#apologies for not having comforting words

[edenfenixblogs]

Oh dear.

So, for the first time since I made my additions to this post, I noticed that @the-chickenshit-oddity posted these delightful tags before 10/7.

I thought I’d check in on if they kept any interest in learning about Jewish culture and practices since then. The answer is a resounding no.

Unfortunately @the-chickenshit-oddity posted, among many other posts, this:

I want to make a plea for understanding directly to @the-chickenshit-oddity without any ill will and in total good faith. Please read what I am about to write with an open mind.

While I am annoyed to have to say this yet again, I am not a Zionist.

That said? Most Jews are. It is Holocaust inversion to call Jews Nazis, and it is incredibly callous and dangerous. Nazism’s foundational principle is that Jews are evil vermin who should be exterminated. People who support bad things can be bad in other ways without being called the worst possible thing on this planet.

Also, if the vast majority of Jews are Zionists, is your conclusion that the vast majority of Jews support killing children? Or is it more likely that your understanding of Zionism is inherently flawed and could benefit from further study.

You went really quickly from “I don’t understand the basics of what rabbis are and what they do and how Jewish communal knowledge works” to “the vast majority of Jews are not human.” That’s disturbing. Because in your own words that is what you have said here. Zionism is Nazism > Nazis are not human ergo the vast majority of Jews are not human.

The uncomfortable truth here is that Nazis were and are human. It’s comforting to divorce your own humanity from the monstrous things that Nazis did. But the thing that makes what Nazis did so horrific is that these things were done by humans. And the vast majority of Nazis weren’t the ones carrying out terrible atrocities. The vast majority of Nazis were the ones who watched as atrocities occurred and pretended not to notice. And it was those passive Nazis that gave the violent Nazis power. Dehumanization is a tool of Nazis, and it is a tool you are currently using against Jews and that is foul.

Note: nowhere in this post have I said that I support every action Israel has taken since 10/7. And I have said elsewhere that I oppose many of the actions Israel has taken since 10/7. I am a pacifist and an advocate for peace at all times. I support a thriving and sovereign Palestine. I have spent the past 15 months developing deeper relationships within my Jewish community, learning from Palestinians and Muslims, and doing my best to educate about Judaism as a culture to help reduce the amount of hatred and violence in the world.

You seem like a person who WANTS to do good and make the world better. I respect that a great deal. The things you share on you blog have not helped Palestine, but have almost exclusively harmed Jews.

I have not seen acknowledgment from your posts (perhaps I missed it and if so I apologize) that Jews were attacked and raped and murdered and taken hostage on 10/7. I have not seen any concern for the Jewish community at all from you. I have seen concern for Palestine, which I share.

But your blog gives the impression that you view Palestinians as morally pure and Israelis as incurably evil and that dehumanizes both groups.

Palestinians did terrible things to Jews on and since 10/7. Israelis have done inconceivable damage to Palestinian life since 10/7. These are both tragedies. There are human beings on both sides. Neither side of the divide is made up of inhuman monsters who don’t deserve to be heard.

I have lost the vast majority of my non-Jewish friends because—despite my never saying a word against Palestine and despite my criticism of Israel’s tactics—they started to say and do things that resembles what you post about. They stopped seeing me as a human being simply because I expressed sorrow and rage about the events of 10/7. They stopped seeing me as a human being because I refused to call for the dissolution of the state of Israel. And then they stopped seeing me altogether.

It is an unarguable fact that antisemitism has been worse worldwide since 10/7, with diaspora Jews like me facing daily aggression in online and IRL spaces. Attacks on synagogues and Jewish communities have quadrupled. Jewish girls as young as 12 have been raped and told that “this is for Palestine.” Jews have been forbidden from participating equally in pride events. Professors have refused to accept assignments from Jews that mention Israel, even when that mention is about their own family. People have been forced to change schools and move cities due to antisemitism. I am one of those people. Students have been violently attacked for wearing Jewish star necklaces on campuses. Multiple synagogues have been firebombed. People have started organizing “Jew hunts” in European cities.

It gets worse for us literally every day. And the way you post about us is a major contributing factor in those behaviors. Your words are actively harming us. Your posts are making the world less safe for us. I have done nothing but advocate for peace and nonviolence for all. Yet I have much more in common with the Zionists you vilify than I have with you. Because nothing in Zionism requires violence, and if you spoke to more Jews you would know that. I see everyone as human. Even Hamas. Even Hezbollah. Even Nazis.

You can become defensive about this if you want. But that will only protect your ego at the expense of every Jewish person suffering from antisemitic violence and isolation right now.

Or you can apologize and try to do better, which would be the correct response.

Or you could pretend you don’t see this at all, which would make you have much more in common with the Nazis you referenced than with the brave activists you aspire to be.

Or you could allow my response to make you turn violent and aggressive toward me. Which would make you more closely aligned with the other, more famous kind of Nazi you’re imagining.

And if it makes YOU feel uncomfortable to be compared to a Nazi, imagine how awful and traumatizing it is for Jews when you do it to us.

The Holocaust is not your tragedy to weaponize or universalize. Do better. The ball is in your court.

pleaaaaaase y'all the process of having a manufacturing facility declared kosher has nothing to do with a rabbi blessing the food

pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase stop

you can literally google what is required

[hanniebaeee]

Disagreements

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: kisses? Other than that, nothing!

Genre: established relationship, fluff, angst

Summary: Hyunjin misses an event important to you, and an argument ensues. He says something he didn't mean, and he'd do anything for your forgiveness!

You stormed into the apartment, throwing your bag on the kitchen counter. The door shut behind you with an audible thud, and you heard Hyunjin sigh before he opened it and stepped inside. 

“Baby, I said I was sorry!” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and desperation.

“Hyunjin, do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” you snapped, crossing your arms and glaring at him. 

“For -” He gestured vaguely at the air between you, eyes darting everywhere but your face. “For not being there?”

“You stood me up, Hyunjin! You missed a work event I’ve been talking about for months - one I explicitly told you was important to me!” Your voice cracked, and you hated yourself for it. “It wasn’t just any event - it was my event, and you didn’t show.”

Hyunjin’s shoulders slumped, his hand running through his hair in a frantic motion.

“I didn’t mean to, okay? I thought my shoot would -”

“Your shoot? Oh my God, why is everything literally about you all the fucking time?! You couldn't have made it work, for just once?!” Your anger boiled over. “Do you have any idea how…of course you wouldn't, because I am always there. I never leave you hanging. And you just take me for granted-”

He winced, his lips parting to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting around like he was searching for a hidden escape hatch.

Hyunjin usually got away with everything. He was so used to being babied by you that this sudden outburst was scaring the hell out of him. And he really didn't have an idea how to work with it. 

“God, you’re impossible,” you muttered, turning away. “You don't even try, do you?”

Hyunjin stiffened. Because now that wasn't true. He tried. He really did.

“Is that what you think?” His words rushed out so fast, he couldn’t stop. “You really think i don't try? Oh my God! How could you say that?!”

“You proved me right, Hyunjin!”

“Babe, this was one time -”

“It's literally always-”

“If that's how you feel then maybe you should just  break up with me.”

You froze, a tear trickling down your cheek. And the silence was suffocating.

Hyunjin blinked, looking absolutely shocked. His eyes went wide as if he had only just registered what he said.

“No, wait, no -” His voice cracked. “That’s not - oh my God, I didn’t mean -”

And the sight of you staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes - your lower lip trembling - killed him. 

You said nothing. Nothing. And that? That was Hyunjin’s undoing.

“Oh my God,” he gasped, his face contorting as he covered his mouth with both hands. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.”

A sound escaped him, a weird mix between a sob and a wail, and before you could blink, he launched himself at you, wrapping you in his arms so tightly your face collided with his chest.

“I’m sorry!” he bawled, voice muffled against your hair. “I didn’t mean it - I swear I didn’t mean it. I’m such an idiot! Oh my God, baby please don't hate me! You’re perfect, and oh shit, this is a disaster -”

“Hyunjin -” you tried, voice muffled by his shirt.

“God, I hate myself!” he cried, pulling you even closer. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I said break up?! Who says that? Who even thinks that?”

His sobs grew louder, chest heaving against yours as he clutched you like you might disappear any moment.

“Hyunjin -” You sighed, hands moving to rub slow circles on his back. "Breathe, baby."

“I'm such a horrible person” he wailed, lifting his head to look at you with tear-soaked eyes. “You’re comforting me when I’m the one who hurt you! Why are you so nice?!”

You stared at him - this gorgeous, ridiculous golden retriever of a man standing in your kitchen and sobbing  - and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. It burst out of you, uncontrollable, even as tears welled in your eyes again.

Hyunjin froze, his brows furrowing.

"Are you laughing at me?” he asked, sniffing because his nose was running from all the crying. 

“You're such an idiot!” you wheezed, clinging to his shoulders for balance.

“That’s not fair,” he whined, pouting as his bottom lip jutted out dramatically. “You’re supposed to be mad at me. I deserve it.”

“I was mad at you,” you said, calming enough to meet his gaze. “But then you just…baby stop crying, please, ‘cos now I don’t know whether to kiss you or roll my eyes forever.”

“Can you do both?” He sniffled, his pout softening into the faintest of smiles.

You reached up, cupping his tear-streaked face as you said, “You’re lucky I love you, you big baby.”

And before he could respond, you pulled him down, kissing him firmly enough to silence whatever self-deprecating comment was surely on the tip of his tongue.

When you pulled back, he gazed at you, eyes shining like you’d just handed him the moon.

“You hurt me, Jinnie, so yeah, you're still in trouble,” you said, arching a brow. “But maybe I’ll forgive you. Eventually.”

He beamed through his tears.

“Eventually sounds pretty sexy to me.” he said with a shrug. 

“Don’t push your luck, Hwang.”

Hyunjin watched you closely as you got ready for bed. You can literally hear the gears turning in his head. 

Hyunjin’s grin widened as your eyes met, the sparkle in his eyes returning with alarming speed. You climbed into bed narrowing your eyes because you just knew that this menace wasn't going to leave you alone till this whole fight was out of the way. 

Hyunjin couldn't sleep through a conflict. You loved that about him, because any disagreement was sorted by bedtime and your home was so damn peaceful because of this one thing. 

“So…you said eventually?” He asked as you settled on your side of the bed.

“I did-”

“So, if I kiss you a few more times -”

“If you think your soggy kisses are -” You didn't finish that sentence because he obviously attacked you right there. 

“ - say, here” He leaned in, brushing his lips against the corner of your mouth. “and maybe here-”

His lips skimmed the edge of your jaw, lingering just enough to make you shiver

“Do I speed up the timeline?” he asked, and you really wanted to smack him across his gorgeous face. Oh you did. But also, you wanted to grab that very face and kiss him senseless. 

So you bit back the smirk that was threatening to show up, tilting your head ever so slightly.

“Do you think flattery is going to work on me right now?” you asked. 

“Not flattery, babe. Strategy.” His voice dipped into that low, teasing tone he knew you couldn’t resist, and his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. 

You narrowed your eyes again, ignoring the way your pulse quickened.

“Hyunjin, seriously, your seduction strategy is just bullshit.”

His laughter rumbled against your chest.

“Okay, first of all, I personally think it's working just fine. And second, you’re dodging the question. Do I get forgiven faster if I make you feel like the goddess you are?”

His lips were already moving again, trailing slow, deliberate kisses down the side of your neck.

You tried, really tried, to maintain your composure, but his mouth found that spot just below your ear, and a traitorous little gasp escaped you. 

“Jinnie -”

“Mmh?” He hummed innocently, his breath warm against your skin. His hands roamed lazily up your back, sliding under your shirt. “You were saying?”

“I was saying -” You inhaled sharply when his teeth grazed your earlobe. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

“Oh, trust me, I wouldn’t dream of getting off easily.” he chuckled, his lips curving into a devilish smirk. “But I can definitely make this more interesting.”

Leaning down, he nuzzles your nose like the puppy he was.

“I'm so sorry, angel. I tried. I really did. Even Chan hyung did. But some things are just not up to me…I hate that, and I know you don't deserve it. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” he said, his voice soft. 

“I know baby…I know,” you whispered, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “And you're  already working on it, so-”

“And how am I doing?” He tilted his head, eyes twinkling. 

“You’re at a solid…” You pretended to think. “…six out of ten.”

“Six?!” His jaw dropped in mock offense. “After all that neck kissing? I’m hurt.” 

You shrugged, biting back a grin. “Step it up, Hyunjinnie.”

“Oh, you asked for this,” he growled playfully, rolling you over so that you were under him in a second. You yelped, holding onto his shoulder tight. 

He hovered over you, his hair falling into his face and his grin as wicked as ever. 

“Ready to upgrade me to a ten?” he murmured, lips brushing against yours. “Because I'm going to grovel. And you're gonna wish I didn't.”

You laughed, looping your arms around his neck.

“Oh groveling sounds good.”

“Oh, baby,” he purred, closing the gap between you. “Challenge accepted.”

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi, sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if your planning on updating Congratulations! It's Triplets anytime soon? Because I kinda wanna see what happens once they actually sit down and talk through their misunderstandings because honestly although jazz is probably too busy to go through with it now she was training herself to be one of 2 courses in college which was either neurology or phycology so I figured she'd be the first to recognize that they need to have a sit down and talk with everything laid out or at least partially laid out, it being a really long really difficult conversion with tears trauma flashbacks and probably cake (because let's be honest this convo needs comfort food) and by the end of it they might not even fixed all the misunderstandings they had but it's a start in the right direction :)

"I'm sorry the kids threaten you. They can be a handful," is the first thing out of Jasmine's mouth. She is holding a glass tray with delicious-smelling lasagna, wearing a teal dress that hugs all her curves and seems dolled up for a night out.

She marches right by him, her long red hair falling into wavy curls down her back like waterfalls. They sway with her movement as she leads the way to the dining room.

On the table is a dinner set for two, red candles lit, and the lights dim. It makes him think of all those silly scenes in romance novels he consumed growing up. Jasmine places the tray in the center of the table alongside a salad. She carefully pours some bubbling water into two champagne glasses, humming.

Once done, she turns towards him, taking off the apron wrapped around her front. It reveals a nice but modest view of a split on her dress ending on the edge of her midleg.

"I told them to get you so we can have a dinner date. Bruce offered to babysit for the night." She proclaims, crossing her arms. "I want to see if there is a future for us or if the god of time is just an idiot."

Jason is so stunned by her beauty that he can't find any words to respond. He feels like she just pulled out a live fish and threw it at his face. While he's busy gawking like a fool, the three children squirm in his arms before he feels little hands fumbling around the edge of his helmet.

He jerks his neck away, a warning of bombs on his lips, only to bite his tongue when Dan bypasses his security to pull off the helmet with a laugh. At the same time, Dani reaches up to rip the mask off his face, fast and stiff enough that he swears she was a professional waxer in a past life.

He lets out a yowl, barely able to shift his words from a swear into a substitute. Danny pats his cheek, apologizing for his sibling's lack of manners. Dan doesn't seem to care because he scrambles off Jason's shoulders, head inside of the helmet that was too large for him, and races down the hallway.

"I'm unstoppable!" He screams in glee. Two seconds later, he rams into a wall, hitting it at full force due to the helmet blocking his view. He bounces off the drywall with enough force. He lands on his rear and a soft grunt.

Dani takes that chance to hop out of Jason's arms. She runs at a speed he's sure kids shouldn't be able to reach without having the Allen family gene, tackling Dan before his son can get up. In a tussle that looks too violent for five-year-olds, Dani rips the helmet out of Dan's hands and books it down the hallway, cackling like a loon.

"No! Dani! Give that back!" Dan demands, leaping to his feet and running after his sister. The voice modifiers of their outfits make them sound darker than usual, but it does not make them sound threatening.

Danny sighs heavily. "I better go stop them before that thing blows up. Treat my mom well, or I'll be forced to hurt you."

He patted Jason's cheek again, carefully climbing down to the ground. Despite his words, he calmly walks out of the room, hands tucked into his Prince of Gotham suit pants as if he were going on a casual stroll. The second he reaches the door, he grabs the handle and tugs to close.

Just as it's about to seal, he points two fingers toward his green glowing mask eyes and then points them aggressively at Jason. Once his warning is received, he finishes closing the door.

Jason is left standing in the room, confused out of his mind. It all happened so fast that he was unsure if the kids planned that exit or if they were honestly just like that. It burns to not be sure.

He should.

He is their father.

"Well, sit down. We have a date to get through." Jasmine commands, pushing some of her red hair out of her face. She levels an even calculating stare on him, making him feel she is more prepared for a business meeting than anything romantic. "Let's see what the god of time has in store for us."

