves the reactions. and apparently, he loves you.

"what, you didn't want me to check up on you?"

"you didn't have to stay," you murmur in response. your head tilts and it fits perfectly against his.

he leans into your touch even more, his hand falls to your thigh and his thumb draws mindless patterns onto the fabric on your pants. the monitor spikes again but he can't find it in himself to tease you about it. it just confirms the mutual attraction between the both of you.

katsuki swallows a little, his eyes not straying from yours. his voice is quiet when he speaks-- a tone he only reserves for you. "shut up," he mumbles. "of course i'm staying."

your teeth catch at your lower lip, failing to hide how your lips spread into a smile. your breathing is shaky, but it matches his. your 'okay' in response is barely above a whisper.

he's still concerned about your heart, of course he is. but right now it is a fading thought as he stares back at you, his chest tight. he's painfully stunned at just how much you make him feel with simple touches all of a sudden, how you make him feel everything with a simple look.

his gaze is soft. tender. you don't think he's looked at you like this before and it makes your throat dry.

eventually your heart rate steadies, once you grow comfortable with his proximity. your eyes shut and you don't even try to hide your smile or the chuckle that leaves your lips.

katsuki can't keep the smile off of his face either. your smile has always been infectious to him, and he finally lets himself be consumed by it, keening more for the warmth that the sight of it brings to his chest.

he wants to kiss you. so bad. he's a wimp, however and loses his chance when recovery girl steps back into the room when the monitoring phase is finished on your sensor. the two of you break apart-- equal amounts of pink coating your cheeks as she fiddles with the monitor and then with the device just under your skin on your chest. there's a knowing smile on her lips but she doesn't comment on anything, instead releasing you with a small instruction to get some rest.

katsuki is silent as you fix your shirt over your chest again, covering the pacemaker and fixing your hair now that you're detached from the machine. he watches you grab your things from the side of the bed, shouldering the strap of your bag and standing before your gaze turns back to him. "comin?"

he doesn't even hesitate.

once the doors to the infirmary shut behind the both of you, his hands shove into his pockets. he follows your lead down the hall, matching your pace like clockwork. the two of you walk a little closer to each other, his shoulder bumps against yours every so often.

the silence is comfortable, but still holds that twinge of awkwardness from before. he can't help but steal glances at you out of the corner of his eye. "you hungry?" he asks, his voice quiet.

your eyes light up at the mention of food. you hum in response, "actually yeah, i am."

he chuckles at the sight of the child-like response. he meets your gaze with a grin when your head tilts and he knocks his shoulder into yours. "i'm hungry too."

the two of you continue to walk, bumping into each other every once in a while-- which causes giggles to erupt from you, and a laugh to spill from katsuki. it's been a while since the two of you have been this playful with each other. carefree in a way. borderline flirty.

he doesn't even point out the stupid smile on your lips because he knows he looks just as stupid and giddy as you do at the moment. "you're such an idiot," he mutters fondly.

"shut up," you retort. the giggles don't fade out, filling the otherwise quiet hallway with warmth.

he wants to take your hand. you're close enough for him to do it, the both of you are practically walking shoulder to shoulder. it would be so easy for him to flex his pinky out and wrap it around yours, but he doesn't.

he rolls his eyes, but it lacks his usual brattiness. "make me," he challenges, digging his elbow into your side in a playful nudge.

you shove him away from you teasingly, laughing before pushing ahead of him in a couple paces. "those are dangerous words, 'suki," the nickname you use just to egg him on slipping off of your tongue easily.

katsuki clicks his tongue. "you little--"

you're unprepared for when he surges forward, hands latching onto your hips from behind. a sharp gasp leaves your lips when he tugs you roughly back into his chest, preventing you from walking any further.

your body stiffens from the contact involuntarily. your chest constricts from the feeling of your heart skyrocketing.

katsuki's grip tightens when he feels you stiffen in his hold. he doesn't know why he just grabbed you like this, but neither of you move away from another. katsuki's heart almost stops in his chest.

keep your shit together, he's thinking to himself. he's repeating be cool like a fucking mantra in his head.

his lips brush almost involuntarily against the shell of your ear, his voice low. "watch yourself, sweetheart."

when your head tilts back to look at him, you look like a deer caught in headlights. your hands clasp over top of his on your hips and his hands are warm. his grip doesn't falter, his eyes can't move away from yours. you look so cute to him at the moment-- startled and flushed. no doubt he probably looks the same to you.

he swallows the lump in his throat, trying to stay calm. the heat of your body pressing-- albeit not a lot--against his is intoxicating. "stop looking at me like that," he whispers, his voice rough but lacking the usual sharpness.

like a moth to a flame, you're leaning in towards his voice subconsciously. "like what?" your voice is barely audible.

he swallows again, his tongue darts out to run along his lips. "like you want to kiss me," he mumbles in response. he finds the way that you're melting against him a little too addicting.

both of you drop your eyes at the same time to each other's lips-- flushing at the same time. you don't realize how close the both of you are to each other until you are too close.

it's feels almost too natural. he's stuck on memorizing new details of your face that he's never noticed before until he's leaning in and brushing his lips against yours. you return the action by closing the remaining distance with a shaky exhale and suddenly the hallway fades around the both of you.

it's just the two of you, acting on instinct. your hand shakes as it lifts to graze his jaw and it sends fireworks along his skin. your head spins like he's stealing the oxygen straight from your lungs. the two of you stay locked to each other for what feels like a lifetime, but in reality is only a couple moments.

you don't know who pulls away first. but you feel the absence of the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours and you sigh, unable to hold back the whine that escapes.

katsuki is fairing no better from behind you. his breathing is ragged, heavy and he has yet to open his eyes. his hands are still tight on your hips and he has to swallow multiple times before he can manage to speak again. "fuck."

the corner of your mouth lifts at the sound of his curse. your lips are just a breath away from his, his nose knocks against yours in almost a silent plea for you to come closer once again. "whipped," you murmur teasingly, your knuckles curling under his jaw.

this time, katsuki curses louder-- but it's more to himself than it is aimed at you. so much for keeping his shit together.

© accidentcache do not repost, translate or alter my work without permission. all rights reserved.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: when your favorite member of their house isn't them.

WARNINGS: kaito's gets a little intense!! but its very canon typical. subaru is a little manipulative ngl.

COMMENTS: i am STILL getting used to writing these guys so i am sorry if they are out of character!! please have mercy!!

Jin’s scowl is more sour than usual. He storms up to his room and slams the door shut, jamming his hand in his pocket in search of his cigarettes. The last thing he needs to see right now is you with Tohma, hanging off his arm and making small talk about how lovely the tea smelt and how good he was at chess. Rage twists and burns in his stomach but you’re the last person he wants to take it out on. Even if Tohma will forever hold your affections, he doesn’t want you to think poorly of him. He thinks it would rip him apart.

