#and I normally get a little something for them

[rex-rambles]

➤ THE COSTUME | LANDO NORRIS

pairing: lando norris x single mom!reader

summary: your son wants nothing more than to have spiderman at his birthday, and when a certain neighbour finds out, he decides to take matters into his own hands to make it happen.

wc: 4.2 k

warnings: none!

➤ MASTERLIST

"Mr. Norris?" Lando had a soft spot for kids. That much was obvious, especially when they were fans. Maybe it's that he remembers being that age, what it felt like to meet someone he thought was a celebrity. Maybe it was the little McLaren merch, or baby fever, or something, but Lando had a soft spot for kids.

Milo, however?

Milo could probably tell Lando to crash during a race and he'd do it.

"You alright?" He finds himself saying, immediately squatting to Milo's level by the elevator. In the boy's hands are a stack of red and blue envelopes, with names written twice: once in neat, formal writing, and the other in Milo's. "What've you got there?" 

"It's for my birthday party." Milo says quietly, extending the envelopes. "It's spider-man." 

"No way!" Lando says, smiling down at the papers. "That's so cool! How old are you turning?" 

Rather than answering, Milo holds up four fingers, the coordination making the envelopes spill from his hands. Lando's quick to pick them up, neatly sorting them into a stack, when he realizes one has his name on it. "Is this for me? Do I get to come to your birthday party?" 

"Oh, you're the guest of honour." Your voice says from above, and Lando counts another reason he has a soft spot specifically for Milo: 

You. 

His mother. 

You couldn't be much older than him, soft spoken and so kind when you moved in next door, offering sweet treats and texting apologies, laughing at his jokes, taking care of Milo. It was the sort of infatuation that Lando wasn't used to, at least with normal people in real life. You were perfect, he was pretty sure, except that was an insane thing to say to someone, let alone your neighbour. "I'm so honoured." 

The elevator doors ding open and Lando rises to let Milo and you past, and despite the fact that he had just gone up the elevator, he gets back on to waste a moment with you. "Is spider-man coming?" Milo asks up at you, and you gently card your hand through the boy's hair, and Lando wonders how that would feel if you did it to him. 

"No, sweetheart. I'm afraid Spider-Man is busy in New York!" Maybe it was the little British accents, too, that really got him. Lando rented an apartment, back home, for whenever he needed to escape from the chaos that was Monaco and just be normal. You, he thinks, are the perfect embodiment of that normal. 

Just a normal person, leading a normal life, telling your kid Spider-Man can't come to his birthday. Only, as Lando stares down at the envelope in hand, Spider-Man could technically come to the birthday. He might not be able to do a flip, but Lando's pretty sure he still has an old Spider-Man costume hung up in a closet somewhere, and has a cheery enough voice for it. 

"Well, I will definitely be coming." The elevator doors ding open to the first floor as you lead Milo out by the hand, and he reaches up to take Lando's, dragging him along towards the main doors of the building. "Oh, am I joining you today?" 

"You're going to take us in your car," Milo states firmly. "Your fast car." 

"I don't think we'd all fit," You offer with a soft laugh, the kind of noise that has Lando dreaming of a domesticity he's never even thought of before. "And I think Mr. Norris has more important things to be doing today." 

Mr. Norris. It was a sweet thing, for Milo to call him, but whenever you said it, Lando always considered what it would be like to call you Mrs. Norris. 

Not that he would ever, ever voice that thought aloud. "And if you're busy the day of the party, no worries." You add quietly back to him, stopping at the door. "Milo just wanted to make sure you got an invite." 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world!" He responds honestly. "Do you need me to bring anything? Snacks? Presents?" 

"I think just bringing yourself would be enough. I'm sure the other kids will be very, very excited a professional race car driver is at the party." Well, an F1 Driver AND Spider-Man, but he decides to leave you out of those plans. "Say goodbye to Mr. Norris, Milo!" 

"Bye, Mr. Norris," Milo says, waving happily. "See you at the party." 

Lando watches the two of you go, happily walking down the street, and he waits in the doorway until you're gone before he's sprinting back to the elevators. He needed to test out that Spider-Man costume, and find the best possible gift he's ever given in roughly a week. 

Manageable, he thinks. 

Surely that's manageable.

-

The knock on the door is the only unexpected part of Milo's birthday party. So far, everything had gone off without a hitch - all the decorations were perfect, the cake had arrived, the kids were somewhat behaving themselves for a room of four year olds, hyped up on sugar. 

Milo, ever the little copycat, was trying to show them how to play Mario Kart, because when Mr. Norris arrived, Milo wanted to show off how he could beat him at the game. 

Lando threw every game, but Milo didn't need to know that. The thought of the racer next door then clicks to the knock on your door, and you quickly spare a glance in the mirror in the hall before answering. It was a stupid, stupid, childish crush to have on the man, but you couldn't help it. 

Maybe it was the way he played with Milo, offered to babysit, raced around the world and somehow kept a level head, maybe it was how he looked, and how he spoke, and how he dressed, and how he acted, or maybe it was the way he looked at you when he thought you were paying attention to Milo. 

Whatever it was, you were starting to get a bit embarrassed of how much you looked forward to seeing Lando today, until you open the door, and Lando was not standing there. 

Instead, there's Spider-Man, with a stack of boxes tucked under his arm. "Hey there!" He says, with an accent most certainly British but trying not to be. "I heard there's a me-themed birthday party?" 

Slowly, without alerting the kids, you peer around the door and into the living room, where they are still glued to the television, and the parents are watching and conversing nearby. "Spider-Man," You say quietly, "How did you get my address?" 

"A friend of mine told me," He says, accent slipping, "He drives fast cars, and lets me borrow them for my missions." 

"Oh, does he now?" You step aside to hold open the door, and you turn toward the kids. "Milo, your special guest is here!" 

"Mr. Norris?" Then, as Milo turns, you watch the greatest shock you think you've ever seen wash over his face as his jaw drops, clinging to the back of the couch as he stares at Spider-Lando, who offers a cheesy wave. 

And really, maybe you liked Lando because of how much Milo loved him. Watching him now, sprinting full-tilt at the driver, it almost makes you emotional. He had never run like that towards any man, only ever you. Well, you suppose he doesn't know it's Lando, but maybe it's the fact that Lando does stuff like this when he really doesn't need to. 

Lando lets the presents drop to scoop up the boy, who's been spouting questions faster than any human, or any superhuman, could answer them. You join Lando's side to gently take Milo's hand, who finally sucks in a breath to look at you. "Mom," He whispers dramatically, "Spider-Man came." 

"Well, you're a very special kid." You answer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Of course he'd come." 

Four years old. You remember when he was just a thought, a terrifying realization, and now, he was your world, dressed up like Spider-Man himself and in Spider-Man's arms. "Is that Mario Kart?" 

"We have to wait to play with Mr. Norris." Milo says, looking at the TV and the other kids, who are now circling Lando. "He's coming soon." 

"Why don't we do something else then?" Lando offers, voice cracking. You can tell he's smiling under that stupid mask at the thought of Milo waiting for him to play the game. 

"We could do cake." You say, and the crowd erupts with chants for cake. Lando gets Milo to his spot at the head of the table and helps pull out chairs for the others as parents snap photos, offering you strange looks. You had told them, outright, you hadn't been able to afford someone to play Spider Man. 

And now, here he was. You take the cake from its box on the counter, and stick in the large 4 candle and light them, as the kids begin singing. You had been so worried, once, about Milo making friends, about being a single mother, but watching now as you set the cake down in front of him, as he blows out the candles and everyone cheers, as other parents offer to help with plates and knives and forks, you realize you might actually be good at this parenting thing, even if the situation wasn't the best.

"Can you take off your mask to eat some?" Milo says, awkwardly grabbing at Spider-Lando's cheek, who happily moves the boy's hand away.

"I have to keep my identity a secret!" Lando says, before carefully rolling up the edge of his mask. "So I'll do it like this, yeah?" 

"That's silly," Milo says with a giggle, and you cut out a slice for him, which he immediately hands off to Lando. "For you!" 

"No, muppet, birthday boys get the first slice!" Lando has fully abandoned the accent by now, but no one really cares. The rest of the cake gets distributed and smeared across faces, Milo included. He gets one streak of blue icing far up on his cheek, and you grab a napkin to wipe it off. "Do I have any?" Lando asks, and without thinking, you reach over to gently wipe some icing from the corner of his mouth. 

No one seems to notice the action, too absorbed with eating and celebrating, but you feel your cheeks burn, quickly turning back to watch Milo as he finishes up. By the time the cake is done, and Lando hasn't arrived, Milo decides to turn from Mario Kart to a game called 'Spider Man Tag', where everyone chases Lando around the apartment, and you take videos of the whole thing, laughing. 

When that's done, and the kids stop climbing on him, and just when he looks like he might faint, one of the girls suggests hide and seek, and Milo immediately volunteers to be the seeker. "Go hide," He says to you, before clapping his hands over his eyes. "Spider-Man too." 

You're quick to help the other kids find their spots, throwing blankets over them and tucking them behind curtains until finally, Milo is down to 1, and you realize you haven't hidden. Luckily, you don't seem to be the only one alone in this, because Lando grabs your hand and pulls you into the front hall closet, just as Milo pulls his hands away from his eyes. 

"Hold the door," Lando says, and you put your hand together on the sliding doors to keep them from moving, and Lando pulls off his mask with a gasp. He's flushed, hair slick with sweat, and you can imagine this is what he must look like after a race. Hell, you've seen what he looks like after a race - he might honestly look worse. 

Cramped together, he doesn't have much room to wipe over his face, arm bumping into you. "You okay there, Spider-Man?" 

"I worked out this morning!" He groans softly. "That was so stupid." 

"Language," You chide softly, and he offers an amused scowl. "There are little ears nearby." 

"They can't hear us," Lando says, intercut by a scream of a child found as Milo happily laughs. "Right?" 

"We'll just have to whisper," You say, as the predicament you're in slowly dawns on you. 

You're chest to chest with Lando Norris, in a spider-man costume, in your closet, as he pants against you.

There are a lot of not age-appropriate thoughts that occur, so you shift quickly into something you can talk about. "You really didn't have to do all this," You say, and Lando cracks a smile. "You've made his year, I think. This is too much." 

"Well, he said he wanted Spider-Man, so he gets Spider-Man." Lando says, eyes skimming down your face before snapping up to your eyes. "How much longer do you think we have in here?" 

The world slows a little bit at the question. "Not much longer," You say, as Lando somehow manages to shift closer. "Breath while you can." 

"The mask is awful," He says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "Think it's constricting my airways." 

Well, if you need CPR... "You can say you need to get going to stop a villain or something, and then come back as Lando. He'd be just as excited." 

"No, no, I'm committing to the Spider-Man thing." He says, tugging the mask on, but stopping before his mouth. "Can I ask you something cheesy, and you promise not to hate me for it?" 

"Trust me, Lando, there's little you could do to make me hate you." 

"I always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thi-" The door to the closet yanks open as Lando fumbles to get the last of his mask down, and Milo cackles in delight. 

"FOUND YOU!" He grabs both your hands and drags you back to the living room, and you try to take as many deep breaths as possible. 

He always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thing. 

Did he...with you? "Why don't we do presents?" You say, trying to find anything to distract you, and also give Lando a break. "Go sit on the couch, Milo." 

You gather up the few gifts the children brought, and Lando grabs the ones he abandoned by the door. Like any little kid, Milo rips through each package excitedly, showing off cars and Spider-Man toys and a new bubble-blower, until finally, he gets to Lando's presents, who you're sure didn't wrap them himself. 

Or, if he did, you might just love him more, considering the Spider-Man wrapping paper that's wrapped neater than you could ever manage, bow included. Milo, for some reason, takes his time opening them, and the first two are Lego sets, one of a Spider-Man scene, the second a McLaren car. 

Oh, Lando. "Mr. Norris still isn't here!" Milo says, distraught. "This is his car!" 

"Mr. Norris invited me!" Lando says, gesturing to the gift. "He told me what to get you! Maybe he'll build it with you when he gets back." 

Then, Milo carefully opens the third box, and discovers his very own webshooters. "No way!" He immediately hands the box off to you to open, which is basically the equivalent of silly string, strapped to his wrists. The moment he gets them on, he begins spraying, and in a matter of mere minutes, the room is covered in string as the kids all giggle in unison. At some point, Lando squats beside him to help him aim and shoot, carefully gesturing to things that will be easier to clean up, and your heart clenches at the image. 

Because as much as you were good at this parenting thing, as much as you had mastered being a single mother, it was something new to see a man in Milo's life who wanted to be there, who cared for him, who bought him gifts and came dressed as Spider-Man and who just...adored him, like you adored him. 

You're not sure how long you just stare at the chaos unfolding, but it's long enough you think you might genuinely have feelings for Lando, cheesy Spider-Man suit be damned. It's the sort of messy, perfect ending to a messy, perfect day. As much as Milo really doesn't want to end the party, considering Mr. Norris hasn't shown up, he's yawning and trying to fight off the inevitable crash that comes after this. 

The kids get their party favours, which include pictures with Spider-Man, and Milo says goodbye to everyone, perched on Spider-Man's shoulders, and Lando carefully dumps the boy on the couch with a huff. "I think you need to get cleaned up!" He says, gesturing to the cake and silly string staining the boy's clothes. "Heroes have to stay clean!" 

The moment Milo disappears into the washroom, Lando collapses onto the couch, head hanging back off the back of it to look at you. You step forward and gently uncurl the mask, and with as much bravery as you can muster, you speak. "Can I ask you something cheesy, and you promise not to hate me for it?" Lando's lips part as he swallows, before he nods. "I always wanted to do the Spider-Man kiss thing." 

"Yeah?" Lando breathes out, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Well, Mary Jane, now's your chance." 

Kissing Lando upside down is not how you originally planned on doing it, but it's sort of everything you wanted it to be and more. It's soft and sweet and patient, the kind of loving you need after everything you've gone through, that's just hot and heavy enough that when you hear the tap turn off in the bathroom, you're quick to pull away. 

"Can Spider-Man stay the night?" Milo asks, running up as Lando pulls down his mask again, and he lets out a soft sort of laugh that does something to your stomach. 

"I've got to get home! Maybe another time," Lando says as he rises from the couch, and Milo's bottom lip trembles. "Just think, you still have your guest of honour that needs to visit." 

"I don't want to see Mr. Norris," Milo mumbles, "I want you to stay." 

You watch Lando hesitate then, about pulling off his mask and revealing himself, but for the sake of the magic, he chooses not to, and you intervene to let the poor man go home. "There's lots of people Spider-Man has to go save," You say, crouching down to his level and brushing the hair from his face. "And you never know, he might come back soon. But for right now, let's thank him for coming." Milo pushes away from you to wrap around Lando's leg, and Lando kneels down to give him a proper hug. 

"Thanks," Milo mumbles into his shoulder. "You can come back whenever you want." 

"Thank you for having me!" Lando tries to say cheerfully. "But your mom is right, I have to get going back to New York! It's a long plane ride." 

"Say goodbye, Milo." Milo finally lets go, and helps walks Spider-Man to the door. 

"Bye, Spider-Man." He says, offering a small wave. 

"Bye, Milo. Hope you had a great birthday." 

-

Lando strips the moment he gets home. 

Fireproofs were hot, the race suits were hot, but the Spider-Man suit? 

Wrangling that many kids? 

With you kissing him? 

He's practically a sauna. And yet, as soon as he's done showering and gets changed, he'd back at your door, knocking and hoping it's not too late, and that Milo's already gone to bed. There's a shuffling noise behind the door before you open it, and he's discovered in the time it took him to shower and get back here, both you and Milo had changed into pyjamas, and were eating dinner at the table. "Mr. Norris!" Milo says, mouthful of pasta falling into his bowl. "You missed Spider-Man!" 

"What? Spider-Man came?" You let Lando in with a soft smile, and all he can think of is your lips on his, how you repeated his line back to him like it was nothing, how right it had felt. Kissing you right-side up probably felt better, but he was just riding off the high that you kissed him at all. He was pretty sure, all things considered, that you had to like him, as much as his brain tried to convince him otherwise. 

Having you actually kiss him and prove it? He was still struggling to wrap his mind around that. "And he brought me webs!" 

"Webs that are going to be tricky to clean up." You say, shooting a grin his way as you move to the stove. "Dinner?" 

"Actually, that sounds great." He had a single slice of cake after being the personal play-place for kids all afternoon. It might not be the most gentlemanly thing he's ever done, but he's not turning down a bowl. He finds his place at the table, and you take your place across from him, and for a moment, Lando thinks he can see into the future. "Did you get anything else?" 

"Bubbles, a book," Then, as if remembering it all over again, "He got me your Lego car! He said we can build it together." Then, as if remembering what Spider-Lando said, "You know Spider-Man? And you didn't tell me?" 

"It's top secret," Lando says around a mouthful of noodles, and you grin down at your own bowl. Dressed in an over-sized t-shirt and fuzzy pyjama pants, it gives a certainly warm glow that has Lando wondering what man could ever give this up. "But, I still haven't given you my gift." 

Milo perks up as your head shoots up to look at him, confusion furrowed between your brows. "Lando, that's not-" 

"I want you to come to a race." He couldn't really think of some big gift to get Milo, besides a full-paid trip to a race. Silverstone was soon, anyways. It would be fun, for Milo to see him race, for you to see him win. At least, Lando really hopes he'll win, because then that's one more reason to kiss you. "All expenses paid." 

"Lando!" You exclaim, fork clattering to your bowl. "No, no that's too much-" 

"Really?" Milo cuts you off, leaping out of his chair to throw himself at Lando. "Thank you thank you thank you-" 

"Okay, okay," Lando says, trying to calm both of you. "But you have to promise to be on your best behaviour for it, okay Milo?" 

Milo nods furiously against Lando's leg, and Lando scoops him up to hold him in his lap. "I promise. Can I drive your car?" 

"Wait another eleven-ish years for that one, mate." He continues eating his pasta as Milo drags his bowl over, content to finish his dinner sitting with Lando, and he catches you staring. You do that a lot, especially when Lando and Milo interact, and he doesn't blame you. He's a strange man playing with your kid, who wouldn't want to be checking in?

But there's always something more in the way you look at him, like you're not used to someone being there. He doesn't know the full story, and he doesn't need to, but he has a feeling that, if he pursues this, he's filling in a spot that never really was occupied before. 

"Thank you, Lando." You finally say, finishing up the last of your dinner. "That means a lot." 

"What else would I do for my favourite neighbour?" Milo, also now finished eating, yawns into his hands. "Bedtime, buddy?" 

"Come on," You say, pulling Milo from his lap. "Let's get you changed and ready for bed. Lando can read you a bedtime story." Then, back towards him, "Finish up your dinner first. No rush." 

And then, like it's the most normal thing in the world, Lando finishes the last of his food and gathers up all the dishes on the table and puts them in the sink, and finds you and Milo already on Milo's bed, a Spider-Man storybook laid out on Milo's Lap. Lando takes the other side of you, and as guest of honour, Milo explains, he gets to read tonight. If he had really been prepared for how tonight was going to go, Lando would've brought his own pyjamas, but instead, he just cozies further into his hoodie, and flips open to the first page. 

"This is Spider-Man," He begins as Milo crawls over you to splay over your lap. "He's a superhero."

"You're a superhero," You whisper quietly with a yawn, and Lando is pretty sure he turns as red as Spider-man's suit. 

"Spider-Man shoots webs," Lando continues, moving to the next page, and he decides to focus all his energy into the book, rather than you pressed up beside him. However, he finds that as he finishes up the last page, he might've let his attention wander to far. 