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.1

Chapter One: Hide Your Heart From Sight

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Celebrities, Starstruck,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Welcome to this disaster of a fic that I have constantly daydreamed about. Logistically, yes, it is so improbable and unrealistic— but there’s a 0.001% chance that it could happen… to you. It’s nice to wonder and dream. I like wondering. Granted, I’ve never worked in production ever… I am studying advertising and arts soooo that’s as much knowledge I have tehe. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: It Could Happen To You by Laufey

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

The hum of the plane’s engines filled the air as you settled into your seat, trying not to fidget. You glanced at your boarding pass again, as if to double-check you weren’t hallucinating. Seat 3B—business class. Marvel had spared no expense for the production team’s travel, but you still couldn’t quite believe you’d be flying so comfortably.

What shocked you even more, though, was the man lowering himself into the seat next to yours: Pedro Pascal. Yes, that Pedro Pascal. The man whose movies you’d watched obsessively before joining this production, the actor who somehow seemed both unattainably larger-than-life and heartbreakingly down-to-earth.

“Hi,” he said with a warm smile, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Looks like we’re seatmates.”

You froze for a moment, then managed a weak, “Hi.” Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you mentally scrambled for something to say that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot.

“You’re with the crew, right?” Pedro asked, adjusting the scarf around his neck. “What do you do?”

“Oh, um,” you stammered, “I’m just a production assistant. It’s my first big project.”

“No kidding? That’s awesome,” he said, genuinely sounding impressed. “First time working on a Marvel movie? How’s it going so far?”

“It’s… surreal,” you admitted, relaxing slightly under his easygoing demeanor. “I mean, it’s been amazing, but also kind of overwhelming. There’s so much to do, and everyone’s so talented. I…” You trailed off, realizing you were rambling.

“I get it,” Pedro said, nodding. “First big gig can be a lot. But hey, you’re here. That means someone saw something in you, right?”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

The conversation flowed easily after that. Pedro asked you about your favorite movies, your hobbies, and how you’d gotten into production work. You told him about your love for art direction and set design, your dream of one day being a production designer, and your side passion for writing and music. When you mentioned you played guitar and sang, he raised an eyebrow.

“You’ll have to play something for us on set sometime,” he said, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.

You laughed nervously. “I don’t know about that. I’d probably die of embarrassment.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” he replied, his tone light but mischievous.

By the time the plane landed, you were buzzing—partly from the conversation and partly from the fact that you’d just spent hours talking to Pedro Pascal as if he were an old friend.

The buzz quickly faded when you arrived at the hotel. You stood in the lobby with the rest of the crew, listening as the location manager, Duncan, argued with the front desk staff. Apparently, there’d been a mix-up with the bookings. The hotel was overbooked due to a telecommunications conference, and somehow, you’d been assigned to share a suite… with Pedro Pascal.

“This has to be a mistake,” you muttered to yourself, your anxiety spiking as Duncan tried to sort things out. But no matter how much back-and-forth there was, the conclusion remained the same: there were no other rooms available.

“Look,” Pedro said finally, stepping in with his usual calm demeanor. “It’s fine. I don’t mind sharing if she’s okay with it.”

You blinked up at him, your mind racing. “I…”

“Hey,” he said gently, noticing your hesitation. He leaned in slightly, his voice soft but steady. “Look at me. I’m okay with it if you’re okay with it. No pressure.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over at Duncan, who looked as stressed as you felt. Finally, you nodded. “I’m fine with it if everyone else is.”

“Great,” Pedro said, flashing you a reassuring smile. “It’s settled, then.”

Duncan pulled you aside before you headed to the elevators. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his tone fatherly.

“Yes,” you said, forcing a smile. “Is there any kind of form I need to sign, or…?”

“No, it all falls under the NDA from your employment,” he assured you. “But seriously, if you need anything, just text me.”

You thanked him and joined Pedro in the elevator. The ride up to the suite was silent, save for the soft dinging of the floors passing by. When you finally stepped into the room, you couldn’t help but gape. It was a spacious suite with two bedrooms on opposite sides, a small kitchenette, and a cozy living area.

“This isn’t so bad,” Pedro said, dropping his bag by the door. He turned to you, his expression kind. “Do you have a preference for which room?”

You fidgeted with the strap of your bag. “Um, no, you can pick.”

“Ladies’ choice,” he insisted, his tone playful.

“Okay,” you said, gesturing to the room on the right. “I’ll take that one.”

“Perfect,” he said with a grin. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

As you unpacked in your room, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You were sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal. For at least a week. And somehow, you had to act like a normal, functioning human being the entire time.

You took a deep breath and flopped over on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Letting out a huff of air in disbelief, you muttered to yourself, “This has to be some sort of dream… or prank, right?”

Placing both hands over your face, you rubbed it in exasperation. “Get your shit together, girl. No screwing things up, no more internal freakouts. He’s a person, like you. Mhm, sure. Yup. Totally fine.”

You sighed deeply, trying to convince yourself of your own words. The suite was spacious and nicely furnished, with plenty of room to keep your distance—but that didn’t stop your overactive imagination from running wild. Every interaction felt loaded with the possibility of embarrassing yourself, but you swore you’d keep it together.

To say people around the production crew had heard about your new roomie was an understatement.

The day before shooting began, you attended a pre-production meeting that covered everything: call sheet details, blocking and camera movement, technical requirements, and a bunch of safety protocols. It was standard procedure but felt ten times more overwhelming knowing your friends would tease you mercilessly.

You sat with your friends from the art department, trying to focus, but they weren’t making it easy. Archie, one of the lead set designers, leaned over with a smirk. “So, how’s life as Pedro Pascal’s roomie?”

You felt your face heat up instantly. “I—it’s not… it’s just temporary,” you stammered, fiddling with the edge of your notebook.

Stephanie, a costume designer with an endless supply of sass, raised an eyebrow. “Temporary or not, it’s the stuff of rom-coms, babe. Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined a meet-cute scenario in that suite.”

“I have not!” you protested, though your flaming cheeks betrayed you. 

Will, an art director with a love for stirring the pot, chuckled. “Come on, you’ve gotta admit it’s a little… serendipitous? You, a huge fan, sharing a suite with the guy? Sounds like fate to me.”

“It’s not fate,” you insisted, trying to deflect. “It’s a logistical mistake, that’s all.”

Max, the trainee set dresser, chimed in with a grin. “Yeah, but a logistical mistake that’s got everyone talking. Even Steve heard about it, and he’s usually the last to know anything.”

Steve, the lighting technician, shrugged. “What can I say? Word travels fast. I’m just here to see how long it takes for Pedro to find out about your… fandom.”

“Oh my god, can we not?” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “He’s going to think I’m a weirdo.”

Rebecca, a fellow production assistant and one of your closest friends, patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Don’t worry, he seems like the kind of guy who’d find it endearing. Besides, you’ve been professional so far, right?”

You nodded hesitantly. “I think so. I mean, I haven’t said anything stupid yet.”

“Yet being the keyword,” Sophie teased, earning a laugh from the group.

Patricia, always the voice of reason, smiled warmly. “Just be yourself. You’re great at your job, and Pedro’s just another actor. A very charming actor, sure, but still just a person.”

“Thanks, Patricia,” you said, feeling slightly more grounded. But the anxiety still lingered, especially with everyone’s teasing reminders of your not-so-secret crush.

As the meeting wrapped up and you headed back to your tasks, you couldn’t shake the nervous excitement bubbling inside you. Sharing a suite with Pedro Pascal might’ve been a logistical mistake, but it was quickly turning into one of the most unreal experiences of your life.

CHILTERN FIREHOUSE HOTEL, LONDON — NIGHT

Dinner with the cast and crew had been lively, filled with laughter, and far too many knowing glances sent your way by your friends. The teasing hadn’t stopped, even over plates of pasta and glasses of wine.

Archie had leaned over at one point, a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s the first thing you’re gonna do when Pedro walks out of the bathroom shirtless? Swoon or faint?”

You nearly choked on your drink. “Archie!”

“I’m just saying,” he said with a laugh. “It’s a valid question.”

Stephanie smirked. “She’s probably rehearsing her ‘I’m totally cool and unaffected’ face right now.”

You groaned. “I hate all of you.”

Rebecca grinned. “No, you don’t. But seriously, just enjoy the moment. How many people can say they’ve shared a hotel room with Pedro Pascal?”

By the time the group had wandered back to the shuttle, your cheeks were sore from laughing, and your nerves were only slightly calmed. But as the cold London air nipped at your skin, you found yourself longing for the warmth of the hotel.

Your teeth chattered as you stepped off the shuttle, clutching your coat tighter around you. You didn’t like the cold very much, and London was very, very cold.

The moment you entered the hotel lobby, the warmth began to seep into your body, and you let out a sigh of relief. The elevator ride to your floor was quiet, your mind finally shutting down after a long evening of socializing. By the time you reached your room, you were operating on autopilot.

Tapping your keycard to the door, you quietly pushed it open, careful not to disturb Pedro if he was already asleep. It was just past 9:30 p.m., and you knew the early call time tomorrow would have him resting early.

You shut the door softly behind you, locking the deadbolt before shuffling into the room. You removed your coat, scarf, and shoes, swapping them for the fuzzy slippers you’d packed. The room was dimly lit, and you moved quietly, hoping not to make too much noise.

“Oh, you’re back.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, clutching your chest as your heart tried to escape it. Whipping around, you found Pedro lounging on the sofa, a book in his hands and a soft, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was wearing a plain white tee and gray sweatpants, his square-framed glasses perched on his nose, and he looked entirely too comfortable—like he belonged there. Like this was normal.

“Oh my god, I didn’t know you were still awake,” you said, voice breathless as you tried to recover from the scare.

He chuckled, his laugh low and warm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. You were so quiet coming in, I thought maybe you were sneaking around.”

You set your things on the small table by the door, giving him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t sneaking around. I was trying not to wake you.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” He tilted his head, watching you with that relaxed air that somehow made you feel completely exposed. “How was dinner?”

“It was good,” you said, shrugging as you moved toward the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water. “Everyone was in high spirits, and the food was great. We took a little walk around the city before heading back.”

Pedro closed his book, setting it on the coffee table. “Sounds nice. London at night can be magical.”

“Yeah, it was.” You paused, feeling the weight of his gaze. “Though, I think I underestimated just how cold it gets here. My teeth were chattering the whole way back.”

He raised an eyebrow, his smile softening. “Didn’t bring a warm enough coat?”

“I thought I did, but apparently not. I’m not built for this kind of weather,” you admitted with a laugh, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to stave off the lingering chill.

Pedro stood, crossing the room with an easy grace that made your breath hitch. “Well, we can’t have you freezing, can we?” He grabbed the throw blanket draped over the back of the sofa and held it out to you. “Here.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the simple gesture. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I just get cold really easily. Besides, I’ll warm up eventually.”

“Take it,” he insisted, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not a big deal.”

Reluctantly, you took the blanket, your fingers brushing his for the briefest moment. It sent a jolt of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the fabric now wrapped around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, pulling it tighter around you.

“Better?” he asked, stepping back to give you space but still watching you with that disarmingly kind expression.

You nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “Much. Thanks, Pedro.”

He smiled again, and for a moment, the air between you felt charged, like something unspoken was hanging there. But then he broke the silence, his voice light. “So, did they give you a hard time at dinner?”

Your face heated instantly. “What do you mean?”

He smirked, leaning casually against the back of the sofa. “I heard some of the cast talking earlier. Apparently, your friends in the art department have been… teasing you about the room situation.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Oh no. What exactly did you hear?”

“Nothing incriminating,” he said with a laugh. “Just that they’re convinced this is some kind of meet-cute scenario straight out of a rom-com.”

You peeked at him through your fingers, mortified. “I’m so sorry. They’re ridiculous.”

“I don’t mind,” he said, his tone easy, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

Your hands dropped to your sides, your eyes wide. “Flattering?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s nice to know someone thinks sharing a room with me is worth all that excitement.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to process the fact that Pedro Pascal—Pedro Pascal—was standing in front of you, teasing you in the most charming way possible.

“Well, I’ll let you get some rest,” he said after a beat, his voice softer now. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Big day.”

He gave you one last smile before retreating to his side of the suite, leaving you standing there with a racing heart and a head full of thoughts you were too scared to unpack.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — DAY  

You woke to the soft chime of your alarm, the faint glow of early morning light creeping through the curtains. Shuffling into the bathroom with a yawn, you turned on the shower, letting the warm water coax you into wakefulness. You placed your phone on the counter, tapping on a playlist to fill the small space with soft, melodic tunes—comforting background noise that kept your mind from spiraling too early in the day.  

After your shower, you toweled off and began your morning routine. Skincare applied with practiced ease, makeup brushed on with care, you avoided the mirror for too long, focusing instead on the growing anticipation of the day ahead. Pinning your ID to your lanyard, you glanced at your phone again.  

The group chat with your team was buzzing:  

Archie: "We’re fifteen minutes out. Don’t keep us waiting, queen 👑."  

Rebecca: "Text when you’re coming down!"  

Max: "Coffee run? Pls? 🙏"  

A small smile tugged at your lips as you tapped out a quick reply, your fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment before you switched apps.  

Your heart did a little stutter as you opened your browser—a Joel Miller fanfic you’d been obsessing over still lingering on your screen. You skimmed the most recent chapter, your thumb pausing to scroll as you half-laughed at the absurdity of sneaking in a few paragraphs before a full day on set. You switched to the chat thread with your online friends, who were deep in a heated discussion about whether Joel would be the type to cook breakfast for his partner. You couldn’t help but chuckle, throwing in a quick, “He’d definitely make pancakes and act like it’s no big deal,” before locking your phone and setting it on the counter.  

Moving on autopilot, you padded into the small kitchenette, barefoot and still humming softly to the tune stuck in your head. You set the coffee machine to brew, pulling out a couple of mugs, a jar of Nutella, and some bread. Your hands moved with muscle memory, spreading the hazelnut spread on toast and slicing up a handful of fruit without a second thought. It wasn’t until the scent of coffee filled the air that you realized you’d made two plates of toast—one for you and one for Pedro.  

The realization struck at the same moment you heard the faint shuffle of footsteps behind you.  

“Morning.”  

His voice was low and warm, still carrying the huskiness of sleep. You froze, phone in one hand, butter knife in the other, as you turned to see Pedro leaning against the doorframe. His hair was adorably tousled, and he was dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants that somehow made him look effortlessly put together. His eyes crinkled slightly as he smiled at you, and you nearly dropped your phone in a panic.  

“Good morning,” you managed, your voice a little too high-pitched as you fumbled to lock your screen. The thought of him catching even a glimpse of what you’d been reading was enough to make your cheeks burn.  

Pedro glanced at the counter, taking in the toast, coffee, and neatly sliced fruit. “You made breakfast?”  

“Oh, uh—yeah.” You set your phone down and gestured awkwardly toward the spread. “I made you some coffee and toast with Nutella. I wasn’t sure if you’d want that, and there’s fruit, too. I was just about to cut some more, but obviously, you don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, and—”  

“Hey.” Pedro’s soft chuckle cut through your rambling, and when you met his gaze, he was looking at you with a mix of amusement and something else you couldn’t quite place. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”  

You blinked at him, momentarily stunned by the sincerity in his voice. “Oh. Yeah. No problem. It’s nothing, really.”  

He moved past you to grab a mug of coffee, the proximity sending your pulse into overdrive. As he poured himself a cup, you noticed his shoulders relaxed and his movements unhurried. He took a sip and let out a small, contented sigh.  

“Perfect,” he said, glancing over at you with a grin. “You’re spoiling me, you know that?”  

Your laugh came out nervous and breathy. “I’m pretty sure this doesn’t count as spoiling. It’s just toast.”  

“Yeah, but it’s good toast,” he teased, holding up a slice as if to emphasize his point.  

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the tension in your chest easing slightly. The moment felt impossibly domestic—like a scene out of one of those fanfics you’d been reading. Only this time, it wasn’t Joel Miller standing in the kitchen with you. It was Pedro.  

And that was somehow even more surreal.  

Pedro leaned against the counter, his mug cradled in both hands. He looked at you like you were the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. “So,” he started, his voice warm and casual, “what were you so engrossed in on your phone earlier? You looked ready to throw it out the window when I walked in.”  

Your stomach flipped, and you tried to play it cool, even though you were fairly certain your face was now several shades of red. “Oh, nothing,” you lied, brushing a crumb off the counter. “Just the group chat. You know how chaotic they are.”  

Pedro tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mm-hmm. Sure it wasn’t something more... intriguing?”  

You swallowed hard, gripping your coffee cup a little tighter. “Intriguing?”  

He took a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling with mischief over the rim of his mug. “You tell me.”  

“It’s nothing!” you blurted out, a little too defensively. “Just—just boring stuff. Work stuff.”  

“Work stuff,” he repeated slowly, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Because people laugh at boring work stuff while making toast.”  

You groaned, setting your mug down as you ran a hand over your face. “Can we not? Please? I’m already mortified enough.”  

Pedro chuckled, the sound low and teasing but not unkind. “Alright, alright. I’ll let it go... for now.” He set his mug on the counter and raised his hands in mock surrender. “But you owe me a story later. Deal?”  

You hesitated, narrowing your eyes at him. “Depends on how much coffee you’ve had by then. I might need you slightly less smug for that conversation.”  