Tohma isn’t certain what you see in that first year with the silly blonde hair that follows you around everywhere like a lost puppy. Kaito can’t protect you when worse comes to worst, he can’t stand up for you the way Tohma can. He knows it's underhanded, throwing jabs at his poor underclassman, but he can’t help it. Not when it comes to you. Perhaps, one day, you will see how foolish this is and come running into his arms.

Luca respects the captain a lot, and he knows you do too. It doesn’t give him any bad feelings until you see Jin and call him over, your feet dragging you toward the captain and away from him. Luca thinks you may take one, two, maybe three steps away from him, but you walk until Jin meets you and then you turn back to Luca, beaming at him in a way he’s never seen before. Oh, he realizes, you must like Jin quite a bit to have a smile reserved just for him.

Kaito’s one job is to defend your honor, to keep filthy no good men away from you! After all, he’s the only one you should be considering going out with, and any other man couldn’t treat you like he can! So why...why do you look so happy with Luca? What has he done wrong? Is it his cowardice? His lack of money? Was he not calm enough for you? He sees the way you blush when Luca compliments your hair, brushing his fingers over your cheekbone sinfully. It’s not fair, it's not fair! That should be him touching you like that!

Alan thinks his first years have some real potential. He’s glad you’re taking such good care of them, especially Sho. Actually...you seem quite attached to him. Alan briefly wonders if it’s his food truck, and that’s why you’re always eating food with him, but he realizes that that is very much not the case when he catches the two of you smiling and laughing on Vagastrom’s couch. Sho’s arm is slung over your shoulders and you’re leaning into him, smile never faltering. You’ve never looked at him like that.

Sho doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t know why you’re hanging around Leo so much. Of course, he knows he’s only saying this out of petty jealousy, since he’s been friends with Leo since forever, but doesn’t that give him the right to complain at least a little? What does Leo have that he doesn’t? Did you like his followers and fame? He tries his best to grit his teeth and focus on his food, but the sound of your laughter rings constantly in the back of his mind. This sucks.

Leo has never been so emotionally charged in his life. It’s embarrassing honestly, how you cling to Alan and bat your eyelashes at him like he’s actually worth your time. The captain isn’t smart, he isn’t sharp in the slightest and you’re acting like he’s your savior. It makes him want to gag every time he sees you two, your arm linked with his, a dusty blush on his cheeks as you squeeze him closer. Gross, he can’t believe you feel comfortable touching him like that in public. It totally doesn’t bother Leo at all!

Haru knows better than to get in Towa’s way, and frankly, he wouldn’t dare. You two are precious together. Whether you’re dating or not he doesn’t know, but Haru does know that out of everyone in Jabberwock, you are absolutely the closest with Towa. He’s happy to see his friend happy, really! That’s enough for him! He just wishes that you would respond to his texts as fast as you respond to Towa’s...

Towa is alarmed, first and foremost. The interloper? Do you like him? Is it romantic? Is he your soulmate? Oh, no...Dandelion, you can do so much better, he promises! Ren won’t be able to give you half the things Towa can offer you. He isn’t embarrassed to be by your side or shower you in affection or work hard for your sake! He’d do anything for you, and oh does he mean anything.

Ren thinks it’s disgusting. You’re enamored with Haru. He’s caught you two holding hands, quite literally skipping through the meadows with Peekaboo while he sits inside, hunched over his phone. He scoffs, tearing his eyes away from you and your shimmering smile, and tries to kick the sound of your laugh out of his mind. He is, unfortunately, unsuccessful. Ren throws his head back and groans, searching his brain for any reason why anyone would like that boundary breaking clown of a captain. He comes up with nothing. But then again, the list of reasons why you would like him is about the same, is it not?

Taiga isn’t bothered. He’s always unbothered, if you ask him. That’s why when he sees you fawning over Lulu, he doesn’t bat an eye. Yeah, he’s a pretty guy. If anything, you have good taste. He doesn’t want to be treated that way, though, least of all by you, because that would be such a headache and he doesn’t need to deal with you all the time...right. Right. This is how things should be, of course.

Romeo is infuriated. It’s unthinkable that you would choose to admire that bossy first year over him! He calls you into his office time and time again, bringing up meaningless tasks for you to complete and it should be an honor to serve him! However...the second your phone rings you snatch it up with pure glee on your face and excuse yourself, cooing Ritsu! into the receiver with so much affection it makes him sick. Who do you think you are!? Fico is not to be ignored!

Ritsu tries not to feel too upset, watching you with the captain. It’s ridiculous to think that someone who regularly blows off his work and insults him would catch your eye! Of course, he respects the captain...and he needs his signature so he can protect him if a case does arise...but at the end of the day, that has nothing to do with you! Ritsu does not know how to classify his emotions, so he simply stiffles them, having no need for soft squishy feelings. He needs to be sound and logical at all times, lest bias take him by storm.

Subaru’s heart aches. When did you start getting along so well with Zenji? When did he become your favorite person? Subaru thought you two were getting really close after he told you what his stigma was, and he was so happy to have someone who didn’t care about any of it. He was elated to have someone who wanted to be his friend, but ever since you’ve started to see Zenji that’s been taken away from him. He doesn’t like the stabs of jealousy that pierce his heart, it makes him feel evil, so won’t you come back and fix things if he looks at you with all the heartbreak he can muster? Won’t you come back to him?

Haku doesn’t mind, honestly. Sure, he might make a few comments about you and Subaru being close, and if you were perspective enough you could definitely pick up a bit of sadness from his words, but he’ll never be upfront about it. He’ll still tease you, flirt with you, say suggestive things just to get you wound up, but it’s not the same anymore. Not when you find your home at Subaru’s side, leaning into his during assemblies, leaving Haku’s side cold and empty.

Zenji thinks it’s beautiful, watching love bloom between you and Haku. It’s a new source of inspiration for him! You, and your beautiful eyes, your soft smiles, your bright laughter, and before he knows it his inspiration is only you. He feels guilty, confessing to Haku that he is finding so much creativity in you, and Haku is so easy and patient and kind to him. Zenji doesn’t think Haku gets it, but maybe he does. Maybe he does, and isn’t bringing it up for a reason. And so Zenji aches, showering you in compliments tenfold, being unable to hold all of his affection inside lest he burst.

Edward agrees that Rui is very helpful. You seem to praise him a lot, and such praise is deserved, even if Edward likes to act like he doesn’t recognize what Rui does around the dorm. It’s Rui who resets his YouTube password and fixes the WiFi when it’s down. It’s Rui who cleans up his room and makes those delicious drinks. And apparently, as you have been so kind to divulge to him, Rui is also very sweet to you, always giving you compliments and making you special drinks to suit your exact preferences. It’s interesting. Very interesting.