You're asleep beside him, head tilted back as you doze, and Milo is the same in your lap, tuckered out from the party. Honestly, if Lando could, he'd fall right asleep beside you, but that's for another time, another date, so instead, he presses a kiss to your temple, closes the book, and turns off the light. 

It's how he hopes he can spend every night for the rest of his life.

a/n: baby fever is in full swing. tell me he wouldn't be a fantastic dad.

[rottingpink]

closer

masterlist

cw: very non canon but oh well, clueless! reader, dubcon, manipulation, mini age gap (he's about 28-29 reader is early twenties), inspections, fingering and pussy touching, pussy slapping, praise, abuse of authority, doctor kink, name calling, powerplay, d/s, MDNI

synopsis: a doctor wants to take a closer look on his favorite little patient

his eyes sweep the examination room in anticipation. his white coat is freshly cleaned and ironed, stethoscope draped around his neck, a picture of professionalism. although, something in the way he moves and the tension in his shoulders betrays his anticipation for your arrival. he's been looking forward to this appointment with you all week.

you're sitting on the crinkling paper of the examination table, legs dangling over the side as he stands before you, arms crossed over one another. he regards you with an appraising gaze, eyes locked on the swell of your breasts under the thin hospital gown you're forced to wear. the fabric does little to hide how your nipples are hardening. you always get so flustered when he stares at you like this.

he takes a step forward, the soles of his shoes quiet against the tile. his gaze flickers to your face, then quickly back down, lingering just a second too long before he speaks again. "you nervous?" he asks. the corners of his mouth twitch, like he already knows the answer. "we're just doing our monthly checkups, sweetheart. nothing new."

"i know... i just always get so weird around you." you giggle anxiously, "dunno why." he hums, fingers brushing against your knee, the touch intended to be soothing and innocent but charged with intent. his hands lift the hem of your gown, exposing your thighs inch by inch.

the silence in the room is only broken by your uneven breathing and the soft creak of the bed anytime you squirm in your seat. his fingers skim your flesh, then travel upwards to make contact with the plush skin of your inner thighs. you twitch, thighs clamping closed around his big hand, but all he does is scoff quietly. "legs open. can't do my job if you keep hiding from me."

he presses a little deeper into the space between your thighs, warm palm firm against your skin. his thumb traces a slow, coaxing shape on your inner thigh. your fingers start curling around the edge of the paper sheet beneath you, getting flustered from the teasing.

"you're always squirming," he muses gently, voice laced with mock concern. he leans in slightly to inspect you closer, his face so close you can see the faint pink in his cheeks and the subtle movement of his throat when he swallows. "why's that, pretty baby? you all hot for me?"

he spreads your legs wider, eyes darkening at the soft, unmistakable damp spot on the crotch area of your pretty lacy panties. he's slow and gentle with easing you out of them, hooking his fingers under the waistband.

he tugs your panties down to your ankles, pretending to be a regular, concerned doctor ensuring his patient has no internal complications, and to do that, he had to check on your puffy little pussy for himself. his thumb brushes against your clit, sending a shiver through your body.

he watches your reaction intently, a small smirk playing on his lips while his free hand moves to your breast, squeezing gently before rolling your nipple between his fingers. "doing so good for me," he coos. "need t'check here to see if your responses are normal,"

the dual stimulation has your hands clenching into little fists, warmth spreading through your body and pooling at your core as a soft moan leaves your lips. he chuckles quietly. his fingers slip inside you, curling as he pumps them in and out. he goes slow so he can ensure the softest, sweetest parts inside you get stimulation, thick fingers pressing down firmly deep inside you.

the wet squelch of your arousal fills the air once he's eased two of his thick fingers into your sopping little hole, his thumb flicking your clit while his other hand squeezes and toys with your soft tits and hard nipples. "oh!" you nearly buck off the table. "d-doctorrmngh! feels funny-!"

you're whining and squirming, too on edge to notice that he's started lowering himself. he gets down to his knees and puts his face parallel to your dripping pussy, his fingers still lodged inside you. he drags them out, using his two sopping fingers to spread your pussy lips so your hole is completely visible to him.

"what are you doing?" you squeak, trying to shut your legs out of instinct, but that's out of the question. he forces your legs wider and slaps your puffy pussy lips a few times, making you mewl and jolt upwards. "doc!"

"your pussy's all soft and delicate right now," he says, fingers spreading your pussy while he leans in to press a kiss on your thigh. he uses his free hand to spread your legs wider. "needs special attention, can't have you shutting your legs so it doesn't get any." his fingers brush against your clit, a fleeting touch that makes you jolt and moan loudly.

his eyes darken as he takes in the sight before him, fingers tracing the sensitive folds with exaggerated care. "you need to play with yourself more, sweetie," he declares, his voice firm even as you flinch a little from pleasure, legs shaking and head all floaty. "regular stimulation to keep your cunt fresh and healthy."

his thumb pushes down your clit, rubbing in slow, firm little circles while his fingers continue their rhythm and pump in and out of you. he occasionally presses down on your gummy little sweet spot to catch you off guard and draw filthy moans from you. "o-okay, i'll... ill touch myself more! haaa, w-wait... it's too much, you cant keep pressing there," you babble out through choked moans, your pussy so soaked that your arousal leaks down your thighs and all over him.

your hole is oversensitive and soft from so much all at once. "that's it," he coos, his voice low and oddly steady for how worked up he looks, cock straining against the fabric of his slacks. he looks like he's holding himself back from fucking you on the table.

his fingers slow, then go still buried deep inside you, just resting there like a threat. "so responsive today. have you been thinking about this too?" he whispers, eyes flicking between your parted lips and the dazed look in your eyes. He presses a hot open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh, getting dangerously close to your core.

your chest rises and falls quickly beneath the thin hospital gown. "mmm.. mhm, i thought about it."

he's so pleased you told the truth. "mm, an honest little girl, aren't you?" he says softly. "and such a pretty pussy," his fingers go back to work inside you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaked cunt, spreading your juices around your most sensitive spots. he leans in close, inhaling the heady scent of your pussy deeply and groaning lowly in response. "wait, don't stop, don't stop, please," you mewl, tears springing at your waterline.

without warning, he extends his tongue, dragging it slowly along your glistening slit, from your tight hole to your throbbing, swollen clit. he groans into a mouthful of your pussy, eyes drooping and hazy as he mouths at your hole, sucking your plump pussy into your mouth while he breathes hotly onto your flesh.

he seals his lips around your aching clit, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive bud before kissing down your pussy, making his way to your swollen lips and leaky hole.

he chuckles at the sound of your loud keening and the way your legs have clamped shut around his head, moaning at your sweet taste while his tongue and mouth lap and suck greedily at your core.

as he feasts on your pussy, he drives two thick fingers deep into your tight heat, thrusting them into you in a steady, relentless rhythm. he can feel your velvety walls gripping his digits, trying in vain to pull him deeper as his fingers plunge mercilessly into your core.

your body tenses as your climax builds rapidly. in the meantime, he doubles his efforts, tongue flicking faster and fingers plunging harder, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. he plunges his fingers knuckle-deep into your soaked cunt, curling and scissoring them roughly as he suckles harder. your thighs tremble and quake around his head as he brings you to the brink, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. "ah, ahh! I'm fuck, I'm cumming, o'm-!"

he sends you past your limits, your pussy clamping down around his plunging digits like a silken vise. your juices gushes out around his hand as you cum with a scream of pure rapture, your body convulsing with the force of your release.

his eyes flick up to watch your face as he pushes you over the edge. he wants to see the moment of ecstasy, to witness the pleasure he's giving you. his fingers pump harder, faster, driving into you with a fierce intensity as he finger fucks you through your orgasm.

Yyur legs are still trembling, weak and spread open across the sheets, your breath catching in soft little gasps as he finally pulls back. his mouth glistens, and he doesn’t even try to hide the way he licks his bottom lip slow, savoring it and tasting you on his tongue.

he plants one lazy kiss to your inner thigh, then another a little higher, thumb stroking slow circles into your hip to calm you down, and naturally, it does. you tug on his white coat so he's on your level again, and he indulges you, standing over you while you put your arms around his neck and pull him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue.

[kukinkrim]

Hi, I’d like to request Saga Boys and Manager!Reader where they first test their “Your Idol” song on them. I can imagine each of them singing a verse and slowly start to hypnotize Reader. You’re free to add or change anything!

i'll be your idol.

saja boys x manager!fem!reader

they were planning something. you just couldn't tell what it was.

the ride to the studio was unusually quiet—save for the occasional whispering and not-so-subtle shoving in the backseat. you couldn’t make out what they were talking about (thankfully), since you were the one driving and the only thing visible in the rearview mirror was jinu’s nervous smile. you narrowed your eyes at it once or twice, but he just kept flashing that polite grin like he was definitely not part of a secret scheme involving ancient soul-sucking scheme or whatever.

you didn’t know that, of course.

to you, they were just your boys. a little weird. a little chaotic. okay, maybe a lot chaotic. but they eere your boys.

you drove them to the studio after they insisted they had a song and they absolutely need to record it now—as per abby's insistence. despite running on only two hours of sleep om the ass crack of down, with omly a cup of coffee to keep you awake on the road, you still were supportive enough to give them what they want.

you were also kind of excited to hear their new song. you figured that meant inspiration struck, and who were you to stop musical genius? you've seen jinu work hard on it for days. even skipping meals sometimes or just staring off into a distance, lost in thought as he erased and erased and erased on his notepad.

the studio lights were dimmed enough so that only those five inside the recording room were shining. afterall, it was still too early. you'd rather not have a migraine today.

"alright, get ready." you muttered into the mic, voice scratchy with sleep. you leaned back in your chair, sipping what was left of your now-cold coffee.

you pressed play, and the track started.

Pray for me now (Dies irae) Pray for me now (Illa) Pray for me now (Vos solve in)

the moment the first note drifted through the studio speakers, something shifted in the air.

Pray for me now (Favilla) Pray for me now (Maledictus) Pray for me now (Erus)

you couldn’t quite place it. it wasn’t the usual jolt of excitement you felt when a new song started; not the thrill of hearing a beat drop or the rush of a killer melody line. this was different. it felt heavy, like something invisible had wrapped itself around your shoulders and gently pulled you down into your seat.

Pray for me now (In flamas) Pray for me now (Eternum)

you blinked slowly, your eyes dropping as it drifts down to your empty cup of coffee.

just tired, you thought. running on fumes and one sad, cold cup of gas station coffee. it's just fatigue.

that’s what you told yourself.

but as they began to sing, you started to feel it. that eerie, sinking warmth that settled behind your eyes. your limbs felt distant, like you were underwater. the chair beneath you no longer felt solid. the room felt like it wad spinning or something like it was melting at the edges—you don't actually know anymore.

you feel like you're about to faint any second.

their voices filled the space, but not in the way music normally did. it echoes. you're not even sure it's comimg from the speakers anymore. it was like something crawling under your skin and stroking along your spine. or something has seeped into your lungs with every breath you took.

you told yourself to sit up. to focus.

but you couldn’t.

your muscles were too relaxed, too heavy. even the act of thinking was starting to slip away from you. it was as if your brain was being lulled to sleep by warm hands and lullabies when their sonf is anything but that. it was loud, like they were chanting to a cult. a far cry from their debut song that took a much more lighthearted path than... whatever this was.

through the glass, they were watching you.

all five of them.

your vision blurred at the edges, like a camera struggling to focus. you were aware of your own breath slowing, your body swaying slightly as your head tilted forward. just a moment. just a second. just a quick nap—

a sharp jolt ran through your chest.

your heart thumped hard, once, like it knew you weren’t supposed to fall asleep.

you sat up with a gasp, sucking in air like you’d been drowning. and whatever illusion you were in shattered.

your reaction gained the attention of the boys who stood behind the glass, watching you as you ran a hand through your hair and swiped your face.

romance leaned into the mic, “whoa. you okay, manager-nim?”

you blinked furiously, trying to reorient yourself. your mouth was dry. your hands were trembling just slightly, like they’d been somewhere cold and were only now returning to your body.

you nodded stiffly. “yeah. yeah, i'm fine. just... tired.”

"well, we did wake you up so early. sorry about that," abby apologizes, bowing respectfully with a sheepish grin. it didn't seem like he meant the apology though.

baby hummed, "what do you think about the song?"

you swallowed hard and looked down at your empty cup. "great," you replied with a furrowed eyebrow. maybe, all you need it sleep. "it was great. good job, boys."

yeah, just sleep.

[ao3commentoftheday]

In your opinion, how does one differentiate between OOC behavior and a natural shift in a character's demeanor/attitude/choices when written in a fanfic context that is not identical to the canon in question?

When it comes to the age-old question of "he wouldn't fucking say that" I land firmly in the camp of "what would it take to MAKE him say that?"

Basically, anything can be in character if you tie it back to how you got there from canon.

A normally shy, dorky, stumbly person is a dommy sex beast in the sack? Show me how they control themselves in a professional setting and how letting "the beast" free is a release for them. Or show me how guilty they feel over their sexual preferences and how they're overcompensating outside of the bedroom to make up for it. Or maybe they're just super into RPGs and they realized that they can use their improv skills to get their partner off and their partner likes exploring the subby side of the spectrum.

Sometimes a difference in demeanor/attitude/choices is doable in a canon universe, but sometimes it's not. Someone who has a lot of repressed trauma issues and zero ability to cope with them is not going to use therapy speak until and unless they've been to therapy. So if you want to write them doing that, then put them in an AU where they've been to therapy. The issue isn't them talking like that, it's that they're talking that way with possible reason in their history for them to have access to that kind of language or thought process.

For me, a character will feel out of character if the change from canon doesn't fit into canon, but the author is still trying to force it to. A lot of those issues go away when the author can embrace the idea of an alternate universe, just a little to the left of the canon one, where something else happened that makes that characterization make perfect sense.

That's how I see things anyway. But let's see what everyone else thinks.

[shortnspidey]

BUSY WOMAN

Bucky Barnes X Fem!Stark!Reader || WC: 5.3K

SUMMARY: After successfully defeating the Flag Smashers, Bucky finds himself alongside Sam and his family at a traditional Louisiana cookout. For once everything’s peaceful, the only thing missing is you.

WARNINGS: SO much fluff, domestic Bucky, Falcon and the Winter Soldier scenes used, talks of Bucky's past, flirty banter, Sam being a little shit

A/N: Based on my Collateral Hearts series but can be read as a standalone! I will never forgive Marvel for deleting this scene from TFATWS series! Which is why I decided to write about it because writing Happy!Bucky is my absolute favorite version of Bucky to write! The Russo Brothers better not touch him in Doomsday! Hope y’all enjoy!! <3

➩ main masterlist

➩ series masterlist

➩ bucky barnes masterlist

Despite the persistent hum of anxiety that clung to him like a second skin, Bucky was surprised to find that people were… actually nice. Genuinely nice. It wasn’t forced politeness or the kind of nervous courtesy he’d grown used to, this was warmth. Real, easy warmth that settled in the air like the scent of barbecue smoke curling lazily through the Louisiana breeze.

For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t seen as the Winter Soldier or even as a man with a complicated past. Here, on the dock behind Sam’s family home, surrounded by the chatter of neighbors and the clatter of dishes and laughter, Bucky was just a normal guy. The dock creaked gently beneath his boots as he stepped onto the worn planks, the breeze from the bay tousling his hair and carrying the scent of charcoal and sweet corn.

He spotted the boys first. “What took you so long!” Cass exclaimed, practically leaping off the lower steps as he barreled up the dock. His arms flailed upward in dramatic protest, like he’d been waiting hours instead of minutes. Just behind him, AJ surged forward with his signature seriousness, brows scrunched together like a tiny soldier on a mission. “Where’s Aunt Y/N?” Bucky’s grin unfolded without effort, soft and lopsided, as familiar warmth bloomed in his chest.

He slowed his steps to let them catch up, one hand lifting in surrender. “Hey, hold on,” He replied with exaggerated innocence, balancing a chocolate sheet cake while motioning toward the buffet table stacked with desserts. “I had to get some cake first. Priorities.” The boys burst into giggles, Cass bumping his hip into Bucky’s leg while AJ leaned in close, trying to get a glimpse of what kind of cake he’d chosen. But then, your name caught his ears.

The moment AJ’s words drifted into the humid air, the smile on Bucky’s face shifted, just slightly. Most wouldn’t notice. Not in a place so loud with joy and music and motion. But the change was there. A subtle tension that passed through his shoulders. A flicker in his eyes like he’d been caught off guard. “She wished she could make it,” He murmured, voice dipping into something softer, more sincere. “She was supposed to fly in last night, but got caught up at work.”

You’d been juggling more than usual lately, helping Kate Bishop get her business off the ground had turned into more than a part-time favor. Long nights, unexpected travel, meetings stacked to the ceiling. He admired your commitment, but it didn’t make missing you any easier. “Where is everybody?” Bucky stepped up to the long fold-out table covered in mismatched plastic containers and tinfoil-covered trays, setting the cake down carefully among the already overflowing dessert options.

No sooner had he done so than a small herd of kids swarmed the table, their eyes lighting up like they’d just struck gold. Sticky fingers reached out before a warning shot came from the other side of the yard. “Alright, alright, that’s enough!” Sam’s voice cut through the chatter, authoritative but unmistakably amused as he made his way over. “Real food first,” He continued, shooting a mock glare toward the mob of sugar-hungry kids.

A chorus of groans followed, along with one dramatic “aww man!” that drew a few laughs from nearby parents. Sam turned his attention to Bucky with a smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth. “Keep messin’ around, and I’ll put you on that Winter Soldier diet. Rats and frozen protein pills and shit.” Bucky snorted, rolling his eyes as the memory of Siberian rations flashed briefly in his head. Chuckling, he stepped in for one of those shoulder-clasping, one-armed hugs.

Sam in return clapped him on the back. The teasing look in his eyes remained, though it was tempered now by something softer. Pride, maybe. Or just the comfort of knowing Bucky had shown up, again. “How’s Sarah?” Bucky asked, the corner of his mouth twitching with a hint of mischief. “She ask about me?” Sam froze narrowing his eyes at him across the table. His mouth twisted with disbelief, eyebrows rising slowly in that way he always did when he was about two seconds from smacking someone upside the head.

“There you go with that sense of humor again,” He muttered, waving the tongs like a warning. “Still not funny.” His jaw tightened just a little before he added, with that slow, deliberate drawl that only showed up when he was really laying it on, “Besides, what would your lady think if she heard you askin’ about my sister?” Bucky’s eyes rolled so hard it was a miracle they didn’t get stuck. He pushed off the table and took a few lazy steps forward, smirking. “Relax, Y/N knows it’s a joke,” He countered, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans.

“She knows I only have eyes for her.” Sam scoffed under his breath, barely masking the grin that threatened to take over his face. “Shut up and get your chicken.” He muttered with a shake of his head, shoulders still bouncing from the effort of not laughing. As both men piled food onto their plates, charred chicken, buttered corn, collard greens that had clearly been made with love, they strolled the short stretch toward a worn wooden picnic bench tucked beneath a string of sun-faded lantern lights.

AJ and Cass were already seated there, happily devouring their food with the enthusiasm only kids could manage, sauce streaking their cheeks and fingers. “What are y’all laughing about?” Came Sarah’s voice from just behind them, light with amusement. She lowered her plate onto the bench across from Bucky before easing down beside AJ, smoothing the back of his curls instinctively with one hand. Sam jerked a thumb toward Bucky without looking up.

“Uncle Winter Soldier over here trying to crack a joke,” He huffed, feigning exhaustion. “I told him it wasn’t funny.” Bucky lifted both brows with theatrical innocence, raising his beer in a lazy salute before taking a long sip. He didn’t even bother defending himself, just leaned back on the bench with that smirk that always got him in trouble. Sarah side-eyed him, but there was warmth behind it. “Mmmhmm.” Her gaze lingered a beat too long, brow lifting as she studied him closer. “Where’s your other half?”

