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salthusiast · 3 days ago

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Who You Truly Are - Part 2

Viltrumite Mark x Female Reader

Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks. Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.

Word Count: 5k

Previous Part: 1

Warnings: Alludes to comic spoilers once if you SQUINT, and I mean SQUINT. It's literally "if you know you know" I tried to keep this as open to both show enjoyers and comic enjoyers as possible.

OH MY GOD THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT ON THE FIRST PART. I WAS NOT EXPECTING THAT. I tried to take any advice given to me. Thank you!!!

“I am not working with you again. I don’t care that there is another version of me out there causing issues.” Mark gestures wildly before rubbing his temples.

“You have all the superheroes you could ever need on call. You could defeat half of them without me. You don’t need me right now. I have to be there for Eve. If this other version of me is really that big of an issue, then just send every other superhero you have.” Mark walks past Cecil, leaving him alone in Eve’s room.

“Mark, please try to be reasonable.” Cecil follows him soon after.

Mark scoffs, “If I see him, I will take action.” He stops in his tracks. “This does not mean I’m working for you. I will take action if people are getting hurt. Do not expect me to be at your beck and call.” He turns, glaring at Cecil.

Cecil sighs, “If that’s the most you’ll do…”

“It is.” Mark cuts in sharply. “In case you have forgotten, I refuse to work with you. Now, I have other things to attend to.”

“At least let us know if you see him out in public, please, Mark. If not for me, then for the betterment of humanity.” Cecil tries.

“Oh yes, I’ll just shoot you a text! ‘Hey, Cecil, I know we hate each other, but there’s another version of me destroying the world right now.’” Mark exclaims sarcastically, holding his hands up as if questioning whether Cecil is serious. Cecil looks at him unimpressed.

“I don’t hate you, kid.” Cecil responds.

“Yeah, okay, but why even ask? I’m sure you’ll know if there’s an attack or something before I do. I wouldn’t even be surprised if you spy on me even when I’m not out saving people.” Mark looks at Cecil suspiciously.

Cecil sighs; he looks like he’s given up. “Just keep an eye out, kid. Please.”

“I will let you know if another version of me decides to attack me. Otherwise, call somebody else.” Mark reiterates, beginning to walk past Cecil.

“Wait,” Mark stops in his tracks. “You know we’re always here to talk, right?” Cecil looks at Mark, who returns a conflicted look.

“I don’t really want to talk to you,” He shakes his head, continuing his path, “but thanks.” Mark continues as he exits the Pentagon.

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

“Dude, where'd you get this coffee?” You ask, examining the foreign packing of the coffee beans Mark returned with. You take a sip from his cup, and he gives you a weird look.

“Brazil.” He answers.

You roll your eyes. “Very funny. No, seriously, you have to tell me. I gotta know your sources.”

He looks at you, “Can’t expose all my secrets.” He looks at you, amused.

“Okay fineeee, but you gotta promise to get me some more if we run out.” You relent, finishing his coffee.

“...That was my cup.” He sounds a little despondent.

“Sorry, we can make another batch.” You smile guiltily. He sighs, but goes to make more. You check the bag of groceries he brought. “Woah, this all looks authentic.” You examine the dry pasta that he bought.

“Did you travel to Italy too?” You joke, smiling at him.

“Yes.” He responds seriously. You laugh in response and stand up to wash the cup you stole from Mark.

“Oooh, next time you go, you should bring back pizza or something!” You grin at him, finding it funny how he seems so solemn with his responses.

“Hm, perhaps.” He says as he grabs two mugs.

“Oh, you don’t have to get a mug for me.” You say as he looks up at you, unimpressed.

“Really? So you won’t drink from my cup if I only make one for myself?” Mark narrows his eyes suspiciously.

You shake your head, “No, I won’t, Scout’s honor.” You place a hand on your chest.

Mark sighs before putting away the second mug. He pours himself a cup and takes a sip. He looks at you, then at his cup. “We should put away the groceries.”

You nod, “Of course.” You go to help him put the groceries away.

Mark stops in his tracks, “Are you serious?”

You look at him, then back at the cup you stole again. “Sorry, I wasn’t going to, but you commented on it, so I had to.” You take a slow sip, making it as loud as possible.

“You said ‘Scout’s honor.’ Do you have no honor?” He shakes his head in disappointment.

You snap your fingers, “That’s the thing! I was never a scout.” You put the cup down. “Don’t worry, I didn’t finish it this time.” You gesture vaguely to the cup.

He walks up to you, frowning. He looks at the cup, “You contaminated it.”

You laugh in surprise, “Oh, come on, you’ve drunk from my cups before. Think of this as payment for providing you with temporary housing.”

Mark furrows his eyebrows, “I have?” He hesitantly picks up the cup before drinking from it.

“Uh yeah? Wait, I think? Great, now you got me questioning it.” You sigh, heading over to the couch to turn on the TV. “Let’s see what’s on…”

The camera focuses on a massive floating figure. He seems to be towering over Invincible. They appear to be engaging in some sort of fight. The headline proves that your guess is correct.

“Hey, that looks like what the Chicago Destroyer Invincibile was wearing.” You comment offhandedly. Mark, on the other hand, coughs violently before walking over to watch with you.

“‘Chicago Destroyer Invincible?’” Mark quotes you incredulously.

“What? He destroyed Chicago, it’s either that or that one Invincible wearing white. That doesn’t really roll off the tongue— ooh, that was a nice punch.”

Mark still seems hung up on the “Chicago Destroyer” part. “From planet conqueror to Chicago Destroyer.” He scoffs, muttering the words low enough that you don’t hear.

“It looks like Invincible’s getting his ass handed to him though… Ouch, that looks like that’d hurt.” You comment, watching as the unknown attacker slams Invincible into the ground.

“Yeah…” Mark doesn’t sound very upset, “He’ll probably die here. That guy looks powerful.” You glare at Mark.

“You’re supposed to root for the good guy, Mark. Invincible is on our side.” You shake your head disapprovingly, placing a hand on your chest, feeling offended for Invincible.

He holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m just saying. I mean, look at him. Didn’t you also just say he’s getting his ‘ass handed to him?’” You both look at Invincible getting slammed on the ground and punched into the sky. You grimace as the fight goes out of frame… anddd probably out of that city.

“Okay, fine, but have some faith. Invincible is the one defending us. I mean, what’s gonna happen if this guy wins? Take over the Earth?”

“Yeah, probably,” Mark responds unfazed.

You chuckle at his deadpan response. “Damn, if we were conquered, what would happen to us? I can’t imagine we’re useful to people who can fly and have super strength like that. Maybe we'd be like slaves? I’d be such an awful slave.” Marks looks at you like you’re crazy.

”You wouldn’t be a slave.” Mark responds.

“Aww, thanks, I don’t think you’d be a slave either.” You respond affectionately.

“What? No, of course I wouldn’t— That’s not the point.” Mark shakes his head, looking back toward the TV.

You laugh at his response, placing your hand onto him, “Didn’t realize you feel so strongly about your ability to not be enslaved.” He stares at your hand, but he doesn’t flinch. He moves slightly away from your touch.

“Very funny.” He replies unamused. “He could, though. Enslave humanity.”

“Invincible? Nah, doubt it.” You play dumb, also knowing fully well that if he wanted, he probably could. Mark gives you a disappointed stare. “Fine, fine. If he truly wanted to, he could. I felt like that was pretty obvious. Not sure why you’re so serious about this.” You mumble.

“You could die out there,” Mark states, wow, okay. Somebody is feeling optimistic.

“Of course, I could die out there, Mark. Unless you’re secretly Invincible, then there’s nothing we can do if somebody like that invaded us.” You gesture to the TV, feeling yourself get frustrated by his negative outlook.

“Last I checked, Invincible is getting beaten up out there, so like it or not, we can’t change anything.” He gives you a conflicted look. “I’m going to go do some work. I’ll be at my desk.” You stand up, he looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t.

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

“Conquest was defeated.” Mark later walks into your room.

“Who?” You ask, still a little on edge. Normally, you wouldn’t care about Mark's comments here and there, but Mark had been making comments like this ever since he started staying with you. It was just so unlike him.

He pauses for a moment, and you turn your chair to him. “That guy who was beating up Invincible. He’s apparently called ‘Conquest,’” Mark elaborates. You nod in understanding.

You look over, and Mark is standing over at the door like a lost puppy. A tall and serious lost puppy. The image is so jarring you almost burst out laughing. You sigh, “I’m sorry.”

He blinks, “You apologize a lot.”

You remain silent, “Sorry..?” He looks vaguely amused.

You decide to change the subject, “I tried texting Eve. She is okay. William is fine, too.” Mark hums.

“Did you tell them I was here?” Mark asks. He makes his tone seem casual, but there is something hidden underneath the surface.

“Uhh, not yet, I literally just heard back from her… I’ll text them right now—“ You jolt as he grabs your hand, halting your movement. “Mark, what—“

“Don’t tell her anything. For a matter of fact, don’t tell William either.” He replies with a sense of urgency in his tone.

You frown, “Did you guys all argue or something? Even if they’re mad at you, I still think they’d want to know you’re safe.” You remove your hand from his grip, barely registering the loss of warmth in your confusion.

“Look… just please don’t tell them. They have enough on their plates as it is. They don’t need to find out my house is destroyed.” Mark tries, looking at you with eyes reflecting some emotion.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Of course…” You reply softly. “Mark, you have to talk to them eventually.”

He nods, “I will, but not today. Just… trust me on this.” He looks down at your hand. He looks up, “Don’t tell them.”

You look at his eyes, pleading. This is probably the most genuine emotion he’s shown (other than joy at destroying you in that game of Uno, but you don’t count that).

You sigh, “Fine…” The conflict in his eyes is suddenly gone; it’s back to that blank look. You both sit in silence, before he eventually stands up. You frown, “Where are you going?” You ask, watching as he heads towards the front door to leave.

“Out.” He turns to leave before pausing. “Do you… need anything while I’m gone?” He seems unsure whether he should ask the question.

You smile, “Oh yeah, just that Italian pizza I was asking for earlier. With your skills in finding hidden gems, I can’t imagine it’s too difficult.” You joke, leaning against your room’s doorway. He gives you a deadpan look before nodding and closing the door behind him.

You frown, “He could’ve at least said yes or no.” You close the door to your room behind you. You go back to work for the next few hours.

Eventually, you take a peek out of your room. Huh, still not here. Whatever he decided to do must be taking up quite a bit of time.

You are scrolling on your computer when you see a headline. It reads “NEW CAMERA SHY SUPER VILLAIN FIGHTS WITH GUARDIANS, ALL GUARDIANS SEVERELY INJURED.”

Normally, you wouldn’t spare a second glance, but it’s unusual that all the guardians get attacked. You open the article. The giant photo showing this new “super villain” is blurry. There are no defining features. All you can see is that they are wearing dark colors and are floating over the injured Guardians.

“New super villain is pictured decimating the Guardians. There seems to be no previous record of this figure. It appears as if he was after the Guardians specifically. Nobody knows names, but everybody is asking questions. Why did they do this?”

“Early witnesses describe seeing the fight originally between this mysterious individual and Atom Eve. It must have been a planned attack, as Atom Eve was recently out due to presumed injuries acquired during the Invincible War.”

“Whoever this is seems to have a vendetta against her. As of now, all the Guardians are safe and receiving medical attention. Perhaps the most odd thing about this is that this figure fled the fight. Why? We have no idea. However, we’re grateful nonetheless. Eyewitnesses seemed to see the figure flee soon after they started filming the fight up close. Perhaps the new villain is camera shy?” You snort reading that last line.

You look at the photos provided by various witnesses. All show the initial battle between the person fighting Atom Eve. All you can see is their back, you vaguely register that they look to be masculine, but it’s difficult to tell with the low quality and distance. Eventually, when they turn to face the camera’s direction, it just turns into a blur.

After scrolling through the photos, you read the rest of the article. The second half seems to detail the damage done to the Guardians. It’s crazy how much is occurring right now. First, those Invincibles, then Conquest, and now the Guardians?

“That’s wild…” You mutter, scrolling up and down through the article.

“What’s wild?” A voice says.

“OH MY GOSH! MARK?!” You press yourself to the back of your chair, jumping in surprise. “When’d you get back?! I didn’t even hear you open the front door?”

He doesn’t respond, instead, your eyes are drawn to the pizza box he holds up.

“Oh, you actually got pizza.” You smile, standing up and walking out to the kitchen. He trails behind you and places the box down.

“You doubted me?” He asks as you grab plates for you two.

“Nah.” You grab a slice. “Anyway, where’d you go?” You ask casually, sitting down.

“Out.” He responds, grabbing the plate and getting a slice.

“Ooh, how descriptive.” You chuckle, taking a bite of the pizza.

“How were you while I was gone?” He asks, changing the subject.

“Eh, bored. I was doing some work, but then I got caught up reading an article. Apparently, some guy went out and attacked the Guardians.” His head slowly turns toward you as you speak.

“Somebody attacked the guardians.” He said, looking at you, nodding in affirmation. “Did you see who it was?” He asks casually.

You shake your head, “No. People are saying he’s camera shy. Nobody could get a clean shot without him fleeing the scene.” You chuckle at the thought. Imagine being so powerful that you could take on the Guardians alone, but flee at the first sign of a phone.

“Camera shy.” He repeats, looking at you, and he looks slightly disturbed.

“Yep, at least that’s what the article said. Wouldn’t show his face anywhere. Must be new. Probably doesn’t want people to be able to trace his identity. Hey, it’s kinda funny how he popped up after Invincibile went MIA.”

“I doubt he’d want to fight Invincible. Probably creates too many issues.” He looks at the pizza slice, studying it.

“Where’d you get this pizza anyway? I think this is the best pizza I’ve ever had.” You continue, you turn your gaze to the blank pizza box. Not even a company name on there. You snap your attention back to him, “Don’t tell me you’re gonna keep it a secret too.”

He eats in silence, not making eye contact with you.

“Markkkk!” You groan. “Come on, it can't be that important to keep it a secret.” You frown, looking at him. He continues to eat in silence, ignoring your presence entirely. “We’re friends, right? Come on.”

He finally looks up, “Oh, friends? Hm, didn’t realize.” He says offhandedly. “Are you going to want more?” He asks, looking at the box.

“Changing the subject, I see.” You observe. “We can save it for later.” You finish up your slice.

“Don’t tell me you were actually getting pizza for two hours?” You ask as you start to clean the dishes.

His lips turn up to resemble a smile, “I wasn’t.”

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

“Are you sure it was him?” Cecil asks, standing across Eve’s hospital bed.

She narrows her eyes before standing up, “Yes, I’m sure. I think I’d recognize Mark when I see him.” She starts to walk to the door.

“Anything notable about him?” Cecil asks, following her to the doorway, she pauses.

“Aside from the fact that he single-handedly beat us in combat?” She asks, turning to face him.

“You barely had any time to recover after Conquest, and you were unprepared.” Cecil justifies, shaking his head.

“We didn’t get the chance to tell you that it wasn’t Mark out there. Don’t beat yourself up.” He places a hand on her shoulder.

Eve looks down, frowning, “He fought much differently than I had expected from Mark, even an alternate version.”

Cecil nods as if expecting that, “He fought like a Viltrumite, right?” She nods. “That’s expected.” He walks past her, gesturing to her to follow.

“Based on the information we gathered, the version that was left behind joined the Viltrum Empire. We highly suspect he was even raised on Viltrum.” Eve follows behind as he explains.

“While I hate to say it, he’s probably going to share more similarities with Nolan than he will with our Mark.” He pauses to look at Eve.

She looks down, conflicted, “But.. isn’t he a version of Mark? Can we maybe appeal to him in some way? I mean, they are the same person in a literal sense. Deep down, maybe he can be reasoned with.”

“I doubt it,” Cecil responds, and Eve looks up at him.

“Have you even tried?” She asks, slightly frustrated.

Cecil shakes his head, “No, and if you know what’s good for everyone, you won’t. He’s a Viltrumite. Our Mark is a different case, and if we’ve learned anything from Viltrumites from Viltrum…” He pauses before turning towards her.

“They see us as lower beings, pets. They cannot be appealed to. Our Mark is the special case. Don’t think that because they’re the same person, they have the same principles.”

She goes silent, “So, what do you want me to do if I encounter him?” She asks softly.

Cecil looks at her, determined, “Don’t hold back.”

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

You wake up the next morning feeling a tingle in your throat. No…

You are not getting sick. You refuse to. Maybe if you drink water..?

You take a sip, hoping the tingle will go away. It doesn’t. You try clearing your throat to see if it will go away. Damn.

Mark walks into your room, “Are you dying?” He asks, unconcerned.

“Maybe,” He suddenly looks up alarmed, “I think I’m getting sick.” You both look at each other.

He takes a step back, creating distance between you two. “Oh, come on. Seriously? You’ve been here for days, and you’ve been fine.”

“I don’t want whatever foreign illness you may have acquired.” He grimaces.

“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” You roll your eyes.

“I’m not. I just don’t like viruses.” He states.

“You never even get sick! I rarely see you get sick, if ever!” You exclaim.

“Yeah, cause I keep my distance.” He replies.

“It’s just a sore throat, Mark. It’s not like I have the plague.” You groan. “I’m going to make some tea.”

He watches you walk past him to the kitchen, following behind you. “How did you even get sick?” He asks.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Stress perhaps? I haven’t been around anybody but you recently. Unless you were recovering from being sick when you came over.” You theorize out loud. Mark watches as you grab a tea bag and mug.

“I doubt that. Why would you be stressed?” He asks, sitting down on one of the kitchen stools.

“Not sure. There was that attack all those Invincibles did and that whole Conquest thing.” You guess.

“You weren’t even near those attacks, though.” Mark frowns.

“Yeah, but you were near one of them.” You attempt to clear your throat.

“So you’re stressing over me?” He asks, seemingly confused over the concept.

You misinterpret his confusion, “Mark, you don’t stress me out. Life,” You gesture outside, “does. The possibility of death is a little bit stressful.”

He looks at you, conflicted. You can’t imagine why. “So you’re sick cause you’re stressed about my, what, well-being?” He asks.

You sigh, “Don’t think too hard, Mark.” You can see the gears turning in his head. For some reason, he can’t seem to fathom you caring like that. “I was just guessing anyway.”

“So you don’t even know why you’re sick?” He reiterates, seeming incapable of not understanding how you don’t know the exact cause of your illness.

“That’s kinda what a ‘guess’ means, yeah.” You nod amused.

“Are the hospitals here that bad?” He asks. You can’t tell if he’s actually asking you or not. It seems like he’s talking to himself.

“What?” You chuckle, confused, “I don’t think a cold requires a hospital trip.” He looks at you, seemingly conflicted.

“Okay…” He doesn’t seem to accept the answer, “Do you need anything?” He asks.

You smile, “Probably just some rest.” You clear your throat. “Ugh, I sound awful.” You shudder.

Mark watches you for a moment before leaving the room suddenly. You frown, “Damn, bye I guess.” You mutter to yourself.

You drink your tea for about a minute before he returns. He has a blanket in his arms.

You watch as he walks behind you, placing it on your back like a cloak. His hand lingers on your shoulder.

You feel moved by his kindness, so you don’t mention that you feel like you're burning alive. You accept the blanket. “Thanks.” You smile.

He looks at you, eyes softening for a brief moment before looking away. You wonder if you imagined it, seeing as there’s been nothing but a serious expression on his face these days.

“We can share the bed if you’d like. You don’t have to sleep on the couch. I can’t imagine it’ll be helpful for your recovery.” He avoids eye contact.

You chuckle amused before coughing, “Weren’t you the one who didn’t even want to be near me?” You can feel your face heating up. Damn, maybe you have a fever. You do feel like you’re melting.

He eventually looks at you, all softness (imagined or not) gone from his expression. “The offer stands.” He responds.

“What is this, a business transaction?” You start laughing, but launch yourself into a coughing fit. “Maybe I’ll take you up on your offer.” You say, not thinking anything of it.

Mark nods stoically, not saying anything else on the subject.

“Mark,” you feel reluctant to bring the topic up, “are you doing… okay?” You think back to his distance from Eve and William.

He pauses, unsure where this is going. “Yes, why?” He responds, his tone betraying nothing.

“It’s just… I thought you and Eve had a” you gesture at him, “thing… going on.” You take a sip of your tea.

Mark stared at you, “You thought we were courting?” He asks, seemingly appalled by the idea.

“Yeah, I mean you’re with her all the time. Then suddenly you’re here and refuse to speak with her.” You tap on your mug. “It’s not any of my business, I know, but I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.” You look up at him. He looks at you silently.

“I don’t care about Eve.” He eventually breaks the silence.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Mark…” You sigh, “You don’t have to tell me what happened if you don’t want to.” You take another sip.

“Just…” you pause, looking up at him. His eyes are dead set on you, his expression cold. “Remember, she’s also your friend. William too. Don’t push them away over something trivial.”

Mark says your name, “Nothing is going on between us. Don’t misunderstand,” you see his expression shift as he says that last part, “I really have nothing going on with Eve.”

You smile softly, not really believing him. You’ve seen them together. They lean into each other like nobody else exists. They share smiles with each other that nobody seems to understand. They seem to exist purely in each other’s existence.

“Okay.” You sigh, not really believing him. “Just, at least try to contact them. They’d want to know you’re safe.”

Mark nods, avoiding eye contact, “Alright.”

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

After you finish your tea, you go to watch TV on the couch. Nothing interesting is on the screen. You cough again, and you can feel Mark watching you.

You let the TV drone on for a while before you feel yourself drifting off. Suddenly, you hear a knock at the door. Mark’s attention snaps to the door. You sigh, getting up.

You go to the door, covered in the blanket Mark gave you. ”Eve?” You look at her, surprised. “What’re you doing here?” You sniffle.

“I came here to see how you’re doing.” She smiles, amused. She looks at the blanket on your back. “Sick?”

You nod miserably, “Yeah. Woke up this morning not feeling too good. Do you wanna come…” Something catches your attention to your left.

You can see Mark wildly gesturing an “X,” mouthing something along the lines of “DON’T LET HER IN!” You furrow your eyebrows, but he looks at you expectantly.

“... back later? I’m really not feeling too well.” You force another cough. It sounds real since you are actually sick.

She frowns sympathetically, “Of course. Get some rest. Let me know if you need anything. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay after everything that’s been going on. Haven’t really gotten a chance to check in.”

You nod, as you watch Mark shake his head disapprovingly to the side. “Of course. I’m glad to hear you’re okay. I trust William is fine, too?” You ask. She nods, smiling, “Yeah, both he and Mark are fine.” You nod before pausing.

“Wait, Mark contacted you?” You frown, confused. You see Mark move toward you, still out of view of Eve.

“Yeah..?” Eve frowns even more confused.

You look toward Mark, confused, and he gestures for you to close the door on Eve. “Oh, okay, well, thanks for checking in, Eve. I’m going to rest.” You gesture to your room. She nods.

“Of course, get better soon.” She smiles. You wave as she walks away before closing the door and turning to Mark.

“So…” You say slowly. Mark looks down, glaring at the floor as if it offended him. “You did contact her.”

You sigh, “Mark, I’m not mad or anything. I’m just concerned.” You frown. “Why did you lie about contacting her?” Mark looks up, seeing you looking at him, hurt.

“It’s nothing.” He brushes it off. You furrow your eyebrows. “Mark, if you’re here just to avoid Eve, then yes, it is something.”

”You think I’m here just to avoid her?” He asks incredulously.

You look away from him, “Let’s just drop the subject. I’m going to bed.” You start to go to your room to lie down. Mark watches you leave, and he looks hurt. You can’t imagine why.

As you enter your room, you close the door behind you. You are about to go to bed when you see Mark’s bag open. His stuff is scattered right next to it. You sigh, picking up some of his items and throwing them into the bag. You don’t want to step on it or trip over anything.

When you throw some of his stuff into the bag, you notice some bright piece of clothing stashed neatly in there. You were going to ignore it until you saw a bright red stain on it.

Your eyebrows furrow before you slowly move closer. You didn’t mean to snoop. It’s just that white is a very distinctive color, and a red stain like that doesn’t look normal. Perhaps you can offer to wash it for him?

Suddenly, he opens the door, medicine in hand, his eyes gravitate to you. He looks at his bag. “What are you doing?” He asks gravely.

“Your stuff was making a mess. I didn’t want to trip over it.” You say. He (not subtly) moves to cover your view of the bag, zipping it up.

“Get some rest.” He responds coldly. You feel yourself shrink under his cold demeanor. Is he mad at you because of the (unintentional) snooping, or because of the whole Eve situation? You don’t even know.

You do know one thing, however. Mark is hiding something. You don’t know how big, but it’s something he clearly does not want you to know.

Sure, it may not be any of your business, but you can’t help but feel like this is not something you should turn away from. You sit down on the bed, getting under the covers.

You look at the lone bag that Mark zipped up. He didn’t have to say anything, but the message was clear. “Don’t open this bag.” His eyes told you.

You flip over, facing the other direction. He has been acting so weird recently, distant. You kept telling yourself it was just shock from what happened, but does shock justify lies? You don’t know.

You look towards the medicine he left on the nightstand. You look at the extra blanket he grabbed for you. You snuggle closer to the blanket. Sure, he’s distant, but he’s still Mark. You turn again to the zipped-up bag.

Right?

Side note: I think this will probably be a 4-5 part series. While I will get that done, I also want to make other fics. I have this one idea for a no goggles mark fic that I'm in the middle of writing, so be on the lookout for that if you're interested. I'll probably post that one next. So yes, there will be a part 3. It just might be a bit of a longer wait than this one was though.

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#invincible #invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #viltrumite mark x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson x y/n #invincible x you

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rosierin · 2 days ago

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just a kiss (it wasn’t) | suna rintarou

synopsis; (y/n) and suna share the story of their first and only kiss. they don’t talk about it much but that doesn’t mean they’ve forgotten

warning; NSFW, mature content, explicit content‼️

this fic is part of the off-season quartet™ series! for more, click here :)

It was a rainy Saturday evening—which, in this household, meant one thing:

The perfect excuse for a movie night.

The pitter-patter of rain filled the living room, the sound rousing the sort of mood that made you want to burrow under a blanket and never crawl out. The scent of burnt popcorn (courtesy of Atsumu) still lingered in the air, barely masked by a candle someone had lit a few minutes earlier. On the TV, a romcom played, casting lights across a couch that had seen better days.

They were all tangled somewhere on and around it.

Suna was slouched in his armchair, one hand tucked behind his head, the other loosely holding the remote. The couch, meanwhile, was a mess of limbs. (Y/n) was wedged between the twins, blanket pulled over her legs, comfortable enough not to apologise when her thighs accidentally bumped one of theirs. It was cramped, a little too warm, but somehow still perfect in that lazy, lived-in way.

The movie was halfway through.

Some soft-hearted childhood-sweethearts plotline—filled with lots of longing glances, a slow dance in the kitchen, and a romantic first kiss on New Year’s Eve under fairy lights.

It was sweet and frankly a little bit sappy. But to (y/n), nostalgic in a way that made the room feel warmer than it was.

‘Course Atsumu had to go and ruin it.

“Okay but like,” he gestured towards the screen, “it’d be so weird kissin’ someone you’ve known since you were, like, six. Right? Isn’t that basically incest?”

(Y/n) sighed and pressed her eyes shut. “That’s… not how incest works.”

“No, but you get what I mean,” Atsumu rambled. (Y/n) didn’t grace him with a response. “You’ve watched ‘em eat glue and pick their nose yer whole life. How d’you go from that to makin’ out?”

Osamu made a thoughtful noise. “I mean, I get it. It’s weird if they feel like family.”

“Exactly!” Atsumu said. “Just feels wrong.”

Suna, who had diligently said nothing for the last fifteen minutes, shifted in his chair.

(Y/n) glanced at him, saw the barely perceptible twitch of his mouth, and cleared her throat.

And for whatever reason—maybe it was the sensual kissing scene playing on screen, maybe it was the quiet thrum of mischief in the air—she spoke without thinking.

“I’ve kissed Rin before.”

For a moment, nobody spoke. The rain drummed steadily against the windows.

She could practically hear the gears turning in the twins’ heads, the words ricocheting around their skulls before slotting into place.

Atsumu’s frown was pure instinct. “…Huh?"

Osamu turned his head, eyes widening a fraction. “You what? Seriously?”

Suna gave a lazy shrug. Then, with a quiet hum—like it wasn’t worth making a fuss over—he responded, “Yeah.”

“Wait. Hold on.” Osamu pointed between them, a grin tugging at his lips. “You two. Kissed. Like—on the mouth?”

(Y/n) raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “Is there another way?”

Atsumu’s eyebrows pulled together, not quite a glare, but close. “Wait—when?” His tone sounded as though he didn't know whether to be be confused, angry, or both.

She hesitated.

That was the thing. It had been years ago. Just once. A long, blurry night tucked behind them like a folded photograph they never took back out. But even now, her face grew warm.

“It was… a while ago. We were… eighteen, I think. Funnily enough it was on New Year's too." She pointed to the movie.

Atsumu turned toward her fully, one leg folded beneath him, the other dangling off the couch. His brows were drawn tight, mouth parted. “And yer just tellin’ us now?!”

(Y/n) offered a weak shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Oh, it was.

It definitely was.

But she wasn’t about to give the twins the full retelling.

The whole time, her attention was drawn to Suna—trying to get a read on him, even though he wasn’t giving her much to work with. Still, she had a feeling he was more invested than he let on.

“Was it, like... a dare?” Osamu asked.

Suna shook his head. “Nah.”

“So... a practice thing?”

He popped a kernel into his mouth. Smirked just a little. “Ask, (y/n).”

Bastard.

At once, both twins turned to look at her.

Atsumu was the image of impatience. Leaning in, eyes narrowed like he was half expecting her to admit she was joking.

Meanwhile Osamu, calmer but no less curious, raised one brow in silent question.

She shrank back against the couch cushions, suddenly hyper-aware of the space—or lack thereof—between them.

Two sets of expectant eyes on her.

Two completely different expressions.

One identical intensity.

She swallowed.

She could still remember it—the quiet pop of fireworks outside Suna’s window. The way his eyes looked that night, different somehow. Older.

The memory made her pause, words caught somewhere between embarrassment and pride.

She glanced at Suna and their eyes met.

He didn’t say anything outright, but his shoulder lifted slightly. A silent go on. And if she hadn’t known him for so long, she might’ve missed the faint flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. The quiet, smug little challenge that said:

Go on. Tell them. Let’s see what version you pick.

She cleared her throat and chose her words carefully, eyes darting between Atsumu and Osamu.

“So… we were alone. Remember? We’d gone to his parents' house over the holidays. You guys had gone back to Hyōgo to spend Christmas with your family.”

The twins nodded. Let her continue.

“Anyway, at first we were just talking...” Her fingers toyed with a loose thread in the blanket over her lap.

“Then he looked at me,” she went on, gaze drifting towards Suna. She paused, unsure how much he was willing to let her to share—if he wanted her to tell the rest.

He didn’t look her way. Just let the silence stretch, eyes fixed on the credits like none of this concerned him.

Right. Point taken.

“And he just… I don’t know—you know how guys have that specific look when you wanna kiss someone?”

Osamu snorted. Atsumu shook his head. "No?"

(Y/n) rolled her eyes. "Okay, well—you do. Anyway. He gave me that look and..."

“And?” Atsumu clicked his tongue. “Jesus woman, how long ya gonna keep edgin’ us for?”

Her fingers curled into the couch cushion as she shot him a weak glare. “Well… after that, he kissed me. So… I kissed him back.”

Her tone was even, but a flicker of a smile tugged at her lips—because no matter how nonchalant she tried to sound, the memory still lit something warm in her chest.

Osamu let out a low whistle.

Atsumu gawked—shocked, maybe a little relieved. “That’s it?”

She risked a glance at Suna.

It was faint, but she could tell he was biting back a grin. That quiet glint was there again. Something so typically Suna—aloof, amused, and just a little bit smug. Like he was remembering it too.

“She’s leaving out the good part."

(Y/n)’s heart jumped. “Rin—”

Suna either missed the flicker of panic on her face, or ignored it. He just sat up with a slow stretch, sweatshirt riding up to reveal a sliver of skin. A sound slipped from him—half sigh, half yawn.

“It wasn’t just a kiss,” he stated—flat, but a little too suggestive. Probably on purpose.

Osamu’s eyebrows shot up, eyes locked on Suna now. “You guys…?”

“No,” Suna said before anyone could finish the thought. “We didn't get that far."

That earned him a full double take from both twins.

“Go on," Atsumu demanded.

(Y/n) was at a loss for words. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the twins. It’s not like they’d go around repeating the story—why would they? But even so. Nobody knew about her past… lore with Suna. Not a soul.

And while she didn’t mind mentioning the kiss, the rest—well. The rest was, for lack of a better term, not safe for work.

Not safe for her dignity, either.

That night had been a lot of things.

Spontaneous, yes. Heated. But also more complicated than she'd ever admit out loud.

She’d known the twins for years—ever since they were teenagers. And yet, she’d never told them about her crush on her best friend. Never told them about one of the most pivotal nights of her love life.

And perhaps tonight wasn't the night for that.

Instead, she shook her head, cheeks burning as the memories began rushing in. “I dunno what to say! We were just… stupid and curious and just being your typical horny teenagers, that’s all.”

That earned a quiet snort from Osamu, who looked more amused than surprised at this new piece of backstory.

Atsumu, on the other hand, didn’t laugh. He just stared, like he was trying to figure out what to say but didn’t quite know how to frame it. His lips parted, then pressed shut again.

As for Suna... He simply kept quiet. Knowing him, he was probably just as torn about sharing the details. If anyone valued their privacy, it was Suna.

And (y/n)—despite herself—felt her gaze drop to her hands in her lap, fingers twisting in the sleeves of her hoodie Her skin prickled—not quite from embarrassment, but from the heat of the memory... and the leftover tension hanging in the air.

Mercifully, neither twin pressed any further. Even Atsumu, surprisingly.

(Y/n) exhaled a little breath as Osamu pulled his brother and Suna into a brainstorm about which movie to watch next.

Hopefully not another romance.

She wasn't sure if he'd done it out of sympathy, or if it just happened to be good timing. Either way, she was grateful for the distraction.

They never brought it up again.

But that didn’t mean her mind didn't.

Every now and then, she’d glance over at Suna. He looked relaxed—detached, even—but she couldn’t help but wonder if his mind was buzzing too. If his hands had gotten clammy. If his heart had even skipped a beat.

She was too caught up in her thoughts to notice him pull out his phone.

Her phone buzzed seconds later.

Blinking herself out of the haze, she looked down at her screen and gawked.

From: Rin tell your brain to be quiet can hear it from here

She ignored his message.

And glared at him instead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It was right after graduation. In winter, on New Year’s Eve.

A night with no romance, no candles, no feelings—just the quiet kind of chaos that only happens when trust, timing, and tension mix in the worst possible way.

They’d known each other since they were nine.

Back then, it was simple. He was the quiet kid who liked video games and hated group work. She was the chatty one who always finished her lunch first and dragged him out of the house. They just… clicked. Simple as that. A friendship built on years of inside jokes, late-night calls, and knowing each other like the backs of their hand.

It wasn’t until middle school that her feelings began to change.

Not overnight. Far from it. But somewhere between study calls and the first time he pulled off his hoodie in front of her, something settled in her chest. It crept up on her like a slow burn. A feeling you don’t notice until it’s already been there a while and planted its roots.

She started caring more. Laughing harder at his jokes. Noticing when his replies came slower, when his voice sounded a bit more tired than usual. Being around him just felt... better than being around anyone else. There was comfort. Trust. And the type of closeness that made her heart ache for all the right reasons.

Love, probably. But the shy, unspoken kind. The kind you don’t confess because you're afraid it might ruin everything.

And then, of course, they both had a glow-up—that was just the truth. He got taller. His voice dropped. His jaw sharpened. And she noticed.

The same way he noticed her legs that summer she started wearing shorts more often. The same way his eyes lingered a little too long when she bent over to grab something. The way his teasing lost a bit of its brotherly edge and got a bit more... biting.

She wasn’t stupid. He found her attractive. She knew that.

But she also knew that’s where it stopped. It was purely surface-level. Because Suna wasn’t the type to fall easily. And if he ever saw her as anything more, it never lasted long enough to mean something.

Not like hers had.

She’d been in love with him for years. Secretly. Hopelessly. Love you don’t act on because it’s easier to carry in silence than risk putting it down and never getting it back.

So no—

They weren’t a thing. They weren’t anything.

Except... aware.

Almost as if something sat between them, constantly humming just beneath the surface. A quiet almost that only one of them seemed to feel.

Until that particular New Year’s night, when the hum turned into something louder.

His house was quiet. His parents and little sister were off celebrating with friends, and he’d bailed last minute with the most Suna excuse ever:

“Too many people. Too much noise. Don’t feel like pretending to care about countdowns.”

(Y/n) had agreed without thinking. Like always. By now, saying yes to him felt like second nature, so when he suggested she stay the night, it didn’t even feel like a choice.

Now they were in his room—lights off, movie playing in the background, the faint sound of fireworks crackling somewhere in the distance. Her legs were curled up on his bed, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands. Suna sat beside her, phone face-down, arm draped loosely across the back of the mattress.

They weren’t saying much. Just watching. Existing.

Until the scene changed.

And—what the fuck?

Where the hell did this come from?

Out of nowhere, the couple on screen were now tangled up on a couch—shirts half-off, lips clashing. Moans slipped out between kisses, fingers clawing at fabric like they couldn’t get close enough.

The scene wasn't explicit by any means, but showed enough to make (y/n) cringe. Flushed skin. Bare thighs. The unmistakable rhythm of two people getting lost in each other.

Her spine straightened on instinct.

She cleared her throat and looked away, shifting in her seat under the guise of getting comfortable.

She could feel Suna's eyes on her.

“Do scenes like this make you uncomfortable?” he asked, voice laced with amusement.

She stiffened. “No. I mean—maybe a bit.”

He hummed, glancing sideways. Her eyes flicked between the couple on screen and Suna, trying very hard not to combust at the explicit sounds that now filled his moderate sized bedroom.

“…Do they not make you uncomfortable?” she countered.

He shrugged, gaze slipping back to the TV with that usual calm. “Nah. Not really.”

Typical.

She narrowed her eyes. "What does make you uncomfortable, then?"

His response came far too fast. “Kita.”

She fought back a grin. “Seriously?”

“Correct." He gave a curt nod. “Kita Shinsuke freaks me out.”

Out of all the things. His stoic volleyball captain from high school is what got him?

She snorted, shaking her head a little. “How come? I think he’s nice!”

Suna’s face stayed neutral, but she could've sworn she saw him shudder.

“Try having him breathe down your neck for a day,” he mumbled. “That guy’s terrifying.”

“Kita’s not scary,” she argued. “He only picked on you ’cause he knew you were a major slacker.”

His lip twitched. “Only one who got scouted to Inarizaki though.”

(Y/n) nodded, conceding with a half-smile. “That you were.”

Thankfully, by the time she turned her attention back to the TV, the sex scene had ended.

Thank God.

Unfortunately, it was only then that she noticed how close they were sitting. She blamed the way she’d shifted earlier, trying to act normal. That was on her. And maybe it was the scene that had just played out on screen, but now the space between them felt… tight.

Suddenly, the movie wasn’t the only thing messing with her focus.

She looked over at him once. Then again.

Their thighs brushed every now and then. Not fully touching, but enough for the heat of him to bleed into her side. Every shift he made—the way his hoodie rustled, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing—felt loud in her ears.

She tried to focus on the movie. Really, she did.