Rui playfully winces every time you shoot him down, saying that you’re spending time with Lyca today or that you’re eating lunch with Lyca or that Lyca invited you to go for a walk with him. Rui, to his credit, bites his tongue when you turn on your heel and leave him standing there. He loves the thrill of the chase, the allure of someone who plays hard to get, but he knows that isn’t what you are. You’re someone with romantic feelings for a guy that isn’t him.

Lyca is concerned, to say the least. Edward isn’t the type of man you should be hanging around! He’s old and dusty and a total flirt, which makes him all the more filthy in Lyca’s eyes. No, don’t hang off his every word with that smile of yours! Don’t praise him for being brave! Don’t help him to bed when he starts to cough, he’s faking it! Ugh, why don’t you ever listen to him anymore...? Lately that moth-eaten Casanova has been taking up all of your time, and Lyca really doesn’t like it...

Yuri’s brow is wrinkled with frustration that, for once, does not come from working his ass off for days on end. It comes from you, chattering away with Jiro and praising him for his accomplishments. It makes an ugly monster in Yuri’s stomach twist and he knows it’s jealousy, knows it’s bad for him and his research. He slams his hands on the table and commands that you leave in a fit of anger. You look startled, then upset, then you yell something back before storming from the room. He slumps down in his chair, head in his hand, and fights back the tears that follow.

Jiro doesn’t mind, honestly. He’s just there to help Yuri out wherever he can. It makes sense that you adore Yuri so much, he is really smart, just like you say. You tell him he’s pretty and Jiro watches Yuri fumble, cheeks turning pink. It makes Jiro smile, seeing Yuri so happy, even if he doesn’t quite understand why a small part of him feels upset. Maybe you should call him pretty too, and then that feeling will go away.

[vacate-et-scire]

┊ ┊ •*. LOVE YOU LIKE A GOD

Synopsis: Your boyfriend deserves a little TLC and maybe some head?

Warnings: [NSFW MINORS DNI] [nuetral reader pretty sure] [blowjob/handjob?] [smut is gonna be less detailed this time around sorryyy] [overstimulation] [Smut but mainly fluff] [dry orgasm] [mentions of throat fucking]

w.c 1.7k

Jason had never been good at staying still.

Even now, lying beneath you in the dim glow of the bedroom, his fingers twitched against the sheets, body tense like he was waiting for something to go wrong. You could feel it in the way his muscles coiled under your touch, the way his breath hitched as your lips brushed over his collarbone.

But you weren’t in a hurry.

Your fingers traced the faint silver lines scattered across his skin, a patchwork of battles fought and survived. Some were smooth, long healed; others were rough, jagged, proof of wounds that ran deeper than flesh. And Jason—your Jason—wore them like armour, never letting anyone linger on them for too long.

Until now.

You kissed over a scar at his shoulder, slow and deliberate, whispering against his skin, “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Jason swallowed hard. His hands twitched again, like he wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or push you away. “…Don’t know about that.” He responded with a sardonic but meek laugh.

You ignored his doubt, trailing your lips down to the mark along his ribs, pressing a soft kiss there. “Strong.” Another kiss. “Resilient.” Another. “Still here.”

Jason exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re getting sappy on me, sweetheart…”

You smiled, resting your chin against his chest so you could meet his gaze. His expression was guarded, but his eyes—those deep, stormy blues—were soft, unsure in a way that made your heart ache.

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But you deserve it.”

Jason’s hand finally moved, sliding up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he let out a quiet, shaky breath.

“…You’re too good to me.”

You pressed another kiss to the centre of his chest, right over his heart. “Not possible.”

Jason didn’t respond right away. He just held you there, fingers curling into your hair, like he was grounding himself in you.

And maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to believe you.

Jason had gone quiet beneath you.

Not in a bad way, not in the way that meant he was retreating into himself. No, this was different—his breathing was slower, deeper, his fingers tightening in your hair like he didn’t want you going anywhere. Like he was letting himself be here, with you.

You kissed him again, just below his collarbone, letting your lips linger this time. His skin was warm under your touch, rising and falling steadily with each breath, but you could feel the way his heartbeat stuttered slightly—just for a second—before settling again.

It made something curl in your chest, something both tender and greedy.

“Jay,” you murmured, dragging your lips down the centre of his torso, nosing along the faint lines of muscle there. “You’re so warm.”

Jason huffed out a quiet, breathless laugh. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

You grinned against his skin, hands smoothing over his sides as you pressed another kiss just above his stomach. “Mhm.”

His grip in your hair tightened for half a second before his fingers slid down, tracing the line of your jaw, coaxing your face back up to his. When your eyes met, there was something molten in his gaze—like he was still half-disbelieving, half-dazed by the way you were touching him, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“You’re killin’ me here,” he muttered, voice rough around the edges.

You smiled, shifting slightly so you were fully sprawled over him, chest to chest, warmth bleeding between you. “Am I?”

Jason exhaled sharply as your weight settled over him, hands finding your hips on instinct. His thumbs brushed over your sides, slow and thoughtful, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“…Nah,” he admitted after a pause, voice quieter now. “Might actually be saving me.”

That was all it took to undo you.

You leaned in, kissing him fully this time, your lips soft but insistent against his. Jason inhaled sharply, hands tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen it.

His lips were warm, a little chapped, but he kissed you like he meant it, like he needed it, and you poured everything into it—every whispered praise, every touch, every unspoken promise.

Jason groaned softly into your mouth, rolling his hips suddenly into yours.

“You sure you wanna keep this up?” he murmured, voice low and teasing, but you could feel the heat simmering just under the surface.

You smirked, arms looping around his neck to keep him close. “I don’t hear you complaining.”

Jason chuckled, dipping down to kiss you again—slower this time, deeper.

And no, he definitely wasn’t complaining.

Your lips slotted out from his with ease, looking down at his slightly hazed eyes. Jason was only a man, he couldn't stop himself from taking and taking when all you wanted to do was give and give.

Soft lips trailed back down his neck with bites and nips to his skin and your tongue running over the pinkish flesh as you moved down. His chest was peppered in your lips before you'd move down again.

His abdomen, taut and slick with sweat under your mouth, Jason was always one to get worked up even from a little making out, he hadn't quite gotten used to the idea of someone loving him so intimately yet.

"Babe- Nhh… c'mon don't you think you're being a little mean? What happened to 'I'll take care of you' hmm" He tried to tease under his aching need for you, under his desperation to feel you "I don't feel very taken care of.."

That was the only initiative you needed.

"Oh really? Well I better fix my mistakes hm?"

It felt like hours had passed, although it was most likely more like twenty minutes, but how can you expect him to keep track like this? You'd initially given him mind-blowing head, don't get him wrong, he always appreciated when you used your mouth, but you seemed a lot more eager tonight.