Bucky hesitated just long enough to confirm what she already suspected. His posture shifted, a subtle deflation in his shoulders as he exhaled slowly. “Busy,” He sighed, his voice quieter now. “She’s in London. Helping her friend Kate meet with potential investors for Bishop Security.” He didn’t elaborate further, but his tone held the weight of more than just distance. It wasn’t the kind of answer that begged pity, it was matter-of-fact, and yet, it echoed of longing.

His eyes dropped to the plate in front of him, untouched. “Man was pouty the whole mission,” Sam threw in as he plopped onto the bench beside him, his grin practically shining with satisfaction. “Wouldn’t shut up about how her voice ‘sounds different on the phone.’” Bucky cut him a look out of the corner of his eye but didn’t fight it, because it was true. Every spare moment on that mission, his mind drifted to you. The sound of your laugh and the way you pulled him back to himself with nothing more than a quiet look.

It was hard being in a different country. Harder still to be surrounded by people who made him feel at home when the one person who was home to him was an ocean away. “Can Aunt Y/N come next time?” AJ asked, nudging Sarah. “I hope so, baby.” Sarah replied, her tone gentle as she reached for her sweet tea. “She keeps him in line better than we do.” That earned a rare, genuine laugh from Bucky, a soft, unguarded thing that caught even him by surprise.

The table buzzed with the kind of light-hearted energy only a summer evening could bring, kids cracking jokes between bites, Sarah chuckling softly while she dabbed barbecue sauce off Cass’s chin. And Bucky, for a moment, let the noise and the warmth and the food pull him out of his head. Yet underneath it all, beneath the beer, the banter, he still felt the space where you should’ve been. Bucky had just settled into a rare moment of stillness, his plate finally half-empty, fingers idly rolling a beer bottle between his palms as the sun began its slow descent beyond the treeline.

He’d tuned most of it out by now, lost in thought, mind drifting across an ocean, wondering what time it was in London, if you were thinking about him too. He barely noticed the soft footsteps behind him. Until— “Guess who?” The world stopped. A pair of hands slipped gently over his eyes, warm and familiar, fingers curling just enough for him to catch the faintest scent of your perfume, vanilla sandalwood and white jasmine. His heart slammed into his ribs as a chill zipped down his spine despite the southern heat.

Your voice.

Sing-song, teasing, and impossibly close to his ear. For the briefest moment, he was afraid to move, afraid it was in his head, some wishful hallucination conjured up by heat and homesickness. But your touch was real. The pads of your thumbs rested lightly at his temples, anchoring him in the moment. “Doll?” He breathed, voice hoarse and disbelieving as he reached up slowly, fingers brushing over your wrists. “W–What are you doing here?” His hands turned, grasping yours like he needed the proof.

You didn’t answer right away, you just leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, your smile curving against his scalp. “Kate kicked me out,” You finally whispered near his ear, laughter dancing in your words. “Told me if I kept staring at my phone waiting for your texts, I’d scare off the investors.” Bucky stood too fast, the bench scraping back beneath him. He turned to face you, still holding your hands like they might vanish if he let go. And there you were, just as he remembered, yet somehow even better up close.

Your hair was windblown from the flight, eyes tired but shining, and the corners of your mouth pulled into that familiar, soft smile meant only for him. “You really came all this way?” His voice barely carried over the noise behind him. His thumb brushed your knuckles in a slow, reverent glide. “For you?” Your eyes sparkled, teasing but true. “Always.” The grin that broke across Bucky’s face was wide, boyish, and completely unguarded.

He stepped into you, arms slipping around your waist as your hands slid up his chest, and pulled you into the kind of hug that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind that spoke of late-night phone calls, sleepless weeks apart, and the quiet ache of missing someone so deeply it hollowed you out. Then, without hesitation, he dipped his head and pressed his mouth to yours. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, it was deliberate. Firm. A kiss that said I missed you, I needed this, and I’m not letting go all in one breath.

His lips moved against yours with gentle pressure, slow but certain, like he was reacquainting himself with something sacred. There were kids nearby, and he remembered that, barely. So he kept it mild, even if everything in him screamed to deepen it. Instead, he let the moment linger just long enough to leave you breathless before pulling back, forehead resting against yours. Behind you both, AJ and Cass let out exaggerated groans, covering their faces with their hands.

“Ewwww!” Cass cried out, giggling. “Get a room!” Sarah chuckled from her spot on the bench, shaking her head. “Y’all forget there are children present?” Sam didn’t even try to hide the smirk plastered across his face. Sam didn’t even try to hide the smirk plastered across his face. “Look at him. Back to grinning like an idiot.” Bucky didn’t care. His arms stayed around you, your fingers curled into the fabric of his t-shirt like you weren’t planning on letting go either. He looked down at you with that rare, quiet smile, the one that only ever came out when you were near.

“Quit hogging her, Barnes.” The moment shattered, good-naturedly, of course, at the sound of Sam’s voice cutting through the air like a record scratch. His arms stretched out with exaggerated flair, a grin tugging at his lips. “Come here and give me some sugar.” Bucky stiffened beside you, his arm tightening just slightly around your waist. He didn’t even try to hide the warning in his voice. “Sam.” It was almost a growl, low and guttural, the kind that might’ve been intimidating coming from anyone else.

But Sam just snorted, completely unfazed, like he'd been poking this particular bear for years and was now immune to the teeth. “He’s only kidding, my love.” You murmured softly, brushing your fingers over Bucky’s chest in a calming gesture before slipping from his arms. You gave him one last, lingering look before rounding the table, where Sam waited with mock impatience, arms still wide. You embraced him with a warm laugh, the kind of sibling-like affection that was honest and effortless.

Sam gave you a gentle squeeze, lifting you off your feet for half a second before setting you back down. You continued down the line, exchanging hugs with Sarah, who squeezed you extra tight, then AJ, who nearly dropped his fork in excitement, and Cass, who practically launched himself into your arms. “Jeez, Buck,” Sam called over your shoulder, dramatically fanning himself. “Possessive much?” Bucky folded his arms and leaned back against the picnic table, jaw tight, lips twitching somewhere between a scowl and a pout. It didn’t take a genius to put it all together. His gaze narrowed across the table. “You called her.”

It wasn’t a question. It was an accusation wrapped in disbelief, aimed squarely at Sam, whose expression remained irritatingly smug. A slow, indifferent shrug lifted his shoulders. “I was tired of seeing you all mopey. You’re depressing, man.” You returned to Bucky’s side, arms slipping around his waist, tucking yourself into his side. “Technically,” You interjected smoothly. “It was Joaquin.” That drew a raised eyebrow from Bucky, whose frown deepened as he looked down at you. You continued, barely suppressing a grin.

“He called to check in, Kate overheard me on the phone, put two and two together, rolled her eyes, called us both whipped, and told me I should be with you.” Bucky blinked. “She said that?” You immediately nodded. “She also said if I didn’t go, she’d book me a flight herself and pack my suitcase.” You laughed, shaking your head. “She’s flying back into New York tonight. Told me she doesn’t need me anymore, that I was too lovesick to be of any use.” Sam beamed, clearly proud of the orchestrated ambush. “Takes a village.” Bucky looked between you and Sam, then back down to where your body was curled around him, grounding him.

His chest rose and fell with something like reluctant gratitude, though the scowl hadn’t completely left his face. “I can’t believe you teamed up with them.” He muttered, eyes narrowing at Sam and then over your shoulder, as if Kate might appear just to taunt him. You leaned in close, standing on your toes, whispering just enough for only him to hear. “You looked like you needed me.” His features softened immediately. The tension bled out of his shoulders, and the usual storm in his eyes settled to something quieter, steadier.

He didn’t say anything right away. Just rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours. “Always need you.” He admitted lowly, so only you could hear. But you felt it. Not just the words, but the weight behind them. The truth of it. Your breath caught, a subtle hitch in your chest as your hands curled tighter into the front of his shirt. Those three words meant more coming from Bucky than they ever could from anyone else. Because for so long, he didn’t let himself need anyone. Needing people meant vulnerability. Meant risk. Meant cracks in armor he’d spent decades reinforcing.

He used to flinch at the idea of depending on someone, used to keep his distance, even when everything in him screamed for connection. He didn’t trust himself, let alone anyone else. You remembered the early days, when he would stay quiet instead of asking for help, when he’d disappear into himself instead of reaching for your hand. And now? Now he said it without hesitation. Your chest tightened, heart blooming with something soft and aching and full.

You blinked quickly, suddenly overwhelmed by the gentle gravity of the man in front of you, how far he’d come, and how willingly he now let himself be held, seen, loved. Needed. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding and tilted your head just slightly, letting your lips graze his cheek as your hand came up to cradle the side of his face. His stubble was rough against your palm, his skin warm and grounding. Without much reluctance, you tugged him gently down onto the bench beside you. His body moved easily with yours, falling into that familiar gravity that always pulled him closer.

As he sat, his right hand settled on your thigh without a second thought, fingers splaying over the denim of your jeans, thumb brushing soft, absent-minded strokes against your skin like it was second nature. Like he’d been waiting weeks just to feel you within reach again. Sarah passed you a plate stacked with grilled chicken, slaw, and sweet potato fries, and you accepted it with a grateful smile. Bucky, on the other hand, just looked at you. His elbow rested lazily on the table, beer in hand, but his attention was fixed, eyes tracing every detail of your face like he was memorizing it all over again.

The crease near your eye when you smiled at something Sarah said. The way your shoulders swayed slightly when you laughed. The soft shine on your cheek from the sun still hanging low in the sky. It wasn’t that he hadn’t seen you on video calls or in pictures, but none of it compared to you in front of him. “Sadly,” You began, voice light but apologetic as you looked toward AJ and Cass. “I didn’t bring any new tech prototypes for you guys to try out.” Twin pouts formed instantly. AJ actually slumped in his seat. The reaction tugged your own smile downward, just for a beat, before you brightened again. “But,” You continued with playful emphasis.

“My amazing friend Kate let me bring some prototype bows and arrows she’s been working on, customized for training.” Cass practically bounced in his seat, mouth open in awe, while AJ’s jaw dropped mid-chew. “After you eat.” Sarah interrupted, lifting an eyebrow without even looking up from her food. “Yes, ma’am.” AJ mumbled, immediately shoveling another forkful into his mouth like finishing faster might make the bows appear sooner. “You’re too good to them, Y/N.” Sarah reached across the table and gave your hand a gentle squeeze, gratitude warm in her gaze. Bucky smirked beside you, proud but silent.

He gave your thigh a small squeeze under the table, like a wordless told you so. “Never let her go, Buck.” Sam piped in from a few seats away, smirking over the rim of his beer like he was stirring the pot just for sport. Bucky’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing in a slow, deliberate glare that only made Sam grin wider. It was a familiar exchange, one they had down to a science by now. But underneath the surface-level teasing, Sam’s words weren’t wrong. Not even a little. Of course Bucky would never admit it out loud, not here, not ever, but it wasn’t just about not letting you go. He’d already decided.

The ring was hidden, poorly, he’d admit, in the bottom drawer of his bedside table beneath a stack of well-worn notebooks. He really needed to find a better hiding place. Every time he opened that drawer for anything, his heart raced like you’d somehow know. But watching you now, in the middle of this warm, buzzing dock, sharing food and laughter and your whole heart with his found family, he knew there was no version of his life that made sense without you in it.

You glanced over and caught him staring again, head tilted with quiet curiosity. His gaze softened when your eyes met his. “What?” You asked softly, placing your hand on top of his where it still lay warm and protective on your thigh. He didn’t answer, just leaned in, lips brushing your temple with a touch that sent a wave of warmth rippling through your chest. “Nothing.” You opened your mouth to push just a little further, maybe tease something out of him, but you didn’t get the chance.

A sudden blur of motion and squeaking sneakers announced the arrival of at least four kids from different directions, their eyes wide and sparkling with mischief and excitement. “Can you lift us with your arm?” One of them burst out, practically vibrating in place. Bucky blinked, clearly caught off guard, before his entire expression melted into something lighter. Playful. “Absolutely!” He grinned. You barely had time to catch your breath before he leaned over and planted one last kiss on your cheek, quick, warm, but enough to make your skin tingle.

Then came the part that should not have been as attractive as it was. He shrugged off his leather jacket with one smooth motion, revealing the black and gold vibranium arm beneath. It caught the late afternoon light in flashes of matte steel and gilded seams, and for just a second, you forgot how to chew. He caught you staring, of course he did. A smirk tugged at his mouth, and he winked as if to say Yeah, I noticed. And then he was swept away by the flurry of children, who immediately latched onto his legs and arms.

He laughed, actually laughed, as he let two kids hang from his arm while a third climbed onto his back, their delighted giggles echoing over the dock like music. You leaned back in your seat, heart brimming. “He’s great with the boys.” Sarah commented from across the table, watching the scene unfold with a fond smile. You hummed in agreement, eyes still locked on the chaos. “You should see him with my sister,” You added, chuckling. “Kid worships him. Bucky’s around and suddenly I’m second choice.” Sarah shook her head with a warm laugh.

“I mean, just look at him.” And you did. Bucky stood there like he was meant to belong in this world, not the battlefield, not the shadowy edges of missions or haunted memories, but here. On a sun-warmed dock, holding two giggling kids with ease, while another attempted to loop a rope around his shoulder like he was some kind of human jungle gym. His metal arm, once an emblem of pain, of programming, of war, was now a source of wonder. These kids didn’t see it as a weapon. There was no fear in their eyes, just joy. It meant everything to him.

You could see it in the way his eyes softened every time one of them shouted his name. In the way he never flinched when little hands clung to him without hesitation. In the quiet smile he wore even when he thought no one was looking. Because for the first time in a long time, Bucky Barnes wasn’t being seen for what he had done. He was being seen for who he was. And watching that unfold… watching him be loved so freely, so innocently, made your chest ache in the best way. Eventually, the sun began to dip lower behind the trees, bleeding gold and rose into the marshy sky. You caught Bucky’s gaze from across the dock.

He was still surrounded by kids, AJ now trying to convince him to swing both him and Cass at once despite Sarah's protests. And Bucky, he didn’t look annoyed or burdened. He just looked happy. But then he glanced back at you, and his whole face changed. The light in his eyes shifted from playful to soft, like you’d pulled something to the surface that only existed for you. His smile was different now, smaller, secretive. He tilted his head just slightly toward the edge of the dock. You got the message loud and clear. Without a word, you stood, giving Sarah’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before weaving your way past the picnic table.

As you neared him, Bucky made a grand show of letting the kids “defeat” him, collapsing dramatically to the dock boards as they climbed over him victoriously. He chuckled as they ran off cheering, and when he pushed himself back up, you were already beside him, hand outstretched. He immediately took your hand, pulling you away from prying eyes, managing to slip away unnoticed, well, mostly. Sam clocked you from across the yard and lifted his beer in a knowing toast. Bucky flipped him off without looking back. You wandered down to the far end of the dock, where the lanterns didn’t quite reach and the water lapped lazily against the wood.

A few small fishing boats bobbed gently in the distance. The air was cooler here, tinged with the scent of salt and damp pine. You stopped beneath a crooked lamppost that hadn’t worked in years, and turned to face him. “You okay, tough guy?” You asked softly, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek as the wind picked up. He exhaled slowly, eyes roaming your face like he still couldn’t believe you were real. “Better now.” You glanced down at your arms, goosebumps already forming, and without missing a beat, Bucky unhooked his jacket from where it was still slung over his arm.

He held it open silently and you wordlessly slipped into it. The sleeves swallowed your hands, the shoulders a bit too wide, but the warmth was immediate, soft on the inside, worn in all the right places, and it smelled just like him. Like leather, cedar soap and something distinctly Bucky. When you glanced up at him, he was staring. Not just admiring, staring. Like he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life. “You’re looking at me like you just short-circuited.” You teased gently, tugging the collar higher as the wind tugged at your hair.

He blinked slowly, dazed. “I’m looking at you like I’m in love with you.” He corrected without hesitation. And just like that, your heart stuttered in your chest. Because he meant it. The way his voice softened when he said it, the way his vibranium hand hovered near your arm like he wasn’t sure he deserved to touch you, even now. He had walls, yes. He had ghosts and scars and years of self-doubt tattooed into the deepest parts of him, but when he looked at you, all of it quieted. “Bucky…” His hand reached up, gently brushing your hair back behind your ear.

Then his thumb skimmed across your cheekbone like he was grounding himself with each soft touch. “I didn’t know I could have this,” He whispered, barely audible above the gentle creaking of the dock beneath you. “Peace. You. All of it. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but…” His voice trailed off. “You wear my jacket like it’s always been yours. Like I've always been yours.” You slid your arms around his waist, resting your head against his chest. His arms folded around you without hesitation, holding you like he’d been missing this exact feeling since the moment you left to London.

“You don’t have to deserve it,” You murmured against his shirt. “You just have to let yourself have it.” Bucky rested his chin on top of your head, his arms squeezing you tighter. For a long moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there, wrapped in him, wrapped in each other, wrapped in the quiet kind of love that didn’t need grand gestures or fireworks to mean everything. The world around you faded into a warm, golden blur, the kind of stillness that felt sacred, like time itself had paused just for you.

You shifted slightly in his arms, your gaze lifting to meet his, eyes tracing every line of his face with quiet reverence. His expression was so open, so unguarded. You could feel the words unsaid lingering between you like a held breath. So you spoke first. “For the record,” You whispered, your voice barely more than air. “I love you too, Bucky.” His breath hitched. Just the smallest inhale, but you felt it, felt the way his heart stuttered beneath your hand like it was trying to memorize every syllable.

His eyes shone with something deep and overwhelming, something that rooted him there with you more firmly than anything else ever had. God, he'd never get tired of hearing you say that. He didn’t speak, he didn’t have to. The way his forehead dropped gently against yours, the way he held you like you were the one keeping him standing, that said enough. Just as your lips inched closer to his, your breath mixing with his in that quiet, suspended hush of a moment about to bloom into something more— “Aunt Y/N!”

The voice rang out across the dock like a pebble tossed into a still lake, shattering the silence with the unfiltered energy only a kid could bring. “Aunt Y/N! Can you show us how to use the bow and arrows? Mom said we can play now!” You both turned just in time to see AJ barreling down the dock with Cass close behind, arms pumping, eyes gleaming with anticipation. They skidded to a stop like a pair of excited puppies, practically vibrating at the thought of target practice. Bucky let out a long, exaggerated sigh and dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his whole body slumping against you.

His breath was warm through the fabric of his jacket now draped around your shoulders. “Duty calls.” You chuckled, fingers lifting to comb gently through the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. He hummed at the touch, eyes still closed like he was committing this moment to memory, your scent, your voice, your warmth. You tilted his head up with one finger beneath his chin, your eyes full of quiet affection. And then you kissed him. Just a soft, slow press of your lips to his, a kiss not meant to linger or tempt, but to ground. You pulled back just enough to whisper. “I bet I can hit a bullseye before you, Barnes.”

His eyebrows arched with that crooked smirk you knew too well, equal parts challenge and flirtation.“Oh, you’re on, Stark.” You mirrored his smirk, reaching down and took his hand in yours as you turned back toward the boys, fingers lacing with his. As the two of you walked hand-in-hand down the dock, the world felt whole again. Behind you, the last light of the sun dipped into the horizon, casting everything in golden amber. Ahead of you, AJ and Cass were already bickering over who got the blue arrow first.