But her eyes kept drifting.

Just for a second. Then another.

He looked good. Effortless like always with his hoodie half-pulled over his messy hair, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, eyes half-lidded like he could fall asleep any second.

But he wore his tired well. Even the faint shadows beneath his eyes didn’t make him look worn—they made him look soft. Still strangely handsome.

Her gaze slipped to his jaw. Then the sliver of collarbone visible beneath his hoodie, the way the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders.

Then lower—to where his hands rested in his lap, fingers loose and half-curled, adorned with a silver ring on each pointer finger. She didn’t remember when he started wearing them.

Her throat tightened slightly. They suited him. She’d always thought his hands were pretty. Usually, it was just a fleeting thought. A simple observation.

But tonight—tonight, she found herself wondering what those hands could do. What they’d feel like against her skin.

Her cheeks flushed. She looked away. Cleared her throat.

Get a grip, (y/n).

It wasn’t a big deal. It shouldn’t have been a big deal. She was over him. Had been, for a while now. This was the movie's fault. Or maybe some leftover curiosity—that’s all.

“Hm?”

Suna's voice drifted over, pulling her from her daze.

She straightened a bit too fast, hating how guilty she sounded when she replied, “What?”

There was a twitch at the corner of his mouth when he glanced over. “Were you checking me out?”

Her response was like a bad reflex. “No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I was just—” Her eyes dropped to his lap, and she could've cursed at the mindless action.

Why'd I do that?

He's probably gonna think I was looking at—

She caught the way his brows lifted as she looked back up, his smirk broadening into something almost boyish.

Of course.

"Your hands,” she clarified, louder than intended.

“My hands?” He echoed, almost innocently. But something in his voice sounded suspiciously pleased.

She could’ve brushed it off. Could’ve left it at that. But her mouth had already run ahead of her.

"Mhmm. I was just thinking how nice they are."

If her words weren't enough to make her cringe, then Suna's reaction was. He didn't bother hiding his amusement this time, not as he slowly lifted a hand in front of him and flexed his fingers a few times.

She hated how her gaze lingered on the movement, on the glint of silver on his fingers, the subtle shift of muscle beneath skin, pronounced with each curl.

Lazy, controlled—like he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Thanks," he drawled.

She swallowed.

God.

Her mind went somewhere it absolutely should not have gone.

Her thighs squeezed together under the blanket.

He dropped his hands back into his lap without a word and looked at her.

She daren't meet his gaze.

She shouldn’t be having these thoughts. Not about him. Not now. They’d sat like this before—shoulder to shoulder, legs touching, even sharing a bed more times she can count. But it had never felt like this. Never made her pulse quicken or her mind wander the way it was tonight.

So why now?

Maybe it was the quiet. The late hour. Maybe even the stupid movie.

Or maybe it was the fact that it was just the two of them—alone in his room with nowhere to be, nothing to do, and too much unsaid sitting between them.

Because something about being here with him like this always brought old feelings to the surface.

“Do you think we’ll be different this year?”

The words slipped out before she could stop them—quiet, barely a whisper.

Suna’s eyes flicked to her face. “You mean like… emotionally evolved?”

She tried not to fidget too much and nodded once, lips pressed together, already regretting her question.

But Suna didn't make her feel guilty. Didn't tease. Didn't overreact. Just held her gaze and asked, “Did you want it to be different?”

The question made her stomach twist, eyes drifting to the way her hands fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie. She could feel it, that pulse of awareness between them. The one that made the hairs on her arms prick up. The one she used to feel and thought she’d finally outgrown—until now.

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “Probably not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. But it certainly wasn't the kind she was used to.

She swallowed the lump in her throat as Suna turned to her fully. The slight shift in position was negligible, probably nothing but a few centimetres. But she felt it enough to make her heart stutter.

It took her a great amount of effort not to shrink beneath his gaze.

Suna and his damn eye contact.

"Something's on your mind."

It wasn't a question. More like an observation that landed straight in her gut.

Her breathing shallowed. "How can you tell...?"

“You’re acting weird tonight,” he murmured. Not an insult, but something almost like curiosity.

“So are you,” she shot back, voice mirroring his hushed tone.

A ghost of a smirk. “Yeah?”

“You’re sitting closer than usual.”

“Am I?”

“You’re looking at me different.”

Indeed. He didn’t deny it.

His eyes were half-lidded. Hazy. Fixed on her like he was seeing something he hadn’t let himself look at before.

She recognized that look.

She’d seen it in other guys before—guys at parties, in passing glances, in moments that felt fleeting and charged.

But never from him. Not Suna.

And now that it was him—looking at her like that—her stomach twisted with something half-forgotten. Old and perhaps unfinished.

Something she thought had burned out long ago.

Her voice came out smaller than she intended, tight in her throat. "...What’re you doing?"

He didn’t answer right away, but the dip in atmosphere was palpable.

“Tell me to stop.”

Her heart lurched—at the words, at the tone. Silken, but brazen. Familiar, but suddenly foreign.

The feeling in her chest felt like reopening a book she’d shelved a long time ago.

A chapter she never thought she’d revisit.

She didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just sat there, heart hammering as he leaned in—close enough for her to catch the scent of his cologne. For her eyes to flick to his mouth—once, then back up.

"...What?"

Usually she'd deflect. Change the subject. Look away. But she couldn't this time. Or rather... she wouldn't.

“I said,” he murmured, gaze dropping to her lips, “tell me to stop.”

Her mouth parted, but no words came out.

Not as he tilted his head, lips brushing hers in the faintest whisper of contact.

Not when his nose bumped hers and her breath hitched.

She barely had time to register what was happening.

Next thing she knew—

He was kissing her.

No rush. No pressure. Just the feeling of his mouth on hers, tentative and warm, slow enough to give her time to pull away, soft enough to make her brain fog.

And in her head, all the years came rushing in.

The laughter. The teasing. How she used to look for him in every room like it was second nature. The late-night calls. The company that had always felt like safety.

She thought she was past this. She really did.

But now, with Suna kissing her like that—like she was something precious and just barely his—she wasn’t so sure.

His mouth moved against hers with a kind of lazy confidence, lips parting just enough to make her dizzy. Her body tensed beneath the softness, thighs pressing together, fingers twitching where they rested in her lap, aching to reach for something. Him.

And just when she thought she might actually lose her balance, he pulled away. Not far. Just enough to look at her.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. Just stared. Eyes locked on hers like he was watching her process the moment in real time—studying every twitch, every breath. Waiting to see if she’d move first.

But (y/n) was in a daze, her lips still parted. Eyes bleary and blinking as if she was seeing a different reality entirely.

She had kissed Suna.

Suna.

Her best friend Suna.

The one she had pining over for years.

And better yet—he had made the first move.

"Earth to (y/n)..."

His voice reeled her back in. Soft and teasing.

"I..."

Suna’s brows lifted just slightly as she searched for words.

He didn't press. Didn't joke. But there was something playful in his gaze, and maybe just a little bit restrained. Like he was holding back on purpose. Not just out of respect, but to test her. To see what she’d do next.

A quiet dare.

Her nerves flared. She tried to fight it—tried to keep still. Tried to fight the urge to do something truly and utterly reckless. But failed.

Because for a moment, her nerves didn’t matter.

The second-guessing, the what-ifs—gone.

Fuck it.

She reached for him, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie—and crashed her lips onto his.

Harder this time. No hesitation.

He groaned low in his throat—surprised for half a second before melting into it, as if that was all the permission he needed.

His hand came up fast, fingers sliding along her cheek, then down to the hinge of her jaw, guiding her into him with an impatience that felt so unlike him.

(Y/n)'s body lit up at the contact—something involuntary slipping past her lips, a soft, needy sound she didn’t mean to make.

Suna was on her in an instant, tongue slipping past her lips without hesitation—slow, coaxing, claiming, like he’d been waiting for this exact moment to break her open.

A shiver rolled down her spine.

She fisted the front of his hoodie, tugging him closer, anchoring herself to him. The kiss felt good. Intoxicatingly good—like finally getting something you stopped wishing for.

She wasn’t sure what it meant. But right now, she didn’t want it to stop.

His hand moved almost carefully, brushing her jaw, then dropping down to her thigh. Warm. Grounding. Asking without asking.

Her body responded before her mind could make sense of it all.

Buzzing. Yearning. A little afraid.

She broke the kiss for half a second, lips brushing his as she whispered, “Rin”—barely more than a plea.

“Still with me?” he asked smoothly.

She nodded.

He leaned in again. This time his mouth found her neck.

Her breath caught.

Then his hand slipped under the hem of her hoodie, fingers dragging along her waist, slow and tailored to make her shiver.

She let out a shaky breath. “This is insane.”

“Yeah,” he rasped. Then, with a tinge of humour, “Don't worry, I locked the door.”

She almost laughed, but then his hand slipped higher beneath her shirt, and all she could do was gasp.

His fingers traced her ribs. His mouth brushed the spot just beneath her ear, where her pulse fluttered.

She was trembling, and yet he didn't stop.

But he did pause. Looked up at her again. “Still okay?”

She nodded.

She didn’t know what started it—maybe the silence. Maybe the look in his eyes when he was about to kiss her. Maybe the way she didn’t stop him when he leaned in.

Whatever the reason, she didn't have it in her to pull away. And clearly, neither did he.

Not when his mouth claimed hers again—slow, heated, open.

Not when his hand slid up the back of her hoodie and skimmed her bare spine as though he’d been holding himself back.

Not when he pulled her onto his lap, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs, bodies flushed, hearts thudding in sync.

The kiss deepened. Got messy. Hot. A mixture of pants and breathy sighs.

They barely parted for air before their mouths collided again, each kiss more desperate than the next, breaking only when their lungs forced them to.

Every kiss said, Don’t stop. Every inhale said, More.

Her hands slid into his hair, threading through the soft strands at his nape—pulling, guiding. He groaned softly into her mouth as his tongue brushed hers, slow and filthy. And when she let out a soft, helpless sound against his mouth, he gripped her tighter.

She felt it then—him—hard beneath her, pressing up where she was aching, and her body reacted in the most hopelessly honest way.

She rocked against him once.

He sucked in a breath.

The reaction must've snapped something in him, because in a blink, he was kissing down the column of her throat—eager hands roaming her flushed curves. His mouth working its way along her skin, teasing, but never quite giving her what she wanted.

He pulled her hoodie up in one fluid motion, breaking the kiss just long enough to yank it over her head. Her top followed, peeled away with the same quiet urgency, until she was left in nothing but her bra.

His gaze dipped once and everything soft about him disappeared.

She barely noticed the cold.

She noticed his mouth.

On her collarbones. On her chest. Open, warm, teeth dragging lightly just to make her gasp. She tilted her head back, lips parting around a little sigh, hips unconsciously rolling into his lap again and again like her body was trying to chase something it didn’t fully understand.

His hands found her hips, head hitting the headboard with a quiet thud.

Suna made a noise, low and hoarse—like the air had been knocked out of his lungs. His jaw went slightly slack. His hands tightened.

“Do that again.”

The authority in his voice was mind-numbing. She could’ve sworn goosebumps rose along her arms at the command alone.

Her cheeks flushed, heat prickling across her skin. But her hips moved again, experimentally and obediently. The drag of her clothed core against him made them both stutter a breath.

Something curled in her chest. Not quite pride. Not quite shock. Just a quiet thrill—sparked by the way he looked at her, like she’d just undone something in him.

His eyes were half-lidded, dark and heavy. Every shift of her hips made his lips part a little more. His breathing became ragged, jaw tightening when her movements grew bolder. His fingers dug into the dip of her waist like he was trying to keep her steady, or to keep his own hips from bucking up.

She ground down again—this time with more pressure.

His head fell back. “God, (y/n)—”

She kept going.

Grinding in slow, shallow rolls. The heat between her legs was blinding, the friction building in waves. She could feel the outline of him beneath her, hard and twitching through thin layers of clothes. His hoodie had ridden up his abdomen, her thighs trembling against his joggers.

Yet, Suna—despite the state he was in—was somehow still completely focused on her, like he physically needed to watch her fall apart in his lap.

His hands slid up under her bare stomach, raking over her waist, ribs, then cupping her clothed breasts. His thumbs brushed over her nipples and she gasped, hips jerking at the sudden contact.

“You like this,” he muttered darkly, “You’re getting off on the thought of riding me."

She bit her lip, but couldn't bring herself to deny it.

For a moment, she wondered what that non-verbal confession had done to him. If she’d imagined the glint in his eye. The way his muscles tensed beneath her.

She got her answer soon enough.

With one rough, fluid shift, he flipped them—her back hitting the mattress with a soft thump. Suna hovered over her, one knee pressing between her thighs, caging her in.

She looked up at him with wide, glazed eyes as he bent low, hooked a finger under her shorts, and gave them a slight tug.

“Next time we do that,” he murmured, “I’m taking these off.”

She didn’t answer—just whined as heat coiled tight in her abdomen.

His hand slid between them.

Inside her shorts.

Then inside her underwear.

Her whole body seized up.

His fingers found her—hot, slick, already aching—and he hissed like the feel of her actually hurt him.

“Shit,” he muttered, jaw flexing as his eyes dropped. “Already?”

He looked up again, lips curling slow. Confident and just a little bit smug. “I barely even touched you.”

Disbelief flickered across her flushed face, her eyebrows pinching above her lidded eyes. “You’re joking, right?” she whispered, a little breathless.

Suna just smirked.

His fingers moved again—confident, unfairly skilled, trailing through her slowly without slipping inside. Testing. Mapping her with long, maddening strokes.

She could feel the way her body clenched around nothing, the unmistakable warmth pooling between her thighs. Every nerve ending lit up, impossible to hide.

Her face burned.

He didn’t rush.

It was almost cruel, how calm he was. He didn’t need to ask what felt good. He could read it in her breath, every soft gasp that slipped from her lips, every poorly concealed moan as he deliberately avoided the places that would’ve undone her too quickly.

She pressed her forehead to his shoulder, his name slipping past her lips in a quiet whimper.

He worked her open with soft, torturous rhythm. One finger, then two. The stretch wasn’t new, but it still made her gasp—tight, full, a pulse-deep pressure that had her legs falling open wider, heels digging into the sheets.

His fingers curled deep, knuckles pressing just right against that tender spot inside her, and then he started moving—slow, sinful, obscenely precise—each thrust dragging just enough to make her clench around him, like her body couldn’t bear the emptiness he kept leaving behind.

Her head fell back. A broken sound slipped past her lips.

“Please,” she whimpered. “Don't stop—”

She didn’t care how her voice sounded—needier and more desperate than she’d ever heard, her fingers clutching at Suna’s arm. Her best friend's arm.

Her hips pressed into him, seeking that pressure, riding the curl of his fingers like her body couldn’t help it. Her movements weren’t shy or composed anymore. She was writhing, desperate for more—chasing every thrust of his hand with a helpless pace.

Suna watched her like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

His mouth was slightly open. Eyes cloudy, fixed to the point where their bodies met.

“Look at you," he breathed.

She barely heard his voice.

She just kept moving, breath hitching every time his thumb caught the right spot. The pressure inside her was building too fast, overwhelming, but she didn't stop. Couldn't.

“Usually so sweet,” he crooned. “So polite. So proper.”

His smirk was lazy, laced with awe. “And now you’re fucking yourself on my fingers."

A shaky, flustered sound escaped her throat. “Rin—please—”

“Didn’t know you could be this filthy,” he teased, lips brushing her temple. “You were holding out on me.”

She whined, hips stuttering for a second—mostly from pleasure, partly from shame.

“Bet you touch yourself thinking about this,” he muttered. “About me doing this to you. Making a mess of you."

She bit her lip, eyes squeezing shut. Her body was moving on instinct now—hips rolling into his hand like she didn’t care how it looked, how desperate it felt. And maybe she should’ve cared. Maybe she should’ve been mortified by how easily she came apart for him. But right now, with his fingers buried inside her, and that voice in her ear—

She couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“Oh, fuck, you do,” he groaned. “That’s why you’re squeezing me like that.”

She was close. So close. Her body burned, curling toward his hand, her movements frantic now, messy—rocking hard against him like she couldn’t hold out any longer.

Her stomach tensed. Her entire body locked up.

“I’m—Rin—”

“I know,” he murmured. “That's it—just like that."

One more stroke. One more definitive grind of his palm against her and the tension inside her belly snapped.

Her whole body arched into him. Her hands clutched his shoulders, lips parting in a silent cry as she came on his fingers—thighs trembling, chest heaving, whimpers spilling out between broken sobs of his name.

Suna didn't ease up yet, working her through it, his fingers slowing just enough to guide her through the last wave of it.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he muttered, watching as she fell apart. “Good fucking girl."

She twitched, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps as he finally relented. He eased his fingers out, gliding them slowly through the mess between her thighs.

(Y/n) was limp against the sheets—dazed, flushed, and thoroughly exhausted.

And yet, amid the wreckage of her orgasm, one stupid thought surfaced like a stray balloon floating into the mess of her mind.

Has Rin always had such a potty mouth?

Something must’ve shown on her face—maybe the pinch of her brows, the slight narrowing of her eyes, or the way her lips parted in quiet confusion—because Suna glanced down at her with a bemused expression.

“You okay?”

He had the audacity to look as casual as ever, hovering over her with one arm braced beside her head. She tried not to shudder as his other hand slowly traced the length of her bare thigh, and instead met his gaze with an almost sceptical stare.

“…Since when are you so chatty?”

He stared. And then, to her delight—he actually laughed.

It wasn’t his usual dry, sarcastic snort either. No—this was one of his rare laughs. Breathy, warm and genuine. The sound made her chest feel funny. The sight even more so: the slight crinkle of his nose, the way his sharp eyes softened like the moment meant something.

“That’s what’s on your mind right now?” he asked, half laughing as he said it.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes but her cheeks flushed anyway, one hand coming up to brush her hair back from her face.

“Well—yeah,” she huffed. “It was just—you know, a lot.”

His smirk lingered, followed with a slight tilt of his chin, brows raised in quiet expectation. If he was waiting for her to elaborate on that statement, he was sorely mistaken.

She groaned and covered her face with her arm. “Don’t make me say it," she grumbled. "You clearly had a lot to say. You never talk that much, even during volleyball.”

He chuckled, quiet but no less smug. “Guess we’re both full of surprises tonight.”

That line landed like a spark on open flame.

She dropped her arm just in time to catch the pointed look he gave her. Like he hadn’t forgotten the way she’d been squirming under him moments ago, how she’d clutched at the sheets and rolled her hips into his hand like a woman possessed.

Her face burned as she averted her gaze.

“Don't,” she warned weakly.

“C'mon, I thought we were past the shy part.”

She kicked weakly at his thigh, but her heart was thudding all over again. That look in his eyes—it wasn’t gone. If anything, it had simmered. Softer, but no less heated. Like he was watching her come back down just to see if he could wind her up again.

And then he just… looked at her.

Not in the lustful, primal way from earlier. This was quieter. His gaze flicked over her face in that typical, unreadable Suna fashion.

She shifted beneath it, suddenly aware of her appearance—her smudged makeup, her flushed skin, the way her hair was probably a mess against the pillow. Something about the way he stared made her feel more exposed than before.

She wondered what was going on in that indecipherable mind of his. What he was seeing. The flaws. The cracks. All the little imperfections she’d spent years picking at in the mirror.

Then his hand lifted, thumb brushing her cheekbone with a tenderness that sent butterflies loose in her stomach.

“Pretty girl,” he murmured.

That was it. Just two words. And yet they hit her square in the chest. Her breath caught, the corners of her eyes prickling with the irrational urge to cry.

His gaze lingered on her, searching or admiring.

“You look surprised,” he mused softly.

She blinked at him, stunned. For a second, it felt like they were fifteen again—a time when her words jumbled and her mind raced. A time when everything felt awkward, flustered, and a little too much like love.

“You’ve never called me that before,” she whispered.

His thumb kept moving in slow, reverent strokes across her cheek. “Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought it,” he said. “You’ve always been beautiful."

Something swelled in her chest, something old and warm. And when he traced his hand lower to run his thumb over her bottom lip—slowly, like he wanted to memorize it, brand it into memory—her heart cracked a little.

Still, her mouth parted for him.

And he stared, stared at the way she wrapped her lips around the pad of his thumb, at what she was allowing him to do. She caught the subtle clench of his jaw, the flicker in his eyes—the exact moment his restraint gave out.

His kiss wasn't soft.

His body pressed flush to hers, and she could feel him now, fully. Hard. Hot. Nestled right where she was still sensitive.

His hips ground against her, slow and firm, swallowing the tiny gasp she let out. She arched up, and he groaned low. His breath was hot against her ear when he spoke.

“You gonna take me for real this time?”

He shifted again, one hand gripping her thigh, spreading her legs just enough. He slotted between them, the thick heat of him pressing right against her core, only the thin layers of her shorts and his sweats between them.

He rocked once. Harder.

A moan slipped past her lips, more drawn-out than the rest.

“Yeah?” he crooned, almost breathless. His hips rolled again, the length of him dragging slow and heavy right against her clothed core. She felt how hard he was. How ready. How badly he wanted in. "You want it? Just say the word."

“Okay,” she whispered. Her hands were already in his hair. Her hips lifted.

He reached down, hooking his fingers into her shorts and underwear in one motion. She lifted her hips without needing to be asked, then raised her legs so he could pull them all the way off.

Then she felt him.

Skin to skin.

Hot, flushed, heavy against her entrance.

He didn’t push in—yet. Just lined himself up. Let her feel it. Bare and hot and right there, rubbing slowly against her—back and forth, teasing, testing her breath.

The pressure. The stretch. The way it would be.

And it hit her.

Each inhale came shakier than the last. Her body tensed, but not like it had before.

She wanted to want it. God, she really did.

But something cracked inside her chest. Like a wave of uncertainty slamming into a brick wall.

Her mind felt loud all of a sudden.

This wasn’t just a hook-up. Not with him. It couldn’t be.

Not after everything.

Not when her feelings had just barely begun to quiet down.

Not when she still didn’t know what this meant. Or what it didn’t.

Her body buzzed, but her heart tripped over itself. And it was like her mind finally caught up to what was happening.

This is Suna.

Her best friend.

The boy she’d loved.

The boy she was supposed to be over.

And she wasn’t ready for what would come after this.

The weight. The shift. The maybe.

Her breath hitched. Her fingers stilled in his hair.

He noticed instantly.

He didn’t push in. Just stayed right there, wary, his breath stalling as he searched her face.

“(Y/n)?” he asked, voice softer now. Cautious.

He hovered. Silent. His fingers flexed where they were gripping her thigh, like he was holding himself back from giving in completely.

She could feel him twitch against her. Feel how close they were to crossing that line.

She bit her lip, and the world narrowed to nothing but heat and heartbeat.

She couldn’t do this. Not like this.

“I…”

She stared up at him—at the flushed cheeks, the blown pupils, the lips that had been all over her skin. At her best friend. She felt the pressure of him, still right there. Felt the heat in her cheeks, the racing of her heart, the way her thighs clenched tight without meaning to.

“I can’t,” she rasped, throat tight.

He nodded. Instantly. Pulled his hips back. “Okay.”

“I want to, but—I just…”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, face burning.

“Don’t be.”

“I thought I could but—”

“Hey.” His voice was soft now. Calming. “It's okay. I get it.”

She looked at him. Really looked.

And what hit her hardest wasn’t disappointment or frustration—it was the absence of it. He wasn’t angry. Didn't look bitter or impatient. He just remained still, like he was giving her space to breathe, letting the moment settle without putting more weight on it.

Maybe that’s what made the guilt feel worse.

Her skin still tingled from the way he touched her. Her body was still wound tight from the high he gave her, and he hadn’t gotten anything in return. He’d given her so much—his hands, his patience, his restraint—and she’d unraveled completely under him, only to stop short. She felt raw. Vulnerable. Embarrassed. And above all, selfish.

He kissed her forehead, slow and lingering, and pulled the covers over her exposed body.

The act was so gentle it nearly broke her.

“Thanks for stopping,” she murmured, barely a whisper.

“Hey,” he started. But his voice, although mostly gentle, was laced with something serious. “Don’t ever thank anyone for that. Promise?"

Her throat tightened. She forced a nod.

He laid back beside her, one arm slipping beneath her shoulders, tugging her gently into the space beside him. No questions. No pressure. Just his steady presence.

She didn’t know what she expected—to cry, maybe. Or for him to roll over and distance himself. But instead, he did the opposite. He held her in silence like nothing had changed. Like she hadn’t just flipped the entire dynamic between them on its head.

She curled into him, tucking her face into the crook of his neck, too ashamed to look him in the eye. His scent was still on her skin. Her pulse was still racing, her body still warm—and yet her chest felt hollow.

His hand rested on her back, moving slowly in comforting strokes that made her feel fragile. Not in a bad way. Just… a bit vulnerable.

The room was quiet for a long while.

Then, his voice—

“Did I scare you?”

Her eyes, drooping slightly like she might fall asleep, immediately shot open.

She debated moving so she could look at him. But Suna didn't move. Just stayed where he was, breathing steadily, his thumb still brushing small circles against her spine. But it was his voice that gave him away. Quiet. Careful. Laced with something unspoken. Guilt, maybe. Or doubt.

Her chest ached.

“No,” she said softly. “You’d never scare me.”

And she meant it.

But she didn’t know how to explain the rest—that it wasn’t fear holding her back, but the opposite. That it was the feelings she had buried, the ones she had never voiced that made her back down. The ones that had clawed their way back to the surface the moment he touched her tonight.

She swallowed, choosing her words wisely.

“It just… felt like a lot, all at once.”

A pause.

Then a quiet hum from him. Not disbelieving, not dismissive—just thoughtful. Like he’d been hoping for more, but wouldn’t ask.

Instead, he just pulled her closer.

His hand settled again on her back, firm and grounding. Like he was telling her, wordlessly, that he was still here. That nothing had changed.

She let herself believe it.

545 notes · View notes

okaylikeschaewon · 1 day ago

Text

Unravel

~8.5k words, TPM Book 3, Part 2, smut, Series Masterlist

“A text would have been nice.”

“I said I’m sorry,” you pleaded – a feeble attempt to make her understand. “It was spontaneous, I didn’t plan on staying the night.”

“Oh? You didn’t plan on staying the night?” Sana mocked your voice, crossing her arms tightly. “Great, that makes two of us.”

“Sweetie–”

“Don’t ‘sweetie’ me right now,” Sana snapped, her eyes shooting daggers at you. “I really don’t think I’m asking for too much. You changed your mind and decided you wanted to fuck another member, fine, all I’m asking is for a bit of a heads-up so I don’t spend my whole evening waiting for you. Is that unreasonable? Am I the one being unreasonable right now?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Did you sleep with her?” Sana asked directly, not an ounce of hesitation in her voice.

“Well…”

“It’s a pretty straightforward question,” Sana hissed. “Did you put your dick in her or not?”

“Technically–”

Sana turned around and stomped off before you could explain. “Unbelievable,” she muttered under her breath before sitting on the couch and pulling out her phone.

“Sana!” you called out after her, following her into the living room and sitting next to her. “Tzu had some personal stuff happen, I had to be there for her.”

“I’m not upset with Tzu,” Sana replied coldly without looking up from her phone. “She’s not the one who broke a promise.”

“I didn’t mean to–”

“Well, you did, whether or not you meant to,” she replied, her tone sharp as her fingers aggressively scrolled through nothingness on her phone. “It would have been fine if you just said you weren’t in the mood. You literally could have told me you’d rather fuck one of the others and I wouldn’t have cared.”

“Sana, it’s not that I didn’t want to,” you emphasized again while reaching out to her.

“Don’t touch me, I’m still mad at you,” she slapped your arm away lightly as she sulked. “Or, fuck, you could have just made up something. Anything. It’s not like I don’t know you have to fuck them whenever they ask. But no, you couldn’t even give me a call, or a text, or a fucking pigeon for all I care.”

“A pigeon?”

“It’s not like I just went through a whole fucking emotional roller coaster yesterday. It’s not like I wanted my boyfriend’s comfort.”

“I thought we weren’t using those terms–”

“Fine, fuckbuddy, side-bitch, roommate, whatever you wanna call it, I don’t care!” Sana shouted, tossing her phone aside. “It’s not like you’re acting like a boyfriend right now anyway.”

“You’re right, I’m not worthy,” you dropped down to your knees in front of her and playfully bowed your head in shame. “Forgive me, my queen.”

“Get up, stop being dumb,” Sana rolled her eyes, the corners of her mouth betraying her livid demeanor for a brief moment. “This won’t work.”

“Do I need to kiss your precious feet? To show you how sorry I am?”

“Don’t you fucking dare put your mouth on my feet,” Sana replied sternly, pulling away. “Get. Up. Here.”

“Only if you promise to stop being mad at me.”

“Does it even matter if I do? Apparently promises don’t mean anything in your world,” Sana shot back.

“Alright, I deserved that one,” you smiled, standing back up and holding your arms out, waiting for her permission. She really took a moment to contemplate, to make you sweat, before she nodded just slightly, letting you cuddle up next to her. “I understand you’re upset with me, I fucked up, you’re right,” you added gently as you held her. “Yesterday was a tough day, a lot happened with the contract stuff.”

“It was tough for me, too,” Sana responded quietly, dropping her shoulders and staring at you with soft eyes. “I get that you had to deal with Tzu’s thing, but really, I didn’t expect to feel so neglected.”

“No and that’s completely valid, I fucked up. I should have at least called.”

“Maybe I’m being sensitive–”

“You’re not,” you reassured her before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Whatever you want, I’m yours.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary,” Sana gave you a faint smile. Her frustration quickly faded away, her tone softened, and her body language relaxed. “How’s she doing by the way? Did you get her situation sorted out?”

“Not really, I’ll have to stop by the offices,” you answered, your insides burning hot again at the thought of what happened. “That’s my problem to worry about though. Tell me, what do you want to do tonight? I can make a reservation somewhere if you want.”

“There’s actually this place Dahyun and I wanted to try, apparently their naengmyeon is really good,” Sana replied with a hint of excitement in her voice, without any of the anger from earlier.

“Sounds good, send me the name and I’ll make the reso’,” you replied, setting a reminder in your phone. “Hey, so I have like half an hour before I have to go pick up Nayeon…”

Sana waited patiently for you to continue, a frown on her face, daring you to suggest it.

“What do you say? Shall we have some fun and make up for last night?” you asked with a teasing smile.

“You think it’s going to be that easy?” Sana feigned annoyance. “A few words and you get to do whatever you want with me again? Just like that?”

“I mean, I was ready to suck your toes.”

“Stop,” Sana whined with a smile that absolutely melted you. “We both know how much you hate foot stuff.”

“Yeah, but, anything for you,” you replied, leaning closer and slowly snaking your hand around Sana’s body. “What do you say? Quick one?”

“No,” she whispered back quietly. “We’ll see after dinner, and don’t you even dare think about spending tonight with another member.”

—

A few days later

“You sure it’s alright?” Nayeon asked, unable to hide how bad she felt. “I’m really sorry, you know how these things are.”

“Nayeon, I get it, this type of shit happens almost every day,” you gave her an encouraging smile. “Finish up whatever you have left, just text me when you’re done.”

“I’ll make it up to you after, I promise,” she winked.

“It’s fine, and stop feeling bad, seriously,” you chuckled. “Now go, I’m so proud of you.”

She nodded enthusiastically before turning around and running back into the practice room. This past week has been tough for Nayeon, she really got no breaks. On top of all the group activities, she still had to work on her solo projects. Ever since the contract fiasco from a few days ago, Nayeon has been working overtime basically every single day; You couldn’t help but feel a bit bad for her.

That was part of why you decided to volunteer so much when it came to helping her out. Obviously someone else could drop her off, but you knew she was more comfortable with you. And, well, it did come with some benefits that you were particularly fond of; Nayeon had become the type of girl who would manage her stress by getting horny – and you were her solution.

Even now, as you walked the empty hallways of the JYP offices, you couldn’t help but daydream about what you knew Nayeon would ask for the second she finished working. During the days you had Nayeon, and in the evenings you had Sana – the last few days have honestly been pretty great in that regard.

“Oh!” you were knocked out of your daydream as you stumbled into a small figure. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the girl quickly bowed respectfully towards you before looking up at you and freezing.

That’s when you recognized her.

“Oh, Yeji, how’s everything?”

She stared at you, almost as if she was trying to remember you, her mind still somewhat out of it. “Are you…” she mumbled softly.

“Am I?” you cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I’m sorry,” she quickly bowed again before shaking out of her little trance. “I just thought I recognized you from somewhere.”

“We’ve met very briefly at a couple of company events, but I don’t think we’ve ever properly spoken,” you explained. It was true, you obviously knew who she was, but you’ve never had the opportunity to really talk to her. Truthfully, she caught your eye the most in her group – the sharp expression she regularly wore and that fit body just always resonated with you. “I’m one of Twice’s managers.”

“Ah, right, you–” she suddenly stopped talking and began shifting around nervously. “Right, anyway, I’m doing alright. What about you? Where are you heading? It’s kinda late, no?”

“Well, I planned to go talk to some people about some manager stuff, but I don’t think anyone’s in the office at this time,” you answered while checking to see if you had any replies on your phone. You had sent a few messages earlier in hopes that you could get this picture thing figured out for Tzuyu, but all you saw was a text from Nayeon saying she’d be another hour. “I guess now I’m just waiting for Nayeon, going to find somewhere to kill an hour. What about you? What are you doing here so late?”

“Oh, nothing in particular, honestly, I kinda just came here to relax for a bit after our schedules. Sometimes it’s a bit more peaceful here than at our dorms.”

“I can imagine,” you smiled comfortingly. “Busy day?”

“Every day’s a busy day,” she smiled back before an odd look flashed across her face. She very clearly had something on her mind and didn’t know how to say it.

“Well–” you began before being interrupted.

“Would you like to grab coffee for a bit?” she blurted out as her cheeks immediately flushed red. “I just mean if you have nothing to do, I could use some company.”

“Uh,” you hesitated, a little confused by the whole interaction. “Yeah sure, why not.”

“Cool,” Yeji replied before awkwardly pausing.

“Shall we?”

“Oh, right, yeah,” she quickly turned around and started walking towards the elevators.

One of the benefits of working in an idol-filled building was the constant opportunity to see stunning women – and Yeji was among the best. Those accentuated curves in the little crop-top jacket she had on, and her perfect legs in those casual, skin-tight jeans, it all looked fucking amazing. Even though you were trying to be courteous and professional, you couldn't help but notice how her ass swayed with every step.

“It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” Yeji began, glancing over her shoulder. “We’ve worked at the same company for so long, yet we’ve never properly talked.”

“Hm?” you quickly averted your attention from Yeji’s hips and sped up to walk next to her. “Yeah, it’s a big company though.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“You know that I know about your group, right?” you chuckled as you followed her into the elevator. “It’s not like I don’t know you exist. I still listen to all your music and whatnot.”

“Oh yeah, do you have a favorite member?” she grinned as she leaned against the elevator wall with her arms crossed. “And is it me?”

“Okay, I don’t think you’ll believe me, but it’s actually you.”

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” she chuckled, stepping out of the elevator in front of you. “But thanks.”

“No, seriously,” you quickly followed behind her. “That River cover? Chef’s kiss. I’ve been a fan since before I joined, actually.”

“Oh?” she turned to you with a curious smile. “Really?”

“Even before I joined the company, I always enjoyed watching fancams,” you continued, “and I’m not ashamed to admit it, I’ve watched a lot of yours.”

“Please, you’re going to make me blush.”

“I’m not kidding. You’re a phenomenal dancer. Also, keep this between us, you have the sexiest eyes I have ever seen.”

“Alright, now I’m actually blushing,” Yeji giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Don’t do that, I love your smile. Don’t hide it.”

“I didn’t realize Twice’s manager was so flirty,” Yeji smiled warmly as she navigated the coffee machine’s menus.

“And I didn’t realize how pretty you were up close,” you smiled back.

“Stop,” Yeji whined, stretching out the word with an unwavering smile on her lips. “Do you treat the Twice members like this, too?”

“No, of course not, I’m strictly professional,” you lied.

“Are you?” Yeji shot you a glance as she picked up her mug.

There was a subtle, but noticeable, tonal shift in the air between the two of you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked as you began making a cup for yourself.

“I don’t know,” Yeji toyed with the handle of her mug. “I’ve just heard things.”

“Things?”

“Yeah, things.”

Did she know? you thought to yourself. “Care to elaborate?” you inquired as you picked up your drink and gestured towards one of the tables.

Yeji nodded, and the two of you sat down together, nothing but the steam from your coffees blocking the firm gaze she had on you. “I’ve heard you and some of the members might have…”

“You can tell me, it’s fine,” you encouraged her to continue.

“Okay there was this one time when I overheard one of the members saying something about you… something that I wasn’t sure if I heard correctly.”

“Is that why you gave me that look earlier?”

“What look?”

“Yeji,” you sighed, smiling down at your cup of coffee. “Alright, I think we can stop beating around the bush. Yes, I’ve slept with some of the members, and you obviously know.”

“As in multiple?” Yeji gasped, her cat-like eyes shooting open.

“Do you wanna get on the intercom?”

“Sorry,” Yeji whispered, leaning in closer to you. “Multiple?”

“Seems like you didn’t know everything. Okay, I’ve slept with all of them,” you answered honestly, “it's part of my job. There, now you know.”

Yeji leaned back in her chair, staring at you as she contemplated your words. Even though there was a long pause, and obvious shock on her face, she didn’t seem to be looking at you negatively. Rather, it seemed to come more from a place of curiosity. She took a moment to properly digest what you had revealed to her before she spoke again.

“Why don’t we get a manager like that?”

“What?” you nearly choked on your sip. That was the last thing you expected her to say. “Is that what you want?” you laughed, putting down your mug again.

“I just mean like, that’s genius,” Yeji continued while casually sipping her drink. “As far as I know, none of the girls have been with a guy, but we’re still… you know,” she flashed a shy smile. “They’re constantly asking me about it.”

“Asking you?”

“Yeah, but I’ve only done it once, and I really can’t tell them much.”

“Oh?”

“What?” Yeji tilted her head slightly as if confused by your reaction. “After what you just told me, I don’t think I need to hide anything from you. It goes without saying, please don’t tell anyone, obviously. I had to be pretty sneaky about it.”

“My lips are sealed as long as yours are,” you replied while pretending to zip them. “Wait, but are you serious about wanting a similar arrangement? I might be able to talk to someone about it, and due to some recent events I ended up moving pretty high in the company.”

“Could you?” her eyes lit up. “I don’t really know how that works though, did all the girls have to approve of you or something first?”

“Uh,” you pondered her question. “Honestly, I never really thought about it, but they probably did?”

“I see,” she cupped her mug with both hands and began thinking. “You know what, maybe hold off on that part. Let me at least talk to the girls about what they want.”

“Fair enough, reach out whenever.”

“Speaking of,” Yeji pulled out her phone, “can I get your number then?”

“Yeah, of course,” you typed it in for her before handing it back. “I can’t say I expected my evening to go like this, but this was nice. Unexpected, but nice.”

“Agreed! I just feel somewhat comfortable around you. I can’t really explain it.”

“Thank you, and I think I get it, because I’m pretty sure I feel the same way about you. I rarely tell anyone about my job – for obvious reasons.”

“Funny how things work sometimes,” Yeji smiled gently. “How many people know?”

“Very few. Plus you now, I guess.”

“Right,” she chuckled. “Well, no one outside of my members knows that I’m not a virgin, so I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Like I said earlier, my lips are sealed.”

Yeji leaned in closer to you, lowering her voice some more. “Mind if I ask you something kinda personal? Since you’re probably a bit experienced and I don’t really have many people I can talk to about this type of thing.”