Then he soon found out why, after he'd blissed out under your touch, you'd decided to keep going and once you heard that first whimper glide past his lips like he was clawing for it to come back in his throat, you needed more.

Now here he was, hands desperately gripping the sheets like a lifeline, his jaw is clenches, and he can't even open his eyes with how much he's straining from overstimulation. It's borderline painful, but he knew you'd stop at the drop of a hat if he said the magic words.

His hips were stuttering, trying to escape your grasp while your hand glides over his cockhead, twisting with every small bob and focusing on his most sensitive parts. He's leaking like a fuacet at this point, not just his cock but his eyes, weeping as he pulled back tears.

It wasn't often Jason wanted anyone else in control of his body, ever. Not after what had happened to him, but he had control here, at the sound of his safeword you'd stop, you had before. He trusted you, even if you were torturing him right now.

He whined out in a guttural tone when your mouth took him in again, gliding his length into your mouth while his tip briefly popped into your throat. He knew he could go deeper at a different angle, the memory of your head hanging off the bed as he face fucked your thro-

fuck.

He was close, again. You'd of course taken notice and doubled your efforts, which made him finally look down at the messy sight between his legs. You're drooling all over his cock, there is cum smeared on his thighs from countless orgasms and his entire pelvis has a glassy sheen.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his through your lashes, and he chokes when you moan around his shaft, suddenly taking him to the hilt.

"Oh- ah..! fuck.. fuck baby I can't.. I caaan't"

That only urged you to stay there, throat clenching his tip coaxing him to finish, but it just wasn't enough. His hand gripped your hair as he snapped his hips up in a daze and pulled your head back down to meet his thrusts for friction.

He could feel his balls draw up tight, he was about to snap like a twig. Then it came rushing, but it felt ruined, he had nothing left to give. His orgasm was completely dry from the amount of times you'd made him cum. He felt all the tingling sensations every single pulse, but it was almost like it lacked the relief.

"Mnnh- you did perfect love" Your voice rung out, a little hoarse but loving nonetheless, he hadn't even noticed you pulling off, you captured his lips and he could taste himself.

Jason was completely spent.

His chest rose and fell steadily, muscles loose and pliant beneath your touch, his usually sharp edges melted into something soft and unguarded. His head rested against your shoulder, lips parted as he took slow, even breaths, and his arms were still loosely wrapped around your waist—like even in his haze, he couldn’t bear to let go just yet.

You smiled, brushing damp strands of hair away from his forehead. “You okay, baby?” you murmured, voice quiet in the dimly lit room.

Jason let out a low, content hum, nuzzling further into your warmth. “Mmm.”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple. That was about all you were going to get out of him for now—he was completely wrecked, body heavy with exhaustion, but there was something undeniably sweet about seeing him this relaxed.

Grabbing the nearby towel, you gently wiped down his chest, careful with every touch. Jason barely stirred, only sighing when your hands moved over his skin, his fingers twitching slightly against your back like he was grounding himself in you.

“You were so good for me,” you whispered, tracing soothing circles along his spine. “So perfect.”

Jason shivered at your words, burying his face deeper against your shoulder. You felt his lips brush against your skin, a lazy, barely-there kiss, and your heart clenched at the tenderness of it.

You shifted, reaching for the water bottle on the nightstand. “Here, Jay—drink a little for me.”

He made a grumbly noise but obediently took a slow sip before collapsing back against you, entirely boneless. You laughed softly, setting the bottle aside before pulling the blankets up around you both.

Fingers combing through his hair, you pressed another kiss to his temple. “Love you.”

Jason didn’t answer right away, but his arms tightened around you, a slow, deliberate squeeze that said everything he couldn’t.

And that was more than enough.

[arxiwon]

No Escape

Pairing: Sunghoon x Reader

Genre: Smut

Warning: Dominant Sunghoon, Dirty Talk

You’re backed up against the cold wall of the room, the air thick with tension as Sunghoon’s gaze burns into you, full of hunger and control. He steps closer, the sound of his boots echoing in the silence, his hand resting just above your waist as his breath ghosts over your neck. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, his presence suffocating, but there’s nowhere to hide now.

"You’ve been teasing me all night," Sunghoon murmurs, his voice low and dangerously smooth, like a velvet blade. His fingers trace down your arm, sending shivers through your body, before he finally grabs your wrist, pinning it above your head.

“You think you can walk around here, looking so damn good, and not expect me to take what’s mine?” His lips graze your ear, and you can feel the smirk that forms on his face. "You don't get to tease me, sweetheart. Not anymore."

You’re trembling under his touch, his words slipping into your mind like a drug, making you ache with need. His hand slides down to your waist, pulling your hips flush against his as you gasp, feeling the hard outline of his desire pressing against you. His other hand moves to your chin, lifting your face to meet his intense gaze.

"You're gonna beg for me, aren’t you? You want me to fuck you so bad you can’t think straight, don’t you?" His words are like fire, making you squirm in anticipation. You try to suppress the moan threatening to escape your lips, but it’s no use—he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"You like when I talk to you like this, huh?" Sunghoon growls, his lips curling in a wicked smile. His hand trails lower, slipping between your legs with a confidence that leaves you breathless. “You want me to touch you? Or are you gonna keep pretending you don’t need me?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it slips away the moment his fingers brush against your most sensitive spot. The way he moves, the way he takes charge, makes it impossible to focus on anything but him.

"God, you’re so fucking wet," Sunghoon mutters, his voice dripping with desire as he presses a finger into you. "You think you can just sit there, looking like a fucking angel, and not expect me to ruin you?"

A moan escapes you, and Sunghoon's smirk widens. “That’s it. Let me hear you. Let me hear how much you need me. Because I know you’re not walking away until I’ve had you exactly how I want.”

His thumb circles your clit as he moves deeper inside you, his pace slow and teasing, every movement a reminder of his control. “You’re mine now, don’t forget that. Every inch of you is mine, and I’m gonna fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”

You’re losing yourself to him, your body responding to every thrust, every word, until all you can do is hold on to him. "Please, Sunghoon," you gasp, the need in your voice unmistakable. "Please, I need more."

He stops, pulling his fingers out of you, his eyes dark with amusement as he watches you squirm. "You beg so pretty. What do you want, baby? Tell me exactly what you need, and I’ll give it to you."

“I need you, Sunghoon. I need you inside me now.”

He growls, gripping your hips roughly, spinning you around so you’re bent over the wall, his body pressing up against yours. "You don’t get to tell me what to do. I decide when I fuck you, and I decide how hard. Understand?"

You nod, breathless, and without warning, he thrusts into you, hard and fast. You gasp, the sudden invasion making your body tremble, but you can't deny the way it makes you feel alive, like every nerve in your body is on fire.