Bucky looked at you again, not just with affection, but with certainty. You, in his jacket. You, laughing. You, promising him a future even when he didn’t think he could have one. And maybe, just maybe, later tonight, when the kids were tucked in, when the laughter died down, and when you were curled up beside him, he’d finally find the courage to tell you about the little velvet box hidden at the bottom of his drawer. But for now? He kissed the back of your hand, and challenged you to a rematch before the first arrow was even notched.

Thanks for reading! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! Feeling generous? Leave a tip!

[dualityvn]

Date 5 Guide

Hey, everyone! As promised, I have put together a guide on how to find all the major scenes in Date 5, since some of them can be a little tricky. If something is unclear, feel free to leave a comment or send an ask about it! Keep in mind that this guide does not include every single choice in the date. If you want to know what each of them do, you will need to go explore the game yourself. This will only mention the choices that have an effect on the overall scenes. WARNING! This guide contains spoilers!

How to pass the end of Date 4

In order to get to Date 5, you will first need to survive the fae in Date 4. Here are the right choices for it after you get separated from the boys:

Don't use the clover

Continue walking at a normal pace

Go right

Only two of these are necessary to pass.

How to get Keith's Date 5 fluff scene

To go down Keith's route in Date 5 in general, you need to simply not ask for Tenebris, then to offer help. After that, so long as you avoid the nsfw option, you will be going towards his fluff scene.

However, if you end up snooping through his diary, some choices will force you right past his fluff scene!

In order to avoid this, you can stray clear of the diary altogether.

OR

Upon choosing to look at his diary, pick "It's not that bad", then "Go ask him about it."

How to get Tenebris' Date 5 fluff scene

"No it's not" OR "Yes, everything is great" THEN "Admit the truth"

Ask for Tenebris

Go get settled in

(Neither snooping nor not snooping has any effect)

Ask him to switch

Maybe we can just talk

How to get the joint fluff scene

There are no joint nsfw scenes in Date 5, only one fluff scene. In order to obtain it, make sure to pick these choices after you've reached the boys' apartment:

No it's not OR "Yes, everything is great" THEN "Admit the truth"

Ask for Tenebris

Offer to help

Wash it off

How to get the BDSM scenes

Important to mention: At the moment, there are no submissive player BDSM scenes. They may be added in the future on Keith's Date 5 route. Tenebris will always have solely dominant player scenes.

Keith:

Anything except "Ask for Tenebris"

Offer to help

Lick it off

Snoop around a bit

Look inside the wardrobe

Look inside the box

Go find Keith

Offer a massage

Take a peak at the cover of his book

Tenebris:

No it's not OR "Yes, everything is great" THEN "Admit the truth"

Ask for Tenebris

Go get settled in

Snoop around

Look inside the wardrobe

Look inside the box

Go back to Keith

Ask him to switch

Let's just play the game

Call him a brat

In order to get their VANILLA nsfw scenes, you may follow this guide without needing to snoop around or look inside the box in the wardrobe.

These are all the major scenes you can find in Date 5! Feel free to ask in the comments about more specific choices or any clarification about what's already in the guide.

[jaysguitarstring]

⋆｡°✩ it's the little things...

small actions they do for you on a daily basis.

⭑.ᐟ pairing ; enha x fem reader, established relationship

⭑.ᐟ warnings ; none

⭑.ᐟ join my permanent taglist here

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

HEESEUNG - making you sit on his lap

heeseung refuses to have you sit anywhere that isn't in a 1 meter radius of him. absolutely no way. your rightful place is either on his lap or closely next to him (for formal occasions, according to him). he doesn't care in the slightest even if the others tease him. if you don't sit on his lap while hanging out with the members, then he'll sulk all day.

JAY - buying you gifts

jay buys you gifts really often for no reason in particular. he just sees something that he thinks would look good on you or something that reminds him of you and he immediately buys it. no hesitation. when you ask him what was the reason, he'll respond "why do i need a reason to spoil you? you spoil me every day with other ways."

JAKE - kissing your cheek

it occurs naturally, almost like breathing. it’s his default greeting and goodbye, but he also sneaks in a small peck when you’re just sitting next to him, or laughing at his jokes. he won’t even realize he did it until you point it out. and even then, he’ll just smile like it’s the most normal thing in the world, because to him, showing you how much he loves you, even just through a small kiss, is normal.

SUNGHOON - tucking your hair behind your ear

he’s always so gentle with it. like he'll crush you with just a swipe of his hand. he does it mid-conversation, when he’s looking at you and your hair is just slightly in the way. tucks a strand behind so he can see your eyes better. he doesn’t say anything after, just smiles softly like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

SUNOO - holding your hand

sunoo is a sucker for physical affection, and holding your hand is his favorite way to stay close to you. he’ll reach for it anywhere and anytime. he often swings your hands together while on a walk just to hear that giggle coming out of your lips. he says it’s for comfort (maybe yours, maybe his, he'll never specify), but overall, he just likes knowing you’re right there next to him.

JUNGWON - getting you flowers

at this point, jungwon has a habit of bringing you flowers everyday. not just roses, he remembers your favorites, picks them based on your mood, the weather, or just because he saw some and thought they were "almost as pretty as you". even if you're out for a walk together, he'll randomly stop in his tracks just to pick out a flower from the grass and give it to you. he definitely takes the time to learn about the meanings behind each type of flower so his choices are more thoughful as well.

RIKI - putting his jewelry on you

he doesn’t say much when he does it, he just sees you wearing something plain, and all of a sudden, he's behind you clasping his chrome hearts necklace around your neck or gently taking your hand in his grasp to slip one of his rings onto your finger, before mumbling quietly "it looks better on you anyway". it's his way of marking you as his without being overly obvious. doesn't care at all if anybody notices, in contrast, even better.

@jaysguitarstring 2025. translations and reposts are prohibited.

[nerdycheol]

Terms of Sabotage || Y.J.H

pairings: yoon jeonghan x f!reader

genre/warnings: fake dating, college au, fluff, light angst, multimedia format

wc: 3.5k

summary: What starts as a petty plan to provoke your situationship quickly spirals when Jeonghan decides he has his own agenda. He’s charming, persuasive, and far too good at playing the part—but he doesn’t stop there. Suddenly, he’s helping with little schemes, showing up uninvited (but never unwelcome), and somehow ends up making himself at home in your life—and on your couch.

part of Rent-A-Boyfriend series

big thankyou to supi (@supi-wupi) for beta- reading <33

once again thankyou for 500 followers 🥺i’m honestly so grateful for every like, comment, ask, reblog. this little series started as a fun idea and now it’s become something so special to me. this is my first attempt at smau so bear with me. love you all sm!! 🫶 hope you like it :))

dividers by @cafekitsune

rent a boyfriend taglist | permanent taglist

do you ever look at someone and want to push their head deep into the flames of hell? 

that’s exactly what you are feeling right now. you are not an evil person. but how would someone feel when they see a random girl getting touchy with their boyfriend. well not exactly your boyfriend …yet. 

you are sitting in the corner of a bar, with your half-finished margarita in front of you. this was supposed to be a fun night out. you, your friends, and minjun. 

your friends are sitting around you gossiping about the ‘it’ couple who just broke up because the dude cheated on the girl with her best friend—gay best friend. very juicy, yes. normally you would have enjoyed it but right now all you could focus on is boring holes onto the girl who was with minjun– flirting. 

you would be wondering who this minjun is —is he your boyfriend, your friend, your crush. all of the above, technically. minjun is your situationship. you have the same major and have a few shared clubs. that’s how you know him. 

the first time you saw minjun was on orientation day. he rushed into the auditorium, breathless, scanning for a seat—then chose the one beside you.

annoyingly handsome. sharp jawline, soft lips, bouncy hair falling just right. clear skin, flushed cheeks. and somehow, he looked even better sweaty and panting.

maybe that’s when you fell for him.

you didn’t talk to him right away. you just… quietly sat behind him in every lecture, zoning out while staring at his stupidly perfect face. you even joined the same clubs as him. stalker-ish? yeah. but maybe it was for good.

eventually, minjun noticed you. he started talking to you. you became friends.

and after one too many drinks on a night out, you ended up sleeping together.

the next morning, he asked if you wanted to try the whole friends-with-benefits thing.

you said yes—obviously.

because you were stupid enough to think it’d turn into something more.

but all your hopes crash down whenever you see someone flirt with him—what’s worse is that he willingly lets them. tonight is one like that. 

giselle, who has been taking note of your expression the whole night nudges you and nods at you asking what happened to which you just shake your head and turn your gaze back to the couple.

giselle lets out a sigh, “you know it’s high time you stop thinking about him and start thinking about you.”

“but i,” you stir your drink with the red straw. “i just like him so much, but he just does not even seem to care about me until he wants to get his dick wet.”

“then make him jealous,” she shrugs. “that seems to be the most proven way to get a guy's attention.”

make him jealous. easier said than done.

how are you supposed to make someone jealous, when you don’t have someone to make him jealous with.

but the k-drama gods somewhat seems to be on your side today. you’re just trying to watch your k-drama in peace on a sketchy website, and suddenly this weird ad pops up.

Rent-a-boyfriend!

at first it seems really sketchy, but curiosity gets the best of you and you click on the ad which redirects you to a new site. the site does not look as sketchy as the ad, you think.

Boyfriend for Hire – Fake It Till You Feel It, the title said. below, you see a slideshow of a few men—highlighted ‘our best’. your eyes pause on one particular slide. 

Yoon Jeonghan.

you scroll down and see reviews: 

“(5/5) Booked him to make my ex jealous—ended up jealous of myself. How is he THIS good at fake eye contact?? I still think about the way he said my name.” ~@overitbutnotreally

“(5/5) He remembered my coffee order after one call. Held my hand like he meant it. My friends still ask about him. I had to pretend I broke it off just to save face.” ~@girlwhocriedfeelings

“(4/5) Flawless acting. Too flawless. Caught feelings. Would sue if I wasn’t also lowkey in love. Docked one star for emotional damage.” ~@chaoticrevengearc

that good? you definitely gotta check it out.

you don’t know how this is supposed to work but you hit on the confirm order button and just hope your money does not go in some scammer’s hands.

_

you look at the message for a good 10 minutes. you didn’t know it would actually work. you shake the thoughts out of your head before typing out a reply.

_

you are 15 minutes late. by the time you reach the cafe you were sure if he would have left. when you reached the cafe, not to lie, you were quite surprised to see him not gone, even more that he looks exactly like the pictures—beautiful. his hair’s a little messy—brown, shoulder-length, soft waves that look like he ran a hand through them on the way here. he’s in a plain white tee layered under a charcoal jacket, one arm draped over the back of the chair, the other around his half melted iced coffee.

“sorry,” you apologize meekly as you stand in front of him.

jeonghan looks up and says your name to confirm your identity. you nod once, reaching out your hand to shake his then slide into the seat across from him. 

you don’t say anything for sometime which forces him to speak out. 

“so… what are you looking for?”

“huh?” you look at him startled by the sudden conversation. 

“i mean you booked me, so i assume you have a motive—making your ex jealous, flexing in front of your friends. in case i’m wrong.”

“the first one.” you respond. “to make my situationship jealous… not ex.”

your voice dips at the end, his presence pressing at the edges of your nerves.

jeonghan nods. 

“so do you have any picture of them? for reference i mean. i can’t just go around making random people jealous, if you know what i mean.” he winks.

you don’t know what he means, still you take out your phone and show him a picture of minjun.

“what’s his name?”

“minjun,” you reply.

jeonghan takes one last sip of his coffee before slapping his hands on his thigh and getting up. 

“so, we’ll start tomorrow? dress pretty. we have somewhere to go.” 

You blink. “Somewhere?”

He leans down just a bit, enough for his voice to drop low—like this is some kind of secret.

“Can’t make someone jealous if they don’t see us.”

And with that, he flashes you a devastating smile, slips his coat over one shoulder, and heads for the door like this is just another day on the job.

You watch him leave, still holding your coffee, not entirely sure what you just signed up for. But your heart’s beating a little too fast.

And your phone pings a second later.

—

to make up for yesterday, you got ready early. 

now you’re standing outside the cafe, pretending to scroll through your phone while double-checking your reflection in the window for the third time.

jeonghan reaches the cafe two minutes after you. when he sees you he lets out a low whistle. 

“ooh, not bad!” he comments, eyeing you head to toe. for some reason the comment offends you a bit, but you don’t show it.

“shall we?” you say, not waiting for his reply before walking into the cafe.

—

jeonghan is not as weird as he seems. even though his little attempts at flirting did not exactly impress you, but he is not that bad either. the “date” went better than expected. 

jeonghan would make silly jokes, compliment you—a lot, even make an effort to learn your preferences. 

“so what is the deal between you and this, minjun guy” he asks.

you remain silent for a while, thinking what to say and what not. “we both go to the same college, same friend circle. things happened and we became friends-with-benefits. but…”

“you started liking him and he does not, so you are trying to make him jealous to invoke feelings in him. am i right or am i right?” 

the way he caught onto things so quickly baffled you. 

receiving no reply from you, he just nods. out of the blue asks you to open your phone and take pictures of him. a few turns into way too many—different angles, slight head tilts, half-smiles. he barely even blinks, adjusting his posture like he’s done this before (he probably has).

Finally, he lets out a satisfied hum and hands your phone back. “Post one. This should keep things interesting for a while.”

you raise a brow. “You’re kind of obsessed with yourself.”

he grins. “no, just committed to the role.”

_

jeonghan offered to drop you home—even though, as it turned out, he didn’t have a car. So the two of you ended up taking the bus.

somewhere between stops and shared earbuds, you played 20 Questions. you get to know he almost became an idol once, before he quit.

jeonghan was… fun. Easy to talk to. mysterious in a way that made you curious instead of cautious.

on the walk from the bus stop, it started to rain—a full downpour.  you both ran the rest of the way to your place, soaked and breathless. it only felt right to invite him in.

He was dripping wet, taxis weren’t showing up, and honestly… you didn’t really want him to leave just yet.

you're in the living room, carefully setting down two cups of green tea on the teapoy. he walks in a moment later–towel slung around his neck, hair still damp and curling at the ends. he settles on the couch without waiting to be told. 

you sit at the opposite end, legs tucked under you, trying not to watch the steam curl from his tea. Or the way he keeps glancing over at you, eyes half-lidded, hair still damp where it touches the nape of his neck. the rest of the night just went by, you talked and laughed. the night stretched on as the rain tapped gently against the windows. warm tea turned cold. his laugh lingered in the room. and somehow, without meaning to, he started to feel familiar. and when it was time for him to go back, you hugged.

—

minjun had viewed your story. almost everyone did. your dms were filled with “who is he”, “why didn’t you tell me about him”, “does he go to our college??”

the following week when you walked into the campus, giselle was already waiting. 

she links her arm with yours the second you step into the courtyard, “you have three seconds to explain or I’m spreading my own rumors.” 

you tell her everything—from the sketchy website to last night on the couch. she gasps after almost every sentence, each one louder than the other.

when you settle into your seats, minjun walks in. you are apprehensive of his reaction to the story. you sit up straighter every time he walks closer. but minjun just looks at you before walking away, sitting three rows away from you. 

a quiet disappointment settles in your chest.

the rest of the lecture you don’t look back nor do you listen to what the professor is saying. 

_

when jeonghan hears this, he doesn’t look surprised. 

“he’ll come around.” that’s all he says.

_

jeonghan comes up with more plans. cooking dates, movie dates, “accidentally” running into minjun when on a date. 

you were pretty sure he was enjoying the drama more than the mission. he even had a color-coded schedule. 

_

date 2: cooking date

the kitchen smells like burnt garlic or whatever jeonghan drops on the stove. you’re not sure what it is—you’re too busy laughing.

jeonghan holds the wooden spatula like a mic, licking a streak of tomato sauce off the edge. “chef’s privilege,” he says.

“you didn’t even cook!” you swat him away with a dishtowel. jeonghan just shrugs.

eventually, after the smoke alarm chirps once (just once—thankfully), you both surrender and order takeout.

the stove’s a mess. your hands are stained with something red. you’re sitting on the kitchen floor, backs against the cabinets, passing a bottle of wine between you. there are half-chopped onions on the counter. a single mushroom rolled under the fridge. jeonghan raises his glass, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“we might be the only ones who can burn pasta,” you laugh while having a sip of the wine. jeonghan chuckles.

“to our Michelin-star relationship,” he says, you laugh and clink your glass against his.

_

date 3: movie date

about a week later, jeonghan asks you to come see a movie with him. he shows up with three flavours of popcorn and a slushie that’s the size of your head.

the seats were terrible. jeonghan claims it to be a part of authentic experience.

he talks through the trailers. Comments on the font choices. Tries to predict the plot three minutes into the movie loud enough to get a few shushes.

“That guy’s definitely the villain.”

“He just offered someone a tissue," you retort.

“Exactly. Emotional manipulation.”

he steals your drink halfway through and makes a show of using your straw. “Indirect kiss. Wow. You move fast.”

You hit him. He laughed.

jeonghan insists on walking you back after the movie.

“They should’ve kissed and detonated the building together,” he says, as if that was a normal takeaway.

you stare. “That’s what you got from that movie?”

“Explosive romance. Iconic.”

at your door, he lingered.“hey! i’ll text you about our next date.”

_

jeonghan would text you almost everyday now—with silly things, a pic of pigeons romancing and captions ~you and him one day;), silly memes, and at times his photos captioned ~aren’t you glad i’m your boyfriend ;p

_

you don’t understand why shops insist on changing layouts every week. your favourite choco cereal used to sit comfortably in the middle row. but now? top shelf.

you curse your ancestors for giving you such a tragically short height. 

after a few unsuccessful jumps and increasingly dramatic stretches, you start to consider giving up entirely. but like some saviour a hand reaches from behind taking the box and hands it to you.

as you lift your head to thank the person, you are met with a smirking jeonghan.

“what are you doing here?” you whisper-shout.

“what do you mean? now i can’t even go shopping in my neighbourhood?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

you just shake your head and start walking away with your cart. 

“seriously though,” he says, glancing into your basket, “this is your grocery list? you planning to live off cereal and frozen dumplings?”

“it’s called survival.”

“it’s called malnutrition.” he starts tossing in things from the shelf. “here. you need greens. fiber.”

before you can argue, a voice interrupts.

“oh! you two look so cute together.”

you turn. it’s an older woman from your neighborhood. 

“young love is so sweet,” she says, smiling between you and jeonghan.

you open your mouth to correct her, but–

“we try,” jeonghan says, sliding his arm around your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you freeze.

“she makes me eat spinach, and i make her watch bad action movies. it works.”

you blink up at him.

he’s not even looking at you—he’s too busy smiling politely at the woman like he didn’t just say that with his whole chest.

she chuckles and gives you a little nod of approval before walking off.

you elbow him the second she’s gone.

“what was that?”

“i don’t know,” he says, casually picking up your cereal box again. “publicity. practice. fun.” then, grinning–

“you blushed, by the way.”

“did not.”

“did too.”

date 4: movie date 2.0

jeonghan plans another date. he just asks you to choose your favourite movie and put a few pillows on the couch.

it’s 8pm when he comes to your house, with 2 packets of potato chips, burgers, and a mcflurry.

“for you,” he says, nudging the ice cream toward you first. “because you’ve been insufferable lately and i thought sugar might help.”

you take it anyway. “you’re so annoying.”

“but charming,” he adds, walking in like he lives there. “you forgot to say charming.”

you both settle yourselves on the couch and start to eat. 

the movie starts. you try to focus—but it’s hard when he’s next to you, talking to the screen, reacting way too dramatically, offering you fries without looking. 

you don’t like how comfortable this feels, how easy this feels.

when he goes back he hugs you, you don’t.

_

you are at your locker when minjun comes at you.

“you said you were not dating.” he barks.