“Sure, anything.”

“Is it supposed to hurt?”

This was the most concerned she had looked throughout this entire conversation.

“Well, you see,” you leaned in a bit closer, “everyone’s different, but yeah the first time can hurt.”

“I see,” Yeji drummed her fingers against her mug.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but I assume your first time wasn’t great?”

“What gave that away?” Yeji smiled with a small shake of her head. “No, it honestly just hurt more than anything. I think it felt good for him?”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I hope you’re not discouraged. It’s not like it’s your fault, most people find the first time kinda sucks.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really,” you gave her a reassuring smile. “You just have to find the right person, someone who’s compatible with you.”

“I definitely rushed it just for the sake of trying,” Yeji confessed. “Nothing against the guy, but he was also pretty inexperienced.”

“That happens, especially when people get into their first relationship.”

“I wish it was a relationship,” Yeji laughed, leaning back in her chair. “It was a stupid hookup with an old acquaintance. Like I said, I rushed it.”

“Ah, well, don’t feel bad about it. Can’t change the past, and you definitely wouldn’t be the only person who rushed it.”

“You’re right,” Yeji sighed before taking another sip. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that offer, even if the others aren’t interested.”

“Absolutely, you have my number, text me whenever,” you smiled.

Yeji smiled back – she really did have an adorable one. “Alright, my ride came early and is actually waiting for me, I should probably get going.”

“Alright Yeji,” you stood up and held your hand out. “It has been a pleasure finally getting to meet you properly.”

“Likewise! I’m sure I’ll be in touch soon.”

—

“Ugh. Fuck. I’ve needed this so much,” Nayeon moaned over her shoulder at you.

“You and me both,” you grunted as you slammed your hips into Nayeon’s pussy from behind.

She held onto the headrest for deal life as the sound of you clapping her cheeks echoed throughout the parking garage. Thankfully it was late enough for no one to bother you, but at this point even if someone walked by, you really didn’t give a fuck. This wasn’t the first time in the past week since the contract renewals that you’ve taken Nayeon in the parking garage, and the risk never seemed like enough to deter either of you.

This was Nayeon’s stress relief. Ever since she went full-force into her solo activities, she had become more stressed than ever, so whenever you would pick her up you’d end up with your cock in her. It was a daily activity at this point. Sometimes you’d make it back to the apartment first, usually you wouldn’t – you’ve discovered more secret sex rooms in the office this week than ever before.

“Ah, shit,” Nayeon cried out, tensing the leg she was balancing on as it trembled, nearly falling to the ground.

“Just a bit more,” you moaned back as you grabbed her hips for support, pushing even deeper into her pussy. “Fuck, you’re making such a mess.”

“Sorry,” she gasped before shoving one of her hands between her legs and showing how little she actually cared about the apology. She rubbed her clit as hard as she could, and within seconds she ended up sending streams all over the concrete next to where you were parked. “Oh fuck baby that’s good!”

The slapping was muffled by a wetness that only Nayeon could bring, each thrust of your cock into her pussy earning a fresh wave. You wanted to pull out, just for a second, to see her spray like a hose all over everything – but she felt too fucking good right now. You couldn’t stop, your hips had a mind of their own.

“Nayeon, I’m about to…” you tightened your grip on her hips and pushed forward as hard as you could until you felt the warmth shoot out of your cock, “...cum.”

“I can feel it,” Nayeon moaned, slowly moving her ass back and forward against your cock, squeezing out all of you cum with her pussy.

Once your cock stopped twitching, you slowly eased out of her, admiring the fountain of wetness dripping out of her pussy and straight onto the concrete below. Nayeon quickly turned around and took a seat, trying to keep her pants – which were bunched around one of her ankles – out of the puddle she had left next to your car.

“I love how I don’t even have to tell you anymore,” you smiled as you stepped up right in front of her.

“Not hard to remember when this is a daily activity,” Nayeon smiled, pressing her hand against her pussy again and opening her mouth wide for you.

“Good girl,” you moaned as you placed your cock into her mouth and grabbed the back of her head gently.

Nayeon went to work with her tongue, collecting any and everything she could off your cock, thoroughly cleaning it while fingering herself in the process. She got to do most of the movement herself, assisted only by the occasional thrust of your hips as you twitched your sensitive cock deeper into her mouth, all the way to the base.

“How’d recording go?” you mumbled under your breath while stroking Nayeon’s hair back.

She sat up straight and let your cock slip out of her mouth, and she wrapped her slender fingers around your balls, fondling them slowly. “Not bad, I’ll probably need a couple more days before I switch up and focus on the group concert.”

“If you ever want a break, we can arrange something.”

“This is my break,” she leaned forward and gave your tip a small kiss before letting go and leaning back in her seat.

“Fine with me,” you chuckled, pulling up your pants. You walked around the back of your car and sat down in the driver seat. “I love this new version of you.”

“What new version?” Nayeon grunted as she toyed herself with her pussy pointing out her open door.

“The one that’s always horny,” you leaned over the center and wrapped a hand around Nayeon’s mouth. “You’re going to get us caught if you keep making all that noise.”

She moaned something into your hand, something along the lines of ‘fuck you’, but her frustration didn’t last long as you slipped your other hand down between her legs.

If anyone was to enter the parking garage at this moment they would be greeted by a full view of Nayeon’s pussy, but she didn’t care at all. She screamed out against your hand as you slipped two fingers into her, curling them up and thrusting as fast as you could go for just a few seconds before jerking them out and pressing down on her clit.

She reached her own hand towards her pussy but you swiftly slapped it away. “No touching,” you hissed into her ear, bringing your fingers back to her entrance, leaving her clit and slipping them in.

It was obvious she wasn’t happy about it, but she listened, squirming and writhing at your touch, trying to push you in deeper by using her hips. You played along, giving her what she wanted while still teasing her pussy just enough to drive her insane. There was a beautiful balancing act that you knew would make it so much better in the end, even if Nayeon hated you for it at the moment.

And you knew it was working – her pussy was speaking to you through your fingers. She squeezed and pressed down hard, waves of pleasure aching through her pussy with each little thrust of your hand until it all became too much. You knew this was the end, all that was left was for you to pull your fingers back out and press on her clit.

Nayeon moaned louder than ever – basically screaming – as she began squirting across the parking garage, leaving long streaks of her slick all over the concrete. She lifted herself up with her legs, spreading them farther, shooting her mess as far as possible out your passenger door, painting the ground dark.

Only once her pussy stopped spraying did you stop. It didn’t matter how hard Nayeon would cum, she always had more in her – that was the beauty of it. You plunged two fingers back into her pussy, just for a couple more seconds, before quickly withdrawing and letting her squirt again and again, seemingly forever.

“I swear we’re getting caught one day,” you chuckled as Nayeon collapsed backwards against you, her legs shaking slightly and her breaths heavy.

“I don’t give a fuck,” she panted before straining herself up and closing the door. She didn’t even bother pulling up her pants as she glanced at you, collapsed in her seat and panting deeply, slowly regaining composure. “What about you, what did you end up doing?”

“Oh nothing, just tried again to talk to someone about the Tzuyu situation, but no luck.”

“I’m really sorry,” Nayeon softened her gaze and pulled up her pants. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think so,” you sighed as you turned on the car. “I just don’t understand why the fuck she did it.”

“I don’t know, as far as I know she hasn’t told anyone about it.”

“It just makes no sense.”

“Maybe it was for financial reasons?” Nayeon suggested. “If she was planning on quitting anyway, I could see those pics having a lot of potential.”

“Really? You think she’d do that just for money? That sounds fucking stupid.”

“I agree, but I don’t know why else she would,” Nayeon frowned. “Sorry, it was a stupid idea.

As you stopped at a red light, you looked over at Nayeon and shot her a warm, apologetic gaze. “Don’t be, I wasn’t trying to say you’re stupid, it’s a fair idea I just don’t think it’s why she did it.”

“So why do you think she did it?”

“I have no fucking idea,” you sighed, slamming your hand against the top of the steering wheel.

“Hey,” Nayeon reached across the car and placed her hand on your leg. “Maybe we should stop thinking about it, for now?”

“How can–”

“Please?”

She was looking at you with such precious eyes – full of concern – and a gentle, understanding expression. Her head was tilted just slightly with a small, hopeful smile on her lips.

“Alright,” you sighed, returning her smile.

“I know something that can help get your mind off it,” Nayeon leaned over the central console. “Just don’t crash.”

“Nayeon that’s not necessary–” you began as she unbuckled your pants and began pulling them down.

“Do you have any idea how hard you made me cum earlier?” she whispered before diving her face down between your legs and licking your balls. “This is just payback.”

Before you could respond, you felt her lips on your tip. A rush of excitement shot up your spine as the wetness of Nayeon’s mouth enveloped your cock. It took all your power to focus on driving once Nayeon had started bobbing her head up and down gently.

Luckily, you were already at her apartment, so you quickly pulled over in front of their building. Since it was fairly late there seemed to be no one walking around, so you had some sense of comfort knowing you were unlikely to get caught. Still, you were on a completely open street where anyone could walk by, and it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on.

It wasn’t guaranteed that no one would walk by, but at this point you were so engrossed in Nayeon’s blowjob that you once again tonight decided you didn’t care anymore. You pulled the latch and laid your seat down all the way. Once fully reclined, you rested a hand on Nayeon’s back and closed your eyes, focusing everything on Nayeon’s mouth. She kept her pace steady, not too fast, and definitely not too slow – at this point it was really just your own stress holding you back from blowing.

So you tried to relax some more – as if laying here with the setting sun’s warmth barely lighting up your car and Nayeon sucking your cock as if she was your girlfriend wasn’t enough. You really tried to let go of everything, no more pictures, no more angry pretend-girlfriend, no more emotional messes, no more work – just Nayeon’s mouth.

Sure enough, it was working. Or, probably, Nayeon had just been sucking you off for long enough for nothing else to matter to your body. You felt it coming, and part of you just wanted to freeze and it let it happen, but the courteous thing to do would be to at least let Nayeon know you were about to fill her mouth. Selfishly, you decided it was Nayeon’s problem, even as she was here doing you the favor. She’d understand – hopefully.

Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore as finally you could fade away into bliss, finally you could let go of the stresses of life, the difficulties of feelings and relationships. All you had to worry about now was the fountain of white you had begun launching into Nayeon’s mouth. She squealed, clearly surprised by the first shot, but Nayeon was far from inexperienced. She didn’t let off – she kept bobbing up and down your cock, albeit slightly slower now and with the occasional whine.

As much as you wanted to see Nayeon’s cute cheeks filling up with your cum, the strength needed to sit yourself up was non-existent. You conceded to the shivers shooting up your spine, the pleasure rushing through your brain, and you lay there with your hand resting on Nayeon’s back, simply taking in the slopping noises Nayeon’s mouth was making against your cock.

Once thoroughly drained, you finally groaned yourself up, bringing your seat upright.

“My–”

“Don’t,” Nayeon held up her hand as she wiped her lips. “I don’t even want to hear it.”

“I really don’t know why I didn’t say anything.”

“It’s whatever, I’ll let it slide this time,” Nayeon shook her head and grabbed the handle to her door. “What’s your plan now? Wanna come up?”

“Still horny?”

“Oh please,” Nayeon scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re one to talk. Really, how can you even have that much left in you after everything?”

“Good diet, I supposed,” you grinned at her before sighing again. “I would, but Sana has been a bit sensitive lately, I should probably avoid skipping nights with her for a bit.”

“Ah, right,” Nayeon frowned, letting go of the handle. “You know, you could take a couple days off, I can get a ride with someone else.”

“What? Then who’s going to fuck the shit out of you throughout the day?”

“I’m being serious,” Nayeon burst out laughing. “Really, if you wanna spend some more time with Sana–”

“My job is for all of you, not just Sana,” you stated firmly. “She understands that. I still get to see her at night even on days when she doesn’t come into the office, everything’s good between us.”

“Alright,” Nayeon bit her lip softly.

“You don’t seem convinced.”

“No, I believe you.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t.”

“What?” Nayeon raised an eyebrow. “Did something happen?”

“It’s just that Momo said something kinda similar,” you explained, “something about how I wasn’t taking this relationship thing with Sana seriously enough.”

“Ah,” Nayeon turned towards you some more, opening up her body. “Do you feel that way?”

“I mean, I obviously have a lot of love for Sana, but how seriously can I take this relationship thing we have going on? Like, come on, I’m still fucking her closest friends on a daily basis.”

“No one said it’s a simple situation, you obviously have an unorthodox career thing going on.”

“But?”

Nayeon smiled warmly as you read her mind. “But, that doesn’t mean that the feelings aren’t real. Forget about the physical sex you’re having with the others for just a moment.”

“How can I just ignore that part?”

“Well–”

“Let me ask you this,” you cut her off, “do you really think you’d be cool with it if I was your boyfriend and I was also fucking Momo every day?”

“That’s…” Nayeon sighed. “But then why do you do it? Why are you even pretending to be in a relationship with her?”

“I…”

“You can fuck all nine of us basically whenever you want, so what’s even the point? Why go through the headache?”

“I don’t really know…”

“Do you love her?”

“Nayeon, of course–”

“No, that’s not what I’m asking,” Nayeon stared, unwavering, into your eyes. “I know you love her, but I also know she’s not the only one, and she’s definitely not the only one who loves you.”

The first person that came to your mind was Mina and that confession from the contract renewal day. Then the others, and lastly the girl sitting right in front of you. You felt a slight stab in the chest when you thought about Nayeon, because at this point you basically knew she had feelings for you.

“It’s a bit too late at this point,” Nayeon continued, “the truth is, you’re right. I wouldn’t be okay with it if you were my boyfriend and also fucking the other members.”

“And I’d assume you also don’t think Sana would be okay with it?”

Nayeon gave you a meek smile before continuing. “Do you love her enough to pick her over everyone else? If you had to choose, would she be the one?”

“I guess I have to make that decision, don’t I?”

“That’s the thing, you don’t,” Nayeon replied as she reached for the door handle again. “But maybe you should.”

With that, she left the car, leaving you staring at her as she walked through the doors to her building – a whole new problem stuck in your head.

—

“I’ve missed you so much.”

“You smell like sex,” Sana replied without even sparing a glance away from her phone. She sat on the couch in nothing but a loose shirt and some purple panties, her knees up to her chest. “Nayeon?”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll go shower real qu–”

“No need,” Sana tossed her phone to the side and reached up for your arms, dragging you onto the couch with her. “You hungry? We have leftovers, I could warm something up for you.”

“I’m alright, not much of an appetite right now,” you murmured as you buried your face into Sana’s neck.

“Is everything alright? You’ve seemed a bit more stressed than usual lately.”

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you sighed softly.

Sana gently rubbed your back, holding you tight in her embrace. “Can I help?” she asked, her tone caring and full of concern.

“You’re already helping,” you squeezed, “I can’t ask for more.”

“I don’t know if I agree.”

Slowly, you lifted yourself up. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you think I’ve been a bit unfair to you these last couple of days? I’ve snapped at you and been difficult for no reason.”

“Sana, where is this coming from? Are you okay?”

“I just feel bad,” she admitted quietly, “you’re at the office before me, and you come home way later than me. I can see how hard you’ve been working recently and I just don’t feel like I’m doing my part.”

“Doing your part? Sweetheart, how can you think that for even a second? There’s no way you think my life is harder than yours, are you kidding me?”

“I’m not trying to compare, I’m just saying I wish I could do more for you. To help you.”

“You’re helping me more than you know,” you replied, pushing her hair out of her face. “Every day I look forward to coming home and seeing you here, waiting for me. You have no idea how much I love that.”

Sana smiled, a small twinkle in her eyes. “And I love being here when you come home,” she whispered before she leaned up towards you.

Meeting her halfway, you carefully slipped your hands under her body. Your foreheads touched softly, and her breathing slowed down. The eye contact, this close and personal, was unreal; There was this deep connection, silent and aching, that both of you experienced together.

Once you finally pressed your lips to hers – your eyes closing slowly – it felt better than you could have imagined. The kiss was tender and slow, full of anticipation and urgency. It felt both rushed and patient at the same time, your bodies working together and against each other simultaneously.

Her hands began clawing at your back, and your tongue slowly eased into her mouth, intertwining carefully with hers. You eased in a bit closer than you already were, deepening the kiss but keeping it tender, not rushing it at all.

Your hands wrapped around her small frame, holding her, reminding you that she was yours. Her gentle curves, her soft skin, and that tender love you felt – it was all yours.

Eventually you pulled apart, just enough for your lips to separate, and held close. Your deep breaths mixed as your mouths held just a few inches apart.

“I want more,” she whispered quietly.

“Take these off,” you whispered back, tugging at the purple panties she had on.

“Okay,” Sana purred as she pushed you back and turned around, grabbing the back of the couch and bending over at the hips. She pointed her ass towards you before she reached back with both hands and slowly revealed herself. “I’m all yours. You can fuck me, as much as you want. Use me, in any way you want.”

“No,” you whispered in response, crawling forward towards her and wrapping your arms around her, leaning right up against her ear. “Tell me what you want, because that’s what I want.”

She hesitated for a moment, shifting her body to the side.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” you whispered before you stood up from the couch and stripped down.

She bit her lip, staring up at you in deep thought. Even as you leaned forward and pulled her shirt off, leaving her sitting there with nothing on, she waited.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, taking a seat on the couch with your cock in hand. “Anything at all, just tell me.”

Her breaths quickened and she began crawling over closer to you. “I just want to ride you,” Sana whispered as she straddled your lap and cupped your face in her hands. She sat down on your lap – her pussy right on top of your cock – and started kissing you passionately.

Her movements were fast, but calculated. No loud moans, no shrieks – only soft kisses and gentle caresses. She slid her hips forward and back, back and forward, coaxing you to life – as if you could get any harder.

Then she paused, for just a moment, to reach back and take a hold of your shaft. She lined you up, slipping it in as she lowered herself down, a drawn-out breath escaping her lips. Sana shut her eyes tight, relishing in the ecstasy of you filling her up, inhaling and exhaling through parted lips, scrunching up her forehead.

Patiently, you lay there, waiting for her to make the next move. Your hands rested gently against Sana’s thighs, holding her steady. You felt Sana’s hands as she opened her eyes, taking the lead and interlocking fingers with yours. She looked down at you, an emotional smile flashed across her face as she gave your hands a tender squeeze. Then, she lifted her body up, just to bring it slowly back down.

“Oh fuck,” you murmured as Sana rode you. She was slow, making sure you felt every movement, every bit of warmth and pleasure that her pussy could offer.

“You feel amazing,” Sana whispered, speeding up just a touch.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are right now,” you moaned, your features scrunching up as Sana’s pussy began taking over your mind. You became more active, moving your hips in tandem with Sana, but she still did most of the work.

This time felt different. You’ve, frankly put, fucked Sana’s pussy countless times at this point, but there was something special tonight. You didn’t expect to feel so much, Sana’s body, her movements, the grip she had on your hands as if holding on for dear life, it all came together so magically.

She worked your cock expertly, her toned abs staring into you as she moved, her gorgeous tits recoiling with each bounce. Nothing could be more perfect than Sana’s body. The way her face just filled with pleasure and longing, the beautiful curves of her frame, and every single sexy breath that escaped her lips.

“Oh my fucking–” you cried out softly. “You’re so fucking amazing. You’re so fucking perfect.”

Sana replied with a loud moan, picking up her pace some more. She was starting to build up a sweat, putting in as much effort as possible – all to make you feel good. Her warmth engulfed you, her pussy soaked and tender. She would let out a little gasp, a soft squeal, each and every time your cock disappeared inside her body.

Every little movement felt like it was echoing, your senses reverberating harder than ever, an overwhelming sense of pleasure and delight that you still managed to swallow up. Every shiver and pulse, each one felt like an attack on your mind, each one feeling better than the last. Sana’s body, softer than ever, was doing things to you that you’ve never felt before. That mutual connection, quiet yet loud, was driving you insane. You could feel it in every fibre of your body – the end was near.

Then, as feelings hit an all-time high, and pleasure coursed through your body, you let out a sharp gasp before your mind faded to darkness. Everything happened so fast, you couldn’t keep up; Your body froze, laying there like a statue while Sana rode it out. She did it all, moving her hips back and forth as you filled her pussy up, your warm cum spilling out of her and back onto your own body. It felt fucking amazing, better than ever.

“Sana–”

“Just relax,” she whispered, letting go of your hands and lowering herself onto your chest. “I’m here, just breathe.”

Her words brought you comfort, that tone she spoke in – she probably could have said literally anything and it would have worked. Then, she began planting soft kisses against your chest, still moving her hips side to side just enough to keep it going.

Eventually, as your brain was overloaded with stimulation, your body finally began calming down. Now, alongside your heavy breathing, was just the feeling of Sana’s tender kisses.

Your cock slipped out of her warmth, and another fresh wave of cum spilled from her body. As much as you wanted to just lay there with her and enjoy the moment, you knew the mess needed to be addressed.

Carefully and methodically, you turned Sana onto her back and gave her a kiss. She wrapped her legs around your hips, pulling you in closer. You both ended up in a frenzy of passion and love, mouths glued together as neither dared to separate.

She felt so soft against your skin, her warmth radiating through you as your heartbeats combined into one unified rhythm. Her tongue grazed against your teeth, twisting and mixing against your tongue while staying gentle, like a romantic little dance.

As much as you would have loved to kiss her forever, you felt the natural end. You lifted yourself up slowly, pausing just to admire the way Sana’s chest heaved with each deep breath she took, her eyes wide and loving as she stared up at you.

“That was fucking amazing,” you smiled at her as you got off her and began walking towards the bathroom. “Let me grab some wipes, we made a mess.”

“There’s something I wanted to talk to you about first,” Sana spoke softly, sitting up on the couch. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure, everything alright?” you let go of the bathroom door’s handle and turned around.

“Well,” she hesitated, waiting for you to sit down next to her. Only once you took a seat did she continue. “I spoke to Tzuyu today and she told me what she did.”

“She…” your body went warm. “The pictures?”

“Yes.”

It took a moment for you to ask the next question. For some reason, the way Sana was acting – her body language and tone – something about it had you slightly uncomfortable. You were a bit on edge, nervous maybe, and you weren’t entirely sure why but you had a feeling you weren’t going to like what she had to say.

“What did she say?” you asked softly.

“She told me she almost quit,” Sana muttered quietly under her breath.

“Yeah, she told me the same,” you placed your hand on Sana’s thigh trying your best to be encouraging.

“Promise me something,” she looked up into your eyes. “Promise me that no matter what I’m about to tell you, that you won’t tell anyone that I’m telling you.”

“Sana…”

“Promise me.”

Your heartbeat quickened and warmth flushed through your skin. “Alright, I promise,” you finally replied.

“The pictures were her choice–”

“What do you mean, her choice?”

“Let me explain,” Sana continued, her eyes beginning to well up. “She… She felt like it was her way to take back control. She said the way those guys made her feel, how special they made her feel during negotiations, she missed that feeling.”

“But…”

“I’m paraphrasing obviously. She was hurt, she was vulnerable, and she knows she fucked up.”

“I just don’t understand, why?”

“It’s very human to do things you wouldn’t normally do as a way to seek validation or affirmation,” Sana spoke softly, still very clearly fighting back tears. “Especially if she felt unseen or overlooked. She said they were nothing but kind, and that it was all her own decision. That’s also why she felt so bad when you got so upset about it.”

“When you say unseen or overlooked, you’re talking about me,” you replied quietly.

“Kind of,” she answered quietly, her expression full of pain and sorrow. “But maybe it’s my fault. I’ve definitely played a role, it’s not only your burden to bear.”

“No, Sana,” your vision began blurring. “I’m not going to let you blame yourself. This is on me, my fuck up.”

“Don’t say that,” a tear fell down her cheek. “It’s not your fault. I hurt her, even if she won’t say it, I know I did.”

“Please–”

“I love you, a lot, I promise I mean it,” Sana muttered softly as the tears began spilling freely down her face. “But I can’t, I can’t do this. As much as I love you, I also love my members, and I don’t have it in me to hurt any of them like this.”

“Sana–”

“I can’t do it,” Sana sniffled, “maybe one day this could work, but not right now.”

The heaviest silence you’ve ever experienced engulfed the room, leaving the two of you in a darkness that could be felt through your skin. There wasn’t anything left to be said, minds were made, decisions decided. This was it.

“We can make this work, Sana, I know we can,” you pleaded desperately as tears filled your eyes. “Please.”

“Remember when we started dating?” Sana wiped her nose with the back of her hand, more tears spilling down her face. “I told you there were three conditions, and I didn’t know the third one yet but one day you’d have to accept it?”

“Yeah, and I said that was unfair.”

“I know,” Sana smiled through the tears. “It is unfair–”

“Don’t do this.”

“But here’s my third condition. I need you to let this end. I promise you this isn’t easy for me, but it needs to happen. I wish it didn’t, but it does.”

“Sana–”

She silenced you by pulling you into a hug. There was just as much love and care as ever, but all you could feel was the resounding desolation coursing throughout your body. Even as Sana sobbed against you, there was nothing but a bleak emptiness in your head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered quietly.

Turns out that Nayeon was wrong about one thing, you didn’t have to make the decision to pick Sana over the others – she made it for you.

---

A/N:

You guys have been so damn amazing and patient, and I know a lot of you have been waiting for this story to come back, so here it is! I promise I'm not rushing the chapters, I just found some more time to write as I've needed a bit of an escape from life. I really hope you guys enjoy!

For those of you who have been following the story for a while, it's finally coming next chapter, the Yeji cameo that I've been teasing for way too long. It won't be exclusively Yeji next chapter, as you might have noticed the chapters are a bit longer now, so expect some steamy scenes from someone else as well.

Let me know what you guys think! We're sort of in the end-game of the story now, a lot of teasers and hints from the past are finally going to get paid off. Stuff I've planned for years, finally turning into words. No promises for when the next chapter comes out, but if people respond well to this I'll try to make it sooner rather than later!

#kpop smut #smut #kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfiction #twice smut

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kxsagi · 3 days ago

Note

HEYY I LOVED bllk characters when their gf says they'll sleep on the couch after an argument fanfic can you write about when u tell bllk boys to sleep on the couch after an argumenttttt

Feel free to ignore<3

“𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 😭”

a/n: thank you!!! post where gf! reader says she’ll sleep on the couch is here

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, bachira meguru, karasu tabito, ness alexis, otoya eita, aiku oliver

itoshi rin

"sleep on the couch."

he just blinks. you could tell him to sleep on a battlefield and he’d still look at you with the same amount of passive aggression.

“fine.”

but that night? loudest passive aggressive sighs ever. every three minutes.

you hear him dramatically shifting the blanket like he’s trying to fold a parachute.

he keeps walking back and forth to the kitchen so you see him being miserable.

eventually stands by the door like a sad victorian ghost until you break and call him back in.

“i knew you’d miss me.”

you throw a pillow at him and he smiles.

isagi yoichi

you say it and this man is like 🧍 “... really?”

tries to reason with you like it’s a team huddle.

“okay i know i messed up but can we have a second half? maybe a redo? golden goal?”

ends up quietly walking to the couch like he’s been benched.

lays there with his arms crossed like he’s been wrongfully imprisoned.

keeps refreshing your shared photos on his phone like it's going to heal him.

the second you walk out for water, he gives you the biggest puppy eyes.

you sigh and drag him back, and he’s like “thanks love, i was gonna get a cramp i swear.”

itoshi sae

you tell him to sleep on the couch and he just shrugs.

"kinda comfier anyway."

oh. OH. you are fuming.

he absolutely does it on purpose to make you more annoyed.

but lowkey he's checking the bedroom door every five minutes to see if you'll come out.

eventually sends you a text from the living room like: "come argue with me again. i miss your face when you're mad."

you don’t respond.

20 minutes later he peeks into the room, lays half of his body on the bed like a cat, and goes: “what if we… didn’t fight and made out instead?”

kaiser michael

"sleep on the couch."

"haha. that's cute. you're joking."

when you glare, he laughs, nervously.

he starts walking toward the couch like he's headed to the electric chair.

dramatically flops down, limbs splayed like a fallen protagonist.

“i hope you're happy. you've separated a king from his throne.”

texts you from ten feet away: "thinking of you. missing you. dying slowly. xoxo."

at 3 AM, you wake up to find him curled up by the door like a golden retriever.

“schatz, this floor is emotional torture. please.”

mikage reo

he actually looks offended that you’d even suggest it.

“me? on the couch? do you know how many beds i own?”

but still does it with a dramatic sigh and a blanket over his head like a sulky prince.

orders room service to the living room like he's at a hotel.

sends you snapchats from the couch: "me, alone, heartbroken, eating soufflé."

at 2 AM, he's in bed with you again like nothing happened.

“sorry. i had a nightmare that you hated me. oh wait.”

nagi seishiro

"... do i have to?"

pouts like a child. lays on the couch with a big sigh, blanket halfway on, limbs dangling.

sleeps for five minutes. comes back and lays next to the bed like a cat.

mumbles something like, “if i’m close enough, it still counts, right?”

you cave after ten minutes and pat the bed.

he flops in without a word and wraps himself around you.

“arguments suck. sleep is better.”

shidou ryusei

laughs when you tell him.

“damn, so i really pissed you off, huh? you sound kinda hot when you're angry.”

does not go to the couch.

instead, lays down on the floor beside the bed.

“i’ll sleep here. like a punished puppy. see if you can resist this tragic scene.”

at some point, starts fake-snoring obnoxiously loud on purpose.

“babe i’m gonna get scoliosis. let me in.”

you hit him with a pillow, but he grins.

and ends up in the bed anyway, arms and legs wrapped around you like a koala.

bachira meguru

gasps like you slapped him.

“not the COUCH!! my mortal enemy!!!”

drags himself there like he’s acting out a shakespearean tragedy.

sends you dramatic selfies with captions like "farewell, cruel bedroom."

makes a blanket fort and names it “meguru’s heartbreak castle.”

sings sad songs until you peek out.

“oh look! my favorite person! wanna join my castle of sorrow?”

you roll your eyes but smile, and you end up under the couch fort with him, cuddled up and giggling.

karasu tabito

you say “sleep on the couch” and he just stares at you for a second.

then dramatically clutches his chest like “ouch. my favorite girl just assassinated me.”

“how am i supposed to live, laugh, love in these conditions?”

makes a whole production of walking to the couch. robe on, hood up, slippers squeaking.

literally throws himself on it with a groan. “RIP karasu tabito, died of neglect.”

keeps loudly fake-crying into a pillow like he’s in a telenovela until you yell at him to shut up.

immediately perks up: “you miss me?”

crawls back to bed and goes “thanks babe, i hated that.”

ness alexis

freezes. short-circuits. like you just said the world’s most horrible sentence.

“... the couch?” with puppy eyes.

starts trying to fix things IMMEDIATELY. pulling out tea, snacks, compliments, an apology powerpoint.

“i didn’t mean it like that. you’re always right. even when you’re wrong, you’re right.”

but when he realizes you’re serious, he grabs a pillow and makes a little sad pile on the couch.

“it’s okay… i deserve this…” (said in a sniffly mouse voice).

you check on him and he’s sitting upright, staring into space like he’s been emotionally waterboarded.

you give in after 20 minutes. he doesn’t even smirk, he just clings to you with teary eyes like “never again please.”

otoya eita

“couch? oh baby, you’re kicking me out again? kinky.”

you glare. he holds his hands up, backing off, still grinning.

flops dramatically on the couch with the energy of a rom-com male lead post-breakup.

“what are you gonna do without me over there? miss me? dream of me?”

still manages to flirt from across the apartment. texts you: “thinking about you. and your legs. mostly your legs.”

ends up sweet-talking his way back into bed by whispering apologies and kissing your hand like some tragic prince.

“c’mon, i learned my lesson. also, the couch is bad for my back. and my heart.”

aiku oliver

laughs when you tell him. “damn, you’re really mad, huh?”

goes along with it, but not without a fight.

“you sure you’ll be able to sleep without your personal heater slash bodyguard slash boyfriend?”

turns the living room into a man cave. turns on soccer replays.

but when he realizes you’re actually not coming out, he shuts everything off and just lays there in silence like a sad old man.

eventually walks back in, shirtless, arms crossed: “look. this is stupid. i’d rather be next to you than be right.”

and you’re like “whoa whoa since when are you mature?”

he grins, climbs back in, and mumbles into your neck: “just for you.”

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websterss · 2 days ago

Text

THE WOES OF BOWTIES AND MISSING PUZZLE PIECES — ROBERT REYNOLDS

REQUEST: reemoony asked: loveeee your writing and I hope this request reach you. Can you make Bob and y/n are liking each other but they never say it but everyone is well aware of their feelings. One day Bob having a rough day and void jumps out, creating quite a chaos. She tries to talk him through it but void being void thinking she’s a liability for them, he “consumed” her. Few moments after that he turns back into Bob & other people came back from void but not her. Angsty angsty but with happy ending please. Sorry if this complicated, just change it into what you feel right and easier.

WARNING(S): SPOILERS?? me trauma dumping on page 24 for the plot (google doc verified) ANGST AND MORE ANGST, mentions of toxic relationship, someone dies, Bob needs a hug, and a kiss, and lots of reassurance, and probably therapy, happy ending I swear!! I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this one, folks. I hope I hit everything, this should've been two parts lmfao. I am not responsible for your therapy bills.

WORD COUNT: 18,593 (don't kill me I was on the roll)

PAIRING: Robert Reynolds (Sentry/The Void) x fem!reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! :) Feedback is always welcome! I was truly second-guessing posting this. I’m starting to feel like I don’t have the writing means to handle Bob with such care like some of y'all do.😭 but here we are. This took me a week y’all, ya girls tired <3

MASTERLIST

The evening had come around the corner faster than Bob could grasp. Alexei was making last-minute calls to use their time wisely so that they might show up to the event at a cordial time. He would have if he could get his hair to cooperate with him.

"Knock. Knock." Yelena announces, tapping on Bob's ajar door. He stands in front of the floor-length mirror in the corner of his room. His black tie attire contrasts with the baggy, loose-fitting hoodie and sweats he wears around the place. The fitted tux does nothing to hide his trained physique.

Yelena exclaims with earnestness. "Wow! Look at you!" She's whistling for effect. Impressed by how well he cleaned up. "Do I smell cologne on you, sir?" Her smile grows.

He stood straight, his eyes widening in the mirror as he turned to face her. His gaze softened, taking in her all dolled up and out of her usual tactical gear. The green was different from the black she wore. He thought then and there that she should wear more colorful outfits. He nods once, dipping his chin to nuzzle his nose into the collar. He inhales deeply.

"It's the one you gifted me for my birthday…Thought I’d give it a try…Thanks…You're not so bad yourself. You...You look beautiful." He smiles sheepishly as he spares her another once-over, bashful.

Yelena grins, thoroughly pleased to hear Bob’s compliment. In the best of ways, it was pleasant to have her efforts noticed.

“Why, thank you,” She responds with genuine gratitude. She spins in place, the skirt of her emerald green dress flowing flawlessly with the motion. She sits on the edge of the bed, flopping down, grabbing one of Bob’s pillows to hold onto. “You look good in a suit, bud. Almost ready?"

"Yeah...Yeah, just need to finish up with my hair. That's all. It’s not...responding well to the hairspray you lent me, though." He pulls at a strand. Bob’s hair was relatively problematic. No order, flow, or movement that made sense to the careful eye.

Bob turns back to the mirror. Messing up his hair, parting it to the left, before parting it to the right, trying to maintain its order, but he’s made no progress, thus far.

She smirks, amused by his struggle. "Ah, the woes of getting ready. I should have given you gel; it works miracles better than that stuff. Why don’t I take a look, huh? Maybe I can offer my expertise. We do share the same hairstyle, after all." She rises from the bed, approaches him, and notes the tousled locks that stick out at various angles.

“I don’t wanna take up more of your time…”

“Nonsense.” She motions for him to come here to begin her work. "So….trying to impress anyone?"

Bob glances down at her before focusing back on himself. He tilts his head, feeling the way the suit hugs him. The jacket stops at his waist, not swallowing him whole like his hoodies, which secure him like a blanket. Everything fits justly. He feels exposed. Yelena pauses her movements, watching the uncertainty take over his frown, as though he’s weighing something significant. The tension is all in his shoulders.

"No...not really…Just–trying to make myself look the part." His response was vague, not giving away the reason for his meticulous grooming.

Yelena quirks an eyebrow. She’s perceptive. Nothing gets past her, especially when it comes to her teammates. She hums as she moves behind him, scrutinizing his hair from a new angle. "Really? Just trying to look the part?" She questions, her tone filled with skepticism. She playfully runs her fingers through his hair, testing its resistant nature. "So, you're not trying to impress a special someone? Not even the pretty lady getting ready across the hall from us?"

Bob pauses momentarily, caught off guard by her direct assumption. He turns his head towards her, a slight flush appearing on his cheeks. He can't completely mask his surprise at her astute comment.

"N-No." He shakes his head a bit too quickly.

Yelena smirks, her keen insight confirmed. She can see right through Bob's attempts at nonchalance. His sudden denial made it even more apparent that he was trying to hide his infatuation. There was no hiding behind it though. They all knew.

She steps closer to him, her gaze never wavering. "So you got all dressed up and started messing with your hair for an hour, just for the sake of looking the part?" Yelena cocks her head slightly to one side.

"Yes." He nods his head stubbornly. "Just trying to look the part..." He swallows nervously before he fixes his attention back to his appearance.

Yelena lets out a faint laugh at his repeated insistence. Her eyes narrow playfully; she ruffles spots of hair here and there. She moves over to the other side of him before continuing her touch-ups. "Y'know, Bob..." She starts, her voice low and light. "You're not a very good liar." She places a hand gently on his shoulder, leaning in slightly. “I’ve thought you better than that, sir.”

"I'm sorry…" Bob releases a sigh.

Yelena continues to fiddle with his hair from the new angle. Her touch is gentle. "S’alright… You try to hide it, she tries to hide it. You both are not very good at this thing. But we all see the way you look at each other." She speaks with a soft but knowing tone. As if she's been patiently waiting for him to acknowledge his feelings. "You see her like she’s the quiet that fills the void inside you, all the noise goes out and she’s there, bringing you that peace, and she sees you like you’re the sunrise she’s always been eager to see after she’s been living in the dark her whole life."

Bob laughs, the sound nervous, mixed in with a scoff. He's in denial. "I…I don't know what you're talking about."

Yelena chuckles at this, her smirk growing. "Oh, come on, Bob." She moves around him again, standing before him, her eyes meeting his gaze pointedly. "You think we haven't noticed how your eyes light up whenever she enters a room? She stumbles over her words when you ask her a simple question. Your gross motor skills somehow fail you when you see the tiniest hint of her smile? And she spews weird little facts that no one can make sense of." She shakes her head slightly, amused. "You're in love, as is she, and we can all see it. Last week, you fumbled a book when she spoke to you in the kitchen."

"I slipped..." Bob looked down, shrugging his shoulders, feigning indifference to your past interactions.

"You were sitting down. The book was closed."

Bob begins to teeter back and forth to try to calm himself. "Are…Are you done?" He meets her gaze through the glass. His eyes flitted up to his now messily but organized hairdo. His eyes crinkle at the sight. "It looks the same."

Yelena chuckled, her eyes gleaming. His words felt like a cover, a desperate attempt to deflect from the truth. She playfully patted his shoulder before moving closer, standing directly behind him again. She perched her chin on his shoulder. "You shouldn't fuss so much, you look great. As for your unruly hair, I only messed with it a tiny bit." Yelena pinched her fingers. "Figured some part of yourself should remain true tonight..." Yelena reached up to tousle it for show. "Also, I have it on good authority that a certain birdy has told me she likes it when it resembles a bird's nest." He doesn't miss her wink through the glass.