"That's it," Sunghoon groans, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounds into you. "You feel so fucking good, so tight. You were made for me, weren't you? All of this," he thrusts harder, "all of you, belongs to me."

You can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips, the sensation overwhelming you, as he fucks into you relentlessly. His dirty talk only makes it worse, pushing you higher, until you’re a mess of desire beneath him.

"You’re gonna come for me, aren't you?" he demands, his voice dark with lust. "You’ll beg me to let you come, won’t you?"

“Please,” you gasp, feeling the pressure building, “please let me come, Sunghoon.”

“Beg for it,” he orders, and you obey without hesitation.

“I need to come,” you whisper, the desperation in your voice obvious. “Please, Sunghoon, let me come for you.”

"Good girl," he mutters, thrusting harder, deeper. “Come for me, right now. I want to feel you clench around me.”

With a final, deep thrust, you’re torn apart, your body trembling as you come, your moans filling the room. Sunghoon follows soon after, his body stiffening as he spills into you, his grip on your hips tight as he rides out his orgasm.

He pulls out slowly, his breath ragged, and looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. “That’s how it’s done.”

You barely have the energy to respond, still catching your breath, but all you can think is that Sunghoon’s dominance, his control, is the only thing you want, and it’s only just begun.

[pinkslipxox]

Reader is afraid of dogs and finds it difficult to bond with Shark

hey, my love! Hope you like it ❤️🙈🫶

——————————————————————————

You can’t help but tense up the moment you hear the sound of a dog barking. Today’s the day you finally meet Shark, Billie’s beloved pit bull, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of anxiety. Dogs have always made you nervous, and you’ve heard so many wonderful things about Shark being a gentle giant, but doubts start creeping in.

As you take a deep breath and approach the door, it swings open, revealing Billie in a cozy oversized hoodie, her hair in a messy bun, and a radiant smile on her face. She instantly wraps her arms around you, the smell of her perfume comforting and familiar. You two break from the hug, ever so slightly, and Billie plants a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You made it, mama,” she murmurs, her voice warm and inviting, instantly easing some of your worries. “Are you ready to meet my boy?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you reply softly, although you can’t shake the slight butterflies dancing in your stomach.

Beneath her bright smile, you see the gentle concern in Billie’s eyes. She steps closer and intertwines her hand with yours. “I promise, there’s nothing to be scared of. Shark is a total sweetheart. He’s just a big mush.” Billie’s confidence soothes your nerves a little more.

As you step into the living room, there’s Shark, sprawled comfortably on the couch. He looks up at you with curious brown eyes, and his tail thumps against the cushion. Despite his size, he radiates a sense of calm, but your stomach twists with nerves.

“Here he is!” Billie exclaims, her smile never fading. “Shark, this is Y/N. She’s my girlfriend!”

You take a cautious step forward, your heart racing as Shark rises to greet you. He trots over, tail wagging, but you can’t help but hold your breath.

“It’s okay,” Billie says, her voice soothing. “Just let him sniff you.”

You kneel down slowly, trying to seem composed as Shark approaches. He sniffs at your hand, and you feel your pulse quicken. Billie watches you intently, her eyes filled with adoration.

“He’s so big,” you whisper, the nervousness still lingering.

“I know, but he’s a sweetheart!” Billie leans beside you, her presence comforting. “You’re safe; he just wants to be friends.”

You feel Shark nuzzle your hand, and the softness of his fur is enticing. But your nerves remain, and you can’t seem to shake off the fear that holds you back. You give him a light scratch behind the ears, but you can’t quite relax.

“It’ll take time, I promise,” Billie says gently, sensing your discomfort. She wraps her arms around you from behind, her warmth sinking into you. “You’re doing so great, mama.”

Hearing her call you by the affectionate nickname warms your heart, but your anxiety still lingers. You want to bond with Shark, but there’s a part of you that feels stuck. You look over at Billie, who meets your gaze with nothing but love and encouragement.

“It’s okay to feel nervous,” she whispers. “Take your time. I’m right here.” Billie cradles you in her arms, her fingers gently brushing through your hair. You lean back into her embrace, feeling a bit more at ease in her presence.

You glance down at Shark, who is now sitting patiently at your feet, his large eyes watching you intently. “I just want to feel comfortable with him,” you admit, your voice small.

“You will, I swear,” Billie reassures you. “He can sense your feelings. He knows you’re trying. Just keep being yourself, and let him get to know you too.”

With Billie holding you, you feel a flicker of determination. You take a deep breath and decide to give Shark another chance. You crouch down again, leaning a bit closer this time.

“Hi, Shark,” you say softly, extending your hand toward him, and to your surprise, Shark leans in closer, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

“See? There you go!” Billie chirps, squeezing your shoulders gently. Feeling bolstered by her encouragement, you slowly pet Shark again, this time more confidently.

You can feel Billie’s gaze on you, filled with pride and affection. “You’re doing it, Y/N! I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, her voice a sweet melody in your ear.

As Shark lays his head in your lap, your heart swells with a mixture of nerves and warmth. With every gentle stroke of his fur, you start to feel the tension fade. Bonding with Shark may take time, but with Billie by your side, you finally feel like you can face your fears.

In that comforting embrace, surrounded by love and warmth, you whisper, “Thank you for being so patient with me, Billie.”

“Always, baby girl,” she replies, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, as you both settle into this new, beautiful chapter of your lives together—with Billie, Shark, and the comforting knowledge that you’re never alone.

[loveletterlore]

when the cracks begin to show ♡ b.b. x reader

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: Bucky and the reader are working with the Avengers, a brutal pair on missions. Over time, Bucky notices the reader struggling with the horror they've experienced, and fights to show them that he's there, they can do this together.

warnings: very evident trauma, reader can't remember their past, panic attacks, descriptions of trauma responses, a lot of tears and sadness, general angst and fluff

word count: 2.9k

authors note: i used to write fics for bucky in another life and it was such a homecoming writing for him again, loml

The past few missions had been very successful. Terrorist groups thwarted, military-grade equipment seized and decommissioned, kidnapped scientists returned to their labs. A large part of that success was down to your presence on those missions, your skill as an agent not going unnoticed by the team.

You had been working with the Avengers and SHIELD for a couple of years after your escape from that shitty town, where your body and mind hadn’t been your own, controlled by another. Training and living with the team had allowed you to expand your skills and hone your abilities, especially when you had started getting assigned missions with the big guys themselves.

In recent months, a relationship with Bucky had blossomed, bonding over past traumas, shared distaste for criminal overlords and an appreciation for simply beating the shit out of a punching bag. Evenings shared lying on the sofa, watching a movie or just talking until the moonlight illuminated the carpet had deepened your bond. It was no longer clear where one person ended and the other began.