“what?” you ask confused.

“that dude. is he your boyfriend? you weren’t dating anyone like—two days ago.”

“yeah, it just happened! also, why do you care?” you ask, arms crossing instinctively. “we had a pact, remember? when either of us found someone we actually liked, this–”

you motion between you and him, “-would end.”

he goes quiet.

giselle, who has been a witness to everything you, speaks. “do you want us to give you a minute? i can pretend to look at gum or something.”

you almost snort. but your eyes don’t leave minjun.“you made it clear you didn’t want anything serious,” you say. “and i found someone who does.”

you don’t wait to hear his reply and leave with giselle.

_

you’re sitting with jeonghan on a bench at the park, legs barely brushing, the wind playing with your hair.

“the plan’s working,” you say, laughing lightly. “minjun texted me. says he wants to work things out.”

you glance over at him. “you’re free now.”

he doesn’t laugh.

a beat passes before he speaks. “how are we going to end things?” he asks, eyes still on the sky. “he thinks we’re dating.”

you pause. “we hang out at a bar on weekends,” you say slowly. “we could go, make it a show. fight. break up in front of him.”

jeonghan just nods.

_

the bar is packed—dim lights, loud music, chatter buzzing all around you.

you and jeonghan sit in the corner booth, just close enough for it to look intimate. you can feel the weight of minjun’s gaze from across the room. he’s watching.

jeonghan leans in, voice low. “you sure about this?”

you nod, even though your chest feels tight. “let’s make it ugly.”

he exhales, then straightens in his seat. and just loud enough, “you’re unbelievable, you know that?” he snaps.

you blink, caught off guard by how sharp his voice actually is.

“what?” you whisper.

“you dragged me into this whole mess, and now you’re backing out like none of it mattered.”

you raise your eyebrows. “backing out?”

“don’t act like you don’t know,” he says, louder now. a few heads turn.

“you’ve been weird since he texted you. what, you want to run back to him?”

“don’t do this,” you say, voice softer now. “not here.”

he stands. “you want to go back to a guy who never chose you the first time? be my guest.”

you flinch.

he looks down at you one last time, then turns and walks out without another word.

your heart pounds. the booth feels too big now. too quiet.

a moment later, minjun slips into jeonghan’s seat.

“so… that was intense.”

you don’t respond.

he leans in.

“look,” he begins, softer now. “i mean it. i want to try again. properly, this time. if you’ll let me.”

you look at him. his face, his hands, the way he’s looking at you like he means it.

and then you think about jeonghan.

the grocery store. the movie nights. the way he holds your wrist instead of your hand when you're anxious. how none of it ever felt fake.

you shake your head. “i’m sorry.”

before he can say anything else, you get up and run.

_

you catch him just outside the bar, half a block away. he’s walking fast, like he doesn’t want to give himself time to think.

“jeonghan!”

he stops, turns, surprised.

“why are you here?” he asks. “where’s minjun?”

you jog the last few steps to reach him, out of breath. “i said no.”

“what?”

“to him. he asked me to come back. i said no.”

he blinks. “oh.”

you look at him. the stupid hair falling into his eyes. the way his jacket’s slightly off his shoulder. the face you’ve been seeing almost every day, for all the wrong reasons—and somehow, now, all you can think is i want more time with you.

“you,” you say. quietly.

“i want you.”

for a second, he just stands there. “are you saying this because–”

“no,” you say. “i’m saying this because every part of pretending with you felt more real than anything i ever had with him.”

he smiles, small and real. “good.”

he steps closer.

“because i like you too.”

and then, finally, he reaches for your hand. he leans in, and his lips find yours—soft, easy, like he’s been waiting to do it.

taglist: @sanaxo-o @mylovesstuffs @itsclda @choco-scoups @woncheeks @woncheecks @chanranghaeys @https-seishu

@booseoksoonfighting @floraoleander @chariseiswriting @yawjows @daisymbin @bookprincessstuff @star-wingz

@eyeshasimps @mo0nstardust @jun-hannie @thepoopdokyeomtouched @kyeomiis @girlkisserrr69

@txtsoobean @imhereonlytoread @smiileflower @aeerio @armycarat2612 @thinkernot

@x-sweethoney-x @sarabencze @genkeu @reiofsuns2001 @onlyjungchan

[browneyedgremlingirl]

I find it more fun when Alfred has flaws, when he’s a person and not simply an archetype. Because the man has flaws and honestly I think it would be a really interesting 5+ times fic of the moment Bruce and the others each grew up and realized for the first time that Alfred was human just like the rest of them. Not like the moment he dies but more like Bruce catches him crying for the first time or Jason listens to Tim’s origin story and realizes that Bruce really did try everything to get him out of that Robin suit…but Alfred didn’t and actually encouraged it.

I want Damian to hear Alfred’s opinions on therapy and realize that the man went through war and so many other horrible things but he refused therapy just as Bruce does.

Nothing to demonize him but just to make him more human. Give him sick days, give him regrets and fears that make him stand slightly back from being a full member of the family, have one of the more normal members of the Justice league strike up conversation and realize that he was the one who raised Bruce; who helped create Batman whether he likes it or not because there’s something just a little crazy about Alfred—just like anyone has to be to choose to be a superhero. Cape or not.

Ok ik this probably isn't real but what if Alfred thought it would be fine if he just gave Tim the suit and told him "go, be free, don't die or you're fired" bc he forgot kids don't usually fight martial arts or given Bat Training™ from a young age. Imagine:

Alfred: Go be the light in these dark times, son.

Tim: thank you. I will.

*15 minutes later*

Bruce, kicking down the door, holding Tim by the cape and dangling him like a scuffed cat: ALFRED WHAT THE HELL!

Alfred: Sir! That was mahogan-

Bruce: You can't just let him go out there! He didn't even know how to punch correctly!!!

Alfred: Whatever do you mean, he should have learned that by now.

Bruce:

Alfred:

Bruce: ... W h a t

Alfred: Young Mr. Drake should have learned by now several martial arts. I mean when you were 11, you-

Bruce, absolutely tired: Alfred.

Alfred: -And by 16 he'll be ready for aerial combat. When I enlisted, lying about my age, I took to the planes rather fast-

Bruce: ALFRED.

Alfred: Don't shout at me, Master Bruce, it's unbecoming. What is it?

Bruce, holding up Tim higher to be in Alfred's line of sight and gesturing vaguely at the small child: HE DOESN'T KNOW COMBAT. HE'S NORMAL.

Alfred: Normal? What do yo- oooooohhhhhhhhhhh

Bruce: YEAH. 'OH' IS RIGHT!!!

Alfred: ... What did I just say about shouting? It's unseemly, Master Bruce.

[trh0d3s]

Manager In The making!

Ch 4!

saja boys x Human Manager reader

10 am sharp, your already up not like you slept much Anyway. You only came back to your apartment to see if the wardrobe arrived for the boys and make your face looks like you slept more than 2 hours. It’s fine you’ll just take a nap during intermission of the performance and game show. If they even let you of course who knows if your going to be chasing them all day. You have everything to legally perform at the square and NOT be arrested on sight. You just have to make a small quick trip before, their grown adults should survive 10 minutes.

You look over your clipboard the coffee maker mid brew next to you, your tempted to just take the pot and not pour it into a mug. You ignore the thought and pour it into a thermos you can’t walk around with a coffee pot. You look at the coffee pot contemplating it for a moment….mhm no.

The performance is at noon maybe you should head over to hand out the clothes already? You mumble to yourself eyes focused on what you could have missed going down the checklist for the hundredth time. A knock at your door stops your muttering, where you expecting any one? No, you haven’t had anyone over for months or maybe even years.

You live a sad lonely life get over it.

Multiple knocks sounded through the door the longer you waited staring at the door confused the more frequent until.

“Manager let us in! Or I’m taking the door with its hinges!” It was Abby furiously knocking more like banging on your door now much different than the first few times. You walk over coffee mug in hand no time to put any creamer or suger cause he might actually break your door.With how aggressive he is gotta be taking steroids. The door opens to abby mid wrestling with Jinu trying to stop him from punching the door. They push each other off straightening up to you at the door coffee mug in hand with the words inscribed “Male tears”.

How you love ironic mugs makes waking up that much sweeter.

Good choice of mug for this attempted murder.  You look up at the group taking a sip of your mug before letting out a sigh and letting them in. At least you won’t have to make the trip over there the neighborhood Jinu sent sounded so Bougie your phone asked if it was the right address. You already questioned them enough if you ask why now they will only deflect…

But your going to anyway.

“Why are you at my door?Are you not supposed to be getting ready?” Yea like vocal warmups? And actual warmups like normal idols…that you know.

Jinu leans against the door frame looking down at the writing on your cup sweat dropping. “Male tears?” He raises a flawless eyebrow down at you.

You look up raising the cup to your mouth once more making direct eye contact. “Soon it’s gonna be your tears” You lower the cup and step back away from the door to let them in. “I don’t have the patience to interrogate you just come in already”

Jinu smirks feeling like he won the battle and strides in all confidence. Abby follows after him with romance behind him they hang off each other pointing at every little thing they see at the walkway. Your house may be a little different than others but it’s not that interesting? Baby trails behind with mystery the last one to follow almost cautious to step through.

Your punching the wall in your mind right now cause why does he have to be so adorable? AAA-

Mystery looks up at you leading the rest of his group inside he doesn’t know why he was so hesitant. Almost felt wrong to come in, a demon in your private space. He follows anyway looking at your personality through the knickknacks and décor.

 It smells like you.

Some places heavier than the others if he follows it his eyes only find a half open door. Was that your room? He almost steps the back of baby’s shoes until he gets elbowed in the stomach by him.

You turn back to the boys to see mystery getting  gutted by baby’s elbow, did you miss something? You set down your mug a couple minutes ago to get the clothes from the closet ready. Setting them out on the back of the couch by order in the group. You spent an hour last night finding flexible but also stylish clothing, dancing needs material for movement. The overnight shipping paid off too, spending your morning so its freshly washed and ironed. The packaging smell isn’t the right look for first time idols.

 You step back gesturing to the clothes with a simple wave letting them grab theirs while you snatch your mug back. Wish you had something stronger. Too bad drinking on the job is frowned upon.

Jinu side eyes you while picking up his hanger before looking back down with almost childlike curiosity. “This… is acceptable” He nods to himself looking over to the fabric then the rest of the group started picking theirs up. Inside Jinu is freaking out about  how soft it is, way different than what he’s used to. Abby was ready to strip and put on a show but you stop him with a look too tired for his shit. No thank you, I’m not seeing your abs at 10:21 am. Save it for the middle aged women and questioning men.

“Let me leave first then change you heathens” you walk to your room closing the door behind you making sure to lock it in case anyone wants to be funny. (*cough* Abby *cough* Romance *cough*) You sit on the edge of your bed coffee in hand letting it all sink in as you hear them tear the clothes off the hangers. What animals.

Who could imagine outside your door is 5 hot men changing in your house in to clothes you picked. Your employer’s nonetheless. Feels like the beginning to a R rated film.

 You shiver remembering your college days when your friend showed you the dark-side of YouTube. Grunting and pulling your mug away from your face it was empty just your luck. Could you come out now? Putting on clothes is not hard and doesn’t take so long so why haven’t they given the all clear yet? Now that you think about it, you can’t hear Jinus humming or Abby’s cursing.  There must be a gas leak and their all dead cause 2 minutes of silence is god send.

“Are you done?! Cause we don’t have time to waste you know” You get up mug in hand cause if your going to see their dead bodies on the floor your grabbing the pot and running with it. You lean against the door trying to listen but not hearing a answer not even a shuffle. You look down at your phone for the time you have an hour or so left to get out the house and walking. Rolling your eyes you unlock and open your door expecting to see them in front of you standing the living room. You scrunch your face confused and look to the side to the walkway where you own a full body mirror is. They are all taking turns looking at themselves, more like baby and Abby pushing each other out of the way behind Jinu.

Mystery was feeling the fabric a few feet away raising his arm to smell the fabric before looking up meeting your eyes. Eyes to hair ratio. Can he smell the fabric softener you used? It’s a personal favorite so your glad he likes it at least.

They actually look…really nice now they are cleaned up, before it looked like they shopped at a outlet. No hate to outlets but Jinu dressed like a old man going to the park to stare at birds.  He looks the types.

Mystery walks up to you while the rest where distracted with their vanity. Doing a small slow awkward  twirl to show you as if waiting for your approval. He really is like a puppy? Mystery is your favorite again baby second cause he doesn’t give you shit.

You chuckle to yourself stepping forward to smooth out his collar and look him over. It looked like a good fit and easygoing for movement. “Comfortable? No snagging in places?” You look behind him to call out to the others it looked like baby was sitting on a pinned down Abby.

Romance and jinus taking points why Abby lost while baby sat like the smug bastard he is. “How about you guys?” You ignore the loser on the floor speaking to the rest, they looked comfortable so that’s good.

Romance stretches out giving you the full look of the flexibility the clothing,  giving him one more check off the list. “Comfortable and breathable?” Baby nods getting off Abby who glares at him with the strength of a thousand suns. “It actually goes with our song” baby points out non discreetly kicking a man while he’s down. Abby grumbles getting up off the ground dusting off the fake dust he believes he got like the a psycho he is.  He grins all teeth pulling at his button up in a way you think he’s trying to tear it off if it wasn’t for that dam updraft he’s trying to do with the shirt. You have to cover your eyes so you, v line too powerful!

“It really highlights all my best features” Cue Abby flexing like his life depends on it, letting the shirt lift and his Abs show like it’s a Calvin Klein ad. He probably spends 20 minutes putting on body oil for his abs to shine like that. You look him over up and down you do see the appeal but getting flashed is not your plan today.

You turn away from the sex appeal on legs to romance and baby, baby was lowkey rocking it he lives up to his name. Hold on when did he do his nails? You walk up to him and snatch his hand up inspecting his nails. “Press ons?” He looks at you surprised before nodding. He actually didn’t know what press ons where but if it would get you off his case then he rather say yes. You look down at his nails nodding to yourself your going to get their nails done after this it will be too long if you go now so press ons are good for now. “Good choice..” You look beside you seeing the rest also have their nails done some with really good taste. They didn’t have this yesterday you had many chances to see their nails but nothing just bare.

You check your phone again cursing to yourself you have to get down already so you can meet with the local authorities. “Alright boys we are heading out. Save any complaints till after we don’t have time.” You double back grabbing the coffee pot pouring it into a big thermos and chucking it into the sink. Your going to have an ounce of dignity while you down this like a man surviving on his pension. You set out grabbing your keys and turning around with a glare of authority you are a dam manager. If this doesn’t go well you will actually call on a airstrike.

Mystery was halfway to your room frozen in his stance seeing how he was caught. Is personal space nothing to these men?  Your eye twitched and he straightened up speed walking over pushing baby with him who was watching him try and get to your door. That instigator you can smell it from a mile away.

Jinu watched as he slipped past by you to the door mystery and baby seemed to have warmed up to you quick. He doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or just going to make killing you when this ends just more harder. Until then he’s just here to make sure you don’t die. He sends a glance to Abby who is busy stretching in front of the mirror. Romance was criticizing his form with playful quips fixing his overly jelled hair. “You heard them guys! Out!” He places a smile on his face this performance is the start to their scheme as much as he likes messing with the manager. He can feel gwi -mas hunger growing louder.

You huff walking out the door clipboard and thermos  in hand expecting them to follow you. You lock the door behind them pocketing your keys, while locking it Abby and romance make eye contact a mischievous grin shared between them. You turn back around to the two looking anywhere but each other. They are planning some shit arnt they…..

You walk out into the side street gaze fixed on the clip board in front of you letting them follow you. Triple checking your double check, adding some more to the list for later as well. If you get this done with nothing going wrong you can nap for 30 minutes. You make it a couple streets down in perfect silence no peep from any of them. You snap out of work mode clocking the lack of  activity, It’s the nerves making it’s works isn’t it. Even if they piss you off half the time you were employed(24 hours)  it’s still their debut. You sigh looking up from your clipboard ready to give words of encouragement.

.       .        .       .

.        .        .

THEY LEFT YOU AGAIN.

PIECES OF SHIT CON MEN CANT EVEN LET YOU GET A WORD OUT THAT’S WHY IT WAS SO QUIET.

Can’t even be a good manager with them acting like that. You roll your eyes at the empty space behind you marching forward to the security booth. You needed to make sure they won’t get arrested and ruin both theirs and your reputation! You grit your teeth shaking your thermos into the air like crazy person.

You walk out the booth cracking your knuckles with a glance down at the time looks 10 minutes before performance. Took a little longer than expected the security for the area wasn’t even in the booth! You had to go around looking for them having a smoke out back then coming back to the booth to show the paperwork. Only to get waved off complaining about the workload, geez old men these days.

You rush over to the square expecting to see your employers off to the side getting ready to take the stage. There was even a small crowd waiting for the show around the plaza, all holding flyers or phones to take photos. Could they be huddling up in one of the alleys?

You walk around tapping your nails against your board from nerves, this really wasn’t the time to get cold feet. You crane your neck around some people into walkways before thinking they could be at the same one from last time. You shuffle over near the entryway just to hear music start behind you. Finally! You were going to start chewing cuticles again if you couldn’t find them.

You turn to the pink cloud of smoke spreading, murmurs growing louder going around a trio carrying a box. You can hear the vocals starting so You’ll just stand to the side…

“Don’t want you, need you”

“Yea, I need you to fill me up!”

Pausing in your goal to step aside and watch to keeping everything in check,  Jinus voice was loud and clear. You look to the side seeing the small camera still set up ok good. You look back ahead only to be barreled through by a old woman trying to get to the front. You sigh hearing the trio behind be victim of this women too. You watched them continuing to go around not wanting to be done like that again.

They are actually really good…if you ignored their personality you would be one of crowd. You turn your attention from them to the crowd watching the screaming faces. A small smile grows on your face raising your thermos to drink and look back to the performance. You watch Abby absolutely demolish vocals the tune was pretty catchy.

Wait when did Jinu get a juice pouch…is that…some sort of herbalist cocktail? You watch as the camera picks it up displaying it on the tv of him drinking while the rest sung. They are oddly super In sync…

Not something you would listen to on a the daily though…

You watch them smoothly dance like their gliding across the pavement you were having small doubts but was quickly stomped away. You look back down at your clipboard to make some notes missing the heart that whipped past your head. Hitting the women behind you in the face.

 You look up feeling your hair move but no wind.  Looking back to the show watching Abby  dance his way to the front ready to drink half your thermos to take the edge off. You see something purple glint in the sun. Was that on their skin? You try squinting again seeing a vague outline of something purple. Is that….body glitter?

You rub your eyes the strain trying to see again making your eyes ache. You didn’t see any on them after they changed was this a new idea? Like with the nails a momentary development. You go back to your clip board flipping the papers to the note pad underneath writing ask about body glitter with multiple question marks scribbled around. Maybe your hallucinating again…you look down at your thermos before shrugging taking a sip.

You actually spit out your drink when baby starts rapping unintentionally getting it on your papers. Well fuck, you were so flabbergasted at the irony  you ruined both your notes and papers. You try waving your papers getting the excess water out only to smack a enamored by-passer in the face. She wasn’t even fazed only trying to get closer to the event. Should’ve guessed self respect would run out the door the minute a pretty faced idol showed up. You click your tongue like a disappointed parent on prom night.

The screams got louder in different directions the harmonizing getting louder before some muffled crying. You look back to see the same trio of girls demolishing wrapped gifts. You should probably call security…..

You raise your phone ready to dial the security booth number only getting a couple rings before going to voicemail. Dam should’ve known not to give them your number for this exact reason. Probably thinking I’m going to complain about minor details they could care less about.