He still can't help but release his doubts to the widow. The way his self-esteem remains low. “I don’t feel great, Yelena. This…This isn’t me. This suit, my hair, and the nice shoes. It feels like I’m putting on a mask.”

"Bob, listen to me," She says, squeezing his shoulder. "I know it might feel weird. It is a bit weird. You're wearing a fancy suit with your hair slightly combed and shoes that aren't sneakers." She lets out a faint laugh. "But you're not hiding yourself away. Putting yourself into a box approved by Valentina." Yelena gently turns him around to face her. "You're just allowing yourself to be seen in a different light.” She squeezes his shoulder again, reassuringly. "You deserve to feel great about yourself."

"I feel good in sweatpants."

Yelena laughs heartedly this time; she loves how adamant he can be. "We all do." She gives him a light, playful nudge. "But that's not going to fly tonight. You're going to wear the suit, you're going to go out with your friends, have a great time, all while looking good." She grins, her tone light.

"I don't feel good though..."

Yelena senses his unease. She meets his gaze again, her expression serious yet compassionate. "You are incredibly good looking, Bob. You're just not used to feeling that way, seeing yourself in that way. We've all had these moments. Hell, I've had my share," She admitted, her smile briefly fading. She quickly catches herself and tries to uplift the mood again. "It's just one party. How bad can it be?" She nudges him again, this time laying a playful punch to his chest. "Just this once, humor me. Let yourself experience something out of your normal routine." She reaches up to fix a strand playing stubborn. "Also, the little birdie has told me she loves the sight of a man in a crisp suit, too." She nudges him twice with her elbow.

"Okay." He laughs at her incredulous antics and light teasing. A beat passes before his brow furrows. "We have a bird?"

Yelena bursts into laughter at his question. "Oh my god- No." She grabs him on the arm to ground herself. Her voice filled with mirth. “Bob, no. We...We don't have a bird." She shakes her hands and head. "It's just a figure of speech. It means I have inside information. It's- Oh Bob." Yelena's shoulders slump in defeat. Bob offers a timid grin before he laughs lightly with her, finally understanding what she meant.

"Oh right...Y/n’s the bird. I-I get it now." Bob rocks back and forth with a solid nod.

Yelena playfully rolls her eyes but can't help but smile at Bob's delayed reaction. "Yes, she's the bird.”

Bob glances back at his reflection, still weighing his options. "Is it too late to change into my robe?"

Yelena chuckles at his attempt to escape the situation. “Well, you certainly can’t show up to a gala in pajamas. Sorry, buddy. No PJs tonight. You're stuck in the suit until the party's over." She grins at him, her tone playful but filled with determination. "And I'm also eighty-eight percent sure Valentina will kill you if you set foot into the venue looking like you just rolled out of bed, so the tux stays on."

“It wouldn’t be the first time…” He avoids her gaze, his cheeks still dusted with a slight tint, a mixture of embarrassment and reluctance. A bit of his inner turmoil was still cracking through the surface. "I… I should stay home tonight."

Yelena's eyes soften once more as he suggests excluding himself from the event tonight. "No, no. You're going, Bob. Don't even think about backing out now." She steps closer to him, her gaze steady and firm. "You look great! Listen to me; we want you to get out of your robes and that blue sweater you always wear. Take you out for once since you're always here at the tower. Bob, surely you wouldn't want to miss the chance to see how stunning Y/n looks in her evening gown, would you? Gorgeous." She emphasizes.

Bob falls quiet for a moment, contemplating her words. His mind drifts, picturing how you might look all dressed up. Your hair done all nice, maybe some jewelry, nothing too flashy, since you preferred decorating your fingers and ears with simplistic pieces. He can't help but wonder what color might adorn your perfect smile. Red, maybe orange, perhaps that color you told him was called mauve, with your lips lined.

I...I bet you look pretty. He thinks.

Yelena grins, her eyes glinting with satisfaction. She can see the thought of you in his mind, the vivid image of you dressed to the nines igniting a spark in his expression. She catches his brief moment of daydreaming before he catches himself, his gaze snapping away from the pillow to meet hers.

"Bob..." Yelena's voice edges amused.

"I just..." Bob starts, then lets out a frustrated exhale. "I'm not really... I'm not the party type, you know. I always stayed indoors growing up. I never went out much. I never had this. Friends who wanted to be around me. This gala is far from my normal routine. I don’t think letting me go out so soon would be a good idea. It’s been a year. You guys said it yourself, you don't want to risk Void getting out again. You...You guys would be better off going without me. I can stay behind…I don’t mind."

She understands that he harbors doubts and fears about his place among them.

"Bob..." Yelena tilts her head, staring at him pointedly, her voice gentle yet firm. "We aren't keeping you locked up to contain 'Void'. It's not about that. Not anymore." She reaches up to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You're not a ticking time bomb, you never have been. We want you there with us. Even Y/n, alright? If it puts your mind at ease, even for just one second. She was the one who suggested we bring you along with us. Not because we feel it’s our obligation, and no one can watch you. But because we genuinely want to see you out of this place, cleaned up! We don't want to see you holed up in this tower forever, okay?"

Bob's heart skips at the mention of you wanting him there, too. He fidgets momentarily, avoiding eye contact by looking down at his shoes. The polished shine on them reminded him that he could have these things now. The privilege of owning nice things.

Nice things never last long. In his life at least.

“Okay…” His mind whirls with the never-ending feeling of being a bother and a burden. He's hesitant, torn between his desire to attend and his habitual tendency to keep to himself. He bites his lip, the urge to decline the invitation was tempting against the subtle want of not wanting to be stuck at the tower��alone. "I just..." His hands lingers over his naked collar.

Her voice is gentle with a hint of encouragement. “You what, Bob?” She waits for him to verbalize his concerns; she’s patient.

"No...It's stupid." He brushes it off with a laugh.

"No, say it!" She encourages.

"No. I should stay home-"

"Bob, tell me." Yelena dipped her head to meet his eyes. He gives in after a moment.

"...I don't know how to put a tie on." He laments, lamely gesturing to the fabric he had tossed on his bed moments earlier, having given up on trying to do it himself. His father was absent from teaching him how to put one one. He never did get to bond over a silly thing, such as a tie with him. The rite of passage, or whatever they call it. The transition into becoming a man, knowing how to tie one yourself.

Yelena chuckles softly at his confession, her amusement tinged with empathy. Her eyes flicker towards the abandoned tie on the bed.

"Oh, Bob..." She gently pats his shoulder this time. "Don't worry; we can sort it out, alright." She takes his hand and guides him to sit on the edge of the bed. She picks up the tie, draping it around his neck. "You know... You could have just asked me." She says gently, wrapping the tie around his neck.

"You already helped with my hair." He shakes his head.

Yelena playfully rolls her eyes at his stubbornness, carefully ensuring one end is slightly longer. This difference would account for the tie’s eventual knot later. Yelena crossed the longer end over the shorter one, then pulled it under the shorter end and through the loop around Bob's neck. She continued folding the shorter end at the widest part to create a bow shape.

"Yes, but that's no excuse. You could have asked. Nothing wrong with asking for more help." With the bow shape firmly in place, she brought the longer end directly over it. Pinching the bow shape and the longer end together, carefully threading the longer end through a loop she had opened in the back of the bow. She then pulled both ends to tighten them in place.

"See? Sorted out." She pats his chest, stepping back to look over her handiwork and adjusting the fabric until she is satisfied with how it sits at his neck.

"Thanks...I was never taught how." Bob trails off, not wanting to bring forth thoughts of his father. They were never pleasant.

She notices the hint of melancholy in his voice upon mentioning not being able to put on a tie, but she chooses to move past it, not wanting to dampen the moment. Instead, she pats his chest once more, grinning. "Don't worry, Alexei doesn’t either." She winks at him once more.

He nods out of curiosity before he even registers what he's asking. "Does…Does Y/n know how to tie a tie?"

Yelena raises her eyebrow at his question. She tries to hide a smirk, realizing where his mind is currently at. "Hmm...You know, I'm not entirely sure. But..." She pauses, enjoying the moment. "If I had to guess, I'd bet she would. She's got an endless amount of skills hidden beneath the surface. Surely tying ties is a secret she has, wouldn’t hurt to ask her about it."

"I-I wouldn't put it past her…She's great at everything." His admiration was not lost on her.

"That she is..." Yelena smirks. “You should tell her you know. That you’re in love with her.” She nudges his foot with her heel.

He wrings his hands together, leaning onto his elbows placed on his knees. As tempting as it sounds, he wouldn't be able to gain the confidence to execute it. Confessing to you how he felt. The feelings he harbored. "No…It’s better this way. If I keep it to myself."

Yelena's expression softens at his reluctance. She sits next to him, considering his words. "Bob, listen to me. Life…it’s too short to keep something like that to yourself. I've seen you around her, the way your worries fade. That sense of security that she brings you. That you bring to her. It’s all in the risk worth taking." Yelena continues, choosing her words with care. "Don't let fear keep you from telling her how you feel. You'll never know what might happen if you don’t take that chance."

He meets her gaze. His locks falling over his eyes, hiding him. "What if I mess it all up?”

“I don’t think you could.”

“And if I do…I don’t want to hurt Y/n.”

“Relationships get messy, Bob, it’s part of growing together. Do you think we’d be here today, as the new avengers if we continued to butt heads every time?”

“No…”

“You have nothing to lose.” Yelena encourages. “Trust me. Just be yourself. Tell her how you feel, and before it’s too late, alright.”

“I'll think about it…" Bob stands up as Alexei's voice rings out from the hall, indicating it was time to head out. With a sigh, Bob steps out of the door frame, ready to face whatever the evening has in store.

Bob had a completely different idea about how the night would go. Surely, there would have been busybodies intrigued by his presence and would approach him. Possibly ask him about his powers, his involvement, and what he brought to the table, but that was not the case as he continued to stand in the corner of the venue. Alone. His hands were messing with his cuff links to help pass the time. He raised his hand occasionally, sparing a timid greeting to the passersby who gave him a side eye. He wasn’t aware how much of a wallflower he was being, but he was nonetheless immune to the judgeful stares. He might've guessed that his longing gaze also made people whisper and gesture towards him. The fact that he was staring in one particular direction caught everyone’s curiosity.

He was looking at you, mingling and laughing with people he didn’t know. He couldn’t stop staring at you since you met the group in the living room. Yelena wasn’t lying when she said you looked gorgeous.

It felt like time itself stopped and nothing else moved, nor mattered, except you. Walker didn’t fight the shit eating grin on his face when he heard Bob’s sharp intake. The kid was so far gone that he had to nudge the man after you had complimented his appearance.

“And here I thought you were reluctant to go out with us. You look good.” Your sweet grin was making him visibly malfunction. You gave a nervous laugh, looking down as the minutes passed without him saying anything. Heat warms your cheeks. “Did I say something wrong?” Your eyes crinkle with embarrassment.

“No, he–“

“–Oh!” Bob stumbles to the right from Walker’s nudge. “T-Thank you! You don’t look nice- No you do! You look nice…I meant to say you look nice. You’re beautiful…You look beautiful!” Bob grows flustered. “T-Thank you.”

“Geezus.” Walker scoffed, walking away from you both.

“You know you can take your eyes off her for a second, right? She’ll still be there, I promise.” Bucky comes up to him from his peripheral vision. Bob’s face flushed with embarrassment, having been caught. He dips his chin before he locks eyes with the soldier. “Here.” He offers a rounded glass—a golden liquid swirling in its confinement.

“Thanks…” He carefully encircles his hand around the glass and takes a sip. A loud cough erupts from his chest, making him lean over. Bucky chuckles briefly before helping him back upright and patting his chest.

“Scotch on the rocks. Thought you could use some liquid courage. Get some hair on your chest.” Bucky pulls away. Bob watches as the man’s eyes avert, inspecting the room. He blended in well, unlike himself. No one looks twice at Bucky. No one suspects him of anything bad.

“F-For what?” Bob cleared his throat, trying to get over the burn.

“You’re gonna ask her to dance.” Bucky declares.

“I’m…I’m what?” Bob whips his head to peer at him. Then, back to you, you hit a man with your hand across his chest, throwing your head back. How could he ask you to dance when you looked to have been having a swell time across the room?

“Gentlemen…What are we talking about over here?” Walker chimes over. A hand in his pocket, a rounded glass tucked into his palm, faced down.

“I told Bob here to go ask Y/n to dance.”

“No wait- I wasn’t-“ He protests.

“Ha– That I want to see. Do you even know how to dance? Can you dance?”

“Well, no… I can do the Charlie Brown in the cha-cha slide though…”

“You don’t say…” Walker closes his mouth. He shakes his head at Bob’s enthusiastic confirmation. “Maybe teach the kid a step…or two.” Walker lifts his drink to his lips. Bucky pats Bob comfortably against his back, his chin face down, embarrassed that he admitted his lack of dance skills. “Before he asks her.”

“I should’ve stayed home…” Bob muttered to himself.

“No you shouldn’t have. You just need a wingman.”

“A wingman?” Bob’s brows crease.

“Yeah, someone who can help you get the girl. That gives you advice on how to look good in front of her.” Bucky's words cause Bob to look down at himself.

“What more could I do to look okay? Y-Yelena already helped me do my hair and tie.”

“This will have nothing to do with your appearance. You already got the face and the build, kid, don’t worry about that. I just meant more of teaching you how to hold yourself confidently and how you speak to a woman.”

“But Yelena told me to just be my-“

“Forget everything Yelena has told you. Let us help you, alright.” Walker butts in. Bob wrings his hands, he wasn’t too sure about the whole ordeal. Yelena told him to take the chance, to tell you how he felt before it was too late, to be himself, because that’s who you were drawn to. Now the guys were telling him he had to work on himself, on their way to giving him tips on how to bring out his confidence, it didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know…I wanted to do it on my own terms. N-Not right now…She’s busy.”

“She’s networking.”

“I don’t want to pull her away to tell her how I feel…” The idea felt selfish. He didn’t want to be the one to tamper your fun night.

“Trust me, kid. You’d be doing her a favor. She’s miserable.” Bob turns, inspecting your joyous body language. If your discontent looked like you were happy, then so was he.

“Maybe we should wait-“

“Oh.” Walker draws their attention. Bob turns to him before looking back at you. “Trouble in paradise.” Walker quips, gesturing to the new fellow that caught their attention. Your smile disappears when you turn around to face the hand that tapped your shoulder.

“Who’s that?” Bob glances back at the troubled expression of his teammates. He rocks back and forth on his heels. Nervously waiting to know of the man, who brought you displeasure from what he could tell. He watches you shake your head no, turning and walking away from him and the group you mingled with. An unsettling torment rumbles in his chest, when the guy grabs your upper forearm, halting your retreat.

You quickly turn your head around; a quiet disagreement begins. A few other guests glance over at you both.

"Sadly that is Y/n's former partner. His name is Ryker Stride.” Bucky reveals the information about your ex-boyfriend that you failed to talk about. To him at least.

"I had no idea she was with someone…" Despite the fact that he didn't look like your ex, Bob couldn't help but let his wandering thoughts get the better of him. He felt insignificant compared to how Ryker held himself.

“They weren’t together for long, they hit month six before she ended things with him.”

“Is it ‘cause he’s an asshole?” He didn’t like the way he grabbed you. You pulled your hand back, before you walked away, Turning a corner out of sight.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky sighed. Walker watched the scene unfold, before an idea struck him.

“Go save her.” Walker urges, noticing Ryker following after you.

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter. Go!” Walker nudged him a few steps forward, but Bob only shakes his head.

“I-I don’t think it's a good idea…Walker, Yelena told me to not get into trouble before she left me here. I-“

“Oh my god! It’s not like you’re gonna kill the dude, you're just gonna follow them, make sure she’s okay. And if he so much lays a hand on her, then you slightly intervene, use a bit of that strength of yours to show him you don’t mess around when it comes to her. It’s completely harmless dominance. Show how much of a gentleman you are. Trust me, she’ll be kissing you by midnight, you’ll thank me later. Promise.“ Walker steps up to him, pats him on the chest.

“I don’t know…I think we should get Yelena. Get her opinion on this.” He reels into himself, not believing he could carry it all out. He was a gentleman, he thought so, so did Yelena and you, why would possibly getting a man’s hands off you further highlight the fact he’d never do such a thing as lay a hand on a woman. It felt risky…but was this the risk Yelena encouraged him to take things with you further?

“I think it could work.” Now Bucky, mauled it over.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone. It’s risky…” Bob kept insisting.

“No. It’s not. You should go save her.” Walker persisted. “This is your chance and you’re seriously not gonna take it?” He scoffs. “If you’re not gonna do it, then I will. The guy’s a prick anyway.”

Bob couldn’t believe what he was hearing. First, the guys suggested he should ask you to dance, and now they want him to barge in like some knight in shining armor? Did they seriously expect him to just waltz over to you, interrupt your conversation with your ex, and play the hero? But what really caught him off guard was the fact that he actually considered it. Sure, he didn't think much of your ex when he saw his hand on you, but to intervene?

Walker and Bucky continue to implore him, emphasizing the importance of this moment. Telling him to man up. He knew this was the opportunity to act, but as usual, his nerves get a hold of him. With a hesitant look at the super soldiers, he nods once and moves with small steps in the direction he saw you go.

Bob felt nervous when he came to a stop around the corner. Your anger evident with every grit of your teeth. It was daunting to see you so worked up. His brows furrow as he saw Ryker hold you in the exact same position.

You wished you hadn’t walked away from the crowd. Crowds kept you safe, they granted you witnesses if something were to happen to you. Much like so.

"Let go." You grit your teeth at the man preventing your exit.

"Let's talk about this-"

"There's nothing to talk about. I gave you your answer. I ended things with you for this exact reason. Your aggressive, abusive, and right now a real pain in my ass. If you can't be a grown-up about it, that's a personal issue. Not mine. Let go." Your voice lowers, firm in your conviction.

“No come on, give me a chance to explain myself. I told you I was going to work on myself-”

"Ryker if you don't take your goddamn hand off me so help me-"

Bob was torn from the sidelines. He understood it wasn’t his place to interfere, but his heart began to beat faster as the conversation between you and your ex grew more heated. He clenched and unclenched his hands, taking a few steps towards the altercation. He had to say something, but he also didn’t have a clue how to approach.

"She...She said let her go." A dark, low rumble emits behind you. The rasp in Bob's voice usually sent a tingling sensation down your spine, but upon seeing how intensely he glared at your ex, and the way his shoulders curled in around himself. It did nothing but give you goosebumps. Bob's gaze settled on his hand, the one currently leaving impressions of his fingers on your skin. Your gaze stays on him as you catch a flicker of amber in his eyes. No.

"She said, let go." Bob’s gestures with a pointed finger. A nervous laugh emits past his lips. It does nothing to ease the tension.

Ryker's hold on you tightens at Bob's words. The defiance in the man's demeanor only fueled his determination to maintain his grip. "Mind your business, freak. This doesn't concern you."

Your heart hammers as Bob’s eyes go full gold. “She said let go…”

You turn back to the stubborn fool with cogs and nuts for brains. "Ryker, let go of me now." You push against his hand, which doesn't let up at all. "Terco! Suéltame!" You curse at him. "You have a death wish. Surely, that’s the case!" You feign sudden revelation to his unrelenting grip. You shove against his chest, before looking back at Bob, exclaiming frantically. "Bob, I'm fine. Go find Yelena!"

"He's bruising you..." His gaze was unmoving from Ryker's grip. “He shouldn’t be hurting you.”

Bob steps to move closer, but your desperate attempt to keep him away from the impending situation stops him in place. His gaze flicks rapidly between Ryker’s tight hand on you and the sight of your growing distress.

"Bob, it's fine!" You curse under your breath, as you try to hide the pain you begin feeling, etching your features. "Ryker!" A disheartened chuckle slips past your lips, but it's not joyous. Bob didn't misplace your whine. "You're drunk, go home. You're making things worse-"

Ryker's grip on you persisted, his drunken state only fueling his stubbornness even more so. He ignored your attempt to diffuse the situation; a scoff left him. "The only one making things worse is this pri—" His words were slurred and then interrupted. Bob stuck a hand out before Ryker's grip lifted off of you, and then he flew towards Bob.

Bob didn't hesitate to grip the intoxicated man's neck.

"You were saying?" Bob's raspy growl was not missed.

Ryker croaks, his airway being cut off by Bob's hand around his throat. He tries to form words, but only a strangled gasp leaves him.

"Bob..." You step closer to them. His cerulean eyes meet yours, and a speck of hope fills you, thinking he's not far from being helped. "Bob, can we talk about this?"

His grip doesn't loosen on the guy. Bob's eyes are locked onto yours for a split second before returning to Ryker, the grip on his neck more harsh than what is necessary. His demeanor had changed; his usually soft-spoken words and timidness were gone. He stands straight, shoulders squared. A subtle but commanding aura emanated from him. He was losing an eternal fight that the eye couldn't see, but you saw the signs. His lack of empathy, dissolving, a rugged exterior slamming down like a shutdown protocol. You didn't like the man who wanted to take over.

"Bob?" Your heels click softly with each approaching step. "Listen I know Ryker's a piece of shit okay. It's why I broke up with him..." You put your hands out to show him you mean no harm. "I thought I wanted him gone at one point in my life too, but contemplating about the asshole in such a way didn't feel worth it anymore." Ryker pays you a glare. "Bob, he doesn't deserve one second of your time." Bob clenches his jaw as he peers down at your darkened marks. He twitches as he tries to think through his inner turmoil.

"No, no. He shouldn't have hurt you. He put his hands on you." Bob's voice cracks. "I don't like it when people hurt you..."

"Yeah, well, people do stupid things when they're drunk. He's an idiot." You give Bob a pained smile. "I'm fine. Nothing serious." He still had Ryker in his grip. The man was turning red.

"He-He deserves it." With one final tightening of his grip, Ryker falls limp. You barely register the crack, surely his neck. The sound haunts you as the hairs on your arms rise again.

You watch as Bob releases Ryker. The man flops to the ground, unmoving. Your heart picks up as you realize what he's done. Your eyes go wide before you swallow the lump in your throat. "Bob, you...Did you-"

Bob's gaze was locked on Ryker's unconscious form, and he finally turned to look at you, noticing you had backed up. A flicker of realisation passes across his expression at your reaction and withdrawal. Bob's gaze remains steady, his eyes devoid of the softness you're used to, replaced by something else. Hatred.

"He had it coming." Bob's tone is firm, his voice still hinting at his usual timidness, but tinged with a hardened edge. "He hurt you. What gives him the right to do that to you? To anyone? I did him a favor." He nods more to himself.

"You didn't need to kill him."

Bob's gaze intensifies as he keeps your gaze, the look unyielding. The gold in his eyes is more prominent now. The tension was dense, the moment hanging in the air, thick like fog. "He deserved it." Bob's tone, confident and cold. No remorse. "He hurt you."

"Oh my god…No it wasn’t necessary.." You release a sigh.. "H-He just held my wrist."

Bob's eyes narrow. He scoffs in disbelief. "And you were wincing, were you not?" He steps closer to you, closing the distance. You never liked his gold eyes. Not when he was looming over you.

You hold your head high, trying not to let your gaze waver from his intimidation. "I'm fine. Killing shouldn't have been your first choice. It never should result in death unless the situation requires it. I could have knocked him out, Bob..."

"Maybe you're too kind." The intensity in his gaze was unbroken. "Sometimes, people like him don't understand anything but violence."

"I don't think you do either..." You wished you could have taken it back the second the words fell past your lips. "I didn't mean that-" You close your eyes. Regret hitting you.

Bob recoils at your words, flinching as though you hit him. "I think you did." His gaze sharpens, hurt and confusion flashing across his features.

"No." You insist.

The intensity in his gaze doesn't let up, even as you try to retract your statement. "No. You did mean it." His tone is stern. Grim. It cuts through the air like a knife. "You think I'm as violent as him, is that it?"

You only keep shaking your head, even as he corners you against an adjacent wall. "No. I think-"

The weight of his body is imposing, shadows slowly casting over him starting from his shoes as he corrals you into the wall. His hands find the space beside your head, trapping you in as he leans in close, his voice low and sharp. “Why shouldn't I use my full potential, especially when a damsel is distressed? I'm strong, so why wouldn't I try to help someone in need? Though I'm starting to think this damsel wasn't worth the time or energy anymore. Since she's yet to thank me. I came here to save you from that asshole.”

Your lip trembles as you reach for your gun. You act fast on impulse. Switching the safety off your weapon with precision and speed before a shot rings out. Surely someone's heard it go off.

Bob's reaction was instantaneous as pure adrenaline surged through his veins. He acted on instinct, seizing your wrist in a firm grip. He holds your gun-wielding hand steady. The weapon was aimed at a spot just past his right ear. His voice is eerily calm. “You missed.”

Your outcry was real this time as the gun slipped out of your hand. Out of reach now. Bob held your wrist, much like Ryker had. Only this grip was severely cruel, whereas Ryker's was bruising you, Bob could easily break your wrist with slightly more pressure applied. "Y-You're hurting me-" You shove against his chest. He was unfazed by your attempts.

"And you were going to shoot me....God, why do we even keep you around?" Your eyes widen as the shadows reach up to his torso.

"'Cause I'm one of you..." You arguably strain.

He doesn't allow himself to give in to your words; he doesn't soften or falter. You press the left side of your face into the wall as he sneers and breaths heavily into your cheek. "You sure about that?" His tone was condescending. He pulls you into his chest, dragging you away before you know it.

A yell breaks out when you're thrown across the venue’s dance floor. Your body hits the ground roughly, sending you rolling before you stop face down into the ground. You lay there trying to gather your bearings.

He threw me! Your thoughts alert you.

"T-That hurt..." You mutter to yourself as you take note of the crowd, stepping back and away from the center. Separating a path as Bob, halfway transformed into Void, approaches with steady, slow footsteps.

"Y/n!" Yelena makes for you, but you shake your head.

"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. Your face fell when you noticed them reach for specific spots on their attire. Weapons. Hidden from wandering gazes. Had they anticipated this to happen? "Stay back!" You warn, pushing off the ground with shaken legs. Your chest rises and falls heavily, trying to push through the pain of being thrown like a rag doll.

"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.

Bob's eyes remained fixed. Golden. The shadow within him, consuming his being. His expression was almost feral. He stops in front of you. He had no hesitation and no mercy. No, not for you. No more.

Bob watches you stumble forward with an unsettling lack of regard. Even though he had been rougher with you than he'd like, his demeanor didn't soften. He begins stepping towards you. "You're a drawback." His tone is harsh, lacking the usual warmth he holds towards you.

Your head falls into your shoulder, defeated and solemn, as Bob's demeanor doesn’t change. Black overshadows his delicate features. He is no longer the timid and awkward man you thought you knew. Now, he is Void—a twisted, broken force to be reckoned with. The two white dots for eyes stare back at you hauntingly.

No trace of warmth or familiarity in his eyes. Just a tormenting, head tilt directed at your vulnerable state. "A liability." His head tilts to the other side now.

Yelena steps closer to you. A hand was held out in front of her, ready to shove you behind her. She was all too familiar with the Void's dislike for you. He hadn't been too kind to you in your shame rooms. Giving you hell the most when the group rejoined in the attic. He hated you, hated how you made things quiet for Bob. You provided a sense of comfort and a safeguard for him to fall back on. Void wanted you gone. Now more so than ever.

"Bob?" Yelena gives it a go before she reaches for you.

Instantly, you're yanked by your wrist, slamming into his chest, forcing you to meet his menacing stare. You watch his wickened grin grace you, the white dots for his eyes reflecting the sliver of hope within him. Barely there.

"No!"

"Let her go!"

"Bob, let her go!"

"Bob, if you can hear me. Stop this!"

Multiple safety clicks are echoed all around the room. You turn briefly, locking eyes with Ava, Yelena, and Walker, directing their pistols' ends towards the shadow man. Bucky is on standby with his weapon of choice. You lock eyes with him, shaking your head. Their hesitance to shoot is noticeably painful.

"You can't be trusted." Void continues speaking slowly, calculatingly, each word falling heavy and deliberate, as the shadows consume you from your heels. "You act impulsively based on your emotions. You're a waste of time. You're only making him weaker."

The shadows wrap around your ankles, coiling around them, consuming them in darkness. You feel the shadows creep up your legs, snaking their way up your body, now to the halfway point of your waist. It didn't take a genius to know what was happening. "Then get it over with already..."

He chuckles darkly before you see your friends and various guests begin being turned into shadows. Void's gaze flickers around the room. People start to scream and flee, while others begin to try to fight back. He remains unfazed by the panic as he lifts you to his eye level, the shadows reaching your chest now. "You don't matter...you never will." You release a gasp, your eyes closing as the shadows curl over your head like a hoodie. Then your body's gone from his grasp. No shadow in sight.

Bob sat up, startled. His eyes snapped open, his breathing heavy and ragged as he shook his head and ran frantic fingers through his now messy curls. His heart raced in his chest. "What..." He muttered, trying to shake the remnants of the horrid nightmare from his mind.

"Bob?" He whips his head up fast, causing him a sudden dizzy spell, before he locks eyes with Yelena on the ground. He begins to register not only her disheveled state but also various other bodies, sitting up from the ground as well.

"What the hell..." Ava curses as she goes to stand. Yelena followed suit, as shadows started to disperse from each figure that had stood in the room a while ago.

"What happened here?" Bob, nervous, stood up, trying to find his bearings.

"Great, you don't remember."

Bob's confusion grows as he takes in the sight of everyone around him. He rubs his temples, trying to make sense of what's happening. "I...I don't know..." He shakes his head, feeling dazed and disoriented. "I was... dreaming, I think. It was a nightmare. But, I can't remember much."

"It's fine, Bob." Yelena waves him off.

Bob rubs his hands over his face, trying to shake off the remnants of his nightmare. The group is gathered in the venue, their surroundings in disarray. Chairs toppled, tables were knocked over, and the floor was littered with shattered glass. "What happened here?" He asks again, taking in the state of the room.

"Void." Bucky sighed.

Bob's heart sinks at the mention of Void. He knew all too well the damage and chaos the other guy brought with him. "Void did this?"

"Yeah..." Walker nods. "But from the looks of it, you only maintained it here, so I call progress." Bob was lost.

"I did? I don't remember anything. I only remember seeing Y/n talking to that Ryker guy, before everything got fuzzy again."

The mention of your name had them freezing. Yelena looked to him before her body swirled around in search of you. Yelena's eyes widen with realization.

"Y/n... Where's Y/n?" The room falls silent as they begin to realize the absence of your presence in the venue.

"What's with the long faces?" Bob wrings his hands together, not understanding the concerned glances everyone threw his way. He turns his head like they do, eyes darting around, falling onto multiple strange faces, searching but never really finding what they looked for. "What's wrong?... Where's Y/n?" His body tenses, dread seeping in.

"What do you mean, where is she?" Yelena's heart plunges. "Bob?" She inched closer, trying to get a read on him. "D-Do you remember anything?"

"No, I told you all that I know. I saw Ryker with Y/n before everything got dark." Bob glanced over to Walker and Ava's hardened gazes. He curled in on himself. He didn't need to be a genius to know something was wrong and that he was at fault. "W-What do you mean? Where is she?"

"Alright, kid, quit messing around. Where'd she go? We all came back, so why didn't she?" Walker rolled his eyes, not in the mood for his oblivious antics. "Where is she, Bob?"

"I-I don't know where Y/n is? What did I do?" Bob frantically shrugs his shoulders.

"No." Dread fell over Yelena's face. "No, no, no." Yelena cupped her stomach.

Bob noticed Yelena's expression, confusion etched on his face, "W-What's going on? What did I do?"

The group looked at him in pity, their faces riddled with worry, fear, and confusion—all except Bucky, who remained silent and stoic. Everyone waited for Yelena to speak. Yelena's voice was shaky, her words softly spoken.

"You didn't do anything." Yelena's eyes started to water, her body trembling. "No..." She looked around the room once more. Nothing. "Okay...Okay. How do we get her back?" She highlighted.

"Get her back?" Bob shook his head.

"You're asking us?" Bucky pointed to himself. "How would we know?" He perplexes.

"I...I don't know!" Yelena's breathing grew ragged, on the verge of tears. She blew raspberries. "She can't be gone...we all came back, there's that!"

"Yeah, but she didn't." Walker voiced everyone's dread. His tone grew sharp and impatient. He pointed to Bob, "Why is that Bob? Why didn't she return like the rest of us?"

"Surely there's some reasonable explanation for this-" Ava tried leveling the situation.

Bob's expression turned somber, his eyes darting to each person searching for an answer. He stuttered, "I...I don't know why. I swear, I don't know. I...I'd never ever hurt her, I promise. I'd never hurt her."

Yelena's voice was shaky, her words barely above a whisper. "We know you wouldn't, but she's gone. Maybe still in the Void, and we need to get her back."

"The question is how, though?" Walker queried.

Yelena shrugged, her eyes reddened and puffy. "I got nothing...." Everyone remained quiet.

Bob wrung his hands together before a suggestion conjured up in his mind. "W-What if you knock me out?"

The group froze, all turning to look at him in disbelief.

"What?" Yelena furrowed her brows, confused by his reasoning.

Ava chimes in, disagreeing. "That doesn't even sound plausible."

Walker let out a scoff. "Knock you out? Are you out of your mind? What good would that do for us?"

"We risk the Void escaping again!" Alexei voiced his concern. "It is a no from me!"

"Sorry, it was just an idea. I thought it could work- Sorry." Bob shakes his head, letting his head fall to the ground again. Bucky, the more level-headed of the group, weighs the idea before speaking.

"Bob..." Bucky steps forward, his gaze fixed on the distressed male. "What do you mean by that? Why do you suggest that we knock you out?"

A spark of hope ignites behind his eyes. Someone's taking a chance on his idea. Bob nods before saying, "Maybe if you guys knock me out. I could find her...in here." He peers up through his lashes at the soldier, gesturing to his temple. "It was just an idea..."

Bucky's gaze remains locked on Bob, contemplating his proposal. Yelena moves from her spot, placing her hand on Bucky's arm. "Bucky, you can't be serious."

"You got a better plan… We don't have anything to go from. It's better than nothing. It could work..." Bucky shrugs at Bob, who straightens. Bob stares at Bucky, surprised that he was on board with it. He turned to the others, waiting for their opinions.

"But how can you know for certain... that it will work?" Yelena counters.

"It's a stupid idea," Ava mutters, shaking her head.

"Alright, how hard do I have to hit him?" Walker begins removing his blazer, rolling his white dress shirt up to his elbows.

"Woah woah woah! Let's think this through, there are other ways we can do this!" Yelena cuts in frantically.

"She's right, punching him won't phase him."

"Then how the hell are we supposed to knock him out?" Walker complained.

"You could..." Bob swallowed back a lump. "You could choke me..."

Ava whips her head over to Walker's baffled gaze. She nudges him with a shit eating grin. "Choke him!" She urges.

Bucky places his hands on his hips, and a heavy sigh leaves him. "You sure about this, Bob?"

A mixture of nervousness and determination washes over Bob's face. Bob nods, trying to seem brave. "Yeah...I'm sure. I have to try…For her. I wouldn't be able to live with myself, you know?" He lets out a faint laugh, but his smile only lasts a few seconds.

A grimace is on Yelena's face as she watches the scene begin to unfold. Bucky places a firm hand on Bob's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Don’t kill him, Walker. Do it quickly, just enough to make him unconscious. Got it?”

Walker shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this." He approaches Bob, hesitant about his decision. He grabs Bob’s forearm before making him turn around. His back now faces him. "Sorry in advance, kid..." Walker swallows hard before he wraps his arms around Bob’s shoulders. It's not long before his arms tighten around his neck. Bob protests, raising his hands to where Walker's hold reduces his oxygen. He knew he had to give in, for your sake, but he'd be lying if he said the whole plan was terrifying.

Bob tries to resist even as he meets Yelena's pained expression. Bucky's head turns away so as not to look, but he thinks twice before looking back, to be there as his source of comfort as he starts tapping against Walker’s arms.

"You'll be fine, kid. Just relax, alright? Don’t fight it." Bucky tries to reassure him. Bob feels the pressure build up in his head and lets out a gasp before he nods. His eyes flicker back and forth between gold and blue. His throat feels like it's being crushed, not the most pleasant thing he's experienced, but what's worse is the way Yelena is watching him. Not at all okay with this. She never liked seeing him hurt.

His eyes meet Yelena's, and her eyes are filled with dread. He manages to mouth his words with a weak smile. I’ll. Find. Her.

Bob's eyes start fluttering. His expression starts drooping as he's on the verge of passing out.

The world blurs as he starts to feel the rush; his head starts pounding. Then his surroundings turn dark. The pressure becomes too intense, and he goes limp. His body falls into Walker’s arms. Walker sighs, letting his arms unravel from his neck before he walks backwards, gently laying the man on the floor. He stays crouched next to him, hating this more than anything. “Now what?”

"We wait." Yelena chimes in solemnly. Grabbing a discarded chair, planting it before her unconscious friend, and plopping herself down on it. “And hope this work.”

Bob didn’t know how long he had been roaming through his shame rooms before a particular doorway appeared. The brown door, sticking out like a sore thumb from the white walls of his childhood home, his shame room, where his dad was screaming at him, asking him where he was going. He gave his father one more glance before he rushed towards it. Opening and slamming it shut behind it. But as he put his force behind the shove. The door itself caught on the doorframe. He tried again, but it wouldn’t budge, leaving behind the hope that it would close, but a thin space between the doorframe and the door prevented its enclosure.

“It doesn’t close…The floor is sunken there.” A high-pitched voice raises the hairs on the back of his neck. He pushes himself from the door before he swivels in place. A small child greets him on the floor.

"Y/n?" Bob inched closer to what he presumed to be your younger self. You were donning a pink and purple sweater, a sequined puppy plastered on the front of it. A few sequins turned over like you had run your hand across them. Black leggings worn out and fuzzy purple socks on your feet. A mirror of your adolescence.

Your younger self looks up as he approachs. He met her gaze before she pointed to the other end of the room. “She’s over there.”

He swiveled around, scoping the room's entirety, until his gaze settled on his goal. His search concluded as he saw you curled underneath a desk. His shoulders slumped at the sight. Your face was dazed, staring straight ahead. Eyes barely blinking. You, too, donned the puppy sweater and leggings. Different from your dress, which you looked lovely in tonight.

You hadn't even bothered to acknowledge his presence as your younger self kept trying to build a puzzle laid out before her. An image of a snowman, in a forest surrounded by trees. A few pieces were chipped, and one, unbeknownst to him, was missing, lost, meaning you'd never fully complete it over the years of trying to, in this room.

"Y-Y/n." He reveled in saying your name out loud.

"I don't want to talk to anyone." Bob turned to look back at the child, placing another piece in its correct spot.

Bob crouched down to be eye level with you under the desk. He held his breath, waiting for any sort of reaction. For a flash of recognition, but there was nothing. No response.

"I-I didn't mean for you to be trapped in here." His voice shook.

Bob's expression twisted into one of deep regret. He reached out to touch your knee but stopped himself, his hand hovering a few inches above as it trembled. His gaze flitted to your younger self. She seemed focused on the puzzle piece in her hand, utterly oblivious to his internal torment. The sight only intensified his agony.

"I–" He opened his mouth to reply, perhaps to reassure you, but no words were forthcoming. "C-Can I join you?" Bob fell back on his bottom and gestured gently to the center. Your younger self looked up.