On missions, the two of you were a brutal pair. Everyone knew of Bucky’s past, so it was easy to make the connections there. You, however, were a bit of an enigma - it was hard to share about a past that you couldn’t recall yourself. The team knew that when both of your names were on the roster, there would be no-one left behind.

Over the past few missions, you had become noticeably more callous. It took you longer to come out of the dissociative headspace you found yourself in during those fights. You tried to counteract it by emphasising your presence when you were able to, but Bucky could tell straight away. 

Bucky knew better than most how triggers could manifest in a soul, how a smile could hide horrors unknowable to normal men. 

He tried to talk to you about it at first.

“Hey, doll,” steam drifted from the bathroom as you emerged through the door, drying your hair harshly with a towel. It was ritualistic, the way you took a shower after returning from a mission. 

You forced your eyes up to meet his penetrating gaze, plastering a smile across your lips.

“Hey, your turn,” you forced a chuckle, which rattled through your empty chest. 

He hummed in response, “Come sit for a minute.”

You perch on the edge of the bed and Bucky immediately feels the distance between you. He shifted his hand slightly, moving it closer to you. Your eyes immediately settled on it, your heart screaming out for you to grasp it, to never let it go. But you couldn’t.

“Darlin’,” Bucky’s eyes scoured your face for any signs of life. “Tell me.”

Your breathing shortened, hard and fast, “Tell you what?” Your voice was quieter than anticipated and you cursed yourself for sounding weak.

“Anything,” Bucky reached out, grabbing your hand and rubbing small circles with his thumb.

The movement broke your heart, why couldn’t you just let him in?

“I’m okay, really,” you squeezed his hand, looking up into his eyes. “Just tired.”

Bucky knew better than to push, he didn’t want to risk any more damage than had clearly already been done. He pulled you towards him, enveloping you in his arms. You rested your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

You hoped he didn’t feel the tear that fell from your eye.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Bedsheets gathered around your feet from your rapid movements, a thin layer of sweat glistening on your body. The air, hot and heavy, weighed you down, crushing your chest as your lungs tried to heave in oxygen.

You were vaguely aware that your arms were being held down, something stronger than you preventing them from thrashing back and forward. Your voice was hoarse from rasping shouts, crying out in pain.

Darlin’, I’m right here, you’re okay.

His voice broke through the haze, the clouds starting to clear. Your heart pounded in your chest, so forceful you swore it would go right through your ribs. Your limbs went from powerful beatings to controlled shaking as you started to retreat into yourself, curling into your chest. 

Bucky tilted your head so that your ear was flush against his chest, his heartbeat ruminating through your body. Unconsciously, you synced your breathing with his as he pulled you to lie on top of him, hands stroking up and down your arms. You lay for what felt like hours until you had the strength to speak.

“I’m sorry,” your skin was sticky with sweat, peeling your face from his bare chest. You pressed a kiss to his shoulder, right where the skin connected to metal.

“Don’t apologise,” Bucky murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “How many times have we done this, the other way around?”

An absentminded smile tugged at your lips, the love between the two of you palpable. Bucky’s hand reached up to tangle in your hair, massaging your head. Soon enough, your soft snores vibrated his chest as you fell back to sleep.

Bucky spoke softly, cautious not to wake you up, “God, what are we gonna do?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The missions kept coming and you ended up further and further from him. 

Your vision blurred as you spun, a dagger flying from your hand. A grunt escaped you as you dropped to one knee, throwing a body over your shoulder and driving your foot down into their chest. Air caught in your chest as you scanned the horizon, looking for the next target.

Blood rushed in your ears, heart pounding a fast, strong rhythm. The field was clear, you had taken out the enemy group, leaving none behind. You stood quickly, dizziness washing over you as you nearly lost your footing. You quickly realised you had been holding your breath, your lungs burning as you gasped, trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could.

A high pitched ringing deafened you as you clapped your palms over your ears, wincing from the pain. Your eyes squeezed shut as a scream brewed in your stomach. 

Hands appeared on yours, sending you flying back in self-defense. You raised your fists, armed within a split-second and prepared for combat. 

Brown eyes bore into yours, piercing through the haze you were stuck in. Your head screamed to go to him, your heart bursting out of your chest as your breathing continued to pick up, head going woozy with lack of oxygen. 

Muffled speech echoed in your ears, a familiar voice trying desperately to get through to you. 

Doll, can you hear me? It’s gonna be alright, I’ll get you out of here. You did it, you’re okay.

Suddenly, you became aware that your face was wet, but you couldn’t summon the strength to raise your hands. 

Bucky stepped toward you, hands outstretched as a sign of safety. Your body began to shake as the adrenaline coursing through your veins wore off and you dwindled back to your body, broken and afraid. Bucky placed a hand on your arm, wincing as he saw the blood instantly staining his glove. You weren’t even aware you had been hit, your body hadn’t registered the pain yet.

“Hey darl’, I got you,” Bucky lifted you into his arms, cradling you as he spotted the blood seeping from a gash on your side. More concerning than the rate of blood leaving your body was the lack of expression on your face, your consciousness still miles away. 

Bucky ran back to the Quinjet, laying you on the table in the center and sweeping your hair out of your face. A small wince crossed your face as you flinched at the touch, an unconscious reaction. 

The remainder of the mission team loaded back onto the Quinjet, staying clear of the pair of you after seeing the hard lock of Bucky’s jaw. He pressed his hand on your side, trying to stem the bleeding.

You gritted your teeth, eyes still closed, at the pressure and huffed out a shallow breath. 

“I know, I’m sorry doll,” Bucky’s jaw was clenched shut, half from fear and half from indignation. He couldn’t let this keep happening.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can’t keep sending them out there,” Bucky’s hands were on his hips, pacing the board room. “They’re not doing well, surely you can see that.”

“I mean, they’ve always been a bit out of it after a mission, are you sure it’s not just that?” Tony replied, sighing a deep breath.

Bucky’s fists tensed and flexed as he bit the inside of his lip, “I’m pretty damn sure. Look, either you take them off duty or I find another way, which would more than likely involve some of your lovely new equipment not looking so lovely.”

“Look here, Tin Man,” Tony stood, raising a pointed finger before stopping, sighing. They’re one of the best agents we have, if it wasn’t for the two of you, half of these missions wouldn’t be anywhere near as successful as they are. I understand your point but unfortunately, my hands are tied.”

Bucky growled, running a hand through his hair, “Take it from me, if there is one mistake, one trigger, this is all going to explode. They are going to explode. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to put them back together.”

“Sarge, we’ve been through this before. Hey, if it makes you feel any better I’ll take them off the missions for this week, but there’s nothing I can do beyond that. And if they ask, I’m telling them it was you.”

Bucky let his shoulders drop, taking anything he could get at this point. He nodded toward Tony before leaving the room, heading down the hallway.