You huff staring at your phone opting to go up to the kids after the girls  ran from their crime. They ran back into the crowd after stomping all over the boxes, who would do this to kids?

You sigh and walk up the the crying and shocked  children opting to crouch in front of them.

“Hey it’s ok I’ll get those girls for you” you stretch a hand out to the girl first crying  offering your hand. “We can go watch the rest of the event then look for your parents?” She sniffled and with a hiccup took your hand, you look to the other two but they are looking up in amazement. You look up as well and it looked like the the area had a filter put around us. Looking around again hoping to find the culprit before looking back at the group performing on a…. Soda can?

You thought you were the manager but couldn’t stop them from passing anything by you. Taking liberties for a projector? A good one at that cause no bullshit machine can do this. You huff feeling a little inferior your grip on the girls hand tightening before letting go. She pulled away to run into the crowd as well the two boys squealing in excitement. Looks like they feel better now…

You look down at the debris of cardboard and ribbons, kicking it out of the way frustrated at your attempts to be a good manager.

You pick up the trash and throw it in the bin sighing, don’t want to be arrested for littering.

 Turning back to the performance the people were loving it. Way more than you thought they would, Maybe the night before payed off. You shake away the thoughts of doubt you helped make this happen and that should be enough for you.

“Your my soda pop. Gonna drink every drop~”

You spot Jinu turn in your direction with a smile before his attention diverted to the crowd. Leaning down to wipe fake dust off his shoulder making direct eye contact with someone. He must have some real beef…it’s clearly a taunt.

Swear if he did that to you he’s  going to wish he never came to Korea. You plot on your mind how you would jump Jinu in three steps not clickbait. Getting ripped away from your daydream of using those how to YouTube videos to good use.

The big  screen lights up above them

“That’s it for now see you tonight at everyone’s favorite variety show” He smiles to the crowd his voice sweet like honey. “Saja boys love you!” Stepping forward with his boys behind him doing various poses you could see baby and mystery turn in your direction as they made hearts out of their hands.

 You would find this cute if it wasn’t for baby’s face. He looked constipated, you choke on your spit having to look away. Jinu pulls a pair of sunglasses out of his ass to put on all suave.

“My little soda pop~”

Then poof, more pink smoke where they last stood. You like the pattern actually, leaving the way you showed up. They have to show you how they do that though, was it a trick using smoke bombs and trap doors? If you go to the prop they were standing on would they be cramped in the middle. You wait a couple minutes letting the area clear out before stepping forward.

You make sure no one is looking before kicking the prop hard, if they weren’t in there it wouldn’t matter. You chuckle kicking it one more time and leaning down to listen for anything. Jack nothing.

 You walk around a little more checking for a opening you could get into but it’s sealed tight. You groan running a hand through your hair. Now you have to go find them again and you really want that nap…

Someone taps you on the shoulder before tugging you to turn around and face them. It’s the same trio running around causing havoc to those poor pedestrians. You yank yourself away raising your clipboard a mock battle ready in case they try anything. “You going to break my shit too?!”

The one in purple pulls away flabbergasted you would even say that waving her arms no. “No, wait what?” The tall one glaring at you leans back to whisper to the short one giving you sideways glances. “Their definitely a demon too…” she whispers to the latter who just stares at you in blank awe. 

The purple one shushes them and steps toward you analyzing you from head to toe. Starting to feel a little weird here..

“You work with them?” She questions getting even closer to you, you step back every time she steps forward.

“Yea I’m their manager?” Is this the first crazy fan your going to have to deal with? Is this god punishing you for buying the couch you wanted and definitely didn’t need? That is how you got here actually…

We will circle back to that cause your getting cornered by three crazy ladies!

You should pull a Jinu and disappear cause your not getting attacked on your first day.

“Definitely a demon” wait demon? Did you just hear that. Did they call you a demon, who says that to strangers.

“If you have any complaints or…professions of love you can call my office” You hand them your business card and try slipping away as they all leaned in to see. Yea heck no these people are crazy your booking it.

You giggle running down the brick street this is definitely not how you pictured today going.

“HEY GET BACK HERE DEMON!”

“IM NOT A DAM DEMON”

—————-—-crack cocain corner———————

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG PLEASE FORGIVE MEEEEEEEEE

[wildflowersandvibranium]

A Cozy Fourth Of July

I recommend listening to the song COZY by JEREMY ZUCKER while reading as it’s inspired by it <3

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: On a chaotic Fourth of July , Bucky Barnes battles old memories beneath fireworks , but finds safety and solace in the unwavering love who never stops reaching for him.

Word count: 2.1k+

Content: hurt / comfort , angst and fluff , mentions and scenes of of PTSD , anxiety / panic , kissing

a/n: hai my loves! For the PTSD symptoms and scenes I took inspo from my real life and my grandpa who struggled on the fourth just liek I have written Bucky. My heart is for all the veterans and sweet animals the struggle with today.Tysm for all who voted on the poll this was made from! If you were hopin for the other prompt my inbox is open for requests hehe I hope you enjoy and have a safe and happy fourth for all who celebrate! see you on the next one bbys!

my masterlist is pinned!

The warm savory scent of grilled street corn and charcoal smoke from the grill drifted on the early evening breeze , laughter rising in spurts from the backyard as giggling kids chased each other with sparklers and sticky fingers. 

A classic and joyful Fourth of July party. Patriotic decor and flags hung lazily over the wooden porch railings , music from a bluetooth speaker floated out over the large freshly cut lawn , and someone was already breaking out the potato salad. It was a perfect evening.

Bucky Barnes stood just inside the open glass sliding door , a golden beer bottle in one hand , the other brushing lightly against yours as you scanned the yard full of people. Your family was loud , chaotic in the most loving way and a little crazy. 

There was always someone talking , someone yelling for a dish to be brought out or the ice chest to be refilled , someone laughing hard enough to make their whole body shake. He should’ve felt overwhelmed already , but you had a way of keeping him anchored.

“You doing okay?” you peered up at him , nudging his arm. His knuckles brushed yours. That simple touch had become something of a tight tether.

“Yeah ,” Bucky glanced at you then added a little nod. “I’m alright. Just... watching.”

“You’re allowed to sit , y’know. No one’s making you stand guard.” You nudged and whispered so only he heard.

His lips curved into a half-smile. “Old habits.”

“I know” You led him out into the yard , easing him into a lawn chair near the picnic tables while a few younger cousins gathered at his feet , inexplicably drawn to him. 

Kids had a weird magnet type radar for soft-hearted people hiding behind stoic faces , and Bucky—despite the dark stubble and biceps and history , was no exception.

“Did you really fight aliens?” asked your little cousin Mateo , green eyes wide as saucers , mouth sticky and wet with watermelon.

Bucky smirked at the kid. “Yeah.”

“Were they , like, hugeeee?”

“Some of ’em.”

“Did you punch any of them?”

He nodded solemnly. “Yep.” Popping the “p”.

Mateo’s whole body bounced with excitement and awe. “COOOOL!”

You tried not to laugh too loudly at the boy. He was trying so hard to be normal and calm.  And this? This kind of attention? It helped. Watching him gently mess and pull down Mateo’s baseball cap playfully  , answering question after question , even showing the metal arm when asked ( kids loved the metal arm)—it was progress.

Then came your grandmother.

“James ,” she said , her voice like honey and pepper , hands on her hips , she was one of the very few people who refused to call him by his nickname. “You still haven’t eaten anything. My granddaughter told me you were strong as an ox. Oxen eat,  you know dear.”

He blinked at her ways , then chuckled. “Yes , ma’am.”

“Oh nonse, enough of the “ma’am” , Eat!. Get yourself a plate before I start piling it on myself. You won’t like that. I don’t believe in small portions.” She winked walking away back to the food tables.

Bucky leaned toward you as she left, whispering in your ear, “She scares me a little.”

“She should ,” you grinned, grabbing his bicep. “She once made an ICE agent cry.”

As a hazey purple dusk settled in the sky and the first firework went off—small , whistling up into the air before bursting with a polite pink pop—you instinctively touched Bucky’s hand.

His jaw twitched. “I’m okay,” he murmured.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. These… these are okay. When I know they’re coming , it’s different. When I can see the people lighting them. It’s the surprise ones that—”

He trailed off , but you nodded. You knew. And when the sky flickered pink and green with another burst , you kept your hand right on his thigh , grounding him with nothing more than your presence.

More people showed up. Chairs shuffled. Fire pits flickered to life. A group of teenagers was setting up a bigger batch of fireworks , the kind that boomed louder , lit up more sky brightly. You didn’t love those for your own reasons , but Bucky…

You kept checking in. And then it felt like pure chaos burst right open.

Mateo tripped near the stone path to the front door , catching his little knee on the edge of rock. He screamed like he’d been stabbed or broken and bone , and a crowd gathered in seconds. 

You rushed to him as you were closets , hands already reaching into your pocket for tissues and wipes. The scrape wasn’t too bad , but he was inconsolable in the way only six-year-olds could be. Between soothing him and shooing off hovering worried relatives , it took a minute before you looked back to where you and Bucky had been sitting.

Gone. Empty.

You stood up , eyes sweeping the yard and street. Fireworks were going off now in steady booming waves. People were whooping , cheering. An older cousin shoved a Roman candle at his buddy nearly missing him making an older unt curse at them for being reckless. 

Bucky wasn’t at the picnic tables. Not sitting on the porch. Not in any of the lawn chairs.

“Where’d Bucky go?” you asked no one in particular. They were too busy watching the show in the sky.

Panic set in , low and heavy in your chest.

You turned and ran straight toward the house. Not walking. Sprinting.

The house inside was quieter. Not silent—the muffled cracks of fireworks still bled in through the walls—but it was dim , still , and closed off from the relentless chaos outside.

“Bucky?” you called out , crossing to the kitchen. No answer.

You moved fast , checking the guest bathroom , the study.  Nothing. You headed down the hallway toward the your bedroom your family had lent you for the weekend.

Your chest was tight now with fear and worry. That pressure in the center of your ribs you only got when you knew something was wrong before you saw it. 

You creaked and opened the bedroom door slowly.

“Bucky?” you say again , softer now.

Silence.

Until a barely audible—a sound reaches your ears.

You crouched looking for the noise. Peeking under the bed.

And there he was. Your love.

Curled in on himself. Shoulders shaking. Fists clenched so tight the metal one was digging into the hardwood floor. His eyes were shut , hard , tight , like he was bracing for the impact of something destructive and terrible.

Your heart immediately sank to your knees. You dropped to him , flat to the floor , then slid and rolled under the bed with him , not caring if the dust stuck to your clothes or if the wood frame pressed into your hip.

“Bucky,” you reach out but stopping just short of touching him. “You’re safe. You’re not back there.”

He didn’t move. He didn’t hear you. Or maybe he did , but his brain was still locked in that place , wherever it had yanked him right back to. That place with screaming and metal and chaos and death. That place he didn’t talk about in detail.

You scooted closer and cupped his scruffy cheek carefully , your voice firmer now , but steady and calm.

“James. You’re home. You’re not in the past. You’re not a soldier tonight. You’re not alone. Look at me.”

Still nothing. You inhaled sharply. Two words shook him out of his trance.

“Sergeant Barnes.”

His eyes snapped open like a switch had been flipped abruptly.

Wide. Unfocused. Searching.

But on you. Never leaving you.

“Hi ,” you whispered , your voice breaking. “I’m here. You’re safe. I got you.”

Bucky’s eyes filled with moisture. The tension that had been holding him upright collapsed all at once, and he lunged—not violently , but desperately , into you. His hands found your shirt , grabbed tight , and he pulled himself into your chest like he needed to disappear into you.

You cradled his head against you , wrapping your arms around his trembling frame. Still beneath the bed. Still dark. Fireworks still going off outside. But in this small space , it was just you and him.

His voice was barely audible muffled by your body. “I couldn’t breathe.”

“I know”

“I couldn’t tell where I was.”

“I know , baby.”

You stayed like that for some minutes , maybe ten , maybe thirty. His breath evened out but he didn’t let go. You didn’t ask him to.

Then a louder more intense bang then crackle went off outside. Closer this time. Bucky flinched so hard he nearly hit the slats with his head under the bed.

“Okay,” you whispered quickly. “Okay. One sec.”

You slid out from under the bed , but didn’t let go of his hand. You reached up blindly and grabbed your headphones from the nightstand , then the weighted blanket you slept with every night.

You crawled back under and slid up beside him , slipping the headphones gently over his ears , kissing his temple as you did. You tapped your phone , pulling up a playlist you’d made for him , songs he mentioned he loved. A quiet vintage piano melody filled the headphones. You could hear it faintly through the foam coverings.

Then , slowly , you draped the soft grey weighted blanket over the both of you , cocooning him and yourself in that soothing safe pressure and warmth.

He closed his eyes again—but this time , not in panic. In rest.

You pulled your phone out again and opened the family group chat. Being mindful not to turn off the music as you typed up a message.

>>> Hey , if anyone needs me and Bucky , text me. Please don’t come inside our room. He’s okay now , just needs quiet.

Then you tossed your phone aside and wrapped both arms around him under the blanket , your head tucking under his chin.

You didn’t say anything for a long time. Just stayed. Placing a few kisses here and their to his chest and shoulder every once ina while.

His fingers found yours eventually through the third or fourth song , linking and lacing tight.

The playlist looped through soft piano and ambient strings , a lull beneath the weight of the blanket and the world surrounding.

Under the bed , it was cramped and getting warm but neither of you moved.

Bucky’s breathing had evened out into a slow pace , chest rising and falling steadily. His grip on your fingers and hands never loosened. He held on like you were the only thing tethering him to this century , to this very moemnt. Maybe you were.

Eventually afte the fireworks began to calm for a moment , his voice cracked the silence. Low. Fragile.

“I’m sorry.”

You turned your head up to look at him , your eyes meeting his ocean ones. “What for?”

He hesitated running a hand up and down your back , soothing him and you. “Ruining the night.”

You scoffed , gentle but real keeping your eyes on him. “You didn’t ruin anything..”

Another pause. Then again.

“For scaring you.”

“You didn’t scare me ,  Buck.” Your thumb rubbed over his metal knuckles kissing each one , a gesture you did to show you weren't afraid of that part of him.  “But I hate seeing you hurting like that. This is not your fault. Your brain’s just... wired to panic when it hears war outside.”

He exhaled , shakily. “It’s so stupid. I knew there’d be fireworks. I prepared. I told myself I was fine. But then I wasn’t. And I couldn’t control it.”

“ PTSD is not something you logic your way out of. It’s not about being strong.” You said plainly.

“I should’ve told you I felt it coming on.”

“You didn’t have to. I could tell.” You smiled softly , even though he wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore. “That’s why I kept checking in. You don’t have to carry that alone anymore , Bucky.”

His eyes shifted toward you. 

You continued your words. “You’re not some broken thing we have to fix. You’re healing. And that’s messy. Some days there are fireworks. Some days are quiet and peaceful. Either way , I’m here. Right here. I’ll always be right here.”

He blinked hard , trapping the tears that formed behind his eyes , then nodded , swallowing against the tightness in his throat.

The blanket shifted slightly as he leaned in closer , pressing his forehead gently to yours. His voice was rough. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

You didn’t answer. Just kissed the corner of his mouth , his nose then back to his lips , slow and light , your hand brushing over the stubble on his cheek as you did.

Outside , the fireworks kept cracking. Bright colors flashing through the curtains lighting up the room. People still shouting , cheering.

But in here—under a bed , wrapped in a heavy blanket and the softness of your love—Bucky Barnes was safe.

And for the first time in a long time , he finally believed it.

-end

Comments , Reblogs , Likes and Requests are always loved!

(although if you liked this fic please consider reblogging so it can reach a wider audience)

They let me know that you are enjoying what I'm publishing and gives me motivation to write more and more! :33

[freakmcnastyy]

Weak Hero Boys x P!Reader Headcanons

Weak Hero Class boys x pregnant!reader (fluff)

Includes: Geum Seongjae,Na Baekjin, Ahn Suho, Yeon Si-eun, Kang Woo-young, Oh Beom-seok, Go Hyuntak, Park Humin (Baku)

Note: This was an anon request! AND GOD, I swear writing — let alone reading — stuff like this makes me feel all kinds of weird. And I wrote each character at a different time of day so they wouldn’t all feel the same. Hope I pulled it off.

⸻

Geum Seongjae

1. The Moment He Finds Out:

Silence. He just stares. Then his lip twitches.

The second you tell him you’re pregnant, Seongjae goes quiet for a few seconds. He looks unbothered on the outside, but you know a thousand things are racing through his head. In that moment, his whole “world” shifts.

“I knew no one else could ever give me something like this.”

He says it softly, but something breaks in his eyes — like the idea of ever letting you go has become completely impossible.

2. Possessiveness:

Obsession. Protection. Paranoia.

He’s not just protecting you anymore, but everything you’re carrying inside you. Even the tiniest bit of stress is enough reason for him to lock you in the house. If someone bumps into you by accident? Seongjae might beat them up in the middle of the street without a second thought.

“I better not see you cry again. I’m dead serious.”

Even the dark circles under your eyes feel like a personal insult to him.

3. Physical Obsession:

He’s obsessed with your belly. Every time he talks to you, his hand goes there like a reflex. At night, he lays his head against it and whispers things to the baby. He starts acting like a “family” way before the baby’s even born — but not in a normal way.

“There’s a piece of me inside you. That means you don’t get to leave. Ever.”

4. Jealousy & Going Insane:

Another guy checking you out while you’re pregnant? Your best friend trying to take you out of the house? It’s all a problem. At some point, he might even try to hide the fact that you’re pregnant altogether.

“Don’t wear that. There’s no reason to show your stomach like that. People don’t need to see. That’s mine.”

5. Random Kindness Spikes:

He’ll suddenly start talking about baby room ideas, sweet little dreams, out of nowhere. In those moments he seems normal, like a regular excited dad — but there’s always a breakdown bubbling underneath.

“If it’s a girl, you can name her. But if it’s a boy… I’ll decide.”

6. Before & After the Birth:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more controlling he becomes. He chooses the hospital, who’s allowed in the room, even the nurse that’s going to be with you.

“If anything goes wrong… someone’s paying for it. Got it?”

And after the birth? He isolates you, the baby, and himself like it’s a three-person world. He wants to build everything from zero — just you three.

“It’s only us now. Everyone else out there is dangerous. What else do I need to do to make you understand that?”

⸻

Na Baekjin

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. He masks his emotions, but his pupils shake. After you tell him, he holds your gaze — and stays exactly the same. Cold. Serious. Neither happy nor mad. Then he lowers his head a little.

“Is it mine?”

He trusts you. He does. But he still asks — not because he doubts you, but because he wants to believe so bad it physically hurts. And maybe… because he hates himself a little too much.

2. He Doesn’t Say “I Can’t Be a Dad,” but…

Responsibility? That’s not something he’s ever believed he deserved. He tells himself, “Someone like me can’t raise a child.” But he still parks outside your place every night, just watching. Making sure nothing happens.

“Don’t be alone. I’m behind you like a shadow — just act like I’m not there.”

3. His Way of Protecting You:

Silent. Brutal. Shadowed. Baekjin never publicly claims you. But anyone who threatens you? They start disappearing one by one. He’s given a silent order across the whole Union.

“If anyone even thinks about getting close to her — they better have their grave ready.”

4. How He Sees the Pregnancy:

It’s guilt mixed with obsession. When he sees your belly, his eyes freeze for a second. Because there’s a life inside you — his life — and he’s still struggling to believe something so pure could come from someone like him.

“If I were someone cleaner… maybe we could’ve really had this together.”