"Sure." She barely peers up at him, unbothered by his request, but holds out a piece to include him all same.

Bob accepts the piece, his fingers lightly brushing against hers as he takes it. He turns it over in his grasp, examining the surface of it before looking back at the puzzle. He slides his piece into place, his movements careful but precise, ensuring a perfect fit.

"Thanks." He murmurs, his gaze drifting back to your younger self. He swallows hard, his jaw clenching as if chewing on words he couldn’t quite muster. He lets something out for now. "I've never been good at these..." Bob confesses, "Could never finish them. Sit still."

"It's okay...We've never finished this one, but we keep trying to." The child's disheartened smile makes him want to break down.

Bob nods curtly, his throat tight. The sight of your indifference nearly unravels him. He turns his attention back to the puzzle, trying to ground himself in its simple but comforting task. He picks up another piece, turns it over.

"I’m... I can't-" Bob stops short, clearing his throat as it threatened to close up. He tries again. "I can't believe I did this to you." He whispers, more to himself than anything. "I wish I had more control over my powers. I could have saved you the pain."

"We're not mad at you for it. We promise." Your younger self reassures. Handing him another piece after placing another perfect fit down.

Bob's breath hitches in his chest. Your reassurance is like a balm to his wounded soul. Hearing those simple words from you, from her, eases some of the guilt that has been consuming him. He accepts another piece from you, gently placing it into the puzzle again.

"You… You should be." He mutters, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. "I put you in here." His gaze flicks back to her face, taking in her innocence, how calm she remains. It's infuriating. Why are you not raging at him? Shouting? He deserves it.

"The Void put us here." You corrected him. "What's being upset over it gonna accomplish?" Your younger self hovers her hand over a certain area; uncertainty flashes behind her eyes. You're hesitant. Bob, conflicted, reaches forward and guides her small hand over to a spot he thinks it will fit. It does. "Thanks." She’s appreciative before enthusiastically grabbing another, ready to advance in the puzzle's completion.

Bob's heart clenches as you respond rationally. It's eerily shocking how mature you are for your age. The way you forgive so easily is at odds with the guilt he feels. Yet, somehow, your words have an undeniable power over him. He can feel the grip of the Void's hold on him loosen ever so slightly. He helps you slide in the next piece as it clicks into place. Your giggle warms his heart. The corners of his lips curl up at the sound.

"How can…. How can you be so calm about this?" Bob can't help but ask, his voice tinged with disbelief mixed with awe.

"I-I have to..." Your younger self falters. Her composure glitched before she blinked and continued as if nothing had happened. She avoided his gaze, looking back down at the puzzle. "We have to be. Otherwise, what comes next would be unbearable."

Bob's brow creases with concern at the glitch. A ripple in your memory, the imposed calmness that he couldn't miss, faltering. The way you had been referring to yourselves as we, never as I. He was getting somewhere. At least he hoped he was.

"What…" He hesitates, but curiosity gets the better of him. "What's coming next?"

"Ya estoy harta!" Your younger self flinches as a glass breaks in the distance. "Vete con tus pinche putas! Ya no me importa! Largarte! Largarte!"

"Ya no puedo! Ya basta. Pinche loca ya no puedo!"

Bob immediately tenses, ready to protect you and your younger self from whatever threat looms, but as the shouting continues in the distance, he recognises something familiar in the language. Spanish.

"Is... Is that...?" He whispers, knowing the answer but hoping he's wrong.

"S-Spanish." Your body convulses and twitches as the vulgar language is spoken. Feeling gross. You try to block them out, pausing your puzzle making, your hands harshly slammed against your ears. Tears form in your eyes as the screams only continue. You run over to the door, banging and kicking it. The kick makes the door widen, before you push against it.

"Shut up!" Bob flinches as your small body screeches. "Shut up! Ya cállate!" Your outcry only intensified. Your body shaking with sobs. "Shut up! Shut up!" You turn the lock, knowing it serves no real purpose. Your bedroom door barely closed. The doorframe stopped it from entirely shutting. You've never been able to lock it, not once. You turned and walked over to a corner where a dresser sat. You go to push it until it starts sliding across the floor. Pushing with everything you had in your tiny body, until it sat in front of the door. Blocking them from entering. You didn't want them near you. You kick the wall next to it in anger. To have them hear just how upset they made you. Hoping your meltdown would cause them to stop, to see how much they’re hurting you. You go far as to grab something heavy launching it into the wall too. The bang as agressive as your parents anger.

It's not long before you move to where you remain under the desk. Your younger self crawls underneath with you. Scooting herself next to you as your older self ticks and shivers at the language exchanged. Your younger self cups her ears and lets out an ear-piercing scream. All the while, yourself sheds a tear. It's only then that he finally gets a real reaction from you. You turn to your younger self wanting to save her the pain. You wrap an arm around her and tuck her in close to your side.

Bob is frozen in place as the scene unfolds before him. The sheer desperation in your voice is gut-wrenching; you just want it to stop. He watches with staggered breaths as your younger self curls into you. The shouting and screaming continue in the background.

He wants to move, to grab the dresser and shove it through the wall, to put an end to the shouting and the pain taking place on the other side of that door. But he remains where he is, watching yourself try to help your younger self find solace. His eyes dart to the blocked door, listening to the muffled yelling from outside. He grits his teeth, anger bubbling within him.

When he turns back to look at you both. Your younger self is nowhere to be found beside you. "Here!" His head turns to the child sitting before him again on the floor. Another puzzle piece was offered to him once again.

How long did you relive this before he got here? The memory had reset again, he realized.

Bob's hands tremble as he gradually accepts the puzzle piece. Peering down at the upright face, snow-like texture painted on the piece to help him determine where it could go. He stares at it, guilt slowly seeping into his bones as he lifts his head to watch your younger self concentrate on the image the pieces were curating.

"How...How many times has she-you-" Bob can't even fathom how long you've been sitting under your desk, to appear so numb to everything. "How long have you been in here?"

"This is loop ten." Younger you, spares him a pinched grin. It doesn't reach her eyes.

Bob's stomach churns at the revelation. Loop ten? You've had to face this same scene ten times over, stuck in an endless cycle. He wants to scream, to tear everything apart, to make it stop. But he can't. He's just a participant in this twisted nightmare. His eyes shift between the puzzle and your younger self, his guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders, but he'd be damned if he didn't try. He had to try; this was you he was talking about. You'd done so much for him; he owed you that much. To push past how scared he was of screwing things up even more.

Your younger self looks up, halting her movements. "I-I can't finish it." You finally refer to yourself in first person. You look down at the puzzle. "I just wanna finish it."

"You want to finish the puzzle?" Bob questions, his words tinged with both confusion and understanding. He glances at the puzzle, taking in the incomplete image. It's beautiful in its own way, even without all the pieces. But the thought of you stuck in this repetitive loop, trying to complete it, it's unbearable. "You... You don't have to finish it." He says softly, his hand hovering over yours, unsure if he can even change your mind within the confines of this memory.

"I want to." Hope. A small spark ignites within Bob as your younger self expresses her determination. He picks up on the subtle changes in your expressions, the way your younger self glitches and gives way to glimpses of your older self. He clings onto this as a sign of change, that he can somehow alter this loop.

His back straightens. He looks back at you under the desk. You were still there, but a sliver of hope had him realizing you wanted to crawl from underneath there. "I... I get close, and then I never do. There's always a piece missing." The child's brows furrow with frustration. You go to place the remaining six pieces before pulling your hands into your lap.

"Missing piece?" His eyes flick back to the puzzle, taking in the image, searching for what could be amiss. Then there it is, the center spot, vacant. His gaze darts around the room. "Maybe it's somewhere else? In a drawer? Or under the bed?" He muses, his mind racing with possibilities, until the screams of your parents have him glancing at the door. He glances down at you, then at you under the desk.

"Hey!" You peer up at him. "Just... Just focus on me. Listen to my voice…not theirs. Okay?" With labored breaths, his grin grows as he tries to reassure you from the shouting behind the door. "Where would you look first?" Your younger self gets up and heads for the door, when suddenly you appear criss-crossed before him. His eyes widened, trying to gain your attention this time. "Y/n? Hey!" He exclaims, reaching forward, touching your shoulders. "Hey. Hi, oh my god hi!" You turn back to face him after having peered over at the door.

"B-Bob?" Your voice croaks.

"Yes!" Bob lets out a sigh of relief. He can't help the small laugh that escapes his lips. "Yes, it's me. Me Bob. That's me!" He gives a firm nod, still holding onto your shoulders. He leans down to meet your gaze. "I'm so sorry. The team told me what happened and how Void got out and ruined everything. How everyone came back, but you never did. I... I should've stayed home. I knew it was a bad idea to go to that gala, but the team insisted, you insisted, on getting me out of the tower, and...I screwed everything up again. Like I always do. But I'm here. I'm here and I want to make things right. I'm gonna get you out of here." His conviction bled through.

Your eyes glisten. You looked so small compared to the confidence you carried around him and the others earlier in the evening. You flinch, glancing over your shoulder as another vulgar word reaches your ears. "D-Don't listen to them." Bob turns your chin back over to him.

Bob forces a pinched smile as your attention returns to him. He squeezes your shoulders, his fingers gently kneading into your flesh, trying to ground you. "You want to finish this puzzle…We'll finish it." He says firmly, his eyes never leaving your face.

You muster a nod before looking at the blank spot, mocking you from its completion. Bob pulls back. Your younger self begins screaming and pushing the dresser towards the door. Your eyes close as a tick rakes through you. Bob takes note of your reaction, how the side of your ear hit your shoulder blade. Your younger self finishes under the desk, before she appears beside you and Bob. The puzzle resets back to its previous state of incompleteness once again.

Loop eleven.

He shifts his eyes down to your hands, something you twirled around mindlessly, catching his attention. His brows furrow as he reels in the object you acquired, the thing you fiddle with, it was the piece you needed to finish the puzzle.

You had it this whole time. His eyes soften.

"It seems almost selfish..." You concur.

His mouth parts as the realization dawns on him. "You..." Bob whispers, his words lost in awe. "You had it this whole time?" His gaze switches from the piece in your hand back to your face.

Your younger self's determination and stubbornness faded, replaced by the realization that you were holding onto the very thing you sought all along. He's struck by the simplicity yet irony of it all. You were so close to finishing the puzzle, but blinded by what was literally in your hands to do it. He shifts and turns to your younger self, peering up at you, expression expectant, waiting, filled with melancholy. She goes back to adding the six final pieces again.

"This stupid piece…That I could never find. I threw the puzzle away when I couldn’t finish it. It’s so stupid…"

Bob looks at the puzzle piece, a mix of emotions roiling within him. He feels a pang of guilt, knowing how long you'd been trapped here, the endless loop of trying to finish the puzzle without realizing you possessed the very thing needed to complete it. Your younger sits back, wringing her hands together, a mirror of his timidness. It brought him a sense familiarity, something he weighed on now, that you both had something in common. He reaches out, gingerly taking your younger self's hand, before looking back at you.

"It's not stupid." He reassures you. "Sometimes… we search for things so hard we forget to look in simple places." He pauses, his gaze lingering.

Your inner turmoil was evident. You dig a hand into a side pocket of your sweater, he hadn't known was there. "It was in my pocket..." You scoff. Shaking your head. "This whole time!"

Bob watches you, the realization settling in for both your younger and older selves. Younger you then mirrors your actions, stuffing her hand in the pockets, only to pull them out and be left empty handed. It was a poignant moment. "You-" Bob can't even finish the sentence, words momentarily lost on him. It was so simple.

Bob couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, a bittersweet sound. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him. You had been carrying the solution to your problem all along, hidden in your pocket. He shook his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and amazement. "I-I once lost my phone…It was in my hand the entire time." A lopsided grin took over his features. ”Though I’m pretty sure it was the meth that hindered my senses from realizing it was there the whole time...” He trails off, noting that his attempt to offer a similar experience did nothing to comfort you.

"It’s not the same…" You shake your head.

Bob breathes a faint laugh at your pouting, the sound of it reverberating across the room, a stark contrast to the ongoing shouting and aggression outside the room. "I think...I think you'll be okay." He chides gently, trying to bring light to the situation.

“How do you know that?”

“‘Cause you guys helped me…Help me still.” He corrects

Your hesitance was not lost on him. You peer up through your eyelashes, then back down to the piece. "What if this doesn't fix anything?"

Bob pauses as he takes in your question. The weight of it hangs in the air, his earlier optimism faltering for a moment. Hearing your apprehension only solidified the concern. Bob's smile fades into a serious expression. He takes in your younger self’s small form, then to you, the way your shoulders are slumped, and the anxiety settled in your eyes. "I don't know if it will." He admits earnestly, his voice soft. "I just...I just really, really hope it does. It has to."

"Is this all it takes…To just fix it?" You twirl the piece around mindlessly. "This single piece my ticket to getting out of here?"

Bob looks at you, really looks at you. The piece of paper board between your fingers spinning in a rhythmic motion, your eyes filled with a mix of peace and anguish. He sees the way your breathing picks up and the way your eyes dart around the room. He can see how much this effects you, the battle between your logical side and the part of you that's been trapped here for who knows how long, trying to meet in the middle. Conclude a final resolution.

"I...I don't know." He replies eventually. He tries. "I...I mean, you all saved me with a hug." He laughs, its nervous but light, then lets it die out. Bob wants to reassure you, to tell you that this piece will fix everything, but he can't because he's never been great at it. You were the one always putting him back together. You always had the right thing to say and knew when to apply it in your heart to hearts. "So what's to say you can't be fixed by a puzzle piece?"

"Just like that?"

Bob nodded. "Just like that." He affirmed. He knows the simplicity of it, the absurdity, the notion of such a simple thing being the key to your liberation, could probably be seen as laughable. But he didn't see it as such, it might’ve been laughable—yes, but it wasn’t to him. Hope flared in him, a spark of optimism that the solution was so simple, so ridiculously easy. "Yeah…just like that." He repeated, his voice resolute, putting your worries and fears to rest.

"Just like that..." You shed a tear, echoing his words. You take a deep breath, hearing your parents argue once more before you reach forward and place the piece in the center. Your body convulses as you begin to sob hysterically, your younger self sighing as you finish it for once. Bob's lip trembles as he pulls you into his chest.

He holds you tightly, your body trembling against his. His grip is firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that he's there. His heart aches as he listens to your sobs. The sobs wrack your frame as your emotions come out, a tidal wave of relief and frustration breaking through the surface after what feels like a lifetime. He rubs small circles on your back, whispering soothing words into your hair, as his own eyes glisten with unshed tears.

"I’m sorry I put you in here. I’m sorry." He whispers into your hair. "It's okay. I've got you. I-I got you."

“Guys.” Walker alerted the team as a shadow appeared beside Bob’s body—a dark silhouette, mirroring your form.

The team looked over, frozen at the shadow's sudden appearance. Bucky took a cautious step forward, and Yelena rose from her chair.

It felt like you had woken up from a deep slumber when you came to. Everyone watched as your tar-like self was slowly revealing itself, like a sheet unveiling you. The shadows released you, shedding away from your form down to your heels. A sigh escaped from you as you pushed against the floor. Your dress draped around you like a blanket as you peered up at your team and the guest who lay witness. You hear a grunt to your right, you turn and watch Bob come to as well. His eyes were trying to settle amongst the warm lighting surrounding the gala. His suit was wrinkled and left in disarray as he sat up. Yelena's heels clicked closer as she reached down to help you stand. "Oh my god!" She pulled you in closer for a hug. You were still finding your bearings. "Thank god. I thought we lost you!" You peer over to see Bob take Bucky's arms appreciatively.

Bucky pulls Bob to his feet, and a sigh of relief leaves him as he sees him finally become aware of his surroundings. He pats Bob on the back a few times, his grip on his palm tight.

"I knew you could do it, buddy." Bucky greets him with a small smile, his expression slightly worried as he observes his disheveled appearance.

"Thank you?" Bob blinks a couple of times, a forced smile on his face, before it fades. "Do what exactly?"

"You don't remember-" Bucky confirms. "You brought Y/n back from the-" Bucky's words were interrupted by the touch of Alexei's grasp on his upper arm and the sound of Walker's words.

"Bucky...Let's debrief him later. Not right now." He suggested. "She's back and safe. We'll deal with it at home. Not here."

"Is everything okay?" Bob's gaze flickers over to see you surrounded by Yelena and Ava. They were checking you over, making sure everything was okay.

Were you hurt?

He looks back at Bucky, his expression hardening. "I brought Y/n back from what?"

"Not here, kid." Walker reached forward to pat his shoulder. "You did great, that's all that matters-" Walker inhales deeply as Bob's hand tightened around his wrist.

"Don't- Don't call me kid." Bob closes his eyes, his irritation getting the better of him as his eyes glow amber for a split second. He gestures a pointed finger at Walker. "From what?"

Alexei steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Bob’s tense shoulders. "Easy there." He cautiously speaks. "Everything is fine now."

Bob's face remains stern, his gaze steady, irritation clear in his expression. "Tell me."

Walker and Bucky exchanged a worried look, both of them noticing the change in Bob's demeanor. "Not now," Walker repeated, his voice firmer this time, his grip on Bob's hand that held his wrist, not letting up either. Bob sensed the clear indication that Walker wasn't going to elaborate, not in the middle of this venue. The commotion from earlier was probable cause for them to high-tail it out of there. Bob’s stubbornness didn’t help their favor.

Bucky leaned in, his tone low, hoping to diffuse the situation. He closed his eyes before giving in. "Look, Void got loose, okay? Something happened. Everyone came back, Y/n didn't." Bob's grip falters, his eyes softening at the information. "Later, okay? We'll explain everything later. But we should probably leave, head home."

"What do you mean she didn't come back?" Bob's confusion only grows. His eyes shifted over to where you were reassuring people that you were fine, who asked if you needed a doctor.

"No, no. I'm okay. Really." He heard your voice bellow out from the short distance between you.

Bob couldn't help but watch as you shook your head, waving off any worried busybodies, and he found himself torn. Part of him wanted to let it go, to leave it be as Bucky and the others insisted. But there was another part of him that yearned to understand. He couldn't leave without answers. He pushed against Bucky's arm, which was trying to ground him.

"Yelena-Yelena!" He called out to her. She waved off another guest, who couldn't mind their business.

“Yes, yes, fine. All is good and well now.”

"Oh my god, what a mess! Is she okay?" Valentina's voice became apparent. Where did she come from? "Y/n, dear, the second you don't feel like yourself, say when. I got medical on call, alright."

"Oh no, I'm fine. I don't need a medic to come-"

"Oh my god, Valentina. She's fine. I promise. Don't intervene." She grew annoyed with Valentina's facade of sudden concern. She wasn't worried about your well-being, just worried about maintaining your image in the public's eye. Valentina continued with her rambling about how much she cared and would prefer it if you were checked over. "Oh my god, we don't need a medic here, ТЫ УПРЯМЫЙ МУЛ!" Yelena cursed. Who knows how Valentina would settle this mess with the press? She double-takes at the sound of her name being called before her attention settles on Bob's concerned one.

"Is she okay?" He mouths.

"She's fine," She waves him off. "Promise." She then nods before rolling her eyes as Valentina rants about having let him out of the house. He reciprocates her nod before his shoulders relax briefly at her assurance, his worry slightly lessened. But something still gnawes at him. His gaze drifts over to you again, his expression turning solemn as he sees the fake smiles and the feigned concern that some are displaying. You didn’t need their fake niceties.

His gaze lingers on you, trying to garner any sign that you weren't fine, but it wasn’t long before you locked eyes.

You catch his gaze, then begin excusing yourself from the small crowd, as a sense of anxiety overcomes you.

"Excuse me-" You politely muttered as you made your way toward him. It was as if a gravitational pull was urging you to him. The room, the people, everything else faded into the background as your focus solely centered on him.

Bob straightens at your approach, taken aback as you nestle yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him.

Startled, he initially freezes for a few seconds before his body relaxes, molding into you. His arms naturally encircle your form, pulling you into a tight embrace, his chin perched on top of your head. Your scent and warmth enveloped him, a sense of comfort washing over him. You felt like home.

"Hi…" Bob's voice, a soft whisper, reached your ears as he greeted you. You feel his hands mold more firmly around your waist, a gesture that makes your heart skip.

"Hi..." You return the greeting, your own voice just as soft, finding solace in the familiar sound of his breaths. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah..." His response short. “Are you okay?" He emphasizes, a hand gently stroking your exposed back.

"I'm fine." You wave it off.

Bob's eyebrow raises, his expression doubtful as he peers down at you. "You sure...?" He questions further, knowing you're prone to downplaying. But so was he.

“Yes and no.” A nervous laugh resounded from you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He offers, even though he’s not sure what he’s saving you from. He’s caught glimpses of your past before, not that you’d ever truly forego the idea of talking to him about it. He was much alike you in the manner of only giving surface levels of his ugly past. You both only knew what you allowed to be seen.

“You did. You helped me.” Your words, their simplicity, but all the more effective, affectionate, sure. He helped you? How could he have helped you, but have no recollection of it? You smile sweetly as you reach to place a kiss on his cheek. Was this your thankfulness wrapped up in an act of endearment? “You might not remember it, but you were enough, and you were there." You nod suringly.

He looks at the way you're molded against his chest. How his hands fit and embrace your figure like he's ready to protect and shield you from harm's way. The way your softened eyes perceive him in this lightheartedness. Like he's somehow hung the stars in your night sky. He can't help but wonder what he's done. What he's done to be truly worth being perceived delicately. You look like you're scared he'll disappear right before your eyes, when he's the scared one, thinking you'll break under his touch.

"Bucky’s saying Void got out again..." He looks down between your bodies. "I should have stayed home- I made everything worse-"

"You did nothing wrong, okay." You reach up, cupping his face gently, lifting his chin so he'd meet your gaze. "You did nothing wrong." You insist. He places his palms over your hands. Leaning into the warmth your touch brings him.

“I remember him..." He nods at his sudden recollection. It comes to him in bits and pieces. "Ryker." His hands slide up your wrist to the purple indentations marring your wrist, contrasting your skin's original shade. He opens his eyes, hoping he's wrong when he peers at the discoloration. But your hurt wrist only brings forth the truth. Telling him everything he didn’t want to be true. He feels guilty for even letting the asshole execute the action, he tries to conjure up ways he can make the injury vanish. Would a kiss heal your wounds? Take away his mistakes? He opted not to, but he was tempted to do so. "He bruised you." He nods, firm and sure.

"Bruises fade, Bob." There you go again, downplaying someone's unforgiving behavior.

"A bruise might...The memories won't." You shake your head at his trepidation. "Why didn't you fight him? You...You're capable of defending yourself?" Bob looks into your eyes.

"I didn't want to escalate the situation..." You shrug dismissively..

"But he hurt you? He hurt you, and I couldn't stop him in time, I-" He pauses, when it hits him like a tidal wave. The way various shouts echo through his head. Your voice bellowing in anguish. A flash of your face painted with pain.

You had been thrown across the center of the venue's dance floor. You rolled and then landed awkwardly on your stomach. Your once neat hairdo was disheveled in your sudden state. You pushed up with your heels and palms.

"Y/n!" Yelena made for you, but you shook your head.

"No, no, don't." You held your hand out, halting Walker and Yelena from approaching you. "Stay back!" You warned.

"B-Bob stop!" You cry out, a rasp to your voice.

"I hurt you..." Bob's eyes widen in fear. He tries to pull your hands away from his face. It was as though he were the Flint Striker and you were the one caught on fire. He was burning you. "No, no, no..." His eyes close as he gently grips your palms and lowers them to your waist. You didn't want to let him go. "I make everything worse. I should have stayed home- I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Bob." You begin your reasoning. “No, I’m fine. You saved me! You got me out of there, everything’s better now.” You reach for him when he flinches. He hates how your face falls, even more so, when he denies you proximity.

“I-I should’ve stayed home.” He accepts before making his way back to Bucky, asking if they could leave.

“B-Bob!” You call after him, your dam cracking, hearing faint clicks approach your form from behind, you look up.

“Come on. Let’s get you both home before Valentina makes an ever bigger show.”

Yelena.

You peer at her, eyes glistening. She tilts her head, an apologetic smile on her face.

“Come on.” She wraps a blazer around your shoulders. One that smelled oddly like the shaggy-haired man. You were dreading the car ride home, that much certain.

“So you instigated him?” The drive back to the watch tower was nothing short of an unbearable experience. Your scowl and crossed arms giving way to how pissed off you were. Bucky and Walker avoided your harsh, directed stare. Bob had sat to your side, curling in on himself as the tension only intensified. His hands were warm, a mock of how close your skin was to touching, but he’d more than likely pull away.

Dreadful.

Now you all had made it out of the elevator with the team hot on your trail. Your heels clicked heavily against the floors. Bob stood off to the side slowly discarding the tie Yelena had done for him. He looked down at the fabric. Messing with it idly to distract himself from the fight he knew would break out. His shoulders reflected that of a small child anticipating his parent’s anger, slumped over on his tall frame.

“I wouldn’t say that? It was more of a friendly bit of teasing. All we did was give him the nudge he needed to confess the undying love he has for you.” Walker sighed as he went over to the bar. “We saw how pissed Ryker was making you…told the kid to go save you or to stop bitching about how much he wants to be with you.”

Asshole.

“So you hazed him and made Void come out.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Walker trails off.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Look, we didn’t mean for it to happen-“

“Didn’t mean-“ You laugh incredulously. “Spare me, Walker. No one can function properly, when you’re down everyone’s throat with childish antics. What were you even thinking?”

“Y/n, you don’t need to stick up for me-” Bob tried to create space between you and the Soldier.

“He wasn’t.” Bucky stepped in. Running a hand down his face tiredly. “We thought it’d be harmless, Y/n. Why would we ever intentionally put him through that sort of thing?”

“I told you we were gonna get him out of the house so he good have a fun night. Did I not tell you I wanted no weapons for tonight? To not wound him up to the point of his other self being unleashed. I was gonna come back after I handled Ryker. I had it handled.” You sneer at the man. Tears forming in your eyes, shaking your head at his ignorance.

A scoff to your left makes everyone’s head turn. Bob fiddles with his tie, his head shaking, a half smile settled over his face. “He bruised you…that’s not handling it.”

“Bob-“ You sigh.

“It…It wasn’t their fault, Y/n. If anyone’s to blame, blame it on me. I went after you…”

“No-“ You protest.

“Bucky and Walker only brought the idea up to me...It was my choice alone. I made the decision…to check on you. But now…I-I should have stayed home-“ Bob shakes his head. “Valentina was right…I shouldn’t have been let out.”

“Valentina can dig her grave and lie in it. I’m tired of her trying to keep you locked up here. You’re allowed to go outside when you feel like it! You’re not under house arrest, she can’t confine you to this place-”

“I just make everything worse.” Bob's brows pinch together. You cup your stomach as tears begin to spill down your face.

“No. You don’t. Don’t think like that. You don’t, I promise.” Your protest further escalated his self-loathing.

“Void took hold of you from what everyone is saying, and for whatever reason, felt the need to keep you from getting back to us. He hurt you, I hurt you.“

“But that’s not on you! That wasn’t your fault! It was mine. For thinking I could somehow bring you back down from in there.” Your eyes meet his temple. “I made things worse. I mean—I shot a bullet at you! I could have knocked him on his ass, but I didn’t and it wasn’t the right call for me to make.” You argue.

“We’re one whole. How is it not my fault?” His shoulders slumped, looking at the team’s conflicted expressions. “Am I wrong?” He breathes a laugh out. “Nothing ever turns out great when I’m around.” He slowly retreats towards the stairs. “I told you guys I should’ve stayed home...”

“Bob please…” You call after him.

“Let him go.” Bucky orders. You turn back to look at your teammates.

“D-Did I just ruin this things between us?” You let your arms flop down to your sides.

“No…it’s not your fault. This isn’t your fault at all.” Bucky reassures you. He walks over to you and squeezes your shoulder.

“Why didn’t you knock him on his ass?” Walker questions.

“I was going to,” You snapped back at him. “-but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I don't know...It felt like I was back there again, enduring his abuse when he grabbed me...I guess I froze." You shrug nonchalantly. "Then Bob showed up...and I couldn't think straight. Couldn't think of a way not to escalate things further, but I only made it worse, and it cost Ryker his life in the end...Cost Bob a fun night."

"He killed him?" Walker closes his eyes; your turmoil didn't do anything to hide it. He didn't miss the coms from the authorities either, claiming one casualty earlier on their way out of the venue.

You looked at the floor. "He did...and he doesn't need that put on him. So don't fucking tell him." You warn.

"I think Bob should decide that for himself, no?" Bucky raised a brow at you. "What happened to letting him make his own choices from now on?"

“Well, he wanted to stay home, but we all kept insisting he go out with us. So I don’t know anymore! And I'm not deciding for him..." Your hands were balled into a tight fist. "He should decide, yes, but when he's ready. He doesn't need to know about it right now...It just happened and a part of me isn’t too upset with him about it, but he's in such a vulnerable state right now...I feel like it’ll only do more harm than good...It'll be another thing for him to hate himself over...He doesn’t need that right now.” You say softly. “You guys should have seen him when we were in the void…He’s so capable and we take his gifts for granted.”

“We never thought he was incapable, it's why we agreed to allow him to make his own choices, decide what he eats for dinner, allow him to find his own hobbies. Tonight was just a one-time incident where we peer pressured him into leaving his room, when he didn't want to."

“Well, that peer pressure backfired, didn’t it?” You said under your breath. You run a hand down your face in frustration. “God, he didn’t even want to leave his room...Did you see how uncomfortable he was at dinner? You said it yourself, we coerced him. And I’ve never seen him more upset about it...” You turn your head, peering at the staircase. "Was it stupid of me to think we could show him a fun night out?"

"No. We all wanted the same for him." Yelena shakes her head. "It's not stupid."

"Then why does it feel like it is? He's probably up in his room beating himself up for even stepping outside."

"'Cause you love him..." Yelena gave you a pinched tired grin.

You look away from her. Your shoulders slumped as your eyes burned with unshed tears. It was quiet. No one was sure of what to say. You closed your eyes as that familiar pain in your chest returned. "I do. I love him..." Your voice broke. "But this isn't about how I feel. It's about him." You shake your head. "He was just starting to feel a little more secure with himself in public...He's gonna hate himself for thinking he ruined everyone's night. I could see it in his eyes...The last thing he needs is to feel guilty over something he has no control over." You continue.

"It's not fair to him...He's had it rough for so long, and every time there's progress, something bad happens that takes him thirty steps back." You let out a small scoff. "Maybe I never should have brought up the idea of a night out in the first place...How can he forgive me after a night like tonight?"

"'Cause he loves you too." Yelena tilts her head at your self-deprecation.

You look at her. Your body stiffens, and your chest tightens as you let her words sink in. "But what good is it to love me if it only brings him pain? How long before that love fades to nothing because of my negligence?"

Yelena shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. "You can't doubt yourself, or his feelings for you. I know it's difficult, but the last thing you need to do is start putting yourself down and feeling sorry about tonight." She squeezes your hands.

Bucky stood next to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he nodded in agreement. "You know that you mean a lot to him right?"

“And he only agreed to go out because you wanted him there with us.” Yelena admits.

“Also, we might’ve encouraged him to confess his feelings for you, but he wanted to do it at his own time…I should have stopped then and there, kid. I’m sorry.”

Bucky’s admission only added to the weight that sat heavy in your chest. You look over at him and nod slowly, unable to form words.

Yelena gently rubbed you on the back. “You know he can’t stay inside that room forever. You both need each other." Yelena chimed in. “Plus he can’t go a day without his cereal so there’s that…”

"He'll come to his senses..." Walker gives you a faint grin. “He’d be stupid not to.”

“T-Thanks guys…” You step back from Yelena’s hands. “I’m gonna be outside if you need me…gonna clear my head.”

“Want some company?” Ava offers surprisingly.

“N-No I’m okay.” You brush her off before you head out to the roof.

“Take the time you need, little one.” Alexei chimes after you. You raises a thumb in the air in your exit.

When you're out of sight, Walker asks. "What time is it?"

Bucky checks his watch. "Just a quarter till midnight. Why?"

At the realization, Walker takes off towards the staircase. "Walker, what are you doing?" Yelena called after him.

"Keeping my promise!" He called from over his shoulder. “You'll see!” Bucky, Yelena, Ava shared a look as he ran up the stairs and disappeared.

"What the hell is that about?" Yelena gapes before shaking her head. “Whatever, I’m going to bed. Someone make sure Y/n doesn’t jump off the roof.”

“I don’t think we have to worry about that…” Bucky shakes his head.

You hadn't fully registered how the cold breeze stung you until you felt a jacket fall over your shoulders. You had been so caught by New York's optics that you missed the metal door creak open. You jump at the sudden contact, thinking you'd see someone beside you, but you had to turn further around to see the man of the hour, who had been running through your mind, stood at the door. You take note of the hand he lowers back down to his side. Putting two and two together about how the jacket made it to you. He made it float. "Bob..."

“Walker said you might be cold…” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Right…I-I was...thank you." You turn your head, nuzzle your nose into the fabric as you insert your arms through the arm holes.

He nods his head. “Welcome…” His chest feels tight watching you snuggle into his jacket. His gaze settled down in front of him. Neither of you say anything. The sounds of New York City echo throughout the night air. Car engines, taxi cabs, faint horns in the distance. Time did seem to stop up here, whereas life continued down on the streets. It was oddly comforting. "C-Could I join you?"

You look back at him, surprised by his suddenness. "Yeah...Yeah of course."

He nods then takes the spot next to you; awkwardly fidgets with his fingers in his lap. He turns his head, looking at you in his jacket. It was a sight for sure...He tried to ignore the way his heart palpitated in his chest.

He tries to focus on the sound of the wind and the city in the distance. But his eyes linger on you, taking in your form. How the evening sky envelopes you in its darkness, distant lights from neighboring buildings causing a warm hue to make your face visible to him, the way the wind nipped at your nose, and your sniffles took over you...He couldn't deny it...You looked beautiful, so carefree.

You turn at the right time and catch him gazing at you. Your eyes crinkle with a hint of heat that rushes up to warm your cheeks. You both emit a nervous laugh, settling your eyes onto your laps. His hands wring together, yours fiddling with the jacket's sleeves.

The silence continued, but this time, there was an obvious tension in the air. The both of you were hyper-aware of it. His eyes continued to dart between you and the city lights. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything..."

His heart stutters in his chest. He takes a shaky breath, his nervousness building. He looks back at you. You look at him reassuringly, like you genuinely meant that one word...Anything.

It makes it difficult for him to get the next words out. "...It’s a stupid question." He rubs the back of his neck.

“That’s okay.”

"I-I just-" He sighs, his jaw clenching as he looks out at the city again. "This might sound weird...But do you know how to tie a tie?" He swallows down any anxiety, forcing his gaze back on you.

“Oh.” Your eyes widen at the peculiar question. “Do I know how to tie a tie?” You ask again to ensure you heard him right. Bob nods yes.

“Sorry...I warned you it was a stupid question. Just...Forget I asked, okay?" He rubs the back of his neck again, looking away.

"No, No...It's okay. If you really want to know. I do."

His eyes flicker with curiosity, meeting your gaze. "You...You do?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Why do you ask?"

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but there was an underlying hint of something in his eyes. "Oh, I was just...I was just curious, that's all...I can’t put one on myself...Yelena did it for me, but I…" He trails off, looking back at the city. "I just thought maybe...You could-" His words die in his throat, cutting himself off before he lets any more words slip. He shakes his head, his hands continuing to fidget in his lap.

You register the implication. "Teach you?" You try.

His breath hitches in his throat as you finish his sentence. He looks back at you, his eyes a mix of vulnerability and relief. He could sense the anticipation in your gaze, waiting for him to respond. "Y-Yeah...Teach me." He finally manages to rasp out. "So Yelena won't have to anymore..."

"Yeah, I can. Tell me when okay." You grip his hand. He nods.

"O-Okay..." He looks down at his lap. Your touch is soft and warm. He can't help letting the guilt eat at him. You were being so gentle with him when he was anything but. "I'm sorry I hurt you..."

"Don't-” You shake your head. “Don't do that. Don't apologize." You squeeze his hand gently. "It wasn't your fault...You weren't in control."

"But that doesn't change the fact that my other half hurt you!" He snaps back, his grip on your hand momentarily tightening. You both look down at his hold, his shoulders lose their tension before he's holding you like you're made out of porcelain.

"Look at me, please." You request softly. He raises his head, trying to avoid eye contact. His chest tightens, knowing he can’t hold your gaze for too long. "It wasn't you."

His jaw clenches, his eyes stinging. "I should've stayed here...Then I wouldn't have ruined the night." His breath shakes, the words leaving him in a broken whisper. His eyes meet yours, tears blurring his vision. He hated this—all of this.

Tears sting your eyes as well. Your free hand reaches up, brushing his cheek gently. His eyes flutter at your touch. "You didn't ruin anything..."

He shakes his head, refusing to accept the comfort you try to offer him. The guilt is too heavy, weighing him down like a thousand-pound weight. He feels so undeserving. "I did...I always do. I-I..." His voice trails off, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"No-" Your hand cups his face, forcing him to look at you. "No, you don't. You might make mistakes, but you don't always screw things up. You're a good man, Bob. You're so much more than what you think of yourself..." You lean your forehead against his. “You’re good.”

He tries not to melt at the way you say his name. His face falls forward, leaning his forehead into yours. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of your touch, your words. "How can you say that? Especially after tonight..."

"Because it’s true.” You softly run your thumb over his cheek, catching another tear that slips down. “You are such a good man.” You take a shaky breath, trying to find the right words. “You’ve been through a lot…You’ve been beaten down many times…but you keep bouncing back up.” He’s still against you, his breathing ragged as he lets the comfort of your proximity soothe him. “You brought me back from the Void, you didn’t leave me…You’re so good!” You breathe out a laugh. "I wish you'd see it yourself."

He can’t speak, the lump in his throat preventing him from doing so. Instead, he closes his eyes tighter, relishing in the sound of your voice. He’s desperate to soak up every word you say, to have them sink in, become second skin. He’s been deprived of something so simple for so long, to hear the one person he cares about say those words…It’s making him unravel at the seams. When he finally speaks, it’s barely above a whisper. “Do you love me?”

The question hangs in the air like the sound of a church bell. You take note of how he’s looking at you. The way he leans into your touch, seeking the comfort of human contact that he’s been deprived of. Your hand gently cups his chin, your other moving to rest over his heart. His gaze is fixed on yours like an anchor, waiting for you to respond. You can read the desperation and need in his eyes, the vulnerability that he's trying so hard to conceal.

You see a man wanting, no, begging to be loved. To be told that he's worthy of it despite believing otherwise. You look at the way he's clutching your hand, desperate for some kind of reassurance. He's hurting, still so damn broken, but not loving him with every fiber in your being would hurt you more. "Yes…God, I’d be stupid not to." You breathe a laugh.

Your words hit him like a tidal wave. His heart stutters in his chest, the grip he has on your hand clenching involuntarily. His eyes search yours again, looking for any sign of deception, anything to tell him you don't really mean it. But all he sees is complete honesty looking right back at him. He shakes his head; a broken laugh escapes his lips as his chest tightens at the confession. "Yeah…You really mean that?"

His questioning. It only hurts you further. So you cup his face, bringing him closer so you could look into his eyes. “I do. I mean it...I love you.” He flinches. He’s frozen, eyes searching your face, waiting for you to take it back. You don’t.

You run your thumb over his skin, gently brushing your nose against his. You see tears form in his eyes again, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Gripping the material of the jacket he gave to you, pulling you close. “Can you repeat it?” He finally croaks out.