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, just enough to make your heart stutter. “Smug? I prefer charming. But I’ll take it under advisement.”  

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. The playful banter made the room feel lighter, warmer.  

By the time you both finished your coffee, the atmosphere had shifted into something comfortable and easy. You quickly rinsed the dishes, your hands moving on autopilot as Pedro lingered nearby, chatting about everything and nothing.  

As you dried your hands, your phone buzzed on the counter, and you glanced at the screen.  

Rebecca: “Bus is almost there. Better get your cute butt down here!”  

You shot back a quick reply: “On my way.” Turning to Pedro, you grabbed your bag and gestured toward the door. “I’ve got to head down. My shuttle’s waiting.”  

Pedro grabbed his own bag and trailed after you. “I’ll walk down with you. I’ve got my own ride coming, but they’re always late.”  

The two of you stepped into the elevator, the hum of its descent filling the silence. The confined space suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with unspoken tension.  

Pedro stood close—too close. You could feel the heat radiating off him, smell the faint hint of his cologne. Your heart thudded in your chest, and you pressed the strap of your bag tighter against your shoulder, hoping it would anchor you somehow.  

“So,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost intimate in the stillness of the elevator. “What’s the plan for today?”  

You glanced at him, his brown eyes watching you closely, the curve of his smile softer now. “Same as usual, I guess,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Make sure everything runs smoothly while you and everyone else look good on camera.”  

He chuckled, the sound low and rich. “You make it sound so simple, but I know you’re the one holding it all together.”  

His words caught you off guard, and you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I just do my job.”  

“And you do it damn well,” he said, his tone sincere now, no teasing edge in sight.  

The elevator dinged as it reached the lobby, breaking the moment. Pedro gestured for you to step out first, and you did, your pulse still racing.  

“Thanks,” you murmured, not entirely sure if you were thanking him for his compliment or just for letting you escape the charged space of the elevator.  

As you spotted your shuttle waiting outside, you turned to him, suddenly aware of how reluctant you were to leave. “I’ll see you on set?”  

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat longer than necessary. “Yeah. See you soon.”  

You stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your face as you walked toward the shuttle. But even as you climbed aboard and found a seat, your mind was still back in that elevator, replaying every glance, every word, every spark.

End Notes:

Oh hi! I missed doing these silly bits; I thought to bring ‘em back. But, don’t worry, I’ll try to yap less haha

Yes, it’s super cliche, cheesy, unrealistic, and practically a hallmark movie in the making. But that’s the fun part in fanfiction and writing, it’s all made up and no one here is allowed to “yuck” each other’s “yum” if you know what I mean. ;)

Also, I have no idea how production for film works so I’m researching stuff and making stuff up along the way pls no one come after me T^T

Weirdly enough, I saw a reddit post from someone who works at the front of the hotel desk and they say the one-bed trope/one-room trope; it actually happens pretty frequently lol so who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca

[greengoblinswifey]

Mended Hearts—Hwang Jun ho x Fem!Reader

summary— Jun-ho's relentless pursuit of finding the island has strained your relationship, leaving you feeling neglected and unseen. After weeks of distance and dismissiveness, you confront him, your frustrations spilling over into a heated argument that ends with apologies and comfort ;) Based on this request.

warnings— angst, arguing, fluff, praise kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

a/n— never thought i’d be writing for jun-ho but here i am, a woman of and for the people🙏🏽

It had been weeks since Jun-ho had truly looked at you. His focus had shifted entirely to uncovering the secrets of some stupid island, the one tied to the Squid Game, the one that consumed him. The man who had once wrapped his arms around you with love, who smiled at you like you were his safe place, now felt like a stranger. His tone was sharp, his responses were sparse, and the long nights he used to spend with you were now filled with files, maps, obsession and out on a boat.

You stood at the doorway to the dimly lit apartment, watching him at his desk. His back was to you as he flipped through papers and typed furiously on his laptop. The glow from the screen outlined his profile, making the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent.

“Jun-ho,” you called softly, hoping to break through the barrier he’d built around himself.

“What?” he muttered without turning around.

You sighed, stepping closer. “Can we talk? Please?”

“Not now,” he said flatly.

That was the last straw. Weeks of neglect and coldness boiled to the surface, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. There was no way you’d continue to let shit slide.

“No, Jun-ho. Not later, not when you’re done, not tomorrow. Now,” you snapped, your voice shaking with frustration.

His hands froze on the keyboard, and he finally turned to look at you. “I said I’m busy, can’t you see that?”

“Busy? You’ve been busy for weeks! What about me, Jun-ho? What about us?” you shot back, tears threatening to spill. “You barely talk to me, you barely look at me, do you even care anymore?”

He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “Of course I care! But I’m trying to do something important here. Do you think this is easy for me? Trying to find the truth about that damned island while keeping myself alive?”

“And what about me? I’m here, alive, and you’re pushing me away!” Your voice cracked as the words poured out. “I know this is important to you, but you’ve made me feel like I don’t matter. Like I’m just—here. Waiting for scraps of your attention.”

Jun-ho’s jaw clenched. He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over. “You don’t understand! This isn’t about you, it’s bigger than you, bigger than us! People have died, and if I don’t—”

“I get that!” you yelled, cutting him off. “But do you even realize how much you’re losing in the process? You’re not just fighting for justice, Jun-ho, you’re throwing away everything else, us included!”

His next words came out sharper than he intended. “Maybe I don’t have time to be what you need right now! Is that what you want to hear?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Your face fell, and the sight hit him like a punch to the gut. He had crossed a line.

Your voice was small when you spoke again. “Y-you don’t mean that.”

His chest tightened as he saw the tears streaming down your face. He immediately stepped closer, his tone softening. “No, no, I don’t. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

You took a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself. “Do you even want me here, Jun-ho? Because if you don’t, just say that.”

His hands reached for yours, and this time, you didn’t pull away. “Don’t say that,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “Of course I want you here. I just—I’m scared. Scared that I’ll fail. That I’ll lose everything, including you.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” you said, your voice steadier now. “I’m here for you, but I can’t keep feeling like I’m invisible.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, over and over, as if it could undo the weeks of pain he’d caused. “You’re right. I’ve been shutting you out, and that’s not fair to you. I’ll do better. I promise.”

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped in his warmth, feeling the walls between you crumble.

Later, when you were both lying in bed after Jun-ho had dropped everything to spend time with you, he kissed you softly, his touch filled with the tenderness you had missed. “I don’t deserve someone like you,” he murmured.

“Don’t say that,” you replied, running your fingers through his dark hair. “You need to remember that I’m here for you, always.”

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he said quietly.

The tension between you and Jun-ho had been simmering for weeks, unspoken feelings and bottled up frustrations pressing against the walls of your shared space. But now, as his lips moved against yours in a kiss that was equal parts apology and longing, everything else seemed to fade away.

You straddled his lap, your hands threading through his hair as the kiss deepened. His fingers gripped your waist, steadying you as you pressed yourself closer, feeling the hardness beneath you. You pulled back slightly, your breath hitching as you met his gaze.

“Jun-ho,” you whispered, sliding your hands down to the hem of your top. Slowly, you pulled it over your head, revealing your bare chest.

His eyes were lust filled as they roamed over you, his lips parting slightly. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his hands running up your sides. “I can’t believe I’ve gone this long without touching you.”

“It’s been weeks,” you replied, your voice tinged with need.

“I know,” he said in a regretful tone. “I don���t know how I lasted this long.”

Your hands trailed down to the waistband of his pants, your touch light and teasing. “I need you,” you said, your voice low.

Something in him snapped. In a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his body pressing against yours as his lips found your neck. He kissed a wet trail down your collarbone, each touch slow, as if he were trying to make up for lost time.

He paused at your waist, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your skirt and panties. He glanced up at you, his eyes searching yours. “Do you want this?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “It’s been too long.”

That was all he needed to hear. He slid your bottoms down and off and his hands settled on your thighs, spreading them slightly as he lowered himself.

“You’re perfect, baby,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “And I’m going to make sure you know that.”

He kissed your clit, his tongue and lips moving with precision and need. Each flick of his tongue sent shivers through your body, your hands tangling in his hair as your back arched off the bed. He was practically devouring you, relishing in the moment that had been building up.

“You taste so good,” he murmured, his breath warm against your pussy.

You couldn’t hold back the moans escaping your lips, your body trembling as he sucked on your clit like he had a point to prove. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you grounded even as you felt like you were unraveling.

“Baby,” you gasped, your fingers tugging gently at his hair.

He looked up at you briefly, his lips glistening, a small, satisfied smirk on his face. “That’s it, love. Cum for me.”

And when you finally did, shaking and breathless, he didn’t stop until you were completely spent, your body melting into the mattress. He kissed his way back up your body, his lips lingering on your skin before he met your gaze again.

“Missed this,” he whispered, brushing a strand of your curls from your face.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice still unsteady.

In that moment, it was just you and him—no islands, no missions, no distance. Just the love that had always been there, waiting to be rediscovered.

Jun-ho's lips lingered on your skin, trailing from your jaw to your collarbone before moving lower, his kisses growing hungrier by the second. His hands roamed your body, desperate, like he was making up for every moment he had kept himself from you.

As his mouth closed over your tits, sucking gently, his fingers worked at the waistband of his own pants, sliding them off in one swift motion. He pressed against your thigh, his hardness obvious. He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged as he cupped your cheek, searching your gaze.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked softly. “We don’t have to. We can just cuddle. I’ll wait if you need me to.”

You reached up, holding his jaw firmly but gently, making sure he looked directly at you. “Jun-ho,” you said, your voice low, “I’ve been deprived for weeks. Fuck me like you mean it.”

His eyes darkened, his control snapping in an instant. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he growled before capturing your lips in a deep kiss.

He moved with a new intensity, his hands gripping your hips as he aligned his hard cock with your entrance.Slowly, he pressed forward, his forehead dropping to yours as he let out a low moan. “You feel incredible. So wet for me,” he murmured.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he started to move, his thrusts rough but full of love. “God, you’re everything I need,” he breathed, his hands running over your sides, gripping your waist like he was afraid to let you go.

“You’re amazing,” you gasped, your back arching into him. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up, but you—God, you’re all I need.”

His pace quickened, his strokes growing more desperate as your moans filled the room. “You’re everything to me,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’ll never make you feel like you’re not enough again. I swear.”

The two of you moved together, your bodies perfectly in sync as you met his thrusts with grinding, the friction making your clit throb. The tension between you built until it became unbearable. “Cum for me,” he whispered. “Let me feel you soak my cock.”

You shattered beneath him, his name tumbling from your lips as he followed soon after, his entire body trembling as he held you close. He stayed buried in you for a moment, his forehead pressed to yours as you both caught your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured again, kissing your temple. “You deserve better from me, and I’ll do better. I promise.”

“Thank you,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing through his hair.

He carefully pulled out of you and reached for the blanket, wrapping it around both of you as he pulled you into his chest. His hand rubbing your back, his touch soothing.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you too,” you whispered, nuzzling into him.

As you drifted off in his arms, you felt his words and the way he held you like you were his entire world, a silent promise that he wouldn’t take you for granted again.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt like you had him back—the Jun-ho who loved you with everything he had.

[incomplete-leclerc]

　𝗥𝗘𝗖𝗞𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦.　franco colapinto · #43

　　　your boyfriend acts on impulse, leading him to get into fights, and you to worry about his safety.

genres : hurt/comfort ... established relationship ... franco x fem!reader.　 request : anon for franco + stitches on a cheekbone for the 100 event.　word count : 0.6k.　warnings : mild arguing ... mention of injuries (bruises, a cut, stitches) ... mention of franco punching someone ... profanity ... some spanish pentanes (i do not speak spanish but i think they're all translated correctly).　 note : tell me why there were no good pics of franco so i had to find a random gif instead LIKE i swear finding pics takes longer than writing the actual fics sometimes.　　　( masterlist )　( taglist )

“Franco? Where the fuck have you been?” you asked disgruntledly as the figure of your boyfriend stepped through the door. Wide eyes, clearly tired, but they softened at the sound of your voice, no matter how irritated your tone was. He dropped his tattered backpack on the floor and pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up tightly and nuzzling his face into your neck. 

“I’m so sorry, hermosa. I didn’t mean to leave you worried,” he whispered. You breathed, closing your eyes and reciprocating the hug. More than twenty-four hours with no word from him had you thinking of the worst possible scenarios to explain what had happened. Although you were still very much mad at him, you let him have the hug that you both needed in the moment. Breathing in his familiar scent, letting it calm your senses just slightly. He was safe, back in your arms. You could finally let your brain take a break from running in circles.

You felt him press a few kisses to your neck, soft and slow, travelling up to your cheek until you pulled away from the hug. 

“Where were you? Why didn’t you call?” you questioned, withdrawing to look at his face. 

“My phone died. And I got in a little fight— but, I’m really okay, Y/n. It was just a crazy night.”

Your face fell. “You’re so reckless all the time, amor. Don’t you ever stop to use your brain once?” 

You knew the words would do little to change anything. Franco was messy. Nothing could magically make him a clean person. Usually it didn’t bother you. It was something you loved about him. But when it got in the way of his safety, it scared you. Staring at the bruises starting to form on his left cheek, and the cut on his cheekbone closed up with a few stitches, you only wished he would listen to you for once. 

“How’d you start a fight this time?” you asked, leading Franco to sit down on the couch. Now that he was back home, it was time for you to take charge and take care of him. And if you were lucky, knock some sense into his brain. He was silent for a moment, thinking of how to phrase what had happened in the mildest way possible.

“Well… we were all drunk, and some guys said some things about you, so I just punched them in the face so they would shut up,” he said simply, trying to stop himself from grinning. You stared at him in shock. 

“Franco—”

“Y/n, you can’t possibly have expected me to just let them talk shit about you? I don’t think I overreacted,” he defended. In his mind, a few bruises to his face was more than worth it to shut up a few assholes talking about his girlfriend. And seeing them run off with much worse injuries than him was satisfying. 

“You didn’t have to fight them over it. Now you’re hurt, and I was left worrying about you for hours. It was unnecessary and completely avoidable,” you pleaded, hoping that he would understand where you were coming from. A few tears building in your eyes stopped Franco from arguing over it more.

“I’m sorry, hermosa,” he whispered, cupping your face and silencing you of any other critical words. You knew it was time to drop the issue. You didn’t want to press him more after he apologized. “I won’t do it again,” he said, noticing the doubt in your eyes. It eased up, and you relaxed slightly. 

“Promise?” 

“Swear on my life,” he assured, sincerity swimming in his pearly eyes. You knew he meant it this time.

taglist: @caffeinboi

[orchidseason]

she still cares. ౨ৎ hurt/comfort fic

ellie w x f!reader

even after an argument, Ellie’s constant love pulls you close when a nightmare shakes you awake, reminding you she’s always there.

warnings ౨ৎ word count 1.8k, estblashed relationship, hurt/comfort, previous argument, angst w/ happy ending, nightmare of loosing your pet (r, dream isnt real)

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, your hands working through the familiar motions of your skincare routine. The quiet of the apartment was almost soothing, except for the tightness in your chest—the leftover sting from the argument you’d had earlier.

It had been dumb. So dumb. A small disagreement over nothing, and yet somehow, you’d both ended up shouting, saying things neither of you meant. The silence that followed was worse than the fight itself. Both of you have yet to apologize to one another, the argument still fresh.

You were slathering some moisturizer onto your face when you heard the door creak open behind you. You froze for a moment, fingers hovering near your face as Ellie stepped into the bathroom, her gaze flicking over to you briefly before she grabbed her toothbrush. The silence between you two stretched taut.

You didn’t look at her. You couldn’t. You focused instead on smoothing out your skin cream, trying to ignore the way the space between you both felt thicker than it should.

Ellie, already halfway into brushing her teeth, seemed equally determined to keep her attention on the task at hand. She stood awkwardly by the sink, her gaze avoiding yours as if it was the hardest thing to do. You could hear the quiet rasp of the toothbrush, the swish of water, but neither of you spoke. Not a single word.

You finished your routine quickly, your hands moving mechanically, and grabbed a towel to dry your face. Ellie’s toothbrush made a soft tapping noise against the sink as she finished up, and the two of you stood there, side by side, doing your best not to acknowledge how close the other one was. The tension in the room was suffocating, heavy with unspoken words.

You muttered something about going to bed and turned to leave, but as you did, you both seemed to move at the same time—Ellie stepping back just as you tried to sidestep her. You both bumped into each other awkwardly, your shoulder brushing hers.

"Sorry," you said quickly, glancing up at her for the first time in hours.

Ellie didn't look at you. She just shook her head, a tight, clipped response that didn’t really sound like her. "It's fine."

You quickly left the bathroom, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. You walked into the bedroom, pulling back the blankets and crawling into bed, facing away from her. Your back was stiff, your body tense as you tried to settle in. The argument still felt so fresh, the sting of the things you’d both said weighing heavily on your chest.