Reaching your room, he paused, resting his head against the door. He knew you were inside - you didn’t leave your room much anymore - but he could hardly bear to see the shell of the person he loved more than the world itself. 

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open slowly, revealing your figure sat before the vanity, brushing your hair absentmindedly. Your gaze was faraway, not even blinking. The door handle clicked as it rebounded off of the wall, Bucky grimacing at the sound.

You flinched, the hairbrush flying out of your hand in Bucky’s direction and jumping to your feet. Blinking once, then twice, you realised the man standing before you and panicked, forcing your eyes to his face.

“Hey Buck, you scared me,” you sighed, moving to sit on the bed.

Bucky grabbed the hairbrush, walking over to join you. He crawled over the bed, kneeling behind you and brushing a hand across your cheek.

“May I?” he spoke softly, barely more than a whisper. 

You nodded slowly, closing your eyes and finding comfort in sharing his space. A shiver tickled down your spine as the hairbrush glided through your hair, Bucky’s fingertips lightly touching your scalp. You leaned back to rest against his chest as he took care of you, being extra careful with any knots he encountered.

“You’re good at this,” your voice was small, almost as though you were sharing a secret.

“I had some practice,” Bucky smiled against you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I ever tell you I have a sister?”

Your eyebrows knitted together as you turned to look at him, seeing a sad, contemplative smile on his face. “You never said.”

“Yeah, a little sister. ‘S called Rebecca, I used to help her with her hair if my mom was busy before school. Got pretty good at it too, hence my own,” he shook his head, messing his hair to emphasize the point. 

You reached up, brushing the hair back out of his face and cupping his cheeks with your hands. His eyes met yours, glazed over at the memory. Your thumb brushed across his lips and he turned to kiss the palm of your hand.

“Talk to me doll,” Bucky whispered, leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against your cheek. “Please, I need you to talk to me, I need to help you.”

“Bucky-” you breathed.

“Doll, you know I’ve got you. Let me help you,” he punctuated his words with soft kisses against your cheek.

You inhaled his familiar scent, cedarwood and cinnamon tickling your nostrils, as you leaned further into him, craving his closeness.

“Okay,” you barely even spoke, the sound no more than a strangled breath from your throat.

Bucky drew away from you, studying your face before pulling you back into his lap, cradling you with his arms. 

“I don’t really know what happens,” you started, whispering as though shielding yourself from the truth of your words. “I mean, it’s always been kind of like this. It’s like I zone out for the mission, no distractions, then when we’re done it takes a while to zone back in.”

Bucky nodded slowly, one hand running over your hair while the other squeezes your hand soothingly. “I get ya, it’s not easy doing this.”

“Yeah,” you closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “Recently, it’s like- it’s like I end up on another planet. I just can’t find my way back home.”

You sighed, a wave of regret washing over you. 

“I can feel it though, I’m trapped inside. I just can’t break through,” your chin started to tremble, fear coursing in your veins. “I can’t do it.”

Bucky pulled you into his chest, shushing the tears that began to fall. 

“I’m sorry, this isn’t fair to put on you,” you sobbed into Bucky, body shaking as your breath left faster than you could inhale.

“Darlin’, my beautiful darlin’,” Bucky whispered into your hair. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you right here.”

“It’s just so frustrating. I don’t even know where this comes from. Why can’t I just remember?”

There it was, the core of the issue. Bucky had thought himself damn unlucky to remember everything that HYDRA had put him through, especially given all the time since then where he had to relive it. Before meeting you, he hadn’t considered what it would be like to experience the flashbacks, the panic attacks, the meltdowns without even being able to pinpoint what was causing them.

Despite endless amounts of therapy, experiments from Tony and Bruce, medication, unhealthy amounts of self-medication, you still struggled to grasp more than a fleeting image from those years. You remembered brief moments as a child, surrounded by people you no longer recognise. There were images that came to you, but the person in them was unrecognisable - it was your face but there was nothing there.

Bucky rocked you slowly, his heart breaking at the sobs wracking your body. Your breathing was getting faster and faster, and thanks to Bucky’s enhanced hearing he could hear the blood pumping your accelerating heart. He had seen these symptoms many times, more in his own body than yours.

Lifting your hand to rest on his chest, he tilted your chin to force your eyes to his.

“Love,” he whispered, following by exaggerating his breathing. Tears flowed freely down your face as your eyes roamed his face, panic taking over. Your movements became frantic, hands shaking as you pulled yourself from his arms on shaky legs. “Doll?”

“I just- I just need-” your voice wobbled as you glanced at Bucky, seeing the troubled expression on his face, before running out of the door.

You didn’t know where you were going, you just knew you had to keep moving.

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The bruises on your knuckles didn’t help. The pain in your wrists from the repeating motion didn’t help. The burning in your arms didn’t help.

You were sitting on the floor, legs splayed as you wrapped and re-wrapped your fists. You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been in the training room, it could have been hours or days. 

The door opened behind you, footsteps gentle but instantly recognisable. The time spent abusing the punching bag had allowed you to gather your thoughts, writing a script in your head.

“I want to get better, I do. I know I’ve not been showing that, but I want to get better. For me, for you, for us.”

You took a deep breath, eyes focused on your hands to avoid distracting yourself with his presence.

“It’s gonna take a lot of work. I mean, shit, it’s already taken nearly everything from me, but I won’t let it take you from me. I refuse,” you didn’t look up as you spoke, inherently knowing it was Bucky stood behind you.

“I want to help you, doll,” his voice was deep.

“I don’t know how to let you,” you turned then, meeting his eyes. “But I’m willing to try. You’ve already been through all of this, you’ve been to hell and back, I don’t know how you survived it my love.”

“It was worth it to get to you,” he stepped towards you, reaching for your hands. You grasped them, never wanting to let go again.

“You don’t have to do this again, I wouldn’t blame you if it was too much.”

“Doll,” Bucky took your face in his hands, resting his forehead on yours. “There is no world in which we are not together in this. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be here and I mean that.  We’re gonna do this.”

“You and me.”

masterlist for more of my work <3

[yandere-sins]

You’re so right about Mydei he’d be so sad if we were depressed, maybe us being lifeless would even remind him of his family/people… he is suffering :D anyway it’s my birthday, any Mydei crumbs possibly available?? 🥺

Exactly my thoughts!! Glad you agree ♥

And happy (belated) birthday!! Hope you had a wonderful day and cake ♥ Thanks for requesting something on your birthday ♥

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"Here."

Whatever he had brought home for you made a loud clank as he set it down at the table, and you pondered your options. You could pretend not to care and ignore it, or you could play along only to crush his inflated ego by turning down his offer. Both options were valid and understandable in your situation; being kidnapped did not make you see Mydei in a favorable light. But in the end, your curiosity won.