“I love you…” You’d tell him three thousand times if he asked.

He shivers; the tremble of his chin is barely noticeable. “Again?” You’re suddenly pulled into his lap with a soft force. The grip he has on you is tight, not rough, as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

"I love you." You trace his jawline. He lets out a shaky breath. It's not long till you're leaning in to capture his lips with yours.

The first touch of your lips against his has him releasing a low groan. His eyes flutter as he melts into it before he suddenly pulls you flush against him, desperately trying to savor it—savor your touch. His lips move against yours in a frenzy, his hands gripping you tighter on your hips. The kiss is filled with need, a longing he can barely contain.

He can’t get enough. The taste of you was so sweet and warm. He’s been deprived of such a simple thing that now his body screams for it. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his hands exploring every part of you he can reach. He can feel your body against his, its heat, that only adds fuel to the fire. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate and desperate than you expected from him. When you pull back to gather your bearings, to allow oxygen back into your lungs, you can’t help but cry. Bob, already second-guessing the little make-out session, feeling he's done something wrong, was relieved when your words deterred his troubled thoughts.

“You're good, you're worthy, and you are so loved…” You wipe the remaining tears with the back of your hand. "If you ever take anything from this conversation, Bob, let it be those three words. You deserve to be wanted. To be happy, to be loved…"

#bob reynolds imagine #bob reynolds #bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds imagines #bob reynolds x fem!reader #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds x fem!reader #robert reynolds imagine #robert reynolds imagines #bob reynolds x you #sentry x reader #thunderbolts*#thunderbolts fanfic #writings by juls #writings by juls: robert reynolds #my gif

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starwovenkiss · 2 days ago

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part two to this concept

“Ja-son, your little friend is back,” Dick sing-songs, voice coming in through his comms and Jason’s brow furrows.

Roy is somewhere off in Star City, Kory in another galaxy, and Bizarro is off….. doing what Bizarro does.

“And she’s refusing to leave until she sees you.”

Well, that only sounds like one person he knows. His head thumps back against the wall before bringing out his grappling hook.

What could it be now?

He makes a bet with himself, no training tomorrow if you stole anything over $100K, just to keep himself amused as he swings from building to building.

He wonders what Selina would think, if she knew about the stunts you pulled to get him to look his way.

“C’mon, sweetheart, I was voted Bludhaven’s sexiest vigilante three years in a row. What do you even see in him, anyways?” is what Jason is greeted with. Dick’s smile is playful as you stare at him blankly, arms crossed while you watch him casually toss his escrima stick.

“Not interested,” you reply, and Dick gasps, holding his heart like he’s gotten stabbed. “Where is Red Hood anyways?”

“Don’t worry. Your boyfriend said he was on the way,” Dick’s tone is mocking, dripping with teasing and sarcasm and Jason just knows this is going to somehow make its way back to Bruce.

“Wing,”he interrupts and both your heads turn. Jason knows he’s intimidating, knows that most people shit themselves and run far in the opposite direction when they hear him coming.

He never understood why you always looked so relaxed when he came.

“Get him to leave. He hasn’t shut up since he’s gotten here,” you mutter, stalking over to him and Dick cackles.

“God, you two are perfect for each other. It makes sense,” he says and Jason fights the urge to shove one of his escrima sticks down his throat.

“What are you doing?” he asks softly, looking down at the feline figure in front of him. He’s punched with a memory of the day you two first met, barely teenagers facing off against each other in a similar fashion.

You shrug, lips turning up into a dangerous smirk. “I thought we had an agreement. I steal something, you show up.”

“You’re not the only criminal who wants my attention.” It’s true. Black Mask has been popping up around Gotham more frequently, and even now, Jason is pulled to follow the leads he’s been given instead of standing in front of you.

You hum, considering his statement.

“What if I’m the only one who deserves it?” you ask.

“I can’t keep chasing after you over petty crimes.”

“This is petty?” you smile and from where, he swears he doesn’t know, you pull out a diamond ring and toss it to him.

Jason registers Dick’s wheezy laughter behind him, and he sighs as he takes a look at the very large engagement ring.

“Where did you get this?” he asks. He knows this ring, had seen it hanging off the left hand of some Gotham socialite at the last gala Wayne foundations had hosted. And now it’s in his hand, glittering in the moonlight.

You smile, getting ready to jump off the ledge into the night. “I thought you didn’t have time for petty crimes?”

Jason watches you disappear, there one moment and gone the next before turning to face Dick.

“Fuck you,” he says, and Dick cackles again.

“I didn’t do anything!” He holds one hand up while holding onto his ribs from laughing too hard.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Dick asks, and for a moment, he’s sincere. Older brother concern coming out of him in waves.

“Always do,” Jason responds and he takes another look at the ring in his gloved hand. He pockets it, making a note to give it back to its rightful owner before looking at where Dick is gleaming.

“One more word, and I’m shoving you off this roof.”

Dick hums, giving a mock salute.

“Black Cat and Red Hood sitting in a tree, K-I-S - Oomph.”

Dick’s taunt is cut off by his own screams of delight as he falls 81 stories down, grappling hook in hand.

once again i’m stuck writing a fic with no end in sight and these two are helping me not lose my mind. happy mother’s day to anyone who celebrates and happy sunday to those who don’t. 🤍

#starwovenwrites #jason todd #jason todd drabble #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood drabble

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softieekayy · 2 days ago

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Reid-iculous

Past!spencer Reid x reader x Frank Langdon

Word count: 3.7k

A/n: I just saw that the requester wanted an OBGYN reader and I completely glossed over that and made the reader and Emerg doctor. I will rewrite this if you hate it, I’m so sorry 😭

The morning dew rested gently on the grass, most of the world still sleeping in the early hours of the morning. That, unfortunately, was not the case of the beloved health care or emergency in Pittsburg. The rustling of sheets slowly woke Frank from his slumber and in a still sleepy haze, he threw his arm over his beautiful fiancee, trying to soak in this feeling, the next time he’ll have it is in another 15 hours. Gruelling work it was, the trauma bay in the PTMC but this is what they chose and it’s too late to change. Or well, that's what the woman tracing light patterns on his back would say.

“Frank.” she calls out, voice as sweet as honey and he wonders, how on earth could anyone give up on such a sweet thing like her. “Hm.” he grunts, already knowing what the next words are. Frank lets out a louder groan, turning himslef onto his stomach as she giggles and places a small kiss on his forehead before making her way into the bathroom, humming a tune under her breath. Frank lets out a sigh, sitting up and trying to rub the sleepiness from his eyes as he joins her in the bathroom.

He watches the younger woman for a minute, knowing what her morning routine by heart but still always admiring. “How are you always so cheery in the morning?” the questions leaves his mouth before his brain has the time to process it. His fiancee, in the midst of washing her face, stares at him through the mirror and responds, “drugs.” a dead serious look on her face as the tall, dark haired man snorts. Seeing that, she lets a small smile of her own slip.

“But seriously Frank, we are going to be late if we don’t get in the shower now.” she tells him, tugging the white t-shirt she wore to bed over her head and tying up her hair. Frank admires her for a second too long, the swell of her breasts and the way her curves looked in the lighting of the bathroom. He needed someone to pinch him before he decided that this was just another wonderful dream.

“You gonna keep staring loverboy?” (Y/n) asks, peeking her head out of the shower and frank sheds his clothes in lightning speed before joining her. The hot water feeling amazing on their skin, a last moment of relaxation before they both tense up at work again.

“Fuck-” the sentance cut off as a student running past the couple accidentally bumped into (Y/n), luckily frank caugh her before any major injuries could happen, telling her that he didn’t need his day starting off by bringing her to the hospital for a CT because she hit her head. The shorter woman just glared at frank who grinned like he found a pot of gold. The couple made their way into the hospital, seeing most of the day shift members already present and the night shift just wrapping up final details on cases before letting the day shift take over. Frank and (y/n) walked over to their lockers, already seeing samira there, waiting for her best friend.

“Damn, looks like your wife gets you for the rest of the day” Frank mutters as he takes the bag his fiancee hands him, making her way towards the other woman. “We haven’t even started for the day and you’re already stealing her from me,” Frank whines like a petulant child while both woman snicker. Samira throws her arm over the other woman’s shoulders and pulls her in, “You get her 24 hours a day Langdon, let me have her for these 15,” Samira tells him, making his frown deepen as they make their way over to Dana and Robby at the nurse’s station.

Robby looked at frank once, then again, laughing lightly at his sour expression.

“Jesus, who pissed in your coffee this morning?” He huffed out as the younger man muttered something about stealing time under his breath. Dana, being a woman and smarter than the two men who stood before her, “it’s probably because dr. mohan is hogging dr. (y/l/n), again.” she huffed out, a smile on her face as she watched the two women, thick as thieves and close as sisters. Samira was showing the other woman a patient chart, asking for some advice on what to say to the parent who wouldn’t listen or acknowledge the proper care instructions. (y/n)’s eyebrows pinched together the more she listen to samira talk about the ridiculous parent.

“They come here for our help but won’t take our advice, what are we doing here then” The younger woman rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest, red painted lips curled into a disapproving frown. Samira only shook her head and muttered a small “i know” before leaving the other woman to deal with her patients.

“Morning Dana, Dr. Robby.” she greeted kindly, a smile on her face and a chai tea in one hand. Dana smiled at the young doctor before handing her a patient chart, a teen boy with an open tibia fracture in room 302. The younger woman thanked her before making her way over, her shadow for the day today being Dennis Whitaker. She quite liked the young man, he reminded her of a drowned rat but like a cute one. She had a thing for strays, Frank Langdon would and will heavily attest to that.

Opening the door, she walked in and introduced herself and Dennis.

“Hello Ryan, I’m Dr. (y/l/n) and this is Dr.Whitaker. Do you mind if he observes and helps us today?” She asks kindly, a soft smile on her face and when the boy shakes his head no, (y/n) motions for Dennis to go ahead with the examination and diagnosis, gently helping and guiding him when his tone wavered in unsureness. Ryan was a champ, the more the two doctors talked to him, the more impressive he became. They found out that he obtained the fracture from playing football, it was practice but he still took it seriously. An hour or so later, he was all wrapped up and ready to go home. Thanking both the doctors with a huge grin on his face as his mom beside him gramaced a little.

On the otherside of the ER, Frank Langdon stood still, chart in hand as he looked awestruck by his beautiful wife to be. She has to be the most gorgeous creature frank has ever laid his eyes on. The way her smile lights up a whole room needs to be studied but more so the fact that she’s so warm. Like sunshine personified. Everyone and everything finds itself drawn to her presence, like a moth drawn to a flame. Unbeknownst to him though, the two biggest gossips in the room are watching him diligently.

“He still looks at her like it’s his first time meeting her.” Pearlah says, not moving her eyesight from Frank. Princess, who stood beside her looking at a patient chart hums in response.

“Do you rember the first time they met?” Princess laughs, the memory of a slightly younger verson of Frank playing in their head. He had tried so hard to not catch feelings for the younger resident but failed miserably and everyone around them could see it. He was walking backwards while talking to her, just so he can keep looking at her face and made sure she stuck by him everyday. He was awestruck then and he was awestruck now. Not much had changed.

“Um..Dr.Langdon..?” Mel’s voice brought Frank back from whatever fantasy played in his head at the moment. He looked down at the blonde resident and sighed, aplogising for bring so distracted but the former only smiled and waved her hand, saying that it’s not a big deal. (Y/n) looked up at him from where she sat at her desk, flashing Frank a warm smile before turning her attention back to what Dennis was saying. Frank swore to every god in existence that his heart stopped but before he could say anything to anyone or even may his way over to her, the speakers started blasting.

“Trauma team to the ER. GSW incoming, female, late 20’s.” That’s all the doctors need to hear before they start preparing themselves, gowns and gloves on. Frank and (Y/n) move in sync, clearly and silently stating that they’ll be the ones to take over this case. The ambulance comes quick and on the gurney lays a blonde woman that the young doctor knows too well. Jennifer Jereau. Her best friend at one point when she was dating her co-worker.

“JJ?” the nickname falls out of her mouth before she’s able to stop it. To her, it feels like everything in the world has stopped movin. It also meant that if JJ was here then so was he. She paused for the slightest second but that didn’t go unnoticed by Frank but the years of training took over, “On my count,” she barked out, her voice authoritative and on edge, “One, two, three.” The team transferred JJ to the bed as they began to check her vitals.

“The gunshot is through and through.” She yells out as the team prepares for what’s to be done next. Pearlah administers the IV and morphine as Frank begins to work on his finacee’s former friend. Not that he know’s who she is anyways. Before she could start helping again, the doors bust open and a very worried Dennis stands there, panting as if he’d just run a marathon saying something about a federal agent and urgent care.

“Go.” Frank tells her, not looking up from JJ. (Y/n) stands there for a moment, uncertain but frank reassures her, tells her that he’s got JJ and that she will be okay. The young doctor feels slightly comforted at his words before taking off the gown and gloves, making her way towards the very recognizable team.

“Fuck- I uh, need a minute.” She tells the young student doctor as her lips curl down into a frown and an uneasiness takes over her. She feels like she’s going to be sick. Dennis looks worried and opens his mouth to say something before she shoots him a look and he walks away, mumbling something about bringing back a bottle of water. Nothing in the ED department goes unnoticed by anyone and this time, it was Robby. He watched as she took in deep shaky breaths, clearly trying to ground herself. To anyone else it may have looked like it was a hard case but to him, he knew it was something else that bothered her.

“Hey kid, you okay.” Robby’s soft voice broke (y/n) out from her train of thoughts as she looked up at the senior attending, simply nodding her head, hoping that Robby would take the hint. Spoiler alert, he didn’t. Robby crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a look, she called it the disappointed dad look. Looking up at him she rolled her eyes, knowing that she would have to explain her little breakdown.

“It’s uh, my ex. And his team, they’re here.” She told him, voice wavering a little. Today was a great day. In fact, she had a date later tonight with her hot tub, a bottle of wine but now she has to see her ex. Spencer Fucking Reid. The man who built her up only to cheat on her emotionally and then tear her down. “Fuck, kid-” Robby’s cut off by her shaking her head. The last thing she needs is Robby sending someone else with Whitaker and then this becoming the new hot gossip.

“I’ll be fine,” she tells him before looking around, “Whitaker!” She waves him over and he hands her the patient chart, the duo making their way over to the team. Emily is the first one to spot her, eyebrows furrowed and biting her bottom lip, all actions the brunette was familiar with very well. She nudges Morgan beside her who nearly drops his drink. Yeah they haven’t seen her for 6 years but damn does she look better than ever.

“(Y/n)..how have you been?” Emily was the first one to speak up, wincing a little as she did so and that did’t go unnoticed by both doctors as Whitaker immediately began to ask Emily questions before deducing that she had bruised ribs, a concussion and would need a x-ray and CT scan, just to make sure there isn’t underlying damage. She pretended to not feel the heated glare from a certain tall, lanky brunette piercing the side of her face as she gently held Hotch’s face in her hands, making sure that it wasn’t broken.

“Are you always this silent, doctor?” Spencer’s question cut the air sharply, his voice nearly suffocating her. He spat out the word doctor as if it were a slur and maybe to him, it was. The young doctor eyed him sharply, choosing to bite her tongue and not cause a scene, especially here.

Spencer Reid however, could not keep his mouth shut, even after he got the glaringly angry stare from Aaron Hotchner.

“You know, I always imagined you to be surrounded by the soft glow of a delivery room. This fluorescent nightmare suits you though. Stark, cold, and sterile…just like you.” His words cut deeply into the doctor and she pauses what she’s doing, letting Whitaker take over.

“And you haven’t changed a little. 6 damn years Doctor Reid and you’re still the man I left.” She hisses back, arms crossed against her chest and the fluorescent light catches the stone on her ring finger, Spencer’s eyes darting towards it momentarily as he scoffs.

“I’m surprised you managed to lock anyone down with your attitude.” Spencer hisses and before (Y/n) can say anything else Frank enters the room, sensing the hostile environment his eyes dart between the short doctor and the tall lanky one.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice low and hesitant. To be honest, Frank didn’t give a flying damn about the other people in the room as long as his lovely fiancee was okay.

“Perfectly peachy…” She mutters, handing him the patient chart and making her way to have some cool down time. Robby caught her eye as she left, raising his eyebrow to ask if she’s okay to which she rolled her eyes. Not at him, no, at Spencer. He was a thorn in her side that she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how hard she tried.

The only place she could find dark and quiet enough was the break room. She was surprised no one was in there but grateful nonetheless. (Y/n) closed her eyes, needing to rest them for a minute before she heard the door open and close, hoping that it was someone just here to grab a quick snack. The sound of the chair being pulled out from across made her nervous and she hoped to god that it wasn’t Robby who followed her in.

“So..i heard the little spat you had.” Samira’s voice made the younger woman’s eyes snap open as she looked her best friend. She groaned, letting her head fall back. Samira patted her knee sympathetically. When (y/n) first started off at PTMC, she was matched into the OBGYN program before deciding that it wasn’t for her and switching into Trauma and since that day, her and Samira have been glued to the hip. Sisters in everything but blood or as Frank and the rest of the ER department likes to call them, work wives.

“I just don’t understand why he’d say that here, while I’m working. He doesn’t seem to realize that I’m not the same person I was 6 years ago but he still is.” She sighs, running a hand through her hair in frustration before tying it up again. Samira nods in undertsnding, also curious as to why such a hotshot profiler couldn’t be respectful to his ex at work.

(Y/n) pauses, looking at Samira and raising her eyebrow, “shouldn’t you be with patients?” Samira waves her off, telling her that Victoria was more than capable to be on her own for 15 minutes. The younger doctor nodded as they both sipped on a box of apple juice provided by Samira diligently. They sat together for 5 more minutes before Samira patted her shoulder and kissed her cheek before leaving, telling her to not lose her mindnfully. (Y/n) swatted at her best friend at that while laughing. She threw the empty apple juice box in the trash before leaving, sighing quietly.

“You disappeared for a bit.”

“Jesus fucking christ-” Frank’s laughter cut off her sentance as she swatted him on the shoulder, scolding him about scaring her. Frank stopped, looking at his baby seriously, taking her hand in his, “baby, are you okay?” Frank’s question made her fall silent, the warmth from his hand keeping her grounded. She looked up at him, mouth parted slightly, “Yeah Frankie, I’ll be okay.” She tells him yet her words fail to soothe Frank. He nods his head, kisses her forehead and tells her to kick ass in the ER before leaving to attened to his own duties.

“Hey, there you are.” Dennis exhales in relief. (Y/n) says a quick sorry and promises to make it up to him with some delicious donuts. Dennis smiles and tells her that it’s not a big deal and that the ‘scary law enforcement agents’ are all patched up and okay. She smiled brightly at him before patting his back as a thank you and made her way over to them. Out of everyone she missed Emily and Hotch the most. Emily was her Samira and Hotch her Robby.

“Hey.” Her voice was soft as she greeted Emily and Hotch, Spencer simply rolled his eyes, “Oh look, Princess here is finally over her temper tantrum and wants to be a doctor again.” All eyes snapped onto him the moment the words left his mouth.

“Jesus christ Spencer what’s your deal? It has been 6 damn years since we broke up. LET IT GO. You can’t come into MY workplace, antagonize me and then pray I don’t say anything. Because from what it looks like, you’re the only one that hasn’t moved in more than half a decade. Hot shot profiler and still can’t let go of the past. What’s next, are you going to start claiming that i haunt your nightmares or that I’m a witch who put a spell on you? MOVE ON!” Her snapping wasn’t on anyone’s list today except maybe Frank and Samira’s who passed a $20 bill to him. Robby and Dana just looked at eachother, Dana hiding her face behind an ipad but everyone could still see her shoulders shaking from laughter while Robby ran a hand down his face, trying to conceal his laughter as well. Trinity, Princess and Pearlah gossiped in Tagalog while Victora and Dennis looked like scared Victorian children seeing light.

Spencer could only look at her while scoffing. “Don’t scoff at me Spencer, leave the hospital. You’ve been treated and there’s no reason for you to stay.” She hissed out, not wanting to be disrespected any longer. Spencer looked at her for a second before he shoved his way out. If he wanted to act like a petulant child then he’ll be treated like one. Emily smiled at her and patted her arm, making a promise for them to catch up and left as well, the rest of the team following behind them.

(Y/n) sighed and made her way over to the nurses station where Dana and Robby stood watching her, a smile on Dana’s face. The younger of the three looked at them, exhaustion painting her face as clear as day as they all stared at eachother.

“No.”

“I-I didn’t even say anything.” Dana stuttered out with a smile on her face as she was met with a deadpan stare.

“You don’t have to. I can read your mind.” Dana’s smile didn’t waver and she just pulled the young doctor into a motherly side hug, kissing her forehead. She looked at Robby who looked at her, she gave him her signature ‘dad i swear i didn’t do anything wrong’ smile and he sighed for what felt like a millionth time.

“I am required to send you home, especially after an emotional outburst like that,” Robby paused, looking at her, his voice dropping into a whisper, “but since you’re my favourite resident ( daughter but he’d never admit that), you can stay. Just go take a 30.” At his words she tries not to squeal and gives Robby and overly exaggerated fist bump that he recepriocates awkwardly before heading to the break room.

“That’s quite a scene you caused there.” (Y/n) perked up at her fiance’s voice and teasing tone as he came to join her in the break room, he pulled the chair out beside her and sat down. She smiled at him and Frank took her hand in his own, letting it rest on his knee as he pushed her favourite sandwich towards her.

“I know you baby, and that means I know you haven’t eaten.” Frank tells her, going as far to unwrap the sandwich for her. One thing about Frank Langdon is that he will always take care and baby his fiancee, not because he thinks that she can’t take care of herself, no, because she works so damn hard and what type of man will he be if he doesn’t take care of her.

Unbeknownst to the couple, pair of eyes watched their interaction closely.

“How much do you want to bet she’ll be pregnant a year after marriage.” Pearlah asks Princess who shook her head.

“A year? Are you insane, it’ll be right after they get married.” Princess responded, her voice confident. Pearlah side eyed her for anminute before passing her a $50 bill, starting a whole new betting pool.

Tagging: @madeupinmyhead because I did “steal” this request from you

#frank Langdon x reader #frank Landon #the Pitt x reader #the Pitt #frank Langdon x reader fluff #dr robby x reader #Dana Evans #micheal robinavitch #samira mohan #the pitt hbo #fluff #angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x reader angst #frank Langdon fluff #Spencer Reid angst

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rosemaryhoney27 · 2 days ago

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Gotham's sunshine child part 3

“You Mess With Him, You Answer to Gotham”

It started with a bruised lip.

Just a little thing. A split at the corner of Danny’s mouth and a faint scuff on his cheek.

To anyone else, it might have gone unnoticed. Gotham’s a rough place—people get bruised all the time. But Red Hood noticed. And Red Hood didn’t do unnoticed.

Jason found him in the East End, same as always, seated cross-legged on a crate behind a laundromat. A trio of tiny kids were gathered around him, Danny animatedly explaining long division on the back of a pizza box.

He didn’t flinch when Jason dropped down from the fire escape, but the moment he turned and Jason saw the bruise… something in him snapped.

“Who,” Jason growled, voice low and steady, “put their hands on you?”

Danny blinked. “Huh?”

“Your face.” Jason pointed. “Don’t play dumb, kid. What happened?”

Danny hesitated. “Oh. That. Nothing serious. Some guy didn’t like that I told him not to harass the waitress at DeeDee’s Diner. He shoved me. It’s fine.”

Jason did not think it was fine.

Jason thought it was the opposite of fine.

Jason made sure the kids were safe and left.

The man in question was later found duct-taped to a lamppost in nothing but his underwear and a bright pink sign reading “I HARASS WAITRESSES AND HIT KIDS” in glittery marker. No one saw a thing. The waitress got her tips covered for the month.

When Danny found out, he sighed.

“Jason.”

“I’m just saying,” Red Hood replied, smug behind his helmet, “Gotham’s got your back.”

It became a thing after that.

Someone tried to scam Danny? A tech repair shop mysteriously had its Yelp rating obliterated overnight and got a surprise inspection from the fire department. Barbara swore she didn’t do it. Out loud.

A slumlord tried to evict a group of squatters Danny had quietly been helping? The building got “accidentally” donated to a housing nonprofit. Courtesy of one B. Wayne and some forged signatures Dick may or may not have acrobatically acquired.

Some idiot tried to rob Danny again?

They were found three alleys over with every shoelace tied to their belt loops and a very clear message written in ketchup: NOT HIM.

It wasn’t always the Bat-Family either.

Civilians got in on it. A fruit vendor started giving Danny free apples “because you remind me of my nephew.” A gang of teen taggers painted a mural of him near Blackgate, halo and all. An old lady on Danny’s usual bus route started crocheting him scarves “because your hoodie’s full of holes, sweetpea.”

Danny protested. A lot.

“You guys don’t have to do this,” he told the kids he tutored after they “accidentally” spilled soda on the shoes of a guy who’d cursed at Danny.

“Yeah, we do,” one of them replied, chin up and defiant. “You helped us. That’s worth something.”

Danny tried to argue.

They ignored him.

The tipping point came when someone—some fool—decided to try and kidnap him.

Some out-of-town gang. Didn’t know the rules. Thought he was just another soft face with no backup.

They tried to grab him outside the soup kitchen.

They never made it past the sidewalk.

In seconds, there were people there—staff, other volunteers, even a grumpy teen Danny had helped with math homework once. The gangsters got swarmed before they could blink. Cops showed up, baffled. The only evidence left behind was a pile of duct tape and a very traumatized rental van with a glitter bomb in the glove box.

Batgirl was first to respond.

“I wasn’t even needed,” she muttered afterward to Bruce. “It was… honestly kind of terrifying.”

Bruce didn’t say much. Just turned to Alfred and asked if the guest room closest to the kitchen could be made up. Again.

They tried again. A week later.

Only this time, the whole Bat-Family got involved.

Someone had clearly put out a bounty. Kidnapping. Alive. Big payout.

The team sprang into action.

Red Hood hit the streets like a hurricane.

Nightwing ran surveillance with Oracle, flagging known traffickers and suspicious activity.

Robin—Damian—gritted his teeth and snarled at Bruce: “We are adopting him. This is not up for debate.”

“I don’t think he’d let us,” Bruce admitted.

“Then we do it anyway.”

Danny was fine.

Of course he was.

He had a faint burn on one arm from phasing through a too-tight restraint, but otherwise? Fine. He’d shorted out the van’s electronics and ghosted through the floor while humming the SpongeBob theme. Because of course he did.

“Are you mad?” he asked when Bruce finally tracked him down.

Bruce just looked at him, jaw tight.

“You could’ve died.”

Danny shrugged. “Yeah. Again.”

“Danny.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—look, it’s okay. I can handle myself. Really.”

Bruce studied him for a long moment.

Then: “Next time, let us handle it.”

Danny opened his mouth.

“Gotham wants you safe,” Bruce added softly. “Not just me. Not just my family. All of us. So let us help. Please.”

For once, Danny didn’t argue.

He nodded, quietly.

“…Okay.”

That night, Danny stayed at the Manor. Just one night, he promised.

It turned into two.

Then three.

By the end of the week, Alfred had added “Danny’s Favorite Cereal” to the shopping list and Tim had programmed the Cave’s system to alert them of any pings on his name.

Bruce didn’t force anything.

But when Danny fell asleep on the couch during a movie night and Damian covered him with a blanket without comment?

Bruce started the paperwork.

Danny could dodge billionaires all he wanted.

But Gotham had already claimed him.

#dpxdc #danny fenton #danny phantom #jason todd #batman #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #cassandra cain

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seungisms · 5 hours ago

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thinking about chan and pussy worship. he could spend hours between your legs it it meant coaxing more of those cute little whimpers and gasps out of you when he’s playing with your pussy. he’s a little pathetic though, completely pussy whipped the second he spreads your thighs open with trembling hands, thumbing your folds apart to get a good view of your sticky centre and he swears he could’ve came right then and there.

sometimes he gets a little too impatient and can’t even be bothered to get you out of your underwear first, immediately smothering and nuzzling his nose against the drenched fabric of your panties so shamelessly that it has you whining out in embarrassment, pussy contracting around nothing the more he groans and slobbers into your clothed cunt. “i know, i’m sorry baby, jus’ smell so good. can’t imagine how you’re gonna taste,” before he’s cutting off your small begs by slipping your panties to the side, tongue immediately finding home between your folds. and he’s so greedy with it too, messily making out with your pussy and groaning and whimpering and slobbering until it’s just a sloppy mess of spit and cum. sometimes you swear he enjoys it more than you.

can’t seem to keep his mouth shut the whole time, so drunk on sweet taste of your cum, just making it harder for him to keep any type of composure - every stuttered gasp he lets out or deep groan he breaths against your clit making your tummy tighten with a familiar heat that has you bucking down against his face, nearly sobbing everytime he reluctantly pulls away for air - only to curse the most vile shit underneath his breath, fingers working their way into your pussy to replace the emptiness his lips left behind. “god, fuck. pussy so tight, don’t know how i’m gonna fit my cock in there.” while stretching you around his digits, curling them so deep inside of you it has you seeing stars, back arching off the bed just to force him even closer, begging for something thicker to fill you up.

and chan is so ready to give it to you too, but he can’t seem to tear himself away from you until you’re literally gripping him by the hair and forcing him off. and even then he’s just letting out a pathetic whimper and sinking right back in, the long tip of his nose bumping against your sensitive bud with every long press of his tongue, hot and wet against your sticky centre. can and will get off from eating you out alone. likes to get you so fucked out that you don’t even know what’s happening anymore, dragging his lips against your dripping nub until your eyes are rolling into the back of your skull and your pussy is throbbing, unable to take what he’s giving you, not noticing the small rut of his hips against the bed where he lay between your legs, hard cock pressing painfully into the mattress, swollen and red and just begging to finally be buried deep into your plush cunt.

talks you through it, watching the way your eyes gloss over and jaw goes slack from his torment on your clit, all words being ripped from your throat as he stimulates your tortured cunt again and again. “that’s it baby, tell me who owns this pussy.” and he really does get off on the fact that you can never seem to respond, body gone limp beneath him and seeking nothing more than to finally paint his pretty lips in more of your arousal. “aw, my pretty baby, you’ve done so well. let me have a little more fun with you then i’ll leave you alone.”

#wrote this in like an hour and kinda hate it but i just can’t seem to get my thoughts together when it comes to this man 🤤#stray kids smut #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #chan smut #chan x reader #blurbs

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tikitakatia · 1 day ago

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Under Watch — A. Putellas x Reader

"You´re Late"

WC: 1.4k

Summary: You’re hired to protect her but she’s reckless, untouchable, and wants nothing to do with you.

The first time you met her was in a hallway.

She’s already late. Cleats in one hand, hoodie slung low, hair still damp from the shower. She’s got that just-finished-practice glow: skin flushed, breath still a little quick, body loose in a way that says she just spent an hour tearing up the field.

She doesn’t look dangerous. But she is.

Not in the way your briefing warned about, no wild-eyed stalkers or coded threats here. Not yet. She’s dangerous in the way she moves like nothing can touch her. Like if the building crumbled around her, she’d walk out of the dust without a scratch. There’s a kind of recklessness in her that doesn’t read as careless, it reads as power.

She stops a few paces from you and looks you up and down. That’s intentional. Every part of her is practiced, the cock of her head, the slow drag of her eyes, the way she lets the silence stretch just a little too long before she speaks.

“You’re the bodyguard?” she says, unimpressed on purpose.

You nod once.

She sighs. Loud. Theatrical. “This is ridiculous.”

Another nod. Slower this time.

You don’t explain yourself. That’s not your job.

She mutters something under her breath and turns away. Her voice follows her as she walks.

“What do they think is gonna happen? I trip over a ball and need saving?”

You follow. Quietly. That part is your job.

She slouches in her seat during the security briefing like she’s doing the club a favor just by being there. One foot up on the table, twirling a pen between her fingers, face locked in that unimpressed athlete expression she wears like armor.

The head of security goes over it all again. The notes. The photos. The fact that one of them was left on her locker and no one saw who did it. Another showed up two days later. No fingerprints. Just words. Messy, threatening, graphic.

Too many people know where she trains, where she eats, where she lives. Too many eyes on her at all times. She’s high-profile. Always careful with her words. Polished. Politically correct. She knows how to play the media game and never slips, at least not publicly. But lately, someone’s been trying to push her off balance and get under her skin.

You’re not assigned to investigate. You’re there to be the barrier. The buffer. The human shield.

She doesn’t look at you once during the meeting. But she knows you’re watching.

At lunch, she sits two tables away with her teammates. Tosses her head back in a laugh that’s too loud, too staged.

Then leans into the physio and says, “She stares too much.”

The physio glances at you. You don’t blink.

You’re not trying to intimidate her. Not consciously. But you don’t look away either. You’re paid to see everything.

She bites into an apple and smiles like she’s won something.

That evening, she tries the back gate. You don’t need cameras to know it. You already clocked her angle the second she cut out of the hallway with her phone pressed too casually to her ear.

You’re leaning against the car by the time she gets there.

She halts and doesn’t bother to hide her frustration. Instead, she frowns like a teenager caught sneaking out past curfew.

“Do you ever take breaks?” she asks.

You say nothing. Just open the passenger door and wait.

She slides in, arms crossed. No seatbelt. You don’t start the engine. You wait.

The silence stretches. Long enough for her to shift in her seat. Tap her fingers on her thigh. Glance your way once. Twice.

Twenty-three seconds, you count.

“Okay, what, is this your way of interrogating me?”

Still, you don’t respond.

She mutters under her breath, clicks her seatbelt into place.

The engine starts.

She doesn’t speak for the rest of the ride. But when she gets out, she slams the door just hard enough to make a point.

The first real conversation happens on day four.

She’s supposed to be at a press junket. You find her in the equipment room, legs swinging off a crate, scrolling her phone like she’s waiting for the universe to give her an excuse to skip it entirely.

“You’re late,” you say.

She doesn’t look up. “It’s boring.”

“You have a schedule.”

She shrugs. “So adjust it.”

You don’t move.

She lets the silence drag for a while before finally looking at you. Really looking.

“Do you ever lighten up? Pareces mi sombra.” she says the nickname slowly, as if trying to see how she likes the feel of it in her mouth.

You sigh. Not loud. Not annoyed. Just… necessary.

She grins. Slow and sharp. “That’s a yes.”

From that moment on, you’re Sombrita.

She uses it everywhere. Says it with a smirk, like it’s an inside joke only she’s in on. She teases you with it in front of the others. Whispers it under her breath as she walks past.

You don’t correct her.

She knows your coffee order by the end of the week even though you never told her. Hands it to you without fanfare one morning. Just a paper cup and a look. Like she’s waiting for something to break.

It doesn’t. Not on the outside.

She wanders into a crowd of fans, photographers and noise. You’re beside her before she realizes she’s drifted too far.

She veers off schedule. You’re at the next checkpoint without a word.

Eventually, she starts pretending you don’t exist. But narrates your presence like it’s a game.

“And here comes mi sombrita,” she says once, as you appear in a doorway.

“Silently judging my existence.”

Her teammates laugh. She watches you from the corner of her eye.

You never laugh back.

The third time she tries to ditch you, it’s raining.

She slips out a side door after training, hoodie pulled up, steps quiet. Like she’s testing you again.

You find her half a block away, hands jammed in her pockets, shoulders hunched.

You reach out, catch her arm. Gentle, but firm.

“Don’t.”

She startles, pulls back.

“Jesus. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

“You’re not cleared to leave alone.”

“I’m going to get coffee.”

“Take me with you.”

She scoffs. “I’m not five.”

You hold her gaze. Calm. Unflinching.

“I know.”

Something in your tone slows her down. Makes her look at you like she’s seeing you for the first time.

She doesn’t argue again.

You’ve guarded politicians, CEOs, criminals with targets on their backs. You’ve been shot at, stalked, followed.

None of them ever looked at you like this.

Like they’re waiting for you to crack. Like they want to know what’s behind the armor.

You avoid reacting. That’s protocol.

She makes it difficult.

You’re at your usual post in the lobby when she appears beside you without a sound.

"Ever wonder if you’re the threat?" she asks, eyes fixed ahead.

You turn your head. She’s closer than she should be. Close enough to count her lashes.

“Every day,” you say.

You step back before she can respond.

For once, she doesn’t have a comeback.

Two weeks in, she pushes too far.

It’s post-match chaos. Adrenaline. She’s been fouled hard, and it shows. She barrels past you, muttering curses under her breath, knocks over a table full of water bottles. The PR team flinches.

You follow. Not too close. Just enough.

She stops. Spins on you.

“You gonna give me a time-out now?”

You don’t answer.

“Maybe call my mom? Tell her I’m being difficult?”

Still silent.

“Seriously Sombra, what’s the endgame here? You gonna follow me into the shower next?”

You cross your arms. Don’t flinch.

She storms past. “Fuck you.”

Your voice follows her. Low. Steady.

“I don’t care if you like me. I care if you stay alive.”

She stops mid-step and the hallway holds its breath.

“I don’t need saving.” She says quietly.

You say nothing.

This time, she walks away slower.

You don’t follow right away.

The next morning, she strolls into training like nothing happened. Yawns too loud. Tosses a ball toward your feet like it’s a peace offering disguised as mockery.

You pick it up. Toss it back.

No words.

She grins like she won something.

Maybe she did.

She disappears after a match. For thirty minutes, your pulse climbs by degrees. You check every room. Sweep the perimeter. Quiet panic simmering under your skin.

You find her outside. Alone on a bench. Hoodie pulled up, headphones in, eyes closed.

You sit beside her. Not close. Just there.

She doesn’t look at you. Doesn’t move.

“You’re late,” she murmurs.

You sigh.

Of course she notices.

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missmadella · 1 day ago

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"How they react when they get called by their full Name" // Tokyo Revengers

Charakters: Mikey, Sanzu, Kokonoi, Mitsuya, Chifuyu, Kazutora, Ran, Rindou, Izana

Synopsis: There’s one thing every Tokyo Rev boy knows: when you drop their full name — first and last — they’ve seriously screwed up. It could be a forgotten date, a stolen dessert, a jealous outburst, or just plain stupidity, but once that name leaves your lips? Oh, they feel it.

CW: Light cursing, jealousy/possessiveness, mild violence (slaps, fights), flirty teasing,emotional tension

Mikey (Manjiro Sano):

The sun was beginning to dip behind the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the Musashi Shrine. The old Toman gang had gathered there, much like they always did, lounging on the steps and chatting about their plans for the next big move. Mikey stood at the forefront, his jacket casually draped over his shoulders as he began to talk about the upcoming fight with another gang. Draken, always close behind him, kept an eye on the rest of the group, ensuring no one got too rowdy.

Suddenly, his gaze shifted as he noticed movement near the shrine stairs. At first, he couldn’t make out who it was — the person was still too far away. But when a loud, clear “MANJIRO SANO” echoed across the quiet shrine, he knew exactly who it was.

The whole group froze.

Heads turned in unison, eyes wide as they realized it was none other than Mikey’s girlfriend — and she was not happy.

Draken’s eyes flicked to Mikey, who had stopped mid-sentence, his smirk fading into something more cautious. You walked through the crowd of Toman members, your steps deliberate and filled with an icy determination. The guys instinctively parted to make room, stepping aside like a wave in front of you.

“Mikey, what the hell...” Mitsuya, one of the vice-captains, started to speak, but the instant your angry glare landed on him, he went silent. His words died in his throat, and he wisely shut up, not wanting to get between you and whatever had set you off.