You tried to push it away, focusing on the feeling of the soft sheets, the quiet night around you. But it didn’t help. Not really. Your mind kept racing, the images of Ellie’s face when she was angry, her frustration… it all came rushing back, making it hard to breathe.

You heard the soft rustling of sheets, and then Ellie’s footsteps. She didn’t speak. She just crawled into bed beside you, a few inches of space between you both.

You turned your face into the pillow, your back still to her, pretending you were fine. You weren’t fine. You were both hurting, and the space between you felt more like an ocean than a few feet.

Minutes passed. The only sound was the soft shuffle of her movements as she adjusted, trying to get comfortable. You didn’t look back at her. Didn’t say anything. And she didn’t either.

But the quiet felt wrong. It wasn’t the comfortable silence you usually shared, where you could fall asleep to each other’s presence without needing words. No, this was different. This silence was heavy.

You could feel the warmth of her body near yours, the ache in your chest growing with every breath. It was like your hearts were reaching out to each other but just couldn’t find a way to cross the distance.

The night dragged on, but sleep refused to come. You twisted and turned in the sheets, trying to ignore the knot in your stomach. The images of the argument replayed in your mind, over and over until you fell asleep.

And then, like a sudden wave crashing over you in your sleep, the nightmare hit.

You jolted awake with a gasp, your breath sharp and frantic, as if your lungs couldn’t catch up with your panic. Your heartbeat hammered in your chest, a cold sweat prickling on your skin. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on anything but the flashing images from your dream. Your pet had died. Images and memories from real life had flashed in your mind like you attended a funeral.

Tears sprang to your eyes, your chest tightening as you started to sob, your body trembling violently. The grief hadn’t left you, and you couldn’t escape it, not even in the safety of your own bed.

Beside you, Ellie stirred. She shifted under the covers and then froze. The next thing you knew, her hand was on your back, warm and steady, her voice soft and calm in the dark.

"Hey," Ellie’s voice was gentle, but you could hear the worry in it, the quiet concern. "It’s okay. You’re okay."

You couldn't speak. You couldn’t say anything as you pressed your face into your pillow, your body still shaking with the aftershocks of the nightmare. You felt her move closer, and then her arms wrapped around you, pulling you against her chest. Her warmth seeped into you, grounding you as you tried to catch your breath.

"I’m here," Ellie whispered, her voice so soft, so steady. "I’ve got you."

You clung to her without thinking, your fingers digging into the fabric of her shirt as you let yourself fall apart in her arms. She didn’t pull away. She didn’t say anything about the argument. She just held you, and she did for as long as it took until your panic had calmed down.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked softly. You shook your head no, face rubbing against her loose sleep shirt. A silence filled the space after and your mind got all the more poisoned from your previous argument. Despite what you said, despite the hurt you had caused her, here she was comforting you, letting everything before fall away. It made your heart burn all the more, guilt creeping up making you want to cry again.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice muffled by the fabric of her shirt. "I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean anything of what I said earlier."

Ellie’s hand smoothed over your back in slow, comforting strokes, like she had done so many times before. "I know," she murmured. "Me too."

You could feel her breath against your hair, her chest rising and falling steadily beneath you. "I love you," Ellie said softly, her words almost drowned out by the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice hoarse but real.

And just like that, the space between you was gone. The argument, the silence, the fear—none of it mattered anymore. All that mattered was the warmth of her arms around you, the feeling of being home, even when everything else was a little broken.

As you both lay there, tangled up in each other, you knew that despite the fight, despite everything, Ellie would always be there for you. And you would always be there for her.

[wendichester]

Please may I request some comfort from Sam when reader just has a really bad day for no reason and everything's overwhelming and then a dam just breaks and reader just kinda breaks down the moment he asks if they're okay? With established relationship, please

Tysm, I could really use some comforting sammy rn

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ soothing comfort,

summary. you had a rough day but lucky, sam is there for you. he always is.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 507

notes. some days are just hard and they suck for no specific reason. hope this comforts you a little ♡ my messages are always open if you ever need

The bunker is unusually quiet when you trudge through the door, your bag slipping off your shoulder and landing with a dull thud on the floor. You kick off your shoes with a sigh, the weight of the day pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

Nothing bad had really happened. No major catastrophes or apocalyptic events. But somehow, it was just too much. Everything—from the clinking sound of your coffee mug this morning to the endless chatter of strangers—had grated on your nerves.

As you step into the kitchen, the faint scent of coffee and the warm glow of the overhead light greet you. Sam is there, leaning over a book with his hair slightly tousled, wearing one of his soft flannels that practically screams comfort.

“Hey,” he says, his voice gentle as he glances up from the page. His brow furrows the moment he takes in your face. “Rough day?”

You manage a noncommittal shrug, hoping he’ll let it slide, but you should’ve known better. Sam’s eyes linger on you, concerned and thoughtful, and then he stands, closing the book as he crosses the room toward you.

“Hey,” he repeats, softer this time, his hand coming to rest lightly on your arm. “Are you okay?”

And that’s all it takes. One simple question, asked in that kind, steady tone of his, and something in you snaps.

The tears come fast and without warning, your chest heaving as the dam finally breaks. You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed and overwhelmed, but you can’t stop.

“Whoa, hey,” Sam murmurs, his voice full of concern as he steps closer. His arms are around you in an instant, pulling you into the solid warmth of his chest. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you manage to choke out between sobs. “Nothing even happened, and I—”

“Shhh,” Sam soothes, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t need a reason.”

You cling to him, your fingers clutching the fabric of his flannel as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. His other hand moves to cradle the back of your head, his touch gentle and protective.

For what feels like forever, he just holds you, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. “Let it all out,” he says. “I’ve got you. Just let it out.”

Eventually, your sobs start to subside, leaving you feeling drained but a little lighter. Sam pulls back just enough to tilt your chin up, his hazel eyes searching yours with so much warmth and understanding it makes your throat tighten again.

“Better?” he asks softly, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

You nod, sniffling. “I think so. Sorry for—”

“Don’t,” he interrupts gently. “You don’t have to apologize for feeling things.”

His words wrap around you like a blanket, and you manage a small smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment before pulling you back into his arms. “Anytime.”

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze

[simmerandwrite]

electric touch (part 2)

Pairing: Bucky x medical team! reader

Summary: Getting a spot on the field medical team was your dream. And your closest work friend Bucky Barnes finally asking you out? That was the cherry on top of your good news. Now all you had to do was pass your training week. Seems easy enough until you’re faced with someone who doesn’t want to see you win.

Warnings: abuse of power, verbal abuse, physical assault, some PTSD (but none of these are because of Bucky!!!!)

Wordcount: 8.5k

Part 1

Notes: WELP, sorry for the delay on this one. I've never rewritten so many scenes before (I have about 2k worth of trash from this part). thank you so much for your patience and for reading and reblogging part 1. hope you enjoy!!! <3

--

You didn’t anticipate the first-time seeing Bucky’s apartment would be like this: after two hours spent at a private clinic in Midtown, getting an x-ray then a consultation with a Dr. Alvarez, followed by the application of a cast. Then there was a visit from Tony Stark himself, alongside Pepper Potts, who carried a great amount of apologies and offered support for whatever the next steps ended up being.

Not once did you think you would be sneaking into the Tower through a back elevator, arm resting in a sling, shuffling your feet quietly beside Bucky as you ventured to his apartment, and feeling somehow both on edge and utterly exhausted throughout the whole process. And Bucky checked in with you every step of the way – sometimes with just a cursory glance. He managed to say so much without saying anything at all, and you really appreciated that.

God, he was so careful with you. Gentle, even. Gentle wasn’t the first word you would use to describe Bucky. Not that he was rough or reckless or brutish or whatever the opposite of gentle was. When it came to you, he was always kind and quiet and attentive.

But the way he spoke to you, how he had apologized after every bump and pothole as the ground shook his car, how he held his hand at your back as he guided you to his door - it was unexpected and gentle and exactly what kept you from spiraling. 

Despite all that, you wanted to visit his apartment for the first time excited, with butterflies in your stomach. Why did it have to be like this?

When you got to his door, there was a Stark Industries bag hanging off the handle. Bucky paused, then nodded with a hum before scanning his access card to open the door. 

The living spaces at the Tower were pretty basic, and you knew Bucky wasn’t intending on staying there forever, but he somehow managed to make it feel like his home nonetheless. 

A basic kitchen was immediately on your left as you walked in, open directly into the living room - which had a big, comfortable couch covered in a few pillows and blankets. You carefully fell into it, eyes closed. The impact made you wince but you decided it was worth it, given how you sank into the cushions.

“So, what do you want to eat?” Bucky had stopped in the kitchen area, grabbing what looked like a stack of menus from the top of the fridge.

You just shrugged, glancing over at him briefly before closing your eyes. “I’m not really hungry.”

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could sense the frown on his face.

He sighed out your name. “Didn’t we just learn a lesson about taking those intense pain meds on an empty stomach?” He paused. “Actually, you think about it, I’m going to change...”

You squeezed your eyes even harder, trying to scrub away that recent memory. 

The doctor had been fitting the temporary cast on your hand and wrist just as whatever remaining particles of pain medication seemed to disappear from your bloodstream. That had been enough to make you feel nauseated but then when a nurse came to share some stronger meds with you, Bucky was quick to grab the nearest trash can when they immediately made you throw up. 

Most of it made it into the can, at least.

Now he was probably going to change out of his shirt that had been hit with the rest.

In the few moments of quiet while Bucky was in his bedroom, everything about the last few days hit you all at once. 

Boone. The gym. Your face on the mat. The way he yelled, screamed. Why hadn’t you left? 

Your couch. The growing pain. The purple and yellow and blue bruises. Why didn’t you just walk away?

Bucky.

Bucky at your door, with soup. Bucky with his tender touch. Your hand.

Pepper Potts, her kindness. 

The doctor.

The doctor said something about surgery after seeing your x-ray. Metacarpal break in your hand, down from the ring finger, and a hairline fracture down your wrist.

Pepper had been so kind but what was it she said about a police report? About filing a report with HR? What had she said about taking a break from work?

Bucky, Bucky had been so patient. He hadn’t left your side. But–

How would you ever write again? Could you hold a pen? Would you be able to do your job? Now you wouldn’t have your new role and you’d be shit at your current job, too. How could a nurse function without typing notes or holding a stethoscope or –

Boone. The gym. Your face on the mat. Bucky. Boone. Bucky. Your hand and this cast and this goddamn sling.

In your slurry of thoughts, you hadn’t even realized the tight feeling growing in your chest. Instinctually, you tried to place a hand over your heart and – pain, your wrist. Heaving in deep breaths, it felt as if your lungs couldn’t handle functioning properly.

And your skin - everything felt too hot. You shuffled forward on the couch until you were closer to the floor, dropping to your knees as you tore at your sweatshirt with one hand. It was only halfway zipped up, barely draped over your shoulders, and just so so so hot - were you dripping with sweat?

Could Bucky hear as you called out for him? God, what if he just changed his mind - you were a mess, this wasn’t the person he knew and definitely wasn’t the person he asked out.

How could he be proud of you now?

You tore off your glasses as tears started to fall.

Your name, someone was saying your name. 

Were you under water? It felt like you were under water. Your skin - hot. Your hand, your wrist – pain. 

Boone. 

You collapsed further, bracing yourself on the rug with your free hand. It was strangely soft under your palm. Bucky’s apartment had a soft rug.

Bucky. Bucky was saying your name. 

“Hey, hey. You’re okay.” 

He sounded close, so close. You blinked through your tears and saw he had dropped down beside you on the floor. 

“Sweetheart, can I - can I touch you? Is that okay?”

You nodded, peeking your head up to look at him. Everything was blurry. 

Slowly, he reached out and pressed one hand against your chest, firm. The other was running up and down your back. You listened to him carefully as he talked you through whatever this episode was, breathing in tandem as he applied just enough pressure to your chest and shoulders to really ground you beside him. 

He spoke your name, trying to keep your attention. “Talk to me, please.”

“Bucky - I..” You closed your eyes, sparing a moment to breathe at his pace. His hand pressed against your chest didn’t let up but he helped you lean back against the couch. “I’m scared.. Boone, he.. What if.. My hand..”

“I promise you’re never going to see him again.”

“No, no. I’m not..” Another deep breath. Your heart rate seemed to steady. “I’m not scared of seeing him. I want to.. I want to break his jaw or.. I wasn’t strong enough to even try..” You lifted your arm, tight in the cast and sling. “I won’t even be able to do that. He – I fucked up my hand and I - how can I even do my job or write anything or hold anything or even text? And I - I’ve never had surgery before and I’m - I’m scared something will go wrong and I won’t get to join the med team and I - How can I..” You could feel yourself starting to hyperventilate. “He kept yelling at me to fight back.. Fight back and-and prove myself! I should have – I should have just walked away, I should have–”

You couldn’t quite remember how the shift happened - but you were soon back on the couch, gently turned towards Bucky as he wrapped his arm around you. Time seemed to disappear as you cried into the crook of his shoulder. 

Maybe it wasn’t the most comfortable position as your hand pulsed in pain, but the close feeling, the touch of Bucky, the heat radiating from him - the combination soothed you. 

Bucky seemed to sense the exact moment your heart rate returned back to normal, as he very gently nudged you away just enough to peer down at you. He reached for your glasses and secured them back to where they belonged then offered you a soft smile.

“I don’t want to, uh, invalidate your feelings,” Bucky started then quickly paused. “Christ, I sound like Steve.”

That made you laugh.

“But you’ve gotta know that the doctor who's going to fix your hand will do a damn good job and while maybe you’ll have to take some time off work, you’ll be able to adapt until you fully heal. I promise.” He shifted and grabbed your available hand. “And surgery can be scary but I’ll be there the whole time and wait for you after, okay?”

“You’ll do that?”

Bucky seemed to falter after another moment. “Only if you want me, I don’t want to assume–”

“No, no. I do. I just..” You let out a slow breath. “I.. I’m really grateful to be right here, with you. I’m glad you didn’t leave my apartment earlier, even when I was pushing you out.”

Now he had a chance to laugh. “Yeah, I think we both know I wasn’t going anywhere, sweetheart. Now, you need to eat something. Any requests?”

Half an hour later Bucky was unpacking a delivery bag and handing you a meal and a dose of medication that you had brought home from the clinic. Admittedly, the warm food helped settle you even more and you had a feeling that you’d fall asleep quickly.

The bag hanging from Bucky’s door was full of overnight essentials, including a Stark Industries branded t-shirt and matching sweatpants. You managed to change and brush your teeth with only one hand, then found Bucky waiting for you in the hallway.

“I got my bed set up with extra pillows for you.”

You glanced into his room, then craned your neck to look back towards the living room. A lone pillow and blanket created a makeshift bed on the couch cushions.

Bucky answered the question on your mind: “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

You scrunched your face up. “No.”

“No?” Bucky repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Even with extra pillows, I think there is definitely room for us both.” You stepped into his room and surveyed the space. Again, although a bit basic and free from any excess, it felt like Bucky lived there. A framed picture of him and Steve lived on his dresser. A basket of unfolded laundry sat outside his closet door. An extra pair of boots leaned up against his bedside table. 

Bucky let out a long breath, saying your name quietly. He shook his head then motioned towards the bed. “Okay.”

It took a few moments to adjust into a position that felt comfortable enough for you. Bucky helped you rearrange some of the pillows before he very cautiously joined you in the bed, doing his best to not create any extra movement to jostle you. 

Silence took over a few moments later, when he reached down and grabbed your left hand. 

You squeezed his palm, speaking through a yawn. “This isn’t how I pictured us sharing a bed for the first time.”

He laughed in return, shifting against his pillow. “Me neither, doll.” 

Then, you heard Bucky move again. And after a sweet mumbling of goodnight, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

--

To say Bucky was reluctant to leave you alone was an understatement. But once you settled into his bed, the pain medication seemed to finally kick in and you were out like a light. He left a small note on the bedside table, near your phone, to let you know he’d be back quickly and to call for FRIDAY if you needed anything. As he slipped into the hallway, secured in a black hoodie, he glanced towards his phone.

Tony’s message had been nondescript, but Bucky understood enough he had information about Boone. Tony insinuated earlier he was already digging into the video footage and how to proceed, but knew Bucky would want to be informed every step of the way.

Not that it mattered - Bucky already had a plan: find Boone then kill him.

Okay, no, no. Bucky couldn’t kill him. He’d never take a life like that again but… well, he had already considered a thousand different scenarios that left Boone to deal with the consequences of his actions. 

Bucky cracked his neck as he got into the elevator, shooting up to Tony’s lab. He stepped out directly into the space, following the echo of Tony’s voice somewhere inside. Bucky found him standing behind one of his workstations, hands flying around as he swiped at the screens illuminated ahead.

Tony paused, pivoting slightly as he shuffled a few things around on his desk. He leaned towards the end of his workspace, hooked his foot on the bottom of a wheeled chair and slid it in Bucky’s direction.

“How is she?” Tony asked, perching on the side of his workstation as Bucky sat.