He stood beside the table, waiting for you to get up from your lounge chair and give him the attention he always starved for. But much more surprising than a Chrysos Heir being needy for his captive's affection and respect, he thought he was owed, was the dish he had brought home for you that day, something creamy on a golden plate. Toppled over fruits and the messy state showed that he must have taken the quick way back, not caring much if the dish would survive. But you furrowed your brows as you realized what it was, your mouth opening and closing again in surprise.

"Is that... cake?" you asked carefully, not believing your eyes. Mydei grunted, and you were too stunned to speak. Instead, you slipped your legs off the lounge chair and slowly walked up to the table, your gaze fixated on the messy mix of cream and chocolate until you looked up to meet his.

"You brought me... cake?" you repeated, and your eyes watched him tense up before he took a deep breath, his whole body growing agitated, as was his sour expression.

"Yeah, I did. Are you going to eat it, or continue to ask me if it's cake?"

"But... But why?"

Finally reaching the table, you looked down at the pitiful piece of what must have been a delicious-looking dessert once. Not that you were complaining, but this was highly suspicious. It was too tempting to be good; something must have been up. Perhaps he was planning to do something as crude as kidnapping you again. But where to? Was this some form of punishment? Mydei didn't care for eating anything unless it gave him enough energy to fight. He wouldn't eat a slice of cake just to force you to watch. Maybe an incentive? But he hadn't made any demands of you lately...

Groaning in annoyance, he walked over to a chair and planted his ass firmly on the cushions, looking at you as if you were dumb. You felt like it, admittedly, but you didn't know what you had done for him to call you out like this. Awkward silence befell you two, neither of you moving, and no explanations were given.

"It's your birthday, is it not?" he finally reasoned, and you were taken aback by the statement. You couldn't be sure. The time spent in captivity had been too damn long, enough that all the "nights" you fell asleep couldn't be tracked any longer. It didn't help that the night never set in Okhema, making it hard to keep track, so you had simply given up at some point.

"Is it?" you asked hesitantly, stepping even closer towards your captor. Even though you should have kept him at a distance, you couldn't help it, seeking the truth.

"It is," he confirmed, sounding absolutely certain about the fact. Something inside you told you he wasn't lying this time, although it was hard to believe he cared about such—for him trivial—things... Then again, he always made sure to tell you he cared about you, even if you never believed him. Lowering his hand towards the table, Mydei flicked over a golden fork. His foot reached out to the second chair, drawing it closer, and it was almost gentlemanly, considering he positioned it right behind you. However, your seat was too close to him for comfort, which might have been all the more reason for him to do it. It was hard to believe he could act selflessly when he was the most selfish person you knew.

Sitting down, you stared at the fallen pile of cake, slowly reaching up to take the fork in your hand. Only now did you notice you were shivering, realizing the tumult of feelings inside you. Knowing it was your birthday felt especially odd, but having forgotten it, not celebrating it with the people you loved, and having to be reminded and spend it with someone you loathed was heartbreaking.

A tear ran down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away before plunging the fork into the creme and dough, ripping out a piece. But you couldn't stop all of the tears from escaping as you tasted the sweet richness of the dessert, chocolate melting in your mouth, and the fruity taste reminding you of the things you loved. The people you loved, the ones you wished you could spend this day with. Putting down the fork, you sobbed, using a napkin to muffle yourself, but there was no doubt that Mydei had already long noticed. He was attentive like that, his eyes always watching you when he was around.

"If you hate it so much, you can just throw it away."

Mydei leaned forward, reaching for the plate, and you were quick to slam your hand on top of his, stopping him. It made both of your eyes widen in surprise, as you had never willingly given out your touch to him. Neither had you ever shown such possessiveness about anything, mainly because all you had now was his in the first place, and Mydei had made sure you knew he could always take it back at any time.

"No!" you immediately replied, your voice cracking, but you were firm. "No, I like it... Just give me a moment."

Covering your face in the tissue, you took deep breaths, trying to collect yourself. It wasn't easy being surprised with the news about such a special day and then realizing the madness of your circumstances once more. Part of you seemed to have already given up and accepted this life as the new normal. That's why when Mydei revealed what day it was, it upset that new mindset. You couldn't live in the despair and fighting every day, thus you tried so hard to get used to it. But you still weren't, and most likely, you never would.

When you lowered the fabric away again, you looked at the mess before you. You wanted to gobble it up, eat it all, and lick the plate to make sure you made the most of this chance. Who knew if he'd ever bring you cake again? Who knew if he was willing to entertain this sort of whim more if you behaved as he asked you to? But it was hard. Your stomach churned, not wanting to take another bite. Not giving this man the gratification of having done something nice for you and perhaps asking for a reward in return.

Not admit again that you were a captive and he could tempt you to play along with something as bittersweet as cake.

Watching you hesitate, Mydei kept silent, studying the pain in your expression and the longing in your eyes. You didn't think he was capable of reading you well enough, always the "do or don't" type rather than finding a middle ground. But for some reason, he did that day, taking the fork from your hand and scooping up some cake.

Mydei didn't do any prompting or belittling, he simply held up the piece at the height of your mouth and waited silently, maintaining eye contact with you as you initiated it. Hesitantly, you leaned forward, taking the bite into your mouth before looking away, ashamed. Allowing him to feed you felt even more wrong than eating the cake on your own, yet you couldn't bring yourself to spit out the only joyful thing you had experienced in a long while.

You two continued like this, the mixed feelings never satisfied and neither was your hunger for more sweet deliciousness. The last piece was especially big, and you had to open wide, feeling terribly exposed as Mydei watched your every move with keen interest, lips jerking into a smile every now and then. You let out your breath, and with it, the pressure, as you chewed on the last bite, feeling unhappy with yourself for complying and yet oddly satisfied by the cake. The thought that you deserved that slice of cake wasn't as far off, even if it was stupid, knowing who it came from.

A rough thumb pressed against the corner of your mouth, making you focus immediately on the ever-looming threat in the room. You felt Mydei's finger swipe upwards a little before pulling away, a bit of cream clinging to it. Undisturbed, Mydei licked it off, letting his tongue linger against his thumb just a little too long, unsettling you with foul thoughts. He didn't seem to be the type to believe in indirect kisses, yet it felt indecently intimate to you.

"Sweet," he commented, and you looked up, finding his eyes on you, which made your cheeks heat up. You kept telling yourself that he wasn't the type to make compliments or be nice to you, rather living in the illusion that you two were nowhere near as close as Mydei seemed to think you were.

But when he got up, holding your head between his warm palms for a moment to plant a small, unexpectedly gentle kiss on top of it, mumbling, "Happy Birthday," into your hair before leaving to go and change his clothes after a long day, only one thing came to your mind.

He was almost... sweet.