Everyone knew who Mikey’s “wife” was — that teasing nickname for you when you and Mikey went official. And normally, you were the sweetest girl anyone could meet. The kind of girl they'd run into on a late-night walk down the city, smiling and saying hello to everyone. But the guys also knew that when you were angry, nobody wanted to be near you. You didn’t need to use your fists to make your point. Your words were sharp enough to cut through anything.

And in that moment, every single one of them could tell that Mikey had messed up big time. Especially when you called him by his full name.

You reached the stairs where Mikey stood, the air around you heavy with the tension that had suddenly gripped the whole shrine. You didn’t shout — you didn’t need to. Your cold gaze alone sent a wave of fear through him. With barely a whisper, you spoke. “Where is my dorayaki that was on my counter this morning?”

The moment you asked, Mikey’s face paled slightly, and his usual confident demeanor cracked, just enough for Draken to notice the shift. He watched as Mikey's eyes darted around, his lips twitching, unsure of how to respond.

“Baby… I don’t… know what you’re talking about,” Mikey said, his voice a little shakier than usual — nothing loud enough for the others to catch, but Draken saw it. Mikey was genuinely scared.

Your gaze never wavered. Your face remained hard, and you took a step closer, your eyes locked on his. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

The silence in the air was thick, and even the usual chatter between the Toman members had died down, everyone sensing that this was no ordinary disagreement. Mikey swallowed hard, his confident smirk gone. “Baby…”

The way you stood there — unmoving, your voice cold, your anger barely contained — made Mikey’s insides twist. The entire shrine had become a pressure cooker, and it felt like you were the only one in control.

He hesitated, then took a step closer, moving down a single stair. His eyes never left yours, but you stood firm, arms crossed tightly in front of your chest. “I’m sorry, baby,” Mikey said, his voice softer now. “I didn’t know those were yours.” He took another step toward you, trying to ease the tension, his usual carefree attitude replaced with a hint of concern.

Big mistake.

Without warning, you lunged forward, grabbing his ear in a swift motion. “How dare you eat my sweets?” you hissed, your grip firm enough to make him wince. “I’d been looking forward to that all day, Manjiro.”

His face contorted in pain, but it was the way you were looking at him — that cold, steely gaze — that made him feel the full force of your anger. He knew he’d messed up, and now he was paying the price.

“I’m sorry, princess,” Mikey groaned, wincing under your tight grip. “I swear, they were making fun of me, telling me I should eat them. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal. I’ll never do it again.”

But you weren’t having any of it. The pain in his ear intensified as you squeezed harder. “Don’t. Ever. Do. That. Again.”

Finally, with a final, sharp tug, you let go of his ear. It was red, and Mikey winced as he rubbed it, his eyes still apologetic. But before you could even begin to walk away, Mikey quickly grabbed your wrist, holding you in place.

You shot him a glare, making it clear with a look that he needed to think very carefully about what he was doing next. “Let go of me,” you muttered, your voice low but threatening.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” Mikey murmured, his voice softening as he pulled you closer, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You closed your eyes at the sensation, your body relaxing just a little bit as your frustration started to melt away. A heavy sigh left your lips as you opened your eyes, staring at him again. “You better make it up to me, or you can sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Ouch,” Draken heard Chifuyu mutter under his breath, a small laugh following. The tension in the air had slightly lifted, but it was clear Mikey wasn’t off the hook yet.

“I won’t do it again,” Mikey promised, his voice soft and sincere. His grip on your wrist loosened as his hand moved gently to your face. “But please… don’t call me by my first name again. I’m sorry, baby.”

Before you could say anything, Mikey leaned down and kissed you softly on the lips. It was warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the anger that had flared moments ago. You kissed him back, your hand moving to the side of his face, your thumb gently caressing his cheek.

“If you ever do this again,” you warned, pulling back slightly but keeping your hand on his face, “I will be your worst nightmare.”

Mikey smirked, his usual cocky confidence returning — just a little bit — as he leaned down to kiss you again. This time, the kiss was brief but meaningful, and when you pulled away, you dropped onto the last step of the shrine, sitting down with a sigh.

Mikey removed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders with a small, playful smile. “Alright, I’m gonna finish the meeting now. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

With that, Mikey turned back to the group, his usual carefree attitude settling back into place, but he kept a soft smile on his face, knowing he’d narrowly escaped a much worse fate.

___________________________________________________________________________

Sanzu Haruchiyo:

The Bonten boardroom was thick with tension — dark suits, whispered strategies, and Mikey’s dead-eyed stare at the head of the table.

Sanzu leaned back in his seat, legs kicked up on the polished wood, twirling a butterfly knife in his fingers like the meeting was background noise. Casual, cocky — typical.

That is, until the doors slammed open with a force that made Koko flinch and Rindou instinctively reach for his gun.

Every head turned.

And there you were.

Hair wind-blown, heels echoing like gunshots, expression locked in one single mood: rage.

You didn’t even glance at the others — your eyes zeroed in on one person only.

"Haruchiyo. Sanzu."

His knife stilled mid-spin.

He blinked. Tilted his head.

“Ohhh?” he drawled, an unstable grin curling onto his lips. “Full name… in front of my coworkers? What’d I do this time, doll?”

You marched right up to him and — crack.

The slap rang out, sharp and echoing. The room went dead silent. Even Mikey raised an eyebrow.

Sanzu didn’t move. Just slowly turned his head back toward you, a red mark blooming on his cheek — and a completely unhinged smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

That did not help.

“Don’t you dare,” you growled, eyes blazing. “You forgot. You forgot our anniversary, Haruchiyo. You left me sitting alone at a reservation you made, looking like an idiot. You’ve done a lot of reckless shit, but this—this is what I don’t forgive.”

Sanzu opened his mouth to joke again, but one look at your face — how your voice wavered just slightly at the end — and something actually clicked.

He stood slowly, grin slipping into something more serious. His usual cockiness twisted with confusion and guilt.

“I—shit,” he muttered. “I didn’t forget, I just—no. No, I did forget.”

You scoffed, turned on your heel.

“I’m done. Don’t worry — you’ll have time to spin your knife and play gangster without having to think about me ever again.”

You were almost to the door when Mikey spoke — quietly, but with weight.

“Sanzu.”

He froze.

“If you don’t fix this in the next ten minutes, don’t come back to the table.”

Everyone else stayed silent. They knew what that meant.

Sanzu blinked at his boss, then at you. He dragged a hand down his face. Then he was moving — fast.

You didn’t make it to the elevator.

A hand caught your wrist, not rough but firm.

“Wait,” he said, and for once, his voice wasn’t teasing. It was low. Serious. “I messed up. I know I did. You wanna break my nose next? Fine. You want a real apology? Give me tonight. Just tonight. I’ll fix it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“I should walk out.”

“But you haven’t,” he said softly, tugging you closer, his other hand cradling the side of your face — right where your anger had turned his cheek red. “Which means I’ve still got a chance.”

You didn’t answer.

He leaned closer.

“Let me take you somewhere. Right now. Fuck the meeting. Mikey already said I’m screwed either way.”

You bit your lip. Still furious. Still hurt.

But his eyes — sharp, wild, pleading — were locked on yours like nothing else in the world mattered.

“…One chance,” you muttered.

“That’s all I need.”

And with that, he dragged you out by the hand — past a stunned Bonten, past Mikey’s amused smirk — ready to blow more money than sense fixing the night he should’ve never forgotten.

___________________________________________________________________________

Kokonoi Hajime:

Your afternoon was peaceful — warm tea, a half-read book, and your favorite playlist humming in the background.

Then your phone buzzed.

One alert. Then two. Then three.

“Transaction approved: ¥1,850,000 – Interior Luxury Aquatics.” “Your Bonten BlackCard was used at ‘KoiWorld Tokyo’.” “Estimated delivery scheduled for this evening.”

You stared at your phone, blinking slowly like it might explain itself.

It did not.

Instead, it showed a picture of a koi pond with custom underwater lighting, soundproof filtration, and a caption that read:

“Perfect centerpiece for a modern bathroom space.”

You stood up so fast your tea nearly spilled.

And you marched straight into the living room, already yelling.

“Hajime Kokonoi!”

He was lounging like royalty — silk pajama pants, socks mismatched (as always), hair perfectly in place even though he’d clearly done nothing all day. The TV was on but muted, and he was scrolling through his tablet like a man deep in international finance — or TikTok, it was hard to tell with him.

At the sound of his full name, he froze.

Then looked up, slow and cautious. “...Was it something I bought? Or something I said while half-asleep? Be honest. I need context before I defend myself.”

You held up your phone like a prosecutor presenting evidence. “A koi pond, Hajime?”

He tilted his head. “Ah. The koi pond.”

“Oh, there are others?”

“No. Not yet. But imagine the possibilities.”

You gave him a look that could set fire to expensive wallpaper. “In the guest bathroom?”

“Listen, listen, I thought it through. It’s the smallest bathroom, right? So guests don’t spend too long in there scrolling through TikTok. But if you give them a calming aquatic feature to look at while they—”

“—you’re describing bathroom fish therapy right now.”

“Exactly! You get it!” He beamed like he’d invented sliced bread. “It’s innovation, babe.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “We agreed — no more extravagant impulse buys without telling each other. You promised after the rotating crystal gin shelf.”

“But that one was sick. Admit it.”

“It plays Beyoncé when it opens.”

“Luxury,” he said, dead serious.

You paced the room, already imagining poor houseguests slipping on wet tiles while koi fish stared them down in judgment. “This isn’t about fish, Hajime. This is about you not listening. Again. You can’t fix a boring bathroom by throwing seven fish in it and hoping for ambiance.”

He rose from the couch, holding his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you. Maybe it was a little… extra.”

“A little?”

“They gave me a discount if I named one of the koi after myself.”

You stared. “You’re putting a fish in a bathroom and naming it Hajime?”

“Well, I was... but I’ll rename him if it’ll help my case. What about... ‘I’m sorry’?”

You were trying so hard not to laugh, and he knew it. He stepped closer, slipping his arms around your waist as your resolve crumbled slightly.

“Babe,” he said softly, brushing a kiss against your temple, “I’ll cancel the installation if it really bothers you. Or I’ll move it to the terrace. Or build the koi a private spa in the guest bedroom. Whatever you want.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“But I’m cute,” he added with a wink.

You sighed. “If I ever see you spending seven figures on fish again, I’m calling you Hajime in front of Mikey. In front of everyone.”

He gasped. “That’s cold.”

“Even colder than koi water.”

“Okay, now that was hot. Use that in bed later.”

You smacked his arm, but you were laughing now. And he was grinning like a man who knew exactly how to get away with murder (and koi ponds).

___________________________________________________________________________

Mitsuya Takashi:

It was a quiet evening in the Mitsuya household. The living room was glowing warm with fairy lights, soft music hummed from the record player, and the faint scent of freshly brewed tea drifted from the kitchen.

You were sitting on the couch, waiting.

Waiting… and waiting.

The lasagna you had lovingly made was slowly getting cold, the table set with care — candles, folded napkins, even that dumb little place card he always laughed about that said “Takashi ”.

But he was late.

Not just ten-minutes-late.

We’re talking an hour and twenty-seven minutes late, and he hadn’t even texted.

You were just about to wrap the food up in cling wrap out of pure spite when the front door clicked open.

You didn’t even look up when you heard the soft, familiar thud of his boots being kicked off.

“Baaabe, I’m home—”

“Takashi Mitsuya.”

The way you said it — calm, measured, yet dangerously poised — made him freeze in the doorway, jacket half-off one arm.

He blinked. “...Oh. Wow. The full name.”

You finally turned around.

He looked guilty as hell.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Forgot?”

You crossed your arms.

Mitsuya walked slowly into the room, holding up both hands like you were a wild animal he didn’t want to spook. “Okay, in my defense—”

“You promised,” you said, voice soft but stern. “You literally promised you'd be home on time. And I didn’t even burn the lasagna this time.”

He winced. “I know. I know. Toman meeting ran late, then I got caught up helping Hakkai fix a shirt for his date, and then I couldn’t find my phone in all the fabric and—yeah, okay, I’m gonna stop talking.”

You stared for a moment longer before turning away, muttering, “It’s fine. I should’ve expected it. You’re the one who’s always taking care of everyone.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then:

“...Is this the part where you scold me more? Or kiss me?”

You blinked, turning slowly.

Mitsuya was grinning now — boyish and warm, clearly testing the waters, but sincere under it all. “Because you only ever call me Takashi Mitsuya when it’s one of those.”

You tried not to smile. Tried.

“Depends. Do you think you deserve a kiss right now?”

He walked right up to you, slipping his arms around your waist and leaning his forehead against yours.

“I deserve a chance to earn one,” he said softly.

You exhaled a little laugh, eyes half-lidded. “You always say the right thing.”

“I sew for a living, baby. I know how to thread things carefully.”

“Gross.”

“You love it.”

You did. So much it hurt sometimes.

You leaned up and kissed him — just once — before whispering near his ear, “You’re heating up that lasagna yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh — and dishes too.”

He groaned dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “You really know how to punish a man.”

“You forgot our dinner date. I’m letting you off easy.”

“I know. And I’m grateful.” He paused, pulling back with a soft smile. “But don’t stop calling me by my full name. It sounds really hot when you’re mad.”

You rolled your eyes and walked away — but not before tossing back a teasing, “Takashi Mitsuya, you’re impossible.”

His grin was full of love.

And this time, he didn't miss dinner.

__________________________________________________________________________

Chifuyu Matsuno:

You had left the apartment for thirty minutes.

Just thirty.

Enough time to grab your package from the post office, pick up snacks, and come back to what was supposed to be a chill movie night.

What you came back to instead... was chaos.

There was flour. Everywhere.

The cat — who looked like it had fought in the Great Pastry War — bolted past you with a string of dough wrapped around its leg. The TV was paused on a baking tutorial. The counters were stacked with bowls, some with batter, one suspiciously empty, and—

Oh no.

“CHIFUYU MATSUNO.”

A loud bang echoed from the kitchen.

You stormed in, and there he was: wide-eyed, mid-mixer, flour smudged on his cheek, apron crooked, and a cake that had clearly imploded in the oven behind him.

He blinked. “Okay, so—”

“Don’t you ‘okay, so’ me.”

“Before you get mad—”

“I left you alone for half an hour. I asked you to boil pasta. Not—what is this? A Great British Bake-Off rejection arc?”

He pointed to the collapsed cake like it betrayed him personally. “That was supposed to be a surprise! I was trying to make that caramel lava thing you said looked good—”

“By summoning Satan into the batter?”

He scratched the back of his head, sheepish. “...It did make a weird noise.”

You stared, exasperated beyond words. “And the cat?”

“Okay, the cat part wasn’t me. Technically. I dropped the cream. She jumped in.”

“Chifuyu, she looks like a haunted marshmallow.”

He stepped forward, laughing nervously, reaching out to brush flour off your jacket like that would somehow make up for it. “But babe... I did it for you.”

“You did arson in my kitchen for me?”

“Not arson! It’s creative expression!”

“You lit an oven mitt on fire!”

“Small fire. Controlled. Kinda.” His eyes sparkled with that grin that made you weak in the knees and homicidal at the same time. “But I mean... you’re not that mad, right?”

You raised your brows.

He smirked. “Because you called me Chifuyu Matsuno. Which you only do when you’re two seconds from either throwing me out the window or kissing me.”

“Guess which one I’m leaning toward.”

He leaned in, pressing a quick floury kiss to your cheek. “Kiss, obviously. You can’t resist me when I’m covered in catastrophe.”

You sighed, letting your forehead rest against his. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know. Now help me clean this up and I’ll order your favorite ramen. Double miso, no mushrooms.”

“Fine. But you’re on cat-cleanup duty.”

Chifuyu looked over at the flour-coated feline, now trying to eat a whisk.

“...I deserve that.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Kazutora Hanemiya:

You hadn’t meant to yell.

You hadn’t even meant to cry.

But when Kazutora walked in that night — shoulders slumped, knuckles red, hoodie pulled low to hide the bruising on his jaw — something inside you snapped.

He hadn’t answered your calls. Not one.

Hours of silence.

And then he just showed up, like he hadn’t disappeared again. Like he didn’t know what that kind of silence did to someone who loved him.

You stood there in the dim light of the apartment, arms crossed tightly, trying to hold yourself together as the door clicked shut behind him.

And then it happened.

“Kazutora Hanemiya.”

He flinched. Visibly.

The sound of his full name — sharp, deliberate, and full of everything you were holding back — cut through the room like a knife.

He didn’t look up at first. Didn’t meet your eyes.

“You didn’t call. You didn’t text. I thought—” You swallowed hard. “I thought something happened.”

He dropped his bag wordlessly by the door.

“I told you,” you said, quieter now, voice thick, “I told you the last time — I can’t go through that kind of fear again. Not from you. Not when I—”

He finally looked up.

And god, his eyes were tired.

Not physically — but in that way Kazutora always got when his mind spiraled too fast for him to grab onto anything stable. That distant, fragile expression that said I don't know how to stay, even when I want to.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he murmured. “I lost control again. And I just... I didn’t want to ruin the one good thing I have.”

You blinked away tears. “So your solution was to disappear? Do you know what that does to me?”

He took a shaky step forward, hands half-raised like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.

“I’m not used to someone worrying about me,” he said, broken-soft. “Not like you do.”

You finally let out a breath that felt like it had been sitting in your chest for hours. “Then get used to it, Kazutora. Because I’m not going anywhere. But I need you to stop running like I’m going to disappear the second you mess up.”

He stared at you like you were the only solid thing in a world that always shifted beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I just... I get scared.”

You stepped toward him, gently placing your hand on his bruised cheek. “So do I. Every time you shut down like this.”

“I’ll try,” he breathed. “For you.”

You nodded, eyes softening. “And stop flinching when I say your full name. I only do it when I need you to listen.”

“I hear you,” he said, eyes closing as he leaned into your palm. “I hear you now.”

And in that quiet room, he finally let himself fall — not into chaos, not into guilt — but into you.

And for once, he didn’t run.

_________________________________________________________________________

Ran Haitani:

The night had started out like any other, with Ran’s usual charm and swagger as he wrapped you in his arms and promised to make it home on time. He even kissed you goodbye with that mischievous grin that made your heart race.

But now, here you were — standing alone in the dimly lit apartment, the cool silence pressing down on you as the hours ticked by.

Your patience had worn thin.

You had trusted him, even though you knew how unpredictable things could get when his brother, Rindou, was involved. You trusted that he would be there when he said he would.

But as the clock struck midnight, that familiar feeling settled in the pit of your stomach — the feeling that Ran wasn’t coming home.

Not again.

You were done being patient. Done waiting for a man who promised the world and never quite delivered. And so, with a heavy sigh, you grabbed your coat and stormed out the door.

You didn’t know where you were going, but you knew you needed answers.

When you arrived at the underground club, where you knew Ran usually wound up after a Toman meeting, the last thing you expected to see was him sitting in a corner booth — alone. His head was tilted back, staring up at the ceiling as if the world didn’t matter.

Your heart skipped a beat, and every step toward him felt like a weight you couldn’t shake.

You were angry. You were hurt. But mostly, you were tired.

As soon as you reached the booth, Ran’s eyes flicked toward you, and for a brief moment, you could see the shock on his face. His perfect smile faltered.

“Y/N?” His voice was low, and there was something about the way he said your name — like it was the first time he was seeing you in forever. But you didn’t want to hear his soft tone anymore.

“Ran Haitani,” you said, your voice cutting through the thick air like a blade. The use of his full name — not the teasing “Ran” or the quiet “baby” you usually called him — hit him harder than any punch.

His brows furrowed, and he stood up slowly. “Babe... what’s wrong?”

You glared at him, taking a step closer, voice shaking with both fury and raw emotion. “What’s wrong? What’s wrong, Ran? You’re what’s wrong.”

He recoiled slightly, as if the force of your words physically struck him.

“I don’t know why I keep letting you hurt me,” you continued, your voice rising in volume. “You make promises, and then you break them. You show up late, and when you finally do, you expect me to just forget that you were never here. You expect me to wait around like everything is fine.”

Ran’s eyes softened, and he reached out to you, but you pulled back before he could touch you. His hand froze in mid-air, a silent apology hanging between you.

You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a near-whisper, but there was still so much fire in it. “You think you’re the only one with a past full of mistakes, don’t you? You think I don’t know what it’s like to be scared of falling — to be scared that I’m not enough, or that you’ll just leave like everyone else?”

He closed the space between you, finally taking your hands in his with an urgency that made your heart skip. “Y/N, I never wanted to hurt you. But I do.”

His confession was raw, too much to take in at once, and for a moment, you couldn’t even breathe.

“I try. I really do. But when I get caught up in all the shit — with Rindou, with Toman... with everything I’ve built around myself — I forget what matters most. You. You matter the most.”

You didn’t know if you should believe him. You didn’t know if you could let him back in without getting hurt again.

“Don’t shut me out, Y/N,” Ran whispered, voice hoarse, hands tightening around yours. “Not again. I can’t lose you.”

The tension in the room thickened, but then Ran did something you didn’t expect. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly. His breath was warm against your neck, his heart pounding against your chest.

“Please... don’t leave me.” His voice cracked, and you felt it deep in your soul.

You didn’t push him away. You didn’t pull back.

Because despite everything, you didn’t want to lose him either.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the only sound between you the quiet thrum of his heartbeat, his arms keeping you close as if you might slip away if he didn’t hold you tight enough.

And then, with his forehead resting against yours, he murmured softly, “I know I messed up. But I swear, Y/N, I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m yours.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling the breath you’d been holding. “You better. Because I won’t be here forever if you keep doing this to me.”

Ran’s lips gently pressed to your forehead, his voice full of sincerity. “I know. And I won’t give you a reason to walk away again. I’ll make it right, I promise.”

And in that moment, with all the weight of his past and yours hanging in the air, you allowed yourself to believe him.

___________________________________________________________________________

Rindou Haitani:

It was supposed to be a calm, easy evening. You and Rindou had been planning a low-key night, just the two of you. No Bonten meetings. No wild distractions. Just takeout and a movie.

But as usual, things never went according to plan when Rindou was involved.

The door slammed open. There he was — looking like a mess.

You had barely taken a bite of your food before your phone buzzed with an unknown number.

“Where are you?” it read. “Don't wait up for me.”

That was it.

You hadn’t seen him for hours, and now he was texting you this?

By the time he came back home, you were already on edge. You had done your best to keep cool, but when Rindou walked in with a smug grin on his face, late as usual, you had had enough.

You didn’t even look up from the couch. You were too busy staring at your phone, pretending you weren’t fuming.

“What, no welcome home kiss?” Rindou teased, swaggering into the living room. He tossed his jacket over the back of a chair and cracked his neck. “Aren’t you glad to see me?”

And that was when it happened.

“Rindou Haitani.”

The words came out sharper than you intended, and you instantly saw the flicker of shock in his eyes. He froze, his playful smirk faltering as he processed your tone.

He blinked. “Full name now? Damn, I really messed up this time, huh?”

You stood up, your body trembling with barely contained anger. “You disappear for hours, and when you finally show up, you think you can just—” You threw your hands up in the air. “You think you can just act like it’s nothing? Like I’m just supposed to keep waiting around while you do whatever the hell you want?”

Rindou chuckled nervously, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze now. “Hey, come on, don’t be like that. I was busy, okay? Things came up.”

“Busy?” You scoffed, taking a step closer to him. “You’re always busy, Rindou. With meetings, with Bonten, with whatever the hell else you’re involved in! You never have time for me anymore.”

The grin on his face faltered for a second, but it was quickly replaced by an almost defiant look. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “No. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to treat me like I’m nothing when I’ve been nothing but patient with you. I’m tired of being the afterthought, Rindou.”

And that was when it clicked for him. The words you had said, the weight in your voice — it was real.

But instead of apologizing, instead of stepping back, Rindou did something that took you completely off guard.

He reached out and yanked you toward him, pinning you against his chest. The surprise left your lips, but you didn’t have time to react before he kissed you.

It was a kiss full of desperation — lips crashing into yours as if he was trying to prove something. His hands were urgent, tugging at your shirt like he couldn’t quite get close enough.

You pushed against his chest, trying to break free, but the more you struggled, the tighter he held you. “Rindou, get off me—”

“No,” he muttered, his voice low, his grip on your waist firm. “I’m not letting you go this time.”

And it hit you like a wave. He wasn’t doing this out of arrogance — he was doing it because he didn’t know any other way to fix things.

Finally, you stopped fighting. The anger drained from your body, replaced with something softer — but still, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

You pulled away slightly, breathless. “You can’t keep doing this, Rindou. You can’t just waltz in here and think everything’s fine.”

He rested his forehead against yours, his fingers lightly brushing through your hair. “I know. I know. I’m an idiot, okay? I’m sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? Just a ‘sorry’? After everything?”

He smirked. “Well, it’s a start.”

A small laugh escaped you despite yourself. “You really are something else.”

But before you could fully process the situation, he had you pinned again, this time with a playful grin.

“You really know how to make a guy work for it,” Rindou teased, his voice now back to its usual teasing tone.

You sighed, shaking your head, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet,” he leaned in, kissing your forehead lightly, “you’re still not getting rid of me.”

“Damn right,” you muttered, “But don’t think this is over. You’re going to have to earn back my trust.”

Rindou’s eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint, but underneath it, you could see the sincerity — for once, he wasn’t just playing games. He was all in, even if he was chaotic about it.

“Fine,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms. “But I’ll make sure to do it in the most dramatic way possible.”

“Of course you will.”

And despite everything — the mess, the chaos, the late nights — you couldn’t help but feel like maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something real between you two. Even if it was a little messy.

_________________________________________________________________________

Izana Kurokawa:

You were fuming. It wasn't anything big, but it was the little things that piled up, and today, Izana had done one too many. He’d left his dirty clothes everywhere, again. His shoes were in the living room, and the smell of his cologne still lingered in the hallway like he thought he was some sort of royalty. You had tried to be patient, but something snapped when you saw his jacket just thrown over the back of the couch, taking up space where you wanted to sit.

"Izana Kurokawa!" you exclaimed, hands on your hips as you marched into the living room.

Izana was lounging on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing. He didn’t even glance up when you said his full name—just continued scrolling on his phone with his signature lazy grin.

You crossed your arms tighter, glaring at him. "Do you have to leave your stuff everywhere? How many times do I have to tell you?"

He finally looked up, unfazed. “Mmm… I think you’ve told me about three times already,” he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. “But you know, I just can’t help it. I like to make myself comfortable.”

That was the moment it became clear to you that he was teasing you. Your irritation deepened. “Comfortable? I swear, you think everything should revolve around you!”

You could feel yourself getting worked up, but instead of saying anything else, you turned your back and started picking up his things, throwing them in his direction.

Izana sat up, suddenly intrigued. His eyes narrowed playfully as he watched you continue your mini-rampage. “You look cute when you're angry, you know that?”

That did it. You whirled around to face him, pointing a finger in his direction. “Izana Kurokawa, you better—”

But before you could finish, Izana was up in a flash, crossing the space between you in an instant. With a grin that could melt anyone's heart, he cupped your face gently, pulling you in for a kiss.

It was slow at first, a quiet moment that silenced your angry thoughts, his lips warm against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tension in your body melted away, and for a second, all you could feel was his touch.

You pulled away slightly, breathing a little heavier, and without thinking, you snapped, “You can’t just kiss your way out of everything, you know.”

Izana ignored you completely, smiling wider as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you back in for another kiss, this one deeper, making you forget the very reason you were mad in the first place.

When he pulled away, you were slightly breathless, your frustration evaporating into a faint smile despite yourself.

He leaned his forehead against yours, looking into your eyes with that familiar playful glint. “I can and will kiss my way out of anything,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “But hey, I’ll pick up my stuff, okay? No need to get so worked up over my shoes.”

You blinked at him, trying to hold onto your frustration, but it was like trying to keep sand in your hands. “Izana...”

He kissed you once more, interrupting your half-hearted protest. “Shh, it’s fine, babe. Don’t worry about it. I’ll even go get your favorite snack later, just to make up for it.”

You sighed, trying not to smile as you pushed against his chest, though there was no real strength behind it. “You really know how to get out of trouble, don’t you?”

Izana grinned and gave you another quick kiss on the lips, his hand resting on the small of your back. “What can I say? It’s a gift. Now… let’s go get those snacks I promised. You’ll forget all about my shoes.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. As much as you tried to stay annoyed, Izana had that effect on you. He knew how to turn even the most frustrating moments into something playful and lighthearted.

192 notes · View notes

myrleius · 2 days ago

Text

a little sweeter every time (snippets!) — tsukishima. k

timeskip tsukishima k. x aspiring baker fem!reader│wc: 6.7k

synopsis: Tsukishima didn’t expect to see his high school crush again—much less help her open a bakery.

cw/tags: slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, food/baking themes, slice of life, comfort

It had started six months ago, on a day as ordinary as any other.

Caught in a sudden downpour, Tsukishima ducked into the nearest cafe, rain dripping from his coat and his hair matted to his forehead. He was halfway through shaking it off when he froze.

There, at the end of the line, stood yn.

She looked older, obviously. Her hair was shorter now, her expression a little more tired. But the moment she noticed him, her face lit up, the same way it always had. And just like that, it was as if no time had passed at all.

“Tsukishima?”

Her voice was warm, surprised, still so easy to recognize.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses to buy a second. “Huh. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same to you,” she laughed, digging into her pocket before handing him a handkerchief. “Here. You look like a drowned cat.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, blinking at the tiny cartoon bunnies printed across the fabric, finding the childish pattern to be so typically her.

He hadn’t expected that chance encounter to lead to anything, but somehow, over shared desserts and a slow afternoon, the conversation kept going.

She stirred her coffee absently, a small frown tugging at her lips. “I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

She nodded, propping her chin on her hand. “Endless work, overtime with no extra pay, coworkers who act like ‘teamwork’ means dumping their tasks on me… I don’t even remember the last time I slept properly.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Sounds like hell.”

“Exactly.” She paused, hesitating a little, then leaned in. “I was thinking of opening up a bakery.”

He looked up. “A bakery?”

“I know. It’s crazy.” Her voice softened, almost shy. “But I’ve always loved baking. It never feels like work. When I’m up at 3AM frosting cupcakes, I actually don’t hate my life.”

He watched her—the way she fiddled with her cup, the hopeful look she tried to hide—before shrugging, casual as ever. “Then do it.”

“Just like that?” She laughed nervously. “What if I’m terrible at it?”

He reached for the last forkful of his cake, chewing thoughtfully before responding. “Then practice. I’ll tell you if it tastes like garbage.”

It was meant to be a throwaway comment, but she had perked up at that, eyes bright and earnest.

“Wait, really? You’d do that for me?”

He fought the urge to look away, instead smirking slightly. “If it means free food, sure.”

She grinned, nudging his arm. “You’re terrible. But… thanks.”

And maybe it was the contact. Or her smile. But for that second, he felt a faint heat creeping up his neck.

Maybe some of those high school butterflies had survived after all these years.

After that, they exchanged numbers. And that’s how Tsukishima became her regular taste-tester.

The next week, they met at the same cafe.

Yn slid a small box of chocolate chip cookies across the table, fingers tapping nervously against the lid before she let go.

“Here,” she said with a sheepish smile. “They’re a little flat and the edges got too crispy… but they should still taste okay?”

Tsukishima eyed the uneven rows, each one slightly different in shape. He picked one up, inspecting it briefly before taking a bite.

“So?” she asked, leaning in, practically holding your breath. “How is it?”

She looks way too serious than she needed to.

He chewed slowly on purpose, dragging out the moment just to mess with her, before swallowing. “They’re tough. A little greasy. And too many chocolate chips. It throws off the balance.”

She nodded, pulling out her phone to type his comment. “Mm. Got it.”

Before she could finish, he grabbed another cookie and popped it into his mouth.

“Wait—!” she yelped, lunging to close the lid.

“Mmf?” Tsukishima blinked, still mid-chew.

“You just said they weren’t good,” she accused, holding the box away.

He swallowed, lazily reaching for it again. “I said they’re not that good. Big difference.”

She squinted at him. “And you still want more?”

“It’s edible,” he said with a shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now, gimme more.”

“You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” yn mused, placing a box of black sesame muffins in the space between them.

Tsukishima took one without hesitation, peeling back the wrapper before biting into it. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Just unexpected. You seem more like a… vegetable kind of guy.”

“Brilliant deduction.” He brushed a few crumbs off his jeans, leaning back against the park bench with an easy slouch. “Next you’ll say I only drink water.”

She laughed, warm and easy, and Tsukishima pretended not to notice how it made him want to say something stupid again, just to keep her laughing.

“I would’ve if I hadn’t seen you downing coffee the other day,” she said with a teasing lilt. Pulling out her phone, she relaxed into the bench. “So? Tell me what you think?”

He turned the muffin in his hand, inspecting it. “The crust’s kind of dark. Bitter, too.”

“It’s toasty,” she corrected, but her fingers were already typing his comment into her phone. “That’s how black sesame’s supposed to taste.”

“Not really my thing then,” he said.

Still, he smirked a little.

“But are you sure you didn’t just burn it?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted.

“These are good,” Tsukishima murmured, taking another bite of the melonpan. He licked the custard from his lips with barely a pause.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing crumbs from her fingers. “I’ve kind of mastered them. My dad’s picky. He won’t touch the convenience store ones. So my mom and I used to bake them on the weekends.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Fresh ones hit differently.” A pause. “But the chocolate chip ones from Sakanoshita’s? Those are really good.”

Yn’s eyes lit up. “You know those? My dad gives me the stink eye everytime I bring one home, like I’ve betrayed the family or something.”

He huffed a laugh. “You haven’t had one in a while?”

“In forever,” she groaned. “My place is too far. None of the nearby shops carry it.”

He didn’t look at her when he said, “I’ll bring you some.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

He shrugged, casual. “I stop by sometimes. I’ll grab a few.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

He took another bite, eyes fixed on the table. “It’s nothing.”

But he was already planning which day he'd make the detour.

Tsukishima popped the last bite of castella into his mouth, folded the parchment, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You really figured this one out.”

“It took forever,” yn said, grinning down at the remaining slices. “The trick was cooling the flour mixture. If it’s too warm, it sinks.”

He nodded, grabbing another piece without comment.

Across the park, two boys were practicing volleyball. They were clumsy, missing more than they landed. Tsukishima watched them, chewing slowly.

Yn must’ve noticed him watching. “Yachi told me you still play,” she said.

“Sometimes,” he replied, eyes narrowing when one of the kids flubbed a receive. “When I’ve got time.”

“Yeah, because playing pro on the Sendai Frogs is just a casual hobby,” she said, too lightly to be anything but teasing.

He turned to her, caught off guard. “Yachi told you that too?”

“Nope,” she said, leaning back with a small smile. “I looked it up.”

He scoffed, looking away, mostly to hide the way his ears were heating. “So you stalked me.”

“I searched Hinata and the others too, idiot,” she huffed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove.

He laughed, short and quiet. Still, something about her taking the time to look him up made his chest feel annoyingly… nice.

“She was happy for you,” she added, voice softer now. “Yachi, I mean. Said you guys really loved it. That it’s kind of amazing you still get to do it.”

Her gaze drifted to the boys in the distance. She didn’t say much else, but he could see it in the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the bench. That distant look when they first met again. Something tired and wistful beneath it.

Regret.

The ball rolled toward them—another failed receive. It bumped his foot.

He bent down and picked it up.

“You didn’t quit either, you know,” he said without looking at her.

And before she could answer, he jogged off, sleeves rolled up, calling out to the kids—ready to demonstrate, and to distract himself from the way his own heartbeat wouldn’t settle.

They bumped into each other in the produce section.

“Woah,” she said, grinning. “Are you stalking me this time?”

Tsukishima didn’t miss a beat. “I wish. Then I could’ve avoided this.”

She laughed. “Harsh, as always.”

They ended up walking through the aisles together, trading off commentary on ridiculous prices and silently judging people who blocked the middle of the lane. It wasn’t planned, but neither of them minded. It was fun, even.

He peeked into her basket. “Cheesecake?”

“Cheese tarts,” she corrected, plucking a carton of eggs off the shelf. “I’ll make them this Friday. I’ll text you.”

He nodded, already storing the date without thinking.

She glanced into his basket next. “Oyakodon?”

“For the weekend.”

She lit up, already on the move. “Add butter when you sauté the garlic. And—hold on—this.” She grabbed a tiny jar of sansho pepper and dropped it in his basket without waiting for permission.

Tsukishima frowned at it, eyeing the addition skeptically. “... That’s not in the recipe.”

“That’s because your recipe’s boring,” she said with a grin. “Trust me. Once you try it, you’ll never go back. I’ll even pay for it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

It wasn’t. Tsukishima made it again three days later, then again after that.

But he didn’t tell her knowing she’d gloat.

“Ah, come in. Watch the corner.”

“I am,” Tsukishima grunted, shifting the heavy box in his arms as he stepped inside. “Where do I put this?”

“By the door’s fine,” yn said, already slipping off her soaked shoes. She propped the umbrella in the corner, droplets pattering against the tile, then glanced back at him. “Wait here. I’ll get towels.”

She turned left down the hallway, disappearing from view.

Left standing in the genkan, Tsukishima glanced around—first to the row of shoes neatly lined up, then to the absurd pair of shark slippers tucked beside them. The left one was slightly crooked, as if kicked off in a hurry.

His lips twitched. Of course.

She returned a moment later, arms full with towels and… were those papers?

He raised an eyebrow, taking one of the towels. “You planning to quiz me or dry me off?”

She snorted and crouched down. “It’s for the shoes, genius,” she said, stuffing the paper gently into her own. “It helps soak the water out. Now yours.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

Wordlessly, he toed his shoes off and handed them over. She took them without hesitation, still crouched like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He watched her, towel hanging forgotten in one hand. The way she tucked her damp hair behind her ear, the quiet focus in her hands. It was weirdly... attractive.

Then, there was a movement out of the corner of his eye.

A cat—small, mostly white with a patch of grey on its head—peeked out from behind the hallway wall.

“Ah, Chobi!” Yn’s voice brightened instantly. “C’mere, girl.”

The cat stared at her, then gave Tsukishima a wary glance before skittering out of sight.

“She’s not good with strangers,” she chuckled, rising to her feet. “Especially tall ones with bad posture.”

Tsukishima scoffed, rubbing the towel over his hair. “She’s got a type then—people who rope their friends into free labor.”

“Right. Thank you, by the way,” she said, sheepishly brushing her fingers through her own wet bangs. “I completely forgot my relatives were delivering that today.”

“What even is in it?”

“Fruits and veggies. They have a farm. I think it’s a lot of citrus this time.”

He hummed, casting a brief glance at the box. “You were gonna haul that up by yourself?”

“Well…” She looked off to the side. “I was gonna try.”

He gave her a deadpan look.

She only smiled innocently and turned toward the kitchen, voice floating over her shoulder. “Anyway, since you’re here already, we might as well do the tasting. To repay you for your noble sacrifice.”

He sighed, trailing after her. “What is it this time?”

“Cinnamon rolls,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder with a small smile. “Still warm, too.”

“She’s really taken a liking to you,” yn said, stirring brownie batter, the spoon clinking softly against the glass bowl.

Across the room, Tsukishima sat cross-legged on the floor, dangling a feather wand loosely from his fingers.

Chobi pounced on the toy, paws wrapped around it like a trophy. She let out a triumphant meow before plopping down to gnaw at it.

“She only likes me because you make me feed her every time I’m here,” he muttered, scratching the top of her head. Chobi didn’t flinch. That was new.

“She associates you with her survival now,” she called over her shoulder, amused. “That’s a powerful bond.”