Bucky shook his head. How could he even answer that? “Finally sleeping.”

“I hope they gave her the good stuff.” Tony’s fingers tapped against the side of the desk. “You know, Dr. Alvarez told me your girl must have a high pain tolerance given the severity of that break.” Before Bucky even had a chance to defend your non-relationship status, Tony carried on. “But Barnes - she’s tough, really tough. Look.”

Bucky turned his head to the screens, as a series of video captures started playing on the screen. It was footage of you - from the training gym, during all your sessions the week prior. 

Tough didn’t seem like enough. You were strategic and resilient and smart. Sure, maybe you needed to work on your pace and Bucky could certainly give you some pointers when it came to aim, he was still impressed.

“Here’s the thing.” Tony paused the footage. “When this incident happened– listen, I know incident isn’t the right word here. But when it happened, someone retroactively cut out some security footage.” He shifted his hand and tapped the screen again. “I just recovered it. And I am looking into how that imbecile managed to bypass the admin code for the security logs.”

“Did you watch it?” Bucky held his breath, tearing his eyes from the screen back towards Tony who shook his head. 

“Not yet.”

Bucky flicked his hand to the screen, to signal for Tony to show him. Bucky stood from his chair and crossed his arms once the video started.

As he watched, the anger flared up in Bucky almost instantly. Just seeing you alone with Boone in the gym made his stomach drop but when Boone shoved you down, Bucky growled.

The footage didn’t have any audio, though Bucky had a feeling that if he could also hear whatever Boone had been shouting at you, he’d be trashing Tony’s lab just to deal with his frustration. 

At first, everything seemed normal enough. Bucky sucked in a breath when Boone pulled off your glasses. His fist clenched tightly when Boone pushed you down to your knees. When Boone’s hand touched your head…

“Good for her,” Tony muttered out when you quickly started to fight back. 

When Boone escalated things though - as your face dragged against the mat, as he pulled at your arms, how he followed up as you tried to crawl away, as he clearly shouted and stomped his feet down on your hand, Bucky couldn’t help but boil over. He let out another growl and grabbed a nearby stool, snapping it over his knee.

He dropped the wooden shards to the ground, apologizing to Tony before requesting he turn off the video.

“Listen,” Tony raised his hands, as if to forgive Bucky for the outburst. “I can’t put Pepper through the PR nightmare if you kill this guy.”

“I’m not going to..” Bucky sucked in a breath. Well, he wasn’t going to speak in absolutes or promises. He could barely see past the red in his eyes, there was no point in lying.

Tony let out a small yelp. “Oh, hold on. Let’s..” He dropped back down onto a rolling chair and moved towards one of his computer screens. “FRIDAY, let’s pull up the last 6th months of data for Agent Nathan Boone. Every swipe in, hour worked, blah blah blah. You know the drill.”

Bucky tried to follow Tony’s thought process, crossing his arms as he watched the screens compile different information.

“When does he usually go to the gym?” Tony asked, swiping ahead of him as he scanned over the data.

FRIDAY’s lilt echoed above them. “Agent Boone, on average, visits the gym every day he is on schedule. He first enters usually between 6 and 6:07AM.”

Tony nodded. “Okay, and when was the last time we did diagnostics on the gym security system?”

“Well, boss, this system doesn’t require regular diagnostics due to the software protection.”

“Right. Then it sounds like we’re due.” Tony shot a glance over his shoulder to meet Bucky’s gaze. “Let’s run it in the morning, around 6AM. Full system shut down - including cameras - for half an hour?”

Bucky grunted. “Make it an hour.”

--

 Following his visit to Tony’s lab, which actually concluded with sharing a glass of whiskey, Bucky made a plan. 

He returned to his apartment and bed, where he luckily found you still sleeping soundly. When you both stirred awake a few hours later, just shy of sunrise, Bucky encouraged you to stay in bed while he hit the gym.

You barely argued as your eyes fluttered shut again, wincing only slightly as you adjusted on the bed. Bucky promised to return with breakfast when he was done.

Then, he headed to the gym. He discovered easily how effective a piece of paper could be at deterring people from entering. One well placed ‘Closed for cleaning’ sign and a locked door kept anyone else from accessing the space after Bucky watched Boone enter.

A thousand scenarios flashed through Bucky’s mind when he saw Boone. On top of the flood of thoughts he wrestled with all night long, Bucky was simply itching to rearrange Boone’s entire dumb fucking face.

But, no. No. He had a plan.

Bucky rolled his head slightly, cracked his knuckles, then headed towards the weight area. It wasn’t hard to find Boone, given he was the only other person in the space. That and he was already proving himself obnoxious - blasting music from his phone instead of using headphones.

“Boone.” Bucky approached slowly. Boone looked up as he did, shifting slightly as he sat on the bench and giving Bucky a small nod.

“What’s up, Sarge?” Boone replied. “I guess you and I are the only early birds today. Usually a few more in here. Though with some of these new recruits, I guess I’m not surprised they don’t give a shit about training.

Bucky sucked in a breath before motioning to the weight rack behind Boone as he set up a bench press. “You need a spot?”

Boone shrugged. “Sure.”

“This your warm up?” Bucky smirked, tapping against the plates resting on the bar. “You’ve gotta be doing more than that these days. Cap told me he’s been impressed by your bulking.”

Boone let out a stiff laugh. “I hit a new max rep last week, actually. I realize that’s nothing compared to you and Cap .”

“C’mon then.” Bucky leaned forward and slapped Boone’s shoulder. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Boone stood up on impact, skepticism evident on his face before he sat again. But, he didn’t falter. “Sure.”

Bucky walked over to the weight rack and grabbed two additional heavy plates, sliding them on as Boone laid down and got into position. 

“Speaking of new recruits.” Bucky bristled as he tried to make convincing small talk with Boone and his dumb fucking face. If Boone thought it was out of character, he didn’t mention it. “How’d training go last week?”

Boone laughed, stretching his arms up to brace the bar. “Yeah, it went fine. Most of them passed. That’s on par with the recent cohorts. Usually one or two bail out.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky crossed his arms, doing everything in his power to reign himself in. 

“Makes sense. Most people aren’t ready - some will never be–” Boone pressed upwards, inhaling a sharp breath as he lifted the bar.

“Too much?” Bucky took half a step backwards.

“No, no.” Boone carried on, barely moving the bar up off the rack. “I’ve got it.” His arms fully extended, as the weight bar swayed slightly between his arms before he positioned it back in place.

Bucky returned to the weight rack and grabbed two more plates. “Nice. You got more in you?”

Boone hesitated, looking backwards to meet Bucky’s gaze. He nodded. “Absolutely.”

Once the new weights were settled, Bucky stood above him again. 

“Hey.” Bucky closed his eyes, moving to the side of the bench to peer down at Boone. Bucky said your name. “She was training with you last week, right?”

Boone froze momentarily then blinked. “Uh, yeah. I remember her.”

“Between you and me - how’d she do?” Bucky rested his hands underneath the bar, temporarily alleviating some of the weight as Boone pressed upwards again. “Do you think she was ready?”

Boone closed his eyes to focus on his lift. “Between you and me,” he echoed to Bucky. “That dumb broad will never be ready.”

A searing heat coursed through Bucky as he released his hands, stepping back as the overweight bar slammed down on Boone’s chest. Boone roared out in pain, whimpering as the entire barbell rolled down onto his throat. As his arms flailed at his side, trying and failing to push it away, Boone tried to call out for Bucky’s help.

Though his anger remained, watching Boone struggle was still enjoyable. And although Bucky would have been happy to see the barbell crush Boone’s windpipe, he eventually did step forward and reach for the weights.

With his left arm, Bucky removed the bar and threw the entire thing to the side. With his right hand, he yanked Boone up off the bench onto his feet.

“Did you forget how to spot me? The fuck?” Boone shouted, eyes widening as he rubbed at his throat. He swung his arm forward and pushed against Bucky’s chest.  “I could have fucking–”

Bucky snarled, shoving Boone back the same way - sending him into the rack holding the weights. Boone bounced off the structure and tumbled to the side, wincing in pain as Bucky stalked after him. “Why don’t you fight back?”

“Barnes, you’re out of your mind. What the fuck–”

“Fight back.” Bucky advanced closer, looming over Boone as he scuttled backwards on the floor.  “Prove yourself.” It was clear to Bucky that reference hit Boone directly. Although he couldn’t bring himself to snap back, Boone’s face grew red. An extra bead of sweat dripped down from his forehead, as he pressed against the wall.

Bucky crouched down, grabbing Boone’s jaw between his metal fingers. “What the fuck is wrong with you, huh?” Bucky said your name slowly. Boone’s eyes briefly widened. “What do you get out of beating up an agent?” 

“I didn’t–” Boone tried to shake his head. “Is she your little girlfriend or something? Listen, I wouldn’t have – I didn’t know she – What did she say–”

“It doesn’t fucking matter if she’s anyone girlfriend, you piece of shit.” Bucky grabbed him by the throat and pulled him back up to his feet, sparing a moment to spit in Boone’s face before he made his next move. Bucky dropped his hand and took one step back, stretching his arms ahead of himself before letting out a growl. “Fight back, Agent Boone. Prove. Yourself.”

--

Despite your nicely medicated sleep in Bucky’s bed, you were tired. And talking to a lawyer and Pepper and HR and a member of the NYPD police, Officer Reyes, about the entire situation again definitely contributed to your exhaustion. 

You were even on your second coffee but it didn’t seem to be helping. Bucky was practically holding you up as he sat at your side. You were in the medical wing at the tower, going through everything you needed before surgery. It had been scheduled quickly - probably at Tony’s request, given his relationship with Dr. Alvarez. And although you didn’t really want to think about the gravity of having surgery, you couldn’t help but look forward to the healing process. You wanted this all to be over already.

“That’s everything we need. You’re prepared for tomorrow. Start fasting at midnight!” 

You thanked your coworker, Jillian, for being a wonderful nurse and securing you back into your sling. Bucky helped you to stand, giving you a once over to make sure you were okay. 

Bucky had been quiet all morning. That wasn’t particularly out of character, but he seemed tense. You didn’t always see every side of him as friends and now with all this - things were shifting. You didn’t mind it, though. You welcomed it, especially after waking up in his bed and relishing in the sense of security that he was at your side.

“Hey Bucky?” You stopped him once you were outside the doors, heading in the direction of the elevators. 

He immediately frowned, searching your face as he turned to face you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” You offered him a reassuring smile. “But are you?”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes, extending your good hand to grab his. “If you can worry about me, you must know I worry about you too. Can’t help it.”

Bucky cracked a reluctant smile. “Okay. Well, try not to worry about me right now then, okay? You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Before you could hit him back with another defensive rebuttal, you were interrupted by your name being called down the hallway. It was Pepper and Officer Reyes, again.

You drew in a hard breath, relaxing a tiny bit when you felt Bucky squeeze your hand. He hadn’t let go, and it seemed he didn’t plan to. When the officer asked to speak with you, Bucky took the lead and guided you into the nearest consultation room to have the conversation privately.

Pepper opted to wait outside but Bucky joined you, arms crossed in front of the door while you sat opposite the officer.

You really liked Officer Reyes. She was patient, direct, and took her job very seriously. And right now, that meant dealing with Boone.

“Just to give you a fair update,” she started, folding her hands together on top of the table. “We had the arrest warrant prepared and although he swiped in for work and into the gym this morning, we actually found Nathan Boone at his apartment downtown. He came willingly. In fact, it seemed he was waiting for us. He’s been charged with assault in the third degree and you’ll be happy to know he pled guilty.” 

You sat back in your chair, a sense of relief flooding through you. Although you knew there was video footage and physical proof of Boone’s attack, you still had doubts the judicial system would work in your favour. 

“So, is that it?” You asked cautiously. 

Reyes nodded. “From you? Pretty much.” She tipped her head sideways briefly, considering. “I shouldn’t mention this, but given the circumstances, it must be some sort of karmic payback. Nathan Boone was in bad shape when we found him - the guy will probably need some medical attention himself. We asked him about his injuries but he had nothing to say. Fell down the stairs, so he says.”

“Bad shape?” You couldn’t help but ask. You didn’t have any sympathy for Boone but the curiosity surfaced. 

“I have a feeling he’ll have to squeeze in some x-rays and a visit to a dental surgeon in between his court dates.” Reyes stood and offered her hand, giving you a small smile. “I’ll be in touch if we have any loose ends.”

After she left, you remained in your chair, quiet for a moment before you motioned for Bucky to sit. He was sitting after one swift stride, locking eyes with you.

You started slowly. “I meant to ask. How was your workout this morning?”

Bucky was straight faced, matching your pose across the table. “Good.” 

“Nothing else to share?” You pressed, raising an eyebrow. 

“I always like to have a plan when I go to the gym and this morning, I did exactly what I planned on doing.”

You nodded then leaned back in your chair. You knew you could ask exactly what you wanted and he'd tell you the truth. But maybe it was better left unsaid. If you didn’t ask, he didn’t have to explain himself either. But, that didn’t make the entire thing any less of an internal debate.

Why did you care even a little tiny bit about Boone being injured? 

It wasn’t even about Boone. 

It was about someone inflicting pain on your behalf. But, wait. Then again – was there any chance Boone was feeling guilty for his actions? Fueled by his fucked up testosterone levels and short fuse? Why did you have to wrestle with your conscience when he didn’t show even an ounce of remorse for what he did? 

If Bucky had chosen to defend you, to wrestle with Boone instead… Well, maybe that was what needed to happen. 

You remained in a staring contest with Bucky, searching his face for anything. You could see something just behind his lips, a desire to say something else. Maybe he was worried he would upset you with the whole truth about what happened at the gym. If that was the case, you also knew Bucky wouldn’t apologize for what he might have done to Boone.

Bucky was strong willed. He stood up for what he believed in. He’d never want to see injustice or unfair behaviour being excused. 

You sighed then nodded again. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Bucky repeated slowly, tilting his head. “Sweetheart, I—”

“No. It’s okay.” You cracked a small smile. “Bucky, I—thank you. For last night and for not leaving my side and taking care of me, protecting me.. for everything.”

He said your name quietly, reaching across the table for your free hand. “It’s an honour.”

You sucked in a breath, blinking away the feeling of crying again.  “Don’t do that – don’t be cheesy. I won’t survive.”

Bucky just smiled.

--

Somehow an hour long surgery seemed like a lifetime to Bucky. He glanced at his phone to check the time again and let out a long breath, slumping down just a bit further in his chair. Despite your exhaustion, you had barely slept the night before and Bucky felt helpless, even with all his efforts to calm your nerves.

“I’m a nurse, Bucky. I’ve helped so many patients before and after surgeries and I’m still just – I want this to be over.”

Bucky knew you were okay, in the best hands Tony could pay for, but he was still desperate to see you roll back down the hallway, safe and sound.

After another chance to take some breaths and repeat a few of his safe mantras, Bucky looked at his phone. Instead of seeing the time, he saw ‘Sam Wilson’ popping up on his phone.

It had been a very easy task for Bucky - ignoring Sam for the past 48 hours. It was petty, childish even, but he still didn’t want to talk to Sam. Bucky was still sitting in an uncomfortable swell of anger over the whole situation. A situation that could be traced right back to Sam, in a way.

Bucky closed his eyes and finally brought the phone up to his ear when Sam called back again. He stood from his chair and started down the empty hallway.

“This is Sergeant Barnes.”

Sam immediately scoffed on the other end of the line. “Thanks for finally picking up.”

Bucky just grunted. “What do you want?”

“I want you to say out loud what’s bothering you so we can move past this.” 

Silence fell between them before Bucky finally replied again. “You put him in charge, Sam.”

“I have a lot of fucking regrets about that, Bucky.”

Bucky couldn’t help but wince when he heard Sam swear. In the field, Sam certainly had a mouth at times. But during the day to day operations of the job, back in the office, he was usually well restrained. Clearly, he was out of sorts, too.

“And I heard someone already went and put Boone in his place. There is only so much I can apologize for when that jackass cheated the system and misled me. Boone broke my trust and I can get over that. But I am fucking gutted I broke her trust. This never should have happened. I know that.”

“I know you know. I..” Bucky closed his eyes, pausing to rest against the nearest wall. Eventually, he left out a quiet laugh. “I don’t know what to do with my leftover anger, Sam.”

“You and me both, man. At least you got to crack him in the jaw a few times. Wish I could have been there.”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll tell you all about it in great detail. I owe you a beer, alright?”

“Whenever you’re ready to leave your girl's side, pencil me in.”

After he hung up with Sam, then exchanged a few messages with Steve, Bucky resumed his position of waiting for you outside the entrance to the surgical suites. He tried distracting himself with a few reports he had to go over and listened to a few tracks on a new playlist from Natasha. Eventually though, all he could do was stare at the door and be patient.

Soon enough, a nurse appeared at the door and signaled to Bucky he could come through. He was directed to a recovery area and finally, he could feel his shoulders relax. There you were - safe and sound. 