Still, his hands always go to your stomach. Every time he touches you, it’s careful. Gentle. Like he thinks you might break.

5. He Cuts You Off From the World:

The closer it gets to your due date, the more he isolates you. Friends? Family? Opinions? None of it matters to him.

“I don’t care what anyone says. If something happens to you… I’ll burn the f*cking world down.”

6. “Family” Becomes Real for the First Time:

Baekjin never had warmth growing up. Never had a real home. But now? Now the idea of building a house — not a place, but a feeling — with you and the baby is something he clings to in the dark. One night, he says without thinking:

“If someone had hugged me growing up… maybe I could’ve loved as good as you do.”

7. After the Baby’s Born:

He’s a wall. Cold, distant. But always there. He won’t hold the baby and coo over it, no. But he stands by the crib at night while you sleep, silently watching the tiny hand curled around his finger.

“Would it be okay… if I picked the name?”

⸻

Ahn Suho

1. When He Finds Out:

Shocked. Eyes wide. “Wait, what? Are you serious?! We’re PREGNANT?!”

At first, it doesn’t compute. He asks you to repeat it like three times. Then his hands start shaking. He might even tear up.

“I’m… I’m gonna be a dad? For real?!”

His first reaction is pure joy — mixed with straight-up panic. He wants to pick you up and spin you around, but the moment you say “Stop, I’m nauseous!” he freezes and immediately puts you down.

2. Ridiculously Affectionate:

He flips into “mom mode” in two seconds. Tries cooking for you, watches YouTube videos on pregnancy massages, double-checks every corner of the house like “is this safe for her? for the baby?”

“No more junk food. Less salt. Sit down, feet up. This baby’s not stressing you out!”

3. Fighting His Own Demons:

Deep down, he thinks, “I didn’t have a good childhood… what if I mess this up too?”

But he never says it out loud. He just holds you at night and whispers to your belly:

“If I raise this baby with someone like you… maybe I won’t mess it up.”

4. Emotional Rollercoaster:

Your hormones? Yeah, his are worse. You cry, he cries. You snap, he sulks — but then brings you a fruit bowl with a pouty face. One time, you probably ended up ugly crying together while eating stuffed grape leaves.

5. Silent Jealousy:

If he sees you talking to another guy? His whole vibe shifts. He won’t say anything, but the pout, the slumped shoulders, the quiet little stares — they’re all there.

“Go out if you want, just… wear something warm. And text me. At every step. I just— I worry, okay?”

6. The Birth Itself:

Sweating. Shaking. Crying. Loving. If they let him in the room, he’s right there, holding your hand like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. If they don’t — he’s on his knees outside the door, praying like his whole soul’s in it.

“You’re both okay, right? Please… that’s all I need.”

⸻

Yeon Si-eun

1. When He Finds Out:

His brain literally freezes for a second before it starts processing. When you say “I’m pregnant,” Si-eun just stares at you in silence. No yelling. No running. No hugs. His hands tremble a little.

“How long has it been? Are you okay? How many weeks?”

He hides his emotions — but every question screams, “I’m scared to death of losing you.”

2. Switches to Practical, Strategic Dad Mode:

Hospital? Booked. Doctor? Researched. Nutrition? Charted. Stress? Monitored.

“You’re not eating anything on this list. I’m serious.”

But also:

“But… if you’re craving something… I kinda snuck in a little chocolate. Please don’t be mad.”

3. He Suppresses Emotion, But Never Leaves You Alone:

He didn’t grow up with love, so he genuinely has no clue how to treat you or the baby. But one thing’s for sure: he’s not going anywhere.

He’s not the jealous type — but he is controlling. He won’t say “who did you hang out with?” but he’ll definitely check your phone later and mentally profile anyone who could hurt you.

“Don’t see anyone who might stress you out. Please. Not for me — for our child.”

⸻

Kang Woo-young

1. When He Finds Out:

Silence. Eyes on the floor. Then suddenly, his breath catches. He doesn’t say a word at first — just stares blankly. But if you look closely, you’ll see he literally forgot how to breathe.

“…I’m gonna be a dad?”

His voice shakes, but he tries to play it off. His jaw clenches.

“Okay. I’ll… I’ll figure this out. Just give me a little time.”

And then he leaves — not because he doesn’t care, but because he never planned to build a family. It was always just you and him. But later that night, he comes back. Finds you asleep, puffy-eyed from crying. Slips into bed behind you, holds you tight, buries his face in your neck.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone. No matter what… I’m here.”

2. Shows Love Through Actions, Not Words:

He can’t cook soup, but he’ll leave water by your bed every night. He can’t write you poetry, but he’ll tie your shoelaces without a word. And the first time your belly starts to show, his eyes well up.

“God, this is so weird. But so beautiful.”

3. Protection Style:

Quiet But Deadly.

Someone bumped into you? Woo-young doesn’t say a word. But a few days later, you’ll hear that guy got beat half to death in some underground ring.

He promises no more fights — “for the baby.” But of course he still does it.

4. Obsessed With Your Belly — But Too Shy To Show It:

His eyes keep drifting to your stomach when he talks to you. But he’s too shy to touch it. One night, you place his hand there — and he literally forgets how to breathe. His fingers tremble.

“Did you really love me this much?”

That night, for the first time, he rests his head on your belly and whispers for hours:

“Don’t be like your mom. She’s too soft. This world’s harsh.”

5. Emotional Breakdowns: Silent Crying:

As your pregnancy progresses, every time he feels like he’s not doing enough, tears fall. But he hides in the bathroom so you won’t see.

“I have to be strong. For both of you.”

6. Day of the Birth:

Looks like he just stepped out of a street fight. Doesn’t yell at the doctors, but the fire in his eyes says enough.

7. Fatherhood:

He can’t stop the baby from crying. Can’t change a diaper right. But every single night, he stays up beside the crib. He lets you cry in his lap without saying a word.

“You don’t have to be scared. I’m right here. Always.”

⸻

Oh Beom-seok

1. When He Finds Out:

Stares blankly. He thinks you’re joking at first.

“Wait… are you serious? From me? Like, really…?”

Then his voice breaks. His eyes fill up, but he tries not to cry. Honestly? His world crashes down. Because his dad… well, you know. And it’s not about what’ll happen to him — it’s the fear of something happening to you or the baby.

“I’m gonna… be a dad?”

His voice cracks saying it. Because his father made sure the word “dad” left a scar on his soul.

2. Wants To Run — But Can’t:

In his head: “I’m someone who doesn’t know love, who grew up on violence, who shuts everyone out. What do I have to do with someone like you?”

But leaving you would be death to him. So instead, he goes quiet. Closes in on himself.

“I don’t want to hurt you… so I might keep my distance for a while. But I won’t leave. I promise.”

3. Blames Himself Deeply:

Lays in bed staring at the ceiling every night.

“What if I turn out like him? What if I am him?”

4. Hyper Emotional, Super Fragile:

Every time you’re tired, he blames himself. Don’t feel like eating? He tears up, thinking he messed something up.

“I can’t stand seeing you upset. I’ve already been so awful… don’t turn into me.”

To him, your pregnant body feels sacred. Sometimes he can’t even touch you.

“You’re carrying something inside you now. I don’t even wanna accidentally hurt you. I’m scared.”

6. The Birth:

He breaks. Shaking. Sitting in some hospital hallway, hands covering his face, sobbing like the world’s ending.

“Please… God, please don’t take her from me.”

7. Fatherhood:

Slow, but deeply tender. Doesn’t know how to hold a baby. But watches over yours every second of the night. Talks to the baby while you sleep.

And one day, watching the two of you together — he smiles. For the first time. A real, slow, genuine smile.

“I thought I had no place in this world. But… you gave me a room in it.”

⸻

Go Hyun-tak

1. When He Finds Out:

This man goes feral. In a good way. Just stands there with this shocked, joy-filled smile, completely speechless. Then suddenly:

“Wait WHAT? OUR baby? PROJECT LEBRON JAMES BEGINS!”

2. Protective Soft Side Comes Out:

He shows up for every single doctor’s appointment. Tries to learn everything he can. At home, he leaves little surprises — hot soup, a fruit plate, a stack of pillows. But he does it shyly, almost embarrassed.

“You feeling okay matters more to me than anything.”

3. His Excitement Is Contagious:

Shopping for the baby? He treats it like a mission. Toys, clothes, the perfect paint color for the nursery — he’s got opinions.

“Our baby’s gonna sleep in the nicest room on the block, alright?”

4. Tiny Panic Attacks — But He Bounces Back:

He sometimes spirals like “what if we’re not ready?” But then breathes in, looks at you, and says:

“We’re in this together. No matter what. We’ve got this.”

5. Jealousy Is Soft & Silly:

Sees you chatting with another guy? Pouts a little. Then immediately smiles again.

“Sorry… I just. You’re kinda my whole world.”

6. Birth Time = Full Support Mode:

He’s right beside you, holding your hand, hyping you up with every push.

“You’re strong. I’m right here.”

When the baby cries for the first time, he’s standing right there, trying to feed it with trembling hands.

“Look at our tiny Lebron James.”

7. Dives Into Dad Life Fast:

He’s hungry to learn. Wakes up for every night feeding, writes down every little milestone.

“We’re building something new. You, me, and our baby. It’s gonna be amazing.”

⸻

Park Humin (Baku)

1. When He Finds Out:

He screams. For real. Like he just scored the game-winning goal in the final second. Pure, goofy, chaotic happiness.

2. A Little Insecure:

His relationship with his dad? Yeah. Complicated as hell. He’s terrified of telling him, and even more scared he might turn into him. Just like Beom-seok, he fears becoming a bad father.

3. Quiet, Emotional Protection:

With you? He’s tough. Out in public? He smiles and holds your hand like you’re fragile glass.

“No one’s touching you. Baku’s right here.”

But when he’s alone, his chest aches with the memories of his dad.

4. Tiny Surprises & Care:

You’re tired? He sets up cute little things around the house. Brings your favorite dessert. Buys fresh chicken from your favorite spot.

“I know this isn’t easy… but we’ve got this. Together.”

5. Jealousy & Trust:

Sees you talking to other guys? His eyes tear up — but he never says a word. Keeps it buried.

“Just… understand me, okay? I just wanna protect you.”

6. During Birth:

Nervous as hell but stands strong. His palms sweat like crazy, but he holds your hand the whole time.

“You’re gonna be okay. You and the baby — you’re both okay.”

7. Fatherhood:

Soft. Steady. Scared. But loving. He’s clumsy at first, scared to touch the baby. But he never leaves your side. Stands by the crib every night.

“I’m not just here for you anymore. I’m here for them too.”

[thatonegrimm]

Hello !! I love your writing style and the stories you write so so much, the one where manager!reader had to teach the boys how to use a phone was so so funny, thank you for writing :)

Could I request manager!reader getting jealous of the saja boys? It sounds so cliche but I really wanna see their manager getting all pouty and sulky when they see the boys interact with a fan or huntr/x in a specfic way!!

Maybe a fan was touching them too much to the point where its really becoming too excessive and their manager was starting to get pissed off but when they look back at the boys just smiling at said fan, they think 'Oh. Ok fine i was getting sll worked up over nothing wtv guys'. Or they see clips of saja boys x huntr/x getting all chummy and teasing eachother(or threatening to end one another), their manager feels ache in their heart and they cant quite distinguish the cause.

Anw!! thats my req :D sorry if its a little long</3 Make sure you drink enough water and get enough sleep btw!

HELLO!! 💖 First of all—thank you SO MUCH for your kind words!! Seriously, hearing that you loved the phone fic means the world to me 😭💕 I am honored to deliver manager!reader chaos at your service.

(Also thank you for the reminder to drink water—I desperately needed it)

🌙Saja Boys x Jealous!Manager Reader

It’s not personal. You’re just their manager. You just happen to want to throw a clipboard at anyone who touches them.

--------------------------------------

🧿 Jinu

You’re watching the fan meeting from the sidelines, trying to stay focused on timing and cue cards.

Then it happens.

A fan leans in, gets too close, touches Jinu’s sleeve—twice. She giggles and brushes her fingers up his arm. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t recoil. Just gives that quiet, tight smile like he’s trying to be gracious.

You feel your stomach turn.

You glance back at your clipboard. Re-read the same sentence three times. Pretend not to see it when the fan puts a sticker on his cheek and he doesn’t even flinch.

You tell yourself it’s fine. He’s fine. This is your job.

Still, when he passes you afterward, your tone is short. Clipped. Tense.

“Make sure to sanitize before the next group.”

Jinu hesitates, then follows you. Quietly.

Later, backstage:

“Are you upset with me?” he asks gently.

“No. Just... managing things.”

He tilts his head. “You looked upset. When she touched me.”

You freeze.

He watches you for a second longer, then, voice lower:

“I didn’t enjoy it. You know that, right?”

You blink. “You smiled.”

“I was being polite. But if it had been anyone else, I’d have said something.”

Your heart skips.

“And if it had been you... I wouldn’t have needed to.”

--------------------------------------

💪 Abby 

You’re doing post-show rounds when a fan wraps her arms around Abby like she knows him. Like they’re friends. Her hands press low against his back, lingering.

He hesitates—just a second—but his natural instinct kicks in. He smiles. Says thank you. Doesn’t pull away immediately.

You do.

“Okay, folks, let’s move it along,” you call out, voice a little too loud.

Abby doesn’t say anything at first.

But later, while you’re sorting backstage logistics, he appears next to you with two bottled waters and a slightly furrowed brow.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No. Of course not.”

“You seemed... mad. When that fan hugged me.”

You pause. Avoid his eyes. “It was too much. That’s all.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Then offers the water like a peace offering.

“I didn’t like it either,” he says, almost shyly.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“I didn’t want to make things weird. But I should’ve.”

Then—so softly you almost miss it:

“You always notice stuff like that. It makes me feel really... cared for.”

You blink.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Is it okay if I care back?”

You don’t answer. You just take the water—and let your fingers brush his on purpose.

--------------------------------------

📚 Mystery 

You’re reviewing fan footage. Just checking social engagement. Totally normal manager stuff.

Then the clip plays.

Mystery standing beside Zoey during a group shoot. She nudges his shoulder. He smirks. She laughs. He looks at her like she said something clever, and your heart clenches.

You pause the video. Rewind. Watch it again.

“It’s fine,” you whisper to yourself. “It’s just work. They’re professionals.”

But something aches. The way he looked at her—it was barely a change, but you’ve watched him long enough to notice the difference.

You shut your laptop harder than necessary.

Later, while you’re handing out notes, he hovers beside you.

“Your energy’s off,” he murmurs.

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t push.

But that night, he finds you alone on the rooftop, headphones in. You pretend not to notice him until he sits beside you, silent.

“I don’t smile at them like I smile at you,” he says softly.

You freeze.

“I know you saw it. But it wasn’t the same.”

You don’t know what to say.

He leans in just slightly.

“If you want me to stop being close with them, I will.”

“Why?”

“Because I like how you look when you’re jealous. And I like how I feel when I see you watching.”

--------------------------------------

💋 Romance 

You’ve always known Romance flirts. It’s his whole deal.

But there’s something different about the way he interacts with Huntrix. The banter with Mira. The way he tosses his head back laughing when Rumi calls him dramatic. The gentle way he calls Zoey “sunshine.”

It’s not fake. That’s what’s killing you.

You try to play it cool, but your answers get shorter. You dodge eye contact when he winks. You stop bantering back.

He notices.

Oh, he notices.

After a press event, he corners you near the exit, gaze sharp.

“You’re quieter lately.”

“Busy,” you lie.

“Liar,” he purrs, stepping closer. “You saw the videos, didn’t you?”

You shrug.

He leans in.

“You know none of them can get under my skin like you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter.

His smile fades for half a second.

Then he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, voice velvet and low:

“Then let me prove it. One night. No cameras. Just you and me. Say yes, and I’ll forget every name that isn’t yours.”

You pretend to scoff.

But your pulse is thundering.

--------------------------------------

🔥 Baby

You know Baby gets fan attention. He’s got that whole dangerous-pretty-boy thing going.

But today? It crosses a line.

Someone flirts with him. Obvious. Bold. Says something that makes you blush just hearing it.

And Baby smirks back.

You feel like someone just hit you with a fire extinguisher to the chest.

You pretend not to care. Pretend not to flinch when they brush past you. Pretend not to feel that sting when he just stands there and lets it happen.

Later, you pull him aside. Not in anger—just to regroup. To reset.

“Be careful with that,” you say, quieter than usual.

“With what?”

“Flirting. Fans get attached.”

He watches you for a moment. Says nothing.

Then he pulls something out of his pocket. A note. Folded.

“They gave me this.”

You don’t look at it.

He drops it in the trash.

“I didn’t keep it. Didn’t want to.”

You blink.

He shrugs, scowling a little.

“Why would I, when you’re the only person who actually makes me feel anything?”

You open your mouth.

He walks away before you can reply.

Later, you find your name saved in his phone under “🔥 REAL ONE.”

--------------------------------------

M-List

[cloudcountry]

how would they react to mc giving them a nickname fitting to the one they give you? like clover for towa, prince for haku, d̶e̶l̶i̶n̶q̶u̶e̶n̶t̶ f̶o̶r̶ l̶e̶o̶ for example? towa, haku, haru, lyca, jin, jiro (for jiro i imagine something in complete opposition to the monster/frankenstein names hes called)

SUMMARY: you give them an affectionate pet name ... how do they react?

COMMENTS: i only write for five characters in a request so i kicked jin off. couldnt come up w a nickname for him anyway...he'll be fine. (✿◡‿◡) i wrote these with romantic undertones!!

The first time you call Haru sunshine he almost doesn’t process it fully. Runs out the door with a swift bahnti! and comes back no less than twenty seconds later after checking half the exhibits to frantically ask you if he was hallucinating.

This is one of the best things that has ever happened to him. He lights up when you confirm that you gave him such a sweet nickname—this means he’s special to you, right? Well you’re special to him too!

If you dare, the next time you call him that, you should pair it with a soft laugh and a gentle touch on his bicep. He’s gone. Haru is a lovesick puddle on the floor!

Towa’s dramatic ass is never letting you live this down. You called him clover? He’d better be your four leaf one. And yes, he does mean your four lead clover, who else’s? (Don’t say Haru, he'll pout at you.)

The thing is, Towa will take this as a sign that he can cling to you all he wants and get away with it. Who is going to stop him? Coriander can’t, Haru won’t, Wolfsbane just gags and leaves you to your cuddly fate.

Be ready to tell him how great he is and shower him the compliments he so obviously craves. Pair it with your soft touch and he’ll drop his whole body weight onto you like an oversized cat.

Haku is seconds away from pulling a just kidding out of his ass, but the words get caught in his throat when you call him your prince. You’re playing along with him for the very first time—what a rush.

Despite the fact that he was the first one to give you a nickname, he laughs it off and reminds me that most guys would take that the wrong way, so you should be careful. Right, because he isn’t taking it the wrong way. Of course. He’s so normal about this.

Haku, to his core, is another lovesick boy. You do strange things to his heart and even if he tries to play it off as a joke, he really does think you’re cute. Maybe it’s fate that he met you—now if only he could save you from your curse like a proper prince.

Something simple is most effective with Lyca! Call him hon or sweetpea and watch him perk up. He does find it a bit embarrassing (and he’ll bite Edward’s head off if he says anything) but don't stop.

He naturally takes care of you—making sure you’re eating enough, buying you little things he knows you like, paying for your food—so getting that extra pet name boost is like a genuine award to him.

Honestly, he might take it as platonic at first. Lyca is a bit dense in matters of the heart, but once he goes to Subaru and has to watch as his face dawns in understanding, maybe he will understand too.