He cracked a smile, rising to his feet. That was new too—him being here after work, tasting whatever pastry she decided to whip up.

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside her.

“You should be careful,” he teased. “At this rate, your cat might start following me home.”

“She’d never,” she snorted. “She’s clingy. I can’t even wake up without her climbing onto my face.”

He actually laughed at that, picturing the image in his head.

She set the bowl aside and stepped toward the cabinets. One hand steadied her against the counter as she rose onto her tiptoes, the other reaching for a box on the top shelf, fingers just barely brushing.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, moving in behind her and grabbed it in one easy motion. “Here.”

Her hand dropped as she turned—eyes wide as she realized how close he was.

“Oh… thanks,” she said, taking a step back, only to bump lightly into the counter. She blinked up at him.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

For a second, the kitchen felt way too small.

She ducked her head, a faint pink rising to her cheeks.

And his mind became quiet. Then unbearably loud.

Without thinking, he raised the box and gently tapped it against the top of her head.

“Next time,” he said, voice a little lower, “maybe ask someone taller first.”

A breathy laugh escaped her, soft with a hint of nervousness. “S-Sorry,” she said, taking the box from his hand, fingers brushing against his for just a second too long.

Chobi meowed loudly from the living room, breaking the moment. Barely.

Things hadn’t changed, exactly. But Tsukishima started noticing the little things now.

Like how yn stared a second too long when he talked, then quickly looked away like she hadn’t been caught. How she’d fuss with her hair when he walked up to her, tucking strands that weren’t even out of place. How she’d suddenly ask him about historical facts or volleyball games—topics she’d never cared about before.

And the calls.

Always with some excuse: “My hands are covered in flour” or “I’m chopping onions,” like she couldn’t just pause for two seconds to type.

But the most obvious thing?

She’d started dressing nicer. Still her, still casual, but… cuter. Stud earrings when they went out. Soft knits instead of shapeless hoodies. And today, a fitted t-shirt instead of the usual graphic tees she used to lounge in.

And then there was this—her fingers, tugging his jacket sleeve to get his attention instead of just saying his name.

“Earth to the nerd,” she said, giving it a light pull. “You good?”

He blinked. “Just wondering how much longer I have to stand here before you actually feed me.”

She rolled her eyes. “ I heard patience is a virtue.”

“So is basic competence.”

She elbowed him, laughing, and for a second, it felt normal again.

But when she turned back to the stove—and there it was. The way she smiled to herself. The slight flush on her neck. How she stirred the saucepan a little too fast.

Tsukishima exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d dated before. He knew the signs.

And yet.

Maybe she’s just like this with everyone.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe—

Maybe he just needed to be sure.

“That what you’re dipping it in?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.” Still not looking at him.

“Smells sweet,” he said, leaning in a little.

Her hand faltered.

“Can you hand me the cream puffs?” she asked.

He nodded, pulling back. He grabbed the tray and brought it over.

She turned off the stove, grabbed one, and dipped it in the caramel. Then—almost absently—she held it up to him.

He paused, caught off guard.

She seemed to realize it a second later. Her eyes widened, and the puff wobbled slightly in her fingers.

Tsukishima’s gaze softened before he leaned down and took a bite, careful not to touch her fingers.

Just to avoid embarrassing her, he told himself.

“Not bad,” he said, licking a bit of caramel off the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t burn it this time.”

She made a strangled sound. “It was one time—and it was like, months ago—”

“Sure,” he said, watching the way she suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Just—it’s hot.”

“The caramel?”

She nodded fast. “Yeah. That.”

Sure it was.

He turned away to hide a smile.

Maybe he wasn’t imagining it.

“Ah, this is so cute!”

“Right! It suits your idea for the interior!”

“Oi.” Tsukishima lightly karate-chopped yn’s head before setting a tray down on the table. “Volume, please. We’re in public.”

Behind him, Yamaguchi offered an apologetic smile to the nearby patrons while Yachi ducked her head sheepishly. Yn rubbed the spot he'd tapped, shooting him a mock glare.

They were supposed to be helping her prep for her bakery launch. So far, it had mostly devolved into their usual chaos.

“What’s got you two so worked up anyway?” Yamaguchi asked as he sat beside Yachi, helping pass out plates.

“Yachi drafted a logo for me!” yn said proudly, sliding the paper to the center of the table.

"Whoa, this is amazing," Yamaguchi said, leaning in for a closer look.

Tsukishima set yn's plate in front of her. "You sure you don't wanna slap her face on it? I've got some truly cursed ones if you need material."

“You said you deleted those!” she hissed.

“And you actually believed me?” he said, adjusting his glasses with zero remorse.

Yachi blinked. “Wait... you have pictures of yn?”

Yamaguchi coughed into his hand, poorly hiding his grin.

"It's not a big deal," Tsukishima said flatly. "I have photos of all of you."

"Oh, but he has a special collection of Chobi," yn cut in, eyes glinting. "Did you know he bought her a sparkly collar for her birthday last month? And a tiny tiara—"

“Shut up,” he muttered, nudging her ankle under the table.

Laughter erupted from the other side of the booth.

“That’s… kind of unexpected,” Yamaguchi mused, eyeing them.

“Right?” yn said through giggles. “He spoils her more than I do.”

“Oh, I meant you two,” Yamaguchi added, a little smug now.

Tsukishima shot him a glare. Yamaguchi merely smiled back, unfazed.

“I agree,” Yachi chimed in, her tone gentle but her smile teasing. “You’ve gotten really close. It’s… nice. You barely talked in high school.”

“Blame Mr. Antisocial over here,” yn muttered, cheeks pink as he gestured at Tsukishima. “He’d only say two words to me back then.”

Tsukishima gently pushed her hand away, his voice dry but not unkind. “And yet you never shut up. Funny how that works.”

She hid her smile behind her drink.

Then he turned to the other two, the picture of innocence—except for the ruthless gleam in his eyes.

“Speaking of close,” he said casually, “cute matching watches. Ginza, right? During that... What was it? ‘Coincidental’ business trip?”

Yachi choked on her tea. Yamaguchi stared hard at the ceiling.

Tsukishima sipped from his drink, perfectly smug.

Tsukishima tapped his foot, checking his phone for the third time in a minute.

Yn was quitting her job today—finally. She’d saved enough for renovations and a few months’ expenses, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. She’d been texting him about it all morning.

So he’d decided to wait for her outside her office.

When she finally stepped out, she looked pale but composed, a file folder in one hand and her bag slung over her shoulder. No signs of crying. That seemed good.

“… Bad?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

“Terrible,” she murmured, letting out a shaky breath. But she offered him a wobbly smile. “But at least it’s over.”

He nodded. Silence settled between them, not awkward, just… weighty. He wasn’t great at this kind of thing. The whole comforting-people deal. But he could try.

After a brief hesitation, his hand came up and landed on her shoulder.

“It’s not a mistake,” he said.

“How do you know?” she asked, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, thinking.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “No one does. Only time will tell.”

Her shoulders dipped slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

“Wow,” she muttered. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m not done,” he said, chuckling faintly. “The one thing I do know is that you left something behind that was never going to get better, no matter how much time you gave it.”

Her eyes widened a little, the tension in her face softening. Slowly, she stepped closer. Her hands hovered at his sides, like she was asking permission.

A faint blush crept up Tsukishima’s neck. He looked away, but his hand tugged her just a little closer.

She stared at him for another moment, then let her arms fall back. Instead, she leaned in carefully, resting her head against his chest, leaving the smallest sliver of space between them.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He swallowed. His instinct was to pull her fully in—but they were still in public. And he didn’t want to crowd her.

So instead, he brought a hand up and gently ruffled her hair.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll treat you to yakiniku and beer.”

She huffed a laugh and leaned back. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he lied terribly. “I’m in the mood to drink. Plus, I want gossip. And I fully intend to talk shit about your co-workers now that you’re free.”

Tsukishima jolted when he felt a sudden pinch at his side.

“What the hell—?”

“You never gain weight no matter how much I feed you,” yn grumbled, eyeing his waist like it had personally offended her. “You eat half a cake and still look exactly the same. How is that possible?”

He scowled, swatting her hand away. “Don’t just go around poking people like that.”

She just laughed, clearly unrepentant.

“I play volleyball,” he added, brushing his shirt back down. “And I don’t sit around all day.”

“Still,” she huffed, fingers twitching like she was tempted again, “you can’t burn it off that fast.”

This time, he caught her wrist before she could make another move. His hand closed gently around hers.

“I walk to work. I’m on my feet during exhibit tours. I walk to your place, and then back to mine,” he said. “Probably genetics too. Everyone in my family’s like this.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” she muttered, pulling her hands back with a pout. “Some of us bloat just from inhaling sugar.”

He gave a smug shrug and pushed his hair back. “What can I say? I’m blessed. And you’re… you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah. So that’s where all that weight went—your ego.”

Tsukishima’s lips twitched. Without warning, he reached out and pinched both her cheeks between his fingers.

“Ah—Tsukki! Stop!” she squawked, smacking at his hands. “Let go! I’m sorry! I surrender!”

“You started it,” he said, satisfied as he finally let go.

She rubbed at her face, glaring half-heartedly, but there was warmth behind it.

A beat passed. Then they went back to sorting through labels and notes for her bakery.

Then, she bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “Hey.”

He glanced over.

“You really walk all the way back after visiting?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

She shook her head with a soft smile. “Just didn’t think you’d go that far out of your way. For cake.”

He gave her a long look, before his gaze returned to the papers, moving one to the side.

“It’s not just the cake,” he said quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

He didn’t need to look up to know that she was blushing. And yeah, his face was a little warm too.

“This area gets decent foot traffic,” Tsukishima said, nodding toward the street. “Close to the station too.”

Yn leaned closer to the window of the vacant space, hands cupped around her face. “It’s just the right size—around 45 square meters. Enough for the kitchen, counter, and display case.”

He nodded, watching her instead of the storefront.

“You think this is the one?” he asked after a moment. “Or want to keep looking?”

She took one last look inside before straightening with a small sigh. “I really like it. But we should check a few more, just in case. Also… can we sit somewhere for a bit? My feet are killing me.”

“Weakling” he muttered, smirking as he reached out and steered her forward by the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check out the competition and get something sweet while we’re at it.”

She pulled out her phone, thumbing through her map app. “There was a pastry place a few blocks back, remember? We passed it earlier.”

Tsukishima nodded, eyes scanning ahead. “Yeah. That one looked decent.”

“Think you can make it without whining?” she teased, tilting her head up at him.

“I was about to ask you that,” he shot back. Then, slipping his hand from her shoulder, he added dryly, “Want me to carry you?”

She scoffed. “As if you could.”

His eyes glinted. “You’re right. You probably weigh a ton.”

She gasped and swung at him—he easily sidestepped, a low laugh slipping out.

They fell into step again, their bickering fading into comfortable silence. When she veers slightly toward the sunlit side of the street, he subtly moves to block the harsher glare from hitting her eyes.

“I forgot my couch is buried under all this chaos,” yn muttered, eyeing the explosion of color swatches, menu sketches, pastry boxes, and scattered notes across the living room.

Tsukishima barely glanced at the mess before dropping onto the floor. “This works.”

They ended up sitting cross-legged on a mess of pillows and throw blankets, backs leaned against the couch. The low table in front of them held a few leftover pastries and mismatched mugs of steaming tea. On the TV, a documentary he’d picked played softly, its narration a dry murmur under the quiet.

It wasn’t a date. Not really.

But it felt like one.

“Is this the one where they find teeth in that sediment thingy?” she asked, squinting at the screen.

Tsukishima side-eyed her. “‘Sediment thingy’? Real eloquent.”

“My bad,” she said, grinning.

Still, she kept watching.

Onscreen, grainy footage of rock beds and excavation sites rolled past, narrated by a monotone voice that only excited people like him.

“That layer there,” Tsukishima pointed at the screen with his mug, “Cretaceous. Most of the stuff they find there is marine life. Ammonites, mostly. Sometimes mosasaurs if they get lucky.”

“Ammonites,” she repeated, brow furrowed. “Those swirly guys?”

“Very technical description,” he deadpanned. “But yes.”

He expected her to zone out—most people did when he started—but she didn’t. She tilted her head toward the screen, eyes narrowed like she was actually trying to see it the way he did.

“They’re kinda pretty,” she murmured. “In a prehistoric, probably-deadly sort of way.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “You’d hate the real thing. They’re massive.”

“Really? I thought they were just ancient snails or something.”

That made him laugh again, shaking his head at her ridiculous descriptions.

Somewhere between fossils and snails, his arm had found its way up, draped lazily along the couch behind them. Not touching her. Just close. She shifted slightly, leaning into the pillows. The back of her head brushed the inside of his forearm.

He didn’t move it.

Neither did she.

She laughed again at something he said and her knee nudged his. Her hand rested between them, fingers twitching like they might drift closer.

He turned his head toward her then, about to make some remark—but stopped.

She was already looking at him.

And she didn’t look away.

The light from the TV reflected in her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

But it didn’t matter.

They were close enough for their noses to touch. Her fingers came up, curling into the side seam of his shirt. His arm tensed behind her, ready to close the gap. Their heads tilted ever so slightly, and her eyes fluttered shut.

If he moved just a little more—

Thump.

A blur of fur launched into his lap with a mrow that sounded far too proud.

Tsukishima blinked.

Yn drew back just enough to breathe in surprise.

Chobi, in perfect loaf formation, nestled across his thighs like she’d claimed them on purpose.

The moment shattered instantly.

“Are you serious…” Tsukishima muttered under his breath.

Chobi blinked up at him and purred.

Yn reached for the cat, but she rolled onto her back, paws batting playfully. “Chobi. You are the worst.”

“She’s evolving,” Tsukishima sighed, already giving in. He scratched Chobi’s head without thinking. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Chobi flopped dramatically, clearly agreeing.

Yn settled back with a soft laugh, picking up her mug. They stayed close, and the air was still warm, but the balance tipped off. Her knee bumped his again, but this time it felt like a reset.

“Well,” she said after a moment, gaze flicking to the screen. “Your ancient snail documentary’s actually kind of decent.”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t yet. “Told you it wouldn’t be boring.”

That earned him a soft smile, but the charged air was gone now, tucked into the silence that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Chobi purred louder.

And Tsukishima tried not to think about what would’ve happened if that damn cat had waited just ten more seconds.

The bell above the door chimed softly and Tsukishima stepped inside.

Yn looked up from where she was stacking menus at the counter, surprise flickering across her face. “Hey. What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

He held up a potted orchid—white with a blush of pink at the center. “I figured you’d get plenty of gifts tomorrow. Thought I’d beat the crowd.”

She smiled, walking over to take the plant from his hands, admiring it. “Wow. You actually got these? For me?”

“I can be thoughtful, you know,” he muttered.

“Must be exhausting.”

He huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually… there’s another reason I dropped by.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay...”

“I’m not gonna make it to the opening.” His tone dropped a bit. “My co-worker bailed on the Fukui trip last minute, so I’m getting sent instead. I leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She took that in slowly, her smile dimming. “That’s… okay. I mean, it’s not your fault.”

He nodded, though the silence that followed sat heavier than he liked.

“Wait here,” she said after a moment, pivoting back toward the kitchen. “I made something for you. Figured you’d drop by for breakfast before going to work.”

She returned with a small plate—strawberry shortcake, pristine layers of sponge and cream, with a single slice of berry on top.

Tsukishima looked at it longer than necessary. “You made it.”

“You wouldn’t shut up about it,” she teased.

He chuckled and took the fork from her. “Guess I’m spoiled.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder behind the counter as he took a bite. And she watched him, like always.

He licked a bit of cream from his thumb. “This is delicious.”

Yn beamed. “That good?”

He nodded. “Good enough that I’m mad I won’t be here tomorrow to have more.”

“I’ll make it again when you come back then.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. He kept eating in comfortable silence, the hum between them growing thicker.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Very.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone’s coming. Even those two morons.”

“Hinata and Kageyama?”

“Yeah. The tall one asked if he needed to dress formal.”

“Oh god,” she groaned, laughing.

The tension broke into warmth, then softened again.

“Want anything from Fukui?” he asked.

“Habutae Kurumi, please,” she said, perking up.

“Of course you’d want the one thing with walnuts.”

“Hey! You asked.”

She leaned in a little then, arms crossed on the counter. Her face tilted slightly, amused but fond.

“Thanks, Tsukishima. For everything,” she said. “If I hadn’t met you again, if you didn’t give me the push I needed, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her words sank in slowly and his heart warmed.

He leaned close too, putting the fork down. “I barely did anything. You did all the work. I just got free food.”

“Oh, shut up.” Her hand slid over his—light, hesitant. “You did more than you think.”

He stared at their hands for a moment, then gripped hers. “And I can do more if you want.”

Neither of them moved, not at first.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and when they flicked back up again, the answer was already there.

He leaned in, just a little. Her breath hitched.

Their noses brushed. Breaths mingling. The softest graze of lips—

Then his phone rang.

Loud and jarring.

“Shit.” He pulled back an inch, jaw tight. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

She stepped back just as quickly. “Right. Go ahead.”

The moment slipped through the cracks. Gone again.

Moments passed, and he was by the door.

“Thanks for the cake,” he said, quieter now.

“Thanks for the orchids,” she replied with a small smile.

“Sorry I can’t stay.” He reached up, pausing near her cheek before moving up to ruffle her hair instead.

“It’s fine. Really.” She leaned into his touch. A beat passed before she grabbed his shoulders, turning him around the door. “Now go. It’s late and you have to pack.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He gave a nod, then left.

It should’ve ended there.

But as Tsukishima walked a few paces down the quiet street, something gnawed at him.

He’d be back. In a week, everything would slide back into place. They’d share dessert. Bicker. Sit too close in her apartment and pretend the silence between them wasn’t filled with everything they didn’t want to say.

Nothing would change.

And that’s what got to him.

Because maybe that was the problem.

This itch in his chest—it wasn’t panic. Nothing bad was going to happen. She wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t moving across the world. There would be a thousand other moments to say something.

But even knowing that, he couldn’t shake the thought.

He just really, really wanted this to be the one.

He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the look she gave him when she said thank you. Maybe it was how warm the place felt when it was just the two of them. Or maybe he was just tired of pretending he didn’t know what this was.

It didn’t make sense. But the feeling wouldn’t let go.

So he stopped walking.

Then he turned around.

The bell chimed again.

Yn blinked, “Tsukki? Did you forget something?”

He stood in the doorway, breath caught between resolve and hesitation. “Yeah. I did.”

She glanced around. “What? Your phone?”

“No.”

In a few strides, he was in front of her.

He used to think his high school crush on her was just a phase. One of those dumb, passing things you look back on and laugh about when you’re older and know better. He never said anything then. Just stayed in the background, convinced she’d never see someone like him.

And for a while, he believed he’d outgrown it. Got older. Dated other people. Learned how to care, let go, to move on and try again.

But then they met again and she had rearranged the way his life moved. Morning texts became habit. Stopping by after work turned into instinct. Even the smallest things—a song he heard her hum before, a cat on the street—automatically led back to her. She’d become his first thought, then his favorite one.

What he felt now wasn’t the same as back then, but it wasn’t lesser either.

He never believed in fate. Never bought into the idea of “the one.”

But standing here now, with his palms sweating like he was seventeen again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just this once—the cliché was right.

Maybe she was it.

So, he didn’t hesitate this time. He reached for her hand, steady despite his pulse hammering in his ears.

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, voice a little too low, like he hoped saying it quietly would make it feel less embarrassing. “That I… I want to be there. For you. Not just with the bakery. But… everything.”

He cleared his throat, gaze flicking down to where their hands were joined. “I mean—I don’t know. Life stuff. Whatever that means.”

God.

He shut his eyes for a second and exhaled through his nose, like maybe this would reset his brain. It didn’t.

“From now on. For a long time. If you’ll let me. Or tolerate me. Either works.”

There. He said it.

And it sounded exactly as awkward as he’d feared. Not charming. Not smooth like earlier or all the other times it almost spilled from his lips. Just him, rambling and way too warm in the face.

Yn didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at him, lips parted slightly—then let out a breath. Almost a laugh. Soft and fond.

“The way you—I mean,” she said, cheeks tinting pink as her gaze dropped to their hands, “that was… barely coherent.”

He opened his mouth, about to defend himself, but she squeezed his hand before he could.

“But I liked it,” she added, glancing up again. “Life stuff with you sounds great.”

That made him smile—relieved, crooked, a little breathless.

His hands found her cheeks, thumbs grazing the soft curves under her eyes. And when she leaned into the touch, something in his chest went loose.

“I love you,” he murmured.

She blinked up at him, eyes shining. Slowly, her hands came up, pressing to his chest, sliding up until they curled around his neck. Her fingers brushed the back of his nape, gentle and a little unsure, like she was mapping him for the first time.

“I love you too.”

He shivered under her touch, from the weight of her words, from everything.

God, he was so far gone for her.

Then she tilted her head, lips quirking up. “So… is this the part where we kiss? Because I’m kind of dying over here.”

He laughed, half-choked, and tugged her in. “Yeah.”

But right before their lips could meet, he pulled back slightly and fumbled into his pocket.

Her brows lifted. “You’re kidding.”

He held up his phone, switched it to silent, and shot her a look. “I’m not getting interrupted twice in one night.”

She laughed, her forehead brushing his.

Tucking the phone away, he leaned in, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other still cradling her cheek. “I’m not going to hold back, okay?” he whispered.

“Tsukishima! Just go for it already.”

He grinned and, finally, leaned in.

It tasted like strawberries.

But more than that, it tasted like something he’d been quietly craving for a long, long time.

214 notes · View notes

lovesickchoi · 2 days ago

Text

📁 FILE 01: CHOI SOOBIN

⋆·˚ ༘ * After a missed anniversary and weeks spent out of sync, Soobin just wants to be close to you again—really close. No rush, no performance. Just you, him, and the quiet reminder that you still belong to each other.

✦ Love Language: Quality Time

pairing: soobin x reader ✮⋆˙✐ 3.8k

warnings: smut, f!reader, no protection, soft dom!soobin, sub!reader, cock warming, slight oral f!rec, praise, romance, no protection, finishing inside

🗂️ click to access all txt member’s files

˚₊ · »-♡→ main masterlist

The apartment is quiet when you finally come home.

Way too quiet.

The kind of quiet that makes your chest feel heavier than your bag slung over your shoulder, heavier than the late hour blinking back at you on the microwave clock.

Stepping inside, you make sure to lock the door behind you. You take off your shoes, drop your keys into the bowl, and glance toward the couch.

He’s sitting there, asleep—just barely. Half curled into the throw blanket, one arm slung over the back of the couch like he was waiting for you but gave up halfway through.

You stand there longer than you intend to, just wanting to watch him for a moment. He stirs before you can say anything, lashes fluttering, voice groggy.

"You're late again..." Soobin grumbles. It wasn't accusatory, just worn thin.

You give him a small apologetic smile. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't even get a lunch break today."

Soobin nods and tries to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He looks toward the TV, and the silence stretches on longer than you'd like. With Soobin's recent comeback promotions and your new late-night shifts at the office, quality time together was few and far between.

Even when you managed to spend time together, it was never just the two of you. There were always friends around, always the other members. Never a moment that felt truly yours—never a chance to just be alone with Soobin.

And still, he loved you with a quiet kind of devotion. Soobin would wait up long past midnight just for the quiet privilege of walking you to bed. Even the smallest moment alone with you was worth losing sleep over.

You were so used to running—meeting quotas, ticking boxes, always being on—that you hadn’t noticed how little of yourself you’d given him lately. Not your stories, not your softness. Not your time.

And apparently not even your memory for important days, like today.

You realize it the moment your eyes flick toward the calendar on the fridge. The date. Your heart sinks.

"Shit," you breathe. "Our anniversary..."

Soobin doesn’t even flinch. He just watches you quietly, eyes soft but ridden with exhaustion.

Your own eyes shift down to the uneaten container of food and unopened bottle of wine on the kitchen table—he waited to eat.

"You didn't have to wait."

He responds quickly. "I wanted to." Soobin doesn't say for you, but it's written all over his face. He'd do anything to savor a moment with you.

"I am so sorry, Binnie," you're barely able to get out. "I care about you so much. I would never..."

You feel a twist of guilt settle in your stomach, but he doesn’t pile on. Nor does he guilt you. That’s not who Soobin is.

“You didn’t forget because you don’t care,” he says softly. “I know you. You just… never forget things like that. I know how overwhelmed you've been.”

Soobin doesn’t say more. He just lifts the blanket, a wordless invitation smoothed between the wrinkles in the couch cushions. When you lie down beside him, it’s quiet again. The kind that’s warm this time—full of unspoken things and shared breath. His arms curl around you instinctively. He presses his face into your neck like he’s been holding in the need to feel you all week.

"I hate this," he breathes out, almost like he's embarrassed to say it. "Hate only seeing you like this."

You swallow hard, because you feel it too. You've never been good at this. Never been good at showing Soobin just how close you want—no, need—to be near him.

You try to apologize. To say something, anything about work. About your stupid boss, the lack of breaks, the lack of appreciation, the unpaid overtime.

And he lets you ramble on. Because this is his favorite thing in the entire world—hearing your sweet voice talking about your day, getting to hold you while you do it. His eyes are sparkling and trained on your face, attention undivided as you vent. Soobin's heart thunders beneath his rib cage.

You’re halfway through telling him all the messy details—words spilling too fast, casual but unfocused, like you’re trying to outrun your own exhaustion. There’s a thin sheen of energy in your voice, but it’s cracked at the edges. You yawn mid-sentence, barely stifling it behind the back of your hand.

Soobin notices the way you press on like you aren't seconds from collapsing. He always does.

You brush it off like you usually do, reaching for a water bottle on the coffee table, already moving on to the next thought. But before you can, Soobin gently lays his hand over yours.

“You’re tired.”

You blink at him. “I’m fine.”

“You come home and talk like you haven’t breathed in hours," he chuckles through a sigh. There’s no judgment in his voice, just a quiet hurt.

That makes you stop. Not because you disagree, but because he said it like he’s been holding it in for too long. You never really knew how to be present with him. Even in times like this, when you knew he needed it most.

He sits up straight, shifting his body to face you fully. His hand doesn’t leave yours.

“I know you don’t like stopping. I know being tired makes you feel like you’re falling behind. But I promise it's okay to slow down once in a while.”

"Binnie..." Your voice trails off.

“You didn’t forget on purpose,” he says again, because he needs you to believe it. “But I still need you. I still want today to matter. Even if it’s just here, like this.”

His voice dips, eyes searching yours. "I know we've both been working a lot. But to be honest, this has been really killing me. Can't we just take our time tonight?"

And then he’s pulling you in—slowly, gently—his arms around you. The kind of embrace that doesn’t demand anything, only offers.

You don’t fight it, don't say anything. You just let yourself sink into his chest, right into the warmth of him. It’s the only place where you don’t have to be composed or efficient or fine. You just needed to be his.

His hand slides up your back. “Just… be here,” he murmurs into your hair. “For a little while.”

And for once, you let yourself stay still. His lips brush the crown of your head, barely there.

You feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against your cheek, the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. He doesn’t rush you. But when you tilt your head up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. Warm and desperate. It’s not lust, not at first. It’s pure longing.

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye like he’s trying to memorize you. You can’t help but lean into his angelic touch. Then his mouth is on yours. A slow and needy kiss that says I’ve missed you, stay forever.

You can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back even as his fingers slip under your shirt, testing you, as if he’s asking for permission with every touch.

You give it with ease.

When you shift into his lap, straddling him, wrapping your arms around his neck, the ache of it all hits him.

Soobin holds you like he’s scared you’ll disappear again. His tongue is pressed between your lips, scaling every inch of your mouth that it can reach. An exasperated moan leaves you in a low sigh, and he swallows it down greedily. You unravel against one another, piece by piece.

The growing tightness in Soobin's pants presses firmly against you. You were beginning to throb for him and his attention alone. No distractions or distance, just this—focused and intentional.

Even though your lips moved unhurriedly, you have to pull away for air. But he doesn't let you escape so easily, keeping his forehead pressed firm against your own.

Soobin wants your attention on nothing but him tonight, that’s a promise he kept for himself. Before your mind can race, he's rubbing circles with his thumb over your leggings, stealing your mind away from stress and thoughts of work, locking them away where they’d be forced to put Soobin at the forefront.

Your leggings, usually an inconvenient barrier, were completely soaked through to the skin. It left Soobin no problem in rubbing every sensitive spot you yearned for him to reach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips. "Fuck, been needing you so bad. Been so stressed out." His eyes are trained on the outline of your folds, your cunt basically sucking in the soaked fabric and begging for his finger to follow suit. He wondered just how well you would suck his cock in if you were dripping and swelling like this already.

He groans loudly without remiss, throaty and strained, head dropping against your shoulder in self-control.

He continues to rub you lovingly, tearing his gaze from between your thighs to your face, smiling at the blush blooming across your nose and cheeks. His eyes flood with warmth when he speaks. "I want to do something."

“I’ll do anything,” you answer to him like you always have. Your time, your mind, your soul—he’s always had access to all of it, whenever he wanted.

Soobin’s smile spreads wide across his face, unable to contain it. His hands grip your hips before slipping beneath your shirt, slowly lifting it over your head with care.

Your breath catches. He looks almost shy when he speaks again.

“Can I just… stay inside you tonight?” His voice is hushed and reverent. “I don’t want to rush. I just—want to be close.”

A nod is all you need to deliver him. His hands are gripping just beneath your ass, standing up from the couch as he holds you. Your legs lock around his waist, keeping him close amidst the trek to your shared bedroom.

You noticed how deliberate Soobin was tonight—every step he took toward the bed felt endless. And when he finally lays you down against the soft cotton sheets, it’s like the world exhales. For the first time in a long time, you feel breathtakingly alive.

His movements flow into each other, rewriting time just to make this moment last longer. The only moment he disconnects himself from you his to peel off his own t-shirt. Your clothes are stripped from your body as well, more carefully than ever. Tender fingers work at the hem of your leggings, dragging them down your goose-bump ridden skin.

Soobin's lips are the only things moving quickly, wanting to feel your warm skin against them. He's kissing a trail across your chest, down your stomach, breath sucking in at the laced panties staring back at him.

The black material is sticky, soaked, and completely lost between your folds. Your head rested gently against a pillow slightly cocked to the side, peering down at him through hooded eyelids. He was so beautiful. All the time in the world belonged to you two.

"Mm, fuck baby," you're already whining out. Fuck these new schedules. Fuck your late nights. This is what you've both been denied for too long.

Large hands splayed across the curvature of your hips, gripping the flesh and securing you in place. Between your legs, he helped himself to one long, and slow drag of his tongue up your cunt. He breathed you in, fabric and all, with greed. It felt like a reward for the time he'd spent patiently craving for your presence.

Tender teeth got hold of your panties, dragging them halfway down your legs. A chill shoots up through you, his teeth grazing your inner thigh just enough. Soobin's fingers took over, sliding the material the rest of the way off.

One more lewd kiss against your cunt, this one hard and claiming, and he's up on his knees removing his sweatpants and underwear just as painfully slow. You'd never felt so prepared for Soobin in your entire relationship. Thighs and sheets stained with splotches of your sweet arousal, out of control.

Now fully undressed and erect against his toned stomach, Soobin takes his place next to you on the bed. He's propped up, back against the headboard, looking at you expectantly.

"Come here," his voice is so careful as he pats his lap. His voice holds the kind of care reserved for precious things.

You swing a leg over his waist with his help, straddling him where he sits. Soobin is silent, but his face says everything. His chin pressed to his chest as he looks between your legs, lips drawn rough between his teeth.

He keeps his hands at your waistline, lifting his hips just enough to align himself with your sopping entrance. You both hiss softly as the head of his cock slides against your folds, hot and thick. But he doesn’t push in just yet. He’s waiting for you again, asking for permission.

“Can I?” he whispers, even though you’ve already said yes in every way that counts.

You nod and sink down slowly, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. Neither of you moves. You just sit there, wrapped around him, buried in each other.

Your walls clench instinctively, and he emits a broken groan. But he doesn’t move, he doesn't fuck up into you—just presses his face into the crook of your neck and breathes.

This isn’t about sex for either of you. It’s about connection. Closeness. The ache to feel like you still belong to each other. Skin on skin, hearts syncing with every breath, you melt together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

Soobin stays nestled inside your warmth for so long that you begin to lose track of time. His hands draw lazy circles over your back, his lips brushing your shoulder in silent worship. Your arms hang around his neck, holding him close. Every now and then, your walls flutter around him, and he exhales a quiet curse into your skin.

Every moment spent inside you is marked by a kiss—some soft and delicate, others deep and bruising, left like claims on your neck. Soobin's voice is hushed, whispering over and over how much he adores you. His hands roam your body like he's rediscovering it all over again, tracing every dip, outlining the shape of you with his touch. He’s etching you into him.

Eventually, the stillness turns to tension. You shift your hips just slightly and feel him twitch inside you. His breath hitches, and you notice.

“Don’t do that,” Soobin murmurs, voice taught with restraint.

Your faces are pressed close, cheek to cheek. He can feel the graze of your hardened nipples against his chest, your shaky, uneven moans fanning hot against his ear. And suddenly, he’s entirely too aware of you—of how impossibly tight and perfect your body feels around him, like you were made to fit just like this.

"Sorry, Binne." You don’t mean for it to come out as a whimper, but it slips, drenched in need. “I’m just so full…”

You try to remain still, but your eyes are already glassy with want. And when your lips find his again, more desperate this time, he gives in.

He starts to move, gently at first. Rolling his hips into yours like it’s the first time all over again. You can tell he's afraid to shatter the moment, but can’t help needing you more.

Soobin's hand finds your hair, gripping firmly—not to dominate, but to really see you. He pulls back just enough to watch your face, to pass every wave of pleasure back and forth between your eyes. He makes love to you like he’s savoring it, dragging his cock in and out at the perfect angle, hitting your g-spot again and again with a patience that feels more like devotion than control.

But it’s not enough, not with how he feels inside you. How his cock stretches you open just right, how his eyes celebrate every inch of you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.

So you shift again—this time intentionally—lifting your hips just slightly before sinking back down. The friction makes your mouth fall open, a soft moan filling the air.

Soobin groans, his hands flying to your waist. “Baby…”

But you’re already moving again. A slow, teasing roll of your hips that pulls breathless curses from his lips. Your hands brace against his chest as you rise onto your knees and start to bounce—gently, at first, letting yourself adjust, letting the stretch fill you again and again. His cock drags along your walls in the most maddening way, kissing your sweet spot again and again.

His fingers dig into your sides, but he doesn’t stop you. He wouldn't dare. Instead, Soobin just watches you with his lips parted, chest rising and falling with every bounce. The expression on his face is pure awe. He can’t believe this is real. Spending time with you has never felt this heavenly. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“You feel so good,” you whisper, voice trembling as your thighs work to keep the pace. “So big…”

He sits up more to meet you halfway, arms wrapping around your waist as his mouth finds your chest—kissing, sucking, biting gently at your sensitive skin. Every time you sink down, his cock hits deeper, and the pleasure tightens in your belly like a fuse burning too close to the edge

“Just like that,” he breathes, kissing up your throat. “You ride me so well, baby. So fucking good for me…”

Your movements grow faster, more desperate, chasing the high together. Each bounce has you both gasping, moaning, gripping onto each other like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

His hands slide up your back, anchoring you to him, and when your forehead presses to his, his voice is barely audible.

“Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.” Soobin’s thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow circles that have you squeezing tight around him. The sudden surge of pleasure makes your entire body jolt—your thighs trembling, your rhythm faltering.

“F–fuck!” he cries, his voice cracking as his core tightens beneath you. One hand claws at your back, desperate to ground himself, while the other keeps working your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge with each drawn-out stroke.

Your body trembles in his lap, chest heaving as you ride the crest of sensation. His name leaves your lips in a gasp, hips stuttering as you start to unravel for him. But Soobin doesn’t let up—he leans in, kissing you fervently. His voice is gravelly in your ear.

“That’s it, baby… you’re doing so good. Let go for me. I’ve got you.”

And you do—your whole body shaking as pleasure rips through you, fluttering tight around him, squeezing him so perfectly he groans through gritted teeth. Your forehead drops against his shoulder, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan. Soobin holds you through it, murmuring praise into your hair, letting you ride the waves until your hips finally still.

But he’s still hard, still tucked deep inside you. You blink, dazed, and meet his eyes.

“Soobin—”

“Not done,” he breathes, cupping your cheek. “Let me love you a little longer.”

He shifts, lifting you slightly before guiding you down onto your back, never slipping out. His body settles over yours, and he kisses you so slowly you forget how to breathe. It’s not rushed, none of this was. He wants to remember every expression and sound you make beneath him.

Soobin starts to move again, hips rolling deep, cock gliding into you with a drag that has your toes curling. Each thrust is slow yet hard, filling you to the brim. He's making sure you'll feel him for days.

“Still so wet,” he whispers, voice shaking from restraint. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

You nod with teary eyes, hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to fuck you just a little harder—still slow and sensual, but with the kind of focused passion that makes your whole body scream.

His lips find your neck again, then your jaw, then your mouth, speaking softly with his pressed on yours. “Want you to feel everything, baby. Want you to remember this whenever our schedules are busy.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, clutching at him.

“I won’t go anywhere,” he promises instantly, fucking into you with a little more urgency. “I’m right here. You’re mine.”

You moan his name again as he rocks into you, shifting his angle just slightly to hit your g-spot head-on. The overstimulation begins to take you over. Your back arches off the bed, and he catches you with one arm wrapped beneath you, pressing your bodies flush together, like even air between you would be too much distance.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmurs, watching your face. “So good for me.”

You barely manage to choke out a response. You’re too full, too overwhelmed, and too wrapped up in the heat of his body and the impulse in his gaze.

He slows again as he nears the edge, you for a second time that night. Thrusts going deeper, heavier, until you’re clutching his hair, pulling him closer, whispering into his ear, “I want you to cum inside.”

Soobin groans deep in his chest at your admission and presses his forehead to yours, breathing unevenly.

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

It only takes a few more slow, grinding thrusts before he’s burying himself to the hilt and pulsing inside you, arms shaking as he holds you close. His lips tremble against yours, his moans drawn out and desperate as he fills you. The inappropriate sounds quickly have your own, blinding orgasm flowing from you with ease.

He still doesn’t pull out.

Instead, he kisses you again, even sweeter, before shifting both of you onto your sides, tangled together, still joined.

You’re panting, but your heart is calm. You feel full in every way, wrapped in his warmth, your body and soul entirely his. Soobin strokes your hair, nose brushing your cheek.

“Stay just like this,” he whispers. “Let me keep you.”

You nod, one leg hiked over his hip, arms tucked against his chest. “Don’t let go.”

“Never,” he murmurs, breath hitching when your walls flutter again. “Fuck. You’re still gripping me so tight…”

You press your face into his neck, smiling softly. “That’s ‘cause I want you to stay.”

He chuckles, fingers tracing your spine. “Then I will. All night, baby. However long you’ll have me.”

You both fall quiet, still connected, warmth shared between flesh. The room feels sacred, filled with love, comfort, and the kind of silence that means everything. You make a mental note to call out of work the next morning.

Soobin stays inside you until you’re both asleep—bodies tangled, time slowed, nothing left to say but everything left to feel.

tags: @bunnysoonie @zznblr @twilght-talks @gyudollies @beomgyusluver @dawngyu @boba-beom @taebatu @simpforseoho @another-lemon-tree @yyeonbinn @chubichubs @jooyeonsvape @txt-thelmi @zorange13 @jellyyjn

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