Bucky pulled up a chair beside your hospital bed, greeting you with a smile as you looked towards him. 

“Bucky!”

“Hey doll.” 

“She’s still coming back from the general anesthesia. She might be a bit out of sorts still,” the nurse confirmed, giving you another once over. “The doctor said everything went well and the office will be in touch about follow up appointments.” The nurse paused, giving Bucky a coy smile as she walked away. “She immediately asked for you when she started coming to - Sergeant Handsome.”

“I said that was a private nickname,” you whined, closing your eyes tightly. You tried to push yourself up slightly to sit, but were quickly stopped by your immobilized arm. “Ow.”

“Let me help,” Bucky stood up and adjusted the bed so you could sit up more. 

You turned to look towards him. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Bucky scooted his chair closer and sat again. “You feelin’ okay?”

You nodded. “Just a lil’froggy.. Foggy..”

“So, Sergeant Handsome? Were you talkin’ about me?” Bucky couldn’t help the smile on his face as you closed your eyes. Though it fell just as quickly when you frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I - can I tell you a secret?” You kept your eyes closed, letting out a slow exhale as you settled against the pillows propping you up. 

“Sure, doll.”

“Actually, no, no.” Your eyes shot open, narrowing again as you locked eyes with Bucky. “This hasta be a secret exchange.”

“A secret exchange?”

You licked your lips then used your good hand to point at him. “You tell me one first, then I tell you one. It’s fair.”

“I mean, you started this whole thing,” he laughed, then decided it was probably best to play along. The medication was clearly still making you a bit loopy and the last thing Bucky wanted to do was upset you any further in this state. “Okay. Let’s see.” He paused again then shrugged. “I met my nephew a few weeks ago.”

“Bucky! Oh, oh wow. That’s..” You reached for his closest hand and he met you in the middle. You squeezed his fingers but didn’t let go after. “I’m gonna cry - I’m so happy for you. When I.. I’m back to normal, I wanna hear all about it. Okay?”

“I can’t wait to tell you, sweetheart.” Bucky cradled your hand in his, rubbing his thumb against your skin. “Now, it’s your turn.”

You sucked in a breath and closed your eyes once more. “I’m.. I’m really sad we aren’t gonna have our date.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Who said we aren’t having our date?”

“We’re suppos’ta celebrate my new position and..” You shook your head. “Look’at me now.. No new job and-and a broken whatever–” You tried to move your casted arm and just winced, which quickly transformed into a yawn. “Who wants to date this..”

Bucky released your hand from his and leaned forward, bringing his palm up to cup your cheek. Exhaustion seemed to catch up with you as you fell back asleep.  “I promise we’re going on that date.” 

--

The first few days following your surgery were painful, as you probably should have anticipated. You insisted Bucky didn’t need to stay at your side the whole time - in fact, you knew he had work to do and an upcoming mission to plan for. Thankfully you had a few close friends in rotation who kept you company throughout your days and somehow an endless supply of credit with your favourite food delivery app, making your life a lot easier. (You assumed you had Tony to thank for that.)

You and Bucky still talked all day long. That made dealing with the pain a lot easier, too.

You: are you doing anything after work? You: if you’re free You: you could come over? Bucky: be there by 7 :)

“It’s going to leave quite the scar, unfortunately.” Your check up with Dr. Alvarez had downgraded you to a removable splint, which you were really relieved about. You were perfectly capable of handling the care yourself and it was nice to release the pressure on your hand.

You had taken the splint off to show Bucky when he showed up. You were sitting beside him on your small loveseat, catching up about your last few days. He was holding your hand gently in his own, tracing his finger lightly over your skin. 

Somehow, by some weird trick of your mind, it seemed like the pain had already become easier to tolerate. Like Bucky’s touch was helping settle your nerves and discomfort.

“Tony has this thing… it could help with that,” Bucky finally responded, his voice barely audible. “The scarring. I don’t know how it works but it can build synthetic tissue and..”

You smiled when Bucky looked back up at you. “Yeah, maybe.” It was clear Bucky was holding something back but you didn’t want to press. “Okay, I have a confession. I invited you here because I need help with something.”

He nodded. “Sure. Whatever you need. What is it?”

It was another unconventional first for you and Bucky and your new whatever relationship status. You had visions of a sexy steamed bathroom, shared laughter and maybe slippery hands and low moans and… This wasn’t how your first shower together was supposed to go.

You chewed on your lip as you tried to figure out the logistics. You had a semi-normal shower the other day, but it had been incredibly difficult if not impossible to get any soap or shampoo where it needed to go with an immobilized arm. Even now, without the splint, you barely had any range of motion in your hand. Plus you were supposed to be taking it easy.

“Okay, so. Let’s…” You turned towards the shower then back towards Bucky, who was standing only a few inches from you - thanks to your tiny New York City apartment bathroom. “I’ll be in the shower. Uhm, naked. Then when I need soap or shampoo or… whatever, I’ll stick my good hand out and you can give it to me.”

Bucky stifled his laughter. “Sure. I can… give you whatever you need, doll.”

“Bucky,” you whined, doing your best not to laugh along with him. “Don’t, please. I know this is weird.”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately sobered up. “I’ll, just..” He turned to face the door, away from you, as you stripped down and got into the shower. “Tell me when I should turn around?”

It wasn’t a very graceful process but it worked. Bucky was very polite and helpful with everything you needed. Truthfully, it would have been better to have him in the shower with you but you just weren’t there yet. Beyond sleeping side by side and cuddling on the couch, nothing further had happened between you. And well, that was expected - given everything. But your stupid injury really was getting in the way.

“Okay, just, uhm - my towel?” You turned off the water and reached out, feeling the fluffy fabric right away. You did your best to wrap it around your body then drew the curtain open again. Bucky was waiting for you, eyes closed tightly but with an extended hand to help you step carefully over the tub. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. “You can open your eyes - I’m covered.”

“Feel better?” He asked as he opened his eyes, offering you one of those soft, sweet Bucky looks you were coming to really appreciate and love. 

God, you didn’t want to fuck this up. 

“Here, let me..” Bucky took your injured hand and carefully fixed your splint back into place. Then, well, he filled in the small space between you both. 

You sucked in a breath as he positioned his forehead against yours, beads of water and condensation sticking to his skin. “Thank you,” you repeated, though you wondered if it was even audible.

He kept one hand safely holding your injured wrist while his other found a spot on your hip. He whispered your name with just enough inflexion for you to understand his unspoken question. As soon as you tipped your head into a nod, his hand left your hip and was encompassing the side of your neck, thumb running against your jawline.

Your tongue swept across your lips. “ Yes.”

Bucky’s lips met yours, gentle and rough and exactly what you imagined kissing Bucky might be like. A bolt of electricity surged through you, across every nerve. It was the perfect balm to forget about your wrist, about uncertainty, about anything but Bucky.

--

Although you knew you were returning to work on a modified schedule and task list, you had still been nervous about it. Especially because you didn’t know what everyone else knew about Boone and you and what had happened. But luckily you were welcomed back to cheerful coworkers and a very light workload.

And no one mentioned Boone or your injury. You did have to catch on newly updated mandatory company wide training though, directly related to substance abuse and security protocols. 

You got used to working with only one hand, which would still be the case for a few more weeks. But otherwise, things felt okay. And by the time your meal break rolled around, you couldn’t help but feel giddy about being back at the tower. Because you had a lunch date with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend Bucky Barnes. 

Not that having lunch with Bucky was new, but now it felt like so much more. Every single milestone in your relationship so far had been abnormal but this - this was perfectly ordinary. Although calling him your boyfriend still felt a little foreign on your tongue, you didn’t mind that change. 

When you spotted Bucky in the cafeteria, your knees nearly gave out altogether. You couldn’t help but grin when he stood to greet you, holding a bouquet of flowers in one hand. With the other he pulled you in for a hug, followed by a kiss on the forehead.

“Hi,” you said, using your freehand to brush against some of the petals. “This is unexpected.”

Bucky smiled, taking the seat across from you. “I was going to hand deliver them down to the med floor but I figured you might be a bit overwhelmed this morning. And maybe Sergeant Handsome would distract you from important work.”

You rolled your eyes, though it was impossible to hide your giddiness and fight off your warm cheeks. “You’ve gotta let that one go, please.”

“Absolutely not.” Bucky shook his head, still smiling. God, would you two ever stop smiling? There was something incredibly comforting about knowing Bucky was feeling just as wild as you were when it came to all these kinds of feelings.

Ever since he kissed you - when you were sopping wet and injured and a mess, all wrapped up into a towel - things had just been heightened. Not that everything had been smooth sailing, especially when it came to your pain and this recovery process, but going through all of it with Bucky was exactly what you needed.

Every time you struggled or hit a new roadblock, he let you have a moment to react then he simply cheered you through it. “You can do hard things,” he would echo back to you time and time again. (Which was particularly annoying sometimes, like when you were on your first official date and couldn’t twirl your pasta very well.)

As you were approaching the end of your lunch break, sharing a dessert with Bucky, you sighed. “Can I just say something out loud?” 

Bucky nodded. “Of course.”

“I just…” You reached to adjust your glasses as you found your words. “..can’t help but think about how right now I should be preparing to be on the field team and maybe even going out on missions to help and.. I’m just disappointed.” 

Bucky put down his fork, churning through his own thoughts before he replied.

You continued. “I mean, I guess there’s no way of knowing if I would have even passed the evaluation though. Seeing as I never even… it’s likely I might not have been ready. Maybe I’ll never be ready for it now. I have to start from scratch with this—” You held up your wrist. “I can’t even do the boring parts of my regular job with one hand. I have to do the extra boring stuff instead. I.. I’m just whining. I’m sorry.”

“Do you have to get back right away?” Bucky asked, grabbing his phone. He sent a quick message then stood, extending his hand out for you to grab. “Let me show you something.”

Your manager had told you to ‘take it easy’ your first week back, so running late from lunch probably wouldn’t be a problem. So, you grabbed Bucky’s hand and followed. 

The upper floors of the tower weren’t somewhere you had ever visited before. You shot up the elevator and nearly let out a gasp when you and Bucky arrived in Tony’s lab. It was huge - with bright lights, big windows and plenty of flashing screens. 

“Stark?” Bucky called out, keeping his hand tethered to yours as he guided you through the space. 

“Over here,” Tony called back, popping out from behind a screen. “It’s all loaded up. I’ve gotta run to meet Pepper and some very irritated investors but I’ve granted you full access to the video footage.” He turned towards you. “How’s the hand?”

You tried to give him a thumbs up. You winced. “Getting there.”

“I’ve got a good therapist - physical therapist, that is. No one can help this brain.” Tony tapped his temple. “I’ll send you his details.” 

Just as quickly as you arrived, Tony departed, giving one last pointed look at Bucky before he disappeared into the elevator muttering into his wrist. 

“Sit,” Bucky instructed, pulling a chair and positioning it in front of the screen. “Please.”

You let out a dramatic sigh before complying. 

Bucky sat in another chair at your side, picking up a nearby tablet. With a swipe of his hand, video footage appeared on the screen ahead. It started to play. 

It was footage of you - giving your all during your training sessions. From the sparring drills to physical challenges, you kept up and even performed better than some of the others. 

You snuck a glance towards Bucky, who was watching the footage with what could only be described as a proud smile. 

“You’re resilient, sweetheart,” Bucky said quietly, turning his head. “Although I could offer you some tips, you woulda past Sam’s eval - there’s no doubt in my mind.”

“Tips? Like what?” You couldn’t help yourself from smirking. “You wanna throw down on a gym mat?”

“Preferably a mattress, actually,” he muttered, raising an eyebrow as he paused the video. “Well, right there - you could have—” 

“Okay, I don’t need a play by play.” You nodded and let out a slow exhale. “I get it. I’m capable. I just have to.. get back to that.”

Bucky turned back to you again. “You’ll get there. I’ll help. I can be your personal trainer.”

“Okay.” You leaned over and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Now, about that mattress.”

--

 ONE YEAR LATER

Three months. It had been three months since you were officially on the field medical team. The job hadn’t been easy or soft - especially the first time you were dealing with bullet wounds in the middle of nowhere. 

The med team was a tight knit group though - you had joined a new training group following many months of recovery and training and luckily found a wonderful team of colleagues. Not only that, your time supporting major Avengers missions had been an incredible, and daunting, experience.

But today, three months in, you were finally on a mission with your boyfriend. Bucky’s speciality was covert ops and most of his missions were small-scale and secretive, with only a select team of Avengers involved. But this particular mission was a bit different - with the medical team joining later as things had escalated.

After everything had settled, including a few injured civilians who were assisted and transported for further care, everyone had returned to the jets with a long flight home ahead. You found a spot on the jet with Bucky, Sam, Steve and a few others. 

“Agent! Medical attention is needed over here.” 

You whipped your head around, searching for Steve and where his voice was coming from. You took a few strides forward, pausing as the jet started to take off. You found Steve sitting near the back with Bucky.

“This man is dying of a broken heart, apparently,” Steve rolled his eyes, pushing off from his leaning position and patting Bucky on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

You just sighed but couldn’t help smiling. You grabbed Steve’s arm before he got too far away. “Want me to clean that up?” You pointed to a small cut near his hairline.

Steve waved his hand. “Thank you but it’ll be fine by morning.” He gave you another smirk before heading to sit with Sam in the cockpit.

“What’s wrong with you, Sergeant Handsome?” You smiled at Bucky as you stood in front of him.

He reached out to place his hands on your hips, slotting you just between his legs as he sat. “Two hours with you and not even a kiss yet.”

“Oh my god,” you swatted his shoulder. “I was helping people. Your knives were flying all over the place. When was the optimal time for that?”

He replied with an exaggerated eye roll. “Alright, fine.” He extended his hand up to cradle your jaw, pulling you down to meet his lips. 

“Better?” You asked, shifting to take the seat beside him. 

“Much.” He nodded, turning enough to get a better look at you. “How are you doing though? I know today is–”

“I meant what I said the other night,” you cut him off. “Seriously.”

You knew Boone was getting out of jail after serving a year, which admittedly was the best sentencing you could have hoped for. Not that it really made up for his indiscretions but you knew you’d never see him again anyway. You didn’t want to waste anymore of your energy or time on him ever again.

“Forgetting he exists is only one thing. You know I can make sure he actually ceases existing and–”

“Bucky,” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m good. Truly.”

You lifted your right hand to stretch your fingers, taking a moment to admire the fancy glove Tony had designed for you. It was reinforced with something that gave you even more support when out in the field. You were grateful for it, though your rehabilitation had been successful. Slowly you pulled it off your hand, pausing to stare at the lines on your skin. All that remained was an occasional ache and some fading scars.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Bucky raising his right hand and you grinned. You knocked your knuckles into his twice then wiggled your fingers at one another. Before you could pull back, Bucky gently grabbed your hand and moved it closer, pressing a soft kiss against your scarred knuckles.

Maybe you were left with a few fading scars. And maybe every single step along the way hadn’t been easy. 

But you had Bucky by your side. Bucky, who you found unintentionally, whose touch filled you with life. 

And maybe that was all you needed.

[fanaticsnail]

Sending you this here cause I need The Masses™️ to be able to enjoy this concept

Reader & Stoic canon (SC) out doing something when it begins to snow, but the weather very suddenly picks up and then they're in danger. They manage to find somewhere they can take shelter, but reader has always run cold, and now they're at risk of dead ass just hypothermia. SC is also cold but struggling less than reader, and so what do they do?

Obviously they need to strip down to their underwear and cuddle for warmth.. duh! And if they've both had a bit of a crush on each other for a while, well that's their business. If that's suddenly much harder to ignore because they're cuddling almost naked.. well that's OUR business

Why must you do this to me, Logan 🤌. Because there is one man and one man only that I can picture with this beautiful snippet, and it's pulling me all the way back in. Here's a minific I wrote super fast with your concept because the man just got me.

Themes: Beckman x gn!reader, suggestive language not explicit, confession.

As the frost sinking it's teeth into your skin slowly ebbed away from your body, you're finally extremely aware of the larger form holding you flush against his bare chest. With his patterned cloak shrouding both of your bodies within the shelter of a cave mouth, it seems the situation had dawned on Benn Beckman as hastily as it did you moments prior.

It was not about affections at the time you stripped your snow-damp clothes away from your skins, nor was it when he lit a fire closer to the cave's entrance with his lighter. It was not about that slow and steady blush clawing up his neck and blooming in his cheeks when you offered him a simple touch aboard the Red Force - it was all simply a matter of survival out here in the thick snowstorm without your crew behind you.

Now that the instinctual survival practice forced you down to barely your briefs, bodies clamped together like two native otters slumbering in a riverbed, the attraction finally met the both of you while your breaths met in synchrony.

Beckman's grip tightened around your waist as he held you against his body, your back fully engulfed by his broad and bare chest, as he whispered softly in your ear.

"Before anythin' happens without me addressin' it," his warm breath licked against the shell of your ear as he softened his tone even further, "I'd like to both apologize if I get excited, and apologize further if I don't. Haven't had you in my arms like this before, and I don't want you to get the wrong idea or nothin', darlin'."