The first time you called Jiro angel, it was offhanded. You’re not sure why it slipped out. Much to your relief he simply hands you what you were asking for and walks off. You’re left standing there in front of one of Mortkranken’s lab tables with the taste of angel still on your tongue.

Later, Yuri storms up to you and starts hollering about public displays of affection and indecency, lecturing you thoroughly. It’s so much that you can barely get a word in. It isn’t until Jiro and you cross paths again that you realize what happened.

Jiro, point blank, tells you he asked Yuri for clarification on why you had called him angel. It obviously isn’t a bad thing, and he is familiar with nicknames, but no one has called him something so kind before. (Psst, he likes it.)

[ak319]

A.M x fem!reader ─ 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 (𝐁𝐲 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐰𝐛𝐨𝐲)

Warnings/MDNI: fluff, a little angst, emotional too? it touched me a lot though 😭, reader is preggo, arthur is paranoid af even from trees--to the point of losing his mind- Syno: Arthur meets an old lady, and his greatest fears are left ruffled. he isn't going back to normal now. +++ it's kind of a self-indulgent oneshot based on things I heard growing up, hehe. Arthur pic by Caramello on Pin.

┆ ⤿ ❀ m.list

He’d found her near the fork in the trail, hunched by a busted wheel and muttering curses. Old, but not frail, her eyes were sharp and her tongue sharper as she waved him down like he was late to something.

"You! Boy!"

Arthur slowed his horse, brow raised. "Ma’am."

"You got hands, don’t you? Good. Help me get this damned thing back on the axle before I throw it in the creek."

He could’ve ridden past. Should’ve, maybe. But something about her tone, bossy, impatient, proud , reminded him of you.

So he dismounted without a word and started working. Took him fifteen minutes, a few grunts, and one splinter, but the wheel was back in place. The old woman clucked her tongue like she approved, but didn’t say thanks.

"Figured it was a good day for helping folks," Arthur said, brushing his hands off on his pants.

She squinted at him. "You from these parts?"

"Not really."

"Got family?"

He hesitated, blushing. "Sort of."

She nodded, like she knew what that meant. "You’re not law, are you?"

He smirked faintly. "No, ma’am."

"Good. I don’t like ‘em. Too nosy."

That made him chuckle under his breath. "Ain’t got much reason to like 'em myself."

She jerked her head toward the bench on the cart. "Come on. You’re ridin’ with me to the river. Least you can do after helpin’ is keep me from dyin’ of boredom."

He didn’t argue. He helped her up, then climbed in beside her.

She started talking before the horse even took a step.

And that’s how, somewhere between a crooked mile and a winding bend, Arthur learned about her niece , about the girl’s sadness, the things she shouldn’t have done, and all the things her husband failed to do. He didn’t say much. Just listened.

"Lost the baby," she said, matter-of-fact. "Girl didn’t take care of herself properly. Started acting odd, too. Very...odd. Wouldn’t eat. Wouldn't talk. Spent a lot of her time in her garden, alone. Quiet, under trees."

Arthur glanced sideways. "What’s trees got to do with it?"

"You don’t get all pretty, dolled up and sit under them, especially when the sun's goin' down. Pulls in bad stuff y'know. Makes the air heavy. Don’t hang clothes under open sky for long either, or leave hairbrushes lying around. They attract things. The old folks always said so."

Arthur nodded slowly, like he wasn’t paying attention, but he was already filing each word away.

No trees. No clothes hanging. Put the brush away.

"She sat in the dark too much. Alone. Cryin���. That’s no good. You sit in the dark, you invite things you don’t understand. You keep a house with warmth and sound in it. Laughter. Music. Light."

He looked down at his hands. You’d cried last night. Quiet, somewhere alone in the camp, when no one was looking, thought he wouldn't know. He knew because your eyes were swollen a bit too much when you had lain down beside him at night. Upon questioning , you had refused to answer him which led to an argument.

Dammit, I am a fuckin' bastard.

"Her husband was useless," the woman added with a sniff. "Didn’t even talk to the baby, didn’t keep her company. A woman carryin’ life needs love louder than the fear in her head. Needs someone holdin’ her hand more often than not."

Arthur swallowed hard, his jaw clenching out of instinct.

All this time, he’d been so focused on saving for the future , for the child, for safety, for the mess the gang might leave behind , that he hadn’t realized he was already failing at the most important part.

Being there.

Being present.

Being a father now, not just later.

"She was always angry before the baby passed," she said more gently. "You can’t sleep angry. That sort of feeling gets into everything. Into the child, even. Husband should smooth her hair, put a hand on her belly. Say good words. Doesn’t matter which ones. What matters is how he says ‘em."

"Right," Arthur murmured, jaw tight. "Got it."

"And feed her fruit. Good fruit. Give her water from your own cup once a day. Makes the child feel known. And keep her off her feet when the wind’s wrong."

Arthur looked up. "When the wind’s wrong?"

"You’ll know when it is. If you love her."

She patted his arm as he helped her climb down the wagon. "Men think protecting a woman is about killin’ things for her. Sometimes, it’s just makin’ sure she eats right and don’t cry alone."

She looked at him , really looked and said, "You got a woman carryin' your child, don’t you?"

Arthur blinked with a faint smile, his neck once again going red. "...Mhm...wife."

"Then go home, boy," she said, reaching out to straighten the fold of his shirt like he was twelve. "And stop leaving her alone with her sadness. You ain’t just protectin’ her body. You’re protectin’ the world you’ll both live in once that baby arrives. Make sure it’s one she wants to stay in."

He was left speechless and...heavy with an uncountable amount of feelings. He stood there a minute longer after she was gone, then rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

When Arthur got back to camp, he didn’t waste time.

Didn't greet anyone. Didn’t even scold Sean like usual when the boy hollered something about the horse looking tired.

No, he went straight to you.

You were sitting by the fire, poking at your plate, looking exhausted and a little distant, like you’d been left alone with your thoughts too long. You’d been doing that a lot these days. Same quiet place. Same untouched food. Same hollowness behind your eyes.

And it wasn’t like you.

Not you, who used to slam down your fork when dinner was cold. Who used to bite back at Dutch, roll her eyes at everyone, and make jokes, insult John like a hobby, to make Abigail smile. You loved poking people for fun not a piece of meat on a plate.

But now…

Now you just sat there. Under the dark sky, firelight soft against your skin, shadows deep under your eyes.

And you looked alone.

Arthur’s throat closed up.

Camp was still moving. Bill and Javier were somewhere near the wagons. Mary-Beth was chatting with Tilly. Uncle and Sean were probably off yelling about something that didn’t matter. You were surrounded by people.

And yet, he had never seen someone look so alone in a crowd.

His vision blurred for a second. He blinked fast, looking away, dragging a hand down his face as if that’d somehow fix what he was feeling. His chest ached in a quiet, unbearable way.

He’d been too focused on everything else. And there you were. His girl. His wife. The mother of his child. Sitting right in the middle of it all, still feeling like nobody saw her.

He swore under his breath, quiet, and started walking toward you before his legs could second-guess it.

He wasn’t about to let you sit in the dark by yourself another damn minute.

Arthur squatted down in front of you, his big hand sliding over your knee, startling you. "You eat?"

"Um...hi?". You shrugged. "And yeah, a...little."

"Not enough."

Before you could argue, he plucked an apple from his bag, one he’d bought on the ride back, carefully picking the ripest one like it was mission critical, and set it in your palm. "Eat it."

You blinked at him. "What are you doing?"

"Feedin' you."

"I know but-"

"You’re gonna eat it," he said firmly, already brushing crumbs off your lap and pulling your legs gently into his. "Ain’t no harm in lettin’ me fuss over you a little."

You squinted at him, suspicious. "What’s got you so-"

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, holding the back of your neck to calm himself. "J-us'---jus' heard some things today."

"About...what?"

"About how a woman in your condition oughta be cared for. And how I ain’t been doin’ enough of it."

You frowned, but you bit into the apple anyway.

Arthur sat back, watching you like you might disappear if he looked away. His hand absent-mindedly rubbed your shin, his thumb circling the spot where you’d complained about aching last night to Karen.

...You’d even stopped sharing your problems with him.... Whether it was because you didn’t think he was worthy of them anymore, or you just didn’t want to be a burden, he didn’t know. But he knew one thing. He didn’t like it

Slowly chewing, you spoke up, "You’re acting strange."

"Yeah, well," he muttered, "guess I figured out I ain't just protectin' you from guns and bad men. I gotta protect you from bein' sad. From bein’ tired. From...feelin' like you gotta do this alone."

You stared at him, gulping.

He caught the look and clicked his tongue. "Don’t go gettin' all weepy on me now. I'm still mad you didn't finish your lunch."

"You sound like...Uncle Hosea."

"Good. He’s smarter than me, always has been." He brushed your hair behind your ear, voice dropping as he added, "Also, always put your brush away. And we’re sleepin’ with the lamp on. No arguments."

Your brows shot up in confusion.

"Not arguin’," he said sweetly, cupping your face. "Just lovin’ you loud enough to drown out the fear. That’s the rule now."

You sat there for a beat too long, caught in his stare, your fingers tightening around the apple.

Finally, you mumbled, "I was fine, you don't have to."

Arthur smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "No, you weren’t. You aren't. And don’t you dare say ‘you didn’t have to’ or ‘don’t do it’, not to me, you silly girl." His voice dropped, softer, but firm. "Who else’s job is it, huh? Mhm? You should’ve beat my sorry ass to make me do it sooner. Don't think you ain't a priority of mine, not...more important than the gang. You are...I jus' never made you feel it, I guess. So be selfish, very, very selfish, ya' hear me?"

And when you slowly leaned into his chest with your eyes glistening, food forgotten, Arthur wrapped his arms around you like he never planned to let go.

That night, you found your brush tucked neatly away. Arthur had fussed a bit more over the fire, made sure you ate more than you could even, and massaged your feet till you dozed off.

All the while as he just shrugged and muttered, "Wind’s wrong." He pulled you onto his chest, his big hand resting over your belly like it was the most natural thing in the world. No words. Just the warmth of his palm, the steady hum of his breath, and the soft glow of the lamp in the tent, he absolutely refused to turn off.

Because love protects in ways no gun ever could.

And you were delusional to think it wouldn't get much more than this...

❀˖°

You hadn’t even been under the damn tree for five minutes.

The breeze was soft, sun low, and you’d just finished pinning your hair up the way you liked, a little loose, a little elegant, with one of the new combs Arthur brought back from town. You smelled like rosewater from your bath. Felt good for once, onto some evening reading. Fresh and light, pretty, settled, calm.

Which is exactly when you heard thundering footsteps.

"Hey!" Arthur’s voice cracked through camp like a whip. "Get up."

You looked over your shoulder slowly, like you were dreaming. There he was, stomping across the clearing like a man possessed. Hat crooked from running. Eyes locked on you like you'd personally offended him.

"...What did I do now?" you asked flatly.

"You're sittin' under a tree."

"So?"

"So?!" he panted, stopping a few feet from you, "you look... like that."

You blinked. "L-like what?"

"Like... you got your hair all done up, smell like a damn field of flowers, and you're glowin'. And you're sittin' under the one thing I was told to keep you the hell away from."

"...Arthur."

"She said don't let you near trees if you're glamoured up!" he hissed, glancing up at the branches like they were about to lunge at you.

"But I just wanted to-"

"YOU NEVER LISTEN, WOMAN! THEY NOTICE--BAD THINGS NOTICE, AND THEY'RE GONNA GET YOU! OR GET INSIDE YOU, I DUNNO! JUS' GET YOUR ASS UP!"

Your breath caught. He'd never spoken to you like that before. Never so sharp. And it scared the hell out of you.

You hadn’t meant to make a mistake. You were just tired. You wanted peace.

Your lip trembled before you could stop it. You tried to blink away the burn in your eyes, tried to breathe through the rising weight in your chest... but you couldn’t. Not this time.

That’s when Susan stormed over.

"Arthur Morgan! What in God’s name are you barkin’ about?! What could she possibly have done?"

Arthur spun to her, exasperated. "She's sittin' under a fuckin' tree!"

"And?!"

"And she ain’t supposed to! Not when she’s all pretty and perfumed and-" He gestured toward you, like that explained everything.

Susan crossed her arms. "The tree’s gonna gobble her up, is it?"

Arthur clenched his jaw. "That ain’t the point! It ain’t safe. Evil, horror things--I dunno!"

But Susan’s eyes had already flicked back to you. She saw the tears brimming, the way your shoulders were shaking.

And then it happened.

You broke.

A sob tore from your throat as you covered your face, crying in spite of yourself.

Susan’s expression softened. "Oh, sweetheart, are you alright? Ignore him."

Arthur’s heart plummeted.

In two strides, he was in front of you, crouching down low, voice suddenly low and raw. "Hey. No, no, c’mere. I ain’t mad at you, alright? I’m just--hell, I’m scared. I didn’t mean to yell."

But you were already leaning into Susan, hiding in her arms as you cried harder.

Arthur’s hands hovered before gently cupping your chin, coaxing your gaze to his. "I ain’t scared of much," he whispered, eyes glistening, "but losin’ you? I’d burn down every tree in the damn country if it meant keepin’ you safe."

Susan shook her head, fighting a smile. "Well, now you’ve done it. She’s crying, and it’s your fault."

Arthur didn’t look away from you. "I’m so sorry, darlin'. Look at me."

You blinked up at him through tears. He brushed your jaw with his thumb, then pressed a long kiss to your forehead, staying there like he could kiss away the world.

"Lemme walk you back, alright? No more trees today."

You hiccupped quietly. "I w-was co-mfortable."

Arthur smiled softly. "I’ll build you a chair outta blankets and hold your hand the whole damn time. Deal?"

You nodded, finally leaning into his chest.

Susan chuckled as she walked off. "Lord, you two’ll give me gray hair."

Arthur murmured against your temple, "Mine’ll go first at this rate," and then added under his breath, "Damn old ladies… damn gorgeous woman… damn hauntin’ trees…"

He tugged you up gently by the hand, draped his jacket over your shoulders like a shield, and guided you back toward the tents, never letting go.

Now everyone was sure that...

Arthur was absolutely gonna start carrying an axe from now on.

Just in case.

Which made him target of stupid ass jokes from Bill , Sean and John like...

'Oi, Arthur! Need us to put up a fence around the trees for ya? Keep the lady safe from wild bark and seductive leaves?'

'Should we start packin’ flowers around her bed too? Maybe get her a tree-repellent candle?'

Even Dutch-"Boy, have I ever told you how proud I am? Chivalry. Romance. Tree-related overreactions. That’s what this gang needs more of."

"Dammit" Arthur closed his eyes like he was praying for patience. "I ain’t never talkin’ to old women again."

"You will," you said sweetly, "especially if they give more advice about how to treat me like royalty."

The camp howled.

Arthur gave up, dragging a hand over his face and shaking his head, but not before pressing a kiss to your temple again, just to shut them all up for a moment.

He didn't mind the notion at all. If that makes you happy and safe. Old people spoke wisdom anyway.

Two days later, you sat by the fire, reaching for knife to help Susan with chopping veggies for stew when-

Arthur appeared like a storm cloud.

He had said no things sharp.

And so he didn’t even speak. Just slowly pulled the knife from your hand, gave Susan a look of deep apology, and started chopping himself.

"Sharp things," he said solemnly. "Not today."

Also, did you mention how he tied a makeshift ribbon on your wrist made from his handkerchief? Soft. So that way, even when he isn't here, you know he's close. To you both.

❀˖°

By the end of the week, the notebook had:

A tally of how many times you sneezed

A small doodle of the tree you sat under (labeled 'Dangerous Shady Bastard')

A list titled "Food Cravings Approved / Denied"

Goose eggs cooked over a fire (ticked).

Well, this made you remember how he was chased down while stealing them, and you're laughing the whole time while Arthur’s yelling, "it ain’t funny, damnit!"

Pickled beets (ticked)

Blackberries (ticked)

Stagecoach jerky from Sean (crossed)

Whatever the hell that "river cheese" was (crossed)

One page that just read:

"Combing her damn luscious hair while sittin' under trees = VERY BAD. DO NOT REPEAT."

You’d tried to ignore it. You really did.

But on the eighth day, after Arthur pressed a warm hand to your forehead because you sniffled once, wrote 'Chill in air?' and asked if Dutch’s cologne was 'too strong for the baby,' you finally cracked.

"Arthur!" you burst, snatching the notebook.

"You gonna scold me for protectin’ my family?" he asked, full cowboy martyr eyes.

You stared at the page.

He’d drawn a tiny picture of you. Next to it, he’d written:

Don’t let her sleep mad. Night’s too long to carry anger. If she breathes funny, check her pulse. If she walks fast, carry her. If she rolls her eyes, kiss her.

Your face softened.

"…You’re so-"

Arthur grinned, not even letting you finish as he pulled you snug to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around your waist. "Yeah. In love. I know."

You tried to squirm, only half-heartedly. "And you’re gonna give yourself a stroke if you keep this up. You’re making me worried now!"

Instead of easing off, he simply leaned in, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like he was trying to melt into your skin. His voice was soft, all gravel and affection.

"Then I’ll die holdin’ this dumb little notebook and you."

You let out a snort, muffled as you buried your smile in his collar. "God help me. You’re gonna be so much worse when the baby’s here."

Arthur shifted then, gently pushing you back onto the bedroll, his body following yours like instinct. His weight was warm and grounding, his hand sliding behind your head as the other pulled the blanket up over both of you. He laid half on top of you, protective and lazy, like a man who had no intention of leaving.

"Oh, I already got a whole second notebook ready for that, sweetheart," he murmured smugly against your cheek.

You paused, squinting up at him. "What--Arthur."

He kissed your lips, slow and indulgent, like punctuation.

"Color-coded."

"Off the rails, aren't you?."

"For you," he said with zero shame, kissing the tip of your nose before resting his forehead to yours.

Then, softer, almost sheepish, "I just wanna do right by you. And the kid. Even if it means not sleepin’ and keepin’ track of how many times you throw a pillow at me."

You blinked slowly, the lump rising in your throat making it hard to speak.

Arthur kissed your jaw, then your wrist, then held your hand right over his chest, where his heartbeat thudded steady beneath your palm.

"I ain’t lettin’ a damn thing touch both of you," he whispered. "Not worry, not fear, not even a rough patch in camp. You hear me?"

You nodded, tucking yourself closer into his arms, his weight like armor and his words like prayer.

tag list: @sensitivegamergirl

[themoderatespeaks]

I think the immediate value of these (very correct) arguments is that we need to stop making our fight be about the normal human beings who elected Trump and his sycophants. The normal human beings in Congress who obey his every command. The normal human beings who just cannot conceive of reading news sources any further left than the Daily Wire or Fox News and are therefore getting a completely different version of events than you are. They are where they are because Trump and everyone pulling his strings have successfully made them too afraid to do anything else. They are scared too. You and I would be in the exact same place if circumstances had been a little different.

Republicans are not the enemy. The enemy is the enemy. Stop fighting the people who are intelligent enough to realize that, at the very least, something is Not Right and the Trump administration cannot be allowed to continue the way it is doing now. When all they hear from you is that they're irredeemably evil, it just reinforces their preconceptions that it's not safe to break rank and join with you in protecting this republic. It also reinforces their impression that your arguments are going to be as ridiculous as your assumptions about their motives, so there's no point in listening.

The bottom line is that we need as many Americans as possible pushing back against the things Trump is doing to this country and its people. The "strategy" of treating your potential allies as The Enemy is not working.

Someone was asking in a thread what kind of people could work for ICE right now.

I think it's a good time to remember that the image above are the people who put children into gas chambers.

When I was little, I asked what kind of person could work at a concentration camp.

The answer to both questions I think is "normal people who have accepted the dehumanization of another group of people."