"What would the wrong idea be, Becks?" you spoke without the ability to recall your words as they fled your lips. Beckman's breath shuddered out in a steady, restrained, and soundless groan at your innocent question, forcing him to finally address the way that his soul begged him to unleash.

"That whatever's happenin' between us now will ultimately lead to more," his grip on your waist intensified, more as a comfort for himself than to reassure you, "I just want us to get outta' this alive, not have you beneath me and take advantage of you like this."

Your breath hitched in your throat at his reassurance. A small bout of bravery pulled at your chest and caused a bold whisper to run off your tongue as simply as water off a cliff's edge.

"...but what if I want you to?"

Benn Beckman stopped breathing all together, gritting his teeth in and scrunching his eyes tightly shut. The silver-haired first mate elicited a shaken exhale while he calmed his rapidly sprinting mind. Gently splitting the partician of his lashes, he gazed down at you through half-hooded eyes and leaned his lips closer to yours.

"I'd say I've been wanting to since you first came aboard, but needed you to know me as your crewmate first before anythin' else," he uttered with a purred rumble in his throat, "And that I wouldn't want it to be a one time thing. I'd want to settle down with you as my partner, Darlin', not just some squeeze in a random port - or a snow covered cave mouth. We both deserve better than this, but don't think the offers not temptin' me."

[dollesung]

WASTELAND, BABY .ᐟ

PAIRING. sunghoon x fem reader. GENRE. fluff. REQUESTED? yes. WORD COUNT. 2.9k SYNOPSIS. you get cheated on by your piece-of-shit boyfriend and run to your best friend, sunghoon's rescue. after letting him pick up the pieces of your broken heart, the two of you get more than you bargained for. WARNINGS. cheating (by a third party character), use of profanities, brief mentions of sex (no actual nsfw), alcohol.

NOTE. got carried away a lil bit and ended up liking this more than i expected to, im a sucker for domestic shit. hope u like it!

Love was a fucking bitch.

You once thought love was a beautiful thing, all sunshines and rainbows with clear skies and no end in sight. A forever sort of thing, that nothing could take away or destroy for you.

But all good things come to an end.

If you could even call your relationship with your (now ex) boyfriend good, anyway.

But even if it wasn’t perfect, you still mourned the end of it. You’d been together long, almost three years, but what made the entire ordeal much more painful, was that you caught the fucker cheating on you in your very own apartment.

So much for love, right?

And now, here you were, stood in front of your best friend, Sunghoon’s apartment door, with nothing but your phone and wallet in hand.

You knock at the door, trying to contain your emotions as you wait for a response. You stormed out of your apartment so fast, you didn’t even bother to wait and listen to whatever explanation your ex, or the woman in his bed had to offer.

Everything was starting to get overwhelming, thankfully, the door finally swung open, revealing your best friend, clad in his pajamas, hair messy and eyes squinting against the light in the hallway.

“[name]?” He called out. “What are you doing here?”

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

Sunghoon hadn’t even done or said anything else, but it’s like a dam just burst inside you. You felt your emotions explode, and you started sobbing, running into Sunghoon’s arms as the boy confusingly, but without hesitation, took you in his embrace.

“What happened?” He asked, pulling you inside and closing the door, locking it shut.

“It’s Drew,” you muttered between sobs. “He cheated on me!”

Sunghoon frowned, tightening his embrace. “Oh, I’m so sorry, [name].”

“He was fucking another woman in our bed!” You exclaimed, hiding your face into your hands. “What kind of bullshit is that?!”

Sunghoon sighed, but said nothing else, and only led you to the couch. The two of you sat in silence, with nothing but your sobs echoing throughout the room.

Sunghoon had leant against the arm of the couch, allowing you to lay against his chest, still crying your eyes out as your best friend rubbed your arm in comfort.

Minutes pass, and your cries begin to die down. You still felt miserable, but the exhaustion was taking a toll on you. Sunghoon must’ve noticed.

“You need anything?” Sunghoon asked as you sat up to catch your breath. “Water? Food? Need me to come over there and beat the hell out of him?”

You chuckled at his joke, knowing Sunghoon, he could never hurt a fly, even if he tried. “He’ll kill you.”

“Not if I get to him first,” he jokes, and you smile a little.

“Sorry I barged in like this,” you apologized. “Just didn’t know where else to go.”

“Hey,” he called out, and you look at the genuine expression on his face. “You can always barge in here. Especially if something like this happens.”

You sighed. “I feel so stupid.”

“Don’t,” Sunghoon warns. “Don’t say that. You have nothing to feel stupid about. He should be the one feeling stupid.”

“Still, I should’ve known better, y’know? You guys have always told me how bad Drew was. Should’ve listened a long time ago.” You berated yourself.

“Beating yourself up about it won’t help,” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

“I know,” you replied. “Don’t know where to go from here.”

“Only way to go is up,” your best friend says.

In the end, you nod. “Can I stay here for a bit? If it’s okay with you?”

Sunghoon offers a reassuring smile. “Stay as long as you like.”

You end up taking Sunghoon on that offer, as you spend a few weeks living under the same roof. You had nowhere else to go, anyway, as you used to live with your ex, and your parents live states away, and you couldn’t move back in since your job required you to live nearby.

Thankfully, Sunghoon was more than happy to keep you around. Of course, you felt guilty about staying and wanted to pay him back in a way, so you ended up taking care of most of the housework.

When you weren’t preoccupied with work or stuck in the office, you busied yourself with chores. You knew Sunghoon was a neat freak, but since the boy worked a 9 to 5 job, you took it upon yourself to ensure that the house was in tip top shape whenever he got home.

You also tackled grocery-shopping, laundry, and even utilized your basic knowledge in plumbing by fixing the leaky pipe in his sink.

But the number one thing you always made sure, was that Sunghoon would never come home to a house with no dinner.

It was a trait you picked up from your mother, where she always made sure food was on the table whenever your father came home from work. You would’ve done this with your ex-boyfriend, too. If only he wasn’t freeloader.

It was already 5 minutes past 6 PM when you finished cooking dinner. The table was already set, and in a few minutes, Sunghoon would arrive. You already memorized his schedule; 5 PM he’d clock out of work, by 5:15, he’d be at the subway, and 45 minutes later, he’ll make it home.

Right on time, you hear the lock by the front door and in comes Sunghoon, carrying his book bag. He immediately notices the scent of dinner wafting through the entire apartment.

“[name], I’m home!” He calls out, shrugging his coat off and leaving his shoes by the door.

“Dinner’s ready!” You announced.

He walks in the dining room, pleased to see you setting tonight’s dinner on the table. “Another delicious meal, I see.”

You beam at the praise, glad that Sunghoon appreciated your efforts. Sunghoon excuses himself to go wash his hands first, and you sit in the chair and wait for him to come back.

The two of you eat dinner in remote silence. Words are shared here and there, but you let Sunghoon enjoy a little peace as you know he’s had a long day. He doesn’t let up on praising your work, however.

“This is delicious,” he says. “Is this beef?”

“Mhm,” you nod, swallowing a mouthful of food. “I swung by the farmer’s market yesterday and got a good price for it. Just thought you’d enjoy a good roast beef.”

“I do,” he hums. Then, he lets out a short chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You ask.

“Nothing,” Sunghoon shakes his head first. “We just kinda.. sound like a married couple.”

The fork makes a loud clang! as you accidentally drop it against your ceramic plate. You nearly choke on a piece of beef as you try to cough it out. Sunghoon’s statement rendered you a little shocked, but you try to pass it as nothing.

“S-Sorry,” you apologize, composing yourself.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Sunghoon utters. “I made you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you defended. “Just.. shocked at what you said.”

Sunghoon clears his throat, and you swear you can make out just the tiniest hint of rosiness in his cheeks. “Well, I didn’t mean it in a negative way.”

“I know, I know,” you say. “It’s fine, just forget about it.”

A little disheartened, Sunghoon drops the subject and returns to his meal. The two of you go back to eating in silence, except this time, there’s a slight tension in the room.

A few minutes pass and you pick up conversation, “By the way, I’m going back to my apartment tomorrow.”

“Oh?” Sunghoon vocalizes. “Why?”

“Just gonna pick up the rest of my stuff,” you inform him.

“Will Drew be there?” He asks, worriedly.

“He might be,” you say. “But I’ll be fine. I won’t stay there long.”

“Maybe I should go with you,” Sunghoon states.

You shake your head. “You’ve got work, I’ll be fine.”

Perturbed by your icy tone, Sunghoon once again drops the subject. He’s worried about your safety, but more importantly, he’s worried about you not coming back, that you might end up with Drew again and leave him here.

Sunghoon finished his food, and prays a silent prayer that that won’t happen.

Sunghoon is in the middle of work when he receives your text.

[name] <3 omw to the apt. might be home late, get urself some dinner and don’t wait up!

If he’s being honest, he’s worried about what will happen when you come home. He overthinks if you might end up getting back together with Drew, which is his current biggest fear, not only because he knows how bad that man is for you, but because…

Well, Sunghoon has liked you for a while now.

Like a long, long while.

A good nine years, maybe? Since the two of you met in high school. But he could never act upon it or confess because he has been, and always was a shy man.

So, he settled for being your best friend, even if he had to watch as countless men continued to treat you wrong, and even if he was always the one wiping your tears at the end of every failed relationship.

It was better than not having you, anyway.

He goes home after his shift, and ends up forgetting about dinner. Before you started staying with him, Sunghoon always ate either cheap convenience store ramen or street food for dinner, as those were the easiest food to come by on his way home.

But ever since you started preparing dinners, he found himself looking forward to going home every night, wondering what food you had prepared.

More importantly, knowing you were home, waiting for him, made his heart so, so happy.

He knew it probably meant nothing to you, but to him, it meant everything. That’s why he had that slip up last night, because he genuinely felt like you two were a married couple.

But then again, good things come to an end, don’t they?

Sunghoon ends up waiting for you. It’s past midnight, he’s sat in his couch watching some late night show he doesn’t care about. He periodically takes a look at his phone to check if you’ve messaged or called. By 1:21 AM, he’s starting to think if you spent the nigh in your apartment. His heart sinks at the thought.

Thankfully, he hears the lock click and the front door swing open. You enter, with a bag on your shoulder and a cardboard box in your hands. Immediately, you spot him by the couch.

“I told you not to wait up,” you scold. “You have work in the morning.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, which was true. He wouldn’t have been able to sleep knowing you weren’t home. “What happened? Did you talk to Drew?”

“Kind of,” you utter, placing the box on the floor by the couch, while taking off your shoes. You plop next to Sunghoon just as he shuts the TV off. “We fought.”

“About?” Part of him feels guilty that he’s relieved you guys fought and didn’t make up, but he pushes that feeling down.

“‘Bout us,” Sunghoon notices your speech is a little slurred, and there’s a slight stench of alcohol from your breath. “He complained about me leaving, ‘bout how I haven’t been responding to any of his messages.”

“And?” He pries. “What’d you say?”

“Told him to fuck off,” you laughed. “Then I went to a bar and drank my ass off.”

“You should’ve called me,” Sunghoon scolded. “I could’ve picked you up or booked you an uber.”

“It’s fine,” you say, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna bother you more, anyway.”

“You’re not a bother,” Sunghoon says. “Never.”

Then, filled with alcohol-induced bravery, you look up at Sunghoon and asked him a question. “Why’re you doin’ all this, anyway?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “‘Cause you’re my best friend and you need a place to live?”

“No, no, not that,” it was more than evident that you were drunk now. “I mean, you keeping up with my shit. I always end up pickin’ the wrong guys but you never blamed me! You never leave. Whyyyy?”

Unsure of what to say, Sunghoon gives himself a minute to respond. Then, he shrugs again. “I-I don’t know. I just do.”

You laugh due to drunken stupor, then, the liquid courage urges you to say something you’d have never said to Sunghoon sober:

“You like me, don’t ‘ya?”

Sunghoon freezes, eyes widening at your statement. “What?”

“I knew it!” You exclaim, smiling. “I always knew ‘ya liked me but I didn’t wan’ assume—!”

“[name], you’re drunk—“

You cut him off. “I may be drunk buuut I know what ‘m sayin’!”

Trying to prove a point, you stood up, but the sudden movement caused you to be dizzy, and you nearly fall over, if it weren’t for Sunghoon who caught you.

“Let’s just go to bed and talk tomorrow, hm?” He suggests, and you find yourself agreeing.

He leads you towards his bedroom, where you usually sleep. He tries his best to rid you of your extra layers, leather jacket, accessories, socks.

He’s halfway through sliding off your other sock when you speak up, still in a drunken haze.

“I like ‘ya too, y’know?” You say, and Sunghoon swears his heart just started beating a thousand times per minute.

“You do?” He implores himself to ask.

You nod. “Mhm. I-I never thought you’d like me back, soooo, I dated other guys buuuut they weren’t you.”

Sunghoon flushes at your statement. Perhaps some of what you were saying were true, considering that alcohol always made you honest.

“Let’s talk tomorrow, m’kay?” You nod at Sunghoon, and in a second you were already half asleep. Sunghoon grabs the blanket and tucks you in, leaving the room to crash in the couch.

If you remember any of this in the morning, he’ll worry about it then.

Your head was pounding.

You definitely regretted drinking all those shots at the bar last night, but they seemed like a good idea at the time.

Glancing at your clothes, you were still dressed in what you went out with yesterday. Fortunately you didn’t wake up in some stranger’s apartment, and found yourself in Sunghoon’s be—

Sunghoon.

Memories of last night came back flooding your head, and you cringe at them all. You never meant to interrogate Sunghoon, let alone confess to him, but alcohol came with poor judgement.

After a few minutes of hitting yourself in the head, you managed to get out of bed and into the living room. A quick look at the clock states that it was already 2:41 in the afternoon, and that you should probably make yourself a late lunch.

“You hungry?” The voice makes you jump, and you turn around to see Sunghoon sat on the couch.

“You scared me,” you said. “Don’t you have work?”

“Took a day off,” he informs you. “Needed to make sure you’ll be okay.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” you frowned.

“Can we talk? Before you eat?” Sunghoon says, and even though you dreaded it, you nodded anyway.

You sat beside your best friend as you thought of every possible scenario that could play out next. You had half the mind to think if he was gonna kick you out, but you knew Sunghoon was better than that.

Thankfully, he saved you from your own paranoia.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking apologetic. “Look, I’m sor—“

“You’re right,” Sunghoon cut you off before you could finish.

“Huh?” You ask. “About what?”

“About me, liking you,” he responded. “I do, like you, that is.”

“Oh,” you felt a wave of emotions crash over you at once. Relief, joy, contentment, you’re not sure which ones.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asked you this time, and it took you a moment to respond.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I-I mean it. I liked you for a while but I didn’t wanna say anything ‘cause I thought you didn’t like me. But then we started living together and I started to notice things.”

Sunghoon hummed. “Okay.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “‘Okay’?”

Sunghoon shrugged. “What did you want me to say?”

“I dunno,” you admitted. Granted you had no idea what to do next, but this whole thing was just so odd. “What happens next? I mean what are we now? Are we still best friends?”

Sunghoon merely offered a reassuring smile. “[name], you just got out of a relationship, a bad one, yes, but you still need to heal from that. I like you, but I don’t want you to just end up settling with me because I’m all you have.”

“I woul never just “settle”for you,” you replied, feeling a little flustered. “I just feel.. confused, I guess?”

“Yes, I do like you, yes, you’re the one I want to be in a relationship with, and yes— we are still best friends.” Sunghoon reassures.

You smiled, feeling relief take over your entire body. “Good.”

“And when you are ready, I’ll be here, I can wait a bit more,” he states. “As long as you keep making dinner.”

You rolled your eyes, and playfully hit the boy in his chest.

Love might be a fucking bitch at times.

But occasionally, it gets some things right.

NOTE. i like and hate this one at the same time, RAAAAH. i finished this at 5 in the morning and i have a 10 am class later. fuck it, worth it.

© dollesung 2025

[dreameyess11]

And she feels like home

Jason Todd x Reader

It’s nearing midnight when the rhythmic tapping on the window pulls you from the quiet comfort of your book. You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. That sound is familiar. Rising from the couch, you pad softly to the window. Pulling back the curtain, your heart sinks.

There he is—Jason Todd—leaning against the window frame, a silhouette of leather and exhaustion. His helmet dangles loosely from one hand, the other clutching his side. Blood trickles from a cut above his brow, streaking his face.

“Jason!” you gasp, hurriedly unlocking the window and helping him inside.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he rasps, his voice strained but laced with the wry humor you know so well. “Miss me?”

Your worry turns into a flurry of activity. You guide him to the couch, muttering something about stubborn vigilantes. He winces as he settles down, his usual confident demeanor dimmed by pain.

“What happened?” you demand, kneeling before him to inspect the damage.

“Bad night,” he mutters. “Some gang thought they could take me out. Clearly, they didn’t succeed.” His smirk is fleeting as he winces again.

“Jason, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.” Your voice cracks, tears threatening to spill. “You scare me every time you show up like this.”

He reaches out, cupping your cheek with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the apology in his eyes far deeper than the words. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just… I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

Your chest tightens. You can’t stay mad, not when he looks at you like that. Gently, you remove his gloves and begin cleaning his wounds. His shoulders relax under your touch, tension melting away as you care for him.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this alone,” you say softly, wrapping a bandage around his arm. “You can lean on me, Jason. Always.”

For a moment, he says nothing. Then he reaches out, pulling you into his lap with surprising strength.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

“Maybe not,” you tease, your lips quirking into a small smile. “But you’re stuck with me anyway.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rough but filled with warmth. His arms tighten around you, and you feel his breath against your skin.

“Thank you,” he says after a long pause, his voice barely audible.

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence, the only sound your steady breathing as you hold each other. In that moment, nothing else matters—just the quiet promise of your love and the hope that, no matter what, you’ll face the chaos of his world together.

[ninadove]

And because I now have fancy new tags to put to good use…

Thoughts on Miraculous S6 E2: The Illustrhater 🎨

Please note that this is a salt-free space. I do not want to see even a grain of salt in my notes. You will be blocked on sight. Cool? Cool. (And even if it’s not cool with you… well… blocked on sight… so…)

First things first: the new animation style is actually really cute and works really well in context! Chat in particular looks great, contrary to what that first promotional poster made us fear. Adrien as a civilian might be the one who suffered most, probably because of the hairstyle change… It will need some getting used to, but overall, I like what I’ve seen so far. So much love and care was put into the smallest details, like the sparkles on Mari’s tights!

Special mention:

SHE HAS SPIKES????? LITTLE HAIR SPIKES????? IN HER HAIR????? AND DRAGON SCALES????? AND SLIT PUPILS????? AND HER SUIT LAYS EVEN MORE INTO THE ASYMETRIC VIBE, HIGHLIGHTING HOW MUCH INDEPENDENCE SHE GAINED AND HOW COMFORTABLE SHE IS WITHOUT THE PRESSURE OF BEING PERFECT ALL THE TIME????? AND SHE LOOKS SO HAPPY????? LIKE SHE’S HAVING SO MUCH FUN????? LIKE SOMEONE IN HER LIFE HAS BEEN A GOOD INFLUENCE MAYBE????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺

… Apologies, I seem to have lost the plot for a minute. Where was I?

Oh, yeah. If one thing is clear from this first look at S6, it’s that Marinette’s secrets will catch up to her at some point. The writers lay it on thick in both Alyanette scenes and with the “Even as superheroes, they share everything” DJWiFi/Love Square contrast! It’s not exactly a surprise, but with how many people claimed we would never hear a single word about the Agreste plotline again, I feel somewhat… vindicated.

Marinette not knowing how to act around Adrien actually makes a lot of sense to me? She’s had to be his rock through his grieving process, meaning she has functionally not left Ladybug Mode since the end of S5. Of course when she gets a chance to chill and actually do regular couple things, she gets terribly scared! Seeing her trying to imitate other couples was so funny and cute… Did you know I love her… And Adrien was such a wet cold lost kitten through it all… Did you know I love him…

That being said, this felt like an Alyanette episode first and an OT4 episode second. I loved seeing these four work as a group again! Nino was simply too precious and I loved Adrinette “““covering up””” for Renapace. Rena grabbed Ladybug’s hand for their little manoeuvre like it was second nature to her, which is very reminiscent of Bumbleby from RWBY, aka the Sapphic Battle Couple!

(And that Chekov’s gun… I’m sure we’ve all seen Chekov’s gun…… We shall not mention it yet……… It’s there and we know where it’s headed…………)

But of course. Of course. The character who shone the brightest in this episode? Was Lila.

It’s clear from the get-go how different she is from Monarch!!! Smarter, more manipulative, but perhaps also… more compassionate, in a twisted way…? She gives her victims the illusion of choice (“Only if you agree, of course” // “And what shall I call you?”), making herself small when she first approaches them only to reveal her full size when the magic takes over.

AND YET it seems to me she must know pain intimately to leverage it so well… Really makes you ponder the Manon theory, especially when comparing Illustrhater and Puppeteer’s costumes…

Another key difference with Gabriel is that she is on the field, constantly observing and taking notes, which is extremely scary but also exposes her to more risks. I’m very curious to learn more about this chameleon magic of hers and what she means by “you’ll know nothing about me, about us, bout them”… She seems to think of herself as the center of a web, a spider rather than a butterfly, if you will!

(Also, the more I think about it, the more convinced I am that the Diabolo menthe reference was intentional!)

[moronwithoutmo]

Phantom definitely has a huge ass crush on Aether when he’s first summoned. The kind of crush where you admire them so much that you feel like you shouldn’t even talk to them because they surely have more important things. Maybe phant sort of ends up avoiding directly addressing Aether for a while, scared to interrupt him when he’s talking or be presumptuous about their relationship as his replacement in the band.

Aether likes Phantom, the cute little quint is very unique and he feels close to him immediately because of their shared element. He understands Phantom’s avoidance as the newbie being intimidated by him so he makes a point to be extra relaxed around him, chatting more than usual, bringing up topics he thinks phant would like, but it doesn’t have the affect he thought it might. Bug seems tense whenever he shows familiarity, but he can scent the positive feelings on Phantom, so he hasn’t any idea in hell why the guy clams up with him around. It doesn’t deter him though, he just pulls back to find another angle of attack.

Dew points out in passing that the new quint ghoul has a fat crush on him and it hits him like a truck. Aether can’t wipe the goofy grin off his face for the whole day. His new mission is to court Phantom.

Phantom’s life for the next few weeks is chaotic. Aether went from his normal demeanor to distant for a few days, straight into showering him in attention. He’d come in to practice early only to find his guitar already tuned in the particular way he likes it, sticky note attached to the instrument with a lavender heart scribbled on it. He wakes up groggy and stumbles to the kitchen, drawing up short in the doorway, eyes bugging out as he watches Aether lumber around the room in boxers and an apron, cooking his favorite breakfast. Aether catches his eye and winks with a fangy grin. He finds himself sat at the table, steaming blackberry waffles set in front of him, and the big ghoul ruffles his bed head before kissing the same spot. The waffles are cold before he can move again.

Bouquets of withered roses in every nook, his favorite sweets left on his pillow, a fucking poem?? (It’s NOT good, but he loves it because Aether wrote it) Phantom’s heart can’t take much more of this and he endeavors to confront Aether about his behavior. It’s movie night, everyone is getting snacks and milling about, but Aether is already sitting on the couch. The little quint takes a deep breath and stomps over to stand in front of him, but can’t get a word out before Aether is smiling and dragging the lean man into his lap and nuzzling into his neck. Phantom heats immediately and whines up at the ceiling, but everyone is filing in and getting comfortable as they start the movie (romcom), so he doesn’t say anything yet again.

Phantom can’t focus on the movie because of feeling Aether’s body move with his breathing and the warm air that tickles his neck. The big quint tightens is arms around Phantom and nibbles his ear. Phant can’t take it anymore and mewls loudly, everyone glancing over at him. He scrambles out of Aether’s lap and bolts out of the room. He curls up in a corner near the bookshelf in the common area and soon enough Aether’s heavy footsteps follow him and the man kneels down in front of where he hides. He just smiles and plucks him out of the corner, gentle kiss pressed to phantom’s lips.

Aether tells him he loves him and he starts crying, bewildering the big ghoul. He begins to apologize but phant shakes his head and confesses everything he’s been feeling until now, big wet tears sliding down his face.

They make up for lost time with slow sweet sex while everyone finishes the movie.

[antheshewro]

Undeground!Levi, who couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the Scouts' headquarters for the first time. The bathrooms with hot running water, the food in the pantries, the beds in the dormitories. No cockroaches scurrying around the place, no mold, no stuffy air. No surviving with leftovers, days-old food, stolen food. No makeshift toilets, pissing or shitting on the street, cleaning himself with whatever he found. No personal hygiene products that irritated his skin or scalp, since that was all he could find, and that he had to use.

Undeground!Levi, who felt like it was too good to be true. What was the catch? What if they sent him back out on the street at any moment? After the law of the jungle had kept him alive, all those comforts didn't sit right with him. As if they were making fun of him—mocking him. Was this how people lived on the Surface, with all these comforts and conveniences? He couldn't believe it. It was some kind of hallucination or dream given by the pangs of hunger, and when he would wake up, he would have been in his home, in the Underground. What he saw was not to be trusted, nor were the kind words of his companions who told him that "it would be fine" there.

Undeground!Levi, who sneaked out of his room to get to the kitchens and the pantry room, where the Scouts stored the food exclusively used to cook meals and for times of scarcity—therefore, off limits, unlike the food kept in the cupboards. Just a piece of bread, some goat cheese, and maybe some ham; he saw no harm in it. Until he came face to face with Shadis, who descended to the kitchen to grab something to eat and drink before he would resume his tedious work, and heard noises from the pantry. Thinking it was because of rats, the Commander opened the door and found Levi there, with food in his hand, caught red-handed. Shadis' deep voice echoed around the kitchen, waking up a handful of soldiers that thought that it was a titan roaring. Even the guards, outside the main doors of the headquarters, were quite concerned about that scream.

Underground!Levi, who saw a few soldiers keeping Shadis away from him as he left the food there. He could understand why he was enraged—he had been informed about the rules of the headquarters once he joined, a few days earlier. Yet, that instinct of not trusting anyone but himself, to rely on his survival instincts, to getting food as he always had prevailed. He felt uncomfortable, inside himself; guilty, sheepish, hurt by himself. He had been a thief, but he still had manners—his own. It was difficult for the others to understand, and even more difficult for him to explain.

Undeground!Levi, who decided to leave the kitchen with his stomach growling. He wasn't going to apologize, not even if they punished him. He did nothing wrong, because he did the only way known to him to survive and feed himself. Although he felt uneasy, in the depths of his heart, he couldn't fully grasp it. He said nothing to Furlan or Isabel; too embarrassed of it, not wanting them to be worried about him. Trying to keep his façade on.

That night, he got away with it. But ten years later, when he was offering lollipops to the little kids who survived the Rumbling, at the refugee camp in Marley, he saw a boy stealing a sweet from his box. His face was the definition of guilt.

That was when he knew. And he offered that boy another candy.

[alastor-x-reader-stories]

Hey! I was wondering if you could write sequel to selfish or something similar because im the mom/therapist to most of my friends and that one shot was greatly loved by me! no rush tho I absolutely love all the stuff you've made

okay. thanks for the kind words too (❁´◡`❁) ----- SELFISH PT 2

You’ve been standing in front of Alastor’s bedroom door for a good ten minutes. On one hand, you craved his company, on the other hand, Alastor was a sadistic manipulative sociopath with extremely violent tendencies. Logically the answer was to walk away. You didn’t. Though you didn’t knock. You didn’t know if you wanted to knock.

You were so tired.

So tired you just couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. You sighed and took a step backwards, preparing to turn and walk off when the door opened. Alastor stood there, his head cocked to the side.

“Did you need something, dear? I assume so saying you were standing there for quite a while.”

You stared at him. Any words you had planned leaving you to your own devices. Your feet moved on your own accord, stepping up to the Radio Demon and you slumped, resting your head against his chest. Alastor didn’t move or respond. Perhaps you were slumping against the wall and imagining it was Alastor. You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Alastor let out a heavy sigh, his warm breath fanning over your head. A wave of self-conciousness overwhelmed you. Taking a step back – Well, you were going to take a step back. Force a smile, apologize, then meander off to deal with your problems solo. Instead, as you went to move, Alastor hooked one arm under your knees and another across your back and picked you up bridal style with all the ease in the world.

“Do I weigh anything to you?” You said with a small smile.

“Weight is not a relative measurement, dear.” He hummed as he carried you into his room.

“It kind of is? Depending on the planet, or even on Earth it can depend on the alleviation.” You rambled mostly to yourself.

“Relative from person to person.” He clarified.

“Aw.”

Alastor dropped you onto his bed without ceremony, laughing as you flailed about in surprise. You shot him a glare he ignored and decided to just curl up onto your side, your back to him.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You muttered, eyes drooping.

The bed creaked as Alastor put his weight on it. One clawed hand gently ran through the hair on your head. You melted at the gentle touch.

“You’re never a bother.”

“Oh, that’s such bullshit.”

“Ha! Okay, fair enough.” Alastor snorted his amusement “The amount of bothering you are doing is inconsequential, is that better?”

You chuckled at the bluntness “Yeah. Thanks for being honest.”

The silence lingered. You closed your eyes, feeling overwhelmed by ….. feeling overwhelmed. Your body felt heavy, your heart felt constricted, your mind felt like cotton. All the while Alastor stroked you head, humming gently.

The peaceful quiet was broken by a harsh, cracking sob. Alastor’s humming stopped the same moment his hand froze. You coughed harshly and curled in tighter on yourself. You felt pathetic.

“I’m sorry-“ You said, trying to stifle your sobs “I-“ This was too much, too embarrassing. You got up quickly and headed for the door “I’m sorry- please forget this happened, I’m…. Sorry!” You ran off, not looking back at Alastor. He didn’t say anything and didn’t stop you.

You ran back to your room, slamming the door shut behind you and pressing your forehead to it as you took long, shaky breaths. What were you thinking? You shouldn’t have bothered anyone with your emotions. Let alone Alastor. He already helped you once, going out of his way to comfort you. Asking for more was just selfish. The Radio Demon no doubt had other things he could be doing and you had no right to interrupt them just because you were sad.

“I’m so pathetic.” You whispered to yourself, pulling away from the door. Wiping your eyes you went to your bed, kicked off your shoes, and collapsed onto the covers. The best thing to do was wait for it to blow over, then you can go back to helping the others. They all had their own problems to deal with, so you shouldn’t be bothering them with yours.

At some point you must have fallen asleep. Because when you opened your eyes again, you were tucked in under the covers, surrounded by overly fluffed pillows, soft jazz was playing from somewhere, and Keekee was sleeping on your stomach.

“Good Morning, dear!” The familiar staticy voice rung out. Almost swaddled in soft things, it took you a moment to wiggle free enough to look at Alastor.

He was sitting at the foot of your bed, reading some novel or something with his legs primly crossed and a cup of coffee in one hand.

Keekee let out a disgruntled meow and you relented and started stroking her back gently. The cat settled again, purring her satisfaction. Silently you looked at Alastor, tilting your head in your unvoiced question.

“Coffee?” Alastor said, motioning with his mug for emphasis.

“Er…No thanks.” You said “Alastor, what’s going on….?”

“I asked if you wanted coffee?” He said it like it was obvious, head tilting at an unnatural angle.

“No, I mean….This?” You motioned vaguely at your bed.

“Haven’t the faintest idea!” He hummed “You didn’t come down for breakfast so I trotted along to check on you and here you were!”

You glanced at the clock on your bedstand. “…Breakfast isn’t for another hour.”

“Clearly that clock is behind.” Alastor said flippantly, sipping out of his mug.

You mocked fear “So someone broke into my room and moved me in my bed?”

Alastor stiffened a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “…Yes...”

“That’s freaky as hell.” You said, gripping your blankets “We need to tell Charlie or Vaggie that someone is sneaking into the guests’ rooms at night-“

“Oh goodness gracious, you know it was me.” Alastor huffed. You dropped the act, letting yourself have a good laugh.

“Yeah, I know.” You wiped a tear out of the corner of your eye. “Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Alastor hummed, turning his attention back to his book.

“…Why did you-“

“I believe I said think nothing of it.”

You stared at him. Replaying the events of the previous night, a horrifying realization dawned on you. “I’m sorry, Alastor.” His ears flicked in your direction, his eyes darting to stare at you. You fidgeted “You didn’t have to do this- I was just- Oh geez, okay I just mean I shouldn’t have bothered you to begin with you don’t have any obligation-“

“Since when do I do things on ‘obligation’?” He said, his grin straining “My dear, I only do things if I desire to. It was not for obligation, or guilt because I know that would be your next conclusion.” Alastor tapped one claw gently against you nose “It was simply because I felt like it.”

You focused on Keekee purring on your lap “….why?”

“Think nothing of it.”

A small smile found its way to your face. Think nothing of it…? You chuckled quietly “Oh, Alastor…”

“Yeeessssss?” He said, craning his head backwards towards you and twisting it 360 on his neck.

“AH! Don’t do that it’s creepy!”

“Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.” He responded, spinning his head again in the opposite direction.

You threw one of the pillows at him. Alastor cackled maniacally.

=============

BONUS:

After you ran off the night before….

Alastor: “NIFTY HOW DO YOU MAKE A PERSON LESS SAD.”

Nifty: “Soft things and a happy cat!”

Alastor: “Understood-“

Nifty: “Not Husk.”

Alastor: “…Keekee?”

Nifty: “Keekee.”

Alastor: “Got it. Tell no one about this conversation!”

Nifty: “Yessir!